Wexler, Django - The Wells of Sorcery 03 - Siege of Rage and Ruin by Wexler Django

Author:Wexler, Django [Wexler, Django]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Tom Doherty Associates

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The mob is, if anything, bigger than the one that had gathered outside rebel headquarters. The shops of the Eighth Ward market, once a mix of cheap food and religious curio-sellers catering to pilgrims, are now shuttered and dark. But the irregular cobbled space between them is packed with people, many of them carrying torches, so it looks like a bobbing sea of lights. The rain has gotten harder, slicking hair and soaking clothes. Here and there, wood-and-paper umbrellas shift about like buoys in a rough storm.

At the periphery, most of those gathered are quiet, or even curious. The more frantic and energetic have pushed their way to the center, where several bonfires are raging, consuming piles of window shutters and furniture. The tightest knot of the crowd surrounds an older stone building, pounding at the door and throwing themselves against the windows. There’s a wagon parked outside, which I guess delivered the first of the food Kosura had shared—its bed is empty now, and the team is gone. Probably butchered for meat.

Behind me are Zarun, Jack, and a squad of thirty or forty Blues. More are converging from across the city, but not enough.

“Is Hasaka sending soldiers?” I ask.

The closest Blue nods. “He says it will take several hours to gather a sufficient force without weakening the defenses on the walls.”

“Then we’re not waiting.” I look at Zarun. “We’re getting Meroe and the others out. Zarun, can you clear a path?”

“I … could.” Zarun looks grim, his hair hanging and sodden, skin slick with rain. “But not gently.”

“I don’t give a rotting toss about gently,” I growl. “Wait for my signal. But if they come at us, break them.”

He nods. I turn to Jack.

“You get to Meroe and stay with her, whatever happens. Even if I get dragged down. Leave me behind. Understand?”

Jack, her purple hair hanging in a fringe in front of her eyes, gives a solemn nod. “Faithful Jack will protect fair Meroe with her life. But she trusts it will not come to that.”

“I don’t rotting trust anything. Not today.” To the Blue, I say, “Have your people stay here and form a line. Watch our way out.”

“Understood,” the soldier says. The closest parts of the crowd shy away as they form up, leveling spears.

I gesture the line to open, and step through. Rain splashes all around me, rivulets running between the cobbles, puddles already forming. I can feel Zarun and Jack at my back, and I face the wall of bodies with a snarl. I draw in a breath and shout.

“Everyone clear a path!”

As I expected, this doesn’t get much response. A few people edge sideways, misliking the look of the Blues, but most aren’t paying attention. The air is full of shouts and the pounding of the rain.

Fair enough.

I ignite my blades with a snap-hiss. They stand out in the gray darkness, two flares of brilliant green, hissing and spitting as I raise them over my head. I shape them, making them longer and narrower, closer to spears than swords.

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