At first light, he climbed back up to the bluffs and continued south.Bastion wasn’t sure what he hoped to find on this pilgrimage, but his thoughts and gaze strayed to his right often, watching the sea.He wondered where the Yvri maiden had gone, and what had drawn her to shore.
Much like the island, he saw nothing and no one.Two cool, windy days passed, the sky dark and light by turns as clouds drifted by overhead.Only the fleeting calls of songbirds kept him company as he traversed sweeping bluffs dotted with stands of scrubby forest.
On the third morning, a smudge against the clear horizon drew his eye.Bastion traveled towards it with a growing sense of unease curdling in his stomach.By the afternoon, the smudge resolved itself into black smoke.Then the wind shifted, and an acrid scent made him cringe.
He picked up his pace, scanning the terrain for threats as he went.
Cries of distress met him as he crested a ridge and looked down upon a small fishing village.No more than a dozen charred shacks stood amid ashen snow churned to mud.Gaunt, exhausted residents hurried back and forth with buckets of water and makeshift bandages.In the shadow of the decimation, grubby children wailed in the arms of older siblings and grandparents.
Concern turned to disbelief.Bastion covered his nose against the putrid smell of burnt flesh.A dog growled at him as he approached an old woman rocking two distraught toddlers.She mumbled a song against their dirty hair as he knelt before her, whether to comfort them or herself, he couldn’t tell.
“Are you hurt, grandmother?”
Rheumy eyes lifted to assess him.When her gaze fell to the sword at his side, he expected her to recoil.Instead, they flickered with recognition and she sighed.
“You’re with the royal guard?”she asked.Bastion nodded.“Praise the goddesses!We were attacked in the night!They ransacked our homes!”
She nuzzled the older child tucked against her side as a few tears escaped her eyes.
“Who’s in charge?”Bastion asked.
The woman lifted a hand and pointed with a gnarled finger.
“There, with the healer,” she said.
Bastion turned, and his heart leapt.
The Yvri maiden.
Daylight confirmed what he’d suspected–she was beautiful, with a statuesque posture, sloping cheekbones and sharp, intelligent eyes.A storm of thoughts flooded his mind, hope and excitement briefly blinding him to the ruined village.
She knelt over a badly burned man, her face intense.Beside her, the village elder hovered, wringing his thin hands like a mouse.As he approached, Bastion saw a half-healed gash along the elder’s face and purple bruising radiating down his jaw.Bastion looked around, noting the other villagers.The worst of their injuries had been addressed but not fully healed.
The man on the ground appeared to have been pulled from the wreckage of the nearest home.Blackened skin and cloth combined with the visceral red of crusted blood.A disheveled woman held his head in her lap, and he kept his eyes locked on hers as tears streamed down his cheeks.The way his face screwed up made it clear he was in excruciating pain.He whimpered, as if holding back a scream.The village elder looked ready to vomit, but the Yvri maiden cared for the man with the compassionate detachment of a practiced healer.
A soft, blue glow emanated from her fingertips, nearly invisible in the daylight as she pulled his clothing away from the burns knitting themselves back together.Her hands hovered over one area and then another, lingering over sensitive places like his fingers and face.When she reached for his far side, Bastion’s eyes caught on the delicate pattern of scales along her arms, the dreamy blue and purple of the sea as night approached.
Her patient groaned and bit back a wail.Bastion shook his head and remembered the gravity of the situation.He tore his eyes away from her to address the elder.“What happened here?”
The man startled, hunching his shoulders and twisting his wispy beard.
“P-pirates,” the elder stammered.“In the n-night.”
Bastion furrowed his brow as he looked around.Pirates typically targeted merchant vessels and passenger ships–prey with valuables on board.From what he could see, this village had nothing.It wasn’t even vulnerable, perched on the bluffs over sheer cliffs.What could these people possibly have that pirates would want?
“Did Lord Kyrith send you?”the elder asked, his words laced with hope.
“Are you his vassals?”
“Y-yes, sir.”
An unexpected flush crept up Bastion’s neck.He knew the elder didn’t mean anything by the honorific, but it made him flinch all the same.In fact, he thought guiltily, if he hadn’t stayed in that cove an extra night, he might have come upon this village in time to defend them.
“He didn’t send me, but I’m here to help,” Bastion said.“Have you sent word of the attack?”
The elder began to shake his head, cutting off the movement with a grimace.He covered his injury with one hand.
“We can’t,” he answered.“The pirates burned the dovecote.”
