Chapter 22

The Rush Army

I don’t stop and count them, but at a glance, the crowd of fans is about thirty strong. I’m always impressed by Resh’s drawing power. Wherever he goes, whatever he does they swarm him and cheer his name. Thirty might not seem like a lot compared to the thousands that pack into the primary arenas. It is a lot when you consider that today is just a random day, and this is just the store his sisters own. Resh could easily be off doing something else, I’m not even sure he still sleeps here most nights.

Between the crowd of fans and the store is a line of six soldiers in BlackMIst colors. These guys are armed and armored in a big way. Neck to toe in thick metal armor, the plated kind complete with fancy carvings of the house’s spiral icon. They cut imposing figures, and are doing a good job of keeping people away from the store.

Is it still a store? I’m no expert on the matter, but when I imagine how a place of business operates it doesn’t involve a line of heavily armed guards stopping anyone from entering the premises.

“Don’t these idiots have anything better to do?” I grumble to Xael. He laughs and doesn’t seem bothered by the crowd, something I’m struggling to understand. It isn’t just that I'm jealous, though I absolutely am. Resh deserves all the love he gets. I’ve just never had to deal with his fans face-to-face before, and seeing them there in my way just bothers me. He’s my friend, I shouldn’t have to push through a fucking crowd just to ask one of his sisters if Resh is home.

Yet that is exactly what I do. Xael’s ability to maneuver through packed streets doesn’t help here, fortunately, as a BloodRock pit slave I am an old hand at forcing people to move. Growling and yelling I drive like a one-man wedge into the crowd with the foreign boy behind me. Getting to the front isn’t what you would call an incident-free experience, I snap my jaws at one man who tried to object to my rough passage. another flatly refuses to move so I grab him by the robe and smash my fist into his face until he falls down. The rest of the crowd is a lot more pliable after that, the BlackMist guards not so much.

The closest one is a bald and bearded man in his mid-twenties who sizes us up as we approach. He’s pretty big, I still loom over him even in the armor.

“No fans today,” he grunts and I instantly hate him.

“Fan?!” I snap cutting off Xael’s budding reply. “I’m not a fan. I practically killed him.” That may have not been the best thing to say if I wanted an easy passage, but the words are out of my mouth before my brain has quite caught up.

The guard stares at me in disbelief. “ Well you still can’t come in, the store isn’t open today.” It might be how much his tone reminds me of Charick; the young guard from the BloodRock compound, but every word out of this man’s mouth makes me want to hit him as well. As satisfying as that would be, I don't attack the guy. Even if I was armed the six of them would rip me apart in no time at all.

Through the annoyance, I remind myself I knew there was going to be something like this. I have a plan, it involves talking not violence…additional violence. That idiot wearing knockoffs of Resh’s swords deserved to get his face beaten in, and I won’t be convinced otherwise.

“There is some sort of list, right? Well, I’m on it, so go find Adaline or Adalena and tell them North is here and wants to come in.” I wish I could remember the name of Resh’s youngest sister, but I don’t think it hurts my declaration too much.

The guard looks me up and down before turning to his compatriots who haven’t moved but clearly are paying attention to the exchange. The look he gives the next BlackMist soldier in line is equal parts amusement and annoyance, as if to say ‘Can you believe what I have to put up with?’

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“If you are on the list I won’t need to speak to one of the Ladies BoltSmith.” He says with blatant condescension.

“Then go get the list.” Chimes in Xael, his flat accent making him sound bored even though he was holding back laughter moments ago.

The guard turns and walks inside the store, presumably to check if I’m allowed in.

“This may have gone smoother if you were wearing a shirt.” Says the foreigner, his face splitting back into a grin.

At his words I shoot a glance down at myself, I hadn’t really thought about my lack of upper body clothing in years, like most of the BloodRock pit slaves, I don’t even own a shirt.

“You think so?” I ask squinting in the afternoon sun.

“Yes, Yes I do.” His reply is full of that same infectious mirth that reminds me of Resh. I am about to argue that none of the people around us are shirtless and it didn’t help them get inside the store when I notice part of the small crowd has closed in on us. This is not the natural flow of the crowd refilling the gap I left in my wake.

A group of four rush fans, all teenage boys my age or older. Barge their way to us and stand uncomfortably close.

I think they are trying to give off the same energy as when Kalon and his friends came to challenge me. Looking at them with their clean hair, unscarred skin, nice clothes, and stupid short swords I can’t help but laugh. It is a true laugh, not my compulsive snicker. The idea of these boys trying to threaten anyone is just too funny.

“I heard what you said.” Declares the tallest of the boys, pointing an accusing finger at my chest. He’s taller than me, though I definitely outweigh him. The kid looks like he has never lifted something heavy in his entire life.

I shoot a questioning glance at Xael who only offers a bewildered shrug in return.

“Huh?” I grunt at the boy.

His next words are practically a hiss. “You think you can come here and threaten Resh and just get away with it? Not with the Rush Army around you can’t.”

The laugh that bursts from my lips at those is slightly hysterical. I genuinely can’t believe what I’m hearing right now. “The Rush Army?” Even saying the words is a struggle, I'm laughing so hard. After the annoying guard, the annoying man I hit, and the annoying foreigner I'm spending all day with. I really needed a laugh like this. Maybe I should be thanking the guy.

I compose myself quickly when one of the other Rush Army members pulls his swords. They are shockingly close recreations of Needle and Thread, right down to the stupid little charms hanging from the hilts. Getting them made must have cost a lot, yet it seems like all four of the boys have them at their hips.

“Now, gentlemen there is no need for blades.” Interjects Xael with a disarming smile. “ This has been a simple matter of miscommunication.”

The tall boy who had first spoken puts his hand on his own still sheathed swords and continues to hiss. “ I know what I heard, and we all saw you attack Korim.” I guess that is the name of the guy whose face I beat in.

I let out a little sigh. While the fact that one of these fans drew weapons on me is a little funny in its own right I’m not laughing anymore. Once blades are out something changes inside my mind. I’m suddenly planning out the easiest way to kill the four of them whilst losing the least amount of my own blood I can manage.

It doesn’t get anywhere near that far. Having turned to face the group of boys, I don’t notice the shop door behind me open. I do notice the crowd suddenly going dead silent and stock still, the ‘Rush Army’ included. A heartbeat later they go berzerk.

I risk a glance over my shoulder to see the guard I had spoken to returning with Resh behind him. Talking has become impossible over the sudden cacophony but the little rat-boy gestures wildly at me.

The BlackMist guards start earning their pay. The one who has just returned strides past me, and the six of them form up to keep the crowd back.

Grabbing Xael by the arm I hurry into the store behind the still-animated Resh.

The entrance area of the store is a little room stacked almost to the ceiling with boxes of cloth and sewing supplies on either side of the door. It reminds me of the haphazard way BloodRock’s spices are stored. At the far end is another closed thick wooden door.

The moment we are inside my friend slams the entrance shut and turns to me wide-eyed.

“Godsaboveandbelow” says Resh in the hard-to-understand way he gets when he is excited. “ It's finally happened, you escaped. I hope you didn’t kill too many on your way out.” I’m trying to respond but the rat-boy won’t let me get a word in. “Is this guy your surgeon?”

“Resh,” I say, trying to interrupt.

“Do you know where your forspoken stone is?” He continues, words pouring forth in a jumble.

“Resh!” He still doesn’t seem to notice that I'm trying to talk to him.

“I’ll get my sisters to clear a space upstairs and he can remove it.”

There is nothing for it. I lash out with a fist trying to catch him with a wide looping punch. If hitting him was my actual goal I would have tried a straight jab, I’m just trying to get his attention.

It works, Resh casually ducks under the punch, but it shuts him up.

“I’m not escaping you fuckhead, we came to.” I’m suddenly embarrassed by what I’m saying. This whole idea seems a little stupid. “You know, came to visit.”