The horses rounded the opposite corner a moment later.
Ryl scanned the area, dipping into the speed as he charged down the avenue. Several demons had separated from the black mass that still dominated the view of his mindsight. They were still further to the west, clogging the Kingsway with their blackened bodies. Several separated from the host, travelling up the side alleys. He’d need to be quick. Whether through design or luck, the few that cut through the side streets would likely flank him.
If they got past him into The Stocks, the devastation would be extreme.
The blackened body of the Horde abandoned the still body of its prey, lunging as the first of the riders passed by. The soldier’s sword swung harmlessly overhead. He was unprepared for the fleet enemy that fell upon his exposed side. He and his horse crashed to the ground, sliding across the pavement. The beast on their side tore off lethal chunks of flesh as they skidded to a stop. The harrier shrieked as his hold was dislodged as they careened into the building along the opposite corner of the intersection. The lantern hanging from the building above swung back and forth, disturbed by the jarring knock.
A focused blast of wind from Ryl’s arm sent the demon toppling backward. Its light, swift body careened into the stone foundation of the building on the corner behind it. There was a sickening snap as its frame reached an abrupt, violent stop. Its head snapped backward, smashing into the stone base of the building, leaving a blackened stain of blood as it slumped to the ground.
No investigation was needed to find life in either the woman or the guard who’d fallen prey to the lethal harrier. Blood pooled on the stones around the mangled bodies. The horse, blooded and fatally wounded in the attack, flailed wildly as it stumbled to its feet.
“Ride now. The gates are closing,” Ryl yelled at the guards who’d wheeled their horses in defense of their fallen comrade.
He whipped his head around to the west. A trio of harriers shrieked, their unfiltered rage leading the charge as they bore down on his position. His stomach lurched as his eyes witnessed the front of the blackened mass he’d viewed only in his mindsight. Thousands had crossed the river, yet Ryl knew countless more remained on the opposite side.
The agony in his left arm continued to mount. He had yet to contemplate the peculiar happenings in the courtyard before the Estates. Ryl gritted his teeth as he hardened the woodskin over the appendage, hoping to alleviate at least some of the discomfort. The effect was mild compared to the pain, yet he welcomed any relief.
The Horde approaching from the west were less than one hundred meters from his position. He could see with his mindsight, several small groups, no more than two or three each, branching off at each of the smaller alleys. Screams of fear ending in harrowing cries of pain rippled through the city.
Ryl knew he could easily dispatch the small group approaching, yet his concern centered on the secondary groups sneaking around their flank. The alexen in his blood begged him to flee. His mind pondered the value of ending the lives of the closest. How many could he save if he was to cut them down now?
It was the urging from the alexen and the common sense of the matter that won out in the end. Casting a final snarl at the incoming Horde, he turned back up the northern avenue. He could see the guards on the palisade and the few remaining in the square frantically urging the few remaining stragglers onward. The horses and riders stormed past, disappearing into the shadows under the gate.
Ryl sprinted up the avenue, all the while keeping his phrenic senses locked on the positions of the Horde, who were now dispersing themselves across the city. There were several groups who appeared to hasten in his direction, eager to cut off his retreat. He slowed as he reached the last of the citizens escaping from the doomed city.
The final pair were much older than him. They carried nothing with them save the walking sticks that aided both of their steps. The pair were dressed in apparel more suited for sleeping. They looked at him with fear in their eyes as they scrambled up the cobblestone alley toward the Pining Gates.
Ryl positioned his body to the west of them, guiding the pair to the eastern side of the road. The Horde were getting close. The scratching of their jagged claws on the stone echoed through the shadows of the darkened alley they just passed.
Unlike others he’d faced before, the pair that lunged at him from the shadows voiced battle cries as they attacked. He’d tracked them with his mindsight. Though he feigned ignorance for their benefit, he was prepared for their assault. The moment their blackened bodies cleared the shadows of the alley, he met their charge. The Horde had made the calculated decision to leap, to crush him from above. Likely fearing the lethal blades that remained passively angled toward the ground, they’d relied on the darkness to disguise their approach.
The speed flowed through his veins as he sidestepped up the avenue. The closest harrier attempted to alter its trajectory, yet its actions amounted to nothing more than an awkward struggling in the air. As its head and shoulders passed, Ryl swung upward with his left arm. The burning blade hissed as it passed through the skinny body of the lanky demon with little resistance, severing the body in two.
