Tinker's War (The Tinkerer's Daughter Book 2) (25 page)

“How could we surprise him?” Robie said. “He knows us well enough. He should expect us.”

I patiently explained that Tinker was working as a translator for the Vangars, and he might very well have some of them in his room. Robie’s eyes lit up with understanding. “I didn’t realize,” he murmured. Then, as I pulled my hood over my head and slipped to the front of the alley, he whispered, “Breeze, be careful.”

I nodded quietly and smiled. I melted into traffic on the street. There was a different feeling in the city that night. I noticed right away that there were fewer people out and about. I also got the impression that there were fewer Vangars on patrol, though I couldn’t be sure because I had never bothered to count them. I knew the most likely explanation for this was that most of the Vangar fighters had gone on with their ships and had taken a good portion of the population with them. I felt a moment of panic in my chest as I realized that if so many people were gone, Tinker might be gone also. I hastened my pace as I made my way back towards the square.

I mingled with the crowd there, passing quietly between the empty stalls to stand in the shadows beneath the trees. A few Vangar guards stood scattered around the place, though they were vastly outnumbered by the general populace. It was strange, seeing so many citizens controlled by so few. I suddenly understood how the Vangars had managed to achieve all that they had so quickly. No one here had the courage to fight unless someone else did so first. They were all afraid, and in the face of the Vangars’ overwhelming initial assault, they had accepted fear and submission as the new norm. Like sheep led to the slaughter, no one here would fight until they knew it was safe to do so. That, I thought, would probably never happen.

I stayed there a while, watching traffic move in and out of
The Flying Pig
. I saw the candle light up in Tinker’s window and over the next few minutes, I saw half a dozen familiar faces materialize out of the crowd and enter the inn. When I was satisfied that it was safe, I followed after them.

I crossed the street cautiously, glancing back over my shoulder to make sure none of the Vangar guards had noticed me. I swept across the cobblestones, slipping between the scattered pedestrians and climbed the stairs to the front door. I heard subdued voices inside. Satisfied, I pushed the door open and stepped inside.

As soon as I crossed the threshold, the door slammed shut behind me. I turned, but caught only a glance of leather armor and flashing steel in the darkness. Large hands caught me roughly by the arms and threw me forward, shoving me to the ground. The pommel of a sword struck me across the back of my head, and waves of pain rolled up and down my body.

I tried to fight back but I was outnumbered and my attackers outweighed me by several times. I felt a knee pressing into my back, crushing the breath out of my lungs. Tears stung my eyes and sharp pain radiated out from the bruise on the back of my skull. I heard deep, gravelly voices speaking back and forth in the Vangars’ native tongue.

They pulled my arms painfully behind my back and bound them with thick fibrous rope. At last, the weight lifted from me and I gasped air into my lungs. The Vangars caught me by the shoulders and dragged me to my feet. I felt the cold biting touch of a dagger against my throat. One of the Vangars lifted the shield on a lantern, illuminating the room. The Vangar in front of me smiled wickedly as he reached out to take the revolver from my belt. He tucked it into his own belt and turned away, looking to their leader.

“Vanka knowa?” one of them asked.

“No, I don’t see any more,” said a voice in the corner of the room. I swung my head around to see Mayor Rutherford, the ex-mayor of Riverfork peering out through slits in the shuttered windows. “Shansh vanka, Lord Bruhn. No more.”

The leader of the Vangars smiled. I glanced at him and then at the others, slowly realizing what had happened. I saw Tinker’s friends standing around the room, arms bound behind their backs, their voices silenced by Vangar blades pressed up against their throats. Then I saw the mayor walk over to the leader of the group of Vangars, smiling.

“Goooood,” Lord Bruhn said awkwardly. He reached under his armor and produced a small leather pouch. I heard the unmistakable sound of coins clinking inside as he handed it to the mayor.

“Good, Lord Bruhn,” the mayor said, smiling. “Very good.

Chapter 23

I scanned the room for Tinker’s face and felt equal parts relief and fear as I saw that he was not there. Had he escaped, or had the Vangars already killed him? I couldn’t bring myself to accept the more likely answer.

Lord Bruhn mumbled something in his language and nodded his head, indicating that it was time to go. The guards sheathed their daggers and pushed us out the door. The unsuspecting pedestrians outside gasped and scrambled out of the way as we stumbled out into the street. The guards shoved us back and forth, forming us into an awkward line. They triumphantly paraded us around the square for all to see, and the crowd thickened as they finally drove us north up Main Street, toward the mayor’s mansion.

Mayor Rutherford walked alongside us, his lips pursed, eyes scanning the crowd. I heard voices muttering and whispering; heard the words
traitor
and
fool
hissed out around us, and saw the look on the mayor’s face change. He was now second-guessing his decision to betray us.

“It’s too late now,” I said quietly. “You’re going to pay for this, mayor.”

One of the Vangars shoved me from behind, almost knocking me to the ground. They all broke out in laughter. I got back into line with my fists clenched behind my back. We marched on in silence, ignoring the downcast looks of the broken-spirited cowards in the crowd. I wanted to scream out to them that they could fight, that they outnumbered their captors ten to one, but I knew it would be wasted breath. In the end, my actions would simply earn me greater punishment.

I had learned that the fools around us wouldn’t fight until they thought it was safe. The only problem is that it’s never safe. If it were, there wouldn’t be a reason to fight. 

I edged closer to the sheriff and whispered, “Where are they taking us?”

He glanced at the guards to make sure they weren’t listening before he spoke. Very quietly, he said, “The Vangars’ leader has moved into the mayor’s mansion on the hill. They’re probably taking us there to be executed.”

I grimaced, glancing at the others around me, wondering if they knew. It made sense of course, I just hadn’t realized it until that moment. The Vangars were making an example out of us. They had found out about our plan and now they were killing us to make sure nobody else would conspire against them. I thought of Tinker again, and felt nausea tugging at my solar plexus. They must have found him out first. They must have killed him, maybe even tortured him… I shook my head, trying to drive the horrific images from my mind.

I twisted my wrists, struggling against the bonds. The Vangars had me securely tied, but I thought I might be able to wriggle loose if I had enough time. The trick was in doing it without attracting the guards’ attention. And then what? If I did manage to loosen my bonds, would I simply leave my companions behind to be executed? That was not an acceptable answer. I needed a plan. But what? We had no weapons, no backup… I thought about my team waiting for me back in the alley. They wouldn’t have a clue about what was going on. How long would they wait before they became restless enough to go looking for me? An hour, maybe two? By then it would be too late.

I swung my head left and right, staring into the faces of the onlookers. When I looked them in the eyes, most of them turned away. They didn’t have the stomach to watch us led to our deaths, and they didn’t have the courage to save us. Instead, they would choose to live with their shame and allow us to die. I pitied them and hated them all at once.

Then, as we rounded the corner and turned onto the long sloping street that led up the hill to the mayor’s mansion, I saw a familiar face. It was Robie. He stood away from the lights, his back pressed up to an alley next to a tavern. He had his cloak drawn close and a hood pulled over his face, but there was no mistaking the features that peered out at me from the shadows. He silently put a finger to his lips and then turned away. He began strolling up the boardwalk along the street, flitting in and out of the crowd, perfectly matching our pace.

I drew my eyes away, lest I attract the guards’ attention. I saw movement to my right and recognized Jenna’s figure moving up the adjacent boardwalk. That was when I knew that they were all there, and they were about to do something very foolish. And there was nothing I could do to stop them.

I focused all my attention on loosening the bonds on my wrists. I turned my gaze inward and focused on the heavy rope, sensing the thick organic fibers from which it had been woven. There were hundreds of them, and they were thick and strong, but I immediately sensed that I could work with them. I focused on the strands one at a time, pulling at the molecules, separating them, weakening the bonds that held the very matter together.

I stared at the road in front of me through half-lidded eyes, stumbling occasionally like a drunk staggering down the street. With each passing moment, I felt the fibers loosening, succumbing to my will, but I also knew that each successive step brought me closer to my doom. Then the road ended and we passed through the tall gates at the bottom of the drive. The mansion loomed up in front of us.

“Now!” Robbie’s voice shouted off to the right.

I heard the twang of a bowstring and the immediate thwack of an arrow impaling flesh. I spun around to see the guard behind me fall to the ground, hands clutching at his throat. Blood spewed out between his fingers like steam from a boiler with a blown gasket. The others backed away, drawing their weapons.

The guards cried out as they encircled us. Another one took an arrow to the thigh, but he didn’t go down. Instead, he let out a wild roar and snapped it off. He held up the broken, bloody arrow shaft and displayed it to the crowd. He licked the blood from the shaft and let out a maddened war cry, like a rabid wolf.   

I heard a shout and turned to see Robie draw his sword and charge the guards. Two of them leapt forward to meet his challenge and I forced my gaze away, unable to watch. I grunted, pressing my weight against my bonds, willing them to snap with everything I had. The rope wasn’t ready to break yet. Desperately, I knelt on the ground, closing my eyes, and tried to focus on the task. The sounds of battle raged around me. I heard shouting and the clash of steel against steel. I heard another body hit the ground and sound of a woman screaming off to my right.

Focus,
I told myself.
Just the rope… just the rope…

Another strand of fiber broke loose and I twisted, putting as much pressure on it as I could manage. A moan escaped my lips as the bonds chaffed against my wrists, cutting through the skin. Warm blood trickled down my palms. I heard a shout and glanced to my right. I saw a guard bearing down on Wil, who had a sword drawn and a long dagger in his off hand.

Wil twisted, his cape flowing out around him. His hands moved like a blur. Their weapons met in a wild crash and Wil twisted sideways, sliding into the Vangar’s attack. The massive warrior didn’t make a sound as Wil’s dagger plunged into his chest. He quickly withdrew the weapon and then brought up his sword to finish the job. The Vangar dropped face-first in the street, flowery spurts of blood painting the front of his tunic as he fell. He was dead before he hit the ground. Wil was on to the next one.

A cry had gone up around the palace and now I heard shouts and the clash of steel coming from above. I glanced up the drive and saw a dozen guards bearing down on us. They were wearing chainmail and leather armor, carrying spears and shields and axes. I cried out, struggling against my bonds. At last, the rope snapped. My bonds fell away and I pulled my aching arms forward to examine my wounds. The cuts were flesh-deep and bleeding, but not enough to stop me.

I twisted around and saw the guard who had fallen behind me. I recognized him. I knelt down next to him, reaching under his body to feel the blood-soaked stones under his belly. I struggled for a moment and then my hands closed around the familiar grip of my revolver. I yanked it free and spun around to face the onslaught of attackers. I clenched my teeth, lined up the sights, and started firing.

I had never considered myself an expert marksman but that revolver was like a weapon designed just for me. I pulled the trigger and instantly one of the guards went down. I quickly took another shot. This time, I missed my mark and instead of hitting the Vangar in the chest, the lead ball tore through his chainmail armor and hammered into his shoulder. He still went down, screaming as he fell and clutching at the wound, all else forgotten.

They slowed a little then, raising their shields and locking them together in a wall. In unison, they started marching towards us. I glanced around looking for an escape, and noted that all of the original guards were on the ground save for Lord Bruhn. He was nowhere to be seen.

I noticed the rest of my group pushing forward through the gates, onto the mansion grounds. I immediately recognized the danger of getting caught inside the gates with only one escape route. Another patrol might come along at any second and block our retreat.

“Pull back!” I shouted. “Back to the street!”

Robie heard my command and started shouting it out at the top of his lungs. Between the two of us, we managed to get everyone’s attention. As a group, we fell back, forcing the guards to leave the safety of the mansion grounds in pursuit. They advanced forward, bearing down on us as they passed through the gates and out onto the street. Then something happened that I couldn’t possibly have dared hope for:

“Kill them!” someone shouted. “Kill the Vangars!”

I spun around to see a middle-aged man advancing toward us brandishing a rake. Others followed him, stepping onto the street, snatching up anything they could find that might be used as a weapon. Sticks, canes, and shovels appeared, and the crowed surged forward to meet the Vangars with fury in their eyes.