61… Timing was getting too tight for comfort.
With a deeper breath, he dropped the flaming mass into the hole and the two men slid down the tiles and off the edge. They dropped the eight feet from the roof onto the soft gravel with a crunch that was altogether too loud for Ursa’s liking. Here, the two men stood, hunched into the corner formed by the meeting of the perimeter wall with the ammunition shed. The main light within this area of the compound: the brazier in front of this very building, cast a deep shadow here and the two men held their breath.
Across the compound, the patrolling guards emerged from behind the other buildings. This would only work if the timing was right…
Suddenly, the wall behind the big man seemed to actually bulge and buckle for a moment, trying to contain the pressure from within. There was a series of deep thumps from within as several of the pots exploded. The interior of the ammunition store would now be wreathed in fire, but the building had been constructed with this possibility in mind. The heavy walls contained it, and the huge pots would survive intact, so long as the fire was put out quick enough.
A cry of alarm issued from round the corner at the front of the building as the guard by the door realised what had happened. Sure enough, just as Ursa had expected, the two soldiers on patrol came hurtling directly across the compound toward the building as the guard struggled with his keys to open the door. There were several more bangs from within and flames were now issuing from the roof in an impressive column. As the approaching guards reached the front of the shed, occupied with the fire and the noise, distracted by the dancing flames within, Ursa and his companion took the opportunity to run along the wall, heading toward the compound gates.
They were only halfway there when the ox cart that marked phase two burst through the wooden portal, shattering the beam that held the gate fast and coming on unstoppably.
Briefly, Ursa had to feel for the oxen. They were huge and strong creatures, but to be driven directly into the gate must have been excruciating for them. The heavy cart thundered into the compound, the two drivers turning slightly and heading for the next gate; the one in the stockade.
Behind the cart, Ursa and his companion ran to keep up.
All hell was now breaking loose in the compound. Most of the soldiers were holed up either asleep in the bunkhouse or drinking and sheltering in the guard room. Men emerged from the doors, expressions of shock and surprise plastered across their faces; many of them unarmed and unarmoured, caught in an off-duty state.
Confusion reigned and the newly-arrived guards panicked, most of them rushing off toward the burning ammunition store. They would have to get the flames under control before the larger pots caught or they could lose a lot of the warehouse district to fire in the night. A few men who could see beyond this immediate danger turned and ran for the cart. The first, stupidly, tried to grab the reins of the oxen as they thundered past. There was no hope of stopping the huge bovines with this amount of momentum, and the unfortunate man was dragged beneath and trampled to a bloody pulp.
As others tried to keep pace with the heavy, unstoppable cart, Ursa caught up with it, panting and running along behind with his companion, moments before the vehicle hit and burst through the stockade gate.
Screams and shouts of alarm issued from within as the captive pirates and other criminals threw themselves out of the way of the rolling nightmare. As they passed the threshold, the two pirate drivers threw themselves from the cart and rolled to their feet.
Ever-prepared, the men of the Dark Empress began to emerge from the stockade at a run. Ursa heaved a deep breath and bellowed “To the Empress!”
The pursuing guards pulled up sharply as previously-caged criminals of numerous varieties poured out of the stockade with a taste for freedom and many a grudge against their wardens.
As the two dozen men of the Empress ran toward the gate, Ursa shook his head sympathetically at the plight of the guardsmen around him as they struggled amid the wreckage of shattered stockades and gates to control the ever increasing fire at the ammunition store that threatened the whole district, while several dozen vicious criminals took the opportunity to either flee or exact their vengeance on any figure of authority they spotted.
Ghassan had been explicit that he wanted the body-count kept as low as prudence allowed; preferably nil. To Ursa’s knowledge, the only direct casualty had been the man beneath the oxen but, he thought sadly as he ran toward the jetties with his shipmates, the number of deaths caused by fire and escaping prisoners could yet be appalling.
Nothing he could do about that, now, though. His duty was to the Dark Empress, her crew and her captain, wherever he might be.
In which there is a night time visit
The rope had been removed, of course. Samir wondered how long it had taken before the more observant of the palace guards had spotted it arcing out across the street. Likely the entire compound had been searched down to the last cupboard for some kind of interloper. They’d been sadly disappointed. Briefly, the fugitive pirate captain considered walking up to the main gate, bold as brass, and demanding entrance. The shock value of such a move appealed tremendously. However, in all likelihood he would end up chained in the remaining half of the prison tower without ever setting foot in the compound that way.
He glanced up and down the street. The sun had gone down hours ago and, while he had no idea how Ghassan was going to break out the rest of the men and free the ship, he knew two things for certain: that his brother would succeed, and that something spectacular would be involved.
And so he’d stood on one of the highest roofs in this the upper part of the town where he had a magnificent panoramic view of the docks way below at the other end of M’Dahz. He’d not known exactly what he was waiting for, but he felt sure he would recognise a sign of action and he didn’t really want to make his next move until he was sure Ghassan was getting underway.
The wait had been long and dull and Samir had sat on the roof, cutting slices of peach with his pocket knife and snacking as he watched the dark district far below. And then, just after the midnight bells rang out in the town’s temples, he’d spotted what he’d been waiting for. There had been a flash and a column of flame had burst through a roof. He’d have put that down to Ghassan regardless of where it happened, but there was no doubt that the flames were rising from the ammunition store in the guard compound. The colour of the flames and the roiling smoke rising to the stars above was testament to that.
“Good.”
And so he’d turned and made his way down to the street where he now stood, frowning at the palace compound wall. This time he was here on his own schedule and, while he couldn’t afford to waste hours, it was dark and the streets were empty, giving him plenty of space to work.
Looking up, the fifteen feet of sheer-faced boundary wall revealed no possible hand or foot holds but the construction, while cored with solid stone, offered a mud-brick and plaster outer as was common in architecture from the poorer days of M’Dahz.
Gritting his teeth and frowning in concentration, Samir drew two weapons from his belt; utilitarian knives, rather than fighting blades, these were thick and strong. His tongue protruding slightly as he worked, it took only half a minute to dig out a chunk of the wall’s surface at waist height. Smiling, he made another hole at head height with equal ease.
Slowly, he began to climb, using his freshly-excavated hand holds and carving out new ones as he rose. In less than ten minutes, he reached up and for the first time his fingers touched the tile bonding-layers in the wall of the main building itself. With a smile, Samir hauled himself up to the layer and put his knives away carefully, clinging on to the narrow holds and trying not to look down.