Fydelia and her team didn’t hesitate, striking so fast the men didn’t have time to grab their weapons. The team pounced and immobilized the men all in utter silence as I darted in and touched the napes of the guards’ necks, zapping them to ensure they’d stay knocked out for a few hours.
“Quick, drag them inside,” Fydelia ordered in a low voice. “Strip them. Joelle and Suzanne, change clothes, now.”
I raced around to the other towers, knocking out any guards that were still conscious and helped to subdue those who resisted. All the guards were locked inside the towers and stripped. Volunteers donned their uniforms.
Finding Melina in tower four, I gestured to her. “Stay close to me until I say so. Understand?”
With a gleam in her eyes, she nodded. “Thanks.”
“Save it for later.”
Odd helped at tower three. “The others?” he asked.
“So far, so good.” I zapped the man he had in a head lock. “Oh, and keep an eye out for Jael.”
“Jael’s here?”
“She was.” I explained about her visit as we headed for tower one.
Odd cursed an impressive and creative string of expletives. At tower one, the women had cornered Odd’s man. Blood dripped from a gash on his forehead.
“He’s with us,” I said, examining the cut. “Not deep, you’ll live.”
He glanced at the women surrounding us. A variety of fierce and determined expressions glared at him. “Are you sure?” he asked.
“Have you hit any of them since working here?”
“Of course not.”
“Then you’re good. Come on, you’re needed up front.”
The three men stood in front of the first set of locked doors. Fanned out behind them were nine women disguised as guards. Together they represented the first shift change of the evening. Hopefully the men on the other side wouldn’t look too close. The other two thousand plus penitents waited out of sight. They didn’t make a sound.
Odd knocked on the door at the appropriate time. The panel slid back. Melina grabbed my hand.
“Yeah?” a voice asked.
“The princesses are secure,” Odd said.
Oh, please.
“Who thought of that code?” the guy grumbled, but he unlocked the door.
When it swung open, Odd stepped forward. “Brother Quain thought we should be nicer to the ladies.”
“These aren’t ladies, they’re—”
Odd grabbed him by the throat. “Careful what you say.”
The women surged forward. The replacement guards had been waiting in the narrow hallway just behind the guy dangling from Odd’s fist. A cry rippled through them. While they didn’t have swords, they had their reeds and had a little more notice than their colleagues inside. However, a few swayed on their feet, staring sleepily at the strangely quiet ruckus around them. Odd must have laced their supper with my powder.
Instructing Melina to keep out of the way of the fighting, I entered the fray to zap a guard or two. During one foray, a guard hooked his arm around my neck.
“Stop, or I’ll kill her,” he cried.
No one listened to him. I touched his hand, sending waves of pain into his body. He yelped and sank to his knees, bringing me down with him. Unable to reach the sweet spot, I called for help. Melina and four women pried him off of me and held him so I could knock him out.
By that time, the others had been neutralized. I touched the remaining guards.
“Weapons?” Fydelia asked.
“We stashed a half dozen in the break room down the hall, but there are more once we get past the next barrier,” Odd said.
All good. And no sign of Jael.
Fydelia and her group followed Odd. I glanced behind at the lines of women. A few panted from the effort, a few sported cuts and bruises, and a few grinned with vicious delight while the rest appeared nervous. No one said a word. All those days praying in silence had been the perfect training.
Now armed, Fydelia signaled us to follow her and Odd. We crept along the hallway until we reached another set of locked double doors. Fydelia swept her hand out and the women behind me and Melina formed one line, pressing against the left wall.
Taking up positions to either side of the doors, Odd, Fydelia, and the five ladies with the swords waited. And waited. And waited.
I kept expecting the women to murmur with impatience and questions. Maybe because I had to bite my lip to keep from asking Odd what the heck we were—
The rasp of metal and a loud clang sounded. The doors opened and three priests entered with two guards right behind them.
“I assure you, Brothers. We’ve been holding penitents for fifty years. No one has ever escaped,” the priest in the middle said.
Odd and Fydelia jumped them, disarmed the guards, and pinned the priests to the wall with swords pointed at their chests.
“You were saying, Brother Keidan?” Quain asked, holding his hands up.
“I...” Brother Keidan stared at Fydelia in utter shock.
“Well, there’s a miracle,” Quain said. “First time Brother Wind Bag has been speechless.”
“Avry, are you going to introduce us to your friends?” Loren asked.
Fydelia glanced at me. “Avry?”
“I’ll explain later. Those two are part of my rescue team.” I introduced them to her.
The women let the monkeys free.
Loren reached under his robe and pulled out a set of my throwing knives bundled together. “Thought you might want these.” He tossed it.
I caught it in midair. “Ah, Loren, you really know how to spoil a girl.”
“I aim to please.”
“Real touching,” Odd said drily. “But we need to stay focused. And we’ll need Keidan’s robe.”
“Strip,” Fydelia ordered, poking the priest with her sword’s tip, drawing blood.
He scrambled to comply.
Odd hooked a thumb at the guards. “Avry, could you?”
I zapped them, and after Keidan stripped, I knocked him out, too. Odd handed the red robe to his man that hadn’t gotten cut. He donned it.
“You said there were more weapons?” Fydelia asked.
“Right this way.” Odd led.
We all followed him into the next hallway. Two barriers down, six more to go. They collected another dozen swords and with the three “priests” in the front, they tricked another set of doors open. A fight ensued, but I waited to use my knives. After subduing the guards, we picked up more swords. And my pack. The monkeys had stashed it with the weapons.
“It was in the crypt,” Loren said, gesturing. “We just managed to get it here after you pulled your little surprise on us.”
“You’re the best.” I blew him a kiss.
“Hey, what about me?” Quain asked.
“You’re second best, as always,” Loren said.
Quain drew breath to argue.
“Not the time for this, gentlemen,” Odd said.
Managing to get past two more barriers, we ran into bigger trouble at the sixth set of locked doors. We no longer had the element of surprise. No one answered our knocks. Shouts and screams echoed as guards arrived from other entrances, pinning us in.
A handful of armed women rushed to get between the guards and the unarmed penitents, forming two lines of defense on both sides of us. From here on out, we’d have to keep these lines so the others behind us could escape without harm. Quain yanked his lock picks from his pocket and knelt by the door.
Just as he popped the lock, it burst open, knocking him back. The guards who pushed through spotted the red robes and paused for a moment in confusion. It was all Odd and Fydelia needed. They pounced. More defenders waited on the other side of the doors and, even though a few of them moved as if drugged, it was a struggle to fight our way into the next hallway.
The number of guards increased as we broke through the seventh barrier. But the women would not be stopped. Determined, driven, and fierce, they filled the na
rrow space, sweeping away the opposition like raging flood waters.
Keeping Melina close, I stayed right behind Odd and the monkeys. The last set of doors led to the outside. And blocking our path to freedom were a dozen priests. Alert and prepared for battle with a long swords in each hand, they waited for us.
I wiped sweat from my face. Tired from using my powers, I blinked at the final obstacle, calculating our odds. I tucked Melina behind me. At least Jael wasn’t among them.
“Oh, hell, no,” Fydelia said. “They’re not stopping us.” She raised her bloody sword into the air. “For the girls!”
Repeated and shouted over and over, the cry rippled along the women. Time to get out of the way. I flattened my body against the wall, pushing Melina with my arm to do the same.
The women surged forward, intent on their targets. Steel clanged on steel, guttural growls mixed with higher-pitched shouts as they engaged in a fierce battle. No chance for me to dash and zap. This melee was primal. A desperate fight for survival. And their sheer numbers gave the women the advantage.
Odd and the monkeys stood in the thick of things. I gripped Melina’s hand, unable to tear my gaze away as an ache grew in my chest. Stabbed and sliced, women either stumbled back or collapsed in a heap. Others dragged them from harm then took their place.
Palming one of my knives, I aimed with care. Unexpected in the midst of the fight, my blade pierced a shoulder. The wounded priest lost his momentum and Quain pressed his advantage. With one quick strike, he buried his sword into his opponent’s stomach.
A queasy slush coated my throat. While I hadn’t made the killing blow, my actions had resulted in the man’s death. As a healer, it violated my purpose in life. As a penitent, it was a necessary evil.
Keeping the image of two thousand women on their knees in my mind, I aimed again. Odd and the monkeys battled their way to the doors with an impressive amount of skill. While Quain worked on the locks, the others protected him. I threw my remaining knives, helping them.
It seemed Quain moved in slow motion. Unable to just stand there any longer, I joined those assisting the casualties. Melina followed. More than a dozen had been injured. Blood splattered their robes, matted their hair, and dripped from cuts. I checked each one. A couple had already died. And a few would soon—their injuries fatal. And one young lady teetered on the borderline. The slight woman had been stabbed in the ribs and had a punctured lung. I could assume her injuries. But should I?
I glanced at Melina. She ripped strips of cloth from the bottom of her robe, making bandages. Mom would be proud.
A loud bang then a crack sounded. The fighters flinched, but when the fresh air swept in, erasing the odors of sweat and blood, it recharged the penitents. They doubled their efforts and the remaining warriors fell.
“Quick, this way,” Loren ordered.
They streamed out into the dark street with Quain in the lead. For each wounded lady, two friends supported her. Careful of her ribs, I pulled the borderline patient over my shoulder. Small and thin, she weighed almost nothing.
By the time I reached the street, Flea and Ives had joined Quain. The women pooled around them, drawing unwanted attention. I caught up to them.
“What are you waiting for?” I demanded.
“We’re trying to figure out another route through the tunnels,” Ives said. “With this many people, the one we lit will draw too much attention.”
“Stick with your original route. Staying hidden is no longer a priority.”
“We should make sure they all escape,” Quain said.
“They need to follow the lanterns. We set them this afternoon,” Flea said.
“Ives and Flea, take point,” I ordered. “Keep Melina with you. Odd, you and the monkeys stay with Fydelia and her team to ensure we assist as many women as possible.”
Melina protested, but I cut her off. “Go with Flea. I’ll catch up.”
“What about...?” She gestured to the injured girl.
“I’ve got her. Now go.”
They took off at a run and the women followed. I moved slower. But I encouraged those streaming past me to keep going. Turning left, we traveled through an alley for a couple blocks before entering the underground aqueducts. I gagged on the rotten smell. The splashing sound of hundreds of pairs of bare feet in the cold wet muck echoed throughout the stone tunnel. The noise alone would call every guard and priest down on us. The lanterns were spaced far enough apart to create little pockets of darkness, but close enough that those pockets only happened in straightaways.
Eventually, I was the last in line. Or so I thought. Footsteps splashed behind me, and I turned to ask for help as the girl had grown too heavy for me. And just when I’d thought we’d avoided Jael, there she stood, wearing a penitent’s robe and holding a sword. Her fury pressed on me like a wet blanket. Or was that her magic? This wasn’t going to end well.
“Side tunnel, now,” Jael ordered, indicating a left branch.
I headed into the tunnel, walking until the light dimmed.
“Keep going,” Jael said.
I pushed deeper into the darkness until ordered to stop.
“Put the girl down.”
Setting the girl on the ground, I knelt next to her. Her breath rasped in painful gulps. There was just enough light to see fresh blood had soaked her robe.
I turned to Jael. “I need to heal her.”
“No you don’t.” Jael stepped closer. “You need to stop interfering, to stop ruining all my plans. To just stop!”
“How did I—”
“These women were mine. I planned to rescue them and use them for my new army and you...you...” She sputtered with rage. “You. Need. To. Stop.”
I braced for Jael to suck my breath from my lungs or use the air to smash me against the stone walls. But she ran straight at me. I jerked in surprise right before the blade of her sword pierced my chest just below my right breast.
Pain exploded as my ribs broke. Air whooshed from my right lung. After she yanked the blade out, I collapsed to my knees, sucking in air laced with tiny needles. Fire burned around my heart. I keeled over on my left side.
Jael leaned over me. “That should stop you.”
And this time, I agreed with her.
KERRICK
Kerrick had to keep the smugglers from entering the aqueducts. Concentrating, he encouraged the bushes to thicken around the five smugglers’ legs, impeding their forward motion so the vines had time to wind around their ankles. Because it was the middle of autumn, he needed to use his magic to spur the sluggish vegetation.
“What the...” Jack swore.
“The vines!” Princess dropped her barrel and yanked her sword out.
Kerrick increased his efforts, hoping to trap them before they could cut the vines.
“Just calm down,” Sylas said.
But his companions ignored him. Dumping the barrels, they thrashed and swung their swords.
“Death Lily,” the third man cried out. “Has to be—”
“Not possible,” Sylas said.
“You lying sack of— Eep.” A vine twisted around the other lady’s sword arm.
They fought and struggled, but the vines soon ensnared them. While they accused and blamed each other for their predicament, Kerrick leaned against a tree, panting from the exertion.
What now?
He listed his options. One—keep them immobilized until Avry arrived. It’d work for a day, maybe two, but after that it would be cruel.
Two—the forest could transport them away from the entrance and then release them. But what would stop them from returning with more armed men and cutting a path? Nothing.
Three—scare them away. How? Every citizen of Ozero Realm was terrified of the priests and acolytes. Perhaps he could... No. If they’d been caught by priests they’d be arrested, not warned off. What about a rival gang? He huffed in amusement. A gang of two—him and Hux—real scary. And yet... Something snagged in his mind. A ghost of the fores
t. That wouldn’t quite work. But when combined with Quain’s weed boy...
A silly idea popped in his head. He almost dismissed it, but, upon deeper inspection, it might just work if he could pull it off with a straight face. If the monkeys ever found out, he’d never hear the end of it. Best to ensure they didn’t find out.
Kerrick mounted Huxley. The contact transformed the horse’s hide into the colors of the forest. Signaling Hux into a quiet walk, he headed back to the trapped smugglers. Before they reached them, Kerrick stopped Hux and invited the vines to spiral up Hux’s legs. The horse cocked his ear back and turned his head to peer at Kerrick with his left eye, questioning.
Kerrick patted him on the neck. “It’s okay,” he whispered.
The easygoing horse seemed satisfied and stood still while the vines wrapped around them both. Weed Boy, the ghost of the forest was ready to make a grand entrance.
Moving at a slow pace to accommodate the vines, Kerrick and Hux stepped into view. The smugglers’ bickering ceased the moment they noticed him.
With a booming voice, Kerrick asked, “Who dares enter my forest?”
They stared at him for a moment. He hoped they saw a giant leaf creature.
“Uh,” Jack said. “This isn’t your—”
“Silence!” Kerrick raised his arm.
The vines holding Jack gagged him, muffling his cries of distress.
“Anyone else care to correct me?” Kerrick asked.
The rest remained quiet.
“Good. You must leave my forest and never return. Or...” Kerrick urged the vines to tighten around the captives, making it hard for them to breathe. When he was certain they’d gotten the point, he eased the pressure. “Understand?”
They nodded. Even Jack.
“Good. Now be gone!” He swept his arm dramatically—the monkeys would be giggling by now.
The vines dragged the smugglers along the forest floor. Kerrick and Hux followed. When they reached the main path, Kerrick had the vines release the smugglers.
They staggered to their feet and, without a backward glance, bolted down the path. Kerrick wondered if they’d warn their cohorts away, or if he’d have to deal with more intruders before Avry and the others arrived. He resigned himself to the fact that weed boy might be needed again.
Taste of Darkness (An Avry of Kazan Novel - Book 3) Page 21
