Chapter 26

Smoke filled the air. Lysander coughed. He gritted his teeth in a smile. This was more like it. He was crouched in the doorway of a dry goods store near the center of the city. His men were around him, some groaning in agony, others coughing and spluttering. These desert men were putting up a fight.

And not just the men. He had a six inch gash in his side from some fishwife who had darted out of a darkened doorway with a kitchen knife. It was the first time anyone had scored a hit on him in ages. She had died honorably, looking into his eyes and cursing him.

It had been rough going for him and his men. After the first roadblocks went up, they’d had to work on clearing out pockets of men and women with superior reach, at least until the pikemen had unloaded from the later boats. They had been brought up in the rear on purpose, the idea being to overrun the city quickly, before defenses could be organized. In those circumstances, the bulky pikes would be more hindrance than help.

But the defenses had crystallized more quickly than Lysander had expected. At first, it appeared they’d just blocked the streets with whatever was handy, and left a small force to hold the intersections, giving the center of the city time to organize and to help as many evacuate west as possible.

The griffins had made the latter impossible. Oh sure, some probably slipped through the lines, and more would after dark. But for now, the populace was penned in the center of the city.

Lysander was still amazed at how well organized the resistance was. They’d been in the town less than three hours, yet the city center looked like an armed camp. It had taken time to clear obstructions and get men organized enough to move inward.

He didn’t know who started the first fires, his men or theirs. But the entire southern half of the city had to be in flames. Smoke billowed upwards in great fountains, the off-shore breeze blowing it west. Lysander squinted his eyes and poked his head quickly out the door, scanning the skies. It was very hazy and hard to see. He wondered how the griffins were dealing with the smoke.

No matter. Even grounded they could hold the western edge of the city. He jerked his head back in and heard a loud crack as a rock ricocheted off the doorjamb. Someone out there had a sling and was pretty handy with it. Probably some hunter who had come into Debobat to sell his catch.

His men would be setting up a command post for him in some anonymous inn a few blocks back. He would retreat to meet up with his commanders and discuss strategy. For now, he wanted to see the front lines, to give himself a better idea of what his men were up against.

Scouts’ reports were all well and good, but sometimes you needed to assess a situation with your own eyes.

Scattered reports had come in from across the city. He knew the southern quarter was on fire. He and his men mostly controlled the East, although there were still mysterious losses from guerilla actions. There was a pitched battle in the northern quarter. The desert men there hadn’t been so quick to retreat. It was a house to house fight.

And he had no idea what was happening on the western side of town. He had to trust that Liam had the situation well in hand. That left the center of town, where the majority of the enemy had decided to make their stand. Lysander would have to give some thought to how to take them.

For now, he had what he came for. A breeze blew some smoke into the street. He took a deep breath, held his shield up over his head and ran quickly down the block, back toward the east and the bulk of his forces.

Next>