Warsinger by James Baldwin (most inspirational books TXT) 📗

After taking a moment to preen under her hook-arm, she put her nose down, sniffing deeply. Then, she growled, wheeled around, and stalked purposefully toward the east.

We followed her through a half-hidden gate, pausing only as another explosive concussion went off under us and the ground rolled beneath our feet. Bricks and sand tumbled down, and as we ran through it all, it became apparent that this upper fortress was actually little more than a gutted shell. The building I'd mistaken for a secondary Keep was actually a massive gatehouse, which housed a double portcullis blocking the entrance to a sloped tunnel plunging down into the earth beneath the fortress - the entry to Al-Asad. That tunnel was currently plugged up by a knot of shouting, violently terrified men and women trapped on the other side. Guards and prisoners beat on the steel gateway with fists, truncheons, rocks, shivs, anything and everything that came to hand. They were crawling over each other like drowning rats in a bucket, heedless of the building crush behind them.

“AMNI BAHAR DU!”a guard shrieked in Dakhari through the gate as we drew up in front of it. “Mai minata karadi!”

He nearly sobbed the last phrase as cries of 'Amni bahar du!' rang out from fifty desperate mouths. I didn't need to speak Dakhari to get the gist.

“Fuck. Tidbit, grab Cutthroat and get to the side.” I searched the gateway, looking for some way to open it. The crush built to a fever pitch as I ranged back and forth.

“Nara!” The guard's teeth and eyes flashed as he jabbed up toward the ceiling.

I looked up. There were arrow slits above the gate - which meant there was a space behind it. “Okay, hang on!”

The overwhelming majority of portcullises weren't meant to be opened from the outside, but this one wasn't made to keep invaders out - it was made to keep prisoners in. I ran up a narrow flight of stairs and found a hatch into the winch room. My HUD automatically highlighted the wheels to turn each of the portcullises, holographic arrows twisting to the left and pulsing to indicate the required tempo.

I opened the outer gate first, which was fairly easy. The inner gate was much harder, the arrow flashing randomly as the crowd surged and retreated against the barrier. I screwed up a couple of times, and the weight of the people clawing at the iron dragged the door back down to howls of protest. I wasn't even halfway done when the stampede began. Once it was up, I sprinted outside to see people pouring out and fleeing in every direction. Karalti and Cutthroat had shrunk back toward the stairwell, where the hookwing snapped and snarled at anyone who passed by too close.

[You’re a life-saver! You gain 300 EXP!]

“Hold her!” I ducked around Cutthroat, looking for anyone who might share a language with me. It was wall-to-wall Dakhari, many of them with the same red hair, dark skin, and golden eyes as Suri. Frustrated, I grabbed a tall, skinny guardsman as he ran by me. “Hey! Do you speak Common? Vlachian? Can you understand me?”

He snarled something in his own language, and tried to shove me away. I kept a hold of him, wracking my brains for how to communicate, when I remembered. My eyes narrowed. “Lahvan! Come here and grill this guy! What the hell is going on down there?”

One of the shadows pulled away from the wall, and he froze, bug-eyed and uncomprehending. Then it spoke to him in Dakhari. The guard turned an interesting green-brown color, sagging in my grip. Lahvan repeated what he said, and the man gibbered something back as the shade listened.

“He sayssss...” the undead whispered, “that the Wardens are barricaded in the administrative wing of the prison. That there was a riot, and the Wardens detonated magical explosives to try and destroy the armed prisoners. He says the explosives summoned something terrible.”

“The Wardens? They have to be the admins who uploaded Suri to Archemi.” I glanced back at Karalti, who was watching us intently from beside Cutthroat. “Did the explosives pull down the castle?”

“No. They caught the attention of the Queen of the Sands,” Lahvan hissed. “The elder sandworm who created this desert.”

I scowled down at the guard, who was almost paralyzed with terror. “Okay, shorty - I'm looking for a woman. Her name is Suri. Have you seen her?”

The guardsman didn't understand what I said, but he recognized Suri's name. Before Lahvan could even translate, the guy began babbling again. The shadow hovered patiently, and when he was done, Lahvan asked my question. “He says this is her fault. The woman named Suri sought revenge on the Wardens and the guards. It is she he fears… she led the prisoners in rebellion after being pulled from her cell in the Dregs.”

Pulled from her cell? I swallowed a small spike of panic. “Where is the Admin Wing?”

“You must go down to the second floor, then pass through the guard station on the left,” Lahvan translated.

“Which means it’s under the fucking cistern. Of course.” I shoved the guard away from me, and he stumbled before running off into the thinning crowd of evacuees. “Come on, Karalti! Let's move!”

“Get on Cutthroat!” Karalti vaulted up onto the hookwing's back, taking the reins. “I'll drive - you need to have both hands free for the Spear in case we need to fight!”

Chapter 8

The tunnel down to Al-Asad was wide enough for a wagon to pass through, and tall enough that I could stand on Cutthroat's back. I crouched on her hindquarters with the Spear held low, knees loose, gripping Karalti's shoulder for balance. The hookwing charged down into the depths of the prison, dodging the people fleeing toward the light.

We seemed to go down forever, well beyond the boundary of the fortress walls. Somehow, Cutthroat knew where she was headed: with her head down and her tail held rigidly behind her, she sprinted, weaving and dodging around escaped prisoners