In Her Shadow(33)

Now, pinched between so many people bigger than himself, Valex wondered if he'd made a terrible mistake. As he struggled to breathe, he realized he found the idea of an orphanage not quite as bad as he'd thought. That didn't stop him from pushing against the current of the crowd. And pushing. And pushing. Until, at last, gasping and wheezing, he burst out the other side. There were still people here, but thinly dispersed. The injured, the tired, the curious. Few even looked at him as he came through. Most seemed more interested in what was going on up the street, stretching over the crowd to see.

Good, Valex thought as he bent over, hands on knees, trying to catch his breath. Exhausted and blinking, he watched little drips of sweat from his forehead plop to the ground. He couldn't rest long. But a moment. Just a mo–

Someone put a hand on his back. The boy jerked upright, ready to run.

"Valex."

The boy relaxed and looked up at the man. "Captain Marcus. I – I'm not used to seeing you out of uniform."

"Never mind that. Orders boy, do you have orders?"

Valex stuck a hand under his tunic, but before he could get his fingers on them, Captain Marcus yanked him away from the crowd. "Not here, boy, not here."

"Are your men okay?"

"Yes. When we got wind of something happening we holed up and waited. Didn't want to take the risk of acting until we had a handle on the situation, but it's hard from this angle." Marcus led him to a worn down warehouse. Indefensible in a fight, but a good place to hide. As soon as Marcus opened the door, the room erupted into a flurry of shining sword points. Marcus threw up his hands. "Whoa! Whoa!"

"Sorry, Captain. You've got to use the knock next time."

"Yes," said Marcus, then to the Valex. "Take that as a lesson. Always remember your pass codes."

As a professional messenger, Valex knew that by heart, but he didn't think it wise to point it out to a commanding officer. "Did you find her?" he asked.

Marcus swung a door in the back of the office. On the floor, bundled up in rope, was a beautiful, dark hair and dark eyed, middle aged woman. "Does that answer your question?" Marcus smiled and held out an expectant hand. "Now, about those orders."

***

Dux Lucius had asked his men to give and give until they had nothing left. Bled dry, literally and figuratively, only one thing could save them. Then it did. The effect wasn't obvious at first. Captain Marcus's attack must have started a few minutes before, the ripples it caused in the crowd taking time to disseminate to the front. Now the mob buckled forward, as if pushed by some unseen aggressor from the rear, because it was pushed by some unseen aggressor from the rear. His plan in action, Lucius wondered if it would work. Under normal circumstances, yes, but the soldiers on his side of the crowd had had enough. Coupled with that was the eternal danger of a fighting withdrawal, that it might turn into a real rout. He couldn't entertain those thoughts right now, though. He hoped his men had enough energy play the part demanded of them.

Dux Lucius held his sword up in the air, moonlight gleaming off the tip like a star. "Line!" he shouted at the top of his lungs. The few men he pulled for this task formed a second row a few yards up the road.

When they were ready, Lucius shouted, "Step!"

The men in the front line began a slow, careful march backwards. Without anyone to guide them, without being able to look back, they had to trust themselves not to trip over their own feet and break the line. And somehow, they did.

When the two lines met, Lucius shouted, "Rally!" And the two lines melted into one.

Line reformed, he repeated the process, retreating the cohort a few yards at a time. Before, he'd held the narrowest point, but with every move backwards, the road widened. With every retreat up the street, his line thinned. Dangerous, but the crowd thinned as well. Had he tried this without Captain Marcus hitting their rear, the mob would have had the mass to overrun him. Out flanked, however, it fought at both ends like snake unsure where to strike. Lucius didn't intend to run away, especially not with part of the crowd's wrath coming down on Marcus now. He just wanted to back up enough to give his men some rest. They needed to take a moment to get their heads together, catch their breath. The crowd still threw itself against the shield wall, but not with the same force as before. The reprieve was sweet bliss compared to just a few moments before.

The struggle wasn't over yet, though. Any moment, the crowd would realize it was trapped. It would panic and then. . . Then he'd have to order his men to draw swords on them. Not a fight proper, a massacre. He'd go down in history as Lucius, Butcher of Ankshara. Even with his men using clubs, Lucius feared some in the crowd had died. He didn't want to start killing in earnest. There was no stopping the momentum of the moment, however. Not now.

Dux Lucius raised his sword, ready to give his next order.





Chapter 16


"Here," said the soldier Lucius had left behind at the abbey as he slipped Britta's arm around his shoulders. "Go!" he said to the girl. "Run inside, get help!" He yelled every word into Britta's ear but she was past the point of caring. If anything, the tinny ringing his voice left in her already ringing ears was a mild inconvenience compared to everything else going on.

"Goddess," said one of the priestesses as she rushed down the path to help. "What happened?"