Sabine Bauer - Mirror, mirror

Of course, subtly didn't really work with McKay, who ground to a dead halt, sniffed the air, and yelped, "What is that?"

"Smoke," Teyla said pleasantly.

"They probably haven't made this discovery on Athos yet, but on Earth we've known for quite a while that where there's smoke, there's fire. Common sense suggests to run away from fire, not toward it."

"We're running past it," Ronon snapped, nipping the debate in the bud. "It's the only way out, so keep going"

Without waiting for the comeback, he yanked McKay another couple of steps up. McKay did have a point, of course, but there was little Ronon could do about it, except hope that the fire hadn't spread into the hallway-though, given the pace they were going at, chances were that the entire fortress would have burned down by the time they made it up there.

And he really, really shouldn't have thought that!

The smoke was getting thicker by the second, and if it was this bad down here, he didn't really want to imagine what the hallway would be like. The good news was that they were all still drenched from the downpour, which might just save them now. He ran faster, forcing Rodney to keep pace with him.

"It worked," Teyla whispered.

"Too well," he grunted back.

"What worked?" gasped McKay.

"Stop wasting your breath and run "

Finally they stumbled out into the hallway by the guardroom and into a wall of smoke. Black and all but impenetrable, it seemed to fill the corridor like a living thing, breathing malevolence. He pulled the collar of his shirt over his face and made sure that the others had similar makeshift masks-not that they'd be much good in the long run.

Then again, all they had to do was make it to the door, wasn't it?

Eyes streaming, Ronon squinted into the roiling smoke and realized that this might be taller order than he'd anticipated. From somewhere to his right came the whip-crack roar of flames, and he figured that they had to be near the guardroom door, meaning that they needed to carry straight on. That theory was refuted when he took two steps forward and hit a wall. For a second or two, blind panic constricted his throat, and it was all he could do not to start flailing and screaming like a madman. Then a hand caught his wrist and held on tight.

"It requires some practice," Teyla croaked, a hint of amusement coloring her smoke-roughened voice. "I've got Rodney, too. Come with me."

As soon as she started tugging him along, Ronon's disorientation increased. It wasn't the direction he would have taken, about ninety degrees to his intended course and followed in short order by a sharp right turn. Attempting to draw a mental map, he arrived at the conclusion that they inadvertently must have ended up in the guardroom itself and shuddered despite the stifling heat. If it weren't for Teyla, he might have killed them all.

Trying not to breathe and scrunching his eyes shut against the biting smoke, Ronon staggered along. Within minutes he tripped down a couple of steps into a sudden onslaught of cold air and driving rain, and he silently vowed never to complain about the local weather again.

They stumbled away from the building, coughing and choking and turning their faces up into the downpour to let it rinse off soot and grime. Behind them a series of window panes exploded in the heat, peppering them with shards and sending flames streaming into the night like banners. Across the courtyard people who'd run from other wings of the fortress were milling around in confusion, shouting for guards, servants, anyone they deemed qualified to fight the blaze. Someone spotted the bedraggled threesome fleeing the guard wing and pointed excitedly.

Several men broke from the group, led by a short, elderly guy whose pinched looks reminded Ronon of a prune. His robes-a pompous affair of silk and fur hardly suited to the weather-trailed in the ever rising lake that flooded the courtyard and forced him into a forward list as if he were fighting not to be yanked back by them.

"Oh no…" McKay seemed to contemplate an immediate return to the burning guard wing.

"What?" hissed Ronon.

"I know that guy. Worse, he knows me. He presided at my trial, so-called. I have to-"

"Stay put!" Ronon flung an arm around teenage Rodney's scrawny shoulder and pulled him close. With his other hand, he grabbed Teyla's arm. Happy families. "Let me pass!" he roared, breaking into a run, straight toward the overdressed prune, and doing his best to look as wild-eyed as the rest of the gathering in the courtyard. "My wife and son! I need to get them to safety!"

For a moment the man just gaped at them. When it finally sunk in that Ronon wasn't about to change course, he jumped back a couple of steps, bony hands helplessly waving in the air as if to flag up his outrage. "Your wife and son? Why did you bring them?" he asked incongruously, perhaps in an attempt to reestablish some kind of authority. "Women and children are not allowed here!"

A fountain of laughter bubbled up his throat, nearly choking Ronon, but instead of giving in to it, he grabbed his charges tighter and charged past the man and toward the archway and the portcullis.

"Stop them!" the prune squealed at no one in particular. His shrieks caused a brief stir among the other bureaucrats in the courtyard; then they seemed to decide that the fire in the fortress was a more immediate concern and ignored their colleague.

Ronon had the portcullis in his sights, those squeaked-out orders were sliding off his back together with the rain, and for a precious second or two he felt something akin to relief The rumble of bootfalls echoing from the archway convinced him of the error of his ways. A detachment of guards came thundering into the courtyard and gave McKay's friend a second wind.

"Apprehend these people!" the guy shouted again, this time with considerably more authority. Apparently he had regained his composure.

"You're hurting me!" Teyla hissed softly, and Ronon realized that he was clenching his fists in an effort not to succumb to instinct and freeze.

He let go of both her and McKay, wanting his hands free to be able to draw his sword. Whatever else happened, Ronon Dex wasn't going to go down without a fight. Besides, from what he'd seen of the soldiers here, he probably had a betterthan-average chance of taking out the entire detachment singlehandedly. He hoped. And-

The guards galloped past him, Teyla, and McKay as though they'd never heard the prune's order. And maybe they hadn't. As they passed, Ronon could all but smell their fear. Something had happened, and he had a pretty good idea of-

"Sirs!" the leader of the detachment yelled. "They've broken down the gate. The city gate has fallen!"

Yep.

The timing couldn't have been better. A furtive glance over his shoulder told Ronon that even the prune had forgotten they so much as existed. He bustled his charges into the shadows beneath the archway and through to the portcullis. The sole guard, Teyla's friend, was still on duty, but Ronon was in no mood to enter into negotiations over why he was bringing his `captive' back out again, together with an escaped prisoner. Without so much as waiting for the surprised man to open his mouth, he landed a solid right hook on the tip of the guard's chin, knocking him out cold.

"That felt good!" Grunting happily, Ronon watched as the guard crumpled into an ungainly heap at his feet. "Been meaning to do that since I first met the guy."

"Glad to see those charm school classes are finally paying off," muttered McKay.

"If you can talk, you can run. Let's go!" Ronon grabbed Teyla's arm again and began guiding her down the lane at a brisk jog.

Here and there the rain-laden darkness above the rooftops had turned an ugly, pumping red; burning houses where he and Teyla had left their fire-starters. The noise was obvious now, or maybe he just hadn't been paying attention while they were still inside the fortress-screams of panic as people tried to get away from or extinguish the fires in the heart of the city and, from the direction of the gate, shouts and the metal-clad sounds of fighting.