Catua was huddled, hollow eyed, against one wall, near a line of barrels that I knew contained water. Only two days past, I’d been filling one of those…at this moment, my chores seemed alifetime ago.
Tigo’s words turned over in my mind:“Like rats in a barrel…”
“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
I turned my head to see Tigo looking at me. The reticence, theanger, in his eyes were still there, but there was grit, too, now. Determination.
“Maybe,” I said.
And we began to hatch a plan.
—
It was bold. Messy. Obvious, really. But it was all we had. And we’d had to think fast.
We hastened down the steps and out of the tower. As we skirted the curtain wall, approaching the barbican, Llir twirled his sword, adjusting his grip. I had the dagger secured in my belt, and as we crept forward, peering cautiously into the ward, I took a deep breath, flicked my eyes closed briefly.
I’d been keeping my ball of emotions crushed tight, and I checked it now, bringing to mind the crimson pinprick. It had grown a little, streaks of light lurching out of it, but I batted them, squeezed them, until my skull pounded painfully.
“Ready?” Rhianne was glancing between us.
In the ward, guards manhandled Emment and Catua.
“Ready,” Llir said grimly, lifting his blade, and a second later…
All four of us spoke together.
Crack!
My barrels were the first to go.
Crack! Crack!One after the other.
They exploded in fountains of timber and water, bursting on the cobbles, sending splinters soaring high.
Distraction complete, the brazier flared next, a shower of embers streaking upward and outward. Rhianne remained under the barbican, where she could coax them where she wanted them: right toward the guards.
Tigo thundered forward, the earth already shuddering. Iovawn Crake, who’d been striding away from us, now spun just as cobbles cracked beneath his feet.
And Llir had called up a sharp, cold wind, which streaked in past us and made Vercha totter. Arms raised to protect her face, she cowered against the wall, out of harm’s way—for now.
I followed Tigo and Llir into the ward, gripping my dagger, remembering my part in this.
There was no more water—no more words I could speak—but we needed to take down the Crake guards. And quickly.
One man was already aflame, his doublet charring as he threw himself to the ground. Another, a woman, was screaming shrilly, her skin black where her eye had once been.
Terrifyingly, Iovawn Crake was still standing. He’d kept his footing despite Tigo’s efforts. He skirted the jagged rent that had opened in the ground and began to mutter darkly. The earth gave a rumble.
Rhianne had moved into the ward now. Her lips moved unceasingly, and the fire obeyed. A spark hit a guard who was aiming a crossbow, and his shot went wide as he batted at his clothes.
Nearby Llir was tackling a group of three guards, speaking to the wind as he stabbed and thrusted. The gale he’d whipped up was messy, imprecise, but it did a fair job of distracting them, wrong-footing them.
“Over here! Corith!” A voice was calling me. I’d somehow ended up near Emment and Catua. The guards who were clutching them were looking around wildly. Wondering if perhaps they should be fighting instead.
I took advantage of their hesitation and launched my dagger at the nearest one’s head. The throw was poor, but it made him flinch, allowing Emment to snap his wrists up and smash the man’s nose.
At the same time, Catua whirled, throwing her head back, catchingher guard a glancing blow to the chin. Emment, who had pilfered his captor’s short sword, stabbed out with it as best he could with bound hands.
