The Final Storm

19. To Rescue a Damsel

"Adaira!"

I had never heard so much fear and rage squeezed into a single shout. Especially not one coming from my husband. Yet no answer came to his call. Maybe because there was no one alive to give an answer.

"Rasatē tōṁ bāhara!" Mr Ambrose barked at the crowd, uncaring that, here in Delhi, few people probably understood Punjabi. "Rasatē tōṁ bāhara!"

No one followed his command to get out of the way. No one even seemed to have heard. Clenching his fists around the reins, Mr Ambrose once more drove his horse forward—or at least tried to. But the current of the crowd was irresistible. Slowly at first, then faster and faster, we were being swept away from where Adaira had disappeared among the swarms of people. Once, I thought I caught a glance of Karim's big turban, but it was only for an instant. The next moment our horse received a shove that nearly toppled it over, and I lost sight of him.

We have to get out of here! If things go on like this, we'll be thrown off our mount and trampled to death!

But I didn't voice those thoughts. Because...if we had to get away to avoid being trampled to death, what about Adaira?

"Move, you useless beast! Move!" Once more, Mr Ambrose tried to force his mount forward—to no avail whatsoever. The force of the crowd was unstoppable. As for his shouts at the crowd...they were completely ignored. Those people were far too busy with other things, because, right then, they caught sight of the army approaching from outside the city for the very first time. A cheer erupted, and the mass of people from the city started moving even faster. Bodies from all around pressed more tightly against us and our horse shied in response, scared by the movement and noise. Gritting his teeth, Mr Ambrose forced it down and tried to get it to move again.

"Stop!" I put a hand on my husband's arm.

"No, I have to—"

"Stop, or we will be squashed to death! What good will we be to Adaira then?"

For just a moment, he hesitated, staring at the spot where Adaira had vanished—then, with a heartrending sound escaping his throat, he wrenched the horse around, away from the undulating masses of people that threatened to overwhelm us. But it was of little use. More and more people started flooding towards us as another swarm of people came rushing out of the city to cheer for the arriving army. The pressure from all sides was becoming heavier and heavier, and if we hadn't been on a horse, we might already have been separated or squashed.

"We have to get out of here." There was a grim set to my husband's jaw, and it was clear he did not like the idea. "Now. Hold on."

He didn't need to ask twice. I tightened my grip around his waist, and just in time, too. Because, the very next moment, he slapped his horse's rear and started driving it forward even more fiercely, away from the centre of the crowd. Somehow, slowly, we managed to move against the current of people. But I wasn't sure how long it would last. From my vantage point, I could already see more people heading this way.

"We've got to get off the horse and up somewhere safe. A rooftop maybe, or..." Continuing to urge the horse on, he quickly scanned the surroundings. "The city wall! Quick!"

He yanked our mount to the left and headed straight towards the wall, nearly trampling a number of rebels to death in the process. No...not just towards the wall. Towards the stairs that led up the wall!

"Take the reins!" He thrust them into my hand, and I was about to open my mouth to ask why when he slipped his feet out of the stirrups and stood up on the saddle like a bloody circus artist! Before I could yell at the stupid, rock-headed idiot to stop, he leapt!