down my horse bolts, back the way we came. I stare after her in horror. Then Dimia whimpers and I turn to see her pony rushing back towards me, running after mine. As he passes I reach out and grab his reins long enough for Dimia to slide from his back. Then he’s gone too, leaving my fingers red and stinging, burned from the leather whipping across my skin.
Dimia leans against a tree, pale and shaking. “What’s wrong with them?”
“I’ve no idea,” I say, though it’s not wholly true. My horse was an army mount, trained to fight. Whatever it’s running from must be terrifying. And unnatural.
“What do we do now?”
“Find out what’s going on,” I say with a lot more courage than I feel. I pull my knife out from my belt.
We find the first body lying inside the gate, his legs bent at a funny angle, his throat slit. His blood is dark and thick-looking, not fresh. Tuck, the meaner one, has been impaled, his sword pinioning him to the walls he was supposed to guard. When Dimia moans I turn and follow her gaze. The soldier who lied to get me through the gate, the one who winked at me, is hanging over the top of the tower gate wall. One eye is open, blue and staring. The other is home to an arrow, and I turn away, praying that it wasn’t one of his own and that it was fast. I didn’t know his name.
Dimia slides her hand into mine and I grip it tightly as we enter, stepping gingerly around the fallen men. Ahead of us, inside the walls of Tregellan’s second city, fires burn. We walk slowly through the merchant quarter, tunics pulled up over our noses and mouths, eyes streaming from the smoke. The light from the fire is enough to see the devastation as we approach the main square.
Everything is gone. Every shop – the baker’s, the chandler’s, the general store – all black shells, acrid smoke pouring from them. The apothecary is a wreck, the windows gaping like missing teeth, the door vanished, the insides dark and cave-like. The House of Justice is smouldering rubble, the golden bricks charred and shattered, glass reflecting the remaining flames. The village green is torn up; brown earth scores the turf like scars.
People lie prone in the debris, arms flung out, feet disappearing into piles of stone. The angles of their bodies tell me there’s no use in seeing if I can help, for no one who falls in that way will ever rise again. What was it Carys said – death favours the bold? Death has favoured everyone here equally. The green tunics of the soldiers, stripped of their weapons, the rough wool in red and blues of the people who lived here. My friends. My neighbours. I’m scared to look at the faces, turning away before recognition can punch me in the stomach. Dimia squeezes my hand, and when I look at her, tears are clearing a path through the soot on her cheeks.
We walk silently through the square and out towards the smith and masonry quarter. I strain for the sound of voices, hoping desperately someone has been left alive here. We walk past houses that have been gutted, doors torn from their frames, windows smashed on upper and lower levels. Belongings are strewn about the place, as though a giant has come in and picked up the houses, shaking them out before tossing them to the floor. Copper pots, broken pottery, bedding, wooden stools, all smashed, or dented, or crushed underfoot; nothing has been left whole, everything has been ripped out and destroyed with a deliberateness that makes me feel sick.
I peer into the house where Kirin used to live. When I see a shadow lying inside, I turn away, covering my mouth.
“Do you know any of them?” Dimia asks quietly. “Are any of your people here?”
My eyes widen and I drop her hand, taking off at a run, tripping over the possessions that litter the ground. I feel the flesh on my left knee split open and stones embed themselves in my palms but I don’t care. I force myself back to my feet, hobbling past the tavern, its shell still echoing with pops and cracks as forgotten caches of alcohol catch alight. My lungs burn from the smoke and the effort, and my thighs and calves scream at me, but I can’t stop. They live on the edge, near