My stomach plunged and I shared a look with Tain. Jov had insisted he must help his little team in the hopes of holding the rebels back with minimal casualties. He had promised us he would stay out of real danger, but who could trust that nothing had gone awry up there? But then Erel smiled up at me. “Credola Kalina, Credo Jovan asked me to tell you he will be at the Finger helping with the retreat there.”
I let my breath out and Tain squeezed my shoulder, sharing the relief.
An-Hadrea accompanied us back to the lower city, saying she would assist any additional Darfri in the caverns who wanted to come to the upper city. I had caught her keen interest in Erel’s message and seen tension drop from her shoulders just as mine had, and wondered.
Jov was on the bridge with Baina, dangling in a harness over the edge to examine their work. I had to blink away tears at the sight of him whole and well, and hugged him hard when he was hoisted up.
“We’ve had no time and not enough supplies to get any real measure of force, Honored Chancellor,” Baina reported. “I can’t say this’ll work.”
“The fortunes have to be with us sometime.” Tain slapped her broad shoulders with false cheer. Jov looked unconvinced. But either way, we needed to get everyone possible out of the lower city and into safety.
“How much time do we have?” Baina asked, arms crossed over her chest and gaze darting about.
Less than we’d expected, as it turned out. Before we could even make it down closer to the breach spot, a messenger from Marco intercepted us to report the wall was showing catastrophic damage, and indeed, by the time we were within view, huge fissures had spread through the base of the stone and extended into the earth beneath the sagging section. We met Marco at the command point. “They can smell victory, Honored Chancellor,” he said, grim. “We need to hold this spot while we get everyone else over the bridge.” Eliska and her engineers marched past with a team of oku pulling the remaining catapult off the road and across the bridge. “We cannot risk people engaging in hand-to-hand combat within the city. Once we are unable to hold the breach, we must have a retreat that gives us time.”
Here, at least, I could help.
When the frantic bell announced at last that the wall had given out and the rebels were at the breach, we had done our best to prepare.
A force of our mismatched troops gathered around the damaged wall, meeting the army at the breach, and scattered around the retreat route more people were poised, waiting; in windows, clinging to the tops of archways, even roofs, and lining the streets. The breach itself was a great, V-shaped tear in the pale stone, bleeding rubble and mortar dust. Chunks of rock spread across the ground like a rough bridge from the hole down to the ground.
Fear, anticipation, and bravado buzzed in the air. Some made coarse jokes, some swore, some cried, but all stood their ground. Even with the roar and pounding of the army at our door, even with the frantic pump of my heart and the icy river of fear-sweat down my spine, I felt a sense of connection with those around me. For the first time, I understood a little of what Tain admired so about the Warrior-Guilder, and the pleasure he had found training in her Guild. There was a camaraderie here that was almost exhilarating; an intoxicating feeling of strength and togetherness in the face of danger, tinged with a lonely reminder of how different I was from the strong and brave.
My brother seized my elbow. “Move, Lini,” he said. “You shouldn’t even be here.” For once, he was right. I was more scared than I could ever remember being.
We had the advantage of position; the breach was still only the width of a few men, and from the wall above shrapnel, sewage, and hot sand and liquids fell in a deadly waterfall. But the sheer force of their numbers was already apparent as Jov and I followed the retreat path. We wouldn’t hold it for long.
Attempts at an orderly retreat had been fruitless. Those not locked in behind comrades broke ranks and fled, then we were all jostled as people panicked and tried to run. I glimpsed over my shoulder the last efforts of our defenders on the walls, trying to buy us time to escape, hurling everything they had left over the edges. Swept along with the retreating forces, I hoped desperately that the rebels would follow us through the city and be caught up in the traps we had laid, or at least that triumph would distract them and temporarily destroy their discipline. If they instead followed the line of the walls and blocked off the stairs on the west side of the lake, our people on the battlements would be stranded without a way down to safety.
The traps were crude and simple. Along the main thoroughfare between the breach and the bridge, our people lay in wait in houses and shops by the roadside, ready to spring. Part of my night had been spent in the temporary new Craft Guildhall sewing sharp things—metal, broken glass and crockery—into fishing nets, which could be thrown out quickly over the road to slow down our pursuers. Over alternative routes to the bridge we had spread oil on the roads and strung wires between buildings and plants, all to delay them and give us more time to get everyone over the bridge safely.
Trickster’s was in sight when all of a sudden I couldn’t get a breath. My slowing pace saw me bumped to the outside of the current, losing my brother in the process. Stumbling against an old archway with great chips of crumbling rock, I leaned on it to stop my head spinning. One side was broken enough to form a kind of stair, and my shaking limbs hauled me up a few steps until I was able to relax my chest and expel the stale air. I craned in both directions, looking for Jovan.
My position gave me a good view of the pursuit down the slope toward the lake. The chasing rebel horde was not the immense force I had imagined; at least some of their soldiers must have been caught in our traps or split in different directions upon entering the city. Two women sprang out from houses on either side of the road and hurled some of my nets across the path. The approaching rebels saw the trap too late and their intimidating roars turned quickly to howls of pain. Glancing back the other way, heart thumping between my chest and the cool stone, I saw Jov at last, just as he saw me. He diverted out of the crowd and I fell against his broad shoulders, grateful and shaking. He helped me stumble-run the last distance, flooding with everyone else over Trickster’s Bridge. Perhaps for the last time.
“Jov! Lini!” Tain saw us from inside the Finger and was already halfway down the stairs to help us by the time we reached its base. “Honor-down, what were you doing there so long? I was tearing my hair out.” His hug was ferocious. We pressed together in the middle level of the Finger, where we could see through the slit windows the nearer side of the great arch.
Although everyone had been instructed to gather in the biggest square in the old city, to regroup, most people had lingered instead on the shores of the lake to see what would happen. A hush lay over the crowd, as if the fear, excitement, and desperation of the morning’s events had snuffed our voices. Beside me, watching the stream of people continuing over the bridge, Jov breathed raggedly, and I felt his muscles contracting frantically: making fists, clenching his jaw, shifting his weight back and forth, over and over. He registered the reactions of those around us: raised eyebrows and a careful lack of eye contact, a gradual backing away. My heart ached for him as his complexion darkened with humiliation. I put a hand on each shoulder, careful to use equal pressure.
In time his muscles stopped their rhythmic spasm and his relieved breath signaled his return to calm. The bulk of us had made it to safety now, but stragglers continued to appear in view, frantic as they pounded the last treads to the safety of the Finger. Probably those who had been involved in laying our delays and traps.