Horsemen's War (The Rebellion Chronicles #3) - Steve McHugh Page 0,46

mass filled the gap between the buildings. But then a crowd of people baying for blood who had killed countless others without worrying about it was running on bloodlust, not brainpower.

Layla fired the pieces of metal at those charging through, using enough force to make them as deadly as bullets. They struck a half dozen targets as the defenders with weapons opened fire.

It was the bloodbath Layla had known it would be. Bullets and metal tore through the crowd below like it was paper, leaving corpses all across the space between the three buildings. Two dozen were dead in under a minute, nearly double that by the time the horde outside the kill zone decided to stop charging in.

Layla had all but emptied one bag when she spotted several newcomers at the edge of the apartment. One wore chain mail armor that glistened golden and a long black cape. Layla tapped her ear. “We’ve got problems.”

“Oh fuck,” Chloe said as one of the newcomers created a ball of air the size of a basketball and flung it at the building, detonating the magic and tearing apart a large chunk of the wall.

“Fifty dead,” Judgement said. “Only a few thousand to go. I’m going to go remove the stragglers. The last thing we need for them is cavalry. Be back soon.”

There was no point in telling Judgement what to do; she was her own person and wasn’t someone who took orders easily.

Layla picked up a screw and began to rotate it in the air, spinning it faster and faster until it was a blur. She flung it at the sorcerer with every bit of power she had at her disposal. The sorcerer wrapped himself in a shield of air before the screw ever hit. And a second later, he flung it back toward Layla with enough magical power that she had to move aside as it smashed into the wall behind her.

“We have a really big problem,” Layla said. “That’s not some two-bit sorcerer.”

“Ladies and gentlemen of Washington,” the sorcerer said, his arms wide open, his air magic pushing his words far enough that Layla could hear him as if he were standing beside her.

“My name is Sir Lamorak,” he said. “I am one of the Knights of the Round Table and a paladin in the employ of Arthur Pendragon, your king and ruler. I was tasked with the destruction of this filthy city, and I am to carry out my king’s command. You are in the way of those orders, you have killed the king’s men, and I will take time out of my day to show you the error of your ways.”

“What a pompous ass,” Chloe said in Layla’s ear.

Layla sighed. “Shit, wasn’t he supposed to be one of the greatest warriors the world had ever known?”

“You have but one chance to ensure you do not taste my wrath,” Sir Lamorak continued.

“I can hear him through your comms, and he sounds like a giant dick to me,” said Judgement. “I’m a bit busy with these idiots, but I’ll come kill him in a minute.”

“You will kneel before me and beg forgiveness, and I will allow you a quick and . . . relatively painless death. A death with honor. But if you continue to stand against me, I will have your souls torn from your bodies as I rip you to pieces.”

“That’s vivid,” Piper said.

“There is no escape this day,” Sir Lamorak said. “There is no tomorrow for you people. There is a good, clean death or agony the likes of which you have never even considered. You have sixty seconds to decide.”

“Have we decided?” Tarron asked immediately.

“Does anyone want to take him up on his offer?” Layla asked.

“He’s going to butcher everyone,” the APC driver said. “Fuck him and his fancy cape.”

“I like her,” Judgement said.

“Anyone think otherwise?” Layla asked.

“Death or death?” Piper asked. “No one down here is mad keen on those options.”

“So I’ll give him our answer, okay?” Layla asked.

“Go ahead,” Chloe said.

Layla collected enough metal to turn into a baseball-size weapon and threw it at Sir Lamorak. The paladin watched the ball hurtle toward him, his hands aflame, until he caught it out of the air as if it were nothing. He crushed the ball in one hand, the individual pieces of metal dropping over the ground at his feet, and looked up at Layla with hatred in his eyes.

Layla flipped him off with both hands.

“How fucking dare you,” Sir Lamorak screamed. “I offer you