“It’s okay to sleep as well. You’re safe here.” Her words were like lead to my eyes and I felt them closing long before I could stop them.
Chapter 30
Faylinn
Iwoke sometime later to the feeling of Sharol shaking me awake by my shoulder.
“Up! Wake up, Fay,” her voice was whispered and urgent and my eyes flew open, my body quickly following.
“How long was I asleep?” I yawned and rubbed my eyes, trying to massage the sleep from them.
“It doesn’t matter. A few hours, maybe?” She was rushing around the first floor moving tables aside and laying large swathes of cloth down. “I put the box of your things behind the counter. It’s safe,” she added as I went to grab it, “but I suggest you leave it there for now. We’re about to have company, and a lot of it. Help me spread these out, would you?”
I worked with her to quickly shove the chairs and tables to the walls and corners of the room before covering the wood floor in a variety of stained sheets. What the stains were, I really didn’t want to think about. She threw a few larger, more padded quilts at me and I watched as she deftly folded them to create what looked like small beds. I quickly followed her movements, spacing the makeshift beds a few feet apart.
Satisfied that I would continue the work, Sharol moved to the fireplace, the size of which dominated the majority of the wall opposite the bar.Sharol deftly stoked the flames, allowing them to climb almost to the top of the opening, and the room quickly filled with heat. Unconcerned, Sharol moved a large pot of water over the open flame and walked back to the bar, her long brown skirt swishing about her booted feet, avoiding the beds that we had just laid out.
“Help me pull out the alcohol bottles, Fay,” she commanded, never looking up from her work. I stood up quickly from the floor, sweat already trailing down my back from the heat of the roaring fire, and made my way to stand next to Sharol behind the bar. We worked in silence, quickly pulling every bottle of liquor from the shelves and placing it open on top of the bar.
“Why are we doing this?” I finally asked as we finished with the alcohol.
Sharol stopped and stood from where she was crouched under the bar, the remaining three liquor bottles in her hands, and my eyes were immediately drawn to her face. Her gaze was hard, a steel glint reflected there. She set the last bottles down on the counter and pushed them to the edge before she spoke.
“The rebellion is here.”
“How do you know that?” Just before she answered, I heard the sounds of shattering glass and high-pitched screaming. As one, Sharol and I ran to the same window where we watched unspeakable things happen to the Librarian.
What I saw through the window made me gasp and I covered my mouth in abject horror. It seemed like the entire street was awash in flame—businesses completely engulfed in a fiery blaze, thick, black smoke billowed, and fire licked the sky from smashed windows. Shadows of figures hanging from the jagged glass, faces awash in pain highlighted by the light of the fire would forever be etched in my memory, their screams of pain and horror a soundtrack that would replay over and over.
And what I saw in the street made my stomach turn, threatening to empty its nonexistent contents. Mages, though not the same ones from earlier, had villagers surrounded and corralled into small groups lining the streets, while other Mages continued to set buildings alight and unceremoniously throw anyone left alive into one of the guarded groups. Women wailed and children screamed as they were separated, whether on purpose or unwittingly I didn’t know.
“What is happening? And why can we hear them?”
“I lowered the Air Wards on the windows,” Sharol explained, “we need to be able to hear what happens so we can help when the time comes.” She gave me a pointed look.
Suddenly our purpose here dawned on me, and I was awash in shame that I didn’t figure it out earlier. “The beds . . . the boiling water, the alcohol,” I stammered, “we’re the healing quarters, aren’t we?”
Sharol set her lips in a grim line and nodded once. “Can you handle that, Healer?”
I dropped my hands from my face and shook the tension from my shoulders.
“Yes,” I mumbled, and Sharol raised an eyebrow. “Yes, I can,” I said with more confidence.
Sharol and I watched the scene play out in front of us and I eventually had to separate my mind and emotions from what I was seeing. It was a place I went when I treated anyone, really, because if I let emotion guide my actions rather than logic, I could make decisions that harmed my patient, or worse, killed them.
“Why aren’t they attacking here?” I wondered out loud.
“Protection Runes, Deterrent Runes. You name it, it’s probably etched and inked on this building.”
I eyed my mentor. “Any other secrets you want to tell me before we die?” I gestured to the street, the city still awash in flames and screams.
Sharol’s smile was slightly unhinged and full of darkness when she turned to me. “Many. But we’ll start with one. Blood is magic, Fay. You’ll learn that soon enough.” Then she turned back to the window.
We watched as businesses crumbled from the weight of burning roofs and walls. We watched as men, women, and children were wrenched from each other, covered in ash and screaming in desperation. We watched as bodies were pulled from burning buildings, scorched beyond recognition. We heard the cries for help, the cries for parents from terrified children, the dying cries of adults seeking their mothers in the last moments of their lives.
And through it all, we simply watched and listened.
A part of me was selfishly glad that we were out of harm’s way and that the damage was concentrated on this part of the street, away from Holt’sstore. My stomach churned at the thought of him being one of the people on the streets. He couldn’t leave well enough alone and definitely wouldn’t be able to sit by while others suffered, especially those he considered family.
