Dandy stared past her, watching the gunfire hopelessly. Trimble’s men were crawling all over the gate, firing from the walls, pulling wounded of the yard as more men rushed in. There was no chance of sneaking by them. “Now what do we do?”

  Maine thought for a moment, then dug through her bag. She had a number of tricks and inventions that she’d been working on, things she’d never been able to try out before, and now might be the perfect time to try. She pulled out her a wooden slingshot and then a packet of small glass beads, so dark they almost seemed to absorb the light. Slipping the beads into her pocket, she nodded at the front gate.

  “We’ve got to get the Firstborn out of there! They’ve got the main gates blocked off, but there’s got to be another way out.”

  “What if they’ve got that blocked off too?” he asked out.

  “I don’t know! Then we’ll make a way out!”

  Dandy stared at her, and opened his mouth, but then a bullet, maybe a richochet, screamed over their heads, striking the alley wall. He yelled as they both ducked their heads, and when he looked up, there were tears in his eyes. “Maine…” He was close to running, Maine could see it. She felt the same way, but they couldn’t leave now. They couldn’t! Not after she’d given her word as a Maierson!

  She looked around quickly, trying to come up with an idea. Idly, she noticed that the rat was gone, just when she could’ve used a little guidance too. She glanced at the fence-line, following it around the property. It led into a side-alley that seemed tempting enough; it was dark, and no one seemed to be watching it, or more importantly, shooting at it. Good enough for now.

  She grabbed hold of Dandy’s arm. “Follow me!” He gave a yell as she tugged him out of the alleyway. “Keep low” she hissed, running towards the fence-line. The whine of bullets seemed to fill the air, as Maine unconsciously imagined every gun following her position. She reached the fence and didn’t stop, her feet barely seeming to touch the ground. Ifri dashed alongside her, tail nearly horizontal behind him. The fight in the yard flashed by her as sje ram, illuminated by gaps in the wooden slats; the Firstborn shooting from the windows as masked men rushed for the main building, Elders and Humans locked in combat, fighting tooth and nail, still bodies lying abandonned in the mud. A wooden plank exploded near her head and she stumbled, nearly falling. There was no stopping now! She ran with all her might, flying around the corner– and right into a group of men that were trying to scale the fence.

  The men looked up, frozen in surprise. One man was hanging from the top of the fence, boosted up by two of his comrades, while two more were waiting nearby; and everyone of them was armed. Maine and Dandy yelled, arms pinwheeling, as they tried to stop, but they were going too fast. The men yelled along with them as they crashed together, and the world seemed to go bright.

  Maine rolled on the ground, vaguely conscious of a tangle of arms and legs all around her. A familiar voice was shouting something, but it was lost in a high-pitched whine. Something like…

  “Run! Run, Maine!” Dandy was screaming, and the world seemed to snap into clarity. The men were lying prone, blinking and stunned just as badly as she was, but they were starting to come around. “Run!” As two started to sit up, Dandy threw himself them, arms flailing wildly. Someone grabbed for Maine blindly and she rolled away. A hand snagged on her bag, but she slipped out of it, crawling for her life. Her slingshot was still in her hands, but there was no time. Suddenly she was jerked backwards, and she heard someone yell.

  “I’ve got her! I’ve got her!”

  Maine rolled over, her free hand fumbling for her pocket. The man had her by the boots, tugging her back. He’d slipped his mask off his face, showing off an ugly mug dotted with pockmarks. “I’ve got her!” he yelled again, as her fingers finally found one of the beads in her pocket. She slapped it in the slingshot cup and pulled back till the rubber was straining. He finally saw what she was doing, his eyes going wide. She released.

  The little ball hit him square in the cheek and shattered, exploding into a cloud of black ink. He flew back, his face, clothes, and a generous portion of the alley wall looking like they’d been coated in pitch. Kraken Permanent Ink, still a top seller from Maiersons.

  As he lay stunned and partially blinded, Maine tried to catch her breath, her hands still shaking. But before she could even think, a bullet struck the cobblestones just a few feet from her. She flinched, ducking away, and the slingshot tumbled from her hands. She dove for it as another bullet zipped past her head, but her fingers knocked wooden frame further away. She could almost feel the next bullet coming for her.

  YYYeeeeeOOOWWWWRRR!!!

  A man started to yell as Ifri leapt at him, biting and clawing. He swatted at the cat with his hands, trying to knock him away, then his yells suddenly turned to screams. Ifri was glowing red hot, flames spitting from his mouth. He whirled about the man like a torch, biting and clawing with all his worth. Maine stared in shock, watching as the man threw himself down and tried to crawl away as the little kitten continued to savage his backside, then she remember herself and grabbed her slingshot.

  One of the men was holding Dandy up by the arms, while another punched him in the gut repeatedly. The young Elf’s head was drooping weakly, he looked barely conscious. Maine fit another ball into the cup and pulled it back. “Hey!” she shouted at the top of her lungs.

  The man turned back, one fist raised, just in time to catch a ball straight in his forehead. He fell in a heap as black ink rained down around him, showering Dandy and the other man. He dropped the young Elf, fumbling his gun just as Maine slapped at her pocket for another ball. She had another, she could feel it in there, but it was deep inside and she couldn’t seem to pull it out. Her fingers slipped against it as he pulled his gun, then Maine heard the scratching of claws on stone and something running behind her.

  With a howling noise, a gray shape flew over her head in an arcing leap, striking the man directly in the chest. He fell in a tumble, the gray shape rolling with him. They rolled in the alleyway; Maine could hear the sound of screams over angry growls and barking. Then with a horrible shudder, the man went still. Slowly, the shape rose up over the body, blood dripping from his maw.

  It was a dog, she realized with a start. Not some huge pitbull or doberman, but a sleek looking hunting dog, with a gray-spotted coat and a narrow, dark head that turned to regard her curiously. It padded forwards, sniffing at her, its eyes quick and intelligent. Maine put up her hand, at little surprised at her own fearlessness, and felt the dog’s cold nose. Then his shape seemed to blur, his body twisting and growing, and she suddenly found herself staring into a familiar set of eyes.

  Dakota grabbed her arms and shook her. “What the hell are you doing here, girl?”

  Maine stared at him, blinking. “Dakota?? What are you doing here? What was that? Were you just a dog? I’ve never seen anything like–” She gasped abruptly and slapped both hands over her eyes, blushing furiously. “Naked,” she said flatly.

  “Oh, for the love of… Half a second!” She waited, keeping her hands pressed tightly against her eyes, hearing him fumble around. “Okay, you can look,” he finally told her.

  She gingerly pried her hands away and peaked out. Dakota had stolen the pants off the dead man, cinching the belt tight against his slim waist. He pulled the man’s shirt over his chest and gestured to her impatiently. “Satisfied?”

  She nodded, trying to ignore the bloodstains on his collar. Then, unable to stop herself, the questions started to bubble out of her. “Were you a dog just now? What kind of magic is that? Can you transform into any kind of dog, or just that one? What kind of dog is it?” What–”

  “Time and a place, girl!” he snapped at her. He shook his head angrily and glared. “Now, what are you doing out here? This place is a warzone.” He waited, but she kept her mouth closed tightly. “Come’on! Speak up!”

  “I thought there wasn’t time for questions,” she said at last.

  He stared at her, giving a low growl. “Fine. I’m a weredog,” he explained. “I can transform into the dog you saw. That’s it.”

  “How did you–”

  “Nope! My turn,” he told her. “Are you here alone? Does your brother know about this?”

  “No, I came here with Dandy. He’s… Oh!” She scrambled to her feet and ran to where Dandy lay groaning. His nose was busted and bleeding, but otherwise, he seemed in one piece.

  She helped him up into a sitting position. “Are you okay, Dandy?”

  He coughed and looked around, his eyes slightly out of focus. “I think so?” He blinked, seeing Dakota for the first time. “Oh! Good Morning, sir…” he said weakly.

  The Marshal bent over him quickly, peeling back the boy’s eyelid. “He’ll be fine, but he needs a doctor.” The sounds of more gunfire came from the yard and he ducked his head. “We’ll all need a doctor if we don’t get out of here soon.”

  He turned to Maine. “Now, I came here to find the Firstborn–”

  “We did too!” she said quickly.

  “Oh course you did,” he muttered. “Look! We’ve got a plan to get them out of here, but this place is way too dangerous! You need to get to safety!”

  “No! We’re not leaving until we know the Firstborn are safe!” She grabbed a crate from the ground and set it up against the fence, trying to use it to boost herself up. Dakota watched her jump a few times, the tips of her fingers falling well shy of the top of the fence. “I promised– huh! To save– ugh! Them– huh!” She turned around, panting. “Can you give me a boost?”

  Dakota grabbed her. “You need to get out of here!” he insisted, but she shook off his arm.

  “The Firstborn don’t know you! As soon as you go over that fence, they’re going to start shooting! But they know me! I helped them, remember? They’ll listen to me.” He stared at her, his face suddenly showing doubt. “Trust me!”

  He chewed on his lip for a second, whining under his breath, then nodded. “Fine! But we gotta be quick!” He took hold of her shoulders and bent close. “Tell the Firstborn they need to get ready to run! As soon as I give the signal, my partner’s going to drive off the men in front of yard. As soon as it’s clear, they need to go! You got that? Tell them!”

  “I will!” she nodded. “Now are you going to give me a boooooooo–” She suddenly found herself flying over the fence, tumbling head over heels, and landed roughly in the dirt on the other side.

  “OW!” She rubbed at her butt, grimacing. “Warn me next–” There was a loud BANG! and a nearby tuft of dirt near her hand exploded. She threw up her hands, waving them wildly.

  This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  “Wait! Don’t shoot, don’t shoot! It’s me! Maine Maierson!”

  There was silence and then a familiar looking head poked out through a window. It was the scruffy faced Halfling, the one who had guarded her in the office. “Human Girl? Is that you?” he called out.

  “Yes! It’s me!” She climbed to her feet and started to limp towards the building, when he suddenly raised his gun, pointing through the window.

  “Hold on!” he warned her. “How do I know this isn’t some kind of Human trick?” There was a scuffle inside, and suddenly a Goblin’s face poked through the window, squeezing against his. It was the same Goblin from before as well. He squinted at her, adjusting his glasses.

  “It is Maine Maierson!” he said excitedly. “Quickly, come inside!” he motioned, but the Halfling shoved him back.

  “We don’t know if she's in disguise or not! She could be a Human trying to get inside!”

  “I am a Human trying to get inside!” she shouted.

  He pointed excitedly. “See! She agrees with me!”

  Maine stamped her foot, still holding her hands up. “It’s me! Maine Maierson! I’m here with a dog who’s a US Marshal and we’re going to get you out, but you need to let me in first!”

  Both of them stared at her. “What?” the Halfling called back.

  “Ugh!” She lowered her hands and stomped towards the garage angrily. The Halfling leveled his gun at her, watching her anxiously from the window, but she ignored him, heading towards the side door. She paused before she entered, and then whistled.

  There was a crackling sound from the fence, and then a bright red spot appeared in the wood near the bottom. A small, cat shaped hole burnt through the wood and Ifri appeared, scampering happily after Maine. The Firstborn watched fearfully as she held the door open for the still glowing cat, and then stepped inside after him.

  Firstborn lay moaning and bleeding all around her in droves, as other frantic members tried to tend to them. Some looked to have been shot, others beaten, some even burned. Maine stared, looking around in shock.

  “Easy there!” the Halfling said, running up to her, still holding his pistol on her. There was a bandage on his arm, and now that she was closer, she could see he now sported a black eye.

  The Goblin was right behind him. Even he looked a bit battered, his glasses cracked and hastily mended. He held them tightly to keep them from hopping off his short, upturned nose as he ran. “Just calm down, Thumbell! She’s not going to cause any trouble,” he cautioned him, before looking closely at Maine. “You aren’t, are you?”

  “No, I’m here to help!” she insisted. “We’ve got a plan to get you out, but you’ve got to hurry! Get everyone into the wagons! We’re going to clear the men in front of the gate, and then you can run!” As they stared at her, she looked around quickly. “Where’s Marsha?” she asked.

  Thumbell lowered his pistol, and the Goblin bowed his head, suddenly looking nervous. “Follow me,” he motioned to her.

  They led her quickly through the garage. “It’s been hard going!” the Goblin said to her over the sound of gunfire. “We saw the fires and ran out to help, only to be ambushed! We lost a lot of good people…” Maine nodded, but was distracted as she saw the wagons parked nearby, still laden down with crates and boxes from the robbery. Some of the crates had been opened, their contents laid out carefully on the floor with tags and notes still attached. It oddly reminded Maine of the library from the day of the Auction, with each item being carefully inspected and prepared for sale. She noticed, however, as they rushed by that there were now fresh names scrawled on the tags here and there - like Elven bronze and jade bracelet, origin circa 1A year 353 - distinctive markings of Glymmerdun family royal insignia - HOLLY GLIMMERDOWN. Or Naga War Pipes, origin circa 2A year 1274, clan patterns on side point to western Egyptian tribes as makers - Naja Haje Family.

  She stared, trying to see more, but they hurried her on, pushing her towards the front of the garage, where the fight was still going on. Firstborn were firing out the windows, or through holes in the wall, trying to keep Trimble’s men back. Maine could see the Humans advancing through the yard, running from cover to cover, and advancing steadily. A rough barricade of barrels and scrap had been thrown up in front of the door, and there behind it, laying on the floor, was Marsha, gray-faced and sweating as she clutched a deep wound in her side.

  The one-eyed female Elf from before, Celeste, Maine remembered her name, was hovering over Marsha, trying to pad the wound, but the larger woman kept squirming. “Keep shooting!” she bellowed, waving her hand at the other Firstborn. “We’ve just got to hold out until reinforcements get here!” She noticed the Goblin standing nearby. “Vaux! Get more men up here! Anyone who can fight!”

  Vaux jumped, clutching at his glasses. “Ri-Right, of course!” He scurried off as Thumbell pulled Maine down low, sheltering beside Celeste and Marsha. The Firstborn leader stared at Maine, then pointed a blood-stained hand at her.

  “What the hell are you doing here, Maierson?”

  Thumbell leaned over the barrels, firing his pistol rapidly into the yard. “We don’t really know if it’s her yet,” he said, ducking back down into cover. “It could be another Human in disguise.”

  Maine ignored him. “I’m here to get you out!” The top of a barrel near her head exploded into fragments and she cried out, ducking down.

  “Did you bring an army?” Marsha asked grimly. Maine shook her head. “Do you have a plan?”

  “Kinda…”

  “It’s her, alright,” she said. She winced suddenly and glared at Celeste. “Do you have to bind it up so tight!?”

  “Excuse me for trying to keep you alive!” the Elf snapped. She glanced at Maine. “How did you get in here anyways? Those bastards have all the entryways sealed up.”

  “We came in over the walls,” Maine pointed, “by the back of the yard. They were trying to come over there too, but we stopped them.”

  Both Marsha and Celeste looked at her. “We?”

  There was a shout from the back of the garage and they turned to see Dandy limping inside, his arms around the spotted gray dog from before. “Dandy!” Maine cried.

  “Is this all you brought?” Marsha snapped. “Oh we’re definitely saved now!”

  Dandy slumped down to the floor as the dog began to change, twisting and growing in size. Maine blushed, hiding her eyes as Dakota appeared. There were startled oaths from the Firstborn and Thumbell pointed his gun, but Celeste held his arm, shaking her head.

  “James Ray Dakota, Deputy US Marshal Special Division,” Dakota said tersely, looking around the room. Many of the Firstborn were glaring at him, as if he were as bad as the Humans in the yard. Marsha though, grinned through bloody teeth.

  “Are we under arrest, officer?”

  “No, we’re going to get you out of here,” he told her. “What happens after that, we can decide later.” He pointed back to the wagons. “Get your people loaded up into those wagons. As soon as I give the signal, my partner will clear off all the men in front of the gates. Then you’ve got to run, and not look back!”

  She grunted, sitting up with effort, though Celeste tried to hold her down. “No chance! We’ve got reinforcements on their way, we can hold out!”

  “Your men are already dead out there!” he shouted over her. “No one’s coming to help! This is your only way!”

  “Listen to him!” Maine urged her. “Load up everyone you can!”

  Marsha stared, her eyes flickering with indecision, but before she could speak, Celeste answered for her. “Load all the wounded into the wagons! Clear everything out to make room if you have to, just move!” As the Firstborn started to scramble, she grabbed Thumbell’s arm. “Take five men and keep those bastard’s occupied,” she told him grimly. He grinned wickedly, spinning the chamber of his pistol.

  “This is mutiny,” Marsha muttered as Celeste started to drag her back towards the wagons.

  “We’re equal partners, remember?” she answered, gritting her teeth as she pulled her.

  Maine meanwhile knelt behind the barrels, rummaging through her bag. Thumbell and the remaining Firstborn were still firing at the advancing men; they were no longer aiming carefully, just firing as quickly as they could, trying to keep them back. He stared at her and yelled, “What are you doing?”

  “Helping,” she said tersely. She found a fresh packet of ink balls, and fit three of them into the cup of her slingshot. Leaning quickly over the barrels, she aimed and fired at the entrance to the yard. The balls hit one of the men running in through gates and he disappeared into a huge inky cloud. She scooped more balls into her cup and began to pepper the yard, firing rapidly until most of it was lost in a vast black fog. They could hear the men shouting and yelling in the yard, unable to see more than a few inches. Thumbell stared over the edge of the barricade, grinning broadly. “Nice work!”

  He jerked his hand back towards the wagons. “Now get back there and help with the others.”

  She nodded and scurried towards the back of the garage. There, Firstborn were shoving crates off the wagons, clearing room as they loaded groaning people inside. As another box hit the ground with a crash, she heard Marsha shout, “Argh! Careful!”

  Five Firstborn were struggling to lift the large woman up and into one of the wagons, while Celeste stood nearby, trying to direct the chaos.

  “Just hold on, Mar!” she called to her. “They’ll get you settled down in one second.”

  “It’s not me!” Marsha yelled. She pointed and winced as another crate fell to the floor. “Are we just supposed to let those bastards steal all of this back?” One of the boxes spilled open, scattering jewelry and gold across the floor that was kicked aside as the Firstborn hurried loading the wagons with the injured. “Argh! We had plans for it!”

  “It’s the kit or our people!” Celestre reminded her. She turned, yelling loudly. “Where are the Centaurs! Get them hitched to the front of the wagons!”

  Maine saw Ifri sniffing at one of the bits of jewelry and she snatched him up quickly. She clicked open his lantern and shoved him inside. Then she hesitated, looking at all the spilled jewelry and artifacts spread out over the floor. It was right there, everything they’d stolen! Unable to help herself any longer, she knelt down quickly, scooping everything she could into her bag. She’d stuffed it nearly to bursting, when she felt someone standing right behind her.

  Celeste was looking down coldly at her. She glanced at her bag, filled with loot, then at the Firstborn, still struggling to load up the wagon. “You said you wanted to help?” she reminded her. “Well there’s still plenty you could do.”

  She turned and stalked off, leaving Maine crouched on the floor, flushed with shame. She bit her lip, staring at the bulging bag, and then saw the Firstborn struggling to load more people into the wagons. She tried to get up and help, but found herself staggering under the weight of her bag. Groaning, she dropped it and started to dump out everything she’d just gathered. When it was in a pile on the floor, she got up, looking for someone to help, but unfortunately, there wasn’t anyone her size nearby. The only person she did see was an old, craggy Troll limping slowly forwards. She hurried over and took his hand, her fingers disappearing in his grip as she guided him towards the nearest wagon.

  “Oh, that’s very kind of you,” he muttered in thanks. He took hold of the side struts, trying to pull himself up into the wagon bed, only for it to sag downwards from his weight. As the groaning people inside started to shift and roll, more Firstborn hurried forwards to help lift him up. It ended up taking ten of them, Maine herself braced behind his backside, to hoist him up and into the wagon bed. As it sunk down and settled with his weight, the Firstborn gave a great cheer. Celeste climbed up onto the lead wagon, looking around.

  “Is that everyone?” A few people nodded, and she motioned to the doors. Maine scrambled to climb up beside her. Dandy was already sitting beside her, his head bobbing weakly.

  “Make for Doctor Paicus’” she said to Celeste. “He’s closest.”

  She nodded impatiently. Gunshots whined into the garage, hitting one of the struts of the wagon. Maine ducked down, looking ahead. The inky cloud had faded in the yard, and the men were advancing in numbers. Thumbell and the rest were falling back, firing as quickly as they could. “Where’s that Marshall and his signal?” Celeste cried.

  There was a scramble of feet, and the gray-spotted dog hopped into the wagon, tongue hanging out excitedly. His chest seemed to swell, and started to howl, his voice filling the garage. Maine covered her ears.

  Suddenly, out in the street, there was an answering roar. The men’s gunfire tapered off, only to be replaced by screams. Maine stared forwards, seeing a huge shape appear in front of the broken gate. There were flashes of light, and random gunfire, and then men started to fly through the air, tumbling head over heels as they hit the wall, even sailing over the fence to land painfully in the yard. In a moment, Trimble’s men were all in disarray, and the gate was clear. Celeste waved her hand.

  “GO!”

  The first Centaur sprang forwards, pulling with all his might. The wagon groaned, loaded well past capacity, but muscles straining, he got it up to speed. He barreled forwards, into the yard, knocking a few of Trimble’s men aside, heading for the gate, but the rest turned their guns on the wagon, shooting wildly. A bullet hit the side of the wagon near Maine and she ducked down. Then Maine heard another scream.

  Rats! Hundreds, maybe thousands of rats were crawling into the yard, pouring in through gaps and under the fence. They ignored the wagons, but swarmed over the men, biting and clawing. They screamed, throwing down their guns, to try and run or bat them off, but there were so many. As Maine stared in shock, there was a tiny scramble of feet, and a lone rat climbed up one of the strats beside her and into the wagon. With a wink of its green eyes, it started to clean its snout calmly, waiting for the wagon to move.

  “GO!” Celeste screamed again, and the Centaurs surged forwards. The first wagon jumped as they smashed through the broken gate, and Maine had a glimpse of a huge shape to their side, roaring as it smashed into Trimble’s men, and then they were gone, rattling down the street, disappearing into the night.