76. Sloan
SEVENTY-SIX
SLOAN
The cold caught her breath and formed puffs of steam. She stood in front of a full regiment of soldiers led by a now fully dressed Lieutenant Baker.
Besides knowing where Aareth and Jack had gone, her intelligence was painfully lacking.
She wasn’t going to let these soldiers walk into a trap.
They stood tired and shivering in front of her, but well-trained and ready.
As instructed, they wore the normal city uniform with full riot gear: armor, batons, shields, helmets etc.
“We’re going to the warehouse district.” Sloan walked up and down the line of soldiers, looking at as many of them in the eye as she could without stopping to pause.
“There’s a group called The Order were going to be questioning.
I don’t want this to turn into a front-page headline, but we have to be prepared for anything.
I’ll go ahead to scout. You’ll follow Lieutenant Baker a few minutes behind me.
Keep your eyes open and move quietly. Remember your training, look out for the soldier next to you, and everything will be fine. ”
One of the many things Sloan had learned in the years of being an officer was that soldiers would perform better under the command of a determined leader. Sloan gave the group one last determined stare before trotting down the palace’s pavement.
Lost in her own thoughts, she jogged past the iron gates and out into the city. Her senses took in every detail of her surroundings despite her mind focusing on other things, like her last kiss.
It didn’t mean anything. Sloan held her sheathed sword in her left hand as she ran to prevent it from slapping against her thigh. He even broke it off. This isn’t the time or the place for this. You know that.
Still, how long had it been since she’d been kissed?
And although he did end the kiss sooner than Sloan would have liked, Aareth was going through something they still didn’t understand.
Since his bite by the mutated wolf in Burrow Den and his run-in with the assassin who tried to kill the Queen, he had been… different.
Focus. Sloan pushed herself to a faster run, hoping the physical exertion would shake away the memories of the kiss that haunted her.
Both due to the hour and the weather, only a few New Hope citizens still walked the streets. Most didn’t even see her pass. She made no noise as her boots hit the pavement; her steps were quick and soft as she studied the surrounding area.
Her journey took her into one of the rougher parts of the city.
It was one of the last pockets of New Hope not to be touched by the advance and change of the new era.
Tall warehouses rusting from the inside out covered a square mile of the city.
Most of these buildings were abandoned, a few still used for storage.
Sloan stopped two blocks from her destination, her ears picking up on something that rode on the cold wind. Cheering of some kind was coming from one of the largest warehouses on the block. For Sloan to be able to hear the applause and roars this far away, a large body of people had to be involved.
Sloan’s chest rose and fell under the labor of her run. She was so focused on the faint uproar, she nearly missed the punch aimed at her face. Just in time, Sloan sidestepped. She felt knuckles brush past her cheek in slow motion.
Two black-cloaked figures emerged from the shadows, both wearing matching steel masks. One held a machete in his hand, the other a steel pipe. Sloan took a step back, her right hand on her sword. They circled her, one in front the other, directly behind her.
“I’m going to give you one opportunity to surrender.” Sloan drew her sword and flicked on the mage power. It hummed in hungry anticipation. A dull red glow emanated from the blade itself. “In the name of the Queen, I order you to stand down.”
As one, the two attackers fell on her, Sloan charged forward, slicing clean through the first assailant’s machete and severing his head. In one smooth motion, Sloan turned to meet the second threat.
He came at her with the pipe raised over his head. Before he had a chance to bring it down, Sloan skewered him through the heart with her blade. Her sword burned a hole into his body without the slightest pause. The black robes the man wore lit on fire at the prolonged touch of the mage sword.
Sloan withdrew her weapon. The burning dead man fell to the ground in a ball of flame. Both through the machete, and bone and flesh, the sword had never hesitated. For all of the resistance she met, Sloan might as well have been slicing through paper.
Heavy footsteps made Sloan turn to address a new threat. There was no need. Lieutenant Baker had arrived with the regiment’s vanguard. Mouths were open, eyes wide as they took in the decapitated figure along with the other burning corpse.
“We’re in the right place,” Sloan switched off her mage sword. “Buckle up, I don’t think The Order is in a talking mood tonight.”