Faelan’s head tipped up.
The men with their feet on the stools looked at them; ice froze them in place.
“NOW!” a man screamed from above.
Too late, too late!
Tuft threw a spinning circle that trailed mist, and it tore through both ropes, a clean cut. She reached for her brother as he fell forward, grabbed him around the right arm, and snagged his pants at the hip; she rocked back, only the ice covering her thighs keeping her in place. His full weight crushed her, and she squeaked.
“Fuck you’re heavy,” she whimpered as Tuft skidded onto the far end of the platform. He set the other man down—only then did she realize he had caught the Rams’ leader and carried him over his shoulder. She did her best to ease Faelan to the boards, and the clamps released.
She slid down and Tuft turned his attention to the crowd, creating a curved wall between the platform, wagon, and the rest of the staging ground. Screams rose from the guards near the captives, a good sign. She peeked; the military khentauree used the door as a ram, Yvere was freeing those in the bed, and Brander had snatched a tech weapon and eliminated the enemies with the butt of the firearm. Blood seeped into the earth, smoke rose from limp figures.
She triggered her gauntlet, realized her hands trembled, so she kept the beam short; she did not want to accidentally cut fingers or legs or her brother's bracelet along with the rope.
Faelan first. “I’m cutting the rope,” she said in Fae-speak, and sliced both ties. He tore his blindfold off as she moved to Double Catch, who sat on the platform, trying to nudge his eye covering off with his shoulder.
She removed it for him. “I’m cutting the rope,” she told him, slashing the wrist bindings.
“Who are you?” the synboss asked, rubbing his wrists as she cut his ankles free.
“My sister,” Faelan said. He sounded relieved and upset. “Who shouldn’t be here.”
“Neither should you,” she snapped.
“True,” Double Catch said, as breezily as if he walked on a heat-shrouded beach during midyear. Had the Ram met Carnival? She suspected they would get along marvelously.
“Lanth,” Faelan whispered. She looked up at him, into his over-bright eyes, then slid her arms around his waist and squeezed hard enough to squish his innards out. He returned the favor.
“I’m going to save you,” she promised. “I’m not going to let you end up in a coffin.”
“Lanth.” He tightened his grip, and she could not tell which of them quivered.
He was free. They would flee. And then—
Furious commands rose over the fighting. Faelan hissed; a simple sound, but one filled with consuming hate. She looked up, above the viewing box; a man in a purple coat and furred cloak stood on a balcony, leaning over, jabbing his ringed finger at them, spit flying from his mouth. A crown fell down his forehead, and he shoved it back up. A trickle of red ran down his face.
“That’s Gall?”
“Yeah.”
“Sanna and Chiddle come,” Tuft said. “They meet resistance.”
“Where are they?” Faelan asked, stern, concerned.
“Coming from the dungeon. They will take the walkway to us.”
The ice wall cracked on the side nearest the wagon.
“Was that a cannon?” Double Catch asked as he hopped down from the platform.
“Looks like,” Faelan said, giving her one more hug before following.
Guards littered the ground in lumps. Rams and Brander grabbed their dropped weapons and rifled through their pockets as Yvere cared for those who remained in the wagon. Dov faced the parapet above the platform, the cyan circle in the center of his head whirling. He targeted a group of guards rushing to them, taking out them and the walkway, then swiveled to point his head at the gap he created in the viewing area. Those peeking out squeaked and rushed to hide behind the sagging walls.
“We must destroy the cannons,” Tuft said, touching her arm to grab her attention. “They will break the wall, and I cannot form another. They have little aquatheerdaal left, but enough to damage it and us.”
“How much energy does it take to form a wall like that?”
“Too much, but it is necessary. Do not fear; I have enough to take down cannons.”
“We need to get the portcullis up!” Faelan shouted. He now held Yvere’s larger tech weapon, pointed up, finger on the trigger. Brander raced with him to the gate tower’s heavy wooden door.
Tuft held his hand to Lapis, and she hefted herself onto his back. The ice wrapped around her legs again, and the khentauree jumped to the churned mud near the wagon. Only then did she realize how many of the group still in the bed were injured—and from the look of the untreated wounds, could not flee on foot. They needed to take the vehicle with them—but how? It was not hooked up to a horse or ox.
“We’re getting the cannons!” Lapis called just before Tuft two ice spikes that shot out from the wall. He leapt between them and landed on the parapet. The ice wall covered the walkway, and he formed a half-circle jutting out from the outer edge to bypass the protection.
A jet in the front center of the skyshroud fizzled.
Two guards pounded on the ice with the butts of their firearms, and whirled, gasping, at their unexpected arrival. Lapis triggered her gauntlets and swiped up; they tumbled away to avoid the strike. How nice!
Not so nice; Tuft pivoting and kicking up, sending them over the parapet.
The guards on the ground stopped pounding on the wall as the bodies thumped into the mud, and looked up, in time to see them. Wondrous. Tuft was tall enough, they could see the two of them over the merlons if they stayed close to the inner part of the walkway. They shouted and pointed; the two remaining guards manning the cannons whipped around, and the one in front scurried to the first weapon, grabbing the curved metal handles and heaving to the left to swing the long barrel at them.
The legs that attached the cannon to the swivel base squealed as the muzzle caught on the edge of the merlon. With much shouting, the guard pushed down on the handles so the end could pop over the barrier.
Tuft galloped to him.
The guard cleared the merlon, pointed without sighting, and slammed the side of his fist into the back of the sphere. Lights raced down the barrel, back up, and the mouth flashed; no beam. He struck the back end again; no beam. His buddy behind him waved and yelled, and he ducked; the khentauree jumped the cannon and landed on his back.
Crack.
He went limp as Tuft sprung over the next two cannons and kneed the operator in the face. He fell, screaming, and Lapis had a keen enough imagination to know what he would look like afterwards, if he survived getting smooshed by the skyshroud.
Tech beams raced over their heads; too late, to catch him mid-air.
The operators of the next cluster attempted to swivel the barrels towards them, but they, too, did not clear the merlons, and panic ensued. A common problem, apparently.
The next two clusters did not have operators—yet.
Relief welled, but crashed on the sight of five people climbing a rope ladder behind the second set of cannons; Nolin, Diz—what were they doing there?—two others she did not recognize, and Perben.
Perben. Hate zinged through her, and she lost her surroundings in red-tinged hate.
An ice wall formed across the edge of the parapet, thinner than the one protecting the wagon. Could it stand up to a strike from multiple beams?
“What is wrong?” Tuft asked without buzz, sharp and concerned.
“The people climbing up the ladder. Nolin’s with them. He’s a new rebel, and Diz is, um, Diz. And the curly brown-haired one? That’s Perben.”
“Perben. The rebel traitor.”
She hissed through her teeth as ice coated the muzzles of the cannons near them; how did he know that? “Yes. But he’ll do anything for Faelan, including fight palace guards to get him free.”
“So do not kill him.”
“Not yet, but keep an eye on him. If he thinks taking one of us out will get Faelan to safety, he’ll do it.”
Cyan struck the ice, and head-sized cracks formed from the impact. The khentauree pivoted and leapt over the outer edge.
Lapis shrieked as he sailed down and landed on a ramp—he should have warned her! He galloped, hugged the wall close enough, that the large weapons could not take them out if the operators got the barrels back inside the crenels.
They might use their smaller firearms, though. Handheld tech could easily shoot around the stone corners.
Beams came from behind them, aiming for the cannons. She glanced back; someone covered them from the gate tower’s narrow windows. Faelan? Hopefully the weapon did not run out of power. They had to flee to the second gate, open that, and then run down a treeless slope to get to the noble-centric neighborhoods of Green Castle. The khentauree could not do it all, if, like Tuft suggested, they already ran out of power.
Her insides quivered at the thought. “Tuft, to keep them from shooting the wagon on the way out, we need to get rid of all three clusters.”
“Yes.” His tone held buzz and anger.
A cannon fired, the beam zipping past them, not close enough to do damage. He jumped, soaring over the top of the parapet, and landed on the first cannon, denting it before springing forward and crushing the operator with his front legs. Shouting, the guard manning the second one raised the barrel; the khentauree turned, and she pointed her gauntlet at the enemy, pressing the button on the palm. The fiery purple blade struck his head, and he reared back, blood flying from his face, and crumpled. The two remaining operators pulled their tech weapons. One went down after the sniper hit them, the other fired and missed as he tried to arch away from the third cannon, which rotated in his direction under his buddy’s dead weight.
He turned and fled into Perben’s chest. The traitor snagged him, hefted him up, and threw him over the side.
Whatever.
The people with him reached the cluster as he grabbed the handles on the last cannon, squatted so the barrel cleared the merlon, and swung his weight to the right. It rotated without catching, and he let the barrel drop, aiming at the next cannon group. Nolin scooped up a dropped tech weapon and Lapis waved him on.
“Get them behind that ice wall,” she told him. Diz puffed by, looking worse for wear. “You going to make it, Diz?”
He gave her a rude gesture, which earned him a whap on the back of the head from the woman behind him. He slapped his hand over his nape, gasp-grumbling, but hustled after Nolin with a loping gait. The woman nodded at her as she raced by, her companion checking another tech weapon and wincing.
Brave of them, to align with rebels and a syndicate, rather than melt away with the crowd.
Tuft tore the back end out of the cannon and did something among the mass of wires and thin metal boards. It lit, the exterior lights a glaring green. Perben grabbed the dangling panel and pressed the button.
The beam was as thick as she was. It sliced through the first two machines and they exploded, sending stone and cyan flame high into the air. Smoke hid the other two from sight; Perben gritted his teeth and pressed the button again. The beam struck, but its effectiveness remained obscured.
Shots, both tech and arrows, arched over the parapet.
“Down,” Tuft commanded, setting a hand on the traitor’s shoulder and forcing him to the ground. “Lanth. Turn these bolts.” She slid down and he gave her an icy tool the same hexagonal shape as the bolts attaching the legs to the base. She hissed as the cold bit through her gloves, but did as he asked. He continued to around rummage inside.
“Guards on the parapet,” Perben said.
Lapis freed the final bolt. Tuft grabbed the handles and lifted the entire cannon; the traitor pressed the button, and the beam blazed out.
The khentauree sprayed from right to left, taking out the men, and causing more than one explosion. After two passes, the beam spluttered and extinguished.
“Worthless,” he buzzed, flinging it over the edge.
As if offended by his words, a jet above their heads went out and did not re-ignite.
“That thing’s coming down, isn’t it?” Perben asked as he skirted the other cannons, heading for the gate.
“Yes,” Tuft said, helping Lapis onto his back. She slid her arms around his waist as the ice clamped over her thighs. Before the traitor fell to a full run, Tuft grabbed the back of his coat and shirt, hefted him over the outer wall, and ran on his icy ramp. The man thrust his fingers under the shirt’s collar and gacked.
Cra-boom.
The khentauree rocked into the wall and buzzed something that sounded nasty. Perben coughed and wheezed as he pulled the shirt from his neck.
Smoke rose from the outer wall several wagon lengths downhill; one cannon balanced on the edge of a crumbling hole, flaming debris at the bottom. Lapis caught her breath. Her uncle’s Swift! It pelted the wall with strong, short beams, then rose as the guards returned fire from more distant clusters.
Tuft continued using the ramp, catching the other four as they slid around the now-melting ice wall near the gate. Melting? Lapis looked down the length of it; no frost coated the surface, but slick water. Wonderful. The jets worked against them. Even without the cannons, she bet the palace guards would break through.
Crackling from behind; Tuft dissolved everything behind them, making certain the guards could not use the same method to bypass the ice walls.
The gate tower door opened, and Faelan hissed, waving them inside. The khentauree dropped Perben and leaned over as he rolled, hand to throat, coughing, tears rolling down the sides of his face.
“If you harm any human with us, Sanna will make you pay. You do not want to owe Sanna anything.”
Lapis briefly met her brother’s skeptical gaze; interesting, he thought Sanna was the scariest khentauree. Tuft stepped over him, then bounded to the staging ground using the dripping ice spikes.
