thud, as if the ax had fallen, and then a scream—a scream that wouldn’t end. And more screaming.
Please. Just end this. Just end it.
But nothing happened, except for more screaming and someone shouting for help. Edyon forced his eyes open but couldn’t understand at all.
It was Broderick’s executioner shouting for help—he was on fire and grabbing at his clothes, trying to rip them off. White smoke was around his waist, curling round his chest.
The other executioner held his ax aloft over March and seemed undecided whether to continue with his job or help his friend, but before he could make his mind up, flames burst out of his mouth as if in a huge belch. His hair caught fire. The bottle of smoke at his waist cracked open, and a plume of thick white smoke puffed out around him, enveloping him completely so that all Edyon could see was the ax, which fell down toward March’s neck, and Edyon screamed into his whistle as the ax blade landed—
Where March’s head had just been. But March had moved back and was staring in shock at his executioner, whose body was now licked by flames.
All around was chaos. Shouts and screams, smoke and flames, had burst out from all the boys. Harold remained center stage, standing still, a curl of white smoke round his waist. He pulled the bottles of smoke from his belt and threw them at the crowd. Then he said, “Boys, throw the smoke away.” He thought that would save him, but as he repeated his order, white smoke came out of his mouth. “I order this to stop!” he cried, but now fire as well as smoke was pouring out of his mouth.
“I will not have this!” he shouted, and he turned round, burning Sam with the flames from his mouth. Harold’s eyes met Edyon’s, and he ran toward him, shouting, though his words were more like flaming screams. March picked up the ax and swung it round, hard and fast, into Harold’s chest. The prince fell to the ground, his twitching body engulfed in white smoke.
Harold was dead. Sam was on his knees, consumed by flames. All around, the brigade boys were burning, and the white smoke clung to them. Edyon had no idea what was happening, but the purple smoke seemed to have changed to white, and any boy who’d taken the smoke or had it in a bottle was now being attacked by it.
March had pulled Broderick to his feet, saying, “Get Rashford out of that contraption, and be careful about it. Then help the others.” Next, March was with Edyon, pulling the helmet off and asking, “Are you hurt?”
“I’m fine. But what’s happening? What’s going on?”
“I don’t know. The bottles of smoke are exploding and burning. The boys who have smoke inside them—even their bodies are catching fire.”
March freed Edyon’s hands, and Broderick released Rashford. March and Edyon helped free the remaining boy in the cage, and then they had the grim task of getting the boys off the crosses, pulling the nails out. Rashford, all the while, was talking to the boys, saying, “You’re so brave, Fitz. So brave. We’re going to live through this. And you, Kellen, and you. You’ll have some nice scars to prove all your stories are true, ’cause otherwise, who would believe it?”
The white smoke was rising up from the burning bodies of the boys and gathering in a low cloud, swirling in the courtyard. The crowd of people below were screaming and panicking. Some fled out the gates, which were no longer guarded. The white cloud of smoke hung ominously low over them, and a wisp of it dipped down and wrapped round a Calidorian man, who screamed as his clothes burst into flame.
It seemed the smoke would kill anyone it touched. Edyon shouted, “The smoke burns! Get away from the cloud. Run to the sea. Get in the water. Don’t let the smoke touch you.”
The crowd fled and March, Edyon, Rashford, and the other prisoners joined the throng, running down from the castle through the streets of Calia to the quay. The cloud seemed to follow them as if circling and looking for prey, swooping down and encircling another few men, whose hair and clothes caught fire.
“There’s nothing we can do for them,” March said. “Just run.”
They raced through the city, out of the narrow streets and to the harbor. Edyon kept hold of March’s hand as they both leaped off the quayside into the cool