'No, warrior. We need to slaughter them. Don't worry, fighting in concert, we'll manage easily.'
Nular frowned. 'Maybe we would, but I'm hoping it won't be necessary.'
'It already is. The rabble's impudence is an affront to my masters and must be punished accordingly.'
'Do your masters understand that the unrest isn't just happening here? The 'rabble' have taken to the streets across the city. If we kill people, the violence could spread and spread. We could end up with a riot far worse than those we've endured already.'
The demon shrugged. 'That's nothing to me. My masters command, and I obey. Are you not obliged to obey Red Wizards, also?'
Nular hesitated. 'Yes, but you're not one. If we're going to do this, I at least need to hear the order from one of the conjurors.' He started to walk around the creature toward the house.
The spirit shifted so as to remain directly in front of him. 'That isn't necessary,' it said, and its crimson eyes flared brighter.
Nular rocked backward as though something had struck him a blow. He felt bewildered, as if he'd just awakened from a dream so vivid that he couldn't be certain what was real.
Then he caught his balance, and his confusion passed. Or partly so. 'What… what were we saying?' he asked.
'That we're going to kill the rebels.'
'Yes.' That sounded right, or at least familiar. 'Swords!'
A couple of his men-the clever ones, who might rise from the ranks one day-eyed him dubiously, but they were all well trained and exchanged their truncheons for their blades without protest. He did the same.
'Now forward!' Nular shouted. 'Keep the line and cut the bastards down.'
The mob might have had the stomach for a fight with a dozen legionnaires, but legionnaires and an ogre- sized demon were a more daunting prospect. They screamed and tried to run, but their numbers were such that they got in each other's way. The ones closest to their attackers couldn't evade the soldiers' swords and the creature's fangs and talons, and thus they had no choice but to turn again and fight.
It was all right though. The soldiers' training, armor, and superior weapons aided them, of course, but it was the demon's ferocity that truly rendered the mob's numerical advantage inconsequential. Striking quickly as a cat, ripping men to pieces with every blow, the spirit butchered more foes than all its human allies put together, until a rioter charged it from behind and buried an axe in its back. Whereupon the demon screamed, collapsed to its knees, then melted away to nothing at all. Nular could scarcely believe that a creature, which had seemed the very embodiment of inhuman might, could perish so easily, but evidently it was so.
'I killed it!' yelled the axeman, brandishing his gory weapon. 'I killed it!' His comrades roared in triumph then hurled themselves at the legionnaires with renewed savagery.
With the fiend gone and rioters circling to get behind their remaining adversaries, the advancing line wasn't viable anymore.
The legionnaires needed a formation that would enable them to guard each other's backs.
'Square!' Nular bellowed. 'Square!'
But they couldn't form one. The enemies swarming on them from every side, grabbing and beating at them, made it impossible to maneuver. Pivoting, fighting with his sword in one hand and his cudgel in the other, Nular realized the press had suddenly grown so thick that he couldn't even see his men anymore, just hear the clangor of their opponents' blows pounding on their shields.
That clashing noise diminished as, no doubt, the legionnaires fell one by one. Something smashed or cut into Nular's knee, and he dropped too. His injured leg ablaze with pain, he glimpsed men running toward the conjurors' chapter house, then a burly laborer lifted a shovel high and plunged the edge down at his throat.
At first, Faurgar Stayanoga thought, it had made sense. They'd take to the streets as the priest in the alehouse had urged, and when the zulkirs saw how many they were, and how displeased, they'd have to rethink their decision.
More than that, it had been fun. Intoxicating. His whole life, Faurgar had walked warily in the presence of Red Wizards, legionnaires, or any Mulan really, but tonight, roaming the streets with hundreds like himself, he hadn't been afraid of anyone. They'd all said whatever they wanted as loud as they wanted. Defaced, smashed, and torched whatever they wanted. Broken into shops and taverns and taken whatever they wanted.
But he was scared, because the legions had turned out in force to deal with the disturbance, and he and his friends were trapped, with blood orcs advancing from one side and human warriors from the other. The orcs leered and howled their piercing battle cries. The men strode quietly, with faces like stone, but despite their differing attitudes, both companies looked entirely ready to kill.
Faurgar looked up and down the street and found nowhere to run. Some of his companions pounded on doors, but no one would open to them. Evidently hoping the legionnaires would spare the lives of any who surrendered, others raised their hands or dropped to their knees. The rest, defiant still, brandished the knives and tools that were all they possessed in the way of weapons.
Faurgar simply stood, mouth dry, heart pounding, uncertain of what he ought to do. It didn't look to him as if the guards intended to spare anyone, and if so, it seemed better to go down fighting. But if he was wrong, if there was even the slightest chance of surviving…
By the Great Flame, how had he come to this? He was the son of respectable parents and a journeyman mason. He didn't belong in the middle of this nightmare.
The orcs reached the first kneeling man. Steel flashed, blood spurted, and the penitent collapsed to flop and twitch like a fish out of water. Soldiers trampled him as they continued to advance.
All right, thought Faurgar, now we know for certain that they mean to kill us all. So fight! But he didn't know if he could. Tears were blurring his vision, and even if they hadn't been, the urge to cringe was so strong that he could hardly bear even to look at the warriors. How, then, could he possibly strike a blow?
As if too full of bloodlust to permit their human comrades an equal share in the killing, the orcs abruptly screamed and charged. One ran straight at Faurgar.
Fight! he told himself, but when he tried to raise his trowel, his hand shook so badly that he dropped it. Knowing it was craven and useless, but powerless to control himself, he crouched and shielded his torso and face with his arms.
And as if the Storm Lord were responding to the spectacle of his wretchedness, the night burned white. Prodigious booms shook the earth, and torrents of frigid rain hammered down, ringing on the legionnaires' armor and drumming on everything else.
The legionnaires faltered in shock. Barely audible over the thunder and the downpour, the commander of the orcs bellowed at his troops. Faurgar couldn't speak their language, but he had a fair idea of what the gray-skinned creature was saying: It's only rain! Go on and kill the rabble as I ordered you to!
The orcs moved to obey, then a flare of lightning struck a peaked rooftop on the right-hand side of the street. The flash was blinding, the crash loud enough to jab pain into Faurgar's ears, and everyone froze once more.
One of the human soldiers shouted and pointed. Blinking, Faurgar reflexively glanced to see what had caught the legionnaire's attention. He expected to observe that the thunderbolt had set the shingled roof on fire, but it wasn't so. Rather, a tall, thin man in a red robe stood in the middle of the charred and blackened place where the lightning had struck, as if he'd ridden the bolt down from the sky.
'That's Szass Tam!' someone exclaimed, and certainly the guards were coming to attention and saluting. Faurgar and his fellows knelt.
The lich's dark gaze raked over them all, warrior and cornered troublemaker alike. 'This won't do,' he said. He seemed to speak without raising his voice, yet despite the din of the storm, Faurgar could hear him clearly from yards away.
'Unlike some,' Szass Tam continued, 'I'm not eager to see Thayan soldiers slaughtering Thayan citizens, not as long as there's any hope of avoiding it. Accordingly, you legionnaires will give these people one last chance to disperse and retire to their homes in peace.'
'Yes, Your Omnipotence!' the commander of the human guards shouted.
'And you citizens,' the necromancer said, 'will do precisely that. I understand that you've behaved as you have out of concern for the realm, and to that degree, your patriotism does you credit, but you can't accomplish anything by damaging your own city and compelling the guards to take harsh action against you. I promise a better
