either side, sweeping them back and forth to claim every Stahlhast she could see. Within moments the entire line of charging warriors had been reduced to blackened smears on the cobbles.
Jihla went to her knees, her flames fading as she huddled, a small weeping figure amidst the ashen ruin. She fell limp when Vaelin gathered her up, feeling the chill of her flesh despite the heat of the burning city. Turning, he sprinted towards the gate with the Gifted in his arms, shouting for the others to follow. The gates swung closed behind them with a thunderous boom.
* * *
◆ ◆ ◆
“After Alltor, I had hoped never to see a city burn again.”
Nortah’s face was grim as he surveyed the fires below. It had continued to blaze throughout the night, three separate infernos eventually merging to form a great ring of fire. The screams were the only indication of the scale of the injury they had dealt their enemy, reaching a shrieking crescendo as the fires fully encircled the second tier. Here and there Vaelin caught glimpses of figures running through the haze, some alight, others not, but all either maddened or frantic, judging by their screams. Come the morning the fires had diminished but not died, large sections of the lower city continuing to burn as the sun became an occluded yellow disc through the smoke.
“Destruction, it appears,” Nortah went on, a ghost of his old smile on his lips, “is our principal gift to the world, brother.”
His company had managed to convey Eresa to the second tier after setting light to most of the eastern quarter, but had lost twenty men in doing so, some to the fires, others to the flame-wreathed Stahlhast.
“Salvation too, on occasion,” Vaelin replied, nodding to the as yet undamaged streets behind. The soldiers had gathered in the various squares and parks to celebrate what they evidently saw as a great victory. Their general for once forsook the harsh discipline of Merchant soldiery to allow them a few hours’ licence. Consequently, the night had been rich in song, drink and revels whilst the lower tier burned. The raucousness died away come the dawn, leaving a host of inebriates sleeping off their indulgence whilst others staggered to their billets to catch what few hours’ rest they could before officers summoned them back to their banners.
“What was that last night?” Nortah said. “I’ve seen a great many things wrought by the Dark, but never the sight of men continuing to fight as fire eats their flesh down to the bone.”
“Juhkar and Ahm Lin were both on the walls,” Vaelin said. “They sensed no Gifted amongst the flames, apart from one. He was there.”
“And that was enough to keep them fighting?” Nortah raised an eyebrow, shaking his head. “Perhaps he truly is a god after all. A joke, brother,” he added, catching Vaelin’s baleful glance. “Look on the sunward side. If he really was amongst all that”—he gestured to the ruined conurbation below—“maybe we killed the bastard.”
Vaelin’s gaze roamed the smoke-shaded streets, experiencing the kind of certainty once conveyed by his song. I have no song, he reminded himself, experiencing the old, raw sense of regret he knew might never fade. But still, the certainty persisted. “No,” he said. “We didn’t.”
They made their way to the temple shortly after, Vaelin being keen to check on Jihla, whom he had placed in Sherin’s care. Passing through the gate to the uppermost tier, he paused at the sight of Cho-ka and a dozen or so Skulls remonstrating with an officer of the city garrison. The officer had a squad of spearmen at his back, all mirroring his expression of disdain as he addressed the former convicts.
“I’ll have you flogged, you hear me!” he growled, jabbing a meaty finger into Cho-ka’s chest. “Worthless thieving scum that you are!”
A flash of annoyance passed over the corporal’s face as his hand slid towards the knife on his belt but stopped when he caught sight of Vaelin’s approach. “My lord!” he said, snapping to attention along with the other Skulls. The garrison officer and his men followed suit, but with markedly less alacrity.
“Is there a problem here?” Vaelin enquired.
“Found this lot up to their old ways, my lord!” the officer said. Vaelin recognised him as a former sergeant newly promoted to captain thanks to the loss of so many officers during the first attacks. He had the habitual scowl and bearing Vaelin recognised as one who had spent more time combatting outlaws than