Jim Hines - The Snow Queen's shadow

Talia lowered her head and walked faster, trying to keep the cart between them and the Stormcrows. Just ahead, a girl carried a little boy on her shoulders. He was bundled in a fur blanket with only his face exposed, and he kept twisting around and pointing behind him. He was crying, and kept wiping his nose on the blanket, but it was the girl’s expression that most disturbed Talia. Her lack of expression, rather. She simply stared as she trudged ahead. Not a slave to the demon’s magic, but another victim, lost and in shock after seeing her palace burn.

Talia’s tension grew with each step. There were too many people packed too tightly together, bumping and brushing against each other. It would be far too easy to slip a knife into your neighbor’s ribs. The press of bodies would keep the victim upright, and you’d be gone before anyone noticed.

She did her best to watch Danielle and Gerta, guiding anyone remotely threatening away with none-too-gentle jabs of her elbows and fists. She couldn’t see their pursuers anymore, but given the Stormcrows’ powers, that meant little. Magically disguised, they could walk right alongside Talia and without her cape she would never know.

The darkling had changed form, melting into something that resembled a blackbird if you didn’t stare too closely. It flew along the rooftops beside them.

From the murmurs around her, the people knew Allesandria had been attacked, but not by whom. Some stated confidently that King Laurence was dead, and Hiladi soldiers were even now marching upon the city. Others claimed the attack had come from Morova, and that Laurence should never have married Odelia. One man argued it was a rebellion from within, that the king’s Stormcrows were attempting to seize control.

“Mark my words,” he said. “It’s the Deathcrows, Queen Rose’s personal killers. They’ve been waiting for the right time to rise up and destroy her usurper. It’s the second Purge.”

Talia could see the wall now, burning taller than the trees. Armored Stormcrows peered through the windows of the towers to either side of the gate.

Angry shouts broke out from those closest to the gate. From the left tower, one of the Stormcrows shouted, “By order of King Laurence, the city is sealed. Return to your homes.” His voice carried clearly through the protests of the crowd, far too loud to be natural.

Talia glanced at the darkling, perched lazily upon a chimney. The darkling didn’t seem to notice the smoke passing through its body. “We could try to fight our way out.”

“Storm the tower?” Danielle asked. “With a chisel?”

“I have a hammer, too!” Gerta offered.

“Do you have a better suggestion?” Talia asked, mimicking Danielle’s intonation from before.

Danielle scowled. “Gerta, can you open the gate?”

Gerta shook her head. “I can’t control it. I might be able to get through the flames, but there’s nothing to stop the Stormcrows from killing me as I emerge on the other side.”

A change in the tenor of the crowd warned her. Talia had grown accustomed to the subdued murmurs, the muttered complaints, the weeping of children and the forced comfort of their parents and caretakers. The voices grew louder, more fearful behind her. Talia turned and swore.

The four Stormcrows had spread out. Each wielded a wooden rod that glittered blue in the firelight. As Talia watched, one Stormcrow absently clubbed a man on the face. He staggered back, and blood began to well from the cuts the Stormcrow’s weapon had left.

“The clubs are coated in glass dust from Snow’s mirror,” Gerta said. “Back in Lorindar, it took time for the demon to control its victims. Now it’s strong enough to do it almost instantly.”

People were screaming now, pushing one another to try to get away. The Stormcrows moved without haste, striking everyone in their path. Already the first man infected had succumbed to the demon’s power. He seized a woman by the arm and dragged her toward the Stormcrows.

The crowd surged past, trying to escape. Some pounded the doors of the tower. Others fled through the streets.

“Fine,” snapped Talia. “You storm the tower. Find a way to open that gate and get out of here.” She plucked the chisel from Danielle’s hand. “I’ll need this.”

“What about you?” asked Gerta.

Talia squeezed past a man bent double under the weight of the belongings strapped to his back. “I’m going to try to slow them down. Go!”

The four Stormcrows spied her at once, and began pushing through the crowd toward her. A man with a bloody hand grabbed her shoulder. She punched him in the nose, but the pain didn’t seem to affect him. With a curse, she seized his finger and twisted, snapping bone to make him release her.

She shoved her way into an alley between a tavern and some sort of clothing shop. Chunks of ice dropped onto the street, her only warning before a body leaped from the roof to land on top of her. She rolled with the impact, coming up on top of her attacker, a heavyset, gray-haired woman who looked like she should be bouncing grandchildren on her knee.

Once again, pain was no deterrent. Talia had to dislocate the woman’s shoulder to free herself, and by then more of the demon’s slaves were following her into the alley. She could almost hear Snow teasing her over yet another ill-thought-out plan.

A cold shadow swooped past her head. The darkling dropped to the ground and strode toward her pursuers. Talia glanced back to see hands seize the darkling’s arms. Moments later, those hands began to wither, fingers drying and crumbling to dust. “Don’t kill them if you can help it!”

She tried the servant’s entrance to the tavern, but it was locked and barred. Behind her, there was a flash of light. Squinting through her fingers, Talia could just make out one of the Stormcrows driving the darkling back. Where were the other three? Hopefully, they had spread out to trap her instead of chasing Gerta and Danielle.

She hurried into the next street, where she deliberately crashed into a man wearing a heavy cloak of bear fur. This was no demon slave. He shouted and fought as Talia yanked his cloak free.

From the corner of her eye, Talia spotted the darkling coming up behind her. She bared her teeth. “You can give me the cloak, or you can take it up with my fairy friend.”

The man paled.

“Sorry,” Talia said as she flung the cloak over her shoulders. She joined the fleeing crowd, adjusting her posture to try to make herself appear shorter and broader of shoulder. To the darkling, she said, “Get to Danielle and Gerta. Keep them safe.”

And then she waited, allowing herself only furtive glances over her shoulder as the Stormcrow and his slaves spread into the street, searching for her. She spied a second Stormcrow a block down.

The screaming was worse now. People pressed together with no regard for safety. Few even knew what they were running from. Their panic was infectious. Talia’s heart pounded faster, and her stomach tightened. Sweat dripped into her eyes. She fought the need to push through the crowd and escape.

Instead, she stayed at the back, feigning weakness. A hand closed around her arm, spinning her roughly around. She allowed herself to fall to her knees, keeping her hood over her face as she watched the feet around her until she spied black polished boots approaching and heard the rippling jingle of Stormcrow armor. Two men hauled her to her feet.

She slammed the butt of her chisel into the center of one man’s forehead. The other she elbowed in the throat. The Stormcrow raised his weapon high, blood dripping from the glass dusting the wood.

Talia dropped her chisel and stepped close, one hand catching the Stormcrow’s wrist, the other clamping around his elbow. She kept moving, taking him off-balance and twisting the weapon from his hand. A sharp blow to the back of his neck dropped him to the street. She crouched long enough to seize the athame from his belt with her other hand.