“Aye.” Bladesinger raised her sword in her off-hand.
Mia opened the door, and the gladiatii charged soundlessly toward the front portcullis. It took a few moments for the guards to process what they were seeing, and by then, it was too late. One reared back gurgling as Sidonius clubbed him square in the throat. Wavewaker crashed into the other guard, smashing him into the guardhouse wall. The man raised his truncheon, his shout becoming a muffled whimper as Mia clapped her hand over his mouth and buried her knee in his bollocks. He dropped like a stone, and the girl snatched up his club as it fell, cracked it across his head and laid him flat out in the dirt.
Butcher ratcheted up the portcullis as Bladesinger and Albanus stripped the last two guards, began strapping on their breastplates. Mia was too small to wear any man’s kit, and besides, there weren’t enough unconscious guards to go around. Instead, she threw a cloak she’d gotten from only Aa knew where about her shoulders, pulled the hood low over her eyes.
“Right,” she whispered. “We make for the Gloryhound in the harbor.”
“Walk tall, look folk in the eye,” Bladesinger reminded them. “We win this game by appearing as if we belong, aye?”
The gladiatii nodded, and calmly as they could, marched out from the portcullis in neat formation and started tromping down the road. Mia brought up the rear, hood pulled low. Wavewaker’s armor didn’t fit too well across his broad shoulders, Bladesinger’s arm was still swathed in bandages and spotted with blood—under scrutiny, their disguises wouldn’t last. But the hour was late, and the port below the Nest was quiet. Hopefully the subterfuge would hold long enough for them to get aboard.
Marching out in front, Sidonius tried to keep his nerves in check. This die was cast, and whatever happened now was in the hands of fate, but Daughters, it was hard not to just break into a run, get as far as he could as fast as possible. The troupe walked down the dusty road encircling Crow’s Nest, Sid staring out at the blue waters of the Sea of Swords. Marching into the town, they passed a few farmers on the way to market, a messenger rushing about on his master’s business, a handful of urchins gathered around a loaf of stolen bread. Not a one of them paid any mind.
He could see the tall masts of ships looming over the harbor now, his heart beating faster. Thinking of that vast blue ocean, the places they could sail, any place but here. He looked to the other gladiatii, risked a smile, Bryn grinning back, Wavewaker whispering, “Hold steady.” Marching closer, the smell of salt in the air, the screeching of gulls like music in his ears, every step bringing them ne— “Look alive,” Bladesinger muttered. “Soldiers ahead.”
Sid grit his teeth but didn’t break stride, noting the quartet of legionaries from the Crow’s Rest garrison marching down the other side of the street. He’d no clue if the local soldiery mixed with Leona’s houseguards—men of the sword had a tendency to gather and gripe no matter who they worked for. But at a distance, their disguises should pass, and it was only a few hundred feet to the harbo— “I know you,” said a voice.
Sidonius stopped, looked behind them. A young redheaded girl wearing the feathered cap and pack of a traveling peddler had stopped in the street, pointing at Mia.
“Four Daughters, I know you,” she repeated. “You’re the Savior of Stormwatch!”
Mia shot a warning look to the others, gave the girl a small smile. “Aye, Dona.”
“I saw you slay the retchwyrm!” the girl cried, her blue eyes shining. “Merciful Aa, what a fight! I’ve never seen the like!”
“My thanks, Mi Dona,” Mia muttered. “But I’ve ma—”
“Look here!” the peddler cried to the street. “The Savior of Stormwatch!”
“Here they come,” Wavewaker muttered.
Sid’s stomach flipped as he realized the legionaries had overheard the peddler, and all four were now crossing the street. Their centurion saw the ornate plume on Sidonius’s helm and called out in greeting.
“Ho, Gannicus! What brings you lazy bastards down here at this…”
The centurion stopped, squinting at Sidonius’s face through the slits in his helm.
“… Gannicus?”
“Go!” Mia cried.
The gladiatii charged, weapons drawn. The centurion and his men fumbled with their swords, faces bleached with panic. It had been truncheons and fists for Leona’s houseguards, but there was no room for mercy here—these were fully armed and armored Itreyan legionaries, trained to kill. Wavewaker drove his blade through the centurion’s chest, skewering him like a pig at spit. Butcher smashed another’s blade aside, spun, and took his throat clean out, scarlet spraying in the air with the salt. The peddler started screaming, running down the street crying, “Murder! Murder!” as Sidonius finished off another legionary with a flash of his sword. Albanus ended the last of them, cutting the legionary’s legs out from under him before burying his blade in the join between the man’s shoulder and neck.
“Make for the harbor,” Mia cried. “Go! Go!”
They broke into a run, all semblance of propriety gone. Sid’s sandals pounding the cobbles, folks turning to stare as they dashed past, the cries of Murder! from up the street growing louder. They reached the docks, barreling past sailors and merchantmen unloading their stock, fishermen on the wharf. Wavewaker was running beside him, Bryn out in front, Mia bringing up the rear, all of them splashed with blood. He could see the Gloryhound at anchor, perhaps a hundred yards out in the bay.
“There she is,” he gasped.
Sid dropped over the side of the wharf into the ’Hound’s longboat. The other gladiatii jumped in beside him, Butcher and Wavewaker taking up the oars and rowing as if their lives depended on it. Sid could hear bells ringing now, the alarm spreading through Crow’s Rest and waking the residents from their sleep, the fearful cry echoing up and down their quiet streets.
“Rebellion!”
“The Falcons in revolt!”
Butcher and Wavewaker leaned hard on the oars, each stroke bringing them closer to the ’Hound. Bladesinger shielded her eyes against the water’s glare, nodding at the empty masts.
“Sails are stowed.”
“We can set them swift enough,” Wavewaker grunted.
“Are you certain?” Butcher gasped.
“Rest easy, brother,” Wavewaker nodded. “I was learning to sail while you were still suckling at your mother’s teats.”
“You only learned to sail last year?” Bryn grinned.
“Let’s leave my mother’s teats out of this, aye?” Butcher growled.
“Talk softer, row harder,” Sidonius said.
They reached the ’Hound, scrambling up the rope ladder and onto the deck. The ship rolled and swayed with the sea, sunslight burning in that endless blue sky. A lone watchman came down from the bow, demanding to know what they were about, but a backhand from Wavewaker sent him to the boards, moaning and bloodied. From up on deck, Sid could see movement around the docks; a handful of legionaries, mariners pointing in their direction.