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The horse let out an almighty neigh as it reared again, Silas ran, leapt onto the horse’s rump and clutched the saddle. The horse bucked. Only Silas’s hands, face, and neck remained in contact while the rest of his body flopped into the air. He thudded back onto the horse, every bit of breath forced out of him. He pulled forwards, chest to saddle. The horse reared and bucked. His arms burned. If he came off now, he’d be trampled to death, if not by the horse, by the surrounding crowd.
He screamed at the horse, driving his knees into its sides. Then screamed again as he grabbed at the reins and got into the saddle, kicking a man in the face who clawed at his shin. He pulled hard on the reins and dug in his heels. The horse turned and ran, bouncing him around in the saddle as it picked up speed through the smoke and heat from the burning buildings.
The main gate came fast. Four guards dangled by their necks from the portcullis, Silas nearly knocked from the saddle as one swung into him. He was out. Alive.
Silas pulled up the horse. He stroked its neck as it continued to whimper and snort. “Calm. Calm now, it’s over. We are free.” He kept the reins tight, the horse still wanting to bolt. He couldn’t blame it. Deep gashes on its front legs ran with blood. It wouldn’t be long until it went down once the adrenaline wore off. “Okay.” He slid off and let the horse run, kicking up a cloud of dust as it disappeared into the distance.
Vala. She was still in there. Probably stolen or butchered by now. He felt helpless as he turned to face the city. Smoke bellowed in thick black clouds from the castle windows and roofs of the higher buildings that peaked above the city walls. The one constant good in his fucked-up life was gone. Goodbye, Vala. A tear leaked from his swollen eye.
The sadness within him turned to rage without notice. He collapsed to his knees and screamed, beating the ground with his fists. “Why, why, why?” he shouted.
I did this, I caused it all. One stupid decision to help a boy. The biggest city in the country burned. Countless people already dead. “I have to do something. I have to stop him.”
16
Mara stood among the buildings of a small, quiet farm. Foot and hoof-prints were dotted through the mud between house, barn and stable. The small stone house was the only one that didn’t look like it might fall down soon.
Inside the house, three small wooden beds stood along one wall. The smell of recently burnt food came from the cooking pit on the opposite side. Mara searched the chests at the bottoms of the beds. The trousers and shirt that looked like they’d fit him were full of holes but were dry, and most importantly, didn’t smell of piss.
He returned to the barrels of water he’d passed by the barn, got naked, and jumped in. He’d expected it to feel nice with all the blood and dirt washed off, but it didn’t. He felt nothing. He prodded at the burns, then dug his nail into one, pus leaking out, first clear then yellow. Why doesn’t it hurt?
“What in the fuck d’you think you’re doing?” A farmer ran toward Mara, stick in hand.
Mara hopped out of the bucket and pulled on the dry clothes. “I escaped the city,” he said, pointing toward the smoke in the sky.
“What the bloody hell’s happening over there?”
“The whole city’s fighting.”
“They my boy’s clothes?”
“Mine got covered in blood. I didn’t think you’d mind.”
The farmer sighed. “Don’t worry, you can have ’em.”
Mara saw a sadness in the farmer’s eyes. His son is dead. “I need a horse.”
“Now hang on a minute, the clothes I can spare.” The farmer let out a laugh. “You got any idea how much a horse costs, young ’un?”
Mara felt the blood run hot through his veins. He picked up the covered blade from the pile of old clothes and tied it around himself.
“You look like you need a meal, my wife’ll be back from the market…” The farmer frowned. “They fighting in the market too?”
Mara approached the farmer and pressed the tip of the blade onto his stomach. “The horse, where is it?”
The farmer looked at the blade, then back into Mara’s eyes.
“Don’t try to fight. Just give me the horse, and I will go.”
The farmer tipped his head to the side. “Stable’s that way. She won’t take you far, she’s old. Long past her best.”
“Which way to Vespen?”
“Up over the mountains, that way. My horse… she’ll never make it.”
“Ssh.” Mara ran his hand across the farmer’s cheek.
The farmer’s eyes went wide. “What is this? My son? How?” he whispered.
