The Magic Trick (The Card Game #2)

Ch 33 - The River's Curse

CHAPTER XXXIII

THE RIVER'S CURSE

The Gypsy soldiers, Crossbones Clan, circus youths, prisoners, and wolf all ran as one. The enemy never had a chance; their distraction and the weakness in their line made resistance impossible, and they broke as if the Indian rhinoceros itself had returned to do battle. Trampling guards underfoot, Viktor's party broke the oaken doors wide open, dashed through the entrance hall, and threw open the last doors of Staryi Castle to enter the cool air of the courtyard. A sky pink with the coming sunrise beckoned them onward.

A host of cries and shouts sounded from behind, but Viktor dared not look back. The Leopard and his Ghosts and his commanding officers were screaming orders, and already guards on the walls were flocking toward the courtyard's great gate, the last barrier between life and death, between captivity and wide-open freedom.

Viktor had no time to aid the hobbling prisoners nor the weary circus youths. He knew his duty, and so he pulled up, striking a match to the weapon that Romulus had imparted to him: The White Split glowed like a moonstone, gleamed like pearl; he threw it with all his might, and it flashed like a shooting star across the dawning sky, streaking straight for the wrought iron gate.

BOOM!

Like the explosion that destroyed the hallway, this one tore the gate right off its hinges, shattering chains, twisting metal. Any guards in the blast radius were thrown feet in the air and smashed into the ground on their faces or backs, too weak to raise a finger in protest.

Just like that, Viktor's party was free. They ran past the shattered gate and onto the southern plains, where Blizzard tore off toward the forest. The Xaladikta Roma let out piercing whistles, and moments later, a herd of horses came galloping into view from around the eastern side of the castle wall.

A more beautiful sight Viktor had never seen. There were scores of Romani steeds—painted and pinto and silver and chestnut, black as the night or as brilliant white as the sun. Their blanket-like saddles floated in the wind like a rainbow of hope, and their whinnies and screams drowned out the roar of the enemies in pursuit.

As steeds and masters reunited, Viktor helped load the prisoners and the injured up on the mounts. Many allies had fallen in Staryi Castle, and there were more than enough horses for the new escapees, but the Xaladikta Roma still shared their saddles with any who were too weak to ride alone. Star-flank found Viktor in the crowd, and Viktor leapt atop his golden back—and the next moment felt himself flying over the land beside the Crossbones Clan. He also almost let himself sink into a pool of relief, but one glance at the courtyard behind him shattered any of his misplaced confidence.

"Hey, they've got horses too!" Viktor shouted. "They've emptied their stables!"

"These are Romani steeds—we'll outrun them!" said Roksana.

"Not burdened down like this!" Feliks said, swooping sideways while trying to navigate, keep Florica in the saddle, and keep hold of his reigns all at the same time—and with only one working eye and arm.

Mirela twisted her neck and peered backward, keeping a tight arm around her wounded sister as she rode. "The Magician does not lie! The enemy too has Romani breeds!"

"We can thank Zindelo for that," snarled Arseni, riding all the harder at the thought of the Gypsy horse trader.

Panic spread among the Gypsy soldiers as they realized the uncertainty of their escape. Arguments broke out. Shouts came from all directions. Questions were cried—many of which were directed at Viktor, as if he could magically solve the situation like his blood brother. But the Leopard and his Seven were slowly closing the distance between them, and they had a host of black horses and riders at their bidding.