The beast in front of him paused, watching. Red eyes like twin flares of hate.
“You know me, don’t you?” It was a whisper. “You know who I am.”
Then he remembered something – something from his tutor, long ago.
And in a rush, he realised what he should do.
* * *
On the wall, the archer commander fell back, visibility almost nil.
The smoke whorled and eddied – he could see the fires, spreading through the Fayre, see the spearmen falling back from skirmishing as the heat overcame them. The handful of beasts that were loose in the bared woodwork of the market were wreaking devastation – and there was nothing to touch them.
Almost nothing.
Upon the wall were stockpiled water barrels – a contingency that’d made his troops groan with the necessity of pulley-hauling them, hand over hand, to lay them in rows on the top of the bank.
He could see Jade’s green-and-white banner, fluttering, flashing, a flare of hope in the wreathing grey, the dancing sparks. He thought he heard the Lord shout, a bugle call of defiance.
He raised a shout of his own.
“Cohn, to me!”
The hefty shape of Cohn dropped his bow and lent his strength to the barrel. With a straining of muscle, a cording of tendons, an almighty heave that bit pain into their fingers, they hefted the thing onto the top of the defences.
And threw it as far out as they could.
* * *
“Yes, you know me!” Jade was shouting now, his idea bright in the front of his imagination. He could see the map old Master Atheus had laid out for him – the city, the docks, the walls, the Fayre – the three tributaries of the Great Cemothen River that fed into her vast, wide wash.
“Come on then! I’m Larred Jade, Lord of Roviarath. You want me? I’m here!”
The thing came forwards. From the corner of his eye he saw the horsewoman – he must learn her name – turn as the creatures surrounding her lumbered towards him. Several more sets of eyes burned through the smoke.
He raised the banner, waved it high and clear.
“I’m here, you stone bastards. You see me? Right here! You know who I am!”
They closed on him, smoke rising, the air shimmering, the heat making his mare sweat under him. He counted three, four, five of them – six – that was enough.
With a jab of his heels, he jumped the animal through the closest gap and ran her for the river.
And they came after him, needing to tear him down.
* * *
With a splintering crash, the barrel exploded, shattering like ribs upon the hard ground.
A wave of water hissed over burning uprights, wooden stalls, spread out through the packed-hard mud. Steam plumed into the air. One of stone creatures was caught by the outwash. It paused, as though confused, rocked back and forth on the spot for a moment, then tried to come for them.
One step, two – and there were cracks in the stone. The red light limning its muscles had faded, steam poured from the joints – and the supercooling rock cracked, split.
A third step and it crumbled, shapeless grey stones lost in the blackened mud.
Whooping like an idiot, the archer commander ran for the next barrel.
* * *
They were fast!
Waving the banner like a madman, he was upright in his stirrups, shouting at them – daring them to chase him down and tear his city from his very flesh. And they came on, driven, the fight around them forgotten – they were fixated by him, and they were going to rip him apart.
He broke out of the smoke, suddenly he was blinking in the dusk light. Ahead of him, the river sparkled, it ran wide and swift, fed by waters from Irahlau, Vanskraat, Blinn, Aldarien, the very Kartiah themselves.
The map in his mind was so clear.
“Come on then,” he said to himself. “Don’t falter now.”
The city walls flashed by to his side – amazingly, there were spectators standing there – pointing at him and nudging their companions. Were they damned insane? He didn’t have time to think about it. Below the decorated stone, the empty skeleton of the Great Fayre tessellated slowly into the harbour – river boats bobbed, abandoned. Birds wheeled over them, crying mournfully at the smoke and the noise.
The scent of water filled the air – sweet, fresh.
Deep.
They were almost on him now – claws reaching for the mare’s rump. She jumped, flicked her heels at them. He fell forwards sharply, winding himself on the saddle pommel.
Reminding himself he wasn’t Banned, he sat back down.
“Come on then!” Waving the banner across the morning, back and forth, back and forth, he was shouting still. “I’m Larred Jade – and I’ll damned well teach you to burn my city!”
And he ran the mare out onto the wharf.
* * *
Watching the CityWarden vanish into the smoke with six of the beasties after him, Rika wondered if the old sod had finally lost his mind.
Around her, all was wheeling, screaming turmoil. The cavalry had lost its formation almost instantly. She could see the remnant of the shield wall, still hanging together, though harried at both flanks. From somewhere in front of her came a second splintering wooden crash.
The creatures had scattered – they seemed to be everywhere. A flicker of red light, a flash of sullen eyes, a shout, a scream. Abandoning their useless terhnwood spears, many of the foot-fighters had resorted to shield bashing – haphazard and dangerous.
Even as she turned, trying to see what was round her, she saw a shield catch light, gutter and flare into angry life.
The fighter threw it from him, went for his belt-blade.
He was already dead.
Rika was impressed with her Lord’s courage and wit – but less sure that six of the creatures had made that much of a difference.
As the fighter scuttled backwards, breaking the line and slashing at the incoming creature, she wondered, with crazed clarity, if the city would live to see the morning.
* * *
Jade halted the mare at the very foot of the L-shaped wharf, her hindquarters dipping as she skidded on wet wood.
As she turned, river behind her sparkling in the sunset, the stone creatures were still piling forward, hard and fast, eyes fixed. They left charred, hissing imprints where their club feet slammed, echoing, on the heavy planking.
He waved the banner at them, taunting.
“You kill me, the city’s as good as yours. Come on, you bastards, I’m here.”
Noiseless but for the rapid thump-thump-thump of their step, they came on – swift, eager, burning, claws reaching to rend.
The wharf was shaking beneath them, wood charring and splitting. The mare teetered over the water.
She skittered her hooves as he gathered her to leap.
As they came for her, eyes red, he held her until the very last moment... Then they sprang sideways, skidding out of reach.
The hairs of her tail were caught in the stone claws of the lead creature.
It ran straight over wharf’s edge into the sparkling morning water of the Great Cemothen River.
And sank without a trace.
* * *
With a crash, the shield wall gave, shattered, splintered wood, staggering fighters, shouts of fear and fury. No longer defended, each fighter was alone, spinning to see what was round him, coughing in the smoke.
One man fell back, clinging to his broken arm – shards of shield still hung crazily from the handle and strapping.
Through the gap, an arrowhead of creatures came tearing, ripping to left and right. Broken now, the foot-fighters scattered, falling back. Some rallied into groups, huddled into mini-defensive formations, spears bristling, daring the creatures to come near.