Breath of Heaven, page 55
He thought suddenly of Jayson and Ara.
He glanced toward the gap that used to contain stairs, then darted toward Harden and Rory, both with jaws dropped. Wade was cowering against the battlement’s edge.
“We can’t get out that way anymore.” Corim snagged both Rory’s and Harden’s attention with a punch to the shoulder. “Go back. We’ll have to get to the other stairs. Rory, get Wade moving. Harden, I’ll need your help with Braxton.”
Relieved no one protested or balked, he and Harden half skidded to where Braxton still hung over the edge of the battlements, kicking loose weapons and supplies out of their way as they descended. The other soldier had twisted around and, still flat on his stomach, was holding onto the sword master’s arm, both of their faces red with strain as Braxton tried to lift himself up over the side. Harden and Corim reached them in moments, Harden grabbing onto Braxton’s other arm. But there wasn’t anything he could use for leverage.
“We can’t lift him,” Harden gasped. “He’s too heavy with the armor.”
“And there’s nothing we can brace against,” the other soldier muttered.
“Have to…swing my…legs up. Corim…catch them.”
“Hold him tight. Don’t drop him.”
Veins stood out in Braxton’s forehead and both Harden and the soldier tightened their grip. Braxton began swinging his legs back and forth, breath puffing with effort. The soldier began to skid toward the edge to one side, but he cocked a knee and halted himself. Then, with an excrutiating growl, Braxton heaved his legs upward.
His feet hooked up over the edge, but he instantly began to fall back. One leg slipped free, but Corim snatched the other before it could drop away and hauled himself backwards on his ass up the slope of the walkway, heels digging into the stone. Harden barked, “Pull!” and both he and the other soldier drew back, Harden doing most of the work. Braxton’s upper body scraped over the edge, the sound of his armor against the stone making Corim’s teeth ache, but he slid back onto the parapet.
Corim dropped Braxton’s leg. “We need to get off the wall. The Horde’s coming.”
“Then go,” Braxton gasped, waving with one hand. “Don’t wait for me! Get to the secondary walls, or find another unit and join with them.”
Corim hesitated, but Harden and the soldier were already moving, angling toward the crack in the wall where Rory was waiting anxiously with Wade. “Move it!” Rory shouted. “The Horde’s almost here!”
Corim tugged on Braxton’s arm. “Come on. We didn’t haul you back so you could just lay here and get killed by the Horde.”
Braxton glared at him, but rolled onto his side, then hands and knees. Only when he began struggling up the slanted walkway did Corim head toward the others. The old sword master was wincing in pain, but he was moving.
When Wade paused at the edge of the crack—at least five feet across—Rory shoved him from behind. He half leaped, half fell to the other section of wall, which had tilted, but not as much as the one they were on. Rory vaulted over next, with Harden and the soldier hard on his heels. All four of them began sprinting down the empty walk toward the far set of stairs, Wade with only a little urging from Rory.
Corim leapt without slowing, landing hard and catching himself against the stone crenellation. He turned and glanced toward Braxton, then out over the parapet to the plains beyond.
Another wave of earth had almost reached them, and immediately behind it streamed the northernmost portions of the Horde—the black and twisted creatures that had held them within these walls for nearly six months.
“Run!” he screamed to Braxton. “Run, Diermani damn you!”
The sword master surged forward, his low crouch awkward. Corim waved him on as if he could somehow pull him along as the stone beneath his feet began to shudder. The roar of the wind, the screams of the approaching Horde, and the growl of the disturbed earth filled Corim’s ears. He caught the wave out of the corner of his eye a moment before Braxton jumped—
And then it hit. The section of wall beneath him trembled, but the one Braxton had just left groaned and tilted inwards, the far side falling faster. Braxton hit the stone of the stable section and staggered forward, the collapsing section thudding into the ground below with a bone-shuddering crunch. But Corim was already running toward the stairs, Braxton at his side. They could hear the Horde as they hit the top of the stairs and plunged into the darkened corridor beyond. The sounds of the others echoed up from below. They passed a landing, torches highlighting the cracks in the walls, a chunk of stone from the ceiling, the sprawl of a dead Legionnaire. They spilled abruptly out onto the street, the dust from the collapsed sections of wall to their right, people—not just soldiers, but the citizens of Temeritt who’d been helping them with food, water, and supplies as they manned the wall—fleeing toward the interior of the city.
The soldier who’d helped them save Braxton took off after the others and disappeared into the crowds. Braxton glared after his retreating form, then spat to one side in disgust.
“We have to get to the second wall.” Braxton was bent forward slightly at the waist. One hand rested on Corim’s shoulder. “But not by the main gates. They’re going to be overrun. We’ll have to follow the streets east and north, try to reach one of the lesser gates before the Horde overtakes us.” He began limping in that direction, Harden, Wade, and Rory on his heels.
Corim thought of Jayson and Ara again. Last he knew they’d been stationed at the main gates. His heart said to find them, to rush into the growing sound of death and chaos in that direction; his gut told him to follow Braxton’s orders. He felt torn.
Then Rory called, “Come on, Corim, what are you waiting for?”
Corim jumped. At the same time, the Horde began pouring through the gaping hole in the wall to the south, the creatures shrieking in triumph as they fell on the soldiers and citizens attempting to flee.
He turned and sprinted after Rory as Braxton and the rest disappeared into the shadows of a narrow alley between two buildings. One of them had half collapsed from the destructive power of the Wraiths’ waves, its roof sagging down in its center. The wooden slats of its face had splintered in a ragged tear down its front. But the alley between was clear.
Even as he slipped into its relative safety, he hoped Jayson and Ara had fled the main gates when they had a chance. He hoped he’d find them at the second wall.
And then he focused on staying alive long enough to reach the wall himself.
* * *
“Ara! Ara! What in hells are you doing?”
Ara glared at the interloper as he tore across the interior of the warehouse that had been converted into a medical ward. Rows upon rows of pallets lined the room, many still with patients in them, nearly all of them unconscious. Those who were able had dragged themselves to their feet after the second rolling wave had passed through and staggered out of the building into the streets. She was working hard on resetting the arm of one of those that remained.
Her glare faded when she saw it was Jayson.
“I’m trying to save this man’s life.” She cinched the bandage with a jerk. The soldier screamed, but she had to get it tight if she had any hope of saving the arm.
Dancing through the bodies, Jayson reached her side, one hand falling to her shoulder and pulling her back. “Leave him. The walls are collapsing. The Horde is already on its way.”
“I can’t just leave him! Any of them. All of the rest have already fled.”
Jayson sank into a crouch while the man she worked on moaned. He was panting heavily. He’d bit the inside of his mouth and blood stained his lips. He stared up at Ara and Jayson with distant eyes, not really seeing them.
“I have to reset the bone,” Ara said, her words strangely calm. In the background, she could hear a sudden escalation of screams, which she ignored. “It’s going to hurt. There’s nothing I can do about that.”
Jayson grabbed her arm and shook her. “The Horde’s breached the walls. Can’t you hear that? We have to leave! Now!”
“I have to set his bone.”
“He’s already dead! If you stay here, you’re going to die too!”
She was about to spit out angry, hateful words about abandoning his fellow soldiers when another hand clamped down onto the one she still held against the wounded man’s shoulder.
She glanced down, caught the man’s eyes—a green-flecked brown—and realized they were clear, no longer hazed with pain. His fingers dug into her own, his grip stronger than she would have expected considering how much blood he’d lost.
“Go,” he whispered. “Before it’s too late.”
That was all the encouragement Jayson needed. He surged to his feet, dragging her up with him. Her hand slid from the soldier’s shoulder, although he clutched her with his own hand as long as he could. His good arm fell back to his side as Jayson dragged her away. Tears burned her eyes, blurred her vision, which was probably good because then she couldn’t see the others they were leaving behind to their deaths. She’d fought to save them all since the battle began, had staunched their wounds, reset bones, held their hands as others worked on tying bandages or sewed up flesh. She’d looked into their eyes as they died, or comforted them as the pain became too great and they passed out.
Before they reached the main door, it burst open and another soldier charged through. Jayson drew to a halt, swore under his breath. Ara caught a glimpse of the courtyard beyond, saw it overrun with strange shadowy black creatures, snake-like creatures pouring over the rubble of a collapsed section of the wall behind them. The main gates still stood, but the Horde was already slaughtering the people who remained behind. An entire section of Legion fell beneath the Shadows, the creatures darting forward and enfolding them as they tried to run. The snake creatures were catching those the Shadows left behind. Ara would have remained watching, paralyzed in horror, except the soldier slammed the door closed.
“Owen, what happened?” Jayson dropped Ara’s arm as he leaped to help the man shove a nearby table against the door.
“Those damned shadows and snake things. They broke through our unit like a scythe through grass.”
“What about Gregson? Terson and the others?”
“I was cut off. I heard Gregson order everyone back to the second wall, then saw them charge up the main street. GreatLord Kobel was on the other side of the courtyard and his men did the same thing. It’s a free for all down here, and the Horde’s pouring in through the cracks.”
Jayson turned to Ara. “Is there another door out of here? There has to be.”
Ara gathered herself, the realization of what was happening sinking in. “There’s a side door toward the back. It opens onto an alley.”
“Show me.”
Ara darted toward the back of the room, weaving between the pallets, trying not to look down. Jayson and Owen were right behind her, practically stepping on her heels. Owen had his sword out, but Jayson carried nothing. She saw him stop to retrieve a sword and dagger from one of the wounded as they neared the back wall.
“Here it is,” she said.
Jayson thrust the dagger into her hands and she took it grimly. Jayson eased the door open and snatched a look outside, then motioned Owen and Ara out.
They stepped into a half-lit alley, filth staining the stone of the ground and lower portions of the buildings to either side. Trash rounded out the corners and the rank smell of decay, shit, and piss assaulted Ara’s senses as she turned toward the opening onto the street. In the sunlight there, people were screaming and sprinting eastwards, moving so fast she barely caught a glimpse of them before they were gone. She’d started toward them when Jayson snagged her by the shoulder and tilted his head in the other direction. “This way.”
As soon as he said it, the snake creatures appeared, one of them cutting a woman down from behind. She stumbled and fell with a shriek. A man staggered backwards into sight, arms raised protectively before him, and then a wicked S-shaped blade descended and gutted him. He screamed and fell sideways into the alley, trying to hold his stomach and intestines in place. The snake creature stepped into the alley and stabbed his blade into the man’s back, then glanced up and noticed them.
It hissed, a hideous sound. Ara screamed, and the creature loped forward, its tail flicking back and forth behind it.
Owen stepped in front of her. Jayson grabbed her arm again and hauled her in the opposite direction. Owen retreated with them, facing the snake creature as it charged. Their blades clashed, loud in the confines of the alley, but Jayson didn’t slow. Sunlight flashed on metal, and then Owen lunged forward, his sword punching through the snake’s chest. It tried to hiss, produced a gurgling sound instead, its split tongue flicking the air. Owen jerked his sword free and turned, running before its body had fallen to the ground.
“Go!”
And they ran, slipping in the garbage and run-off of the alley. Ahead, it turned and they lost sight of the street behind. The sounds of the fighting were muffled. The alley opened onto a secondary street.
They slowed as they reached the edge, but there was no sign of the Horde beyond. Men, women, and a few children were racing up the street toward the inner walls, but they weren’t being chased yet. But Ara could hear the sounds of the attack clearly here, and they were getting closer.
“We don’t have much time,” Owen said. “I doubt the Horde will wait to search through the buildings. They’ll drive straight toward the second wall, figuring they can take care of everyone who’s hiding later.”
“Then we’d better not waste any time,” Ara said, and stepped out into the street.
They started at a cautious jog, blades raised, all three of them trying to look in every direction at once. But within a block, they were running, with what seemed like the entire first ward’s population crowding the street along with them.
* * *
Lady Echeri herded a slew of families—mothers with clutches of children, others with the elderly—through the doors of the palace with a calm but forceful, “Follow the line of guardsmen to the catacombs. Don’t stray or we may never find you.” Her words were overlaid with the still clanging bells of the city’s churches and the Legionnaires directing the column of humanity with shouts of “This way! Don’t rush! Leave everything behind except what you can carry in your hands or pockets!” Already, both sides of the courtyard were heaped with carts laden with furniture, barrels, and assorted other objects that the soon-to-be refugees had thought couldn’t be left behind. Guards were seizing such useless items and tossing them aside, sometimes yanking them from the clutches of their owners before shoving the hapless, often distraught, people toward the palace doors. Echeri had ordered the guards to stop attempting to explain why they couldn’t be taken down into the catacombs. There wasn’t time anymore. Temeritt had run out of time.
“If they don’t agree,” she muttered to herself, “they can take their chances with the Horde.”
Another hollow boom echoed up from the plains and she turned, using one hand to pull the black strands of her hair away from her face. People were streaming from the second ward through the palace gates, its courtyard, and up the steps into the palace. Hundreds upon hundreds of people—most of them with looks of terror and panic, a few of them sobbing, all of them bedraggled and haggard and thin. Echeri’s heart reached out to them, but she could offer no real comfort. Her already diminutive figure had thinned as well over the last few months as the rationing began in earnest. Her clothes may have been of finer quality, but she had survived on bread and water for the last three days, not to mention her share of pigeon and rat.
But the boom had come from the outer walls. She dragged her gaze from the disheartening column toward the city; she couldn’t see the walls from this position.
Cursing, she hiked up the hem of her dress and moved swiftly toward the door to the side of the gates.
“Lady Echeri,” a gruff voice barked.
She halted and asked impatiently, “What is it, Commander Higgins?”
The Legion commander stalked toward her, a frown of disapproval plastered on his face. “You should not be roaming off unescorted.”
Echeri began moving toward the doorway again. Commander Leighten had set Higgins to guard her before vanishing inside the palace to oversee the evacuation. “No need to fret, commander. I’m heading up to the walls for a better view. The Legion certainly doesn’t need me to help usher the populace into the catacombs.”
“Perhaps not, but you should not be left alone.”
Echeri didn’t answer. Irritation pricked her skin when Higgins continued to follow her, all while bellowing, “Slow and steady, now! No need to rush.” Then, under his breath, “At least, not at the moment.”
Echeri’s irritation faltered, her thoughts turning to Kobel. She ducked into the darkness of the inner wall and hurried up the stairwell, emerging onto the palace wall’s battlements. A few of the Legion glanced her way, bowing slightly, but returned their attention to the city below as soon as they saw Higgins.
Echeri couldn’t stifle a gasp.
Beyond the sloping rooftops of the city, the wall was nothing more than a ragged line of stone slabs. Columns of smoke were beginning to rise from the edges of the city through the breaches. The Horde pressed against the shattered defenses, a black stain on the plains, too numerous to enter even through the gaps. And she knew they had entered the city, even without the telltale signs of smoke. She could hear the clash of weapons and the screams, muted by distance but still audible.
“How long do you think we have?”
“GreatLord Kobel will attempt to gain the second wall and hold them there.”
Echeri raised one eyebrow. “And how long will it take them to breach that? The outer walls fell in less than an hour, without the aid of siege engines.”
“I’d call whatever those Diermani-forsaken Wraiths did a fairly powerful siege engine, but I take your meaning.” He chewed on his lower lip, then scanned the people crowding the courtyard below. “We need to move these people through faster.”
