Dust of Dreams

out upon witnessing the birth of the portal, those cries turning to need and then anger as the Shake and the islanders among them plunged into the gate, vanishing—escaping this madness.
    He stood with his troop, gauging the nearest of the rioters. ‘Captain Brevity,’ he called over a shoulder.
    ‘Watch.’
    ‘Do not tarry here. We will do what needs doing.’
    ‘We got our orders.’
    ‘I said we will hold.’
    ‘Sorry,’ the woman snapped. ‘We ain’t in the mood to watch you go all heroic here.’
    ‘Asides,’ added Pithy, ‘our lads couldn’t live with themselves if they just left you to it.’
    A half-dozen voices loudly objected to her claim, to which both captains laughed.
    Biting back a smile, Yedan said nothing. The mob was moments from rushing them—they were being pushed from behind. It was always this way, he knew. Someone else’s courage, so boisterous in its refuge among walls of flesh, so easywith someone else’s life. He could see, in heaving eddies, the worst of them, and set their details in his mind, to test their courage when at last he came face to face with each one.
    ‘Wake up, soldiers,’ he shouted. ‘Here they come.’
    The first task in driving back a charging mob was two quick steps forward, right into the faces of the foremost attackers. Cut them down, pull back a single stride, and hold fast. As the survivors were thrust forward once more, repeat the aggression, messy and brutal, and this time advance into the teeth of the crowd, blades chopping, stabbing, shield rims slamming into bodies, studded heels crunching down on those that fell underfoot.
    The nearest ranks recoiled from the assault.
    Then retaliated, rising like a wave.
    Yedan and his troop delivered fierce slaughter. Held for twenty frantic heartbeats, and then were driven back one step, and then another. Better-armed looters began appearing, thrust to the forefront. The first Letherii soldier fell, stabbed through a thigh. Two of Brevity’s guards hurried forward and pulled the man from the line, a cutter rushing in to staunch the wound with clumps of spider’s web.
    Pithy shouted from a position directly behind Yedan: ‘
More than half through, Watch!
’
    The armed foes that fell to his soldiers either reeled back or collapsed at their feet. These latter ones gave up the weapons they held to more of the two captains’ guards, who reached through quick as cats to snatch them away before the attackers could recover them. The two women were busy arming others to bolster their rearguard—Yedan could imagine no other reason for the risky—and, truth be told, irritating—tactic.
    His soldiers were tiring—it had been some time since they’d last worn full armour. He’d been slack in keeping them fit. Too much riding, not enough marching. When had any of them last drawn blood? The Edur invasion for most of them.
    They were paying for it now. Ragged gasps, slowing arms, stumbles.
    ‘Back one step!’
    The line edged back—
    ‘Now forward! Hard!’
    The mob had seen that retreat as a victory, the beginnings of a rout. The sudden attack into their faces shocked them, their weapons unreadied, their minds on everything but defence. That front line melted, as did the one behind it, and then a third. Yedan and his soldiers—knowing that this was their last push—fought like snarling beasts.
    And all at once, the hundreds crowding before them suddenly scattered—the rough ranks shattering. Weapons thrown aside, fleeing as fast as legs could carry them, down the strand, out into the shallows. Scores were trampled, driven into mud or stones or water. Fighting broke out in desperate efforts to clear paths through.
    Yedan withdrew his troop. They staggered back to the waiting rearguard—who looked upon them in silence, perhaps disbelieving.
    ‘Attend to the wounded,’ barked Yedan, lifting his cheek grilles to cool his throbbing face, snatching in deep breaths.
    ‘We can get moving now,’ Brevity said, tugging at his shield arm. ‘We can just walk on through to . . . wherever. You, Watch, you need to be in charge of the Shake army, did you know that?’
    ‘The Shake have no army—’
    ‘They better get one and soon.’
    ‘Besides, I am an outlaw—I slaughtered—’
    ‘We know what you did. You’re an Errant-damned up-the-wall madman, Yedan Derryg. Best kinda commander an army could have.’
    Pithy said, ‘Leave the petitioning to us, sweetie.’ And she smiled.
    He looked round. One