May followed his gaze and had to admit that he was right. The sailors were doing what they could to keep the guards from gaining the platform, but for every guard they brought down, two sailors followed him into death. On the platform itself, Brandon Gant and the swordmaster fought back to back along with a big man and the other wearing the dress, but the four were being surrounded as a few of the more intelligent guards avoided the stairs at which the sailors waited altogether and climbed onto the platform.
May glanced to where Thom still lay unconscious, her mind racing to try to find some way to make it off the platform alive with the first mate. She was still struggling to come up with a solution when a horn sounded, and she spun to see armed men pouring into the square from the distant street. Fifty or more at the least. “Oh gods.”
“I’d hold on that too, lass,” the crime boss said, looking at the approaching forces. “Whatever you’ve got to say to the gods, I reckon you’ll be able to say it in person.”
“There’s got to be some way,” May said desperately, not sure if she was arguing with the crime boss, her own thoughts, or the world itself.
Hale grunted. “There is—we run.”
“Run?” May asked.
The big man nodded. “That’s right, lass, you heard me.” He gestured to the oncoming soldiers with the bloody axe. “Those fuckers there ain’t gonna be content to come up here and ask what all the fuss is about, I promise you that much. They’re here for blood, and they’ll have it one way or the other. Now, we have to go.”
“And abandon the others?” May asked in disbelief.
“Yes, abandon them,” Hale growled. “Don’t you get it, woman? They came here to save you—those men dyin’ over there have died for nothin’ if you just sit around waitin’ for somebody to come and lop off your head. Now, let’s go.” He grabbed May by the shoulder, trying to lead her toward the edge of the platform, but she resisted.
“No,” she said, glancing at the unconscious first mate, the man she loved, that she had hoped in her wilder imaginings to one day marry. “I won’t leave him.”
Hale bared his teeth, glancing between May and Thom’s prone form. Then he let out a growl of anger and frustration. “Wait here.”
Before the club owner could protest, Hale waded forward, into the thick of the melee, the axe he wielded flashing out with shocking speed. He carved a bloody path through the men surrounding Darrell and the others. While he did, May ran to Thom, checked his pulse, and was relieved to find it strong and steady. Damn fool is as tough as leather and as stubborn as a mule, she thought, wiping at a tear that had come to her eye.
“Alright then.” Hale said, walking up. The big man she’d seen climb the platform stood with him, but next to the crime boss’s giant frame he almost looked small. The stranger was covered in blood—more than a little of it his own judging by the cuts on his chest and arms—but he was grinning wildly, as if there wasn’t a place in the world he’d rather be. To the right of him stood the man wearing the dress, only, now that May was closer, she realized it wasn’t a man at all, but the biggest woman she’d ever seen.
“That’s the one there,” Hale said, stabbing a thick finger at Thom. “Get ‘em up and get ‘em out of here. To the ships, if you can.”
The newcomer started to answer, but cut off as a guard rushed at him from behind, growling a curse and brandishing a bloody sword. The big man started to turn, but May realized he was going to be too late, and felt a thrill of fear that quickly turned to surprise as the woman in the dress lashed out with shocking speed, her fist connecting with the onrushing guard’s jaw. There was an audible crack and their attacker stumbled away, but not quickly enough to avoid the woman grabbing him by his shirt and pants and lifting him above her head as if he weighed no more than a child.
The guard had enough time to grunt in surprise before she brought his back down on her knee, and there was another crack, this one louder than the first, as his spine snapped. Growling with disgust, she turned and hurtled the unfortunate guard into the melee, knocking down two more that were engaged in fighting the sailors. “We’re talking here!” she screamed, then turned back to May and the two stunned men, a contented smile on her face.
The woman’s companion stared at her as if at a loss for words, swallowing hard. Then he turned back to the big crime boss, clearing his throat. “Sure, boss. Whatever you say. But what about you?”
Hale grunted, shaking his head before looking away from the woman. “Don’t you worry about me, Urek. I ain’t no blushin’ maid lookin’ for a knight in shining armor to save me, and you’d be a shit excuse for one even if I was. Now, you just get yourselves and your crew out of here and do it quickly. I don’t want to be hearin’ nothin’ about how one of you took it in your mind to be a hero and got your fool ass killed, you understand?”
Urek grinned wider, nodding. “Gotcha, boss. Don’t be a hero. Don’t get my fool ass killed.” He turned to the woman, “Alright, Beautiful. You heard the boss. Now, if you want to go ahead and grab the—” He paused as the woman’s face began to twist into a scowl. “Well,” he continued, clearing his throat, “whatever it is you wanna grab, that is. I’ll grab this bastard here—totin’ bodies, after all, is a man’s work.”
Her smile returned at that, a girlish, innocent smile that was more than a little disturbing considering the mask of blood covering her face. “Whatever you say, Urek.”
The man breathed an audible sigh of relief and lifted Thom as if he weighed nothing, throwing him over one shoulder. “Alright,” he said. “Let’s get the boys and get out of here.” He turned back to Hale. “Where do you want us to meet you, boss?”
Hale grinned. “I’ll find you—I found you the first time, remember?”
The crime boss’s words must have touched on some powerful memory, for Urek suddenly nodded as if at a loss for words. “Boss…I never did thank you for…”
“No, you didn’t,” Hale interrupted in a growl, “and that’s one of the reasons you’re still breathin’. Now, go on and get it done—there’s no more time to waste.”
Urek looked as if he still wanted to say something, but he only nodded. “Yes, sir.” He started away, toward the least crowded edge of the platform, but paused when Hale spoke.
“And Urek.”
“Sir?”
“Thank you.” The words came out in a deep growl, as if difficult to say, and judging by the way Urek’s eyes went wide in surprise, they weren’t words the crime boss said often.
“Of course, sir,” he said. Then he and the woman were gone, moving toward the edge of the platform.
“Alright then,” Hale said, turning back to May. “Now, it’s time to go.”
May still hesitated, looking after Thom where he hung without moving from the criminals shoulder as they climbed down the platform’s edge. “But…”
“Never mind your ‘buts,’” Hale said. “That man of yours risked his life to come here and save yours—either he’ll die or he won’t, it’s in the hands of the gods now, and you bein’ cut down for being too stupid to move ain’t gonna help him one way or the other.”
“And this Urek,” May said, allowing the crime boss to lead her away. “You trust him?”
She could only see the crime boss’s face in profile, but she didn’t miss the grin—not the wild grin he showed while fighting, but a contented, peaceful one. “Like a brother.” He seemed to realize what he had said and turned on her. “If you ever tell him I said that, lass, I’ll finish what the executioner started, you understand?”
May recoiled in surprise at the vehemence in the man’s tone. “I understand.”
“After all,” the crime boss said, giving her a wink as he jumped from the platform and offered her his free hand, holding the axe up with the other, “I’ve already got the axe for the job.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Balen understood, vaguely, that he was in trouble. He knew he should move or do something, but the blow to the head had left h
is thoughts scrambled, fragmented, and there was a ringing in his ears that made it nearly impossible to think. He’d made it to, This is bad, when the guard on top of him raised his knife, intending to bury it in…well, somewhere. Balen was pretty sure wherever it was, he wouldn’t be thanking him for it.
He watched the knife start downward with foggy disbelief. A man shouldn’t die so confused, should he? Surely, he ought to know what was happening. It became a moot point soon enough, however, as a blade seemed to come out of nowhere, severing the guard’s wrist. The knife—as well as the hand it was attached to—went flying away out of Balen’s blurry sight.
The guard tumbled away—maybe to go hunting for his hand—and the swordmaster’s face appeared above Balen. Darrell offered him his hand, and Balen took it, allowing himself to be pulled to his feet. “Thanks for that,” he gasped.
The swordmaster only nodded, glancing around the platform. “We need to go.”
“Go?” Balen asked. “But what about May and—”
“Already gone, both of them,” Darrell said, giving Balen a half-smile that did nothing to banish the exhaustion on the man’s face. “I saw them leave while you were busy lying down and taking a rest.”
“Leave?” Balen asked. He knew he sounded like a child, mimicking the swordmaster’s words, but also just aware that he couldn’t stop. “Leave where?”
The swordmaster shook his head. “I don’t know, and it doesn’t matter. Anywhere will be better than here.”
“I notice that bastard Grinner’s gone,” Balen said, scanning the platform.
“Yes,” the swordmaster answered. “As soon as the fighting started.”
Coward, Balen thought with venom, but mostly because he’d had the same idea himself when the blades came out. “And what of Thom? I seen him, not so long ago—bastard was fighting like a madman, but I lost track of him in—”
“Gone as well. Along with Urek and his crew.”
“You sure that was a good idea, letting him go with them?” Balen asked uneasily.
Darrell raised his eyebrow, his eyes never leaving the first mate as his sword flicked behind him, slicing the throat of an attacking guard and sending him stumbling away. “I was a bit preoccupied at the time. Besides, if when we find Thom he’s had his pocket picked, well, I’ll call that a more than fair trade. Now, come on before those reinforcements get here.”
Balen followed the man’s finger to see dozens of armed men rushing toward the platform. They would have reached it already had they not had to plow through a panicked crowd of thousands of people, all seeming to decide the best course of action was to run directly in to one another. “Oh gods,” he breathed.
“Not gods,” Darrell said, “but they’ll decide our fate quickly enough if we don’t get out while we can.”
Balen nodded at that, and they began to fight their way toward the opposite end of the platform, Balen shouting at the few remaining sailors to retreat but not taking the time to see whether they listened or not. It was a near thing still, as they were forced to fight their way through several guards who had managed to gain the platform. But despite how exhausted he looked, the swordmaster made quick work of them and soon they were on the ground and running as if the Death God himself were on their heels. Which, Balen figured, was just about the truth of it.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
By the time Adina and the others arrived, the city square was in chaos. The large crowd who had come to watch the execution still stood in front of the platform, but, they seemed to have lost all interest in the spectacle. Instead, they either talked in angry, raised voices, or stood around with dazed expressions, as if they’d just awoken from a dream and had yet to figure out where they were or how they’d come to be there.
Adina hesitated, apparently trying to decide what to do. Sergeant Wendell took the opportunity to coax some air into his heaving lungs. They’d spent nearly the last half hour at a dead run, and he had decided that drinking and whoring weren’t such good exercise, after all. He’d promised himself during that grueling run that, should he survive the day, he would cut down on both and start training more, consoling himself with the knowledge that the one benefit of charging to what was almost certain death was that he doubted he’d live long enough to break his oath.
“Gods, what happened here?” Adina breathed, but no one seemed inclined to answer, and Wendell didn’t blame them.
It was clear enough that the crowd had got more of a show than they’d bargained for, and there were several unmoving forms lying in the crowd, probably trampled by their fellows, many of which had run past Wendell and the others as they drew close to the square. The unmistakable smell of blood filled the air, and Wendell took a moment to thank the gods that he hadn’t been in the middle of that crowd when whatever had caused the panic had taken place.
“With your permission, Majesty,” the guard captain said, turning to look at Adina, “let’s go find out.”
Adina nodded, her face grim. “Lead on, Captain Marcus.”
His expression set, the man started to push his way through the dazed people toward the platform. Wendell watched the others start in after him, shaking his head. “Ain’t no damn way I’m going in there,” he muttered to himself. “A man’d have to hate himself an awful lot to—”
“Sergeant Wendell!”
He looked up to see the Parnen looking back at him, a question on his face. He gave a long sigh. “Fine, yeah. Alright,” he said, “I’m comin.’”
It didn’t take long until they were surrounded by people on all sides, their progress coming nearly to a halt by the press of bodies. “Gryle,” Adina said, having to yell to be heard over the shouts of the crowd, “if you’d be so kind?”
“Of course, Majesty,” the chamberlain said, taking up a spot in the front of the group and pushing his way forward. Wendell didn’t expect it would make much difference, but when the chamberlain began pushing at those in front of them with his Virtue-enhanced strength, it turned out that there was some extra room after all, and they began to make better time as Gryle scattered men and women before him like chaff.
People studied them as they made their way through the press of bodies, and Wendell overheard mutterings of “princess,” and “the Parnen.” He didn’t much like the angry, threatening tones, nor the sullen looks they were giving him and the others.
“Uh, Princess,” he said, glancing around them nervously as he walked after the Parnen. “I think maybe this ain’t such a good idea, after all.” But if Adina heard she gave no sign, and soon they made it to the executioner’s platform.
Blood and bodies littered the area around the executioner’s block, corpses stacked on top of each other in piles as if someone had dropped a coin, and they’d all went for it at once.
“Gods be good,” Leomin said, staring at the bodies.
“Come on,” Adina said, heading toward the platform’s stairs, her expression dark. “Let’s see if Hale and May are here.” She didn’t say dead, but then she didn’t have to, and the sergeant and the others followed her, their own faces grim.
***
Wendell turned over another body, jumping back in shock when what he’d taken for a corpse let out a groan. And if a scream escaped him, well, surely such a thing was understandable, given the circumstances. “Sergeant Wendell?” Adina said, rising from where she’d been checking another body and hurrying to him. “What is it?”
“This one here’s alive, Princess,” he said, swallowing hard, his heart galloping in his chest. “Well,” he added, staring down at the deep gash in the guard’s side, “after a fashion.”
Adina crouched down beside the moaning guard, turning his face toward her. “Sir? Sir, can you hear me?”
Slowly, the man’s eyes began to focus, and he saw her crouched over him. “You,” he hissed, his lips pulling back into a bloody snarl. “This is your…fault. Traitor.”
Adina recoiled as if slapped, too stunned to speak, and Wendell found himself growing angr
y. “Look here, fella,” he said, “the princess here ain’t done nothin’ but try to help the city. Goin’ around callin’ innocent folks names, it ain’t no surprise you’re lyin’ here all cut up and bloody.”
The man sneered at that and started to say something, but broke into a coughing fit, blood and spittle frothing from his mouth. His eyes closed, and Wendell thought he’d have the last word in that argument, whether he wanted it or not, but then the guard captain appeared at his side along with the others. “Guardman Nicholas?” Marcus asked in disbelief.
The wounded guard’s eyes flittered open at the sound of his name. “C-captain Marcus?”
“Yes, it’s me, Nick,” Marcus said, kneeling beside the man. “What happened here?”
The guard’s eyes went from the guard captain to the princess. “Y-you’re…with the…traitors?”
The guard captain shook his head. “Not traitors, Nick. We’ve been lied to, all of us. That bastard Grinner’s tricked the whole city. The princess has come to help us. Now, can you tell me what happened here? Where are the prisoners?”
“T-they came out of n-nowhere,” the guard said, his eyes growing unfocused once more. “So many…the prisoners…escaped.”
His eyes fell closed again, and the captain leaned forward, grabbing the wounded man’s shirt. “Where, Nick? Where did they go?”
“I…don’t know. The others…went after them. Don’t know…where…” He trailed off then, and his body slumped as his eyes closed for the final time.
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