by C. J. Archer
I gathered up the skirt and jerked hard, tearing the fabric. I was free and up ahead was a way out. The village green. Instead of trying to avoid the mob, I ran to it.
Their voices rose as one, baying for the governor's blood. Their numbers had swollen so much that the green couldn't contain them all. They filled the nearby streets, swarmed the council building, and sat in tree tops and on walls. The low brick wall enclosing one side of the blacksmith's yard had fallen. That must have been what caused the crash that frightened the horses.
I felt my skirt tug again, just as I reached the edge of the mob. Without pause, I plunged through, squeezing between sweating bodies. I didn't stop moving forward and did not look behind me as I ducked and wove through the throng, never following a straight line.
When I thought myself somewhere near the middle of the crowd, I took stock. No one followed me. I couldn't see the horses above the heads of the villagers nor the Deerhorn lackey who'd chased me. Either I'd lost them or they had simply not followed me, knowing they couldn't attack me here.
The mob had swallowed me, enclosing me in its seething, tempestuous mass, and kept me safe.
I clutched my pack to my chest and concentrated on catching my breath. As my blood calmed, I felt the rise of the tempers around me. The mob was angry. They'd been here all day, calling for the governor to answer for his crimes, and they'd been left unsatisfied.
From my vantage point, I couldn't see any of the palace guards or constables. They would be near the council building, protecting the occupants. Not that the governor deserved protecting.
I prayed to Hailia that no one would get hurt trying to keep the governor safe. Then I prayed to the goddess that my patient and her unborn baby were all right. I couldn't risk leaving the village green while the Deerhorns might still be out there, waiting.
Suddenly the shouted chants of the mob changed from calling for the governor to come out to a cry of, "Storm the building!"
The crowd surged, taking me with it. I was forced forward, towards the council building. I tried to move against the tide, but it was pointless. We moved as a single entity, a hotbed of anger and vengeance, all directed at one man.
I was jostled, my feet trod on, my chest elbowed as I was hustled forward. My arm hurt and my palm stung. I could see nothing around me anymore. The bodies were too close, many of them taller than me. I could only look straight up at the sky, darkening with a brooding dusk.
"Storm the building!" the crowd roared as one.
Between the chants, I heard voices calling for calm. They sounded distant, small. Much too small to have any effect. A horse whinnied. Dane was an able horseman, but Quentin wasn't. If his horse reared in fright, he would fall.
"Please, stop this." My voice was lost amid the cries of the people. I was ignored, even by those closest to me.
Then someone near the front of the crowd screamed. Shouts erupted. Not the organized calls for justice, but the chaotic, indistinguishable bellows of fighters. The crowd around me no longer moved forward as one, but became individuals, trying to scatter in all directions.
"What is it?" I asked the tall man next to me. "What's happened?"
"They're trying to storm the council building. Guards won't let 'em pass." He roared in protest and used brute force to push through the crowd ahead to get to the front.
Others followed in his wake, but many tried to flee. They could not. Like me, they were trapped in a human prison that was slowly but surely inching forward. Advancing towards Dane and his men. The guards and constables couldn't hold them off for long. They were vastly outnumbered. The mob had no issue with them except that they stood in the way of their prize.
The more we moved forward, the more panic settled into my bones. Dane should call his men back. He should retreat. I hoped he would, that he didn't foolishly try to protect the governor.
But Dane was stubborn and put honor above all else. If he saw it as his duty to hold the mob back, he would do it.
Somehow I managed to move to the side through the crowd, while still being forced forward. I must have been close to the edge because I caught glimpses of the guards, mounted on their horses, pushing people back from the steps. They hadn't drawn their swords.
I searched for Dane and found him standing on one of the lower steps of the council building. He put up a hand to signal the crowd to stay back.
They did not. They surged forward.
He fell.
Just like that, he disappeared from view.
"No!" My scream was swallowed by shouts.
Seeing their captain go down, the guards drew their swords and began slashing at the mob trying to pass. It was like swatting a swarm of flies. For every one they felled, another ten replaced him.
The steps of the building were completely invisible now. The crowd had surged up it, brandishing axes, bricks and bats. The constables guarding the door dove over the sides of the steps to get away, and the mob slammed into the thick wooden door. Finding it locked, they pushed.
I no longer cared if they broke it down. If the governor's head on a spike could stop this madness, then I would happily present it to them. All I cared about was getting to Dane.
He was somewhere beneath the feet of the mob.
Miraculously, the door held, but it wouldn't for long. The crush of bodies was denser near the council building. I elbowed my way through and earned bruises for my efforts. I ignored the pain in my grazed arm and hand and used every last piece of strength I had left to forge a path for myself.
But the closer I got, the more difficult it became. The crowd had stopped edging forward, the way blocked by the bolted door.
"Captain!" I couldn't even hear my own voice over the angry shouts.
I managed to force my way to the base of the steps, almost tripping over the lowest one. I searched through the legs, kicking when I had to. He must be here somewhere, but it was dark and there were so many people.
Then I spotted something near the side of the stairs. I inched forward, my gaze focused on it, trying to see what it was, if it moved.
Then the crowd roared again, growing impatient with the door that continued to withstand the efforts of the men pushing against it. It must be barred from the inside, and without a battering ram, they didn't have enough strength to force it open.
These thoughts flittered through my head, but meant nothing to me. Only Dane mattered.
"Josie!" came a shout.
"Max?" I shrieked, standing on my toes. I could just see him through the crowd, standing at the edge of the stairs. Blood poured from a gash on his forehead but he was otherwise unharmed.
"He's with me!" he shouted back. "He's fine, just dazed. Get out of there. Go home!"
I wished it were that easy. The bodies pressed in on me, sucking up all the air. I tried to steady my breathing as I pushed through, not back the way I'd come but to the side, to where Max stood.
But it was useless. I hardly advanced, and breathing became more and more difficult as my energy was sapped. Running from the Deerhorns had been exertion enough, but pushing my way through this dense forest of sweating flesh was too much. My chest ached and my head felt light.
I grasped around, searching for something to hold on to, to keep myself upright. If I fell unconscious here, I would be crushed.
I caught a glimpse of Dane's ashen face, looking back at me. Blood streamed from a cut on his cheek. He said something to Max and he plunged into the crowd toward me.
He beat back those trying to stop him, using fists, elbows and the hilt of his sword.
I slumped against someone's back, battling to keep my eyes open, and focused on Dane moving relentlessly towards me.
He reached out and I slipped gratefully into his arms.
"Stay awake," he ordered. "You're not a fainter."
Not a fainter. It was almost amusing.
I tried to walk, to make it as easy as possible for him to get me to safety. He used his sword arm to push through the crowd. But for
every step forward, he was shuffled back further and further. We would not make progress like this.
Dane grunted as someone's elbow hit his cut cheek. My grip tightened around his waist as I searched for the best way out. But there was none. We were trapped.
Shouts burst out from the edges of the mob. Women screamed. Then the crowd pulsed, surging and receding in all directions.
"Who are they?" I heard a man near me say. He stood on his toes, neck craned.
The pause in the surge from those on the steps allowed Dane to forge a path to Max. He wasn't looking at us, however, but over the crowd below, and the newcomers on horseback.
Dozens of armed soldiers wearing helmets and armor over brown tunics beat back the crowd. As with the palace guards, they did not use their swords except to brandish them in a show of might.
The mob stopped as the soldiers kept coming, pouring in from the west in two orderly columns. They spread out, one column going left, the other right. No one had given the order. They'd simply done it calmly and efficiently until they completely circled the quieting crowd.
"It's about time," Max grunted.
"Who are they?" I asked.
"Warrior priests from Tilting," Dane said. "I sent for them thinking there might be unrest after the king's death."
With the crowd calm, Dane and Max were able to make their way through. I followed, wanting to get out of the horde as quickly as possible in case this calmness didn't last.
"Go home!" the sheriff shouted from where he stood on a low brick wall. "It's over for today. Let justice take its course." At the crowd's rumblings, he added, "These are Merdu's Guards! If you disobey them, they will retaliate in the god's name!"
Bringing Merdu into it was enough to quieten the crowd but not disperse them. Some of the women left, but the men stayed. They eyed the warriors with a mixture of awe and caution. Some tried to restart the chants, calling for the governor to come out, but their voices dwindled when few joined in.
As Dane made his way towards the sheriff, one of the warriors rode up. "Sheriff? Are you in charge here?"
Sheriff Neerim nodded at Dane. "Aye, along with Captain Hammer of the palace guards."
The warrior removed his helmet. He was a young man with short brown hair, damp with sweat, and a clean shaved jaw. Strong features made him handsome but would have looked out of place on a man with a smaller build. He sat tall on the horse, his broad shoulders made wider by the armor. His gaze quickly took in the sheriff, Dane, Max and then me, trailing behind. I felt as though I ought to bow beneath the imperial appraisal.
"And you are?" Dane asked.
"Brother Rhys Mayhew, at your service." He gave a half-hearted bow.
"Master Rhys Mayhew," corrected one of the warriors with a smirk.
The leader pressed his lips together. I wasn't sure if he was trying not to smile or trying not to admonish his man.
"You're young to be master of the warrior priests," said the sheriff.
The four nearest priests gave him arched looks. I suspected this was a contentious issue among them.
"Nobody else wanted the job," was all the master said.
"Thank you for your assistance," Dane said.
The master dismounted and extended his hand. "It's good to meet you, Captain."
Dane shook it and introduced Max.
I left them and headed off through the crowd. My patient still needed attention, perhaps urgently. I didn't have to push and force my way through this time, but it was still slow going. At least the people weren't surging toward the council building anymore. They still grumbled, however, and I doubted it would be long before they took up their cause again.
Those priests had better be as good as their reputation claimed. The numbers were still greatly in the mob's favor.
I scanned the faces but saw no sign of the Deerhorns. Even so, I didn't want to venture into the streets alone. To my relief, I spotted my patient's husband, also making his way through the crowd. Together, we headed to his cottage.
Thankfully, the expectant mother, Posey, was all right. She breathed normally and she no longer felt any contractions.
"They were false ones," I said after checking her. "Sometimes they happen."
"And the breathing problems?" she asked.
"Brought on by panic. When you felt the contractions and your husband wasn't here and you could hear the mob, you grew worried."
"I'm sorry I bothered you."
"It's always safest to fetch me," I assured her with a smile.
She indicated my arm. "You look as though you've been in a war."
My smile fell. "Do you mind if I stay overnight here? I don't fancy going home in the dark, and I think it best if I'm nearby so I can monitor your condition."
She welcomed my suggestion. Knowing Kirrin would be fine with the Divers, she settled into a deep sleep that lasted all night. I managed a few hours too and awoke early in the morning, feeling a little stiff but otherwise satisfied. Posey was still breathing normally and didn't have any pains.
I left with her husband but we parted at the village green. He went on to the Divers' cottage to fetch Kirrin, while I wanted to see Dane and reassure myself that the danger was over.
The early morning air felt cool on my grazed skin. I ought to put something on the injury, but I didn't have any salves and it boiled my blood to have to buy some from the Ashmoles.
The overnight presence of the warrior priests must have dampened the spirit of the crowd. Most had dispersed. Some slept on the council building steps or under trees. The numbers of the priests and guards had also thinned. They must have returned to the palace for rest. The sheriff was still there, however, as well as Dane and Master Rhys. Despite their casual stances, they seemed watchful, alert. They kept to their own kind, the remaining guards together, and the warrior priests in groups surrounding the green.
Dane strode towards me. "Josie!" His pace quickened.
I smiled, pleased he was so eager to see me. My own pace quickened, only to slow again when I caught sight of his thunderous face.
"Why were you here last night?" he snapped.
"I had to see an expectant mother. It was an emergency."
"She was giving birth right here in the green, was she?"
"I ended up here through no fault of my own."
He folded his arms over his chest and arched a brow.
I hiked my pack up my shoulder. "I met the Deerhorns on my way. They chased me here."
He lowered his arms and his lips parted with his expelled breath.
"As you can see, I'm all right," I assured him.
He indicated my bloodied arm. "That doesn't look all right to me."
"It's just a graze."
He stepped closer and tucked my hair behind my ear. "You're disheveled," he murmured.
"You look in need of a bath and a good sleep yourself."
I glanced up as Master Rhys approached on foot. "One of my men just rode in," he told Dane. "Reinforcements from the palace are on their way." He frowned and cast a glance over his shoulder. "He seemed…strange."
"Strange how?" Dane asked.
"Excited."
"The palace can be overwhelming at first," I said. "Perhaps he's excited for you to see it."
Rhys shook his head. "Brother Vizah told me I'll want to speak to someone they met there. They're bringing him now."
Dane and I exchanged a glance.
Dozens of mounted guards and warrior priests arrived from the western road. Reinforcements, as promised.
"Master Rhys!" shouted one of the warrior priests with a grin that split his face. "Come see who we found at the palace! You'll never believe it."
Master Rhys set off, and Dane fell into step beside him, hand resting on his sword hilt. I trotted to keep up.
All the priests who'd arrived from the palace beamed like boys who'd won prizes at the fair. The smiles looked odd on their fierce, scarred faces. The warriors who'd remained on duty all night frowned back at their b
rothers, intensely curious.
But it was the guards who'd just come from the palace that I couldn't tear my gaze away from. They sported odd looks on their faces. It took me a moment to recognize they were expressions of hope.
The priests at the front of the pack moved aside, revealing a cloaked figure on horseback. He sat awkwardly, his back bent. A walking stick was strapped to the saddle.
He pushed back his hood.
"Balthazar?" Master Rhys cried, rushing forward. "Brother Balthazar, it is you!"
Chapter 8
"Brother Balthazar?" Max echoed.
"We need to talk," Dane said to Master Rhys. "But not here. In the palace garrison."
"Why not here?" Master Rhys asked. "Balthazar, what are you doing in Mull? Why didn't you write to us?"
Balthazar blinked at him. He looked uncertain, frail, as if his age had finally caught up to him.
It was Theodore who spoke with authority. "The captain's right. We'll talk at the garrison. There's something you need to know, sir. Er, Master."
"Rhys will do," Master Rhys said. "Very well, we'll leave some men here and come with you to the palace. I admit I'm curious to see it, although I want to hear your answers even more, Bal." His gaze softened. "You've worried us, Brother."
Balthazar swallowed. His gaze had sharpened again as he took in the figure of the broad shouldered master in armor that bore the dents and scratches of battle.
I was concentrating so much on Balthazar that I didn't notice Dane turn to me until he touched my fingers. "Put something on that wound," he said. "I'll see you later."
"I'm coming with you," I said.
"Your arm needs attention."
"It's fine."
"Let her come, Hammer," Balthazar said. "She'll expire from curiosity if she doesn't."
"And I'll be safer with you," I told Dane.
It was a winning argument. I sat behind Dane on the ride to the palace. Balthazar seemed to have recovered his wits, and he observed the priests closely. Our procession moved swiftly but slowed as the palace came into sight. Rhys and the brothers who'd not yet seen it stared open-mouthed. I smiled, recalling my own amazement upon first spying the magnificent building.