Fen strapped the weapons to himself. While he was doing that, Gage produced a bag of charcoal and handed it around. Wordlessly, the squad began blackening each other’s faces.
Fen looked at them and felt a swelling of pride. He’d forgotten how efficient they were, how well they worked together. They were Wolfpack squad. More than that, they were his family. He felt fortunate. Whatever happened, he knew he could count on them. He wasn’t in this fight alone.
Once they were ready, the squad members broke up into pairs and spread out so as not to draw as much attention as they began making their way toward the docks. Cowley walked beside Fen.
“You were kind of quiet back there,” Fen said. “Is something wrong?”
Cowley gave him an incredulous look. “The man returns from the dead, and he wants to know if something is wrong. Unbelievable.”
“What?”
“I was there, Fen. I was there. I saw the axe coming down. If Strout hadn’t held onto me, I’d have charged the stand, even though they’d have killed me. I thought you were dead, and I’d failed to save you.” His voice broke. “You have no idea what that felt like. I hope you never find out either. It’s the worst feeling in the world.”
He gripped Fen by the back of the neck. “And yet here you are. Forgive me, Fen, but words fail me. What am I supposed to say in this situation? Gosh, it’s sure good to see you again, my friend? Am I supposed to act like you’ve simply been away on a trip, instead of locked in a dungeon, waiting to be executed and refusing, refusing, to let your friends save you?” He gave Fen a shake. “I don’t know whether to kiss you or knock you out.”
“I’m not sure I like the sound of either one,” Fen said.
Cowley laughed and ruffled his hair. “Listen to you, making jokes right before we all go off to die. Maybe I’m rubbing off on you after all.”
“No one’s dying tonight.”
“You’re right. This will be easy.”
“I hate when you say that.”
“Say what?”
“‘This will be easy.’ Whenever you say that, it never is.”
“I take it back then. We’re all going to die bloody deaths. Is that better?”
“Not really.”
“There’s no pleasing you, is there?”
Chapter 13
The streets were thick with patrols, trying to keep the city from descending into chaos as it had the two previous nights. But there were almost no citizens out. What they’d seen of their new rulers had frightened them indoors. Wolfpack squad had no difficulty staying unnoticed, since they were familiar with the routes the patrols took. They all turned up at the rendezvous point within a short while of each other.
The street running along the docks was deserted, no lights showing in any of the shops and warehouses lining it. The only light came from the far end of the street, where the new ships were being built. The sounds of hammers and saws drifted to them on the breeze. The squad advanced cautiously, silent shadows in a night filled with them.
The debris from the palisade that Fen had shattered had been cleared away, but there hadn’t been time to erect a new one. Instead, crates had been stacked to form a barricade about as tall as a man. Two wagons served as a gate. Stationed on top of the crates were guards. Fen counted eight total. Behind the barricade looked to be another dozen or so in reserve. All of the guards were Ankharans, wearing knee-length hauberks and helmets with nose- and cheek-guards, carrying single-edged swords with curved blades or crossbows. Fen was glad of that. He’d prefer to avoid fighting Samkarans for as long as possible. It was bound to happen, but if he could avoid it, he would.
When planning the raid, Fen had told them he was going to try not to use his power except as a last resort. He was concerned that doing so would draw the attention of the Ichthalids—if he could sense their power, it was likely they could sense his—and they weren’t ready for that yet.
Fen scanned the other squad members, and when they were all in position, he gave them the hand signal to attack.
As one, the squad burst from cover and charged the barricade. Not wanting to alert the guards, they ran silently, with none of the shouts or howls that soldiers use to pump themselves up for battle. If they managed to get even a few extra steps before being noticed, it could mean the difference between success and failure.
They’d covered about half the distance when one of the guards spotted them and shouted a warning to the others. Blades were drawn, and crossbows hastily raised. Crossbow bolts hissed through the air, but the light was poor, and they fired too quickly. None struck their targets, though Fen heard one whistle by his head.
A moment later the squad hit the barricade. Fen’s foe grunted as he swung a vicious, overhand blow at Fen’s head. Fen deflected it easily. Thrown off balance by his swing, the man staggered slightly. Fen’s sword flicked out and caught the man right above the ankle. The man yelled in pain, swinging his sword around in a backhanded blow that Fen ducked. The attack left the man’s side unprotected. Fen stabbed up, under his ribcage, a quick thrust and withdrawal. The man stumbled forward and fell off the barricade.
Fen grabbed onto the top of the barricade and swung himself up onto it, rolling when he got to the top to avoid the attack from the next guard. The man’s sword struck the wood crate, sending up flying chips, but leaving Fen unharmed.
Fen slashed at the man’s feet, causing him to jump to avoid the blow and giving Fen a chance to stand up. He swung at Fen, but Fen stepped inside the blow, grabbed his wrist with his free hand, wrapped his sword arm around him, and used a hip throw to toss the man off the barricade, right into one of the reserves who was climbing up to join the fight. The guard struck his comrade, knocking him sprawling on the ground.
A quick glance to either side showed Fen that his squad mates had had equal success. Every guard on top of the barricade was down. He saw Strout grab his opponent, lift the struggling man over his head, and throw him down into a knot of reserves clustered behind the barricade.
Noah was the first one off the far side of the barricade, jumping down on top of a guard who was already backing away. Noah struck him in the chest with both feet, knocking him down. The enemy’s helmet came flying off when his head struck the ground, and he lay still.
The rest of the squad followed, swiftly dispatching the remaining reserves, except for one who had the good sense to flee, shouting an alarm as he went. Lukas snatched up one of the dropped crossbows, dropped to one knee to steady his aim, and fired. The bolt struck the man in the back. He staggered on for a few more steps, then fell to his knees.
“Injuries?” Fen called out. A chorus of negatives came back to him. “Let’s go then.”
To get to the ships, the squad had to pass down a narrow lane between two long, low sheds. They were halfway through when the far end was suddenly blocked by a dozen or more men. These were more heavily armored than the barricade guards had been, wearing plate mail and bearing two-handed swords. Even as Fen took this all in, noting their numbers, weapons, armor and placement, he heard the clatter of steel behind him and knew they’d stumbled into a trap. The other end of the lane had been sealed off behind them.
The two forces had Fen and his men pinned between them. Shouts of victory arose from both enemy forces.
At that point most squads would have slowed down, uncertain whether to turn back, keep going, or take up defensive positions. Which would have led to death for most or all of them. It simply wasn’t possible to fight against a foe with superior numbers and armor who was attacking from two directions at once.
But this was Wolfpack squad.
There was no need for Fen to shout orders. They’d faced this scenario and numerous others countless times under Sergeant Flint’s tutelage. They’d been drilled until the right response was second nature, requiring no thought at all.
Instead of slowing or turning back, Wolfpack squad increased their speed. They knew their best chance was to hit the force in front of them fast and hard
. They had to break through their line before the enemies in the rear could close the distance and engage.
The victory cries faded and were replaced by uncertainty as the young men charged silently at the armored Ankharans. They shuffled their feet uneasily, exchanging looks with each other. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. One of the Ankharans actually took a step back.
But their leader, a big man who stood in the middle of the line, his feet spread wide, yelled at them to hold. “Cut them to pieces!” he yelled.
“That one’s mine,” Strout, who was on Fen’s left, grunted.
Fen veered slightly to allow Strout a clear path. As the last few paces between them closed, Fen could almost hear Flint in his ear.
Plate makes a man hard, but it makes him slow. Use speed against him. Go for the soft spots.
The big man stepped forward at the last second and with a bellow swung a vicious blow at Strout. From the edge of his vison Fen saw Strout deflect the blow with his sword, and then there was no time to see anything but the man in front of him.
His foe’s first swing came with all the man’s power and weight behind it. Rather than meet the blow directly, and risk shattering his sword or having it knocked from his grasp, Fen turned it with his blade, directing it down and into the ground. Quick as a flash he stomped down on the tip of the man’s blade, pinning it to the ground. It was only for a heartbeat, and already the man was twisting it free, but that was all Fen needed.
He brought his sword up and stabbed at the man’s hip, aiming for the crease in the armor. The tip of his blade bit into flesh, and the man cursed and leaned away in a futile attempt to protect himself.
But Fen’s blade was still moving. He took advantage of the man’s lean to swing hard at the side of his head. The helmet kept the blade from cutting into flesh, but it didn’t stop the force of the blow. The helmet caved inward from the impact, and the man staggered sideways into Strout’s opponent, disrupting his next swing.
Instantly, Strout pressed his advantage. His blade flashed, its tip finding the soft spot below his chin and driving into his throat. Blood sprayed, and the big man gurgled and clapped both hands to the wound as he fell backwards.
And now Strout was into their line. He spun to his left and attacked the unprotected flank of the man who was fighting Eben. The man turned to fend him off and left himself open. Eben’s blade punched through his cheek. He screamed horribly and pitched onto his back.
Meanwhile, Fen was doing the same in the other direction, attacking the man who was trying to fend off Cowley’s flurry of attacks. Fen stabbed him under the arm, and when he turned, Cowley finished him off.
That quickly the enemy’s line was broken. With Strout rampaging down the line like a mad bull in one direction, and Fen and Cowley rolling it up in the other direction, it was only moments before the enemy was all down or fleeing.
The Ankharans charging from the rear had only made it about halfway to them. Their progress faltered as they absorbed the impact of what had happened to their fellows. Noah raised his bloody sword and took two steps toward them.
“You want some of this?” he yelled. “Come on!”
The Ankharans turned and fled.
“Anyone hurt?” Fen asked.
“A scratch,” Cowley said. “Nothing to worry about.” Eben was wrapping up a shallow wound on Wallice’s arm.
“Let’s go get those ships,” Fen said.
Horns were blowing now, summoning the remaining guards. Fen and the others came around the end of a shed at a trot. There before them, fifty paces away, was the nearest of the new ships. All over the place were poles stuck in the ground, the lanterns hanging from them providing illumination for the work. On the scaffolding surrounding the ship were dozens of Maradi slaves, carrying tools and wood planks, frozen in place as they stared at the scene unfolding below them.
The bloody remnants of the armored force Wolfpack squad had just defeated ran stumbling to the dubious safety of a score or so Ankharans who were drawn up in front of the nearest ship. Though they outnumbered the Samkarans by more than three-to-one, the Ankharans looked nervous as Wolfpack squad bore down on them, more than one darting glances off to the side as if about to flee.
It wasn’t surprising, really. Twice the Ankharans had faced Wolfpack squad, and twice Wolfpack squad had sliced through them like a hot knife through tallow. They didn’t expect to do any better. A couple of the Ankharans tried to raise the spirits of their fellows with war cries, but the cries faded quickly. An officer raised his sword and called out an order to charge. No one moved. They looked at each other uneasily.
“I’m going to kill you all!” Noah yelled, charging forward waving his sword.
“That idiot,” Strout grumbled, running after him.
Fen and the rest of the squad were close behind. With Noah and Strout forming the tip of the wedge, they slammed into the Ankharans, cutting a bloody swath through their loose ranks. Fen parried a clumsy attack and hacked at the side of the man’s neck, dropping him instantly. Beside him the two brothers were like two men possessed of the same brain. They fought in effortless rhythm, each seeming to know what the other was going to do before he did it. Wallice feinted high at an Ankharan wielding a double-bladed axe. As the man raised his weapon to parry, Eben darted in and stabbed him in the groin. Wallice cut halfway through his neck, and then whirled to swing backhanded at another foe, who went down to Eben’s blow without even seeing it coming.
Fen dropped two foes in short order. Seeing that the fight was going their way, he snatched one of the lanterns off its pole and threw it at the side of the ship. Glass shattered, and flaming oil sprayed. Flames licked eagerly at the wood planks. Gage grabbed another lantern and did the same. The slaves threw down their tools and began fleeing.
Fen rejoined the fighting, but there wasn’t much left to do. The Ankharans were already fleeing, leaving half a dozen of their number writhing on the ground. Noah started to chase them.
“Let them go. We’re here to burn ships,” Fen called out to him. “Everybody start grabbing lanterns and tossing them.” The others ran to obey, but he noticed that Strout was just standing there, looking upwards.
“Trouble,” Strout said. The big man was covered in blood, though Fen didn’t think any of it was his.
Fen turned and looked. Standing on the deck of the ship, looking down through the flames and the smoke, seemingly impervious to them, was the one-eyed Ichthalid he’d encountered earlier that day.
“I knew this was too easy,” Strout said.
“Time for you to do your thing, Fen!” Noah cried. His eyes were lit up, there was a spray of blood across his face, and he sounded wild and eager. “Let him have it!”
Before Fen could act, the Ichthalid put his hands out, palms down. Chaos power streamed out of his hands. When it touched the deck, it turned to ice. Frozen fingers of purple ice laced with black spread quickly across the deck and down the side of the ship.
The young men backed away, Fen summoning Stone power to him as he went. Before they’d gone three steps the ice had spread most of the way down the ship’s side. When it touched the flames, they were snuffed out instantly. Even the remaining lanterns seemed affected, their flames flickering and nearly going out. A vicious cold emanated from the ice, noticeable even from a distance.
As the unnatural ice reached the ground, Fen dropped to one knee, put his palm on the ground, and released a wave of power. The ground buckled upwards as the wave of power raced toward the ship. It struck the ice…
And sputtered out.
A moment later it was simply gone.
“What happened?” Cowley yelled.
“I don’t know!” Fen yelled back. “Everybody get back. I can’t stop this.”
The strange ice spread rapidly across the ground. One of the wounded Ankharans was struggling to get to his feet, blood running freely down one leg. A finger of ice reached him. He screamed, his eyes bulging out of his head, as the ice spread up h
is leg. His scream died out moments later as the ice encased him completely.
“Not good!” Lukas was yelling. “Not good!” He was backing away, his sword in his hand.
To Lukas’ right was Gage. Gage was staring in horror at the frozen Ankharan and didn’t see the finger of ice that came out of the darkness on his far side. Fen caught a glimpse of it and yelled a warning, but it was too late.
The ice flowed over his foot and encased his ankle. Gage cried out and tried to jerk away, but the ice held him fast.
Fen reached for Stone power, already knowing he wasn’t going to be fast enough, that there was no way he could do anything in time to save Gage.
But Lukas was closer, and he was already reacting. Even as the ice touched Gage, he was swinging his sword.
The sword struck the ice. The blade shattered with the sound of breaking glass.
But the ice shattered as well. Gage staggered and would have fallen, but Lukas dropped the remains of his sword and grabbed him. Supporting him under one shoulder, he began dragging his friend away.
“Fall back!” Fen yelled.
As Wolfpack squad fled the scene, Fen could hear the Ichthalid laughing behind them.
“Your power is nothing against chaos!” the Ichthalid yelled. “You can’t defeat us!”
Chapter 14
They fled past the docks. Ahead a mass of soldiers, Samkaran soldiers, was approaching, responding to the alarm.
“This way,” Cowley said, and led them into a narrow alley. They ducked behind a pile of broken crates and watched as several squads of soldiers clattered by. None of them looked into the alley. Fen was grateful for that. He wasn’t ready to fight against his own people. Not if he could avoid it.
When they had gone by, Fen turned to Gage. “How’s your foot?”
“Not too bad,” Gage said, but his words came out of clenched teeth, and he looked pale.
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