Great Chief

by Lindsay Buroker

  A barrage of arrows came from a nearby rooftop, all of them angling toward Yanko.

  Dak cursed, grabbing him and yanking him toward a building. Yanko reinforced his barrier, and the arrows bounced off, clattering into the nearest wall.

  Dak grunted and released him. “There’s nothing like walking into a hostile city next to someone who’s shouting his location.”

  “Would silence matter when he’s wearing that robe?” Jhali waved to the crimson garment as she eyed the rooftop of the building, though the archers had disappeared as soon as they fired. “Nobody is going to fail to see him.”

  “True,” Dak said.

  Yanko sensed the archers, six of them. They ran from the rooftop they’d fired from and sprang over a narrow alley toward another building. Yanko channeled a blast of wind into them as they flew through the air.

  It hammered them from the side and knocked them from their trajectory. Flailing and cursing, they sailed into view and landed in the street ahead of Yanko’s group.

  Dak and Jhali surged toward them.

  “Prisoners,” Yanko blurted. “Don’t kill them.”

  His companions seemed just as bloodthirsty as the pirates as they plowed into the Swift Wolves, tearing their bows away and slamming punches into their faces. One whipped out a pistol, one of the promised Turgonian weapons, and Dak’s willingness to take prisoners disappeared. He slammed his elbow into the man’s face with a savage crunch even as he tore the pistol away before his enemy could fire. The man was dead, bone crunched into his brain, before he hit the ground.

  Yanko rushed forward to help, even as he wrapped his barrier around his comrades to ensure that other archers wouldn’t get them, but Dak and Jhali didn’t need his help. They were as effective as a Turgonian infantry platoon, and the skirmish lasted only seconds. Yanko looked away from the battle lust in Dak’s eye as his big friend whirled around, his fist and sword raised, as he searched for more foes.

  Gunshots rang out one street over, and he crouched, as if to spring off.

  “What do we do with these, Yanko?” Jhali nudged one of the men writhing on the ground. Four of the six had survived the fall and the encounter, though they were all injured. Jhali was cooler and more detached than Dak. If battles got her blood surging, she didn’t show it. “You wanted prisoners?”

  “I just don’t want to kill more of our own people than necessary,” Yanko said. “They picked a different side, but they’re still Nurians, and we’ll all have to live with each other again in the end.”

  “Not if they’re dead,” Jhali said darkly.

  “Let’s tie them up and put them in that mercantile. Dak?”

  Dak had been peering around the corner toward the next street over, but he heard and wordlessly came forward, gripping two men by the scruffs of their necks and dragging them toward the indicated building. He kicked the door open with a shattering of boards.

  “Effective,” Jhali said.

  Yanko used his magic to levitate the rest of the injured people inside after Dak.

  A group of pirates raced down the street past them, their faces spattered with blood, their equally bloody weapons held aloft. Yanko’s forces were only five minutes into storming the city, and he already doubted himself and what he had unleashed.

  He found twine and pulled off enough to help his friends tie the men. They returned to the street in time to see a fireball roar over their heads and into a building at the far end. By the badger goddess, had his mother come into the city? And if so, would she kill and maim as gleefully as her people?

  “We should find the faction leaders,” Dak said, practical despite his Turgonian blood lust. “The rest should surrender if we have them.”

  Yanko nodded. “Do you know where to look? You questioned the leaders the first time we were here, didn’t you?”

  “The leaders that were here then, yes. Some of General Tang Chu’s underlings. We can try checking where they were housed before.”

  “Lead the way.”

  More gunshots fired, and shrieks and screams came from the neighboring streets. Yanko wished he’d sneaked in with Dak and Jhali alone and searched for those leaders from the beginning. Could they have re-taken the city without bloodshed then? What would Zirabo think if he returned to find half of Yellow Delta burned to the ground and the other half filled with bodies?

  They had to fight three more groups of Wolves before reaching a bell tower on a hill overlooking much of the city. Dak and Jhali shifted impatiently as Yanko insisted they drag their captured prisoners into buildings and tie them up, but Yanko wouldn’t kill his own countrymen if there was another option. Besides, maybe Zirabo would return with great numbers, and the Wolves would come to believe their faction would lose and could be talked into switching sides.

  Two archers stood guard in a deep alcove at the entrance to the bell tower, a cobblestone square out front leaving a lot of open ground to cover. Yanko swept his senses through the eight-story structure behind them. It was mostly open inside with stairs winding up the walls, the bell chain dangling down in the middle. The massive bronze bell occupied the top level. A group of men and women also occupied that space, watching the harbor and the city from great open windows at the top.

  “We’ll be targets while we run across the square to get to them,” Dak said, nodding toward the alcove, “unless someone magically convinces them to take a nap.”

  “Someone?” Yanko asked. “Not me? A random mage passing through would do?”

  “It would do for me.” Dak squinted at the windows at the top of the tower. “I saw movement up there. That’s where the local leader was camped out the last time I was here.”

  Yanko nodded. “There are people there, and they’ll see us approach.” He pointed at the alcove. “That’s the only door.”

  Yanko didn’t know how to make people take naps but doubted it was possible when they were alert and knew a battle raged around them. Gunshots fired farther down the street, and the archers peered out of their alcove.

  “Now,” Yanko urged his friends as he channeled the air to form hammers, hammers that he brought down on the backs of the archers’ hands.

  They dropped their bows and leaped back into the alcove with startled yelps.

  Dak and Jhali sprinted across the square toward them. Yanko started to form a bubble over their heads, to protect them from possible fire from above, but he spotted an archer leaning out of one of those great windows at the top, and the man targeted him instead of them.

  “That’s what you get for wearing a crimson robe,” Yanko muttered to himself as he compacted a wall of air overhead.

  The archer fired, but his arrow bounced off. Dak and Jhali reached the alcove, and thuds and shouts announced their skirmish engaged.

  As Yanko jogged across the square to join them, a white-robed figure stepped into the window beside the archer. Mind mage.

  Aware of the archer raising his bow to fire again, Yanko knew he had to protect both his mind and his body. He reinforced the barrier above his head, prioritizing that and only putting some concentration toward erecting a mental barrier. Even though he’d had more luck doing two things at once lately, he hadn’t tried to do this particular combination, and he feared he would struggle to do both well.

  He was still ten steps from the alcove when a dagger of sheer pain stabbed into his mind. More than that, it felt like a serrated blade piercing his skull and tearing through brain matter as it sawed back and forth.

  Panting, he tried to block out the pain, but his concentration lapsed, and he lost both barriers. He squinted his eyes shut and kept running—he was vulnerable to the archer out in the open—but he stumbled and went down. As he rolled across the cobblestones, he opened his eyes in time to see the archer leaning out to take a shot.

  A pistol roared nearby, and a bullet slammed into the archer’s chest. The white-robed mage lunged for his ally, trying to catch him in time, but the archer was already leaning too far out. He fell and landed wit
h a sickening thud scant feet from Yanko.

  Dak hoisted Yanko to his feet and leaned him against a wall in the alcove. It was deep enough to protect them from more overhead attacks—physical attacks.

  Yanko gritted his teeth and put all of his energy into defending his mind. The mage’s attack had broken off when he’d been trying to save his comrade, but Yanko expected another attempt any second.

  “They have a mind mage,” Yanko said.

  “Stronger than you?” Dak asked in surprise.

  Both Jhali and Dak faced him, Dak with a hand planted on Yanko’s chest to keep him upright. Yanko patted his arm and nodded to let him know he could stand on his own now.

  “I’m not sure. I was trying to do two things at once. I—”

  Another attack came. This time, Yanko sensed it an instant before the mage attempted to drive another serrated dagger of pain into his skull. He gritted his teeth and walled off his mind, focusing on nothing else and not letting himself rue that he’d not asked Tynlee for more lessons during their travels.

  Jhali and Dak exchanged looks. Worried looks? Yanko couldn’t tell. They both did stony facades well.

  The attack faded, and Yanko exhaled slowly. He’d fought it off.

  “Do you want us to charge up there and kill the mage?” Dak sounded delighted at the prospect, or as close to it as he ever came.

  Yanko gazed upward, seeing with his mind through the levels of stone and stairs to the top floor. The Wolves were staying put. Did they believe having greater numbers and a mind mage would be enough to keep them safe?

  “Let’s go at a slightly more cautious pace than a charge,” Yanko said. “If they’ve been here a while, they may have booby traps. Guard your minds. He may try to get at you two if he realizes he can’t get me.”

  Dak tried the stout teak door and found it locked. He leveraged his Turgonian size and weight as he turned and drove a boot into it. Wood snapped and hinges broke. He casually pushed the door open.

  The interior of the tower was dark, the thick stone walls insulating it from the battle sounds ringing through the streets. Yanko peered up into the shadows. As he’d sensed, wooden stairs headed upward with periodic landings along the way. He didn’t see any rooms, just the large bell and platform at the top.

  Dak led the way up the stairs, but he paused right away, growling and shaking his head.

  “Attack?” Yanko whispered.

  “Attack.” Dak ground his teeth and continued up. Judging by the pained twist to his face, the mage hadn’t stopped yet.

  Yanko paused as Dak and Jhali, who didn’t seem to have been attacked yet, climbed ahead of him. His senses told him that the bell tower platform had windows on all sides, all open to the elements. He stirred up a fierce wind outside, and channeled it toward the bell, hoping to hurl the men and women down the stairs. At the least, he wanted to distract the mage.

  But his wind struck a barrier and was rebuffed. There was either a second mage up there or the mind mage was very good.

  “Thanks,” Dak said, quickening his pace to a jog.

  “I didn’t stop him. Probably just distracted him for a minute.”

  “Good. Keep doing that.”

  Yanko focused above them again, this time thrusting wind against the floorboards and trying to rip them from the support beams. A couple of creaks and snaps drifted down as he loosened nails, but the mage again created a barrier to stop him.

  A clatter came from above as someone dropped hundreds of metal objects through the hole with the bell chain dangling through it. Nails. They fell downward like arrows, and Yanko created a barrier over their heads as Dak and Jhali pressed themselves against the outer wall. An entire bucket of nails landed on his barrier and the steps above. He nudged them aside before letting them fall.

  “Do they have an attack plan?” Jhali whispered as they resumed climbing. “Or are they simply throwing their garbage at us?”

  “Trying to distract me, I’d guess,” Yanko said. “The same as I’m doing to their mage.”

  He threw another attack, his mental blast of imaginary flames, but he sensed that the image didn’t take root in the mage’s mind. He had strong defenses, so it was like trying his tricks on a mage hunter.

  Before attempting something else, Yanko checked the route ahead. They were more than halfway up the stairs. If there was going to be a booby trap of some kind…

  He spotted it. On the last steps before the trapdoor leading into the platform. He wasn’t sure what it was, but he sensed magic embedded in the boards.

  “We’re going to levitate up the last flight of stairs,” Yanko whispered.

  “We?” Dak glanced back.

  “Yes, I understand Turgonians like flying.”

  “That’s a lie.”

  “You have airships.”

  “I’ve never been in one.”

  The trapdoor creaked open, and a shadow stirred above it. The mage? No, someone with a Turgonian rifle.

  Yanko threw a blast of air and knocked the weapon aside. Dak roared and charged as more figures with firearms came into view.

  Yanko manipulated the air again, this time levering a wedge under Dak so that he wouldn’t come down on those stairs. Dak cursed vehemently in Turgonian and fired through the trapdoor opening. Yanko thrust him through it, since he had intended to do the same thing on his own, before shifting his focus to himself and Jhali. As he levitated them after Dak, clangs sounded as swords—or maybe heads—struck the massive bell.

  Thuds followed, boots on the floorboards, then a gunshot, and the smacking of fists against flesh.

  Yanko let himself down just inside the trapdoor, and the white-robed mage loomed right in front of him. While he was still working on getting Jhali over the trap, the mage attacked.

  Once again, daggers slammed into his mind, and Yanko cried out in pain, but he didn’t let himself lose his grip on Jhali. Only when she was safely through did Yanko turn his focus on his mental defenses.

  Jhali sprang past him and toward the mage. The man calmly lifted a hand, and Yanko sensed him launching an attack at her. But it was a mental attack, and she merely growled and kept going. The mage’s eyes bulged as he seemed to take in her telltale mage-hunter wrap for the first time.

  At the last second, he raised a shield around himself. Jhali, dagger in hand, stabbed down a split second too late. Her steel glanced off, and she stumbled back.

  While the mage was focused on defense, Yanko tried to turn his own attack on him. He formed a dagger of air to plunge down into the man’s head. Even as he did it, he realized he was creating a physical attack rather than a mental one. His would do permanent damage if it worked.

  Bone crunched. The mage screamed, jerking his hands to his head and stumbling back. He tripped over the stone sill of the window behind him and fell out.

  Startled, Yanko lunged around Jhali to the window, thinking he could stop the man’s fall. But the mage landed as hard as the archer had, flat on his back, his lifeless eyes staring up from the cobblestones below.

  Yanko stared in horror. He hadn’t meant to kill the man.

  Clangs sounded behind him, reminding Yanko that there were more enemies on the platform. But the others were simple fighters, not mages, and Dak and Jhali had already taken them down. Dak strode around the bell, making sure none of them had any fight left and looking at the faces. He lifted the head of one man who had half-fallen through the trapdoor as he died. There was no life left in his eyes.

  “This was one of their leaders.” Dak lowered the man’s head. “He’s the one I dealt with before.”

  “Was?” Yanko slumped. He feared that few of the Wolves had survived the battle.

  Dak twitched a shoulder. “It’s hard to worry about taking prisoners when you’re surrounded. Sometimes, you just have to take care of the enemy as quickly and efficiently as possible. Also, Turgonians do not like to fly.” Dak glowered at Yanko.

  A battered board creaked and gave way, and the body of the leader s
hifted, gravity taking him through the trapdoor. He rolled down a few steps until an explosion roared, and flames shot in all directions.

  Jhali and Dak leaped back from fire roaring through the open trapdoor as Yanko created a barrier to protect them. He felt the blast of heat just before he erected it. Fortunately, the flames died quickly. They left a gap in the stairs and a charred, ragged edge where the tidy trapdoor opening had been.

  “On second thought,” Dak said, staring at the dwindling flames, “flying isn’t that bad.”

  “You just have to learn to appreciate it,” Jhali said.

  Yanko couldn’t find his humor. He merely lowered his barrier and rubbed the back of his neck. Shouts and gunshots continued to float up from the city.

  “Uh, Yanko?” Jhali leaned out one of the windows. “Some of your pirates are looting.”

  Yanko clenched his fist in frustration. Dak had foreseen that well.

  Yanko stepped into one of the large bell tower windows, and he could see the entire city and the harbor. He had no trouble seeing the fires from the various magical attacks his mother or some other mage had thrown. No, it hadn’t been she, he realized as he scraped his senses over the docked ships. She was still on the deck of hers, her hip against the wheel as she waited for her people to finish up. Her stance and her aura announced that this was their fight—their attempt to gain Yanko’s favor and earn some land—not hers.

  It seemed aloof, but he was pleased she hadn’t joined in. She could have annihilated the entire city with the power of her fireballs. As it was, he needed to do something to stop this before the city turned into the ashy remains of a funeral pyre.

  “My friends and allies!” Yanko yelled, amplifying his voice so everyone in the city would hear him. “We have succeeded. We’ve captured the Swift Wolves’ leaders, and the city is ours. If anyone puts up a fight, bring them to me. Do not loot the city.” He tried not to look at the already broken windows of storefronts in the block below. “As I promised, you will be rewarded for your work today, but not by stealing from others. Soon, there will be plenty, and you will be pardoned for any past crimes that you may have been blamed for.” In addition to amplifying his voice, he did his best to add some mental persuasion to the words. “I will not forget the help you have given me this day. You will be rewarded.”