I step out of Thom’s Tankard, pleased with my purchases, and walk straight into chaos. Citizens race up the roads from the western reaches of Lower Market, pushing and shoving to gain a better position over each other. Some are crying. Yelling. Screaming.
I whip my head toward Lower Market and see the black smudge of smoke on the horizon.
Rachel. Oliver.
All that still matters to me in this world is somewhere down in Lower Market.
The crush of people move in mindless panic. Those who hesitate or turn against the mob are flung to the side or trampled beneath pounding feet.
I dive into the edges of the throng and push against the flow. At first, it’s easy to let the occasional citizen bounce off me, but as I leave South Edge and enter the Market proper, the crowds thicken and my progress slows.
I need another route to Oliver’s. Ducking into the nearest stall, I reach into my boots and pull out my knives. Seconds later, I slip out the back and use them to climb my way to the roof. Drive the blade in, pull myself up, drive the other blade in, pull myself up, and then yank the first blade free so I can do it again.
Once I reach the rooftop, I can see that the smoke is coming from outside the Wall. Which means Oliver and Rachel should be safe inside his tent. He’d never try to move through this mob with Rachel by his side.
A deafening roar splits the air, and the truth hits me, a sickening blow. The Cursed One is out there. On a sanctioned highwayman trading day. Any citizen still outside the gate is as good as dead.
I’ve never known the beast to surface so close to Baalboden, and even though every citizen knows the Commander claims to be able to protect us, I don’t trust him. The creature could enter the city limits at any second, and then Oliver and Rachel could die.
I don’t think. I just move.
I’m running, gathering speed before I even realize what I’m doing. I reach the edge of the roof and leap. Nearly missing the next roof, I crash hard to my knees. The edge of one of my knives nicks my palm and blood flows warmly down my arm. I shove the blades back into their sheaths, push myself up, and start running again.
In the distance, screams mingle with the mindless roar of the beast. I tune them out and take a flying leap onto the side of a tent. The canvas sways precariously, and I snatch the metal pole that braces the corner closest to me. Swinging over the pole, I run and jump, slamming into the side of the next stall.
As I climb onto the roof, I hear hoofbeats pounding behind me and turn to see the Commander thundering down the road, heedless of the panicked people desperately trying to get out of his way. The gate is a mere thirty yards ahead. Oliver’s tent is at least eighty yards to my left. I’m about to make the turn when a flash of brilliant red near the gate catches my eye. I strain to see past the running people, and for one second, I have a clear sight line.
Fear seizes my chest with icy fingers, and my feet move before my brain can finish telling me I’m looking at Rachel. Caught in the crush of panicked, screaming people at the gate. Close enough to the beast that if the Commander is wrong about his control over it, she’ll be one of the first to die.
I hit the roof next to me, skid across it, and leap into the air without pausing for breath.
If Rachel is there, surely Oliver is with her. My heart pounds, a desperate rhythm driving me forward. I nearly fall on the next leap, and slide to the ground. Time to start fighting my way through the crowds.
The beast outside the Wall bellows and the ground shudders, nearly throwing me to my knees. Quiet descends, sharp and unnatural, punctuated only by the sound of sobs and the distant crackling of fire. I skirt two men who stand, cloaks still smoking, shining pink skin blistering along their arms. They’ve just come from outside, and now they stand frozen, looking around as if wondering where the beast will attack next.
I don’t know if it will surface again, but I’m going to be standing in front of Rachel and Oliver if it does.
I see her now. She’s clinging to Oliver, and though her body trembles, she looks fierce and ready for battle. A handful of people pass between us, and when I see her again, she’s staring at the gate with furious eyes. I follow her gaze, and see the Commander stepping over a man’s prone body. He meets Rachel’s eyes, and dread seizes me at the speculative look he gives Oliver.
He knows we love Oliver. If we don’t leave on the Commander’s schedule and bring the package back to him, he’ll sentence Oliver to death for our crimes. My heart aches, sudden and fierce.
Oliver will just have to come with us. I have four days to figure out how. I hurry across the cobblestones as the Commander disappears into Lower Market and gather Rachel and Oliver to me. Oliver claps me on the back, and I see the relief in his eyes that both of his surrogate grandchildren are still alive.
Rachel leans into me, but the tension vibrating through her resonates with me as well. I pull her closer, and watch the flames eat through the remains of the highwaymen’s wagons and gutter into nothing.