“We should have thrown the Magistrate to them days ago,” Qaansoole said as she loosed an arrow into the onrushing horde.
“If there was a chance they would have been satisfied, I would have done so personally,” Sabit answered as she lifted another javelin. It still bore the scrollwork of the ornate cabinet it had been scavenged from. “But this lot will not rest until all of us are in chains or in the grave.”
Both projectiles found their marks with deadly accuracy. Two mercenaries at the forefront of the charge fell, impaled. The momentum of a full third of the charge was broken as the men behind tripped and staggered around their fallen leaders.
The other two-thirds of the line closed on the front door of the Magistrate’s house. Sabit caught sight of a battering ram being hauled toward the front. Qaansoole fired an arrow toward the front man carrying the ram. He fell, but another took his place without hesitation. The mercenaries hauled the battering ram toward the front of the house, out of sight of the two women on the side balcony.
Within moments, a loud thud reverberated from inside the house. The doors were barred, but would not last long. Sabit and Qaansoole rushed inside.
Wayfarings of Sabit: Tumult is copyright (c) 2017 by Michael S. Miller. All rights reserved. New chapters post every weekday. You can support this and other stories on Patreon: https://patreon.com/michaelsmiller or http://ipressgames.com/fiction/