Angel of Storms (Millennium's Rule, #2)(3)

“Give that back!” Betzi demanded as he gathered up the scarf. As she made a grab for it Rielle caught her waistband.

“Let him have it,” Rielle advised. “You can make another from my pillow,” she added as the other soldiers moved close.

Betzi ignored her. “Captain Kolz will not be happy when he learns–ow, Rel!” Yet she didn’t fight as Rielle pulled her backwards. The short man had let her go in order to inspect the scarf, and to Rielle’s relief Betzi took the opportunity to reverse their path. Her expression shifted from defiant and angry to fearful as she faced Rielle. Then her eyes widened and they were both jolted to a halt. Rielle looked beyond to see that the man’s hand was still wrapped around the string secured to Betzi’s waistband.

And the other soldiers were striding forward to surround them.

“Rielle!” Betzi gasped as she tried to slap away the short man’s hands. “This is one of those times!”

Rielle’s stomach turned over. Betzi was right. If the threat of being reported to the captain didn’t worry them, then either Kolz was dead and the men answered to someone more powerful, or they intended to ensure no report could ever be made.

“Angels forgive me,” she whispered. Hooking an arm around Betzi’s, she turned to face the closest of the two men now reaching for her. Drawing a little magic, she grabbed his hand and thought heat!, hoping that she could still remember the trick her friend had taught her.

He recoiled, yelping in pain. As she turned to the second man a curse came from behind her. Betzi suddenly dragged Rielle forward, towards where the men had originally been standing. Trusting her friend knew what she was doing, Rielle twisted around and ran with her.

No footsteps followed behind them. As they reached the end of the street Rielle turned to see the trio standing together, glowering. Her senses caught two glimmers of Stain, the darkness where she or Betzi had removed magic from the world.

Magic that belonged to the Angels. Rielle shivered. Here, in Schpeta, it was believed that the Angels did not mind if magic was used in circumstances of extremity, to defend one’s life. The Angel she had met at the Mountain Temple had said as much to Rielle, before sending her across the world to begin a new life: “I give you permission to, if your life is in danger and you have no other choice.”

The words had echoed in her mind many times since the siege had started.

We can’t be certain they intended to kill us, Rielle worried. But I’m not going to wait until the moment a blade slices my throat to be sure. Too many other women had been found abused and dead on the streets of Doum for her to take the chance. Besides, if the Angels are as unforgiving as the priests of my homeland believe, my soul is already doomed. I’m not exactly in a hurry to find out who is right.

They emerged into the wider road that separated the town’s houses from its wall. The younger girl paused, arm still linked with Rielle’s, and steered them towards a stone staircase leading up to the battlements. The remaining soldiers of the king’s army fit enough to fight either stood along the top of the wall or rested below playing games, talking and attending to weapons, armour or injuries. Their ranks had thinned since Rielle had last come here, and nearly all wore some kind of bandage.

They look tired, she observed. Frightened. Angry. Or all three.

Betzi stopped abruptly. “There he is,” she said in a hushed tone. “Captain Kolz!”

Following Betzi’s gaze, Rielle saw a tired-looking young man leaning on the crenulated rail of a tower further along the city wall. Her friend pulled Rielle into a near-run, hurrying to meet her lover. Something in her hand whipped back and forth. Rielle laughed as she saw it was the scarf: Betzi had rescued it as well as herself.

The captain glanced down at the street and Rielle was not surprised that his attention moved to them, standing out because they were the only people moving with any energy. The smile that lit his face made her heart lift, then sink a little. It was possible the attraction between him and Betzi would not last once the present grim circumstances ended–even if they survived them–but she could not help feeling sure that she would eventually lose her only friend to him.

Betzi let go of Rielle’s arm and dashed into the tower, nimbly climbing the stairs within. Following more sedately, by the time Rielle reached the top she found her friend and the captain completely absorbed in each other, with several amused soldiers pretending not to notice. The scarf was around his neck already, she noted.

“… said you were dead! I did not believe them,” Betzi said. She grinned as Rielle joined them. “We—”

Her words were drowned out by a loud horn blast, which was repeated up and down the wall. Answering peals came from outside the city, followed by a sound she had only heard during festivals–the roar of many, many people shouting. The captain’s smile vanished and he and the other fighters hurried to the outer edge of the wall to peer carefully through the gaps of the crenulations.

“They’re attacking.” He looked back at them. “Go home.”

But Betzi drew closer, keeping away from the openings. Rielle followed suit.

“I am safer here than on the streets during the fighting,” Betzi told him, her voice uncharacteristically serious.

Kolz considered this quickly. “Then go below, into the tower, and stay there until I can escort you home.”

She nodded, then beckoned to Rielle and hurried to the stairs. As they began to descend, a whistling in the air not far above made them duck. They dove into the stairwell, then stopped to look up. Several dark lines flashed overhead. Cries came from the street below, muffled by the tower walls.