Asunder: A Gathering of Chaos Cameron Hopkin (read a book txt) 📖

club, stared hard at them as they went. Ten steps later, they heard his voice carry down the hall after them. “Hey!” Neither of them acknowledged the hail.

“Hey, you in the black!” The guard’s voice was louder, insistent.

Another hundred steps would have them to the main ramp leading out. “Don’t stop,” she said in a low voice. Gamarron gave a subtle roll of the eyes that she did not miss. “Shut up,” she hissed.

“Black robe, stop where you are!” The guard was shouting now, and the shake in his voice indicated that he was following them at a run. Glancing back, she saw bystanders jumping out of the big man’s way. His club was out, and he was jogging in their direction. He was perhaps a hundred and fifty paces back. Only seventy to the exit.

“Run,” she snapped, and they broke for the well of light ahead of them. The main entryway was clogged with townsfolk pressing for the exit, and the roar from the arena was becoming deafening as they neared. More shouts came from behind and melded into the cacophony.

“Move! Move!” Renna screamed at the herding throng bunched around the vomitorium. A few glanced her way at the command, but most were fixated on the exit, pushing and shoving as if their lives depended on leaving right that instant.

As she wedged herself between two dirty commoners and shoved forward with all her might, a glance backward showed her that their lives might indeed depend upon it: the arena was in full riot. She couldn’t see down to the floor of the Coliseum, but the stands directly opposite her were awash in flame. They’re made of stone! What did they set on fire? In every direction, men grappled with one another, and there were more than a few bloody brows and split lips among those seeking to escape. Screams of rage and pain echoed from the arena, and the acoustics of the hallway made the noises into a hellish din that made her ears want to bleed. Time to be gone!

Gamarron was slipping through the crowd as if greased, and Renna pushed through in his wake. Harsh afternoon sunlight made her blink as they left the shadow of the entryway, but still they were hemmed in by shuffling idiots. Renna clutched her precious bag close and elbowed her way forward right up until the moment she felt a tremendous shove from behind knock her aside. “Hey!” she protested – and then she saw the persistent guard pushing toward Gamarron. Two strides later, the beefy man reached out for the fleeing savage and caught the peaked tip of his hood, yanking it back before losing hold of the cloth. Surprised and exposed, the old monk looked back at his assailant.

That was a mistake. Had he kept his head down and run, he might have made it. As it was, every head nearby swiveled toward him as the passersby looked instinctively to the person the guard had been chasing.

“It’s the savage!” shouted someone. “He’s not dead!”

“Cheating bastards!” screamed another.

Stretched near to breaking by the violence they were fleeing, the crowd snapped in an instant. Gamarron disappeared under a pile of bodies, screams and curses filling the air.

Renna ran.

There was no thought involved, merely an animal need to escape the claustrophobic confines of the throng. The guard was swept up in the melee, and the swirling nexus of the mob moved away from her as she pelted down the bridge and into the confusing welter of walkways of the Commerce district. City watchmen were running toward the fray, but they paid her no attention – she was hardly the only one fleeing.

Once she was at a safe distance, she turned around to look for Gamarron. The entire length of the Coliseum bridge was a swarming mess of senseless fights and terrified victims. Finding one man in that was hopeless, even if she’d had the courage and strength to wade back in. What do I do? I can’t just leave him to be crushed! Men and women were jumping from the bridge, preferring to take their chances with the sharks and hatchling sea serpents of the river mouth rather than fight their way clear. Given the choice, Renna thought she might have done the same. The entire arena seemed to have gone mad.

“Shall we go, then?” came a voice at her elbow. Jerking away in surprise, she found herself face to face with Gamarron, who looked no worse for wear than before – though he had his hood back on.

“What…!” started Renna, but she pulled herself up short. I won’t give him the satisfaction. I don’t care how he did it. “Yes,” she replied with something that faintly resembled calm. “Let’s.”

The journey uphill to the Atrillmer manse was blessedly uneventful once they left the insanity at the Coliseum behind. Renna wasn’t about to ask any questions of the man that might leave her looking stupid or uninformed, and she had nothing else she felt like saying. For his part, Gamarron seemed content to walk in silence. Once they had put some distance behind them, he threw back his hood, the need for hiding past. His face was drawn and pale, but he did not grimace in pain or seem short of breath as one would expect after having received so grave a wound. How can you move your heart? Where do you put it? How long does it take? Have you put it back yet? Does it hurt? She pressed her lips together. It wasn’t important.

“I hope the young ones have had an easier time of it than we,” remarked the savage as they approached the grand manse of the Atrillmer family.

“They couldn’t have had a harder one,” she retorted. “All they had to do was slip a pretty girl into bed with a horny, drunken idiot and sprinkle some sleeping powder on him. Hardly complicated. Even that hopeless country girl could do it.” The gates of the manse came into view, but