B0161NEC9Y (F) (26 page)

“But…who used it here?” Leilius asked.

“One of the women, I imagine. We distributed it to everyone we could for just such a situation.” She took a few more steps and then crouched down, putting her finger to her lips to signal silence.

Leilius held up his knife and crouched beside her, watching as she mixed some powered substance with another in a clear container. She shook it, and then paused. Her forehead beaded with sweat.

Leilius’ stomach clenched, a sign danger was near. What she was about to do made her nervous, and a woman who looked like she did, with scars all over her face, knew when something could work out badly.

“Which one of you can throw the farthest
with the most accuracy
?”
Maggie asked, very clear about that last part. Her eyes had the sort of intensity Sanders might, and while she might not be able to fight really well, she seemed to be able to kill just fine. Leilius was not very comfortable in her proximity.

He pointed at Gracas. Gracas’ finger was aimed at Leilius.

Maggie rolled her eyes. “Is there a purpose in your existence?” She took a deep breath and held the liquid over the powdered mixture with a steady hand. “If I say run, go to your left, is that clear?”

“Yes, ma’am,” they chorused.

She poured the liquid slowly, the slightly yellowed mixture running down the small powder hill in rivulets. When done, she put a lid on the container and twisted. Rising, she cocked her hand, sighted with bent knees, and then threw.

Leilius watched the flimsy material turn end over end. It barely cleared the top of the last tent. Maggie exhaled. “Okay. Get ready to—”

The explosion drowned her out. The tents in the front line flapped violently. The air compressed around them, knocking them to their butts.

Maggie was up first, a large knife in hand. “Hurry!”

Leilius scrambled to his feet, scooping his own knife up amid a handful of dirt. He jumped over an upturned bench and burst through the tents into the open space crowded with bodies. Three Graygual were among the prisoners, fighting for their lives as the prisoners, army men all, did exactly what Maggie had said they’d do. The other Graygual didn’t bother wading in after them. They stood their ground around the outside, most facing the explosion, some still looking away, expecting an attack.

Leilius dodged the divot in the ground from the blast and made it to the first few prisoners as the nearest Graygual ran at him. Wasting no time, he slit the ropes of three pairs of wrists and two pairs of legs. As he was reaching for the third, one of the newly freed men jumped over him, tackling the Graygual aiming a sword at Leilius’ back.

“Do you have weapons?” one of the army men asked. He looked vaguely familiar but his name wasn’t coming to mind.

“No. Take them off the dead men.” Leilius kept cutting, freeing as many and as fast as he could.

The men waiting did so without moving, holding out legs or twisting around to make it more efficient for Leilius. His arms started to grow tight, and then started to burn, as he repeated the same action over and over without rest. He kept on, though—these men were vital to S’am’s survival. To
all
of their survival.

“Staff Sergeant Jenkins, take a few men and go get weapons,” someone shouted.

“Yes, sir,” Jenkins called.

Leilius glanced up at the men they still had to free. Maggie and Gracas were both working their way through the crowd, over a hundred strong. It would take them forever to get through everyone, especially as the bodies became more condensed.

A blast sounded in the distance.

“Hurry!” Maggie shouted.

“Where is the fighting?” one of the freed men asked. It was the same one who had ordered Jenkins around.

“In Green Fields Square. Shanti is going to try and get through there,” Maggie said, out of breath.

“Alous, get some knives and start cutting people free,” the man ordered.

Out of the corner of Leilius’ eye, he saw a little body dart between the tents. He glanced up, about to sound the alarm, when a kid ran toward the crowd. He had a bunch of knives and dirt all over his face. Another orphan ran out between the tents, three knives held at the ready.

“She got
kids
to help out?” someone asked incredulously.

That little kid, Arsen, ran out next, holding two more knives. He passed them to the officer.

“Where did you get these, son?” the officer asked, passing the knives to one of the other men.

“From the bad men. Sir.” Arsen pointed out through the tents.

More kids came out from the sea of canvas, these the larger of the orphans, holding swords and other weapons. All recovered from the Graygual dead.

They hadn’t stayed put like Shanti had told them. And they were probably the only kids in the whole city who would rush into danger like this. It was madness.

“Hurry up!” Maggie yelled as another explosion went off. “Shanti needs our help!”

Chapter Twenty-Five

Shanti braced herself against the fire scouring her body, grimacing. She had her shields up, figuring out how to get around this pounding so she could mentally fight back.

A mass of Graygual waited in front of her, weapons out, looking supremely confident. She was still half the city away from Cayan’s house. The Hunter had given himself plenty of space to work in, and he’d crowded all of his men into this city. He had planned for the worst, a scenario she wasn’t even close to delivering.

A sword came at her, clumsy but fast. She batted it away with her own sword, stepped in, and stabbed her attacker in the throat. She kicked out, crushing a nose with the sole of her boot before swinging her hips, kicking forward to break a jaw. One tendril of fire stabbed through her body, sending her stumbling into a Graygual. His knife came down, aiming for her shoulder. She stabbed him through the gut and then head-butted him, cracking his nose. She danced away from the knife strike in time to slice a chest with her sword.

“There…are…so…many!” she yelled at Rohnan as she cut through a cheek, slashed down a stomach, and came back to pierce the first man. He fell backward, into the men behind him, giving Shanti a little room.

She twirled and kicked. Her foot hit someone in the solar plexus. Rohnan stabbed him through, yanking his sword free a moment later and sending him to the ground.

“I wish I had my staff,” he said, taking on two others.

“I wish…you did…too.” Shanti ripped her shields off and sent a wave of power at the Inkna cowering in the back. Her mind
raked
the minds of the Graygual in front of her, slowing them down, before reaching the Inkna. Their attack stopped for a moment, as they shielded themselves as a unit from her huge rush of power.

Unfortunately, when they worked together, they were superior, and they had much more energy between them.

A blast came back, punching her mind so hard she staggered back. A Graygual batted her sword away as though she were a child. His face a twisted mask of hate and rage, he lunged in for the kill shot.

An arrow parted the air, landing in his chest.

Shock smacked into his expression. His attack lost strength, giving her enough time to slam up her shields, to ignore the pain, and fall on her ass. His blade ruffled her hair as she fell.

Bows sang. Arrows rained down, coming from the sides. Alena clearly wasn’t the only one that kept up target practice! Many in the Graygual crowd staggered, the fletchings of arrows sticking from their bodies.

“Stop sleeping through the battle!” Rohnan yelled, working through the Graygual with speed and precision, his movements graceful. Almost delicate. The result brutal.

“My head hurts.” She gritted her teeth against the constant drum of pain working through her shield.

Three men ran up, a net held between them.

“Oh for fuck’s sakes!” she groaned.

“They think you are a fish,” Rohnan called.

She jumped up, trying to think around that thump of agony. She ran toward Rohnan, leading the Graygual in a chase. They had no stripes on their breasts, which made them probably stupid or naive. Either could be true.

They stepped forward and then to the side, ready to throw their net. Rohnan moved forward too, until he was right at their sides. He stabbed the first, stepping in to grab the man’s collar and pulling him onto his blade. Letting go, and stepping to the side as the man painfully stumbled out of the way, Rohnan pierced the back of the next.

Shanti covered him from two Graygual. She swept the ground with her foot, knocking the first to the ground. She jumped over him, her sword coming down on the other. She threw her knife, hitting someone on the far side of Rohnan as he finished dealing with the net holders, and then stabbed down, taking out the one on the ground.

“There are still too damn many!” She huffed, growing tired. The pain grew more intense, starting to saturate her mind.

A roar of men’s voices echoed up the street behind her, bouncing off the buildings and working a shiver up her spine.

“I wondered if the Hunter would send people to box us in. Clever.” Shanti looked off to the sides, wondering which way she should run.

S
anders growled, stabbing through a Graygual and then stepping in to punch another. He backtracked before taking two quick steps and barreling into two more. He ripped a knife from its holster and brought it down on one of their faces before jumping up and stabbing the other with his sword.

Tomous careened backward, barely missed by an enemy sword. Sanders bent for his knife, straightened and threw it, its blade sticking in the side of the Graygual neck. Not exactly on target, but it would do. Tomous finished the job.

Sanders glanced back. The Captain had fallen from his horse, and lay on the ground in a ball. Whatever was attacking him was not visible, and it was a hell of a lot more painful than the slash on Sanders’ side. From the look of it, the Captain would not be able to hold on for much longer.

“What is taking those boys so long?” Sanders yelled, more out of frustration than anything else. He hacked into a Graygual, no style in the effort, just pure rage. He then ran forward, attacking with everything he had.

“One was too much for us, sir,” Tobias yelled. Blood coated the side of his face and a cut marred his forearm. “He’s probably got a few or more. It’s a wonder the Inkna aren’t killing him.”

“Which is what the boys were for.”

“Those Inkna probably know we only have one mental fighter, apart from Shanti, who is tied up in the city.” Tobias’ words dried up as two more Graygual came at him at once.

That was the thing. They could’ve cut through the first bunch of Graygual, but more kept coming. Some of them were poor swordsmen, too, but there were just too many of them.

Sanders growled, hacking into someone else. He stepped back and turned. A sword tip swiped past him, tugging at his shirt. The fabric parted. Thankfully his flesh didn’t.

“Fall back! Regroup!” Sanders called desperately, cut off from Tomous by black shirts.

Tobias jogged closer, but someone stepped in the way, the sword work fast and perfect. An officer.

The tide was turning. Sanders couldn’t keep up. Hopefully Shanti would save the day, because he was all out of miracles.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Excruciating pain vibrated through Cayan’s body, searing his skin and scraping his bones. It felt like needles stabbed his eyes and sharpened sticks jabbed his inner ears. Everything in him wanted to let go. To let them beat him into unconsciousness so the unyielding pain would end.

Breathing as deeply as possible, not letting the pain turn his breath shallow and have him blacking out, he held on to the thread of consciousness. If he gave in, the Inkna would turn their efforts onto Sanders and the others. The battle would be over nearly as fast as it had begun.

One stream of agony winked out, relieving the pressure on the back of his head. One of the boys must’ve killed an Inkna attacker.

Cayan sucked in air as the throb of the other attacks continued. Constant.

Without warning, fire burnt down his throat and blistered the roof of his mouth.

His eyes snapped open. He thought that someone had lit a flame. Through his watering eyes, he saw Sanders hacking at someone, brutal but slower than usual. He was tiring. Next to him fought Tobias, his feet dragging with fatigue. They were closer than they should’ve been, pushed back by a crowd of Graygual.

No fire licked at their toes. Or his face.

Another Inkna must’ve joined the fray. The boys were few and the Inkna many. The Hunter was obviously waiting for this attack, and he had planned well. The other side of the city was probably vulnerable. It was too bad Cayan didn’t have enough people to take advantage of that.

The fire dumped into his stomach, churning. He curled into a tighter ball, trying to block out the soul-crushing pain. Trying to think of anything else.

Shanti’s face swam into view. He couldn’t feel her through the
Joining—
he couldn’t feel anything but the attack—so he focused on his memory of her. He pictured her shining violet eyes, so expressive, as she assured him they’d make it through this. An image of her body swam into view as it lay before him, nude and glistening in the morning sun as they lay among the flowers in the Shadow Lands. Her thighs parted for him as a slow smile curled her lips. He could almost feel her soft thighs rubbing up his sides, and smell her scent, lilac and mysterious femininity. He wanted nothing more than to see her in that moment. To fight this battle with her, side by side. It was how it was meant to be. Them together, battling, felt as natural as breathing.

A body-consuming throb added to the stew of pain right before a generalized sort of agony blinked off. The boys must’ve taken another one out of the conflict, which meant at least one of the Honor Guard was still alive. That was something.

He noticed bodies drifting out of the trees like phantoms. In unison, their movements perfect and in sync, the men and women stepped forward without a sound. Swords held up in stances relaxed and graceful, their eyes swept the battle in front of them.