CHAPTER FORTY
Adina and Gryle ran through the city streets, their eyes scouring the alleys and sidestreets in search of any evidence marking the club owner and crime boss’s passage, their ears listening for any noise that might alert them to the presence of the escaped prisoners but, so far at least, they had seen nothing. And with each moment that passed without finding the two, Adina felt her urgency grow and, at the same time, a dark resignation, one that she forced down each time it rose unbidden into her mind.
Grinner had hundreds of city guards, and hundreds more of his own men at his disposal, while she and the others numbered only four—six including the guard captain, Marcus, and his fellow guard, Hugh. What chances did they have, then, of finding the club owner and crime boss before Grinner or his men did? Never mind the chances, she thought, you will find them, that’s all. Because they need to be found, they need help, and you…you are enough.
She consoled herself with the fact that they had not yet been forced to deal with any of Grinner’s men, and that was something to be grateful for. They had been searching for some time now, and the fact that they had been lucky enough to not run into some of the crime boss’s men—no doubt doing the same—was surprising to say the least. Not that surprising, a voice inside her head whispered, not if they have already found that for which they searched. Adina decided to ignore the voice and the harsh truth it carried, choosing instead to believe that they had only been lucky thus far.
She turned down an alley, giving no thought to where it would take them only meaning to cover as much ground as possible. She was so deep in thought, in her own worry, that her attention slipped for a moment. She didn’t realize anything was amiss until Gryle grabbed her arm, halting her forward motion as efficiently as a brick wall.
“Princess,” he said, and Adina followed his troubled gaze to see three figures standing at the opposite end of the alleyway, bared steel in their hands. Adina felt a rush of fear, but Gryle only stepped in front of her, and when he spoke his voice was calmer, more confident than she’d ever heard it before. “Stay behind me, Adina,” he said, using her given name for the first time Adina could ever recall.
The three figures moved closer and, as they did, the one in the center became visible, and Adina let out a cry of surprise and relief, the fear and uncertainty that had been building in her shattering apart like glass before a smith’s hammer. “Aaron!” She ran to him, hardly aware of the two Akalians at all as she pulled him into a tight embrace, and he let out a laugh as he stumbled in surprise. “You’re alive,” she said, pulling him close.
“I am,” he said, grabbing her shoulders and gently pulling her back so that he could look into her face. “I’m so thankful to find you okay. When I awoke, and the Speaker told me where you had gone, I was scared that…” He shook his head. “Never mind.”
Adina grimaced. “Aaron, about us leaving, I didn’t mean…”
“Forget it,” the sellsword said. “You did exactly as you should have done—as a princess, as a queen would. And Gryle,” he continued, nodding as the chamberlain walked up, a sheepish expression on his face.
“Aaron,” the other man said, nodding, clearly embarrassed.
Aaron grinned. “We’re going to talk about those heroics later, Chamberlain, I promise you, but for now there’s not time.” He turned back to Adina. “We have to get to May and Hale—now.”
“I know,” Adina said, frustrated. “We’ve been out searching, but I hope the others are having more luck than we are because we haven’t seen any sign.”
“The others?”
Adina nodded. “Leomin, Seline, Wendell, and two guards we met at the gate. We split up, thinking we’d be able to find them sooner but so far…” She shook her head.
“That’s alright,” Aaron said, glancing to the left wall of the alley as if seeing something beyond it, and Adina thought that, for a moment, his eyes shone a bright purple. “I know where they are.”
“Then we can go and help them. Grinner’s men are out looking for them too.”
Aaron nodded. “Of course we can go, but Adina,” he said, turning back, “May and Hale aren’t alone. I think Grinner and his men—a lot of them—have found them already.”
He stared at her, and Adina thought she saw a question in that gaze. It was the sort of question one might pose a queen, a question of priorities, of the greater good. However, just then she wasn’t a queen but a friend, and one of those closest to her needed her help. “We go,” she said, answering the sellsword’s unspoken question. “If there’s any way to help Hale and May, we have to do it.”
Aaron nodded. “I thought you’d say that. Let’s go.”
***
Aaron ran with Adina at his side, the Akalians flanking them, and Gryle bringing up the rear. As they ran, the sellsword wondered if he should have lied to Adina, should have come up with some excuse to lead her away from Grinner’s men. True, such a deceit would have meant the certain death of May and Hale, and Adina might never have forgiven him—he would certainly have never forgiven himself. For May had always been a friend to him, not just a friend at all really, but family. A mother to fill the space his own had left behind when Kevlane murdered her. A sister to tease him when he grew melancholy or brooding.
Aaron had left the choice to Adina, but he had known well enough what she would choose. It was who she was, why the world and its people needed her so much. He only hoped he didn’t come to regret it. He slowed to a stop as he neared the end of the alleyway in which they ran. “It’s here,” he said to Adina. “They’re around this corner. Are you sure?”
She studied him for a moment, then finally nodded. “Yes.”
He grunted. “Alright then—let’s go save the city.”
Although Aaron had some idea of what they would find, he was still shocked. Hundreds of armed men crowded the street, some wearing the armor and trappings marking them as city guardsmen, and others wearing crude linen pants and shirts, carrying weapons ranging from swords to daggers and even clubs. Grinner’s men, criminals all, standing with the city guard as if they belonged there. They were gathered around what looked to be a tailor’s shop, and though Aaron could not see past them, he could hear the sounds of fighting—and dying—taking place somewhere beyond his view.
“Gods,” Adina breathed behind him, and Aaron couldn’t blame her. The sheer number of armed men was daunting, but even more so was seeing the criminal and guardsmen allied against a common foe. Hang on, May, he thought. We’re coming. For whatever good that will do.
The armed men had their backs to Aaron and the others, but one of them chose that moment to turn and look down the city street. He gave a shout of surprise at the sight of the sellsword and his companions, and soon all of the men nearest them were turned, raising their weapons. A voice, one he recognized, yelled something in an authoritative tone and the men began to step to either side, opening a path through which walked a familiar form, though Aaron had a moment of confusion when he saw the silver mask. “The Silent Blade,” the man hissed, and the sound of that voice left little doubt to his identity. “The traitor has returned, it seems, to finish what he started.”
“Grinner,” Aaron said, and though anger rose in him at the sight of the man who had tried to kill him and all of his friends, it was a cold anger, sharp and deadly to the touch, and one which he controlled instead of one that might control him. “I am no traitor, but, then, you know that already, don’t you? After all, it was you who lured me and my friends into the forest, you who made a deal with Kevlane to kill us all and doom the city.”
A few of the guards shared troubled glances at that, but Grinner only laughed, shaking his head. “Ridiculous, of course. No, Aaron Envelar, word has filled the city of your treachery, yours and that of those you would call friends. The queen herself has seen the truth of it and has condemned May Tanarest and Hale to death. It is only through treachery, no doubt instigated by more of your comrades, that the sentence has not yet been
carried out.”
“Word has filled the city, huh?” Aaron said. “And I wonder whose men spread that word.” But he could see that whatever moment of doubt several of the guards had experienced, it had passed at the mention of their queen.
“The queen has no more time for your lies than I do, General Envelar,” Grinner hissed. “And it is good that you have come—you will die along with the other traitors.” He gave a sharp gesture, and hundreds of men began moving toward Aaron and the others, their faces grim, their blades raised.
“Those of you loyal to Queen Isabelle,” Aaron called, knowing it for a lost cause but deciding he had to try anyway. “You have been deceived.” He jabbed a finger at Grinner, “That man is the traitor, not us, and he has fed you a belly full of lies. Kevlane is still out there, plotting Perennia’s downfall. With each moment we waste fighting each other he grows stronger. Can you not see the truth of it?”
I don’t think they can, Co observed.
“Alright then,” Aaron said, bringing his own blade up, “If that’s the way you want it.”
“Wait!” Such was the power of Adina’s voice, the authority in it, that everyone froze and turned to her. She did not quail beneath those gazes, did not look anxious or afraid, but stood proud, gazing out at all those gathered. “I am Princess Adina, royal daughter of King Marcus. Many of you have heard of me, know well what I have done—what we—” she continued, gesturing to Aaron and Gryle where they stood beside her, “have done to keep this city safe. We have lost friends, have risked our lives, and we have done so gladly, for Perennia, Telrear, is a place worth fighting for—worth dying for, if that is what is required.”
She paused to take a breath, and Aaron glanced between her and the crowd, saw some of the guards hesitating, torn between their loyalty for their queen, the trust she had seemed to place in Councilman Grinner, and Adina’s words.
They’re close, Aaron, Co said, her voice excited and anxious all at once.
Yes, Aaron thought, but not close enough. Through his bond with the Virtue, he could feel the men hardening their hearts, preparing themselves for the grim task of cutting down one of royal blood. They heard her words, but they did not feel them, did not recognize, fully, the truth of them. Struck by an idea, Aaron reached out and placed a gentle hand on Adina’s shoulder. We will make them feel, Firefly. We will make them understand.
Aaron, Co said, I…this has not been done before. I don’t know if it is even possible.
But Aaron did not respond, for he was concentrated on shaping the power of the bond, of reaching out to take hold of the storm of emotions that raged within Adina—righteous anger at Grinner for the deaths he had caused, fear for her friends and herself but, most of all, sadness for a city, on the brink of destruction, one she would do anything to save.
Adina let out a small gasp as the power of the bond touched her, and she glanced at Aaron uncertainly, who only gave a sharp nod back. “Tell them,” he said through gritted teeth, straining under the immense pressure of using the power in such a way, “they will hear you.”
“Citizens of Perennia,” Adina said, turning back to the armed men, and each word carried with it the weight of her feeling, the weight of her truth. “General Envelar, myself, and these others have done everything we have to protect you, to protect this city. It is the reason you signed up for the guard, isn’t it? You did not sign up to hurt, but to help, not to kill, but to save. Will you now allow this, this creature,” she said, gesturing at Grinner, “to make a farce of your duty, of your sacrifice? To make of you no more than a blade for him to wield as he would? Would you have him make of you a murderer?”
The men hesitated at that, the guardsmen among the group frowning and glancing at each other. “Perennia does not need more corpses,” Adina went on, her voice ringing out, “we do not need more blades. We need men, men like yourselves who would sacrifice everything to protect their families, their home. Perennia needs you, guardsmen,” she said, her gaze roaming the faces of those gathered, “will you answer her call?”
“Enough! You have heard your queen’s wishes,” Grinner screamed, his voice a high shriek. “Kill them!”
Still the guards hesitated, unsure, but Grinner’s men, at least, did not, and dozens of men separated themselves from the guardsmen with a roar, charging at Aaron and the others. “Stay back, Princess,” Aaron said grimly as he, Gryle, and the two Akalians stepped up to meet them. “You have done your convincing—now it’s our turn to do ours.”
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
May watched as the axe flashed down again, burying itself in the forehead of the latest man to brave the doorway. Grunting, the crime boss gave the corpse a kick, and it tumbled out into the street, knocking several of the nearest men down. Hale still fought on, as implacable as a mountain, but in the last fifteen minutes the club owner had begun to see the exhaustion and the man’s wounds—exactly how bad May couldn’t say, for she could not see the front of him—take their toll. His parries were no longer as fast as they had been, and not five minutes ago she had cried out as she saw the crime boss stumble, a sword piercing his stomach. She had thought surely he would fall then, had to fall, but somehow Hale had kept his feet, grabbing the man who’d impaled him by the back of his head and smashing his own forehead into the man’s face, leaving it a bloody ruin.
He bled freely now from several deep cuts, and his laughter had turned to dry, croaking rasps not long ago. His clothes were stained crimson from the blood he’d shed mixed with his own, as if he had taken a bath in the stuff, yet though he wavered from time to time as if drunk, his axe blade was always there to meet the next attacker, reaping a bloody harvest of all who dared come within his range.
May watched with a sort of grim fascination as the axe tore through the belly of the next attacker, and the man collapsed in the doorway in a pile of corpses that had once again begun to accumulate in the street in front of the shop. Suddenly, the flow of attackers ceased, and May’s heart leapt as she heard Aaron’s voice. Thank the gods, she thought, her relief so strong that she felt dizzy. He’s alive, after all, thank the gods. A moment later, her relief doubled when she heard Adina speaking to the gathered guardsmen.
Hale grunted. “Knew the son of a bitch wasn’t dead.” He turned to look at her, and May gasped as she saw the full extent of the his injuries. He bled from dozens of cuts, many deep, and May couldn’t fathom how he was able to stand, let alone fight. “Well,” the crime boss said, “looks like they’ve forgotten all about us. Just as well, that. I could use a bit of a sit down.”
He walked inside the shop, wincing with each step, and May grabbed a wooden chair from behind the counter and set it in front of him. Hale smiled. “Thanks, lass.” He eased into the chair carefully, as if even that small movement caused him great pain, then laid the axe—its handle coated in as much blood as the blade itself—across his lap. “I don’t guess there’s any whiskey or ale in this place, is there?”
May had spent the last hour or so rooting through the shop looking for anything that might help them, and she shook her head sadly. “No,” she said, but that gave her an idea and she hurried behind the counter, retrieving the needle and thread she’d seen earlier. “Now, let’s see what we can do about your—”
“Leave it, May,” Hale said, holding up a hand to forestall her. “Just for a minute.” He looked away from her then, back to the doorway and the piles of the dead he’d left. “Not a bad day’s work, anyway. Still, it’s too damn bad about the whiskey, though I guess I can’t be surprised. It’s been that kind of day.” He leaned his head back in his chair and closed his eyes, his hands still on the handle of the axe. “Let me know if they come back, won’t you, lass? I’m going to just catch my breath.”
Nodding, May hurried to the door and looked out. She couldn’t see much, for a wall of guardsmen stood with their backs to her, blocking what was happening from her view, but from time to time she saw blood fly into the air, and she could plainly hear the sounds of
fighting. Gods, don’t let them die now, please. Not when I’ve just gotten them back.
***
Adina watched in amazement as Aaron and the two Akalians cut a bloody path through Grinner’s men. Aaron had always been skilled with the blade, but he was even better now than when last she’d seen him fight, better, even, than the Akalians who fought on either side of him as they drove their way deeper into Grinner’s army of thieves and thugs.
The sellsword flowed in and out of his opponents’ strikes like wind given form, dodging even blows he couldn’t have seen coming with a preternatural ease. From time to time, his sword lashed out, the movement like a part of some intricate dance, and when it did men died. The man made killing an art, and it was at once beautiful and terrible to behold. Flanked by the two Akalians, he seemed unstoppable, and what few criminals managed to find their way past them, more by luck than design, Adina suspected, were greeted by the chamberlain who stood not far away from her.
Gryle had broken off the door of a nearby shop and wielded it like a club, battering anyone that came close and sending them hurtling through the air, their broken bodies crashing down among their fellows. Dozens of criminals were down in less than five minutes of the fight’s start, with more following their comrades to Salen’s Fields every second. Watching their allies get massacred, Grinner’s men began to show fear, several of them pushing their way through their fellows to get further away from Aaron and the deadly Akalians, and Adina wasn’t surprised.
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