Page 41 of Conflicted Fate
However, not everyone left. Some stayed and watched us thoughtfully. Others asked what we were doing. Word began to spread that we’d come to liberate the city. To remove all those who were loyal to the Alphas.
And our numbers swelled because of it. Men and women, those who had realized the oppression under which they lived, stepped forward. Most were weaponless, but that didn’t matter. The swords from the dead or surrendered guards were distributed to those with experience. Others simply came along to help. Still more grabbed anything they could from the market that could be used as a weapon. I saw one shifter wielding a long curved blade meant for slicing fabric.
A surge of pride ran through me. We could do this. We could liberate the city.
“We have to get to the palace,” Kiel said from my left as we headed out of the market and up the city’s main thoroughfare. “That’s where the biggest cluster of guards will be. If we can take them out, the rest of the city will fall.”
Up the road, we went on a gentle incline. At the top was the palace that Arcadus had once ruled from. The stone walls beckoned, seemingly growing taller the closer we got.
A wall of armor greeted us, spilling forth from the gates and assembling into neat ranks outside the entrance. The front row drew swords, while the two ranks behind leveled spears at us, designed to keep us at bay while those in the front chopped us into bits.
We slowed, our mob spreading out wide and filling the street.
“Any ideas here?” I asked Kiel. Simply charging would be a death sentence. But guards continued to emerge from the palace, having come from other parts of the city.
Our forces slowly entered the square where the Wulfhere waited. Filling at least half the main square, they’d advanced far enough to cut off our access from the side streets.
Before he could reply, somethingclangedoff a piece of armor, loud enough to carry across the square.
“What the hell was that?” someone muttered.
Clang.
It happened again.
“Go away! We don’t want you here!”
Hundreds of eyes swiveled to a rooftop, where a young teen cocked his arm back and let fly a stone. It soared through the air, hitting a guard square in the head, making him stagger back.
Clang. Clang.
Those came from the other side of the formation. More youths on the rooftops, tossing whatever they could find at the guards. The armored formation shifted, a ripple of unease, while a low growl ran through the mass of angry rebels.
The tide was turning, and the guards knew it.
Soon, there were dozens of civilians on the rooftops. While some threw chunks of stone and rock, others acted as bucket brigades to ferry more things to throw at the guards. Facing such an assault, the guards began to waver.
Kiel advanced. Just a single step.
We all advanced with him, only taking that single step.
The guards looked around, eyes and heads twisting, trying to understand what they were supposed to do.
A huge chunk of rock the size of someone’s head soared over the crowd, sending one guard to the ground. The crowd roared in victory.
Kiel stepped forward again.
Our entire line followed. A straight line now. A singular front arrayed against the guards. It still wasn’t as neat and orderly as our enemy, but it was far more organized than it had been. Behind it, others began lining up.
“Now!”
A veritable flurry of huge pieces of rock and stone and pots and anything heavy and hard rained down on the left flank of the guards, rocking them. The formation came apart. Only for a second, but it was enough. The rebels smashed into the line, closing the distance before the Wulfhere could recover.
Everything came apart as guards tried to protect themselves. But the attacks were now coming from all around them as rebels crossed through their lines.
That wasn’t to say it was bloodless. Many rebels died in the frenzy. But not as many as would have without the help of the citizens of Arcadia. Ordinary people standing up for what they believed in. Those were the true victors in our fight.
“It’s done,” Kiel said half an hour later, his chest heaving from exertion. He sported two nasty-looking cuts on his chest and right arm, but he barely seemed to notice. Meanwhile, his sword dripped blood. I was sure the entire square was coated in it, the stones dark.
