Chapter 71: Under a Spell
"Keep the line tight! Don't let them push past the iron!" Caelan roared over the thunder, squinting through the freezing downpour.
He hadn't even bothered pulling his cloak over his shoulders.
His hair was plastered flat against his forehead, his tunic soaked clean through and heavy against his chest. He looked messier than the angry mob shivering on the other side of the gate, but his eyes never left the front line.
All he cared about was keeping the crowd from surging forward. If the gate gave way, people were going to get trampled in the mud.
"You damn devils!" a voice screeched from the front row.
A sharp, jagged rock whizzed through the iron bars.
It hit Caelan flush against his left temple with a heavy thwack.
Normally, a thrown stone wouldn't have made him blink. But with the noise, the screaming, and his focus split a dozen different ways, he didn't even see it coming.
Blood instantly welled from the split skin.
The rain washed the crimson line down his cheekbone, mixing with the water to streak his jaw in a pale pink smear.
"Sir! Are you alright?!" a guard yelled, leaning his shield into the gate as the crowd hit the iron bars again.
"I'm fine... stay on the gate!"
Caelan slammed his palm over his temple, his fingers coming away slick and dark.
His face was drawn tight, dark circles bruising the skin under his eyes. He was exhausted.
He took three long strides up the stone steps leading into the grand archway, turning around to face the mass of wet bodies. He drew air deep into his chest, letting his voice boom over the rain.
"I don't know why you're throwing stones at the men who have done nothing but defend your homes—"
"Hah! Says the bastard who made a pact with the devil!" a man in a greasy leather apron spat, waving a rusted wood-axe.
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A thick vein throbbed on Caelan's forehead.
This world didn't even have devils. Yet this farmer had decided it was a great word to shout at a knight commander.
"I see nobody taught you how to address an officer, sir," Caelan said, his voice dropping into a dry, condescending razor-edge. "I don't know where you picked up that fairy tale about devils, but standing out in a freezing storm with your children doesn't seem like the smartest way to make a point, does it?"
Caelan let out a sharp, bitter scoff.
"Look at the kids shivering behind you. When they catch fever tonight, are you going to blame that on me, too?"
"Don't listen to his silver tongue!" another voice yelled from deep inside the crowd. "He's trying to stall us! The whole Order is in on it!"
The mob surged again, the collective weight slamming hard against the outer iron gates.
The guards gritted their teeth, their boots slipping in the mud as they held their shields flat against the bars. They couldn't draw steel. They couldn't strike back.
You couldn't cut down the very farmers you took an oath to protect.
"Damn it..." Caelan hissed through his teeth.
His mind was racing, coming up empty. He’d fought warlords, beasts, and rogue mages, he had never dealt with five hundred angry citizens trying to tear down their own city walls.
If this went on another ten minutes, someone was going to fall under the gate and get crushed.
How did this happen so fast?
How had a rumor about dark magic turned an entire city district against the Order overnight?
Was it the Liberators? Were they using this riot as a smoke screen while they moved their real operations in Adul? Or was this just a warning shot to tell the Order to back off?
"Damn it!" Caelan growled, turning around and slamming his bare fist straight into the stone pillar behind him.
The impact cracked the mortar between the granite blocks, dust mixing with the rain on his skin.
"Captain!"
Caelan turned his head.
Nuri, Alina, Turman, and Wan were sprinting down the wet corridor toward the steps.
Nuri didn't even wait for permission. He closed the distance and pressed his palm straight onto Caelan's bleeding temple.
A soft, warm light hummed out from his fingertips. The sharp throb in Caelan's skull dulled immediately, the split skin knitting back together under the warm glow.
The physical pain vanished, but a fresh, pounding headache took its place the second Caelan looked past Nuri's shoulder.
Wan was standing right there on the top step, his gray skin and towering frame fully exposed to anyone looking up from the plaza.
These idiots really don't think two steps ahead.
"What are you four doing down here?" Caelan demanded, keeping his voice low as he wiped the stale blood off his cheek.
Alina shot a glance at Nuri, giving him a quick, sharp nod.
"Captain... I noticed something from the upper balcony," Nuri said, his fingers curling into tight fists at his sides.
Caelan didn't answer. He just held Nuri's gaze, waiting.
"I don't think they're just angry," Nuri took a quick, shallow breath, his jaw setting tight. "I think the crowd is under a spell."
The statement hung in the cold air, dead silent against the roaring mob outside.
Caelan stared at the boy, his brow pulling tight as he tried to figure out if Nuri had lost his mind.
"Under a spell?"