by Levi Jacobs
Fortunately, no one did. Or at least, they didn’t raise a cry. Tai set them down on the highest porch, what Ilrick thought was the Director General’s offices.
“Remember,” Ilrick whispered to the other fighters. “Anything valuable, anything important, anyone important, you tie it up and bring it here. Tai will lift it out, then we set the fires.”
Weiland and Pendra nodded, then disappeared with a zip and the squeak of the porch’s door opening.
Tai straightened from the bends and Ilrick clapped him on the shoulder. “Don’t go getting shot, friend. This whole thing rides on you.”
“Right. I’ll remember that.”
Tai shot upwards, hoping again that no one would notice. Patrols had increased on the walls and gates of Newgen in the last week, as their attacks ramped up and word spread. With the Houses also beefing up security, Ella said they were having trouble finding mercenaries. Ancestors let that be true. There was a real chance they’d be overwhelmed today before they could get out.
Karhail and two new brawlers were waiting in the eastern hills, Beal with them. They wore chain mail and plate, Karhail in a half-helm, swords and axes strapped all over their bodies. Tai sighed. “You guys look like you weigh a ton.”
“Well don’t worry about me,” Beal snapped. “I’ll waft myself in.”
Karhail eyed the Yershman. “You can’t waft as high as you need to, Beal.”
“I’ll be fine!”
Tai shrugged. “If not, I probably need to make two trips. The slips are in, and looks like Lumo and Sigwil got the dam working.”
“Any resistance?”
“So far they look fine. People are having trouble getting across the water to them.”
Karhail nodded. “Then let’s move.”
They locked arms around him and Tai shoved up, resonance sluggish under their combined weight. His shoulders ached from the pull, and he knew if released uai they’d likely break under the weight. Beal shoved off too, though not as high. Tai once again flew them well above Newgen’s roofs, the men discussing strategy.
“Theron, I want you on the gate. It’s narrow, easily defensible. No one comes in, on your life. Tarnst, you come with me, sweep the yard then give him support. I’ll clean the interior. Kill on sight.”
“The guards,” Tai clarified. This had been a point of contention, Karhail and some of the others wanting to kill them all, Tai arguing that, aside from being innocent, killing regular workers would just turn public opinion against them.
“Right.”
The men nodded, and despite his tough exterior Tai was amused to see Karhail carefully avoiding looking down. “Dropping you down now. The courtyard, yeah?”
“Right.”
Tai let go of the air, their weight pulling them down fast. “Looks like two, maybe three men there. Hitting in three—two—one—“
He shoved up hard, breaking their fall. The brawlers leapt off him on impact, air suddenly crackling with uai. Two of the guards dropped without a sound, the third crying out before Theron ran him through, shout dying in a gurgle.
Men ran toward them from the gate, and Tai heard a bowstring snap on the wall. “Meckstains.” He shot up as his friends engaged the next wave of fighters, wanting to help but needing to follow the plan.
The manse was five levels, stacked back against the bluffside, and Tai was disturbed to see Coldferth men and women at the windows, some trying to climb out. They were supposed to be gone.
Pendra was at the top when Tai arrived, stuffing marks into a chest alongside others there. “It’s started,” Tai said, bends hitting him as he dropped resonance. “How’s the house?”
“Mostly clean, but there are—“
“People, yeah, I saw.”
“Ilrick’s working on them, telling them to get out.”
Tai nodded. “We can’t torch it until they do.” He took a chest under each arm. “This is most of it?” A scream sounded from below, and Tai tensed to see a wafter drifting overhead in Coldferth gray. Reinforcements.
“This and a shitpot of yura,” she grinned. “But that’ll burn.”
“Okay.” No time to lose, Tai shot up and east, chewing a mavenstym blossom. The land was wild not far west of Newgen’s walls, and Tai shoved that way, dropping the chests near an distinctive clump of trees. He shot back to find flames licking the side of the building, and Coldferth employees pouring out. They were filling the courtyard, climbing through windows, others trying to scale the wall rather than get out the front gate, where a battle swirled between green scarves and white coats and floating archers in blue and gray. It was chaos.
Tai slowed, assessing. The archers were shooting unopposed—where was Beal? Tai shoved downward, spine aching, and crossed his arms overhead. One of these days he’d get a shield. He struck one of the floating archers, and drove him forward into the other, a Yati woman with streaming red hair.
They blasted past the manse walls, slowing as the wafters pushed against him. A moment later the woman split off, nudging right, and the man followed suit to the left. Trying to get distance to shoot him.
Tai spun in a tight arc and slammed into the wafting man, wrapping arms around him. The Yati woman fired, and Tai felt the man jerk as the arrow hit him.
It punched through into Tai’s hip. With a cry Tai let go of the wafter, who dropped like a stone. The woman grinned, nocking another arrow. Tai gritted his teeth, staying afloat, and shoved toward her.
An arrow came, and he nudged left, then slammed into her, shoving up and out. The Yati woman shouted, inarticulate, beating at him. Tai pushed even harder, lamplit city streaking away and down, then let go and stopped, momentum launching the woman east over the Bottoms. At the rate she wafted, she wouldn’t return till the battle was won.
Or lost. Bodies lay like butcher’s waste in the courtyard, Karhail and blurs that could only be the timeslips battling men there while others held the gates. Flames shot from the manse, upper windows spewing flame and smoke, illuminating the scene in an ugly orange and red. The waterfalls had stopped, so Lumo’s dam must have worked. A tide of fighters rushed toward the manse from Newgen proper, wafters and brawlers leaping off the walls. Too many.
Tai dropped into the courtyard. “Karhail!” The yard was a mill of panicked Coldferth workers.
The Seinjial stabbed a worker and spun, sword red.
“Kar we gotta go! Fighters coming!”
Karhail slashed at another who came too close, taking off an arm. “Okay! Lift us out!”
“Too slow! I can’t take you all!” He was barely fighting off the bends already.
Karhail growled, an arrow bouncing from his helm. A woman screamed as one found her. Weiland appeared next to them, bleeding from a gash on his neck. “Archers. Forming a ring, Kar. They’ve got us.”
Karhail snarled. “We form a wedge, fight our way out.”
Tai saw the archers now, wafting in a line around the courtyard. “No! We’ll be cut down!”
“It’s our only option!”
There had to be another way. Tai rocked, crowd surging around them. “We blend!”
“We what?”
“Take off your scarves! Drop your swords! We open the gates, run out with the crowd!”
Karhail stared at him, face lit with flames. “That won’t work!”
“It’ll work, and we’ll live! There are too many of us, they won’t be able to tell!” The panicked Coldferth workers pressed against them, away from the building spewing heat. “It’s that or die! The rebellion stops here!”
Karhail stared at him, then swept the scene with his eyes. A roof collapsed two stories up in a roar of smoke and sparks. With a snarl Karhail ripped off his green scarf. “Weiland! Tell them! We strip and run with the crowd! Keep them in till then!”
Weiland zipped away. Tai searched the crowd for familiar faces, but it was chaos, line of wafting archers tighter above. At least they were waiting for a clear shot. He fought his way to the gates, people shouting and elbo
wing, resisting the urge to waft because he’d get shot down.
The gate was a mess. Theron and Tarnst fought back to back inside the thick archwork of stone, one holding the crowd off, the other holding the guards off outside, a thick piles of bodies there. Tai saw why in a moment: the blur of Pendra, catching the leg out from under a fighter, who Theron then cut down. Still the guards outside seemed endless.
“We gotta go!” Tai yelled, pushing against both tides. “We’re surrounded! Drop your weapons and we run with the crowd!”
“The guards!” Theron shouted, meeting swords with another in the tight space. “They’ll cut us down!”
“I—“ Tai glanced around. “I’ll handle them!” Tai pulled a yura ball from his belt and bit down.
“You’ll what?”
“I’ll handle them! Keep fighting!” In the tight space, shouts and swords clanging, Tai summoned his breath. In, out. He felt the wind move with him. The object is an extension of your breath. Tai breathed in, people seeming to draw nearer to him. He had been practicing, but this would need to be more powerful than he'd ever managed. He focused on the exit, the pile of bodies, the guards battling over top—and breathed out.
A few bodies shifted. The crowd shoved in.
Meck. Try again. In, out. Touch, move. An archer dipped, trying to get a shot inside the archway, and Tarnst shouted. Concentrate. No time. In—the bodies seemed to suck in, out—a breeze blew past them—
“Tai! What are we doing?”
In—the air seemed to suck in with him, and Tai turned, resonance shaking, focusing his breath on bodies and guards—
Out.
Bodies exploded away from them in a blast of air, guards flying, a tunnel created through the mass of fighters outside the walls. “GO!”
There was no need to shout. Tarnst dropped his sword and the crowd surged forward. The bends struck, and Tai ran. It was all he could do to stay afoot, world swimming, people surging past him in animal fear. He let them go, moving as much by touch as sight, abruptly losing his stomach on the flagstones.
The bends cleared some, and he merged into the tide of people rolling past the Councilate guards. They streamed up the hill toward Newgen, a herd of wild beasts, smoke billowing around them. Tai kept up, glimpsing Theron for a moment, Weiland, losing them again in the half-lit stampede. His heart thudded with panic and triumph.
The line of wafting archers above the walls broke, trying to follow the crowd, but it was as Tai had hoped, total chaos, fleeing people now mixing with others coming to help, all confusion. Someone took his arm. “What’s happened man? Prophet’s name!”
“Attacked!” Tai shouted. “Rebels!”
He ran on, up the stairs to Newgen, crowd dispersing. Tai slowed his steps, stopping to answer a few more cries. This, at least, he knew from the streets. Act like you belonged, and you did. It helped that many mistook his hair for Seinjial.
“You say there were how many?” a Councilate man was shouting, Achuri woman clutched in his arms.
“Fifty! A hundred! It’s hard to say!” Tai suppressed a grin, beginning to relax. Let the rumors spread.
He moved on, trotting now, stream of people dispersing further, thankful for his Coldferth uniform. He ducked around a gawking pair of young men, and spotted a familiar lighthair down the lane. Ella. She was on the arm of someone of rank, a Councilate officer it looked like. Best not to push it. Tai put his head down.
“Tai?”
Meckwater. “Ella!”
“What are you—“ Ella seemed to catch herself, face composing. “Tai this is Arten Sablo, High Arbiter of Ayugen.”
Tai controlled his shock with some effort. A single attack now—but no. One death would change nothing. “Pleased to meet you, sir. I apologize for my appearance.”
Sablo gave a sharp nod. “What’s going on down there?”
“An attack, sir. Rebels hit the Coldferth manse. They—it’s burning down, sir.”
“Grindstones,” the Arbiter growled, looking toward the bluffs. “How many?”
“Ah, fifty, maybe sixty?” Tai searched for an excuse—he needed to go. A solder ran up first, breaking from the crowd.
“Sir!” The soldier barked.
Sablo’s face was hard. “Tai, if you’d stay with Ella for a moment?” The man was clearly used to command. He moved a few paces away, conferring with the soldier.
“Are you okay?” Ella asked in a whisper. “Did it work?”
Tai grinned. “It worked. Thanks to you.”
She looked conflicted at this. “Let’s hope this really sets Coldferth back. You should go. The Arbiter—”
“Aye.”
She glanced back at him. “There’s something else. The army. The Councilate has sent them south. Two thousand men. Tai you’ve got to move fast.”
“Prophets.” There was no way they could fight the whole army. Sablo had turned back to them. “See you in two days?”
“If I can. I’m in the Tower otherwise, room 336. Find me.” Then in a louder voice, “Prophet’s light that must have been frightening. Are the rebels gone?”
“They’re still here,” Sablo cut in, eyeing Tai again.
“Then we should leave,” Tai said, shoulders tensing.
“You’re bleeding,” the Arbiter pointed out.
Tai looked down, saw the red stain from the arrow wound in his hip. He hadn’t even felt it in the panic. “Prophets.” He looked up. “You’ll have to excuse me, I need a healworker.”
Sablo was still eying him. “I know one. In the barracks.”
Tai smiled, stomach roiling. “I’ll find someone in town. There are soldiers who need it more than I. Ella,” he nodded to her, “Arbiter, it’s been a pleasure.”
“Indeed.” The Arbiter nodded back, eyes cold.
Tai did his best not to run, waiting for a shout, for a hand on his shoulder. It was like the Arbiter knew somehow. Was he a mindseye?
The hand didn’t come. Tai left the city in a stream of people, roadway turned to mud from Lumo’s dam. Suddenly the enormity of what they’d done hit him. They’d struck at the heart of Councilate power—the headquarters of the House that once had him trapped in the mines. And they’d burned it to the ground.
Tai grinned, showing teeth. And this was just the beginning.
27
Aye, I don’t doubt he existed, bless his soul. But the world’s moved on from the Prophet. Who needs a moral code when you can pay off the lawkeeper? Money makes the morals these days.
--Worldsmouth yura merchant
Tai came down the long stairway to roars and screams. They’d agreed to retreat to the caves after, to avoid revealing their hideout in the forest. Karhail, Lumo and some of the new recruits made a tense circle in the middle of the chamber.
“Tai!” Lumo’s face lit up. “You are all right. We worried.”
“I—got waylaid. You escaped the dam safe?”
“It was not easy,” Lumo rumbled, “but yes.” Tai had been worried about him—Marrem had released him a few days ago, but the Minchu hadn’t regained his strength yet, which is why they’d put him on the diversion.
“Good.” Another roar echoed in the chamber. “Gods, what is that?”
“It’s Tarnst,” Karhail said. “It was his turn to load.”
“Right after a battle?”
“He’ll come out of it,” a recent Yersh recruit was saying, sounding near tears. “I know he’ll come out of it. He just needs time.” As Tai recalled, they’d enlisted together, and looked to be street brothers, sharing bed as well as friendship.
“And he’s yelling like Matle did?”
Karhail nodded. “We may have to put him down.”
“Prophetsmeck,” Tai cursed. “Did he choose to do it?”
“It was his time to load,” Karhail answered, stony-faced. The Yershman moaned.
“Is he safe?”
Karhail nodded, and Tai took the passage down, to the chamber where Weiland and Karhail had overcome their demons, n
ow the unofficial yuraloading chamber for recruits in the caves. Tarnst was there, bound to the rock pillar, muscles straining against the ropes, air crackling with brawler buzz. His arms were rubbed raw from struggle against his bonds, blood seeping into the jute fiber. “Prophets,” Tai breathed. He’d been avoiding the yuraload area of the hideout, but heard plenty of cries like these.
Weiland was there with Sigwil and some others. The timeslip nodded. “Don’t know if this one will make it.”
“How long has he been like this?”
“Almost since the start.”
Tarnst roared, air crackling again, shoving against his bonds. The veins were rigid on his neck and head. He let out a string of words, half-intelligible, like the ancient Yersh of Eschatolist priests.
“Did you give him dreamleaf?”
Weiland huffed a laugh. “Tried. Didn’t make much difference.”
Lumo appeared behind them, the giant Minchu pulling on his pipe. “This is not good.” His green eyes looked sad.
Tai nodded. “Have you ever seen anything like this before?”
Lumo paused. “Not in my place. But I have been watching those in the hideout. When they begin to yell like this…” He shook his head.
“What happens? Any idea why it only hits some people?”
“No. It is like his demons are battling each other. Or, his demon’s demons.”
“Demons have demons?”
“We are not sure. Some shamans believe yes.”
Tai nodded, lapsing into the mute worry of the rest of the crowd. Karhail came after a time, sword strapped to his back.
“Did Theron and Ilrick return?” someone called.
“Not yet,” the bulky swordsman said.
The mood darkened further, punctuated with Tarnst’s cries. Lumo pulled at his pipe, Beal cracked his fingers in turn, and Tarnst’s lover wept quietly against one wall.
“The others will be fine,” Lumo said, breaking the silence. “They are probably just being careful.”
“They would have been fine,” Beal said, “if we hadn’t decided to escape by running into armed men.” Tai met his eye, recognizing Beal’s grudge. It seemed petty now.
