icily.
“I suspect you know,” Fine Arne said, looking at Bran. “You’ve done half my work, it appears.”
“This young man has no business with you or your betters, Captain.”
“Betters? Cute, wizard,” Finn Arne replied. “That’s not what I hear. The boy has been requested to appear in Rome. He will be coming with me.”
“No,” Richard growled. “He won’t.”
“Why Rome?” Bran asked, looking at the newcomer.
“Stay silent, young sir,” Merle whispered, gripping his shoulder.
“The Cardinal Vicar of the Diocese of Rome wishes to see you, Bran Ardall,” Finn Arne said in a bored voice. “It has been ordained by the Catholic Church.”
“I know you are under orders, Captain,” Merle intoned, stepping forward. “And I know you take those orders as gospel. As well you should. In this situation, however, letting the young man pass and carry out his future will protect the Church more surely than a visit to Rome.”
“Hand the boy over, wizard,” Finn sneered. “Or we will take him at consequence.”
“Try it, Arne,” Richard countered.
“You might believe you have authority here, McAllister, but you’d be wrong,” the man snarled. “And from what I know, I doubt you can maintain that sword long enough to put up much of a fight anyway.”
“That’s what the last dead fey thought,” Richard threatened.
“This is your choice then, Myrddin Emrys?” Finn Arne asked. “To make this difficult?”
“Life is difficult. No reason for it not to be so now,” Merle said, pushing up coat sleeves to free his hands and forearms. “In this matter, your Vigilo leaders are very wrong.”
“You posture fake power,” Finn Arne countered flatly. “Your time is over.”
The wizard said nothing.
“Very well. I tried civility,” Finn Arne said, pulling two handguns and aiming at the knight. Other men wearing similar uniforms coalesced from alleys and behind corners on cue, all pointing weapons at the three men. “The hard way then, Myrddin Emrys.”
“Looks that way,” Merle said.
The men closed ranks, silent and well practiced. The impulse to flee swept over Bran. Adrenaline coursing through his veins, he realized with certainty that he had nowhere to go. The soldiers moved to corner them, a wide semi-circle tightening its trap.
Unlike the knight and wizard, Bran was helpless.
He wondered anew at his choice to enter Annwn.
“Lose the sword, McAllister,” Finn menaced. “Now.”
Richard brought Arondight up and cleaved the air with its blade, blue fire erupting along its runes and lancing out in a broad arc. Flames incinerated the air. The ring of magic swept up Finn Arne and those close to him, sending them flying. The other soldiers did not wait. Even as their leader landed with a curse, the dozen untouched fighters unleashed gunfire at Richard, the reports shattering the night. Richard brought his fire up again, a wall of protection; even as Bran ducked, the bullets never struck, turned aside by Arondight.
“Run!” Richard roared
“Run, Bran!” Merle pushed.
As the knight maintained the impenetrable circle of fire, Bran stumbled after Richard, half dragged by the bookseller as they crossed the street toward the Pioneer Park triangle. The cacophony of gunfire echoed all around them, the smell of gunpowder heavy and pungent on the chill air. Bran looked everywhere, hoping for the police. No one came. Finn Arne had regained his feet and, while roaring commands, fired his handguns with deafening accuracy as the bullets fought to reach untouchable marks.
Free of the trap set by Finn Arne, Merle peeled away from Richard and pulled Bran with him behind the safety of the ancient pergola, its iron and surrounding maple trees shielding them.
“Now listen to me, Bran,” Merle demanded. “When you and Richard—”
“Do not move,” a thick Italian voice ordered from behind.
As the two men turned to confront their assailant, black feathers and talons landed upon the soldier’s face, screeching venom. It was Arrow Jack. Like a tornado of hate, the merlin tore at the exposed flesh of cheeks, forehead, and eyes, shredding all in bloody anguish. The soldier dropped his guns and ran, arms flailing above his head, while the bold bird winged away to find more prey.
“Now, when you two enter the portal—”
“Wait.” Panic seized Bran. “You aren’t coming into Annwn?!”
“I cannot,” Merle said, grasping Bran’s shoulders with steel. “I am needed here. There are balances to be maintained, futures to be watched from afar. You both will go, accompanied by my Arrow Jack.”
“But I have questions—”
“No time,” Merle cut Bran short. “You will make your way. Stay true and the path you take will be the right one. Listen to your heart. Listen to Richard. He