But then again, that explosion had been really loud...
They rushed faster, and Tarlak saw smoke billowing near the castle.
“Makes no sense,” he muttered. “Why attack the castle?”
“Not the castle,” Brug said, and that’s when Tarlak realized what they’d done. Stepping out to the wide space before the castle, where Victor had held his interrogations, he found the area filled with rubble and dirt. Several guards lay about, all dead. The west side of the city’s prison had blown open, and Tarlak recognized a magical explosion when he saw one.
What could be more symbolic than freeing all captive members of their guilds from a prison?
Too much time had passed between the explosion and their arrival. Whatever combat had taken place was long over. Men in tattered clothes flooded out, with a few armed and dressed in the colors of the Hawk Guild amid their ranks, revealing the guild responsible.
“With the guard scattered across the city, too few must have been here to stop them,” Brug said, clearly nervous at seeing so many.
Tarlak nodded in agreement. He lifted his hands, let fire surround them.
“Stop as many as possible,” he said.
“Will do.”
Brug charged ahead, trusting his platemail to keep him safe. The prisoners and Hawks were fleeing west, away from their road. Knowing he needed to slow them to have a chance, Tarlak hurled a ball of fire over their heads, detonating it in the road beyond. It set fire to the street, as well as a nearby home. Tarlak winced, but figured one more blaze wouldn’t hurt the city too badly. He hoped. Their route cut off, the prisoners veered various directions, many having to turn about and retrace their steps to find another road. Tarlak clapped his hands, and a bolt of thunder struck in their center, killing two. More important was the confusion the light and sound made, giving Brug his chance to reach them.
He barreled through their numbers, head low, helmet leading. He punched and kicked with wild abandon. Tarlak knew his friend was not the best of fighters, but what he lacked in skill he made up for in eagerness and stupidity. He didn’t try to block attacks, nor avoid blows, just let them hit his armor and slide off. Blood soon covered his punch daggers. The escaped prisoners fled, but the Hawks among them converged, daggers and shortswords ready.
“Keep ‘em busy,” Tarlak said, hurling bolts of ice from his palms. They slammed into the thinning crowd, bowling over men and women and then freezing them to the ground. A glance behind saw a squad of soldiers rushing their way. Tarlak grinned, glad for the help. Brug wouldn’t last much longer. With a few well-placed spells, he flung small stones at blinding speeds, striking the Hawks that surrounded him and knocking them unconscious, or dead.
Then the soldiers were rushing past, the symbol on their tunics that of the Kane family. It seemed they were smart enough to realize who was friend and who was foe. Ignoring him and Brug, they spread out to chase down the thieves. Tarlak ended his casting, watched as the soldiers pulled two thieves off of Brug, who, other than a multitude of bruises, was no worse for wear.
One of the men gathered a group of five and then passed by, abandoning the chase, and Tarlak recognized his face well.
“Victor?” he asked.
Victor turned, hand on his sword, until he realized who it was.
“The people here are in your debt,” Victor said, saluting quickly before hurrying on.
“Wait,” Tarlak said, falling in step. “What’s going on? You need to help us find the escaped...”
“Alyssa Gemcroft’s mansion is on fire,” Victor said over his shoulder.
“What?”
“Riot broke out, completely surrounded their estate. I went for the castle first, for the king and his guard are of more importance. Time is not on our side, wizard, and unless you have a spell to turn it backward, this night will not end well. It’s the thief war all over again. Gods damn it, I should have returned years earlier.”
Tarlak glanced back, saw Brug hurrying to catch up. Sighing, the wizard began casting a spell.
“If you want to get there now, then come with me,” he said as a portal ripped open before him. Without waiting for their answer, he stepped through, to see the chaos that had overtaken the Gemcroft mansion.
15
Zusa watched from the window of their second story room as the crowd gathered about their gates. Alyssa stood beside her, a cold expression on her face.
“Do they blame me for this?” she asked. “Have they not forgiven me for the chaos my mercenaries caused?”
“People have long memories when they are suffering,” Zusa said, scanning the crowd. She could not hear their individual cries, but she spotted those most vehement and shouting the loudest. A few wore guild colors, all the same.