Allan, Cutter, Artras, and those carrying the litter had already descended the steps to the square. The Tunnelers had emerged from the doorway and were fanning out. Gaven and Aaron passed Kara as she turned to thank Cason, Jack and Tim behind them, but the words caught in her throat.
Cason was scanning the far edge of the square. “Where are they? They should have been here by now.”
Beside her, looking troubled, Sorelle silently mouthed, “Run.”
Kara jerked around. “Allan! Wait!”
The ex-Dog turned, hand falling to the handle of his sword. Adder and Glenn reacted as well, both glancing back over their shoulders, but Cutter and Jack acted the swiftest. Both trackers slid into crouches, bows up, an arrow appearing in their hands, nocked, and ready to aim in the space of a breath.
At the same time, archers appeared across the rooftops around the entire square and in the windows of the higher stories of the buildings, all of them ready to fire. Glenn swore, he and Adder dropping Dylan unceremoniously to the ground, hands going to swords. Every Dog in the group drew blades at nearly the same moment, crouching down, although there was no cover in the square at all—no debris, no abandoned carts or wagons, nothing. That should have been their first clue. Kara hadn’t seen anyplace in Erenthrall without some kind of debris since they’d entered the city. They were pinned down, their only option the streets leading out of the square.
But as she scanned those, she noted that at least three of them were blocked off, probably using whatever had been cleaned out of the square. The two on either side of the node were covered by the Tunnelers. Only two other streets remained open, both on the side opposite the node. Four figures dressed in white cloaks with hoods drawn and a forked symbol embroidered in black on the chest stepped into the square from one of those streets. They were surrounded by at least ten others in guard uniforms with red shirts and black pants, all with swords drawn. The archers wore the same uniform. Another set of guards escorted a horse-drawn wagon out of the second street, but halted once they’d entered the edge of the square.
Both Cutter and Jack swung their bows toward those in the white cloaks. The Dogs faced them as well, since they couldn’t do anything about the archers. Artras had pulled her knife.
“What’s going on, Cason?” Allan’s voice carried through the stillness of the square. “Who are these people?”
“We’re called the White Cloaks,” the leading figure in white said, then calmly raised a hand, two fingers extended. He gestured—
And arrows shot down from the rooftops.
Kara cried out involuntarily. Jack and Cutter both lurched, Cutter biting off a curse as he fell, his arrow releasing and slamming into the side of one of the houses. He clutched at his upper arm, a shaft protruding from the muscle there. He tried to raise the arm, but winced and settled into a lower crouch instead. Kara could see blood already soaking into his shirt.
Jack’s body merely slumped, his arrow firing harmlessly into the stone of the square and skittering away. Artras, closest to him, leaped to his side and rolled him onto his back.
The elder Wielder looked toward Kara, stricken. “He’s dead.”
Kara had known the moment Artras rolled him over. An arrow shaft jutted from his eye.
Glenn started forward, but Adder grabbed onto the Dog’s shirt, hand fisted in the cloth, and halted him before he could take two steps.
The White Cloak’s arm was still raised.
“No one move.” Allan lowered his sword, but didn’t drop it. The rest of the Dogs followed his lead.
Behind, Cason descended the steps, four of the Tunnelers flanking her, including Sorelle. They bypassed those from the Hollow, heading toward the White Cloaks, but stopped well away from the group.
“We brought you the Wielders. Where are our supplies?”
“Which ones are the Wielders?” One of the others had spoken, not the one holding his hand up. The voice was female. Authoritative.
Cason turned. “The one on the litter, named Dylan, and Kara, the female standing closest to the node. I suspect the older woman is as well. I’m not certain about the others.”
“We’ll test them as soon as we return to the Needle. In the meantime . . . Iscivius?”
The man lowered his arm. “Bring out the wagons!”
On the far side of the square, the single wagon rolled to one side. Behind, four more wagons appeared, angling across the square toward where Cason and the others waited. Cason signaled, and Sorelle and the others with her trotted forward while the guards with the wagons jumped down and backed off. The Tunnelers searched the wagons, calling out to Sorelle in lowered voices. Sorelle flung the tarp covering her wagon back, then grinned. “It’s all here.”
Cason turned back to the White Cloaks. “Then they’re all yours.”
A stricken look crossed Sorelle’s face, but she climbed up into the seat of the first wagon, taking up the reins. The White Cloak guards on the ground began to move toward Kara and the others, everyone tensing—
A howl cut through the square, cold and forlorn and incredibly close.
The hackles on Kara’s neck prickled and her arms shivered with gooseflesh. “It can’t be.” As the howl began to fade, visions of Hagger’s attack after the Shattering flooded her mind.
Someone screamed, the sound torn apart by a vicious growl.
Everyone twisted toward the sounds, the guards near the second street crying out then turning to flee as five Wolves tore into their rear ranks with snarls. Kara saw one of them snap its jaws on a man’s throat and twist, tearing it out as it continued on, already tackling another man to the ground and seizing a flailing arm, ripping it from the man’s shoulder. The others fell on the guards with the same abandon, clawing and tearing at whatever came within range. The street slicked with blood.
The nearest horse screamed, the sound raking down Kara’s back, but howls broke out behind her and she spun. The Tunnelers who’d been keeping Kara and the rest from retreating back to the node were being overwhelmed. Wolves streamed out of open windows and doors on the lower levels of the buildings, leaped over the barricades at the end of the blocked streets. Everywhere she looked, men and women were falling beneath their teeth and claws.
Glenn grabbed her arm and hauled her to one side. “Get to the wagons! Stay behind them!”
She didn’t understand why until an arrow snapped past her head, shattering against the stone of the square. The White Cloak archers on the roofs were firing at anything in the square that moved. Glenn pushed her from behind as they headed toward the four supply wagons in a low crouch, but the horses hitched to the wagons were already prancing, eyes rolled back in fear. Sorelle fought to control hers, but it reared, nostrils flared as it scented the Wolves, and then bolted. Sorelle was jerked back, reins lost, and fell down into the footwell. Arrows thunked into the wood where she’d sat. The horse tore across the square then veered sharply left as more Wolves appeared in its path, hounding the Tunnelers. It careened back toward the White Cloaks, who scattered as it raced through their ranks. The Wolves hadn’t appeared at that corner yet. Sorelle’s wagon vanished down the street, supplies spilling from its back.
“Left!” Glenn hauled Kara toward one of the remaining wagons. None of the other horses had bolted, but they were fighting the hitches. Allan and most of Kara’s group were racing for cover ahead of them, Adder hauling Dylan along using only one side of the litter, the other handles scraping along the ground. He made it halfway to the nearest wagon before Dylan jounced and spilled out onto the ground, yelping as his bad leg twisted beneath him. Adder tossed the litter aside and hauled Dylan up over his shoulder like a grain sack, skittering to a halt and dumping the Wielder to the ground near a wagon wheel next to Artras and Aaron. The Dog barked an order to Artras, who leaped up and started cutting the horse’s ties.
Kara reached the wagon next to Artras’, ducking d
own as arrows spat across the air above her, Glenn at her side. Allan, Gaven, and Cutter had taken shelter at the last wagon. She didn’t see Tim or Carter anywhere.
“What do we do now?”
“You do nothing. They’re after you, so stay put unless you’re attacked.” Then Glenn took off at a crouch along the edge of the wagon.
“Wait! Where are you going?”
Glenn skirted the wagon next to them, then dodged to Allan’s wagon. Kara leaned back against the wheel behind her, but it lurched as the horse thrashed side to side. Someone cried out in the footwell, and she realized the Tunneler that had taken charge of the wagon had ducked down into the space for cover. She edged up beneath where the driver sat and peered inside.
The Tunneler wasn’t one she recognized.
“Give me your sword. Or your knife. Some kind of blade.”
The boy hesitated.
“Now!”
Cursing, he scrambled for a knife sheathed at his waist, pulled it, held it out—
And an arrow thunked into the wood straight through the back of his hand.
He screamed, dropped the knife, and jerked his hand instinctively. The shaft of the arrow slid through the wound partway, then snapped off. He reared up, hand held before him, the arrow jutting out from one side, but two more arrows struck him in the back. His scream cut off and he slumped forward into the footwell, head hanging out the side, facing Kara.
She pulled down and back, head cracking into the sideboard. She swallowed, mouth dry, the entire square full of screams, grunts, and growls. The Tunnelers were fighting back against the Wolves, the stairs at the node a scene of turmoil. Cason had retreated to their edge, her blade swinging in wide arcs, slicing into animal flesh in a broad circle around her and two others. Most of the rest of the Tunnelers still alive were ranged up the stairs, keeping the Wolves at bay. Bodies lay everywhere, including one Wolf. Cason and the Tunnelers were slowly pulling back to the node’s doors, one side already closed.
The wagon lurched again. Kara steeled herself, then reached into the footwell, fingers scrambling to find the knife the Tunneler had dropped. Another arrow thudded into the wagon seat above her and she yelled, “Target the damn Wolves!” as her fingers closed over a steel handle, too large to be a knife. She gripped the sword and yanked, but it wouldn’t budge, lodged beneath the Tunneler’s body. Swearing, she let it go and continued to search until she found the knife in the center of a pool of blood. She snatched it out of the footwell.
The entire cart suddenly heaved, the horse rearing, feet kicking. It landed hard enough that Kara felt the jolt through the stone at her feet, then it charged off, cracking something inside the wagon.
It left Kara exposed.
“Kara!”
She spun toward Adder’s voice, noted Artras and Aaron had freed their own horse, the animal racing toward the only opening available—the corner street where the four wagons had come from. It charged through the dead bodies there, trampling a few.
“The street!” Kara pointed. “It’s clear!”
Adder jerked around, then called to Allan. Aaron and Artras had moved to the far side of the wagon, closer to Glenn’s position, supporting Dylan between them.
Kara had taken a step toward them when someone tackled her from the side, bearing her to the ground.
She struck the stone pavement hard, but she held on to the knife. She struggled, kicking and stabbing, but whoever it was had wrapped their arms around her torso. Her attacker lay on top of her, crushing her. She couldn’t breathe.
“You,” the person ground out through clenched teeth, “aren’t going anywhere.”
She recognized the folds of scuffed white cloth of the man’s cloak—
And then the square erupted in a surge of white ley light.
“What do we do now?”
Allan turned at the question, Glenn hunkered down beside him in the lee of the wagon. Gaven and Cutter were huddled at the front wheel, Cutter’s arm hanging limply, its entire length sheathed in blood. The tracker’s face was pale.
Allan glanced toward the other two wagons: Artras and Aaron working to free their horse, Kara sliding toward the footwell. “We get Kara and the other Wielders out of here.”
“And how do we do that?”
Artras suddenly stumbled backward, Aaron catching her, as their horse charged away.
“We steal a wagon.” Allan motioned toward the first wagon that had showed up in the square, still off to one side. The Wolves had ripped through the White Cloak guards that had escorted it, so it sat by itself, unattended, its horse’s sides lathered in fear sweat, its legs trembling. But it hadn’t bolted yet.
From behind, Adder shouted, “Kara says the street in the corner is clear!”
Allan and Glenn both turned, then edged up to the end of the wagon and peered around it.
“She’s right.” Glenn patted the wagon they were hiding next to. “Why not take this one?”
“It’s full of supplies. That one’s empty. We need room to hold Cutter and Dylan.”
“Go for the reins. I’ll protect Gaven and Cutter.”
Allan didn’t wait, sheathing his sword and charging the short distance between their refuge and the other wagon. Arrows cracked into the stone near his feet, but he ignored them, skimming around the back of the wagon to the side nearest the buildings. Protected on two sides now, he worked his way to the front of the wagon, the horse snorting and growing more agitated as he neared it. He tried to calm it with words as he scrambled into the footwell, hunched down, and snatched the reins up in one hand.
The wagon lurched, and he twisted to see Gaven helping Cutter climb into the back, Glenn behind them with sword drawn.
“Glenn, get the others! Did anyone see what happened to Tim or Carter?”
“I saw Tim grab Carter and head toward the node’s stairs.” Gaven practically threw Cutter up into the empty bed of the wagon. Cutter groaned in agony as he landed, rolling to one side. Gaven climbed in after him.
Allan spun toward the node, caught sight of Tim and Carter hunched down in a niche at the steps’ base.
And then the square erupted in white ley light. Gouts of it poured directly out of the stone across its length, fountaining up just as Allan had seen it do during his time as a Dog at the sowing of the Flyers’ Tower. He flinched back from it, arm raised protectively, remembering how it had killed some of the lords and ladies who’d been stupid enough to be out on exposed balconies. But this ley light wasn’t nearly as turbulent or active as that had been, rising only twice the height of a man. It was enough to spook the horse, though, which lurched forward against the wagon’s brake. Allan pulled the reins, trying to calm it, as the surges of ley continued. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the White Cloaks standing to one side of the plaza, arms raised, and realized they were Wielders. But then the horse reared and jerked forward. The brake released with a groan, and suddenly the wagon was shuddering forward.
He hauled back on the reins again, but the animal ignored him, cutting sharply left as a wall of ley light spurted up in front of it. Allan slid to the edge of the seat, catching himself with one hand, heard Gaven and Cutter being thrown around the bed, and then the entire wagon jumped as it ran over the bodies scattered over the square. Allan gave up on the reins and clung to the seat as the horse continued to turn. The node’s stairs swung into view, and Tim, lurching up as if to try for the wagon, but the burning ley light separated them. Carter dragged him back down into hiding. Then they were rounding back toward the other wagons. Kara was struggling with one of the White Cloaks on the ground, also separated by a wall of ley. She slashed the White Cloak across the face with her knife, blood splattering his cloak, and then he snatched her wrist and drove it into the ground until the blade tumbled from her grip. Beyond her, the others cowered against their wagon, Adder standing over Dylan with Aaron at his side
, Glenn at the end of the last wagon holding tight to Artras’ arm.
Glenn’s intent hit Allan a second before the horse finished the turn and shot straight for the open street beyond.
At the same time, to the far left, the Wolves broke through the White Cloak guards’ resistance. Three of the Wolves charged Allan’s wagon from that side.
Beyond them, behind the roil of guards and Wolves, Allan saw the pack’s leader, standing in the middle of the street, watching. Except he wasn’t focused on where his Wolves were ripping the guards to shreds, nor where the White Cloaks were controlling the ley.
His attention was fixed on Allan.
“Watch out for the Wolves!” Allan pointed as the wagon rocketed past Glenn and Artras and the others. Glenn shoved Artras before him, but she was already running, Glenn on her heels. They fell in behind the wagon, Allan reaching for the reins and pulling back on them hard to slow the horse. He glanced over his shoulder, saw Artras snatching at the bed of the wagon with one hand, almost there. The Wolves leaped over a wall of ley, one getting caught. It yelped as it tumbled to one side, part of its leg and haunch missing where it had been touched, but the others left it behind, snarling after Glenn and Artras, teeth snapping at the air.
Artras put on a burst of speed and vaulted onto the back of the bed, almost slipping off before Glenn shoved her hard, rolling her forward into Cutter and Gaven. They grabbed her and hauled her deeper into the bed as Glenn scrambled to follow. He jumped, caught hold of one side, feet dragging behind him, then hauled himself up, the cords sticking out in his neck at the effort.
He’d barely managed to collapse to the bed when Artras yelled, “Look out!”
Allan shifted in time to see the two Wolves leap. The first landed on top of Glenn, who’d rolled onto his back at the warning and raised one arm in defense. The Wolf’s jaw snapped shut on his forearm and shook, Glenn roaring in pain. The second Wolf scrabbled for a hold, claws digging gouges in the bed of the wagon, but lost its footing and tumbled out of the back of the wagon to the road.
Threading the Needle Page 25
