Syla rubbed her face. That made sense, but… “What about the shielder? If it can be fixed… we should figure out how.”
“Do you know where it is?”
She started to answer but hesitated. Many years ago, when her mother and father had shown her and her siblings the locations of all the sky shielders in the kingdom, they’d sworn them to secrecy. More than that, Syla and her siblings had needed to promise that they wouldn’t reveal those locations to anyone, even under duress of torture. At the time, she’d been twelve and laughed away the notion that anyone would bother torturing her. Now… now it was all far too real.
“As your mother’s daughter, you should,” Fel added, “at least according to the legends. The locations and how to use the devices are supposed to be passed down to those in line to inherit the throne and protect the kingdom.”
“I know where they are.” Whether her mother would approve or not, Syla didn’t know, but she had to trust Fel. Depending on what they found in the ruins of the castle, he might be the only one she had left who shecouldtrust. “I’ve been to the ones on Castle, Harvest, and Vineyard Islands, and I had to memorize the locations of the others on maps.”
“Do you have any idea how to fix a shielder that’s broken? Or has been sabotaged?”
“No.”
“Ah. I thought your love for heinous medical tools might hint of mechanical aptitude.”
“Sorry. I just put the tools on my shelves to enjoy looking at. Also, they’re fascinating, not heinous.”
Fel’s deeply dubious grunt aptly conveyed his opposition to that opinion.
The road leveled, and he nodded toward the dark remains of the castle wall and gatehouse ahead. With the rambling ancient structure mostly made from stone, fewer fires burned up here, and the air was clearer, smelling more of the briny sea than of smoke, but Syla didn’t doubt that it was as damaged as the city. Probably more so. Even with her poor vision, she could make out huge gaps in what had been a solid wall around the courtyard, keep, barracks, and ancillary buildings inside. And was the southeast tower missing entirely? She squinted but couldn’t make out the details of what had to be rubble where it had stood.
“There’s nobody guarding the gate,” Fel said as he walked through the entrance and looked around. “Whereisthe gate?”
Syla imagined a dragon ripping the great wrought-iron portcullis from its mount and hurling it into the harbor.
“Something for a future wreck diver to find, perhaps,” she said without humor, remembering her discussion with the clerk.
Fel had to walk around huge mounds of rock and wreckage in the courtyard. The stables were completely gone. No,flattened.
Had the poor horses escaped? Syla hoped so. It was too dreadful to imagine them being snatched up and eaten by dragons.
And was that a body lying mangled amid the rubble? She couldn’t tell. Maybe she should be thankful that her spectacles were broken.
“I don’t see many wounded among the dead,” Fel said. “The dragons were either very thorough, or people escaped into the city or the tunnels under the castle. But if they did… I would have expected them to come out by now.” He looked down at something.
Another body? Though the sea breeze mostly kept Syla from smelling the odors of carnage and death, she caught a whiff of it for a moment, and her stomach twisted.
Fel glanced at her and moved quickly past the spot. “We’ll check the tunnels while we’re here. It’s possible people escaped down there but were then trapped, like we were under the roof of that shop.”
“Yes.” Dare she hope that her siblings were alive in the tunnels? Even her mother?
More and more, as Fel navigated around the wreckage and toward the keep where the royal family had their suites, Syla grew certain that she needed to find and fix the shielder. She didn’t have mechanical aptitude, but she knew engineers. There were even some in the family who used their moon-mark magic in the field.
Her aunt Tibby came to mind. She even lived in the area. Had she survived?
Not unlike Syla, her father’s sister had eschewed politics and having anything to do with governing the kingdom, and sheworked on agricultural machinery, keeping everything in order on the farms that fed the royal family and staff. Fixing magical devices left by the gods wouldn’t be Aunt Tibby’s specialty—since the shielders never needed repairs, that wouldn’t beanybody’sspecialty—but she would know more than Syla.
Unaware of her planning, Fel circled the keep, looking for a way in. Only portions of it still stood, and Syla didn’t know if her room had survived, especially if the riders had been targeting the royal family. But everyone should have been at dinner, and if the stormers had somehow known about the gathering—if they’d had a spy—they would have attacked the dining hall specifically.
Before stepping through a doorway that remained standing, Fel halted and looked back at the courtyard. Long seconds passed as he stood still, head cocked as he listened, then squinted toward the sky. He shifted Syla in his arms and set her down so he could draw his mace. He kept one hand out to support her.
Fortunately, her body had recovered enough from her healing exhaustion that she could keep her legs under her.
“Someone is nearby,” Fel said quietly. “I haven’t heard anyone, but I’ve glimpsed a few shadows moving in the courtyard.”
“Staff who survived?” Syla asked. “The Royal Protectors?”
“It’s possible.” Why did he sound skeptical? Because allies would have called out to them?
