by K. C. May
Ludo cast a smile at her. “Much has changed.”
They continued in silence for a half hour longer, turning down some paths and walking past others. The floor became increasingly uneven and strewn with debris of both stone and old wood.
“The way ahead is blocked,” Ludo said, stopping. “Collapsed.”
“Challenge the bloody god,” Korlan said. “Do you hear that rumbling? Retar’s bollocks, the whole thing’s about to come down on top of us.”
“Nay,” Arc said. “’Tis the rumble of wagon wheels on the street above. Calm thyself.”
Ahead, Jora made out the dim form of a debris pile that reached to the ceiling. Indeed, the tunnel had collapsed, blocking their way. “Is there another way out of the city?”
“North,” Ludo said. “Go back.”
Everyone turned around, putting Arc in the lead.
“Step left so that Foul can get past without burning you,” Jora said, tugging Finn’s arm to urge him to hug the left wall. “Go on,” she told Foul. Everyone shifted left, and the smoldering raccoon-like creature shuffled past. She followed him and fell into step behind Arc.
He led them back the way they’d come, with Arc directing Foul with commands to veer left or right. At some point their path diverged, for she didn’t recognize the doorways and side paths. Foul hissed and spit fire at the rats that didn’t get out of his way quickly enough. One caught fire and ran squealing in mad circles, filling the tunnel with the stench of burning fur and flesh.
“Foul, stop that,” Jora said. “Don’t burn them.”
“They are rats,” Arc said.
“Yes, but being a rat is no crime. They’re merely doing what they were born to do. That’s a terrible way to die.”
“Halt,” Ludo said in a loud whisper.
“What is it?” Rivva asked.
He shushed her and held up a hand. No one moved. In the distance behind them, Jora heard voices echoing off the stone walls.
“They’re here,” Korlan said. “They’re coming.”
“Hurry,” Jora said, pushing Arc from behind.
“We shall fight them here,” Ludo said as he drew his sword.
“Nay,” Arc said. “We must find a defensible position. Come.” He started off at a jog, and the others followed suit. He paused every couple dozen yards to test a door, ramming it with his shoulder. All held firm, and he continued on, checking every door as they passed.
“What do these doors lead to?” Jora asked.
“Shops and homes. I wot nie which are empty, but any room is better defended than this.” He rammed his shoulder against another door to no effect. “Ludo and I must stand beside one another.”
The voices and footsteps grew ever closer, as did the yellow glow from their candles and lamps. Anxiety crept up the back of Jora’s neck. Hurry, she wanted to say, but she knew they were going as fast as possible.
Arc pushed past Foul and ran ahead to the next door, checked its handle, and then shoved it with his shoulder. It gave a few inches, and with another couple of hard shoves, it opened with the scraping sound of something heavy sliding across the floor. “Here,” he said. “We will find sanctuary therein.” He shoved aside a heavy wooden table, and ushered them all inside.
By the light of Foul’s red glow, Jora saw they were in another store room, this one filled with old books and scrolls arranged on shelves, and crates stacked four and five high against the walls. Jora’s first impression was that they had found the library. A few crates were opened and sitting atop the table that had been blocking the door. Ludo shut the door behind him, and he and Arc pushed the table back in front of it.
Everyone stood stock still, barely daring to breathe. The only sound in the room was that of Foul’s crackling breath.
Footsteps and voices neared. “They went in here, sir,” someone said on the other side of the door.
Something bumped the door, knocking it open by a fraction of an inch. Arc and Ludo took a wide stance to brace themselves and pushed against the table, trapping the door shut behind it. Korlan helped, and Finn took the same position. With the four men pushing the table, that door would not open, no matter how many men pushed on the other side.
Their pursuers tried. They pounded and shoved and battered the door with their bodies, but their efforts were fruitless. “Stand aside,” said a man outside. Feet shuffled, and then the door shuddered, this time with an accompanying snap like splintering wood. A crack appeared in the surface of the door. They were hitting it with an axe. They were going to chop through the door.
“Go,” Arc whispered over his shoulder.
Jora went to the door in the opposite wall and eased it open. Foul’s dim red glow was the only light. A loud crack of wood sent a splinter through her heart. Behind her, the enforcers were breaking through. She could see them through a long, narrow cleft in the door. An idea occurred to her.
She grabbed a few of the scrolls and papers and tossed them onto the table. “Stand back,” she said, pulling Arc’s arm. “Foul, here.”
With a hiss of flame, the paper burst into flame. A few of the men on the other side of the door cried out in surprise. Foul hissed his fiery breath again, and the door itself caught fire.
“Go, go,” Ludo said. He relit his candle and corralled everyone out of the room while Foul spat fire at the would-be intruders.
Arc took Rivva’s candle from her, lit it with Ludo’s flame, and took the lead. The group shuffled through the door into a corridor that stretched for a few dozen feet. Another door was at the far end, and two more in the left wall. To the right was a darkened recess. In the dim glow of Arc’s candle, she saw a narrow wooden staircase. “Here,” she said. “Stairs.” Rivva took hold of Jora’s tunic in the back, her breathing loud and shallow in Jora’s ear. Jora reached for her hand, and she gripped it.
“Come,” Arc said as he led them up. The wood creaked and groaned under their weight.
At the top of the stairs was another door. Dim golden light streamed underneath it. Jora was unsure whether they should enter, but she knew they couldn’t stay on the stairs. Below, the roaring fire and yelling men spurred her on, as did Korlan’s urging Arc to go. He thumbed the latch, opened the door, and stepped in. Jora followed him and found herself in a familiar carpeted hallway.
Oh, no, she thought. They weren’t in the library at all. This was The First Godly Redeemer House of Prayer.
Chapter 30
They followed the hallway to the right, which Jora believed was the direction of the dominee’s office. She didn’t know how many of the devoted, monks, and cantors were in the building, or whether the dominee herself was there, but they would surely encounter someone soon, and when they did, chaos would ensue.
They turned left and crept to the end of the hallway. Jora spotted the room where the god vessels were kept. People were probably communing with Retar at that moment. She was torn between shooing them away and leaving them alone.
Arc led them left again. On the left was another door, perhaps someone’s office. On the right, a few feet farther down, was a door that Jora calculated would lead to the altar at the front of the nave. Before she could warn him not to open that door, he did.
“Attack,” someone shouted.
With a thud, a crossbow bolt struck the door beside Arc. Another pinged against the blade of his voulge, right next to his face. With eyes wide in surprise, he slammed the door shut.
“Gar!” Ludo cried.
“The temple overrunneth wyth soldiers,” Arc said. “Have we an exit elsewhither?”
Ludo opened the door across the hall and peeked inside. “Hither. We can hold this emplacement.”
Jora and Rivva went in first, followed by Finn and Korlan. The room was sizeable with a bookcase on one wall, and stiff, wooden chairs aligned in rows, facing the far end of the room. A board, similar to those in the Command Room, hung on the wall. On it, someone had written Evacuate the temple immediately.
“Let’s push these chairs together out of the
way,” Rivva said.
While Arc and Ludo discussed their defense strategy, the others shoved and stacked the chairs along the far wall, which gave the two Colossi space to fight if they needed to retreat into the room. Rivva knelt against the wall opposite the door, safe from any stray arrows or bolts coming from the nave.
“Let me send Po Teng out there to statuize everyone,” Jora said.
“Nay,” Ludo said, “he will take too much damage ere he gets it done. There are many soldiers.”
“I agree,” Arc said.
“But he can move apace,” Jora argued.
“Kepe him wyth thee for to protect thyself and the princess should we fall.”
Jora screwed her lips as she looked at Po Teng, remembering Sundancer’s lesson about borrowing her ally’s magic. While it was tempting to borrow his ability to sleep or statue someone, the most useful ability under the current circumstances was to move quickly. “I want to borrow your speed,” she said. “Teach me the command.”
He hummed the notes for her with his plate-like lips.
The door burst open, and two soldiers stormed in, swords raised. Someone muttered an oath, and sword met steel with a ear-piercing shriek. Jora, standing near the door of the room, stumbled backward in surprise. Arc and Ludo, flanking the door within the corridor, took the two attacking soldiers down easily, but two more followed, and two more after that. They fought hard, stabbing and slicing. Men screamed and cried out warnings to their peers. With each death Ludo dealt, he announced, “Spirol for the god,” as if he were keeping count.
Korlan drew his sword and stood beside the room’s open doorway, his back against the wall, ready to attack anyone who made it past the Colossi in the hallway.
Finn took Jora by the arm and pulled her away from the door. “Get away from there,” he hissed. “Go over by Princess Rivva. Korlan, see if you can reach a weapon.”
Korlan squatted down and peered around the door frame. He reached for something, then pulled back dragging a dropped sword, his face and arm spattered with spilled blood as Arc and Ludo made corpses of the men who tried to storm the hallway.
The men commanding the assault called for a cease. “Move the bodies,” Arc said. Korlan left the room for a moment. Jora leaned away from the wall enough to see the three of them dragging blood-drenched corpses away from the door. Finally, Arc was able to close the door that led to the altar.
The metallic smell of blood mixed with urine and feces wafted into the room. The smell of death.
“They will try to draw us out,” Ludo said.
“Get thee vom doorway,” Arc said, waving Jora back. A gruesome wash of blood covered him from head to toe and dripped down his chain mail and onto the floor around his feet.
“What do we do now?” Korlan asked. “We need a plan. We can’t stay in here forever.”
“Now that we’re trapped in here,” Rivva said, “they’ll send for my father. We wait until he arrives so we can negotiate.”
“I hope he’ll listen,” Jora said.
“Hope nie,” Arc said. “Thou art the portwatcher. Have faith, as I do in thee. Hope crawls through the fire and burns; faith leaps over and emerges unscathed.”
She blinked at him, flattered by his confidence and emboldened by his words.
A crossbow bolt struck the door, followed by another. A few arrows struck it as well, thudding hard and splintering the wood on the other side.
Jora sucked in her breath, her determination faltering. It was hard to be fearless when the people outside were trying to kill her.
“Stop!” a man’s voice bellowed from outside. “For Challenger’s sake. My daughter is in there, you fools. Put down your weapons, all of you.”
“Open the door,” the king said. He was near the door, his voice plainly audible. “Let us talk civilly. Lower the weapons, men.”
On Arc’s nod, Ludo opened the door slowly, cautiously, standing behind it and out of the line of fire. Rivva stepped into his line of sight. Jora, standing behind her, could see the king over her shoulder, but the archers wouldn’t dare try to kill her and chance hitting the princess.
“Rivva, come to me, doll,” King Yaphet said, holding his arms out toward her like he would a little girl who’d been scared and lost in a dark forest.
“No, Papa,” she said. “Not until you hear what Jora has to say.”
“Absolutely not,” Dominee Ibsa said, standing behind the king. “She’ll use her pet monsters against you or fill your mind with lies and trickery.”
“I’m perfectly capable of judging the truth for myself,” he said.
“What assurances do we have that she won’t simply kill you and steal the throne for herself?” Ibsa asked.
Finn took a step forward. “I’ll go in trade.”
“Finn, no,” Jora said, her voice pleading.
“They won’t hurt me. Not with the king’s life in your hands.” His gaze softened. “Though I’ve not always been the best brother, I know you wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize my life, and I suspect they know it too.”
“Send Rivva out, and I’ll come in her stead,” Yaphet offered.
“Finn’s right,” Rivva said. “They wouldn’t dare hurt him as long as my father’s in here with us. He’ll be perfectly safe, as will the king.”
Jora’s entire body trembled at the thought of sending Finn out there with the soldiers and enforcers, but Rivva was right. With the king and princess here with her, they would be foolish to hurt him.
“I would go wyth him if thou wishest it, portwatcher,” Ludo said. “I shall protect him.”
“No, I’ve no bargaining power for your life. Only for Finn’s. All right,” Jora called to the men outside. “I’m sending my brother, Finn. If any harm should come to him, you’ll be sorry.” She hugged Finn tightly. “I’ll get you back safely. I swear it.”
He patted her back and then broke the embrace.
“I’m coming in with two guards,” the king said.
“Nay,” Ludo said. “’Tis a trick.”
“You have two Colossi and an enforcer with you,” King Yaphet said. “You’ll allow me men of my own.”
Jora looked to Arc, who nodded. “It will be fine,” he said. “Allow him two men.”
“Captain Bulcke, Justice Captain Milad,” Yaphet said. The Legion officer and justice captain stepped forward, each armed with a sword and crossbow. The king started forward, but he paused when he saw Dominee Ibsa fall into step with him. “What are you doing?”
“I’m going with you.”
“No. Stay here where it’s safe, Dominee.”
“No,” she drawled, her eyes hard, “I’m going with you. You’ll not deny me in my temple. Must I remind you of the consequences?”
Yaphet sighed. “One of these days, I’m not going to give a damn about your threats.”
“But today is not one of them.” Dominee Ibsa stormed forward, her shoulders square and her head high. Yaphet shook his head and followed her.
They passed Finn with barely an acknowledging glance as he walked past them. He was immediately surrounded by armed enforcers and soldiers, taken by the arms and held steady.
The king and dominee entered the hallway, stepped over the arm of a fallen soldier, and came into the room, their shoes leaving bloody prints on the bare wood floor. King Yaphet went directly to Rivva and took her into his arms.
“I’m fine, Papa,” she said softly.
He pulled back, his face taut with concern. “Why are you here?”
“Because I believe in her the way I once believed in you.”
His brow dipped. “Have I disappointed you so terribly?”
“You should’ve been stronger,” she said. “You could’ve been a great king. Instead, you’re nothing but a puppet with her hand up your shirt.” Rivva shot a glare at the dominee.
“Mind yourself, girl,” Ibsa said. “You’ve no idea who you’re talking to.”
“An appointed official who can easily be unappointed,” Ri
vva shot back.
“What do you want?” Yaphet asked, shifting his gaze to Jora. “What must I do to convince you to return my daughter to me?”
“Papa, I’m here of my own free will,” Rivva said gently.
“As for what I want,” Jora said, “it’s simple. End the war.”
“Do you honestly believe I could snap my fingers and end one hundred twelve years of fighting? You’re nothing but a naïve girl with no understanding of how the world truly works.”
“That may be true, but you can end the war, and we’re here to tell you how to do it.”
“Shess will become an independent nation with a single export product,” Jora explained, “which it will manage as it sees fit. Should one nation attempt to attack it to gain sole control over the land and its resources, the other three nations will coordinate a defense in the interest of restoring sovereignty.”
“That’s absurd,” Dominee Ibsa said with a harsh laugh. “We’ll be back where we started or we’ll be fighting to regain the Tree we lost.”
“No,” Rivva said, “not if we form an official alliance, a treaty of unified nations, coming together for this one purpose. Each country benefits equally, and each country is equally responsible for maintaining the peace.”
“The godfruit belongs to us,” Dominee Ibsa said, “and we’ll manage it as we see fit.”
From down the hall came the loud squawk of a parrot.
“I believe Retar has something to say about it,” Jora said.
“Allow me,” Rivva said as she slipped out of the room.
“I can’t expect you to understand,” Ibsa said. “Retar needs the war in order to thrive.”
“He explained it to me,” Jora said. “You’re the one who doesn’t understand. People die every day all over the world whether there’s a war or not. Making the godfruit more widely available would help him.”
Rivva returned with a gray parrot perched on her forearm. A brilliant sparkle lit its golden eyes.
“Retar, is that you?” Jora asked.
“It is, indeed. Good afternoon, Jora. King Yaphet. Dominee Ibsa.” The bird turned to regard Arc and Ludo. “Archesilaus and…?”
