The herd surrounded him. Karl had sheathed his hammer and was doing everything he could to keep up with them. His legs burned, and his lungs screamed at him. He was gonna lose it, he knew it.
"Karl, up here," a familiar voice yelled.
Karl looked up to find Parker, hanging by his legs from a fire escape ladder, arms dangling just above the head of the steers. Between his hands was his spear, perpendicular to the ground like a giant trapeze.
Karl took three more strides and then jumped, planting his hand on a massive steer next to him to help vault him toward his friend.
"Fewer pints and meat pies might be a good thing.” Parker groaned as he pulled Karl up to a small landing on the fire escape.
Karl collapsed and pushed the back of his hand across his brow, wiping away the sweat. His face was beet-red, pulse rate through the roof. "Aye! Though I think a few pints is exactly what I need right now. Just glad ye were there to pull me arse out of trouble, or I’d have ale pourin’ out of a hundred holes in me gut."
“I’ll buy the brew right after we stop this parade of pissed-off steaks from tearing up the city.” He pointed in the direction the steers were running. “If those sons of bitches get to the bazaar, there’s going to be some major carnage. Even with the havoc of the Blue Scarves, the bazaar looked to be brimming with people.”
Karl looked down as the steers continued to rush past. “Aye, I’m with ye, Arcadian, but I’ll be damned if I’m jumping back into that mess. I don’t have yer composition after all.”
Parker laughed. “I don’t think you’ll need to, my friend.” He whistled between his fingers, and almost immediately, Karl heard the beating wings approaching.
“Well, it’s nice yer girlfriend loaned you her ride!”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
“Come on, come on,” Aysa muttered as she watched and waited for the coming stampede. She had to time things perfectly.
Her heart raced as she counted the seconds.
The lead steer, which had horns nearly as long as Aysa’s arm, dropped its head in preparation for attack. A step away, it roared and shot its head toward the sky with every ounce of instinct, prepared to end whatever life stood before it.
But Aysa had other plans. With perfect timing, she leapt. As she did, the steer ran under her, providing its back as a perfect target.
Aysa nailed the landing.
Almost.
“Shit!” she yelled as she bounced off the beast’s back and headed toward the ground. At the last moment, she wrapped her long arm over its neck and pulled herself up.
“It’s you and me now, tenderloin.”
The steer snapped his neck in every direction, desperate to throw Aysa from his back. With her powerful hand gripping a fold of skin and her legs gripping his ribcage, she wasn’t going anywhere.
“All right, buddy, let’s work together on this one,” she yelled into the steer's ear as they approached an intersection on the thoroughfare right before the bazaar. For the first time, she wished she could trade her martial combat skills for the magic of her druid friend Laurel, but wishing would get her nowhere.
Within a block of the intersection, she kicked her heels into the beast’s sides. It responded by picking up the pace. Now a body length beyond the others, Aysa could sense the entire herd surge to keep up with their leader.
“Attaboy!” she shouted. “Or girl. I really have no idea.”
A few yards from the intersection, she pulled at his skin with her good arm and leaned with all her weight toward the side street. Her weight and power turned the steer’s head, and his body turned with it. Glancing back, she watched the rest of the herd follow their leader away from the bazaar and out toward the southern gate.
“Holy hell! It worked.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Sal swooped low, allowing Parker and Karl to drop to the ground just at the edge of the bazaar. They stood, each with their weapons out and at the ready.
“The hell we gonna do, Park? The gods know we can’t fight these fuckers.”
He shook his head. “We can’ fight them, but maybe we can use the Blue Scarves’ strategy. Give me some fodder to blast!”
Karl got the picture and ran over to a mountain of beer barrels stacked outside a bar.
“Forgive me,” he called into the heavens as he heaved the barrels into the path of the herd of angry steers.
“Now!” he shouted.
Parker sent a thick, powerful blast of Etheric energy from his spear.
The barrels burst in an array of shrapnel, blue glow, and warm beer. Karl screamed and raised his hammer, but the animals hardly took notice.
“Ah, hell.” Parker grunted as he watched them approach. He was the only thing that stood between the stampede and the morning crowds at the market.
“Get outta there, kid!” Karl yelled.
But Parker held his ground. In a last attempt, he fired at the oncoming horde, dropping a few of them at the front of the line.
Just before he turned to run, his favorite overgrown newt swept in and landed between him and the steers.
With outstretched wings, Sal stood up on his hind legs and gave a roar like none Parker had ever heard. It was enough to send a chill down his spine, even though he’d known the dragon since he was just a little lizard sprouting wings.
He roared again, this time raising his razor-sharp talons.
The steers in the front of the group jammed their hooves into the ground and slid to a stop, and the ones just behind them ran into the wall of beef. For a moment, they stood like an old bug in the Heights found frozen in the ice. A moment later, the lead steer crouched on all fours and bowed its head to the dragon. The rest followed suit.
“Time for that brew.” Karl laughed.
“And a little spiked kaffe for King Sal,” Parker added.
Chapter Thirty
Finding where the stampede had started was easy. The hay cart that had exploded was still smoldering and was surrounded by earth torn up by the steers. With a flick of her hand, Hannah put out the fire before it could spread.
The perpetrators were close; Hannah could sense them.
She caught movement to her left, but before she could chase it down, she was hit on the back of the head.
It stung, despite her superhuman strength.
Hannah spun to face a large man with a thick shell-like substance covering his oversized arms. A blue scarf covered the lower half of his face.
He swung again, his punches strong enough to break stone and faster than a man that size had any right to be. But Hannah was faster. She caught his fist in the air and twisted his arm to the side. He cried out in pain.
“It was a mistake to come at me alone,” Hannah told him.
The man laughed under his scarf. “I’m not alone.”
A second later, Hannah was surrounded. Despite the blue scarves covering their faces, Hannah could tell that all ten of them were Mylek from their bright yellow eyes. Some were strong, and others were small and moved fast enough to blur before her eyes. One woman had sharp bones sticking out of her forearms, and there was a man with oddly bent legs who leapt over Hannah and kicked at her like a mule. But regardless of how their body magic manifested itself, they all fought with a blend of passion and precision.
They had been practicing.
Hannah recovered from the surprise attack quickly and showed the Blue Scarves just how fast and strong she could be. She held back since there was much she didn’t know, and she couldn’t risk killing these Blue Scarves until she had her answers. Plus, there was the fear of collateral damage. A group of Solyrians began to peek their heads out of doors or windows, watching the action unfold. There were third-floor balconies brimming with gawkers. Clearly, they wanted to see what the outsider was made of.
As Hannah tossed and tussled and took down her adversaries, she noticed one Blue Scarf not getting in on the action. A short woman with long dark hair stood just outside the circle, watching Hannah with an unwav
ering gaze. Something about her felt familiar, but Hannah was too busy to figure it out.
Hannah ducked as a hand like a knife lashed out at her. She had had about enough of this hand-to-hand stuff; it was time to get serious.
Her eyes flashed red, and with a flurry of controlled ice blasts, she began to trap those attacking her. Within seconds, the Blue Scarves became grotesque ice sculptures, straining to break free of their frozen restraints.
But the fight wasn’t over. A cry sounded from above, and Hannah saw one of the balconies starting to topple. A dozen Solyrians held on tightly, preparing for the fall. Hannah sprinted. One of the wooden stilts supporting the balcony had been neatly severed, and the whole structure threatened to collapse.
Hannah grabbed one of the beams and channeled her magic into it, converting the old wood to hardened steel. Then she ran to another, and another. Within seconds, the structure had been supported enough that not only would it not fall now, it would likely outlast the rest of the block.
She turned back toward the Blue Scarves, but they were gone, shattered ice all that remained.
“Screw this,” Hannah exclaimed as she took off in a sprint. “You’re not getting away from me.”
The city was a dense, maze-like configuration of buildings and alleys. Even with all the strength and speed at her disposal, she might have gotten lost. But Hannah had more than magic. She had know-how. Experience. She had been born and raised in a place like this and had fought tooth and nail to survive in a place like this.
Solyr wouldn’t get the best of her.
Letting her instincts guide her as much as her senses, Hannah tore through the town, racing past startled citizens. It didn’t take her long to catch a glimpse of her escaping prey. Even among a force as well-trained as the Blue Scarves, there was always a weak link.
Two of the Blue Scarves, a large lumbering man and an equally sizable woman, were apparently not as adept at hide and seek as the others. Hannah caught up with the pair as they tried to pull each other over a high wall at the back of a garbage-filled alley. Hannah used her magic to hurl the remains of a discarded rope at the woman. It coiled around her leg and pulled her to the ground. The giant man turned with a snarl on his face and charged Hannah. He looked like he could have tackled a statue without breaking stride.
Hannah simply sidestepped him at the last moment, and with a push of her hand, she converted his attack into a ground-shaking fall. But before Hannah could seal the deal, she caught a boot to the face.
The kick was hard, and Hannah stumbled back. She looked up at the new source of attack to find the young woman who had stayed out of the fight. She stood, fists at the ready. “Get out of here,” she shouted, and the giants obeyed.
“You can’t beat me,” Hannah stated plainly.
The woman responded with her fists. Unlike the other Mylek, she didn’t show any outward manifestation of her body magic except for the yellow eyes, yet she moved like she was made for fighting. Fast, fluid attacks followed one after another without an obvious pattern, nearly outpacing Hannah’s speed. If it wasn’t for Karl’s training, she might have been taken down by this young woman.
Hannah couldn’t help but be impressed.
She needed answers, and that required winning this fight.
Hannah ducked a high kick and placed her palms on the ground. A thick root burst through the cobblestone street, wrapping itself around the Blue Scarf’s waist. She clawed at it, nearly shredding the root, but it didn’t matter. The root was no more than a distraction. Hannah found the rope again and pulled it toward her, coiling it around the woman’s shoulders and arms.
Beneath the blue scarf, Hannah could see her yellow eyes widen in alarm.
“It’s over,” Hannah said. “I told you you couldn’t beat me.”
“No,” the woman responded. “But my people escaped. That’s what matters. You’ll never find them now.”
Hannah reached up and pulled the woman’s mask off, and once again, she thought she looked familiar. A young girl, barely out of her teens if Hannah guessed right, with dark hair.
“I saw you,” Hannah finally said. “The first day I arrived. You were part of the mob. Why are you doing all this?”
The young woman shook her head. “You’d never understand. You’re just like them.”
“Try me,” Hannah said. “I’m here to help.”
The woman looked at her as if she were calculating how to respond, but before she got the chance, she took a short club to the head.
“Hey!” Hannah turned to see a smiling Irmand with club in hand. “I had it under control, you freaking ogre.”
“And we thank you,” Irmand said, “but we’ve got it from here.”
A dozen of his men quickly surrounded the young woman, gripping her tightly as they lifted her from the ground and locked her in chains. She tried to struggle, but one of the guards sent a calloused fist into her stomach.
“Take it easy,” Hannah said, but Irmand just smirked.
“You did your part. This is city business now. This little shit has been tearing this city apart, but now the city is going to get some justice.”
Chapter Thirty-One
"Incoming," Aysa yelled as she snatched the knife out of thin air. She looked at its point, her eyes tracing the sharp blade. It was not a weapon of war, but common cutlery. She glanced over Parker with a tipsy giggle. "Want to play?"
Before he could answer, she flipped the knife over in her hand, grabbed it by the blade, and threw it thirty yards across the dining hall toward Karl, who stood up against the wall. He raised his mug, and the blade sank an eighth of an inch into the wooden stein.
"Drink, ye rat bastard," Karl shouted across the room.
A crowd had formed around them, and they all cheered as Aysa tilted the bottom of her mug toward the vaulted ceiling. It was a party like none Parker had seen for weeks, if not months.
The entire place was alive with energy. As far as Parker knew, the people of Solyr were preparing for the funeral party, but apparently, all of the provisions that had been brought into the city for King Aurel’s final resting day had been diverted to this celebration. A celebration of the demise of the Blue Scarves, or at least their leader’s capture.
"Well?" Aysa asked with a bit of a slur.
Parker shook his head and laughed. “I know better than to mess with the rearick and the girl from Baseek in a drinking game, especially one that includes weapons."
"It's not a weapon," Aysa shot back. Her brow furrowed. "It's just a steak knife."
Parker grinned. "Close enough. How's this work?"
"Comin’ at ye!" Karl shouted from across the room. Parker watched the knife fly at them, end over end. Aysa shifted to her left, and the knife sank deep into the wall behind her.
"Drink, short stuff.” She wrenched the knife out of the wall and took three paces toward Karl. She inspected the blade’s point to make sure it could still bite flesh if necessary. "It's easy. You’d be good at it—for a round or two. All you have to do is throw the knife, and if you miss your opponent, you get to drink."
Parker shook his head. "I can't believe I'm actually on your team."
Aysa tilted her head to the side. "It's better than being on the other team, right?" She turned her eyes back toward Karl. "Knives up!" She threw the blade, and Karl struck it out of the air with a silver food platter. The crowd roared again.
“I expect you two will be super drunk before you get close to drawing first blood."
"That's what makes it fun.” Aysa laughed. "Sure you don't want to play?"
"I think I’ll go check on Hannah."
Aysa waved her hand. "Drinking and throwing sharp objects is way more fun than making out. Believe me, I've tried both."
Parker was still laughing as he walked across the hall. Aysa was one of a kind; the only person who might actually be more out there was Karl. He and Hannah had come a long way since the Boulevard in Arcadia, and Parker had to admit he didn't mind this l
ife or his companions. Sure, he missed the rest of the crew, especially Hadley, even though he’d never tell the mystic that. But if you had to have anybody on the team to keep things interesting, it would be the rearick and the Baseeki.
Weaving through the crowd, he could almost taste the excitement amongst them. The Blue Scarves had been causing disruption in their society for too long. As far as Irmand and the others were concerned, they were probably the ones who had assassinated their beloved king.
Parker thought of Vitali and his information-gathering mission and scanned the crowd, looking for the Lynqi, but he was nowhere in sight. However, Parker did get a line of sight on a beautiful young woman standing alone with a drink across the room. He wondered if he could get her attention for a few minutes.
He beelined it for Hannah, a few people stopping him along the way, congratulating him on the work he and the rest of the team had done to save the city, both at the burning apartment and on the streets with the steers. Each of them, though, really wanted to talk about Hannah. As usual, she was the one on everyone’s mind, Parker’s included.
After the tenth person stopped him, he excused himself and cut across the room with his eyes on the floor, hoping he could make it across.
“You come here often?” Parker said with his shoulders pushed back.
“Not often enough,” Hannah replied. “I never thought I’d find a guy like you in a place like this.”
“Is that a good thing?” Parker asked, his face screwed up in confusion.
“I guess you could say it’s open for interpretation.” She smiled. “It can mean whatever you want it to mean."
"All right. I think it means that you want to get out of this place and settle down in that five-star apartment they gave you."
Hannah raised an eyebrow and twisted a spoon in her drink. Lifting the glass to her lips, she tilted it and took a sip.
Solyrian Conspiracy - C M Raymond & L E Barbant Page 10