and tugged. She grunted, grinding her heels against the floor. "Come on, Orin, get up! On your feet!"
He managed to rise to his knees, coughing, breath like a saw. With strength she had not known was in her, Mori pulled him to his feet. He leaned against her, twice her weight. She thought she would collapse, but she walked, step by step, and helped Orin onto the staircase. She pulled the door shut and began walking downstairs, Orin leaning against her. As the phoenixes howled, and the fortress doors creaked, they descended with blood and tears.
Finally Mori found herself in the dungeon of Castellum Luna, a cold place of shadows, sacks of wheat, barrels of wine, and now the stench of burnt flesh. An oil lamp glowed upon a table, painting the room red. Panting, Mori lay her brother on the floor and touched his hair. His breath wheezed and his flesh still smoked.
Upstairs, she heard the fortress doors shatter. She started. Great eagle cries echoed. Even here in the dungeon, Mori felt the phoenix heat as they stormed into the hall.
"We'll be all right, Orin," she whispered and held his hot, sticky body. "They can't fit down here. The staircase is too small for them. We're safe here. We're safe. I'm going to take care of you."
He only groaned, and she felt his blood upon her, staining her gown, and she held him tight. They trembled together. Above in the hall, she heard the phoenix cries; they seemed to shake the fort, cries of hatred, rage, and bloodlust. This must be how the griffins sounded when they toppled our halls of old.
"Mori…" Orin spoke hoarsely, barely able to speak at all. "Mori, you must fly north. You are fast. You…"
He could say no more. Mori held him tight. How could she fly north? How could she escape so many phoenixes, an army of flame? Her head spun. Perhaps she should not have entered this fort, but… Orin had told her to hide here! And now he wanted her to flee? What was she to do? Her head spun, and she shook it violently.
"Rest, Orin," she whispered. "Please. Rest."
She would have to take care of things now. She would have to make the decisions. His life depended on her. Be calm, Mori, she told herself. She forced herself to take slow, deep breaths, to steady her trembling limbs.
"We'll wait here until the phoenixes leave," she whispered. "They have to leave sometime. They have to. They can't fit down here. When they go away, we'll fly north. I'll take you to the temples, to healers, Orin. They can heal you. They can… they can fix your…"
Your ravaged face, she wanted to say. Your flesh that melted off. The ruin of your left side, a wound of blood and bone. Yet could anyone save him now? And could anyone save her?
Gently she pulled back from him; their bodies parted with a sickly, sticky sound like a bandage pulled off a wet wound. In the darkness, Mori crept upstairs toward the dungeon door. Firelight burned behind it. The phoenixes stood in the main hall. She heard their cawing, the crackle of their fire. Squinting against the heat and light, Mori knelt and peeked through the keyhole.
Two phoenixes moved through the hall. Their flames torched the tapestries and trestle tables. One tossed back its head and screeched, and Mori covered her ears. She thought that screech could tear her eardrums and shatter her ribs.
Please go away, she prayed. Please please leave this place, fly away from here, and let this only be a nightmare. She clutched her luck finger behind her back, praying to it. Please send them away. Please let me just wake up and be in Nova Vita again, with Lady Lyana and Father and everyone else.
Yet the phoenixes in the hall remained. They sniffed, stirring wisps of fire upon their beaks. Stars, can they smell me? The firebirds turned toward the door where Mori hid, cawed, and stepped toward it. Their claws rained sparks. Mori caught her breath, too frightened to even flee.
They can't hurt me, she told herself. They're too big to enter the doorway. Even if they burn the door, they can't enter. And they can't burn the stone walls of the dungeon. She forced herself to breathe. We're safe here.
As she watched through the keyhole, her breath died.
The phoenixes tossed back their heads, cried so loudly that they shook the hall, and outstretched their wings. Their flames rose