“Hey, what about me?” Quain asked.
“You’re second best, as always,” Loren said.
Quain drew breath to argue.
“Not the time for this, gentlemen,” Odd said.
Managing to get past two more barriers, we ran into bigger trouble at the sixth set of locked doors. We no longer had the element of surprise. No one answered our knocks. Shouts and screams echoed as guards arrived from other entrances, pinning us in.
A handful of armed women rushed to get between the guards and the unarmed penitents, forming two lines of defense on both sides of us. From here on out, we’d have to keep these lines so the others behind us could escape without harm. Quain yanked his lock picks from his pocket and knelt by the door.
Just as he popped the lock, it burst open, knocking him back. The guards who pushed through spotted the red robes and paused for a moment in confusion. It was all Odd and Fydelia needed. They pounced. More defenders waited on the other side of the doors and, even though a few of them moved as if drugged, it was a struggle to fight our way into the next hallway.
The number of guards increased as we broke through the seventh barrier. But the women would not be stopped. Determined, driven, and fierce, they filled the narrow space, sweeping away the opposition like raging flood waters.
Keeping Melina close, I stayed right behind Odd and the monkeys. The last set of doors led to the outside. And blocking our path to freedom were a dozen priests. Alert and prepared for battle with a long swords in each hand, they waited for us.
I wiped sweat from my face. Tired from using my powers, I blinked at the final obstacle, calculating our odds. I tucked Melina behind me. At least Jael wasn’t among them.
“Oh, hell, no,” Fydelia said. “They’re not stopping us.” She raised her bloody sword into the air. “For the girls!”
Repeated and shouted over and over, the cry rippled along the women. Time to get out of the way. I flattened my body against the wall, pushing Melina with my arm to do the same.
The women surged forward, intent on their targets. Steel clanged on steel, guttural growls mixed with higher-pitched shouts as they engaged in a fierce battle. No chance for me to dash and zap. This melee was primal. A desperate fight for survival. And their sheer numbers gave the women the advantage.
Odd and the monkeys stood in the thick of things. I gripped Melina’s hand, unable to tear my gaze away as an ache grew in my chest. Stabbed and sliced, women either stumbled back or collapsed in a heap. Others dragged them from harm then took their place.
Palming one of my knives, I aimed with care. Unexpected in the midst of the fight, my blade pierced a shoulder. The wounded priest lost his momentum and Quain pressed his advantage. With one quick strike, he buried his sword into his opponent’s stomach.
A queasy slush coated my throat. While I hadn’t made the killing blow, my actions had resulted in the man’s death. As a healer, it violated my purpose in life. As a penitent, it was a necessary evil.
Keeping the image of two thousand women on their knees in my mind, I aimed again. Odd and the monkeys battled their way to the doors with an impressive amount of skill. While Quain worked on the locks, the others protected him. I threw my remaining knives, helping them.
It seemed Quain moved in slow motion. Unable to just stand there any longer, I joined those assisting the casualties. Melina followed. More than a dozen had been injured. Blood splattered their robes, matted their hair, and dripped from cuts. I checked each one. A couple had already died. And a few would soon—their injuries fatal. And one young lady teetered on the borderline. The slight woman had been stabbed in the ribs and had a punctured lung. I could assume her injuries. But should I?
I glanced at Melina. She ripped strips of cloth from the bottom of her robe, making bandages. Mom would be proud.
A loud bang then a crack sounded. The fighters flinched, but when the fresh air swept in, erasing the odors of sweat and blood, it recharged the penitents. They doubled their efforts and the remaining warriors fell.
“Quick, this way,” Loren ordered.
They streamed out into the dark street with Quain in the lead. For each wounded lady, two friends supported her. Careful of her ribs, I pulled the borderline patient over my shoulder. Small and thin, she weighed almost nothing.
By the time I reached the street, Flea and Ives had joined Quain. The women pooled around them, drawing unwanted attention. I caught up to them.
“What are you waiting for?” I demanded.
“We’re trying to figure out another route through the tunnels,” Ives said. “With this many people, the one we lit will draw too much attention.”
“Stick with your original route. Staying hidden is no longer a priority.”
“We should make sure they all escape,” Quain said.
“They need to follow the lanterns. We set them this afternoon,” Flea said.
“Ives and Flea, take point,” I ordered. “Keep Melina with you. Odd, you and the monkeys stay with Fydelia and her team to ensure we assist as many women as possible.”
Melina protested, but I cut her off. “Go with Flea. I’ll catch up.”
“What about...?” She gestured to the injured girl.
“I’ve got her. Now go.”
They took off at a run and the women followed. I moved slower. But I encouraged those streaming past me to keep going. Turning left, we traveled through an alley for a couple blocks before entering the underground aqueducts. I gagged on the rotten smell. The splashing sound of hundreds of pairs of bare feet in the cold wet muck echoed throughout the stone tunnel. The noise alone would call every guard and priest down on us. The lanterns were spaced far enough apart to create little pockets of darkness, but close enough that those pockets only happened in straightaways.