The sibling Prophets went side by side down the street. All in front of them, the ruins of trucks and buildings completely blocked the path. “Do you think they headed this way?” Darren asked as he climbed over the debris partially blocking the northeast entrance to the square.

“My guess is yes,” Aela said, noticing the complete destruction in front of them. “It’ll take us hours to just climb over this.”

“Maybe we should head south and move along the highway,” Darren suggested.

“No, there’s another street that heads to the river north of us.” Aela pointed to the street, heading north then turning east, with her round, golden shield. “I can see some of the buildings over there still standing. We’ll go that way.”

“Hmm.”

“What?”

“Do you hear anything?”

“Any what?”

“Gunfire, explosions.”

Aela paused, letting her ears search for sounds of fighting she was sure existed. “No. I can’t hear anything. Maybe the other Prophets aren’t attacking,” the Gold Prophet suggested.

Darren smiled as he said, “Or they’ve pushed the Torin army out of the city. Come on, I want to see how much past the river they’ve gone,” and ran up the cracked and muddied street.

Aela ran beside him, keeping her eyes out for lensers. The city had been full of them since the Torins first overran the far side of the Thelga River, and had been a constant annoyance. Aela had been shot twice already by these long-range riflemen, so-named for the scopes they used and their professed ability to shoot officers through the lenses of their spectacles. Hiding in random windows or easily accessed piles of debris for cover, lensers could be anywhere.

“Stop, stop!” Aela said when they reached the corner of the eastward street. Darren stopped, waiting with his back against the wall of a bakery with its windows blasted out and its roof caved in. “There might be a patrol or a defensive line set up. I’ll check it out.”

“I hear something hit your shield then I’ll turn and blast whatever shot at you,” Darren said, holding his gun at the ready.

“I’ll be sure and tell you where it comes from.” Aela bent down, using her shield to cover most of her body, and leaned out from behind the bakery wall. Peering over the edge of her round shield, she looked down the street. “Don’t see anything. A few cars and trucks but they look like they’ve been abandoned for a while.”

“Any lensers?”

“If they were any good I wouldn’t be able to see them.” Aela waited, pressing her body behind her shield and waiting for the pop of an amateur lenser trying to shoot her through the gold-colored metal. “Either they’re experienced, or there aren’t any lensers.”

Darren licked his lips. “We can cut through the alleys between the buildings, just to be safe.”

“Right.”

It took longer than expected, running and jumping between the buildings as they tried to avoid the lensers they were positive had taken position in the streets. After nearly an hour, they had progressed about four blocks, close enough they could hear and partially see the wide Thelga River. Whenever they reached an alley that was blocked, or had no choice but to dart across the main street to progress, Aela would raise her shield and try to protect both her and her brother as they ran to cover.

The progression felt ridiculous to them both, moving so slow and ducking around when they could have simply walked straight down the street. But after their past experiences during this siege, they didn’t want to take any chances of being easy pray for a lucky lenser. At one point they found a gap between two buildings, low apartments. A bomb had blasted holes in the walls and the two jumped through, safely landing on the shaky floor of the building that bordered the main road along the river.

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

The apartment building had collapsed in the center, concrete and glass lying on top of the other with the tenants’ abandoned furniture. It was a difficult climb for the two Prophets.

“Now see, if you had made your weapon a blade you could simply cut your way through this wall here,” Aela said, and patted the concrete wall blocking their exit from the collapsed stairwell in the bottom floor of the apartment building.

“I could cut my way through,” Darren said, and leveled his gun on the wall. “Just back away a little.”

“No wait—”

Darren fired and blew a hole in the wall large enough for them to walk through. The resulting blast caused pieces of the ceiling to collapse down on top of them. Darren quickly jumped out the hole he had made while his sister held her shield up and blocked the small pieces of debris as they fell on her.

Covered in dust, Aela stepped out onto the street beside Darren and said, “I asked you to wait.”

“You’re fine. I knew you’d get out okay,” Darren said, retrieving his bullet.

“No you didn’t. And you probably made everyone this side of the river hear where we are. If you’d had a blade that wouldn’t have happened.”

“Well excuse me for not getting my weapon blessed with a silencer attached.” As Darren spoke, his back to the river, his sister turned toward the Thelga and her eyes bulged. “Maybe next time I—”

“Darren, look.” Aela pointed over her brother’s shoulder.

The Red Prophet turned and gasped.

The massive steel beams of the Elder Bridge, a marvel of the city’s industrial prowess, lay in a twisted heap in the deep waters of the Thelga River. Like some drowned monster, the wrecked metal jutted out of the water and partially dammed the river to overflow on either shore.

On each side of the river, especially near the bridge, lay the remains of Torin equipment. Some smoldered, some burned, some looked simply abandoned. Several had the distinctive clean cuts from a Red blade.

The two Prophets scanned the area for any sign of life, friend or foe. While they could see smoke rising from the city all around them, they couldn’t spot any movement. And while dead Torin, Joya Union, and Ieral soldiers lay scattered among the wreckage, there wasn’t a Prophet body in sight, alive or dead.

“Is this all from the first attack?” Aela asked as she looked further up the river, “Look north, the power bridge is wrecked too.”

The siblings peered their eyes to see the smoldering remains of the city’s second bridge, the Gradennes Hydroelectric Power Station. Halfway across, the bridge turned into a power plant, partially blocking the river to push the turbines generating electricity for the city. A few small boats sped about near it, but there was otherwise no life in sight near the western edge of the river.

“The Ierals must have bombed out the hydro plant. In the first attack we got to the bridge and it was still standing,” Darren noted. “I was with everyone when we got this far and the Torins regrouped on the other side of the river.”

“So was I. I was at the front, on the bridge.”

“You were on the bridge when the Torins counterattacked?” Darren looked at his sister with greater respect.

“Was it a full-blown counterattack? I couldn’t tell, there were so many tanks and troops it was all I could do to help keep the few around me alive.” Aela pointed to the second bridge pylon, one of the many sunken pillars that used to keep the stout iron structure over the wide waters of the Thelga. “See that pylon? That’s where I was when a dive-bomber knocked me and another Red into the water, Richan.”

“I barely set my foot on the bridge. I’m actually glad I didn’t see that happen. I probably would have dove in and killed both of us trying to save you.” Darren laughed lightly, trying to ease the obvious tension in Aela’s face.

“Maybe,” Aela said, staring blankly at the pylon.

The sight of the ruined bridge made her freeze and think about the battle.

Aela’s mind went back to the day before.

“Richan!” Aela shouted when she emerged above the water’s surface. The dive-bomber had hit her and Richan close, and she looked around for her friend, bobbing in the rushing river’s current.

“Gah! Gah!” Richan shouted a dozen or so meters from Aela. He splashed around in the water, screaming in pain and trying to keep his head above the surface.

“Hold on, Richan, I’m coming!” Aela’s shield weighed her down and threatened to sink her to the bottom of the thick, muddy water. Drawing strength and energy from her blessed weapon, she hurriedly made it to Richan. “I’m here, I’m here.”

Blood covered her hand as she grabbed the Red Prophet by his arm. As if the muscle had been cleanly ripped off, Aela felt the gap of flesh and tried to keep from gasping at the sickening feeling of touching the man’s exposed bone. It was sloppy work, scarring more than healing, but Aela was able to quickly heal the arm so Richan didn’t hemorrhage to death in the cold water.

“Come on, Richan,” Aela said as she pushed with tremendous strain to keep them both floating. “Come on, kick your legs for me.”

Shaking his head and looking at Aela with surprise, Richan found his strength and started kicking and moving his arms to keep his body floating. “Thanks, Aela,” Richan said, panting and spitting out the water that splashed into his mouth. “I don’t — look out!”

A wave of machine gun fire burst into the water around them. Richan dove under and Aela pulled her shield up. The pink-pink-patink of bullets hitting and bouncing off her shield nearly deafened her as thousands of troops counterattacked the mere dozens of Prophets. The opposite shoreline was filling with the red and brown uniforms of the Torins as they pressed forward on the bridge and loaded into hundreds of boats.

Three patrol boats, as well as lensers and other troops on the shore, opened fire on Aela and Richan.