‘There,’ Blavat said, returning breathlessly. ‘It’s done.’
‘Thank you,’ Eir said. ‘Has it got them all?’
‘No, only those in the courtyard.’
‘There will still be a few kicking about then,’ Randur muttered. ‘It’s bought us time — and time is our best weapon so far. I’d say we should continue barricading ourselves in, working up the levels, and setting traps, all the way up to the roof. We’ve food on the levels above. We can last a longer siege. If they can’t get to us, we’ll be fine.’
‘I agree,’ Eir said. ‘We just wait it out. Wait for the commander to return. But what about. .’ She moved in to whisper, ‘What about Rika?’
‘She’s higher up. We’ll think about her when — or if — we have to.’
THIRTY — ONE
More attacks came on their way out. Alarms had been sounded. A defence had been mounted. Soldiers in armour lined certain streets and they had to pull their wasps high to fly over them. Artemisia pulled out another one of her strange field crystals, crushed it for protection; it lasted long enough to stop minor explosives from detonating, and whatever missiles came their way rebounded back to cause havoc.
They lowered themselves to the ground and continued to race along the network of roads.
Though it was harder to steer the wasp with one hand, Brynd withdrew his sword and gestured for the Night Guard to follow suit. Their formation spread out into rows of five now, for greater presence and to intimidate; warriors came at them but didn’t stand a chance: Brynd cleaved this way and that, beheading and then ramming them with the skull of the Mourning Wasp; and as soon as he discovered his steed’s resilience in close combat like this, he gave the signal for others to do the same.
Whenever he identified a block of warriors ahead he ploughed into them at chest height, the wasp’s skull knocking people to the floor rather than up in the air. Many spat blood on impact.
When Brynd saw the corpse of a metal dragon he recognized that they’d reached the zone where three soldiers had been downed; he slowed and began circling the region, but it was too late.
Artemisia waved them on. Back along the roads, back the way they came, back past people and buildings and blockades, projectiles firing from all sides, but their plan was to keep up their speed, racing too fast for anyone or anything to catch up.
A white glow appeared ahead.
They headed towards it.
Fuck. The walls started to stutter in and out of existence, flickering dark and light. What the hell was that?
Brynd lowered his body as close to the wasp as possible and mentally urged it to go quickly, towards the light.
Whiteness engulfed them. The sky opened up. Wind assaulted them. A sign of his concern, he had to remember to breathe, forcing himself to take in air. The platform gave way and his wasp descended down at a severe angle, but eventually smoothed out. Still they flew fast; still he refused to look behind. He heard something ripping behind him and turned to see only half a dozen soldiers alongside. The Policharos was flickering now, almost vibrating in and out of vision.
It happened so quickly. One moment it was there, the next it was drawn into the centre, folding in on itself. The vast, city-wide presence vanished inwardly. Suddenly a blinding line of light shot past towards the horizon, followed by an enormous bass explosion. Brynd closed his eyes and waited for calm.
He opened his eyes again and began to make a slow arc upwards trying to count how many were present: Artemisia, one of her people, fourteen Night Guard soldiers, and that was it.
There was no trace of the Policharos. An absence stood in its place, and various objects or creatures were circling in that vacant space, but now they’d lost all formation and consistency. They began to drift aimlessly.
Artemisia steered the group away, to safety.
They barricaded themselves in a room on the top level of the Citadel that overlooked the courtyard. As the moons glided above the city, they watched the slow progress of those down below, wondering how long it would be until they were freed from the time trap. The noise they generated was audible still, but was now a low, dull mumble, nothing that generated fear or intimidation. They broke bread around a table and served it with cold meats from the kitchen. Two of the soldiers sat with them, more for reassurance than security. Blavat also joined them momentarily. Randur observed this elusive woman who had played such an important role in the defence of the city against the Okun, an event that already seemed a distant memory. She seemed a nervous type and picked at her bread and ate it in tiny morsels. After a while she got up and left.
Eir said, ‘The woman spends so much time on her own that she must feel uncomfortable up here, without her relics.’
‘She’s welcome to bring more,’ Randur said. ‘I won’t say no to some of the more deadly ones on standby. So how long must we wait now, do you think? What will the gangs do next?’
‘They’ll tire at some point,’ Eir observed. ‘This isn’t an organized military campaign. They haven’t thought about the needs of their own, like the commander does so well. Not planned for nourishment and bedding. They will be cold and hungry soon and then they will dissipate.’
‘I hope you’re right,’ Randur replied, and stuffed a chunk of bread into his mouth.
They managed to get some sleep, curled up in their same quarters as if nothing was happening. While they rested, the soldiers managed to take it in turns to hold back those intruders who had not been slowed by the relics, but they were in small numbers and more confused by what was going on with their own kind. The act of cultist magic seemed enough to scare some individuals away. Those who came up the ramp to join in the uprising were probably shocked by the absurd scene that presented itself.
Dawn broke, the sun spilling its muted light cast the scene in the colour of blood. Randur woke to the sounds of the gangs being freed from their temporary imprisonment. The noise built up again. The crowds stirred as if they had been stunned. People were trying to make sense of their surroundings again. Though they did not seem to promise the same level as violence as before.
‘Maybe by now they hoped they’d be inside,’ Randur suggested.
‘Their momentum has been considerably slowed,’ Eir said. ‘I wonder if they’re tired now?’
One of the soldiers came to find them to report that all was well and that no further levels had been breached.
‘I guess now we just wait,’ Randur said.
‘Where’re you going?’ Jeza said to Coren, who was standing with his belongings in a case and a sack full of relics over his shoulder.
‘I’ve bought a place, on the edge of the city — a nice place.’
‘Haven’t you heard what’s going on?’
‘What? The gangs? Sure, but that’s none of our business. Well, none of my business at least.’
‘Why’re you leaving?’ Jeza asked. ‘You can’t leave me here.’
‘We’ve got money now, haven’t we? There’s more than enough for each of us to do our own thing. Why hang around? I’ve always wanted to see more of the world. You can come with me if you want.’
She pondered the point for a long while. Things had certainly been awkward since she’d observed Diggsy and Pilli that night, and she’d not even had the guts to say anything, or to act upon her knowledge. ‘Buying a place on the edge of the city is hardly going exploring now, is it?’
‘No, but that’s not. .’ He sighed. ‘I’ve just had enough of this, all right. We’ve fulfilled our contracts. It just feels right.’
Jeza moved over to him and for the first time since she had known him she realized he was someone she would miss being around. What was absurd was the fact that she was the one who should have left by now, but where would she go? The culture at Factory 54 was all she had.