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They hardly had time to notice Baxian at the gunner. They didn’t even manage to raise their rifles or summon a spark of magic before the Helhound unleashed a hundred rounds of bullets. With the angle of the down-ramp, they stood right in his line of fire.
Blood sprayed in a mist as Lidia sailed through them—the car bumping over their bodies with sickening thuds. She shattered the barrier.
They burst into the sunlight, but there was no relief. They were now in the middle of the city, with enemies all around. Ruhn couldn’t get a breath down.
A voice crackled over the radio—Declan Emmet’s voice. “Daybright, you read?”
Hot tears began to streak down Ruhn’s face.
Lidia shot the car down the long, wide stone bridge between the palace and the towering iron gates at its far end. Another guard station threatened ahead.
“Copy, Emmet,” Lidia said into the radio, wincing as she had to take the wheel with her bandaged arm. Whatever had happened to her had to be brutal if she was still in pain. Something in his chest twisted to think of it. “We’re approaching the bridge gates.”
“Camera feeds are wonky. We lost track of you in the elevator bay. All there?” Dec said.
“All here,” Lidia said, glancing at Ruhn.
“Thank fuck,” Dec said, and Ruhn choked on a sob. Then Dec said, “Camera’s showing twelve guards at the gate. Do not stop, Daybright. Go. I repeat, go, go, go.”
They sped toward the guard station, headed directly for the array of soldiers with guns aimed at them. They looked uncertain at the sight of the Hind driving the car. Everyone knew that to piss her off was to die.
“Lidia,” Baxian warned. There were too many to shoot at once, no matter how uncertain they were.
Lidia punched the jeep into the highest gear.
The nearest soldier—an angel—catapulted himself into the sky, aiming his rifle down at them. Athalar’s lightning sparked, a feeble attempt to halt the death about to come down.
But it was Baxian, unleashing the machine gun again, who downed the soldier. The angel’s wings flared as he plummeted, blood showering them in a ruby rain.
Lidia charged through the fray, ducking low as bullets flew. They careened through the barricade, wood exploding, the crystal palace of the Asteri looming behind them, a grim reminder of what they fled.
Then they were past the gates, splinters of wood still falling into the jeep as they cut hard down the nearest avenue. Tearing out of a nondescript alley, a white van fell in line with them, the sliding door open to reveal—
“Where the fuck is your hand?” Tristan Flynn shouted to Ruhn over the gunfire, a rifle at his shoulder. He fired behind them, again and again, and Baxian pivoted the gunner to the rear, unloading bullets onto the pursuing enemy.
Ruhn was well and truly crying then.
The van veered, and Flynn shouted, “Shit!” as it narrowly dodged a pedestrian—a draki female who shrieked, falling back against the wall of a building.
The radio crackled again, and a stranger’s voice filled it. “Daybright, we’re a go at Meridan.”
Another voice: “We’re a go at Alcene.”
Another: “Ready at Ravilis.”
On and on. Eleven locations total.
Then a soft female voice said, “This is Irithys. Set to ignite at the Eternal City.”
“What the fuck is happening, Lidia?” Hunt breathed. They raced through the narrow city streets, the van with Flynn falling into line behind them. Hunt grunted, “Those are all places on the Spine.”
Athalar was right: Every single city mentioned was a major depot along the vital railway that funneled imperial weapons to the front.
Lidia didn’t take her eyes off the road as she picked up the radio. “This is Daybright. Blast it to Hel, Irithys.”
Ruhn knew that name. He remembered the three sprites telling Bryce just a few weeks ago that their queen, Irithys, would want to hear of Lehabah’s bravery. The lost Queen of the Fire Sprites.
“Consider it done,” Irithys said.
