by Graeme Ing
Black and Reds maintained a definitive gap between the jostling crowds and the stage, upon which stood rows of soldiers of the High Guard, and between them a pair of padded thrones. The aging steward sat in one, grasping his bronze-tipped cane and talking to a diminutive figure in the other. The boy was mostly hidden from me, but I recognized him as the Crown Prince.
I shifted my backside on the window ledge and scanned the crowds for Fortak. Kolta and Ayla sat on the bed in the room behind me, and I was glad Kolta had found us such a superb vantage point. He’d had the gall to compliment her on the dazzling nature of her appearance. They’d been chatting ever since. Even now I was learning from my tutor.
I yawned from little sleep. The chatter of blackwings outside the window had woken us before dawn. As tempted as we had been to stay in bed, we had dressed quickly and silently, I in the last clean robe I had. During our hurried breakfast we’d been harassed by endless revelers trying to drag us out of our chairs to dance, or hold hands in a huge line leading out into the street. Upon seeing our grim faces, they shook their heads and left us alone, breaking into impromptu songs about the sourpusses.
They had no clue of what awaited them. I pressed my trembling hands onto the table and wished I hadn’t, either.
We’d walked the short distance from the inn to the plaza, washed along in the tide of people. My Guild robe spared us the worst of the shoving as people tried hard to avoid me. It hadn’t upset me, just increased my protectiveness. I peered closely at individual faces. Would he survive this day? Would that couple get to enjoy a long life together? Such cute children dancing around their parents. Gods, spare them at least.
Ayla had argued with me about wearing my robe, but I refused to practice my art this day without its familiar presence. Ayla had dressed in common clothes of muted colors. I was thrilled that she no longer wore her headscarf, but she still lowered her gaze and avoided eye contact. I could accept that it could take time for her to accept that change. Deep down I hoped that, over time, the violet hue would fade. Did I wish that for her benefit or mine?
A couple of streets before the plaza, forward progress had ground to a halt, everyone pushing against the backs of the people in front. It was there that Kolta had found us, dragged us into a narrow alley and up and over the rooftops, until we had climbed down into the building in which we now sat.
Once more I scanned the endless sea of people in the plaza below. Where are you, Fortak? I itched to use Perception to warn me of the elemental’s approach, but knew that Fortak would use my spell to find me. Every movement in the crowd, every turned head, put me on edge.
The roar of singing, laughing, and music seemed to fill the entire city. Streamers tumbled from windows, zinging between banners and flags. Kites leaned in the stiff wind overhead, pulling at their taut ties. A huge banner strung beneath the adjacent window bore images of the city’s favorite flower, the feresens. Despite the wind, the air was heavy with its sweet perfume. Very few families had turned out without a bouquet, and they were draped from every window ledge and archway.
The whole scene lifted my spirits. We would win today. Malkandrah had always been a resilient city. It took more than a traitorous Covenant to destroy what had stood for millennia. My mother’s blood flowed in my veins. I was willing to spill every drop of it to save these people.
The steward moved to the edge of the dais.
“Citizens of our eternal city.”
His voice boomed, reverberating off buildings. A myriad of conversations decayed into shushing noises and then near silence, just stifled coughs and the shuffling of feet as people jostled to see. I scanned the crowd, my breath catching every time someone fidgeted. I saw an outbreak of fire or jet of steam in every movement.
“Today we have gathered for a monumental occasion. Today our beloved Crown Prince becomes our new King.”
He flung his arms into the air and the crowd went wild, clapping and cheering.
Ayla squeezed beside me at the open window and wrapped her arm around my waist. Kolta placed a hand on my shoulder.
The steward droned on about the virtues of our young prince, about how he had been nurtured and groomed from birth to assume the lofty title of absolute ruler of our small kingdom. The crowd hung on his every word, but my gaze drifted from window to window in the buildings opposite. Perhaps Fortak and his cronies had sought a high vantage point as we had, but all I saw were normal folk hanging out, three to a window, waving flags on sticks to punctuate the steward’s speech.
“I can’t bear the wait,” Ayla said. “I want this over with.”
I nodded and loosened my tight grip on the window frame. Any moment now. Even the air had stilled, expectant. Fleeing would be impossible in the ocean of people. It would be a slaughter. I wanted to cry out, order everyone to leave, to go home, but the resulting stampede would be as lethal.
I thought desperately of anything I could do if I spotted Fortak before the elemental, but came up with nothing. I’d failed to convince Semplis. Fortak probably had every master on his side now, and the entire force of Black and Reds. I should have recruited my own army. My stomach lurched. I’d been a fool to go toe to toe with the Prime Guildmaster himself. Had I damned the city with my naïveté? My only hope was to force him to make a mistake, stall the elemental until Caradan showed up.
A dark shape drew my attention to the Mercantile Guild building across the plaza. There, in a third-floor window, I spotted a Guild robe. My heart raced. The man leaned out. Semplis. If only I knew who was with him, but the room was in shadow.
“What?” Ayla murmured. “I know when you’re thinking—you rub your nose.”
I lowered my hand and showed her and Kolta what I’d seen.
“He may yet come around, my boy. You gave him plenty to mull over.”
Ayla cupped my head and kissed me. “For luck.”
She hesitated and then kissed Kolta full on the lips. His eyes bugged out and he grinned.
I smoothed her bangs behind her ears and my hand lingered on her cheek.
No matter what you believe, always believe in her.
I blinked. What had Phyxia meant by that? Of course I believed in her.
Kolta leaned between us and out the window.
“Smoke.”
Ayla’s smile drooped. My heart skipped. All three of us squeezed into the window frame.
Wisps of smoke drifted above the tax office, and then a larger cloud billowed across the rooftops opposite us, like a sea fog rolling ashore.
“There’s fire in the next street over.” Kolta pointed to the flickering orange reflections in the windows of a side street.
A few individuals in the crowd below gesticulated wildly at the smoke above them. Boots shuffled. A towering wall of blackness gathered behind the clock tower. Heads turned. As more and more cries alerted the crowd, the singing and music faltered to a strangled stop. Confusion rippled across the plaza. Flags and bouquets slipped from hands to become trampled underfoot. Freed kites spiraled up and away from the advancing menace. The smoke gobbled up Solas, plunging us into shade. I craned my neck out of the window. More thick smoke flowed against the prevailing wind over our own building.
“Fortak means to surround the plaza,” I said.
The crowd came alive like a lumbering beast. People surged toward every exit from the plaza, pushing, shoving, knocking each other to the ground. Shouts turned to screams. With every punch and kick, the smoke drew closer like a tightening noose. Arms and ropes were dangled from second-floor windows, and fights broke out in an effort to climb free of the seething melee. A wall of fire erupted in an adjacent street, and flames reached for the sky. The acrid stench of burning was all too familiar.
“There,” Ayla said.
Fortak hurried down the steps of the tax office, his robe swirling about him. Master Begara scampered at his heels, while the Wynarian and the battle-scarred general followed, their armor and weapons clearly visible. No sign of Phyxia. Good. I didn’t wan
t to see her at Fortak’s side any longer. A contingent of Black and Reds met them at the bottom of the steps, and preceded them into the crowd, pushing citizens aside with shields and drawn swords. Their destination was obvious.
On the stage, the royal soldiers shuffled into a tight circle surrounding the steward and Crown Prince. They stood stalwart as crowds surged through the plaza.
“I have to get down there.” I swung my legs out the window.
Ayla grabbed my arm. “Two stories? You’ll break your neck.”
Blazing rooftops formed a ring of fire that flickered orange and red against the smoke. How much closer would Fortak bring the elemental? For Lak’s sake, man, play the hero card and end this thing. Take your glory. Stop before the slaughter.
A banner fluttered before my face, tied to a railing on the next window over. I jerked free of Ayla’s grasp and leaped for it. She cried out. The crude material burned my hands as I rode it down. It ripped and I plummeted, crashing atop a pair of men’s shoulders before tumbling to the ground at their feet. Boots kicked me in the legs and side. I scrambled against the wall and stood.
People jostled and elbowed, trying to squirm through the chaos, dragging loved ones behind them. Parents carried children on their shoulders, the eldest of which swung sticks indiscriminately at passing heads. Neighbor fighting neighbor.
An elderly woman crawled toward me, her clothes torn and speckled with blood. I dragged her to the safety of the wall beside me. She sobbed quietly but her eyes were fixed on the crowd, not her cuts and scratches.
How could my city devolve so fast?
The smoke descended like a blanket, thankfully showing no evidence—yet—of the brooding intelligence I’d witnessed before. Thank Belaya! That was a level of insanity that would turn the plaza into a bloodbath.
I sucked in a deep breath, took aim on the stage, and plunged into the mob. If I could alert the steward of Fortak’s intentions, I might be able to stop this disaster without summoning Caradan. I still didn’t trust him.
I’d hoped that sight of my Guild robe would part the crowd. No one noticed, so I resorted to shoving with the rest of them. Elbows thumped me and I took a vicious blow to the face. Warm blood oozed from my nostrils. I jumped and strained to peer over the seething tide of people as they surged this way and that, looking for an escape. Semplis was no longer at the window, or had I become turned around?
Fire raced through every wooden building on the plaza perimeter, its dull roar competing with the screaming and wailing. I spun. It was all around me. I was trapped, as I had been in the barrow of the soul wraith. My heart thumped, and I fought the urge to join the fleeing masses. In an effort to escape their burning homes, people jumped or were pushed from windows. At the sound of splintering timber, I whirled to see an entire building tilt and slide into the plaza. Dozens of families huddled and clutched one another until the rubble crushed out their life. Dust billowed outward, mixing with the smoke. None of my nightmares had prepared me for such wholesale slaughter. It was all happening too fast.
Heat blistered my back. Fire erupted in the building I had just left. The roof sagged and ruptured. Tiles and broken rafters crashed down into the top floor, which pancaked into the one below. A lump caught in my throat.
Ayla! Why had I left her? What had I done?
I pushed and shouldered my way back to find her, but made no headway. The crowd dragged me further into the plaza. I should have stayed with her. I had to trust that Kolta had saved her, done the job I had failed to do. Reluctantly, I turned once more toward the central stage. I gritted my teeth until they ached. It was time to stop this madness. I had to get to the steward before Fortak.
Two men fell at my feet and I leaped their bodies into an open space. A sword stabbed inches from my torso, thrust by a heavyset man dressed in black leather adorned with red trim. I leaped aside, sweat stinging my eyes. By fortune or otherwise, I’d stumbled upon Fortak’s armed guard.
Others retreated before their slashing blades and bludgeoning shields. They gave no warning and no mercy. A dozen bodies lay in their wake, writhing and clutching at grievous wounds. Fortak came into view, his disdainful gaze sweeping the crowd until it settled upon me.
“Bring that one,” he said.
I heaved against the flow of the horde, which surged toward the stage as if the platoon of soldiers could hold back the raging inferno. The crash of shields against bodies gained on me.
“You in the black. Halt!”
Not a chance. People turned to stare, perhaps noticing my robe for the first time. They inched away, making room for the Black and Reds at my heels.
Someone yanked me sideways. A kick swept me off my feet and I toppled to the cobbles. Pain lanced up my left side. Bleak outcomes flashed through my mind: trampled to death; stabbed and left to bleed out; or tortured and certain death at the hands of Fortak.
None of them appealed to me, so I grabbed hold of the nearest leg to haul myself up, my other hand reaching for the knife in my boot.
“Stay down, you bloody fool,” Kolta said, and stamped on my arm. Did he have to do that so damned hard?
I almost failed to recognize him without his Guild robe and a hat pulled over his eyes. He rolled a corpse on top of me. The stench of body odor made me gag but I lay still. Not the first time I’d been buried with the dead.
“Where is he?” a growling voice asked.
“Who are you looking for, Sergeant?” Kolta asked.
“A criminal in a black robe. Necromancer.”
“He ran that way. Hurry, he had a knife.”
I held my breath, resisting the urge to shove the sweaty, urine-soaked body aside. I listened to the cacophony of coughs and screams, and tensed at every crushing blow as people trampled the corpse on top of me. I was ready to retch when Kolta heaved me free and yanked me to my feet.
“Where’s Ayla?” I scanned the crowd.
“The whole place is alight,” he said. “I think I see a way out.”
“We’re not here to escape. Where is she?”
“Over here. There’s no time, my boy. We can’t save all these people. It’s over.”
“It hasn’t even started yet. Take me to her.”
I saw the terror in the people’s eyes, their exhaustion at watching loved ones trampled underfoot. They were on the verge of despair, ambling erratically, gawking at the building-high flames bearing down on them. The adamantine fortitude of my great city had cracked. These were the citizens I’d taken under my wing. My heart sank, but I was still determined to save them.
The stage was only forty feet away. The royal soldiers had descended to ground level and formed a barrier around it, using their tall shields to deflect the crowd. A handful remained on the stage above, gathered tight around the Crown Prince. They glanced around nervously but their resolve was plain. The steward leaned on his cane, shouting to someone below. Between the weaving and bobbing heads I caught glimpses of Fortak below him.
He’d beaten me to it. Damn the man.
A figure charged out of the smoke in my peripheral vision. Before I could react, arms snaked around me. The scent of lavender momentarily masked the stench of smoke and burned flesh. Ayla squeezed me so tight that I grunted, black and blue from my struggles. She pulled back but her hand slipped into mine and gripped it tight. Thank the Gods she was safe. I owed Kolta for saving us both.
A gust of stifling-hot air whooshed through the plaza, swirling the smoke upward in vortices and spirals, lifting the haze. Only now could I witness the true devastation of the inferno. Flames tore hungrily at every building surrounding the plaza and in the adjacent streets. The scene resembled a painting of The Deep. A thunderous roar rolled overhead like the chariots of the Gods. I didn’t need Perception to sense the primeval power of the elemental as it boiled in the sky, surveying its prey like a raptor did mice.
Bathed in a demonic orange glow, Fortak argued with the steward that he alone could save the city. How great a reward would his megalo
mania demand? He’d dealt himself a strong hand. Time to improve my own. Time to make him pay.
“Let’s steal his bargaining chits,” I said.
Kolta and Ayla glanced at me quizzically.
“We came here to fight,” I said, and he nodded.
Kolta and I stood back to back with Ayla sandwiched between us.
I wanted Caradan to come to our aid willingly. Summoning was an expensive spell.
Fulfill your promise, Caradan. This is no time to sit on the battle’s flank waiting for a tactical advantage. We have no advantage, only the guiding hands of justice and righteousness. Kristach. I’d spent too long in the company of priests! Are you waiting for me to start, is that it, Caradan? So be it. I’m not afraid.
It was second nature now to suck enormous power from my core. It no longer burned me. Focused power raced up my arms and out my fingers, crackling loudly as I unleashed a massive Dispel. Purple flashed across the closest building, dousing the flames. I sustained the spell, sweeping it the length of the plaza.
Shouts and cheers competed against screams of terror. Yes, let them see hope. People hopped up and down, gesturing toward the smoldering ruins no longer alight. Those closest to me backed away. Out of respect or fear? Either worked for me right then.
Rattling armor drew my attention back to the stage. The royal party was on the move, heading for the stairs. Inside the protective ring of soldiers, the steward retained a disrespectful grip on the Crown Prince’s arm.
“A city of fools, led by fools,” Fortak called after them.
Looks like his negotiations have failed.
He stamped his foot like a child and raised his hands to the sky. Lightning crackled through the firestorm, and a tornado of superheated gas dropped on top of the fleeing dignitaries. The soldiers of the High Guard cowered beneath their shields.
“Now it’s started,” I mumbled.