Free The Equen Queen by Alyssa Brugman Page B

cloudy purple, it was an angry, pulsating green.
    She heard footsteps, and shoved the gem in her pocket again. A marine, Verris's right-hand man, Borges, ran towards her, his face blanched white with panic. He stumbled on a cobblestone, and let out a girlish shriek. He thrust out his hands to steady himself, regained his balance and sprinted on, around the corner and out of sight.
    Others came, each with the same look of horror on their faces. Then more still, rushing along the street – pushing the slower ones out of the way. Tab saw an older woman hit the wall not far from her. She scrabbled on her hands and knees for a few paces and then hauled herself up again, oblivious to the long gash in her shin.
    Tab noticed a few trolls amongst the crowd too, their ugly faces drawn into a grimace. She shrank back, feeling the cool of the wall on her hands. It took a lot to frighten a troll.
    The horrible screeching noise sounded again. Tab's stomach rolled over in a sickening lump. She steadied herself against the wall, sure that she was going to throw up.
    The people in the street lurched at the sound too. Some of them were sick. The smell of it took a moment to reach her.

     
    So, it's not just me, Tab thought. It's not inside my head.
    The crowd started running again, citizens elbowing each other and shoving the smaller and weaker ones to the edges of the street. A child fell and her mother grabbed her by the elbow, dragging her along the street.
    Tab heard Philmon's voice calling her name. She stood on tiptoes trying to see over the heads of the surging people, but she couldn't find him.
    ‘Tab! Over here!’ he called.
    She saw an arm go up in the middle of the throng. She stepped forward and was swallowed into the tide. Several times her feet were stomped on, and she stumbled, pushing the person in front of her, trying to stay upright.
    Philmon called her name again and again. Each time his voice was closer as he moved within the flow of people, as though he was crossing a fast-running river.
    The whistling shriek sounded a third time. As one the crowd pitched. Tab could smell the vomit and hear the sound of stomachs heaving. Some Quentarans dropped to their knees, holding their ears, and were trampled. Tab held her sleeve over her mouth trying not to gag. Philmon grabbed her other arm. She took his hand, linked fingers and held on tight. Through the jostling pack she saw Amelia's face pinched and green on Philmon's other side.
    The street reached a T-intersection and the crowd split. Amelia was dragged one way and Tab the other. Philmon stretched his arms as wide as he could. His hand slipped, and his new grip on Tab's wrist was painful.
    She wrenched his hand. ‘This way!’ she insisted. ‘That way narrows. We would be crushed.’
    Philmon's face strained with effort as he dragged Amelia from the mob.
    The three renewed their grip on each other's hands and ran through the wider street. The crowd had thinned a little, and soon they were able to dash along without fear of being separated, stepped on, or trampled.
    ‘What did you see?’ Tab asked. ‘What is that sound?’
    ‘Loraskians,’ Amelia panted. ‘They've boarded us.’
    Philmon shook his head. ‘They're horrible!’
    ‘The sound – when you are close to them, it paralyses you,’ Amelia added, her eyes wide. ‘The City Watch – they're all frozen.’
    The three friends came to another intersection and started heading towards the City Wall. Tab stopped. ‘Wait!’
    She tilted her head to the side. The sound was faint at first. There it was again! The metallic gurgling, trilling noise, and something else too that she couldn't quite make out. It was a feeling that made her skin prickle.
    ‘This way.’ She directed her friends towards the City Gate.
    ‘Where are we going?’
    ‘It's the dragon,’ Amelia said.
    ‘Have we got time for that now?’ Philmon puffed.
    ‘Either way we will have to face the Loraskians,’ Tab told him. ‘We can do that