No one walked the normally busy Lells streets, which meant they either hid or had already fled. Sounds reached them before they saw the battle, and she flinched at the explosion that rattled gutters.
“That was Patch,” Chiddle said.
“That was his weapon?”
“It is a big weapon for big explosions.”
Lapis growled while Rin chuckled. “Hasn’t he had enough for one day?”
“Quiet is a memory he lacks,” the khentauree sighed.
Her tummy twisted as they approached Mimstone; what damage had those assholes done? Of all the squares in the Lells, that was most precious to her because so many rats sold items there and she knew the merchants. They would pay, for violating it.
Chiddle joined Dov at the southern entrance. The khentauree peeked above the protection of a wagon sitting on its side, and fired across the way at the enemy. Between them was another wagon, broken crates and merchandise scattered around it, and her heart pounded in painful worry for those there; Rik, with Lyet, Brone, and stallkeeps, hunkered down, heads covered. Patch knelt next to them, sighted his weapon, and fired.
He took out several mercs, sure, but also the awning and side of Brigs’s Shirts. Splinters of colorful painted wood and raggedy shreds of fabric spun away, pelting the bodies of the newly deceased. True, Brigs primarily sold cheap Dentherion clothing and knickknacks, but Patch did not have to take out his business.
Chiddle tore the nearest door from its hinges; Lapis heard the screams from inside.
“Sorry! We’ll get it back to you soon,” she called as the khentauree held it like a shield and hopped over the wagon. She tapped Rin on the arm. “Stay with Dov.”
“Lady!”
Dov slapped his hand on the rat’s shoulder, keeping him in place. Hunching over, she scurried after the Ambercaast khentauree, splashing watery slush in her haste to make it to the wagon.
Tech beams dug into the ground just beyond her, throwing snow and dirt in her direction. She squealed, fear propelling her to the shelter. She fell to her knees and peered through the gaps in the floorboards; mercs and janks hid behind a makeshift barrier to the northeast, with a larger group of agents arriving at the central entrance street to their south. The Minq sat across the square to the west, and merchants and customers crouched behind stalls. She assumed several more had taken shelter in the businesses lining the sidewalks.
“Did you have to take out Brigs’s?” Lapis asked as she squeezed next to Lyet and Brone.
“Eh, was in the way.” Patch plopped down on his butt and grinned at her, his eyes sparkling. Damn man and his addiction to the dangerous.
“Promise stands,” she hissed, pointing her finger at him. He blew her a kiss. Just because they survived the palace escape and the ‘shroud crashing did not mean they were invincible, and he needed to remember that.
Chiddle made a slit in the ground and shoved the door into it, providing more protection against their foes. “We must evacuate. More enemies means more peril.”
Another pelting of beams struck the wagon’s bottom, producing more cracks and jagged shreds of wood where the boards caved in; it would not last long under the assault.
“We should be grateful, their weapons run dry,” Chiddle said.
“I don’t think we can wait them out,” Lapis told him as she hugged Lyet and Brone, and patted Rik’s leg. They felt cold; too much hiding, not enough moving. They would stagger, rather than run, when they had to leave. “Where’s Scand?”
“He got away,” Lyet said, exasperated.
“He crawled between their legs,” Brone grumbled, his lower lip pulled down in a half-frown.
“Smacked his head up when he did.” Lyet smashed her lips together. “Freed Megan while the guard was bent over. Minq took him out.” She waved to the side of the wagon; between two larger crates lay a body, face-down, in grungy black and white fatigues. Glumpy red stained the area.
“Did he have an insignia?”
“No.”
One of Gredy’s mercs, then.
Patch stood, set the weapon on his shoulder, sighted, fired, then pivoted behind the door. Return fire ripped the edges to shreds, but did not penetrate the boards.
“If you destroy Mimstone, Maydie and Movique are going to be very cross,” she warned him.
The reactions to her words ranged from aghast fear to outrage.
“You better not have hit my store,” a merchant said, leaning around the edge. Lyet pulled her back as a rain of cyan beams tore the ground apart.
Patch did not reassure her, which said enough.
“Patch and I will fire; the rest of you, make it to the Minq,” Chiddle said. “These wooden barriers will not hold. You must go now.”
Brone leaned over, signing at the Minq. Hopefully their enemies had not bothered to learn it, because he gave away the plan.
No time to chastise him; the two khentauree and Patch blanketed the mercs and janks with red and cyan beams.
“GO GO GO!” She yanked people up, pushed them on their way, and they staggered, forcing chilled muscles to move faster, before stumbling to the Minq. She brought up the rear, just behind Lyet and Brone.
People in nearby stores flooded the streets, racing in the same direction. Why had they not stayed barricaded in the structures? Had the explosions frightened them into leaving? Some had kids; she raced to them, picked up two crying little ones. Lyet and Brone had followed her and snagged two more. They reached the Minq, where disheveled Maydie and Movique herded everyone behind the makeshift barrier of plundered stalls, counters, cabinets, crates. Maydie held a tech weapon as if she knew how to use it, and by the look on her face, she would not hesitate to strike a merc or two if they came near.
Lapis handed the little ones to them and turned, looking for who needed the most help.
Thunder echoed from the north. Thunder? Shrieking horses barreled past the mercs, who dove out of the way of pounding hooves. Guards in maroon and green dress coats and open-faced helmets with a striped, fluffy crest of the same colors rode them, jerking their heads around in annoyance as the animals avoided running over people in their way. The mounts shook their manes and whinnied, a couple reared, and the men yelled at them, which made them, and the people fleeing from the stores, more skittish.
The guards kicked at the mares, aiming for the scattering citizens, but the horses continued to defy them, snorting and dancing in random directions. More arrived, and the mercs and janks screamed their displeasure at the near-trampling. One enterprising man pointed and shot at the agents.
Good job. He must have a marching shirt beneath the coat, to bravely antagonize someone with a tech weapon and expect to remain uninjured. Maybe the janks would open fire and accidentally take out a special carriage when it arrived. Or maybe the khentauree would, especially if Patch told Chiddle what the colors of the uniforms represented.
Lapis ran for a cluster of confused rats who cried out for help. Grabbing two of the youngest by their waist, she yelled at everyone near to follow her, and braved the space between two agitated horses to run for the safety of the Minq blockade. Vaguely aware that older kids mimicked her by carrying younger children with them, she reached Maydie and Movique, handed off her charges, and jerked as Rin yelled for her. She sprinted to aid him and Copper as they carried an injured urchin away from the asshole trying to end him by reluctant horse hoof.
Leave it to the ex-guard, to care for the one most hurt. She could not let the enemy harm him for his kindness.
She triggered her gauntlet, the beam shooting out the length of her previous blades, and ripped through the man’s leg. He shrieked, and the mare sent him flying before it dashed away, terrified.
Another horse’s rear bumped her, and she dove to the side as the animal half-kicked; that would have ended her day in a bad way, had the hooves connected. Better covered in slush than in blood.
“Lady!” Copper hollered.
“I’m fine! Get to the Minq!”
The rider squirmed in his seat, pointing a weapon at the three; she swatted at him, grabbing his attention, as another round of screams rose from the direction the guards had come.
Her opponent looked; she dug her fingers into the ground and sent a shower of slush and mud and at the horse. When it struck her nose, the mare took off, heading for the sidewalk, and she hoped the guard rammed his head on a dangling sign, knocking him senseless.
Guards had dismounted to remove the merc blockade, which earned them fist fights. No weapons drawn, and she wondered how many on both sides had run out of aquatheerdaal.
A carriage with gold edging, white paint, and two maroon flags waving wildly in the frozen breeze rocked its way through the barrier, the driver whipping the two steaming horses to a frenzy, shouting ugly words at them.
And here it was. No simple noble rode in that atrocity.
She sprinted towards it, fell to her knees, and slid into position as the horses splashed past. Propping her right hand on her left, she triggered her gauntlet and pushed the beam as far as it would go. She held it steady as the purple glow tore through the churning front wheels.
Mud and slush splashed her; she winced away as the purple beam ripped through the second pair.
The bottom of the wheels careened away, the top of the carriage continued. It crashed onto the ground and skidded to the right, tipping. The horses, jerked to the left under the sudden heavy pull, stumbled and went down. The footman on the back flew onto the walkway and did not rise, the driver shrieked as the vehicle thumped onto its side. It slid into the sidewalk supports of Knickknacks, the pressure on the tongue snapping it in half. The horses struggled to their feet and fought to gain a semblance of unity, then raced away, the jagged end and tasseled leather reins bouncing along behind them.
The supports collapsed, sending the awning onto the carriage. Screaming came from the interior, made by more than one person, and the highest belonged to a child. Dammit.
The striped red and orange fabric burst up, and someone tangled with it before sending it sliding to the ground. The door fell closed, then slammed open, sending shards of window pane tinkling across the carriage side and into the mud. A huffing man grabbed a broken beam and pulled himself out of the opening, a tech weapon strapped to his back, one large enough only those as muscular as Varr could use it effectively. His knees dented the white side panel as he slammed into it, surged to his feet, and looked down.
He froze, his brown eyes bulging, the whites showing around the irises.
He recognized her. Well, her mother, anyway. If she looked as much like her parent as everyone said, Kale must think he saw a ghost coming to exact revenge for the death he caused at Nicodem.
She grinned, too many emotions colliding with her thoughts to make sense of herself, and triggered her other gauntlet.
