“We can grab what’s left in the wagon.”
“No, we can’t. Not with the Rats out there.”
“But—”
“No! If even one of them sees us, it’s over. Our only chance is to sneak away and hope that the Rats don’t notice the wagon. We can come back for the food later.”
Kara sucked in a breath to protest, but Adder suddenly appeared. “We have a new problem.”
“What?”
He motioned them out into the hall, then toward the front room where Glenn stood guard. The Dog gestured toward the far side of the large window looking out onto the street. “To the left.”
Allan circled around the room, Kara on his heels, both keeping to the shadows. Glenn waved at Adder, who nodded and disappeared back in the direction of the dining room.
Allan halted when he saw the group of Rats on the street, one hand behind to warn Kara to stay back. Then he eased forward, the wooden floor creaking beneath his weight. The street was nearly empty, although he could hear the sounds of the battle being waged in the ley station’s square from here. But a large group of Rats had been left behind, mostly the younger children. An older boy was giving out orders, pointing and motioning in different directions, Rats breaking away from the group in pairs or triples. All of them carried weapons, although they were mostly cudgels and knives.
“What’s happening?” Kara’s voice was no more than a puff of air at his back.
“They’re sending out scouts.” He glanced upward, close enough to the window he could see the rooftops of the buildings across the way. A few shadowy figures were looking down at the group below.
When he looked back down, the Rat’s leader waved toward their section of the street and three of the Rats broke toward them—two older girls, one Morrell’s age, and a boy. Their eyes were startlingly white in their dirt-smeared faces beneath scraggly hair. Their expressions were feral.
“Go tell the others to get to the back of the house. Take whatever they can grab, nothing more. Tell Kent to start sending people up over the wall.”
Kara backed away. Allan turned back to the street, but the pack of Rats had completely dispersed. He didn’t see the group headed toward their location, but he caught Glenn motioning toward the left. The Dog mouthed, “Three doors down.”
Allan eased back from the window and moved to Glenn’s side.
“I sent Adder to the roof to get Jack and Cutter. Tim’s still in the pantry with the horses.”
“I’ll get him. We’re going out the back. I’m not waiting for them to find us.”
“Better hurry. The Rats aren’t wasting any time.”
Outside, they could see one of the groups trotting past them, headed farther down the street, well beyond their position. The two Dogs watched them in silence until they’d vanished, both tense.
“Let’s hope they aren’t headed for the rooftops.”
He snagged Tim from the pantry, the horses restless, sensing the rising tension. They found the others gathered around the back door, Kent shoving them through. Adder already stood near the trellises. Allan caught Cutter’s body slipping over the top of the wall, Jack a few seconds behind, and two of the Wielders were running toward Adder’s position, shoulders hunched as if they expected to be attacked any second. The rest fidgeted as they waited, as nervous as the horses. Gaven and Aaron went next, packs jouncing on their backs as they hustled to where Artras and Dylan were climbing the walls. Allan shoved Tim forward, he and Carter waiting for the Hollowers to start climbing.
Glenn suddenly appeared.
“We need to move it! That patrol is moving to this house now!”
Allan spun to find Tim and Carter gone, racing toward the trellises. “Kara and Kent, you’re next. Go!”
Neither one hesitated, dodging out into the distortion-lit night, ignoring the garden paths and shoving through brush to reach the wall. Adder practically flung Carter onto the trellis, the young Wielder crying out. Allan flinched, then hissed in warning as he heard the door to the brownstone burst inward. He and Glenn crouched down, both with hands on their swords, as they heard footsteps on the creaking floorboards. Two of the Rats were arguing with each other.
Allan glanced out into the garden, noticed Kara and Kent near the top of the trellises. He motioned Glenn toward the door, had shifted to follow when one of the Rats—the older girl, he guessed, the one that reminded him of Morrell—suddenly barked, “Quiet! Look. Someone’s been here.”
Allan’s gaze shot to the floor, to the dust riddled with scuffed footprints.
He pushed Glenn out the door, hard on his heels. Glenn leaped for the wall, Adder already halfway up, behind Kara. Allan paused, glanced back toward the house, his skin tingling as he imagined the Rats scurrying through the brownstone’s rooms, following the tracks, discovering the horses in the pantry, the cart in the alley, heading for the back door.
His breath quickened. His hand tightened on the pommel of his sword in anticipation, slicked with sweat, but he didn’t draw. He clenched his teeth, tried to calm himself.
He wasn’t certain he could kill a girl only twelve years old, even if she did carry a knife. Except all of their lives depended on it.
At the same moment he started to draw, someone barked in surprise.
He jerked in the direction of the shout, saw a Rat standing on the rooftop two houses down, arm pointing, the distortion a vibrant backdrop behind. Another Rat suddenly appeared at his side.
The second carried a bow.
Allan jumped for the trellis, a harsh whistle piercing the muted rumble of the battle being fought mere blocks away. The sound skated down his spine as he scrambled up the wall, his fingers grabbing for handholds in the trellis and vines. He hauled himself upward, heedless of the splinters. The point of an arrow cracked into the stone to his left, followed by another, closer, on his right. Behind, the Rats inside the house shouted and poured out of the door; he caught their movement out of the corner of his eye.
Then he reached for another handhold and his arm slammed over the top of the wall. He heaved himself up and over, another arrow whistling overhead.
He fell to the ground on the far side, hitting hard, Adder reaching down to help him up, Glenn shouting orders. Pain shot through his leg, but he ignored it. They were in another garden, this one not as immaculately laid out as the last. Half of the group was already inside the house, the rest charging across the ground between. Arrows hit the earth, the house, the wall behind, but they were sporadic. The Rats only had two, maybe three archers nearby.
“Go! Get inside before they hit one of us!”
They raced across the open ground, all three of them hunched down, trying to stick to the protection of the few trees and the shadows. Kara and Kent ducked through the open door and vanished in the darkness beyond. A second later, Adder, Glenn, and Allan joined them.
Inside, he found the group arguing, frantic, but he plowed through them, headed toward the front of the house. “Keep moving! They’ll be on us in a moment.”
His voice spurred them all back into motion. The entire group plunged through the house, past broken furniture and cracked walls, then spilled out onto the street beyond. Everyone ducked, expecting arrows, but a quick look proved the rooftops were empty.
“Where do we go?” Glenn asked.
“Can we still make your new safe house?”
“Yes. But it won’t be that safe if we lead them right to it.”
“We’ll have to lose them.” Allan turned to the group. “Wielders and Hollowers, stay in the middle. Dogs, protect the flanks. Move!”
Glenn sprinted down the street, the Wielders and Hollowers on their heels, the rest of the Dogs taking up positions to either side and behind. Cutter and Jack did the same, bows set with arrows. Allan drew his sword, bringing up the rear.
They’d reached the end of the block when Rat
s began spilling out of the house they’d vacated. Allan swore as the leaders of the group pointed toward them and yelled. The entire group broke out into shrieks and bellows, like they had on the rooftop the night before, when Allan had watched them slaughter their Temerite captives. Most of the Rats’ forces were back in the ley station plaza, fighting the Tunnelers, but there were still at least thirty Rats on the street here.
And he knew there’d be more.
He spun around. “Run!”
Adder tore around the corner at the end of the block, the Wielders and Hollowers close behind, everyone at a dead run, most nearly lost in the darkness. Allan’s feet thudded into the gritty street as he dodged debris—dead ley carts, a few wagons and carts, damaged beyond easy repair. His own blood pounded in his ears. His lungs ached. He kept his attention on his pack ahead, on the Dogs and trackers. When the Dogs turned the corner, the trackers at their heels, he saw the archers skid to a halt, bows rising automatically.
Then he could see around the corner and spotted the group of ragtag fighters loping toward them. Those at the front had been brought up short by the appearance of Glenn, Adder, and the Wielders and Hollowers, but their startled looks immediately set into grim expressions at the appearance of the trackers and the bows.
They raised their makeshift weapons and charged.
Glenn and the others turned back, to retreat, but Allan motioned to his right. “Into the buildings!”
Glenn and Adder veered to their left immediately, each one grabbing one of the panicked Wielders and steering them in the same direction. Gaven and Aaron stumbled to a halt, then followed. Kara hesitated only a moment, Carter catching on a second later. Only Dylan faltered and fell. Adder caught his arm and dragged him toward the buildings to the right. The Dogs and trackers before Allan angled toward the rest of the group, Allan doing the same as the new group bore down on them from further up the street. He could hear the Rats coming in from behind. Too close. They weren’t going to make it. Not as a single group.
“Split up! Head to different houses!”
Glenn barked something Allan didn’t hear, but Adder suddenly banked to the right, heading toward the steps of a different house, Gaven, Kara, and Dylan breaking away with him. Kent followed, Tim sticking with Glenn, Artras, Aaron, and Carter.
Glenn vaulted up the few steps to the door, reared back, and kicked it in. It splintered as it came away from the frame, but Artras was already ducking through, Carter practically crawling over her back. Glenn shoved them both inside, then snagged Tim and Aaron and hurled them through. Cutter slid by before he could touch him. Adder already had the door open—Allan hadn’t seen how—shouting for the others to get inside. Jack leaped up the stairs behind them.
On the street, the Rats had rounded the corner, brought up short by the second group.
Allan abruptly realized the second group wasn’t part of the Rats.
The Tunnelers had sent a force around to flank them.
A quick scan told him that the two forces were about the same size. But the Rats could easily bring in reinforcements.
He had no more time than that. With a roar of hatred, the two forces converged in the middle of the street.
But not all of the attackers were focused on each other. At least two dozen broke away from the main group toward the buildings where Allan’s pack had fled.
He spun and climbed the steps to where Glenn held the cracked door open. As he stepped through, the Dog said, “Where to? We can’t hold them here.”
He considered, the others standing just inside the foyer. “The roof. The houses are all nearly the same size.”
“Not all of them.”
“No, but we can throw them off by moving a few buildings down first before descending back to street level.”
Tim and Aaron had already begun climbing the stairs. The rest followed, their footsteps pounding on the landing as they disappeared out of sight. Allan pressed his back into the door, planted his feet against the floor, sword raised before him.
Neither Glenn nor Cutter moved.
“Go!”
“What about you?”
Allan swore and glanced at Cutter. “We need to block the door somehow.”
At the same time, the group outside slammed into the door, pushing it inward a foot. Allan braced himself and shoved back, slamming it closed on an arm and foot attempting to slide through. Someone screamed and Allan saw blood as the door rattled and then closed with a solid thud as the arm and leg retracted. The Tunnelers outside—it had to be Tunnelers; they’d been closer—began pounding on the door, the already splintered wood shaking in its frame.
“Cutter!”
The tracker had vanished.
A heartbeat later, Cutter reappeared, dragging a heavy table behind him. He and Glenn tilted it up as he neared.
When they were ready, Allan barked, “Now!”
He dodged out of the way as they slammed the table into the door. In that split second, the Tunnelers managed to open it a hand’s span and there were more screams and cries of pain as it snapped shut on questing fingers. Cutter and Glenn held the table as Allan yanked its base around against the banister at the bottom of the stairs with his free hand, bracing it, although it wouldn’t hold for long. Then he tapped Cutter’s shoulder and all three released the table and charged up the steps. The Tunnelers shoved the door inward, cracking the table’s base into the banister, but it held. They rounded the landing and could no longer see what was happening. But by the time the stairs ended on the third floor, a gut-wrenching splintering of wood echoed up as the banister gave and they heard the Tunnelers flooding the first floor below.
Allan slowed, trying to move swiftly but silently, as they began searching the hallway above, looking for access to the roof. Cutter noticed the footprints in the dust first, leading to the trapdoor. After that, the tracks led to the back, where a folding ladder led up to the roof.
Cutter and Glenn scrambled up the ladder. Allan followed, not as nimble. As soon as he hit the roof, he turned and grabbed the ladder, yanking it upward. It clattered as it folded up on itself, nearly catching his fingers.
Cutter and Glenn were already halfway across the roof. Allan took off after them, caught movement in the space between this set of the buildings and the one a street over, and glanced down. Adder, Kara, and the rest were crawling over walls in the remains of the gardens below. Allan saw them ducking into another building on the opposite side, and then he was at the roof’s wall.
He jumped it, landed hard on the roof on the far side, and sprinted after the others, now two roofs away.
He began to think they’d escape.
But then a group of attackers spilled out of a trapdoor twenty paces ahead of Tim. Before the young Dog could react, there were a dozen of the scruffy adolescents on the roof, all with weapons, spread out and ready. Artras, Carter, and Aaron drew up short behind Tim. Farther behind, Cutter slowed, nocked an arrow and drew.
Allan slowed to a trot, then halted, as he heard the trapdoor they’d just left behind open and clatter down into the building. Without turning, he knew more of the Tunnelers were filling the rooftop behind him.
Cutter looked back, a question in his eyes. Attack or stand down?
Allan lowered his sword.
Seven
KARA’S STOMACH SCRAPED OVER THE TOP of another garden wall, her body already sore, then she dropped to the ground on the far side.
Dylan grabbed her arm and hauled her upright. “Move. They’re right behind us.”
She allowed him to lead her diagonally across the garden in a half crouch, to where Adder and Kent were ushering the rest of their group through a side door that led into a servant’s alley between two buildings. Gaven and Jack were already running ahead of them, barely discernible in the darkness. None of the distortion’s light made it into this crevice. Behind, she heard the all
ey’s door clatter shut, followed by the Dogs’ heavy tread. And behind that she could hear a sudden uproar from the Rats and Tunnelers. The raw viciousness of the sound made her chest ache.
Then they were at the street, Gaven and Jack holding them back in the shadows.
“I don’t think they saw us duck into this alley. Can we stay hidden once we’re out there?”
“Not really.”
The street was angled so that it was almost completely lit by the light thrown by the distortion. Kara expected to see another section of houses, but the landscape changed from row houses to three- and four-story tenements that spanned entire blocks, separated from each other by parks. The buildings had distinct architectural styles, to differentiate each from the other. A few surrounded their own courtyards, one or two with gates.
She glanced toward the distortion. They were closer now. “Where are the others? I thought they’d be right behind us.”
“It doesn’t matter. Allan said to get to the new safe house if we could, without being followed.” Adder had shifted forward through the group. He scanned the empty street before them, then back at the alley. The sounds of the pursuing Rats—or maybe they were Tunnelers—grew louder. “Head for the building there, with the courtyard. As fast as you can go.”
He tapped Jack’s shoulder, the tracker sprinting across the debris-strewn street. There were chunks of stone littering the street here, not just ley carts and abandoned wagons and other possessions. She wondered if they were the remains of one of Grass’ towers.
Adder sent Kent, Gaven, and Dylan next, bringing up the rear himself, Kara just before him. His footfalls behind her were light at first, then drowned out by her own breathing. Those ahead of her made it to the gates to the courtyard, the wrought iron screeching as Jack shoved it open to get inside. Adder cursed behind her—at the noise or at whatever was behind them, Kara couldn’t tell. She picked up her pace anyway, aiming for the gate as Kent and Dylan twisted through the small opening. Dylan held the gate back for her as she slowed and ducked inside, his face lifting and registering fear a moment before she slid past him. Adder’s hand shoved her out of the way and she stumbled to the interior walkway, biting back a cry as her hands scraped on the stone path.
Threading the Needle Page 12
