The Autumn Republic

Chapter 43

Taniel and Vlora each rode three horses to collapsing as they followed the Brudanian Privileged up the Counter’s Road and east toward Adopest.

They ate up the miles, and Taniel knew they must be gaining on their quarry as they drew closer and closer to the city. His body shuddered from exhaustion, while his mind was a chaotic knot of fear, anger, and hope. There were not many miles left, and if Adopest was in the hands of the Brudanians as Vlora had said, they needed to catch up to Ka-poel and her captors before they entered the city.

They continued on, no words between them, until they rode over a hill and saw Adopest resting on the tip of the Adsea in the distance. Taniel’s mind buzzed from a powder trance, his body sagging beneath days without sleep.

They had had to leave Gavril and Norrine behind. Gavril had gone south to try to warn Tamas about the Brudanian trickery, while Norrine had stayed with their couple of wounded to oversee the Brudanian prisoners. Taniel had not wanted to abandon her, but he knew that he and Vlora would travel the fastest alone.

“There,” Vlora said.

Taniel shook his head to clear his vision and focused on a party just outside the city limits. There were nine riders, and even at a distance he could tell by the overcoat, hat, and small frame that one was Ka-poel. They left a dust cloud behind them as they hurried for the anonymous streets of the city, and Taniel’s hopes of catching them before they reached the city walls were dashed.

He did not reply to Vlora, but leaned over the neck of his horse, urging it forward.

They reached the edge of High Talien on Adopest’s west side less than an hour later. Taniel could feel panic rising in his chest as the midmorning crowds closed in around him, his horse foaming at the mouth, sides shuddering. The Brudanians were gone, and along with them the chances of getting Ka-poel back.

“Taniel.” He heard Vlora’s voice as if far in the distance. “Taniel, we won’t find them now.”

He whirled on her. “I will. I will find them, the bastards. If I have to kill every Brudanian I cross, I will get Ka-poel back.”

“Well, you’re going to have a good start of it.”

Taniel’s mouth opened but he could find no reply. People were staring at them and their near-dead horses. He followed Vlora’s gaze off to his left. Brudanian soldiers flooded onto the street ahead of them, shouting and pointing.

“Leave the horses,” Taniel said, sliding from his saddle. He untied his saddlebags and threw them over his shoulder, taking his pistols and rifle, while Vlora did the same.

They slipped down a nearby alleyway, abandoning their horses and moving over to the next street. Taniel could see the soldiers flanking them, moving to keep up and spreading out up ahead. He put one hand on his pistol, ready to draw.

“We shouldn’t have a running fight here,” Vlora warned. “Too many people.”

“To the pit with the people. I’ll take first blood if they come any closer.” Taniel knew they had to get out of there. Vlora was right. A fight in the middle of the city would just attract more attention and draw in more soldiers. There’d be no backup. Adopest was now hostile territory. If the soldiers goaded them into a fight, they would no doubt bring in a Privileged sooner rather than later.

Taniel had fought a Privileged in Adopest before. It was less than pleasant.

“You recognize this part of town?” Vlora said.

“We’re near Hrusch Avenue, aren’t we?”

“It’s our old haunt.”

“I didn’t spend a lot of time in the streets,” Taniel said.

“I did,” Vlora answered. “And under them. There’s an old bathhouse up ahead. We might be able to slip into the storm drains.”

They crossed two more streets, watching warily as the soldiers continued to flank them while keeping their distance.

“What are they waiting for?” Vlora asked.

Taniel had just been wondering the same thing. They had the numbers. Even if Vlora detonated all of their powder – and she wouldn’t, not with all the people around – she might miss a few and they would close in with bayonets and swords, or worse – some of them might have air rifles.

The old bathhouse was a ruin of a three-story building at the end of the street. The doors and windows were boarded up, with signs telling the local children it was a dangerous place to play. Taniel spotted a Brudanian uniform up ahead of them.

“They’ve gotten in front of us,” he growled.

“Not only that.” Vlora’s face had gone pale. She didn’t have to finish her sentence. Taniel could sense the Privileged moving in on their position, one behind and one ahead of them. That was what the soldiers were waiting for. How the pit had they gotten two Privileged here so quickly? Either he and Vlora had been insanely unlucky, or the Brudanian commander had counted on needing reinforcements when Ka-poel’s kidnappers returned.

“Quickly!” he said.

They headed around to an alley running behind the bathhouse. Taniel thrust his bayonet beneath the board barring the back door and wrenched it away.

There was a crack of a musket and Taniel flinched away from where a bullet struck the wall beside him. He ripped off another board as Vlora squeezed off a shot, dropping the soldier at the head of the alley. Taniel slammed his shoulder against the locked door, bursting it in two heavy hits, and they rushed inside.

“The Privileged are getting close,” Vlora said.

“I know! Where’s the damned storm drain?”

“In the basement. Down the hall. Go, go!”

Taniel sprinted down the dark, damp hall of the bathhouse and past the shadowed, sludge-filled baths. A voice called out behind them in accented Adran.

“Adran soldiers, surrender now!”

Taniel slowed, pushing Vlora on ahead of him, and brought up his rifle. He waited in the darkness of a doorway for a soldier to put his head into the back door of the bathhouse.

His bullet took the man between the eyes. There was shouting, and Taniel felt the pressure of sorcery being pulled into this world. He sprinted after Vlora, following her down the steps and into the blackness of the basement. An extra snort of powder gave him clarity in the depths. He found Vlora in the farthest room from the stairs. She had pried the grate away from the storm drain and tossed her own saddlebags down the hole.

Taniel could hear footsteps pounding along the floor above them. “Why haven’t the Privileged attacked yet?” he demanded.

“Quiet!” she said. “Go, now!” He sensed her reach out toward the soldiers’ powder, detonating a few choice charges to sow confusion. The sound of the explosions echoed through the building.

Taniel climbed into the storm drain, his hands slipping on the rusted ladder bolted to the walls of the drain. He lowered himself down until his feet touched water and then let himself drop the last foot to the drain floor.

“Come on!” he called back up to Vlora.

Vlora stood above the storm drain, her head tilted as if listening for something. “Wait,” she said quietly. “There’s something…”

Her words were cut off by a sudden trembling. Taniel threw his hand above his head, his heart leaping into his throat as he heard the foundation of the building give a deafening crack. There was a strangled scream above him. He choked on dust, wiping water from his face.

“Quick!” he yelled.

His voice no longer echoed. Peering up through the gloom, he saw nothing but stone above him.

The building had collapsed on Vlora.