Rabb moved fast through the barracks, his eyes everywhere and his mind a whip of decisions and commands. He barked at his soldiers that were dressing slowly and threw equipment at them when they lingered in his way.

Stepping into the daylight of the courtyard, most of his men were assembled, the knights were getting organized for their mounts and groomsmen and batmen ran every direction. He turned to face them, stopping only briefly to take his armoured gloves and helmet from Camden and stuff them under his arm. He took a steadying breath and eyed them all evenly.

“We are evacuating the city,” he announced and the assembly shifted and moved in shock and surprise. “I have it on very good authority that an invading force is headed this way, and they’ve made deals with the barons to let them in. We will be outnumbered to defend the innocent, and until General Lord Hayden can get here, there is no fighting that will accomplish any difference. We need to spread the word, cover as much of the city as we can, we have likely twenty-four hours for people to leave. After that?” he stopped and took another deep breath that lifted his chin and squared his shoulders.

The soldiers and the knights shifted and mumbled to each other. Rabb gave them a moment for it to sink in. He saw Camden exit the building and make quickly and directly for him. He handed him a paper and stood to the side. Rabb turned the paper around and read the dispatch;

As requested, Lord General Hayden arrives at the head of the general armies, will be at Divik highlands by weeks’ end. Orders for Divik regiment are to coordinate and assemble under General Hayden’s command immediately upon his arrival. King River of Rogun has been kidnapped by forces unknown, current whereabouts; unknown. Any intelligence regarding word or whereabouts are to be sent via messenger bird to His Highness, Regent Patrick at the capital, as soon as possible. Her Majesty, Queen Nyssa is being located and will respond with details to follow.

“Winds,” he murmured under his breath. The prince? King, rather, but still Prince River was his own, always would be. He was missing now? From Rogun?

Rabb’s hand shook where he held the paper, but his eyes lost focus on the cobblestone while his mind churned over everything a mile a second.

Rogun? All of this has something to do with Rogun? How? Why?

“He’s coming here…” he whispered and looked back to the paper to read it again.

“Sir?” Camden asked when he’d finally heard his commander speak out loud. Rabb turned to him sharply. He shoved the letter at him and waved it.

“River, he’s coming here. They’ll bring him here, it’s why they want the queen this way. It’s why their tossing Divik over! It’s a trap!” Camden blinked at him.

Rabb growled and moved to leave but then remembered his assembled.

“Get them out! Get them out as fast as possible, don’t let anyone pack, we’re out of time! Get them out!” he hollered at them and took off at a run himself. The clean lines of soldiers broke and the mounted captains started barking orders. Groups broke off and everyone started running out of the barracks gates and streaming into the city.

---

By nightfall, fire smoke filled the air, trails of it lifted lazily in the windless, blood-red sky above the rooftops. His troops had done a good job of creating panic, rousting the populace to believe the danger was real, but in the end it had taken nearly all day before Rabb had started to see a steady, reliable stream of citizens leaving. Urging people to leave everything they had, knowing without question it would be ransacked and stolen the moment they left it unattended was a difficult choice, he sympathized with that. But what promised to overtake them, Rabb feared wouldn’t be worth it. It eluded to be nothing like any turf war they’d ever seen and he knew that was what they were imagining. Most had paid protection from this or that baron and were relying on that arrangement now, but Rabb had ensured his soldiers would be making it clear, all bets were off and even the barons were not impervious to what was coming.

He sat on his horse, tired to the bone, watching the smaller coastal road gate and the long line of people leaving on foot and leading draft horses with wagons piled high. The coast road led to the outlying fishing villages and snaked along the eastern coastline, southbound, until it veered sharply away from the impassable cliffs to join the interior Queen’s Highway. There it joined up with any and all traffic that led north from the capital. Whether they stopped at the villages or pushed through further south, Rabb was at least confident they would be on their way to a better life than what they were leaving behind.

Rabb heard a horse huffing and his hooves clomping on the packed earth behind him and he turned to see his second, Sir Granby making his way up the small raised hill. He nodded to him.

“Main gate is moving well, Sir,” he reported to him. “Wider and better highway, the traffic is mostly horse drawn or mounted,” he added and Rabb sighed deeply but was already back to surveying the smaller route. He cleared his throat and acknowledged him.

“How much longer do you figure? Any word from Captain Fett?” he asked. The second knight was in charge of the troops making the house-to-house evacuation orders for each burrow.

“He says each burrow has had two warnings so far,” Granby reported, “they will continue into the night for two more sweeps.”

Rabb could only nod and admit that they would not stop their sweeps until the violence was upon them. Then they would need his last man to defend the fools that lagged behind. Winds, he hoped Hayden would arrive soon.

“And the scouts?” he asked then, almost willing his question to produce the answer he wanted.

Granby shifted in his saddle, the leather groaning. His horse chewed his bit and it clattered a bit against his teeth.

“They are spread as far as North Cross and along the highway as far as they can get since this morning,” Granby assured him. “No word yet, Sir, but undoubtedly Colonel Remi is now made aware.”

Rabb nodded to hear it. Colonel Remi was the commander at North Cross, an Elite like himself and he had twenty good knights and fifty more soldiers at his call. He would rally them and come. Two days, Rabb knew. It would take two days before Remi could relieve them.

“He’s coming. Hayden will be here,” Rabb told him additionally and confidence bolstered his voice.

Granby, sitting behind him, could only watch his commander in the silhouette of the firelight coming from the torches and street lights below. He looked tired but bent on winning. He was determined Divik wouldn’t take its citizens with it, the fall, well, Granby had always known it was coming.

He looked back towards the city, now mostly empty and not surprisingly dishevelled. Refuse was scattered all over the streets, furniture and personal belongs, items that didn’t fit the cart or wagons were left where they were discarded outside of the homes or businesses. Fires burned in small patches, lanterns or hearths left unattended, some purposely lit to hide secrets that couldn’t be carried. All out fire could consume the city now and no one would come to its rescue. It was a sobering thought, Granby considered; an engulfing fire played in his mind’s eye. He wanted to leave just as much as the rest of them.

Granby knew the only residents that would remain were the ones that hadn’t moved at all to heed Rabb’s warning; the baron’s people. Either through arrogance or design, Granby wasn’t sure, but Rabb seemed pretty confident that whatever was coming may have bought their way in with them, but it certainly wasn’t expecting to make good on their delivery.

The enemy at their door was coming for all of them.

---

Krug stood at the corner of the warehouse roof, Kal behind him. Aligned in the alley below were ten of his men, with ten more hidden along the docks in various intervals. Malta had sent these men ahead of him as gradually as he could and twenty was what he’d arrived to, but Krug stood now to watch his ally’s ships arrive. On board were a hundred more men Malta had convinced to join them. More than enough for the rabble that remained in the city. The grand plan was about to unfold.

The first ship slipped near silently into its berth and no one made a fuss about it. The lantern with its glass panes painted red – the secret signal – appeared on the bow, and waved about in full view. Krug crouched to lean on one knee and watched the first group of his men from the docks move to help secure lines and help the ship to dock. Seconds later, the second and third ships arrived and repeated the exact process. Three red burning lanterns swung lightly from the bows; he grinned in satisfaction.

Turning, he tapped Kal in the arm that he follow. They made their way quickly off the roof and down to the gantry beams to climb down. Landing hard on the ground a few minutes later, Krug stood up smoothly and shook his jacket to settle it. He looked up the alley and back again, seeing no one.

Kal landed heavily behind him but said nothing and waited.

“Get your men, kill the knights. Meet me at the blockhouse when you’re ready,” Krug said very low to him and the bigger man nodded stiffly and turned immediately to meet his newly arrived crew.

He watched his man disappear around the corner, and turned himself to go the other way, moving to walk closer to the wall deepest in shadow. They had cleared most of the people, but not the barons. There were still obstacles on his list to take care of.

After moving through several dirty alleyway’s, Krug arrived at the back of a dingy pub. He knocked three times, waited and knocked once more. When the peep slot opened, he glared at the pair of eyes that saw him there. Immediately the door swung open.

“Master Krug,” the young man said to him, his shoulders bent even without the bow he offered him. “This way please.” Krug sniffed but followed the short man ahead and through the very narrow, nearly black hallway. At the end, the hallway instantly disappeared into a massive and brightly lit, two-story parlour. Chandeliers burned brightly, bottles littered the counters and tables and in the far corner a table heaped with food lay waiting.

“Ah, Krug!” Droga drawled and lithely lifted himself from the tangle he’d been in with his boyfriend on a massive cushioned divan. His boyfriend eyed Krug warily, his expression unfriendly but he held back any comment, including any greeting, and slipped slowly from his shallow champagne glass.

Krug sneered at the man and looked around the room to eye Tatiana now. Bane held his wife securely on his lap, likewise on an overstuffed divan. She wasn’t so quick to welcome but she nodded in his direction. Krug had to stop from grinning at them. He knew they felt secure and superior at this very moment, believing their survival secured in the ship they’d maintained and hidden from the rest as a precaution. What they didn’t know was Krug had removed that ship, and it sailed away now, under the authority of the pirate that loved Rogun rum and gold.

“Come, friend, join us,” Droga went on and he lifted a glass to come forward and hand it to him. Krug waited for it and took it when he got close. Droga lifted the glass and looked between them all.

“To our new beginning!” he said and Krug saw the sweat on his temple. In fact, Droga didn’t look like he was feeling all that well.

Krug smiled and lifted the glass.

Only a small scream shattered the silence. The three men that appeared from the shadows of the room were quick enough and synched to draw blades against the throats of the three sitting down before any of them even registered what was happening.

Krug downed the entire glass of whatever Droga had offered him and it ballooned his cheeks before he swallowed. His eyes stayed on Droga’s shocked and now dead face where his dagger stuck from his temple. Still standing, he twitched until his eyes fell dead and Krug tipped the blade so he slid off.

Krug looked around the room with a satisfied grin.

“Great party!” he yelled loudly and threw his glass wide from his arms so it shattered against the wall behind him.

---

Rabb fell hard against the wall. He worked to get his breathing under control, the climb over the barrack’s roof and down, fast through the alley to get back to the blockhouse had probably been the fastest he’d ever run in his life.

It was maybe an hour to sunrise, but Camden had come for him early, panic in his face and voice. The knights had been set upon in the night, four of the six had been killed in their racks. The remaining two had gained ground on their attackers and managed to overtake those they could catch. Eight assailants lay dead in the barracks and Rabb had no explanation and no more reason to stay.

After sending Camden back with the order to abandon the city by way of the interior road, Rabb had made a run for the command centre and whatever he could salvage of the situation. Anything to buy his men and any civilians waking up to the reality that they were completely under attack more time. He also needed to get word to Hayden not to shoot them coming out of the gate.

The General had arrived early in the second day of the evacuation. Word had gotten to him that the stream of civilians was an exodus and that the situation was more dire than he’d been led to believe. Soldiers had come forward to help those fleeing, moving them along, carrying things and loading them into bigger wagons to get them out of the way quickly but when reinforcements tried to enter, a mysterious rebel army engaged them at the gate and took over control of the protcullis. Rabb had watched this from the tower parapet, signalling his brethren below, but he’d chosen to stay to the last man. He was the only one on inside who could direct things and communicate with them.

He was the last man now.

Shouts erupted behind him in the courtyard, so he quickened his pace up the stairs. He needed to get to his quarters, find his papers and escape out the secret wall door that was hidden beside the draw bridge gate.

He burst into his rooms and ran for the files in the boxes on his desk. There was so much, he fumbled and the papers slipped and slid in his rush. Sweat burned his eyes, the lanterns in the room were low and not enough light was given to allow him a thorough search.

“Clear the officers quarters!” a voice roared from the hallway.

Rabb’s eyes darted fast around the room. He was in a fortress, impenetrable to the outside which meant not so escapable from the inside.

Throwing the satchel closed on what he hoped was enough, he turned the lantern over and lit the rest of the paperwork on fire. The papers caught fast and soon the entire desk licked up to the ceiling, the fire eating the fuel of paper and oxygen hungrily. Rabb kicked the legs out for good measure and the contents and desk went smashing against his bedding and lit the covers and drapes. He turned and ran down the very narrow service hall towards the outside wall causeway.

Shouts and clashing steel on steel met his ears at the same time as his eyes saw the velvet blue of the night sky at the doorway to the outside. He emerged, his stuffed satchel under his arms. He felt a fool to be wielding it instead of his sword, he was a knight for winds sake! Determined what he held was far more valuable he ducked a fighting duo and ran for the opposite end of the walkway and the very discreet staircase there.

When he met the staircase, he saw the security gate and nearly howled in frustration that it was locked. He turned in time to see an assailant aiming for him. Wild eyes and violence glared at him and slowly the man came towards him. Rabb swore, threw the satchel aside and drew his short blade

---

Stragen shifted his body to ease the cramping of his left side. He’d been holding in a culvert outside the entertainment burrow for the last four or five hours. Too many of Krug’s men kept the district in strict control and he hadn’t seen a solider of Rabb’s regiment since before he’d gone to The Silk Lounge to find Sophia nearly two days before.

He huffed and tried not to breathe too deeply. Raw sewage floated past in the culvert trench at his feet. It reminded him of Krug and whatever he was made of. Whatever made him poison his daughter away from him.

Sophia had refused to escape with him. At the first sign Krug had business to attend to, and he’d taken that animal Kal with him, Stragen had chanced to speak to her. To his utter shock and dismay, she’d hissed at him, spat evil words and railed at him for his injustice and overbearing ways. Krug had promised her freedom, she would stay with him.

Stragen hadn’t been sure she’d been aware she’d been tied to the furniture, half naked and fed mind-melting opiates nearly every hour, but there was no way he could carry her out of there. She was making too much noise even complaining about him. There was no remorse, no regret and she was coherent enough to answer his questions and insult him. Repeatedly. When he’d pleaded with her to remember Swan, she’d turned from him to face the wall.

“She’s what you want in a girl, you’re not what I want in a Daddy,” she’d spat him.

Stragen had broken his bonds, looked at his daughter one last time and left.

Getting back to the estate was his only priority. He prayed Moira had heeded his words and packed for her and Swan and that the carriages were ready, but likely there would be chaos, he’d been gone too long. No matter, they’d hurry and leave on horseback if they had to. He’d seen the refugees streaming from the city. He’d disguise them and blend in.

“Finally!” he whispered when his eyes saw the grunt sentries leaving a gap in the alleyway. Like a rabbit, he bolted from the culvert and crossed the cobblestone to exit the burrow. Outside, he’d found a tavern and a few horses tied at the rack. Quickly he took one, hopped to mount and within seconds was flogging it to get away.

The road to the estate was usually twenty minutes from the edge of the city. Filled with debris and straggling residents, Stragen had to slow and thread his way through, careful not to make extra noise or draw attention to anyone loyal to Krug and that might know him. It took an excruciating hour to break from the cluster of city buildings. Finally free, the country promenade opened up for him and he bolted again to get home.

The mansion rose up ahead of him, the evening falling, colouring the sky a deep purple and blue. As he drew close, he saw the first signs things were amiss. The doors were wide open and there was no one there. Items of clothing were strewn on the stairs and in the hallway.

Stragen jumped down quickly and ran inside.

“Moira!” he screamed loudly, his chest thumping in his panic. “Moira!”

Turning around in the entrance, his eyes raking the staircase and landings above, he continued to scream for his wife but no one answered. The house had been ransacked he could see. Artwork was missing from the walls or thrown carelessly aside, boxes were emptied and strewn all over the hallway floors and much of the furniture was slashed or broken into pieces.

“Sir,” a small voice called him from the direction of the kitchen hall. He whirled fast and froze to see the thin woman slowly walking towards him, her figure growing clearer the closer she drew to the light.

“Reba!” he said fast, his voice a rush. “Swan?” he asked then, the thought smashing into him that he knew not the fate of his precious girl.

But Reba nodded and pulled from behind her the timid and wide-eyed girl that hid there.

“Swan!” Stragen near shouted in relief. He fell to his knee, his arms open and she ran to him. He hugged her so strongly he wept.

“Where’s your grandma, hm?” he asked her when he regained his emotions. Swan only looked to Reba. The governess seemed to melt into the floor.

“The Baroness, she um, she left, my Lord,” she told him.

“Left?” Stragen nearly shouted. He stood but looked from Swan back to the woman in complete incomprehension. “When?”

“When the men came looking for you, my Lord,” Reba told him and her eyes darted around the hallway in obvious fear of what had happened there. “She hid in the cellars. When they left, so did the Mistress.”

“Did she leave instructions?” he asked her but Reba only shook her head.

“I took Swan to the potter’s shed and we hid there until they left. When we returned to the house, the Mistress was gone, as well as all the staff. It looked like this, Sir.”

Stragen was struck dumb by Moira’s cowardice and indifference to Swan. He hated her now. He hated her and would disown her if ever she contacted him again. He would strike her from his will, she’d be destitute if she lived. She could join her daughter for all he cared.

He looked to Swan. Her bright eyes followed him and she swayed a bit, her mouth chewing on the ear of a stuffed bunny he’d given her. He smiled to her and cupped her chin to smile for her.

“I know where to go,” he told her. “Papie knows people all over the world. I know where to go where we can live in the sunshine by the sea. We can start over. What do you think, Swan? Would you like that?” he asked her.

Swan sighed, leaned into his leg in obvious relief but fatigue. She nodded.

“Good then, it’s settled. Reba, you too, get some things packed. I have a horse we can ride together and join the rest of the city making way for the Queen’s army on the highway. We’ll be safe there. Then, we’ll make our way to Port Town where we will get passage to the new world. Antaria, darling, how does that sound?” Reba nodded and smiled, her body relaxing like the weight of the world had been lifted from her shoulders.

“Antaria, Papie? Is that a new home?” Swan asked him.

“Yes, darling,” he said to her and moved to lift her into his arms.

---

“See anything?” Hayden asked General Augustus who stood with the eyeglass. The dark-skinned general took his time, lifted and lowered a few times and finally grunted once. Without looking away, he handed the cylinder to his commander.

Hayden took it and looked through. Augustus pointed for him.

“The first man in steel I’ve seen,” he said low. “I think it’s Sir Rabb, Sir,” he told him.

Hayden eyed the glinting man, moving back and forth in obvious combat with an assailant. Hayden nodded.

“The only knight?” he mused. Augustus shifted his stance to lean more on his left foot. “They’ve lost control then,” Hayden added and lowered the glass. Augustus remained still.

“There are no more refugees, the gates were closed at sunset, my Lord,” August reminded him.

Hayden exhaled loudly. His lips rolled inward and he looked around him. Behind, their camp was full and prepared for any confrontation. Well-armed, well fed, and now rested from a day of arriving and settling in, he’d stack them against any enemy in the city.

“But I need to know where King River is,” Hayden said quietly and looked at his friend. Augustus frowned in sympathy. “Send in the spies,” he told him. Augustus nodded but stayed silent.

“Until we know more, we wait,” Hayden said finally and Augustus turned instantly to relay his order.

Alone on the berm, Hayden lifted the eyeglass again. This time, he noticed, there was no man in glinting steel moving fast and swinging hard on the upper wall parapet.