Shield and Crocus (26 page)

Sapphire tore down the streets, each bound the size of three Ikanollo paces. Dr. Acci was miles away, and Blurred Fists was losing blood fast.
He doesn’t have much time
, Sapphire admitted, her heart aching with her friend’s pain.

Blurred Fists had collapsed from the shock.
It’ll be a miracle if he’s still alive when we reach the doctor.

Sapphire and Aegis stopped in an alley where Sapphire tore the leg off her raiment to make a tourniquet. It would only do so much good with the artery bleeding out at Pronai speed.

Aegis looked up to Sapphire, tears welling in his eyes. “Take him and run as fast as you can. I’ll try to keep up. Don’t stop for anyone or anything. Just get him to Dr. Acci.”

Sapphire nodded and took Blurred Fists up in her arms again. Head down, she kicked off sprinting down the street.

The streets were nearly empty, a local curfew keeping people in their homes. The street-lamps rushed by on both sides, shadows moving from every direction, but Sapphire didn’t stop. She was throwing his life and hers into the air, there could be patrols around any corner between here and hook’s hole. Ghost Hands or Sabreslate might be able to move faster, but they’d have to soar through the open sky and be even more exposed to COBALT-3’s flying automata sentries or Yema’s Bull Mosquitos. And going through the ground with Sabreslate was out, due to the strain it put on the body.

Which means it comes down to me.
The tourniquet seeped onto her raiment, all the jostling and motion exacerbating his condition.

He wouldn’t make it all the way to Acci’s.
Is there somewhere closer, a hospital or clinic?
She wracked her brain as she ran, trying to jog her memory by looking at the store signs and street posts. The nearest hospital not run wholly by COBALT-3 was fifty blocks east, and even their local security was in COBALT-3’s pocket. The free clinic on 111
^th
and Heart Meridian closed down two months ago when Dr. Ustin was arrested for practicing without “official sanction,” having refused to pay the bribes.

Nothing.
She kept running; saw a gang down the block huddled under a lamp with a broken glass case. She dashed right by them and hoped they don’t pursue. Even if they did, they’d meet Aegis first, and City Mother protect them if that happened.

The tourniquet had soaked through already, and Blurred Fists’ body was getting rigid.
Not enough time, there just isn’t enough time. If it were anyone else, maybe.
But now the fastest Pronai the city has ever seen was dying just as quickly.

Sapphire stopped, planted both feet in the cobblestone street, and filled her lungs. “I need a doctor! The Shields of Audec-Hal need your help! Can anyone hear me, I need a doctor!”

Windows were closed, doors shut, and the only reaction she got was an odd stare from a homeless man pushing a cart filled with mottled bags.

She started running again, continuing her call. “Doctor, I need a doctor! Help, anyone!” every block, she shouted again, desperation giving way to futile obstinacy as Blurred Fists’ life slipped away.

Three blocks later, she felt the echo in her heart that came from his closeness vanish. The sinking feeling in her gut that she had been sharing disappeared, leaving a gaping emptiness.
Please, no.

Wenlizerachi was gone, his life given for the dream of a free city he’d never known and would never get to see.

Aegis caught up with her, tears in his eyes. Just as she felt him with her birthright, he could see the Pronai with his own, watch Blurred Fists’ threads cut. Aegis put an arm on her shoulder and embraced the lifeless form of their friend.

Years of memories washed over her in an icy wave of loss. She remembered meeting a young Wenlizerachi as she helped run errands for his mother Zeraneyachi. She remembered when Zeraneyachi had died and her son took up the mantle. She remembered hundreds of battles and meetings and his ready smile and easy laugh. All of it gone in an instant.

Sapphire dropped to the cobblestones, Aegis with her. For a minute, they were a shrunken island of grief in the gargantuan city. Between choked-back tears, Aegis said, “we need to get off of the street. Before the guards come.”

Six Shields had gone out that night, but only five would see the dawn.

Wonlar chewed up the floor at Douk’s, strides too long for his still-tender leg as his cane clicked on the ground, but he didn’t stop, pushing through on anger and grief. He walked as if maybe he paced fast enough, Wenlizerachi wouldn’t be dead.

He wouldn’t have another life on his conscience, another friend to bury, another victim in the war that’d swallowed Wonlar’s whole life for so long he barely remembered what it was like to just be a person.

The only two lights on in the basement were the lamps hung at head-level either side of the stairway door. First Sentinel pulled the shadows along with him, silhouettes pacing the room just ahead and behind. They matched his worry, but he didn’t care for their company.

I should be sleeping, resting my wounds and making sure I’m functional in the morning.
he tried several times, lying down on the cot which was almost his death bed and had been a prison for longer than he usually spent making a new piece of armor.

The sounds of creaking wood told him that he was not alone. The low pitch of the creaks told him it was Rova.
Either that or I’m in for a fight.

Rova’s knock settled the uncertainty. A blue hand pushed back the door. She was dressed in a plain grey tunic and leggings. Night clothes from the look of them, the rumple, and the wearing of the thread.

“I heard you tromping around down here. Why are you still awake?”

Wonlar raised an eyebrow. He didn’t think that Freithin empathy would pull her out of bed by the force of his worry.

She continued. “This close, I can’t help but feel it.”

“Sorry.”
I can’t get anything right today. Maybe this is it: I’ve finally lost my edge. The time’s come to put away the raiment or pass it on to someone else. Hell of a time for it.

Wonlar shook his head, and then looked up to Rova. She was strong as ever, but tired, the fatigue gaining ground at the corner of her eyes.
We can’t keep going like this. I’m still thinking too small.

They were tired, beaten, and bereaved, and the tyrants were on the verge of consolidating. He needed the others to step up, more than they already had. They had to carry him, now.

First Sentinel stood up straight, pushing into the ground with his cane.
That’s it.

“We might never get another moment to strike. Nevri’s dead, Dlella hasn’t fully settled in, and their forces will be out of position. Rova, at tomorrow’s meeting, I want to hear ideas about how to pull forces from the temple tower.” a thin thread of white hope sprang from her chest, tentative, like a mouse peeking its nose out into the room checking for danger.

“The tower? That again?” it all came back to the City Mother, captive soul of the city.

Wonlar returned to pacing, his mind turning. “Yes. The six … five of us can’t change the fate of a whole city by ourselves. I’ve been trying to win the war by skirmishing for fifty years, step by step, and it costs every step of the way. We owe it to Wenlizerachi and the others to bring this to an end.”

Rova took a seat on a packed crate of coffee beans, one of the only things in the basement stable enough to support her.

“To win, we need the people on our side, and that means breaking the hold on the City Mother.” Wonlar stopped beside Rova, put a hand to her knee. “Go back to bed; I need you rested and ready.”

She placed a hand over his and gave a gentle squeeze. Wonlar slid to the side and made room for Rova to hop off the crate and work her way to the stairs.

The aging Shield paced a bit longer before settling down to sleep, stirring the soup of thoughts before letting his mind simmer overnight. Planning kept the ghosts at bay, ensuring the voices in his mind offered suggestions instead of tearing him apart with guilt.

At my age, there are enough ghosts in my mind that I need them helping me almost as much as I need Selweh by my side.

* * *

Finally, morning came.
Dounmo
tea in hand, Wonlar greeted the sun as it spilled its light down the cliff’s edge and into the city. The smell of darkside mint mixed with baking dough, and Wonlar soaked up the moment.

This was the calm before the end, with all the clarity that brought with it. No matter how long and hard the night, the dawn would always come to wash away the darkness.

Selweh joined him in watching the sunrise. They talked as father and son, talked about the people passing by, how Selweh missed their old apartment, where he had gathered the neighborhood children to play Shields and tyrants in the street and then they’d all eat Douk’s sweets afterwards. They talked about everything but Wenlizerachi, but everything ended up being about him anyways.
He wants to claim the guilt because it was his mission, but I could have stopped her. I was right there.

The Shields took the back room after Xera finished the breads. They made war plans over fresh bread and jams. Sweet smells and sumptuous tastes balanced the grim severity of their mission. But even the tyrants couldn’t sour the taste of a piping hot loaf.

“I want to reopen discussion of taking the tower,” Wonlar said to start the meeting. He saw no need to talk about what happened last night. He knew they’d fight over the blame, tear at one another and get themselves knotted up in their threads.

Sarii rolled her eyes, and her stone plaything took the form of a bored cat, pacing in a circle and laying down. “We’re not in a position to take the tower, especially not after last night.”

We have to grieve on our own time, Sarii.
“no, this is exactly the time. The tyrants are cracking down, but the summit shows how desperate they are. With Nevri dead and the Rebirth engine gone, two of the five tyrants have been shaken, even with Dlella as executor. They all have their honor guards with them at the summit. That means the tower must be relatively unprotected. And if we occupy the forces that are left elsewhere, the force at the tower will be able to finish the task and turn the tide.”

“What target is big enough to pull all of the forces from the tower?” Selweh asked.

Wonlar shook his head. “Two targets.”

“How are we going to cover three missions with five Shields?” Rova asked. “We’d have to send one person each to the distractions, and that only leaves three of us for the tower.”

Wonlar shook his head. “I’m going alone. Two for each distraction strike. We’ll need at least that many to draw their reinforcements. I want to hear suggestions for targets.” he left no room for disagreement, tried to stare down Sarii as she moved to object. He felt the gold bands binding each of them to his heart tug as he tried to drag them along with his idea. “We have to do this, now. It’s our only chance.”

Aegis set down his mug of tea. “That’s idiotic. You need as many people on the tower as you can. Let us make the distractions first, then regroup and go for the tower.” First Sentinel flinched at the “idiotic,” his nostrils flaring. He tried to calm himself, thinking,
He doesn’t want to lose me, and I can’t blame him. I may not be that lucky again.

Sabreslate’s stone became a miniature First Sentinel, pin-cushioned with bolts and arrows and blades. “You’re talking about a suicide run. What’s that going to get us?”

Wonlar ignored the question. “Where could two of us with Shield-bearer backup cause enough trouble to draw forces from the tower?”

Rova knocked on the table, inspiration striking. “The mint in Heartstown.”

Wonlar cocked his head, considering. “It’s close, and important enough to be a real target. We’ll need explosives, and we’d have to form a perimeter so we could maintain the position, which will take either Ghost Hands or Sabreslate. And then we’ll need someone to hold the line, Sapphire, or Aegis, or me. We couldn’t do it with just one.” no one argued. “We can use the explosives I’ve got stocked in lower Ribs. But that’s the last of it.”

Sarii huffed. “This isn’t what we need to be doing right now.”

Selweh said, “we can’t do anything less. As long as the tyrants have control of the City Mother, nothing we do will be able to stir the people to revolution. The mob at the bank was motivated by greed more than anything, and they broke under pressure too quickly. But we did get some money, and Aegis destroyed much of the metal reserves. They’ll need to mint new bills soon.”

“And if we destroy the mint…,” Aegis said.

Sarii crossed her arms and her stone shifted back into the cat, which made another circle in place before settling down again. “Just wait until this explodes in your face and none of us are here to save you.”

She’s in.

“It’s too soon for you to go out alone,” Selweh said.
Now who’s the overprotective father?

Wonlar smiled, try to show confidence. Selweh was probably right. But who else could free the City Mother? “I’ve fought through worse. And no one knows the layout of the tower like I do; none of the rest of you have been in the City Mother’s presence before—i have the best chance of getting through to her. I can move faster by myself, get to the top in time for you all to make your escape. And if we free the City Mother, everything changes. With her power supporting the citizens instead of being made to suppress them, we can start riots like the bank every week, build guerilla armies inside the city, and finally turn the tide.”

Wonlar waited a beat for their answers. Rova perked up, almost ready to say something, then stopped. Sarii leaned back to play with her stone, head inclined towards Bira. Doubtless they were talking mind-to-mind. Aegis looked to Wonlar, his eyes racing.
City Mother, give us the wisdom to choose the right path.

Bira broke the silence without making a sound. [
The other target should form a rough equilateral triangle with the mint and the tower. What is in that area
?]

Wonlar pulled a roll from the seat beside him and spread out a crinkled and faded lambskin map from the Republic era, written over in charcoal and ink.
If the tyrants took the time to communicate, they could guess our game. But even if they didn’t, they’re not going to just let us get away with these strikes.

Wonlar looked at the map and extrapolated the triangle in his mind.
Headtown
. Headtown was the site of luxurious homes owned by the richest collaborators, extensive parks with immaculately-kept shrubbery and countless office buildings sculpted by the finest Jalvai architects on the payroll of the tyrants.

“Hit any of the big office buildings and they’ll come running,” Selweh said, then shakes his head. “But we can do better.”
Keep thinking out loud. We need to make five minds into one.
Bira used to link their minds at meetings, but it hadn’t been worth the effort to sort out the jumble and the stray inklings from the conscious thoughts.

Wonlar nodded. “We can. The Headtown barracks is too hot for anything but a hit-and-run strike, but that will draw emergency units, not guards. Hostage situation?” he asked.

Bira considered his question. “Protracted, guaranteed to draw interested parties. We’d have to time it just right, though, since when they get enough backup they’ll go straight for the kill.”

Wonlar stood, and then returned to his roll of maps. “Good. Let’s look at the floor plans from Naako and we’ll pick the best target. If possible, I’d like to have you give our regards to Dr. Herron.”

Naako had designed half of the newer houses in Headtown and grown rich off of it. A few years ago, after her cousin was disappeared by Nevri’s goons, she had a change of heart. Douk got wind of her efforts to contact the Shields and arranged a meeting. She’d pledged an impressive amount of money and even better, her records. Wonlar had floor plans of every house she built, secret passageways and all.

“You’ll keep out of the line of fire, several rooms inside, with one Shield holding the hostages, the other keeping an eye on the perimeter.”
Now, for the assignments.

“Aegis, I want you and Sabreslate to take the hostages. Sabreslate, you’ll be able to modify the house to help keep yourselves secure, and Aegis will watch the perimeter, make the demands. We’ll need to bring in some Shieldbearers for extra hands.”

Wonlar turned to Rova and Bira. “That puts you two at the mint. I’ll provide the explosives. Get in and blow the door behind you, it’ll slow them down. Then get into the mint and be sure you locate the plates. Even if I fail, I want at least one mission to succeed.”

Selweh nodded. He was as good a son and soldier as anyone could ask for. Maybe one day, he’d have the chance to just be a good man. Have children of his own. Wonlar saw the jade thread that hung from Rova’s heart and draped across the floor toward Aegis, obscured by his tightly-woven threads in gold and bronze.
And maybe they can even do something about that.

“We’ll strike tomorrow, before they can get too far done with the summit. Word has it they’re still quibbling over some tariff rates. Until their security forces get integrated, they’ll fight each other for the honor of killing us.”

Wonlar saw the nods of assent and the chiseled disapproval on Sabreslate’s face. She’ll do her part, she always has. Chip away the blocks of cynicism and antagonism and there was a patriot inside that woman. The rest was just armor to protect the artist’s heart.

Wonlar took a deep breath and his eyes slid to a blanket in the corner, draped over a motionless form.

“Now it’s time to pay our respects.”

* * *

The Shields took the rest of the day dodging patrols and working around border guards to reach the stake purchased by the first Aegis at the edge of hook’s hole.

As soon as they passed the first switch-back, the Shields stopped and unrolled the bundle they’d snuck through the city. Sabreslate went to the wall and rolled out a large boulder, shaping it into a coffin, with patterns of the Pronai’s Great wheel and a perfect likeness of Wenlizerachi in his Shield’s raiment.

When she was done, Rova and Selweh picked up the stone coffin, and Wonlar led the way with a lantern. They had never bothered to leave any lights in the hall, each time hoping they’d never have to go back to fill another berth.