The streets of Myr were a slaughterhouse. Blood and fire filled the alleys as the city's new masters moved to eliminate the last vestiges of Magister Karasso's supporters. Gendry gripped his warhammer, his eyes scanning the approaching enemy. It was a motley force: the city watch, sellswords from a dozen different companies, and the new Magister's personal guard, all mixed together. Tyroshi with their purple beards fought alongside fair-haired Lyseni and brown-skinned Meereenese. They outnumbered the Wolf Pack several times over.
The surviving men of the Wolf Pack formed a wedge, a cornered beast preparing for its final, desperate charge toward the city's outer gate. "Cover me!" Dick the Fletch yelled, and the men raised their shields around him. The old archer's longbow sang, and with each shot, another enemy rider fell, his arrows momentarily keeping the closing circle at bay.
The leader of the besieged group, a middle-aged man with steel-spiked gauntlets already stained with blood, stumbled toward them. "You came!" he cried, tears streaming down his face.
"Where is the commander, Steel-Fist?" Handsome asked, though he already knew the answer.
"Magister Joey of the firegrass guild betrayed us," Steel-Fist choked out. "Karasso and his family were poisoned at a banquet. The commander tried to get them out, but Joey and his allies from the Seafarers' Guild had Unsullied and pit fighters waiting. The commander and four of our brothers fell. We barely escaped."
"Joey?" Handsome was stunned. "He was Karasso's closest ally."
"Nothing is impossible in Myr," Steel-Fist said bitterly. "When Karasso died, his seat on the council went to Joey and the pirate he'd brought into his family. It was a trick. A coup."
"The commander gave me this," he said, holding out a ring. It was heavy, made of black iron and bronze, with a proud wolf's head and ancient runes of the First Men carved into it. It was the symbol of the Wolf Pack's leadership. "After him, you are the commander."
"There's no time," Handsome said, taking the ring. "We have to get out of Myr."
"The East Gate," Steel-Fist urged. "Its defenses are weak."
"No," Handsome whispered. "Too many will be waiting. We have another way. A secret way."
Suddenly, a new horn blast cut through the chaos. A line of men in spiked bronze helmets and black leather armor appeared, moving with perfect, unnerving precision. They carried shortswords, spears, and shields, and they advanced in a flawless formation.
"Unsullied!" a cry went up from the enemy ranks. The morale of the city watch, which had wavered under the longbows' assault, instantly returned. They surged forward, cheering for the legendary slave-soldiers who had saved Qohor from the Dothraki.
"Damn the Myrmen and their coin," Handsome cursed. "The Unsullied do not ride. We will push them back, then retreat!" He, Steel-Fist, Gendry, and Longspear charged to meet the disciplined line.
The Unsullied were silent, expressionless killing machines. Their movements were a blur of coordinated death. Gendry's hammer crashed against a spear shaft. The soldier was impossibly fast and strong, a product of brutal training and the courage-inducing "wine of courage" they drank from boyhood. Longspear's weapon darted like a viper's tongue, but the Unsullied shield wall was seamless.
"Don't get bogged down!" Handsome shouted. "They feel no pain!"
Gendry raised his hammer, feinted at an Unsullied's head, then, as the soldier raised his shield to block, Gendry twisted. He brought the hammer down in a brutal arc, not at the man's head, but at his chest. The Unsullied let out a muffled grunt and collapsed. *Leather armor,* Gendry thought, a cold, predatory calm settling over him. *That is my only chance.*
He ducked under a spear thrust and snatched the fallen soldier's shield. The battle became a blur of motion. The enemy's movements seemed slow, clumsy. All Gendry had to do was overpower them. His hammer rose and fell, a black storm of death. The Unsullied were disciplined, but their leather armor was no match for the brutal, crushing force of the warhammer in the hands of a man with the strength of a god. He roared, a sound like a great stag bellowing its challenge, and the Unsullied began to fall before him.
"Now!" Handsome yelled, pulling him back. They had created an opening. "To the tunnel! We have to go now!"