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Flir slowed before yet another gate of steel and kicked out with a curse.
It flew into the courtyard beyond, clanging across the stones and showering sparks before it slammed into the far wall. The impact shook tiles free from the roof; they struck the ground and shattered, puffs of dust rising.
“You’re worried, aren’t you?” Pevin asked between breaths when paused behind her.
Flir glanced back. Pevin set the barrel of acor down a moment, then rested one foot upon it to lean on his knee. “I suppose I am,” she said. “It’s hard to let go of the face-to-face part of this battle, I didn’t realise how much I wanted to stop Chelona personally. And to be honest, it’s hard not to be in charge.”
Pevin smiled then. “Is that all?”
“Such as?”
“Kanis for one.”
“Nothing new there,” she said. And he was right but if anyone was going to survive what was coming, it’d be Kanis. He had that kind of annoying luck. She almost smiled.
“Fine. You’re still not sure about Aren, either.”
Flir glanced to the next wall – Argeon suggested a path that circled a bathhouse but she could just as easily smash her way through the next few walls. It’d be quicker, if nothing else. “Actually, I don’t know any more. He’s had plenty of chances to show his hand...” She shrugged. “I think he is going to do the right thing for everyone.”
Pevin chuckled. “Come on, you aren’t going to give me even a little credit for all of that?”
“Fine. You’re very clever. Had enough time to rest?”
Pevin offered a rare grin. “I wasted a lot of it talking, but yes.”
“Good,” Flir said with her own smile. She approached the wall and gave it a good kick too. Stone burst inward. She kicked a few more sections free then leapt over the rubble, which had spilt across clean white tiles, now cracked.
The bathhouse was spacious, with deep baths empty of water. High-backed seats rested within the tanks, and small spouts were spaced at regular intervals, both within the walls of the baths and the backs of the seats. Each seat had been placed some distance from the other... had the Ilesinyans wanted the illusion of privacy in a public bathhouse?
It didn’t matter.
Flir hit the next wall with her shoulder, crashing through the tiles and into a room full of large coppery tanks, for heating the water no doubt. She passed through quickly without examining much. Instead, she stopped at the outer wall and set the acor down.
“This one might take a moment more,” she explained.
Pevin moved back to give her room.
Flir placed both hands against the wall and pushed, trying to get a feel for how solid it would be – and as an outer wall, it wasn’t going to be all that simple. She stepped back then started off with a few kicks. Cracks ran up the wall toward the roof, but when she leant in and struck with the heel of her palm, the wall buckled without threatening the roof.
Thankfully.
She pulled some of the debris aside then climbed the small pile of rubble to keep punching, until evening light cut its way through. Cold air followed and Flir shoved her way free then. “Give it a moment,” she told Pevin.
He did, then passed her acor through before returning for his own.
Flir glanced around the empty buildings that stood amongst lengthening shadows. Here, the streets were equally broad and spacious, lined by iron lamps, these shaped also as flowers; slowly opening petals would have bathed the streets in light had they functioned. Or maybe they did, she wasn’t going to find out.
Were they moving quickly enough?
She’d heard no other explosions, which meant Kanis and Aren hadn’t had their chance yet. “Good luck, boys.”
Pevin joined her. “Look at how tall the doors on the homes and shops are. Where the windows start.”
Significantly higher up than what would have been natural in Anaskar or Renovar. Inside the nearest empty window were rows upon rows of figures, each looking vaguely Ilesinyan but bearing wings. They appeared to be shaped in a variety of poses, and might have once worn clothing and carried tiny weapons... or so it seemed. No, that was what had been true... she knew the same way she knew about other things after eating the Sea God’s eye.
What was not clear, was whether or even how Chelona had had managed to have the figures arranged again, as if the city were one day meant to have children in its streets once more?
Movement caught her attention before she could start off again – slowly, something rose above the peaked rooves... a giant stone structure swinging up as the now setting sun splashed the underside with orange.
A distant rumbling came with the change.
“Hurry,” Flir said as she snatched up the acor and charged along the street, heading for the giant shape – guided by a sense of Argeon’s approval; she was still on the right path.
And then she skidded into a thoroughfare lined with more flower-lamps joined by winged sculptures of black steel, yet it was the massive building dominating the horizon that drew her focus.
Beyond the rooftops of second and third-storey buildings, it was as though the spreading petals of an open flower were drawing up to a close. It loomed large but gave no indication of what was coming... until the street itself began to grind and tilt.
The whole thoroughfare was very slowly beginning to slope down – toward the palace walls, which were not too distant at all. The palace itself was not visible – the walls were curved up and outward, again, not unlike the underside of a flower.
“So, the amber runs down from the other groves?” Pevin asked.
“It seems so,” Flir replied. She knelt then, and slammed her fist into the street. Stone shattered, deep enough to sit the acor within. She tore the lid free and unwrapped the oiled cloth. Inside, a pouch with flint and tinder. Flir removed it then poured some of the acrid powder into the hole, then rested her cask atop. “Yours now,” she said to Pevin.
He handed her his barrel and she moved along the broad street with its extremely regular wagon ruts, then repeated the process. This time, she spilt a little more in an expanding circle around both casks.
Finally, Flir crossed back to the side-street and readied flint and tinder. “Do you still have the stakes?”
“Yes.” Pevin slung the bag from across his chest. Within, half a dozen stakes waited. They’d been treated with something to ensure the fire caught and Flir had to smile. Danillo had certainly done his best not to leave anything to chance. After all, where would they have found dry wood in a formerly sunken city?
Flame soon sparked and Flir gave the burning brand a little more time to catch before handing it to Pevin and setting the second stake to flame.
She took a few steps closer – his eyes were alight, though he was breathing a little hard too.
“You’re actually excited, aren’t you?” she asked, shaking her head.
“A little, I admit – it’s nice to actually do something meaningful.”
“Good point,” Flir replied. “Let me throw for the farthest. Once you release, I want you behind this house.”
“Understood.”
A muted boom drifted to them from somewhere distant. Kanis or Aren? Either way, it was good that at least one of them had succeeded so far.
Flir lifted her arm. “Ready? Go!”
Together, they hurled their brands then dove for the alley between homes.
Explosions rocked the street in twin blasts. Flir hit the ground then rolled, wrapping both hands around her head. Stone crashed across the street but none seemed to fall between the buildings. The home had absorbed most of the blast. Good.
She rose.
Purple smoke drifted into the street, darkened by an orange glow that had little to do with the sunset joining it. Flir moved from the mouth of the alley then, glancing into the thoroughfare – two giant craters rested in the still sloping street. Would it be enough to stop the flow of amber? At the very least, if would slow or reduce the amount significantly.
The stomp of marching feet drew near and Flir spun.
From the far end of the street, lines of Ilesinyans appeared, turning in a reasonably smooth motion, and continuing on without pause.
Far too many to take on, even with Pevin’s help.
“We’re in trouble now, aren’t we, dilar?”