The Radiant War

Chapter 27b

     The palace guards, thrown into disarray by the Brigadier's bodily attack and unable to mount a proper defence, died as Darniss and the gate guards fired their weapons at them. One bullet grazed the Brigadier's arm, but it went on to kill the man beneath him, who'd been about to thrust a dagger into his side. He took the knife from the man's dead hand and stabbed it into another of the men he was lying on, then rolled to the side, onto an empty patch of ground where he was safe from the bullets flying in both directions above him. The whole battle only lasted a few moments and then silence fell, but the Brigadier waited another few seconds before climbing back to his feet, just in case. “We did it!” he heard someone saying. “They're dead!”

     “There's more coming,” someone else said. The Brigadier scrambled upright and saw another group of palace guards running towards them. Guards who hadn't seen the Radiant controlling the weather and so had no idea what all the fighting was about. All they knew was that the Princess was escaping and that some of their own men had turned traitor. Some of them might have come over to their side if they'd had the chance to explain things to them, but there would be no time for that. All the fugitives could do was run.

     “Let's go,” he said, leading the way out through the gate and into the city. The two women and the gate guards followed him. The Brigadier saw that Darniss had taken a bullet to the arm and was squeezing it with her other hand to try to stop the bleeding. The last gate guard to come through had the presence of mind to close the gates behind him. He put a huge key into the lock and turned it, making a loud series of clunks as the mechanism turned. Bullets were already flying, though, and sparks flew from the railings as they bounced off, screaming as they ricocheted into the air. The man ducked as he ran to catch up with the others, hurrying across the plaza to the nearest of the narrow streets.

     “Anyone know where we’re going?” asked the Brigadier as they ran.

     “I know a... a place,” said Briggs, struggling to find the breath to speak while running. “There's a... a place with a secret... a secret basement... used by opium... smugglers. We can hide there... for now while we think... think of something more... permanent.”

     “Won't the city guard know about it?” asked the Brigadier, but the look on the guard’s face was all the answer he needed. He struggled to contain his disgust. This wasn't his country, he told himself. Corruption in the guard wasn't his concern. He should just be grateful that it gave them this bolt hole, no matter how unsatisfactory it might be. “Very well,” he said. “Lead on.”

     Briggs led them through what passed for the city's upper class districts as fast as possible. People stared in surprise as they passed and the Brigadier heard someone say “Princess!” while pointing at them. That was bad. Their pursuers could follow the trail of witnesses they were leaving behind. Why didn't I wait until nightfall? he asked himself. This would be so much easier with the cover of darkness. The sense of urgency bad been so strong, though, and their only intention at first had been to make contact with the Princess and receive orders from her. Even so, he should have anticipated that this might happen. He would have some serious explaining to do when he had time to have a proper conversation with the Princess.

     After they'd gone a mile or two, the streets became darker and narrower and the buildings were shabbier, with graffiti, litter and signs of damage that had clearly been done some time ago and that no-one could be bothered to repair. Homeless people were sitting in dark corners wrapped in filthy blankets and rats scurried along the gutters. The guard who was leading them took them around another corner, looked back to make sure they were out of sight of their pursuers, and slowed to a walk.

     He doubled over, resting his hands on his knees while he gasped for breath, and the other guards were little better off. Out of shape, thought the Brigadier with disgust. Poorly disciplined and corrupt. And these men had been trusted with guarding the residence of the Royal family! And yet Carrow had good soldiers. He'd met many of them during a lifetime of border skirmishes and diplomatic incidents. Honest, decent, worthy enemies. He’d met more good people during the travel across the country he’d just undertaken, and even these men whose corruption and unfitness was currently outraging him were helping him because of a loyalty to their own country, their own people, that outweighed their loyalty to their traitor king. Perhaps I shouldn’t judge them so harshly, he thought. No matter how unworthy they are for the duty with which they'd been trusted, their hearts are in the right place. They just lacked the right training, the right leadership. He made up his mind to be patient with them, therefore. It wasn't as if he had any choice anyway.