The guard sergeant driving the carriage turned onto the last street, a few passersby standing and waiting for the carriage and the four Ansgar's Hand riders to pass.
Torjus rode his horse to the left of the carriage, in the rear position. He could see into the carriage through one of the side windows. Saw Kate and Emogene and the baby in her arms. Saw Michael.
A man trying to clean up his life. Not all that different from Torjus himself.
The carriage continued down the road. The towering steeples of the Church of Ansgar's Eternal Glory were getting closer and closer. Clearly visible over the low rooftops of the surrounding buildings of the street.
Torjus kept watch as his mount Sledge trotted along.
Watched the windows of shops. The doors of homes. The alleys that seemed to appear and disappear without warning to either side of him.
If the sergeant was right, and an attack did happen, it could come from anywhere. And the enclosed street they were on was a terrible location for mounted combat.
But it was just a little further. And it'd be done.
A slight bend in the street, and Torjus could see the end of it in the distance. The massive city square in front of the Church. The large wedding crowd outside the Church—a tiny swarm of people.
Just a little further.
Sharon saw them. A carriage. Two armored riders on either side of it. Total of four. Had to be it.
She walked down the alley in a hurry. Trying to judge what a safe distance might be on the fly. But there was no way to know for sure. And the further she got from the closed down shop, the harder the shot to ignite the explosives would be.
So she stopped and turned around. A good sprint away from the shop. Some forty or so yards it seemed. It would have to do.
She glanced up and down the narrow alley.
Alone. No witnesses. Good.
Sharon reached into the satchel and withdrew both pistols and aimed them down the alley. The shop window a small square in the distance.
She started counting in her head.
A tricky thing. She needed the convoy to be close, but not too close. If she fired too soon, the explosion might not do the damage necessary to incapacitate, disorient, and wound the soldiers. If she fired too late, she risked killing Michael outright.
And she counted. Tried to think about the slow speed of the convoy and the position she had seen it in and how long it would take for it to approach the shop and—
Someone passed by the shop. A civilian. Appearing and disappearing from sight at the far end of the alley in an instant.
Sharon steadied her breath. No turning back. Not when she was so close to pulling this off.
And she counted.
Her fingers on the triggers.
And fired both pistols.
The bullets from the pistols tore into one of the crates. The force of the impact heated the volatile Ignis-Crystal mixture, and the intense heat from the mixture ignited the gunpowder, and the flames from the gunpowder set off the catastrophic reaction.
A deafening clap. A massive cloud of dust and debris shooting into the air; a thick stem of dust crowned by a massive curling ball of fire and smoke. A shockwave rushing in every direction, shattering glass and violently rumbling the very foundations of the buildings it touched.
The entire closed down shop was obliterated.
Pieces of it were sprayed into the surrounding buildings and streets and high into the air. Pelting everything nearby with superheated chunks of stone from the street and the foundation and jagged shards of wood from the shop.
From afar, the explosion looked akin to a volcanic eruption. A devastating and horrific scene. In the middle of the city.
Screams from the wedding crowd. They pointed and ran and shouted and turned and hid their faces and sheltered their loved ones and shrieked and ducked and panicked and fainted and said quick prayers.
All this, as the shockwave hit them and knocked the majority of them over. Smacked them hard in their chests and stole the air from their lungs. And the debris showered down on them.
One moment, everything was quiet.
The next, Torjus was blown clear off of Sledge. Even the front wheels of the carriage were lifted from the ground momentarily before slamming back down.
Torjus hit the street hard.
He felt blood. Leaking from his ears. His nose. His mouth.
He couldn't hear anything.
And a plume of dust swallowed him.
The shockwave bowled the unprepared Sharon over, knocking the pistols from her hands and her body straight to the ground.
A painful ringing in her ears, drowning out much of the world.
And a plume of a dust and dirt, channeled down the alley by the buildings, rushed toward her.
"Shit!" she said, rolling over onto her stomach and covering her head.
The plume washed over her, turning day into night for a short, terrifying moment.
Sharon stood, coughing and wheezing harshly. The dust was everywhere. In her ears. Her nose. Her eyes. Her hair. Her mouth. Her throat. The very pores of her skin.
The entire alley was hazy with it, as if a fog made entirely of dust had descended on Reajh. She could barely see beyond arm's length. The smoke bombs would be redundant.
So she dropped the satchel. Pulled up the scarf to her nose to mask her face.
And ran as fast as she could.
Limited time. To get to the carriage and get Michael out in the chaos and confusion.
If he was even still alive after that.
* * * * *
Thunder. In the distance.
And the glasses and mugs and tables and chairs and walls and the floor itself rattled. Murmurs from the patrons.
Merissa glanced at Volkhard.
Mounting concern sinking into her expression.
