City of Ruin - Mark Charan Newton [193]
Wait until clear, Brynd hand-signed back to her.
Lupus unstrapped his bow, extracted three arrows, nocked one into position while the others readied themselves with sabres and crossbows. Perceiving the world in bright shades following their enhancement, there was no one to be seen around this side of the target building. This peaceful ambience disturbed him, although there was no reason for the enemy to know they were coming.
Then something crossed his vision, at the far end of the street: four dogs appeared, and began barking loudly. He willed them to shut up, for their own sake, knowing what would now be expected of him.
Brynd shifted his gaze towards Lupus and signalled Kill.
Lupus aimed his bow towards the animals, as suddenly they began to bound towards the soldiers, closing the distance at an alarming pace. The first muzzle appearing in his sight, Lupus fired. Then he loaded-fired, loaded-fired, loaded-fired until all four dogs collapsed into the snow in rapid succession.
Good, Brynd hand-signed, but Lupus didn’t seem to think so.
A sign to follow, then they trotted past the corpses, Lupus pausing to recover the arrows.
At the broad intersection, there was nothing now between them and the rear of the warehouse. Glancing further along, Brynd spotted Night Guard huddled ready, their weapons glinting in the moonlight.
We wait for one other, Brynd signalled to them, meaning the monster.
And there she was, right on cue, scrambling over the rooftops towards them, an unnatural sight even in the most unnatural of circumstances. He watched in awe as she dropped herself to street level using some kind of self-produced cable. Brynd whistled three times and the towering creature scuttled next to him. Lupus instinctively raised his shield in front of him.
Brynd signalled to another group, then he jogged to a different position. By now, the Rumel Irregulars had arrived as backup, led by Lieutenant Jeryd. The ex-investigator nodded to him, acknowledging the situation. Brynd found he had to admire this tough old professional. A reassuring line of grey-skinned rumel stretched behind him, various wagons and carts visible among them. As Brynd returned, he gestured to the spider then whistled three times. In decreasing amplitude, the whistles were echoed into the distance.
The Night Guard crossed the intervening street with stealth, in one swift and fluid movement. Backs against the granite warehouse now, whose wall must have been a hundred yards in length. Reeking of marine odours, the place had probably been used as a fish storage facility and just how many hostages could fit inside it was anyone’s guess.
A look to the left, the right, up, across and down.
Then along the street the rest of the Night Guard came stepping lightly through the snow.
Brynd had placed an ear against the wall, making the most of his heightened sense of hearing: indistinct shuffling – could have been rats – and a groaning, like some painful lament.
Was that them?
The spider lumbered across his path and skittered up the wall. The soldiers gaped as they watched her climb then flip directly onto the roof.
Another hand signal, a further change in position, this time further along the wall in search of the suspected points of entry. The Rumel Irregulars came through the snow to draw up behind. Jeryd stood at the front with his crossbow at the ready, one hand held out to urge caution. Their silent approach was matched by the eerie calm of the war-torn city at night.
Brynd located a suitable entry point, signalled for them to follow, whistled sharply to those further along the wall. The metal door was slung open, Brynd’s small group began to enter. With bow nocked, Lupus was just about