War (The Four Horsemen, #2)(97)

Clearly there was fighting here, just as there had been in Jerusalem. Maybe religion was at the root of it, like it was for my country, or maybe it was something else. Desperate people are often angry people. And since the Arrival, so many of us have been desperate. That’s really all it takes to start a war—anger and desperation.

Once I enter the city proper, I quickly realize two things: One, Mansoura is huge—much larger than some of the cities we’ve raided so far. And two, in spite of its size, it might already be abandoned. Window panes are missing, buildings are crumbling, and the streets are littered with debris.

However, the gas lamps are lit, and somebody had to light them, which means despite all outward appearances, people still live here.

My eyes scour the sleeping city. In less than twelve hours, an army thousands strong will descend on the place, burning and killing and raiding everything in sight. Even on the wings of my passion and War’s kindness, there’s still this sick underbelly to our relationship.

Egyptian soldiers manifest out of the darkness, just as they did in Port Said. And just like in Port Said, their weapons are drawn. There’s even an archer, leveling his arrow at my chest.

“State your business,” one of them demands.

Briefly, I wonder if every stranger entering town this late at night is welcomed this way. Doesn’t matter.

“War is stationed less than twenty kilometers from your town,” I say. “In a few hours he and his army of five thousand will ride into your city, and they will destroy everything.”

The soldiers don’t lower their weapons.

“How do you know this?” one of them asks.

“I’m his—” Wife. I bite my tongue to keep from voicing that damning title. “I’m one of his soldiers.”

I hear the creak of wood as the archer pulls back on his bow. One slip of his fingers, and I’ll take an arrow to the chest.

“Why should we trust you?” the archer asks.

“You don’t have any reason to,” I admit, “but I’m begging you to take a chance and evacuate what you can of your city.”

My eyes move to said city. If there’s still as many people here as there were before the apocalypse, there’s no way all of them will have time to escape. But some of them will, and that’s all that matters.

“If you don’t want trouble,” one of the soldiers says, “I’d suggest you go back the way you came.”

Why does no one ever believe me?

“Listen,” I say. “The rumors about the east are all true. War has already swept through New Palestine. He will sweep through here too. I’ve seen it happen to several cities. It happened to mine.”

I can’t tell in the darkness, but the men seem skeptical.

“Have any of your messengers disappeared recently without a trace?” I ask, trying not to sound exasperated. “Have your aviaries had trouble delivering messages to certain cities to the east?”

I see two of the men exchange a look.

“How about the sky? Have you noticed it’s been hazy recently? Have you seen some ash floating in the wind?”

Again, the men exchange a look.

“The horseman likes to burn his cities and kill anything that comes close to them. Your missing messengers are dead, and the cities north and east of you have all burned. Port Said is gone. So is Arish and most—if not all—of New Palestine”

The soldiers look at each other, then murmur softly amongst themselves. The archer still has his weapon trained on me, but even he is listening in on the quiet discussion.

Eventually they come to some sort of decision.

“And if we believe you?” one says, albeit begrudgingly. “What then?”

For a moment the words don’t process. I guess I hadn’t expected them to come around. Not when they’d seemed so distrustful.

“There isn’t much time,” I tell the soldiers. “War’s men will be waking in an hour, maybe less, and they will begin to mobilize. If the people here hope to escape, they will need to leave immediately.”

“If you’ve lied to us,” the archer says still holding his bow and arrow loosely, “you’ll pay for it.”

Unfortunately—

“I’m telling the truth.”

Fifteen minutes later I’m galloping down the streets of Mansoura.

“Wake up!” I shout as I go. “You all need to evacuate! War is coming!” I move through the city, shouting various versions of the same thing over and over until my voice grows hoarse.

This was the idea that formed when I sat with Zara and those other women. I might not be able to fight War’s army, but I could still warn the cities the horseman was poised to attack, starting with this one.

Slowly, Mansoura rouses. Lamps are being lit inside homes, and I can see people shuffling about, or peering outside curiously. Eventually, I see families flood into the streets, some with their belongings.

I pause briefly to take it all in.

I managed to warn them. I actually did it.

I touch my bracelet, rubbing my thumb over the Hand of Miriam. A part of me swells with pride. I actually helped these people. They might truly survive War, all because I dared to slip away and alert them to what was coming.

Amongst the chaos I hear the clop of hooves, and a horse and its rider sidle up next to me.