The Final Storm

19. To Rescue a Damsel

Instinctively, I closed my eyes and held my breath.

"Open your eyes, you foolish woman!"

Instantly, I wrenched them open again—and there he stood, scraped and dirty, but already halfway up the stairs of the city wall. And, more importantly, with a rope that he had somehow gotten his hands on clutched firmly in his grip.

"Catch!"

My hands moved on instinct as one end of the rope flew towards me. The rough hemp burned against my fingers, but I ignored the feeling, knowing it was just the start.

"Hold tight!"

Then he pulled.

Pain. Pain as sharp as a red-hot knife stabbed into my hands. Yet I didn't even think of letting go. A moment later, I found myself airborne, my arms ablaze with agony. Gritting my teeth, I clung on desperately. Any moment now, it would be over. Any moment now! Any moment n—

A familiar, rock-hard hand closed around my wrist and finally ended the pain. A moment later, I found myself being pulled up onto the stone stairs of the city wall, far above the mass of armed men roiling beneath us. Just then, I saw someone stumble and immediately disappear beneath the swarms of people. A scream rose into the sky—then was immediately silenced.

A shudder travelled down my back. If we'd been just a little slower, that might have been me.

"Are you all right?" Pulling me into his arms, my husband held me tightly, and I was more than happy to let him.

Without hesitation, I hugged him back fiercely, not giving a crap about the two humongous beards that were getting in the way. "J-just barely."

"Adequate."

Pressing my face into his chest, I indulged in the feeling. Solid. Unmovable. Mine. "Let's not do that again, shall we?"

"Agreed."

There was a pause, during which we simply luxuriated in the fact that we were alive and together. It lasted only for a moment, though, before reality came flooding back.

"We...we have to move." Forcing myself to slip out of his embrace, I looked up at him, my meaning clear in my eyes. With a curt nod, he rose to his feet.

"Yes. We have to find the others." A hand appeared in front of me. "Come."

Taking the proffered hand, I let myself be pulled to my feet and followed Mr Ambrose into the shadowy archway that was the entrance to the nearest watch tower. In the gloomy interior, I could only just make out a spiral staircase that led upwards.

"What are we doing here?" I whispered. Not the raucous crowd below bothered to pay any attention to us. "Hiding?"

"Not just that." He pointed up at where, through an arched window, a beam of light fell inside and cut the darkness of the tower in two. "If we want to have any chance of finding Adaira and Karim in this chaos, we need an adequate vantage point. Let's go!"

And he took off, racing up the stairs three steps at a time—which was a little bit problematic, since he was still holding my hand, and short-legged little me was not exactly able to keep up with him! Somehow, I managed to not be hurled off my feet and smashed face-first into the stairs. Instead, I was half-dragged, half-carried up the stairs, my legs only barely able to keep pace. Finally, we came to a stop at the top of the stairs, and I fell against the closest wall, panting heavily. Mr Rikkard Ambrose was already at the window, scanning the crowd below with a piercing gaze.

Dragging in a deep breath, I stepped up to the window beside him—and, for the first time, I got a good look at what was going on in the city, now that the rebel army was flooding the place.