Shield and Crocus

by Michael R. Underwood

  Aung disappeared down the hole, and Sabreslate waved him over with her good arm. “Get in so I can seal it behind us!”

  “Big boom in five,” Aegis said. He dropped into the sewers, landing into a crouch that covered him in slime to the waist.

  Sabreslate dropped down behind him, hanging onto the edge of the floor with her empathic bond, starting to seal the floor behind her. Qazzi crashed down on her through the small hole, the two of them crashed into the running current of the sewer floor.

  Aegis felt the bass of the detonation and heard the sounds of stone walls crumbling. A fireball passed overhead, only a few licks spilling down into the sewer.

  “Form up!” Aegis dove onto the shifting pile, trying to pull his teammate away from Qazzi. The killer had jettisoned his sabers and was stabbing at Sabreslate with his treasured straight sword.

  Aegis pushed Qazzi back and filled the sewer pathway between him and Sabreslate. “Get back. I’m point, you’re mark.”

  “Got it.” Qazzi regained his feet while Aegis spoke, and charged forward again. His sword searched for a way around Aegis’ shield, but the Shield’s defense held.

  Nore and Aung joined the melee, coming in on Aegis’ left. They should split up and help me flank him, but I can work with this, Aegis thought, as he shifted right to circle around Qazzi.

  “Press!” Aegis said, and the four of them struck in near-unison. The assassin leapt back in the small pocket remaining, dodging out of the way of Aung’s long arms and Aegis’ shield-swipe. He did not, however, dodge the strips of stone Sabreslate had pulled from the ceiling and shaped into swinging tentacles. The stone tentacle knocked him from the air, and the Shields pounced again.

  Qazzi was prepared for them that time, though, blade out like a pike set against a cavalry charge. Aegis slid down the blade using his shield, but the killer twisted the guard, and the tip dug into Nore’s ribcage. The man’s howl filled the whole sewer pathway. Qazzi pushed Nore towards Aung while Aegis jockeyed for position to grapple.

  But Aegis couldn’t get a grip, not while Qazzi sliced and stabbed in the tight quarters, making space where there was none and keeping them at bay. The city’s premier killer slipped out from under the group with strength belying his build. Aegis clambered to his feet and caught a glance at Nore. Nore’s threads disintegrated to nothing as the Freithin’s blood drained down the sewer pathway in the already-cloudy current.

  Now we are three. Qazzi moved like he hadn’t even taken the shot to the heel, so Aegis knew they couldn’t all outrun him. Maybe one of us, even two, but he’d hunt down the last one until they were a stain on his sword to be wiped off on their own clothes.

  Qazzi spun his blade in a defensive pattern and resumed baiting Aegis. “What now, hero? You’ve only got one little lamb left, and then I get to go to work on the two of you. Yema has no doubt dispatched your fool of a leader by now, and I hear that Protean has been dispatched to deal with your team at the mint.” his smile was ugly, the grin of merciless arrogance. “If you surrender, I might even let the others go.”

  Yema is in the tower? Dammit. They were all supposed to be in Heartstown for the summit. If he was telling the truth, there was no way any of them could get to the tower in time to help, not even Ghost Hands by air or Sabreslate by stone.

  Qazzi lunged, catching Aegis in a thought. The young Shield reacted on instinct, sloshing backwards to bring the Aegis onto line to deflect he blow.

  Aung jumped at Qazzi, who produced a dagger from his hip and stabbed through the Freithin’s palm, ripping up and out through the webbing of the man’s fingers. Aung fell as his screams ricochet off the walls.

  Qazzi raised both blades, the bloodied tip pointing at Aegis’ throat. “Ready to give up, hero? Or do I get to make this one sing a symphony of pain? I think I’ll go for the toes next.”

  I can’t beat him, even with Sabreslate and Aung. Someone has to hold him off. Aegis dove forward again, slammed Qazzi against the wall with a satisfying thud … as the sword punched straight through his gut.

  His vision blurred, and he doubled over. Through the pain, Aegis managed to yell, “Run!”

  CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

  First Sentinel

  The hall of the City Mother was large enough to fit a congregation of three hundred, with fifty priests and another hundred acolytes in the rafters.

  When he was a child, he’d come to take part in an homage service. I felt something change there, felt Her presence in my heart. He’d watched the thread of devotion wind up from his heart and towards the giant gem, matched by an emerald thread from the City Mother herself.

  This time, instead of a congregation, priests, and acolytes, First Sentinel was alone with Magister Yema and his warlock Guard. Yema snapped twice, and the warlocks formed into two ranks, between the Magister and the Shield.

  “I didn’t believe the rumors when they said you’d be here, not at first. I just decided to reschedule my monthly visit, on the happy chance that I could rip out your heart. Thank you so much for being obliging.”

  “No, thank you, Yema, for obliging me. This will be infinitely easier with you here.”

  Now it might even work. But I can’t do it with all these guards running around.

  First Sentinel’s mind spun, trying to plan how to fight a hundred guards while being assaulted by the Magister’s sorcery. And with my bag of tricks running on empty.

  Yema gave the order to attack, and the first rank charged while the second rank fired over their backs. Think fast, old man. Or it all comes crashing down. The Shields couldn’t risk climbing the tower just to claim his body for the hall of Broken Shields. Aegis would try, and they’d have to hold him down until he came to his senses.

  First Sentinel’s hand dropped to his belt and drew the grappling gun from its holster. He shuffled back and fired the hook into the rafters. The hook landed on target, and he pushed the button that whipped him up to the side of the tower and into the intricate rafters.

  Yema bellowed at his warlocks as First Sentinel soared out of range. “After him! If you let him escape, I’ll feed your hearts to the sewer rats!” They scrambled for the ladders, and the handful of warlocks already in the rafters started to converge.

  First Sentinel pulled himself up onto the walkway. It was wide enough for two to walk shoulder-to-shoulder, but only just. It would limit their numbers in any one position, giving First Sentinel a chance to deal with them one or two at a time. The old Shield rushed the nearest guard, who couldn’t quite keep his footing on the shaky planks. The warlock attacked with a knife coated by crackling energy. First Sentinel parried the blow with a shock glove, sending the knife spiraling out towards the center of the room. First Sentinel grabbed the warlock’s arm and threw the man off the side. He screamed all the way down as First Sentinel continued on towards the next ladder.

  Five layers above, there was a winch with hundreds of feet of rope, positioned directly above the emerald. If I can get up there, then maybe I can even the odds.

  The air around him was thin, smelling of sawdust and unfinished wood. First Sentinel stepped onto an abutment that jutted out towards the center of the room, forming a quarter-circle with the pathway leading to another set of rafters.

  At the corner was a trio of Yema’s warlock Guard, holding a tight formation. At top, a tall Pronai held a spear at the ready, standing over a waiting Ikanollo woman who held a femur wand and a crouched, Full-blood hedgehogkin Millrej, bristling with blades as well as spines. Behind them were another few guards scattered along the far side of the rafter.

  First Sentinel checked the struts under the far part of the rafter and wondered if it would stay up with the corner blown out, fingering an explosive. First Sentinel decided against it, slipping the small bomb back into its pouch. The warlocks from the ground level were working their way up, cutting off his retreat.

  The corner was his best path up. Unless I want to try the grappling gun again and risk the guards at the far side cutting my lin
e before I can scale up to the platform.

  No, it had to be straight through or not at all. No time to go around. But explosives weren’t his only tool. He drew one of his fighting staves and the last flash stone. First Sentinel palmed the stone as he charged the trio of warlocks, spinning the fighting staff to draw their attention.

  The Ikanollo let loose with her wand, shooting yellow bolts that matched the threads of fear that sprouted from the trio’s chests. Yema’s control kept them loyal, made them stand their ground, but it couldn’t keep them from fearing First Sentinel, the unkillable rebel. Reputation has its rewards.

  First Sentinel ducked and rolled under the blasts, feeling the rafters wobble and creak beneath him as he came back up to his feet and tossed the stone. First Sentinel covered his eyes, waiting for the flash.

  The Pronai called, “Flash!” but the stone went off before First Sentinel could see how the others reacted. First Sentinel removed his hand just after the flash, watching through his shimmercrab goggles. He’d gotten in range of the spear-wielder. The warlock had one hand on the end of the haft, the second a foot up for balance. With his grip back that far, he had little tip control and less leverage. First Sentinel beat the blade aside with his staff and closed. The Pronai had protected his eyes, but the Millrej hedgehog-kin was scratching at his eyes with a moan.

  First Sentinel waved the fighting staff in front of him in a defensive pattern to ward off the spear as he kicked the Millrej in the face. The hedgehog guard fell half-off the platform, his upper body dangling off the side. He flailed, toe-claws digging into the planks for stability.

  The Ikanollo fired another blast from the femur wand, catching First Sentinel in the leg. The magic tore away his leggings and the top of his boots, searing flesh just inches below the still-healing wound from his fall after killing Nevri.

  The pain dropped First Sentinel to a knee, then to his belly as he forced himself down to keep from falling off the platform. He pushed back up and spun on his back, holding on with one hand as he tripped the Ikanollo.

  The Pronai warlock dropped the spear and pulled a knife. The Pronai cut down toward the Shield’s neck, but the distance was long enough that First Sentinel leaned to dodge the strike. He put the Ikanollo warlock between himself and the Pronai. One at a time, thank you.

  She scrambled back to her feet and got in the Ikanollo’s way while First Sentinel found his footing. The platform bobbed up and down as the blows and crashes stressed the rope supports.

  Faster, now, they’re catching up to you. First Sentinel stood as far up as he could without leaning on his wounded leg, whipped the fighting staff into the Ikanollo’s side, then pushed her at the Pronai again.

  There’s no way I can make it the rest of the way crawling. Get up, old man. Keep going.

  First Sentinel pivoted on his good leg, grabbing for the Pronai’s wrist as he caught the first twitch of the blow. The Pronai was fast, and the two fell into a clinch. The Pronai flailed and they both started wobbling.

  First Sentinel wrapped the Pronai in an arm bar, then dropped him to his knees with the pressure from the grapple. First Sentinel pushed and dropped the Pronai off the platform. Two down, keep going. First Sentinel fell on the Ikanollo again with the butt of his fighting staff, cracking her sternum.

  First Sentinel stood with a grimace and moved along the other side of the platform. He clashed with the next handful of guards while the warlocks closed the distance behind him. His left leg was dead weight, so he fought around it.

  What I’d give to have Aegis here, or Sapphire.

  CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

  Sapphire

  At the lip of Ghost Hands’ weakening force field, Protean rolled off from the inside wall of the vault and slammed Weja to the ground. It morphed its fingers into claws and dug them into Duma’s side. Sapphire heard the cracking of bones, and then Duma gasped her last breath as her ribcage cracked open like a book. For a moment, grief overcame Sapphire, her blood-bound sister’s pain and all she could think about was having to explain to Yara that her mother was dead.

  Weja cried out in wordless sorrow, diving on top of Protean and punching with incoherent rage, channeling the anger and pain of loss. Animalistic fury is good against Protean, but when three Freithin can’t hold the shape-shifting beast, how can two? The Freithin tumbled on the floor, trying to get a grip on the ever-shifting Spark-touched.

  If she had the rest of the team, she’d try to bring a building down on Protean, or trick it into becoming small enough to enclose in a magically-reinforced container enchanted by First Sentinel, any of the things they’d done to stop it in the past.

  But she had only Ghost Hands and Weja by her side and no free escape routes. Blunt fingers shifted into claws as Protean pressed Sapphire, cutting a gash through her ear. She kept punching, kicking, trying to bruise Protean’s mass into immobility and fatigue, the only tactic she saw left to her, save for bringing the whole city block down on their heads. Not my idea of a good end to the evening.

  A crossbow bolt clattered off the far wall of the vault, inside Ghost Hands’ field. Then another. One caught Protean in the back, and yet another punched a hole in Ghost Hands’ cloak before the rest of the volley was knocked aside.

  The Qava’s voice rang in her mind, strained and tired. [I can’t hold on much longer. We need to get out.]

  Sapphire landed a punch square between Protean’s two bulbous eyes and the slits left for breathing. [You’re right. I’m going to toss another batch of the explosives onto the guards. We duck behind the vault opening, then make a break—right turn out of the vault. Relay the order to Weja.]

  Ghost Hands responded, [Of course. On your mark.] Sapphire saw Weja narrow her eyes, no doubt listening to the voice in her head. She threw a kick to Protean’s shifting center of mass, and then pushed off. Sapphire reached into the crate and plucked out two mid-sized explosives. She set one timer to two minutes, the other to five seconds.

  [Mark.] Sapphire pulled out the shorter explosive, tapped the silver button, then hauled back and tossed it overhand into the ranks of guards. She dove to the side, watching the explosive bounce. The boom echoed around the corner of the vault wall, and Sapphire was back up, shouting, “Go!” as she tackled Protean off of Weja. Ghost Hands flew above and to her right, and Weja scrambled out of the vault, breath heaving with effort.

  Protean speared a sharpened pseudopod through Sapphire’s gut. Sapphire grit her teeth as she pulled herself off the protrusion to flee with her teammates. The handful of survivors from the guard squadron were scrambling to their feet.

  Ignore the pain. Just run.

  She broke into a full sprint, cracking the tiles with her heavy strides as she raced down the halls to catch up to Weja and the flying Ghost Hands. Rapid padding footfalls followed her, maybe two seconds behind. Sapphire reached into her belt and tossed a flash stone behind her. She saw the light bounce off of the walls, and the rapid footfalls slowed, a pace or two farther back.

  Sapphire shouted in her mind. [Protean’s right on my tail. We’ll need a quick fade once we get free of the building or it’ll tail us all the way back to the safehouse.]

  Ghost Hands’ response was strained, as if out of breath, though Qava didn’t breathe. [I don’t think I have enough in me to do anything drastic.]

  [You’re far too skinny to make a good meal, it’s true.]

  Ghost Hands chuckled. [I bet my brain is juicy.]

  Sapphire caught a claw across the calf, but didn’t break stride. [Can we concentrate on getting out alive?]

  [ Just saying. You’re going to have to catch me, all right?]

  [What?]

  Ghost Hands turned, hovered in the air, and two slabs ripped off from the wall, smashing Protean between them. The mass toppled to the ground and Ghost Hands dropped out of the air like a sack of coffee beans. Sapphire slid to a stop to catch the falling Qava. She was limp as the stuffed doll Sapphire’s brother had made out of scraps back when they were in the pens. />
  Sapphire and Weja ran for the entrance, broke open the door, and ran out into the lamp-lit evening.

  “Safehouse, now,” Sapphire said, and they bolted down the street towards the alley that led to their rendezvous point. She tried to rouse Ghost Hands, but the Qava woman was out cold, her mind silent.

  We made it. Some of us. I wonder if Aegis did. Or First Sentinel. It’s in their hands, now.

  As Sapphire turned the corner towards the alley, the mint went up in a cacophony of explosions, red and yellow plumes blossoming up into the sky. The trio disappeared into the corner and sought refuge from the watchful eyes of the city.

  CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

  First Sentinel

  First Sentinel had scaled three levels of rafters, followed by a long stream of warlocks behind and several groups ahead. The winch was still two stories up. One level up and I can make a jump for the end of the rope and the crane.

  Magister Yema was a bald yellow spot down below, waving his arms, the burgundy strand between him and the emerald contorting and twisting. The threads smothered the City Mother’s brilliant light, but First Sentinel could see cracks through the ribbons. If he could just get an unimpeded shot at the emerald, he might be able to end this whole thing. I bet Yema would bring the rafters down if it wouldn’t mean risking damage to the emerald.

  First Sentinel reached another group. He baited a warlock holding a sickle, stepping into her range just long enough for her to take a swing. First Sentinel dropped back and let the warlock follow-through, sending her off balance. The warlock stumbled forward to regain her balance, and First Sentinel leaned back in and cracked her across the jaw. Warlock and sickle fell from the platform.