The Iron Pillars

Chapter 32

Brant swallowed with an effort and eyed the pistol in his hand. He stood up on a balcony in the shadows, which projected off a currently unoccupied VIP area. The entire restaurant lay beneath him, only the kitchen exempt from his piercing gaze. 

The establishment struck him as overly extravagant, with expensive candles aplenty gracing every table, along with a pair of vivid flowers planted in specially designed sockets behind each chair. A live band played on a stage near the center of the restaurant, which Brant had heard was comprised of the best traditional Kemarian musicians still alive. He could neither confirm or deny that claim, but their talent was undeniable nonetheless. 

His heart raced, as he was only marginally familiar with the use of firearms. Yet that was all Ryder would allow him to use. "Shoot from afar and immediately take cover", he'd said, and Brant was coming to the realization neither of those things was any skill of his. If only Ace were here...or Keira. 

He glanced at the untended bar, where Hannah crouched behind the counter, shotgun in hand. The bartender himself lounged at a distant table with a full bowl of noodles and listened to the band. It was too early for drinks, especially considering the customer base of mostly Kemarians, who seemed often to have such strange superstitions. 

Aaron and a few other insurgents sat at a table near the entrance and posed as guards on their breakfast break. Ryder had slapped an additional stripe on their uniforms, which he claimed changed the outfit from that of a border patrolman to one of the Iron Hallway's guards. 

Each of the four walls had a balcony like the one Brant stood on, enshrouded in shadow and leading to a vacant room with an empty banquet table. Ryder himself stood at the opposite end and stared down at his own pistol. On the railing before him were laid out a trio of unidentified metal objects. Are those...shurikens? Brant asked himself. 

"Shoot and cover. Shoot and cover." Brant whispered to himself. His worries didn't end at his lack of skill, but the risk. What if I hit the wrong guy? What about running out of ammo? 

He was given no more time to ponder. Baird and Khemera were shoved through the restaurant door by two surly men each, closely followed by a line of Kemarian men and women escorted by similar guards. 

"Hold your fire." Ryder's voice spoke in Brant's earpiece, causing him to jump and nearly pull the trigger. "We'll let the guards settle into their positions so we can better plan our attack." 

Brant nodded and continued to watch. He growled with disgust when they shoved blind Khemera down into a chair without a care. They treated the other prisoners with similar disrespect. 

Friendly waitresses soon emerged with steaming bowls and plates in their hands. As if to undo the damage done by the nasty guards, they showed themselves to be extra kind and polite. A few of them even exchanged what appeared to be flirtatious glances with the prisoners. 

Before long, all the men had been served, and they ate with sullen faces. Their guards spread out. Some served as sentries at the doorways. Others stood directly behind their charges and breathed down their necks as they dined. Still others paced restlessly across the establishment, eyeing patrons' food as they strolled past. Even a handful ogled the trio of young ladies singing at the bandstand. 

"Alright, guys, time to plan." Ryder's voice crackled in Brant's ear again, "We've got them well surrounded. We just need to keep that advantage." 

"So, what do we do?" Brant heard Aaron ask. 

"Currently, they have both doors under their control. You and your men can change that." 

"We can?" Aaron questioned. Then Brant saw him glance down at his uniform and smirk. "Oh, right."