nothing left for us here. No one could have survived this. Mother, Father, and Jak are in Maeana’s hall now.”
The tears threatened to start flowing again.
His tone gentle, Nikalys continued, “It hurts, I know. But we need to get moving. That mage might come back. And I doubt he would treat us kindly if he found us here.”
“People might still need our help.”
“Short of burying them, there is no help we can give them. We need to get far away from here, as quickly as we can.”
She wanted to protest more, knowing that if she acknowledged that he was right it meant letting go the hope that their parents and brother were still alive. It took her a few moments, but that was what she did. She wiped away her tears with hands, leaving streaks of ochre clay on her face, and nodded.
“Fine. Let’s go.”
Giving her a final squeeze, Nikalys released her and moved back toward the chest of drawers he had been trying to open.
“Now, let’s get this up and see if there is anything inside worth taking.”
Together, they lifted the chest up and went through the drawers, finding ruined knitting supplies, old rags, and, luckily, a change of clothes for them each. Nikalys stuffed everything of use into his satchel. The bottom drawer held a pair of women’s boots that looked as if they might fit Kenders. Grabbing them, she moved off to see what else she could scavenge.
Not too far away, she found a tinderbox still sealed tight. She opened it and was surprised to find the firesticks inside were dry. Unlike traditional flint and steel that most people used to start a fire, these sticks could be struck on the rough interior of the lid and would catch fire immediately. The wagon merchant who had brought them had needed to work hard convincing the townspeople they were not magic. A handful of people had bought some, but most were too afraid the Constables would hunt them down.
After carefully sealing the box, she dumped the firesticks into Nikalys’ leather sack.
A screech from overhead pulled the pair’s attention to the sky. Circling above them were three birds, their silhouettes black against sky.
“Blood vultures,” mumbled Kenders.
“We should leave,” Nikalys said. “We’ve been here too long.”
After a bit more hurried scavenging, they found some snare wires, a simple leather sling, and a pair of waterskins, one of which she removed from the boy with whom she had danced during Horum’s Leisure Time festival only a week past. He had been a good soul, polite and honest. Father had liked him. Closing his eyes, she said a quick prayer for him.
They collected a small sum of coin from the mud: three silver ducats and seventeen copper. More was surely scattered in the debris, but they did not have the time to look for it.
The shrieking cry of the blood vultures cut through the air again. Kenders stared up just in time to watch two birds swoop down, gliding to the ground. As horrifying as it was to be standing in a wet, muddy field filled with her dead neighbors, the thought of watching the carrion birds pick the corpses clean was worse. Kenders looked to where Nikalys had been rummaging through a dead horse’s saddlebag. The horse was still there, but Nikalys was not.
“Nikalys?!”
“Over here.”
Scurrying around a large pile of rubble, she found her brother standing on the other side, staring upward. A lone tree had somehow survived the raging torrent and was still standing, most of its branches stripped bare.
Nikalys glanced over as she arrived and said, “This is where our house was.”
Seeing only debris and the remains of broken buildings, Kenders asked, “How can you even tell?”
Nikalys pointed at the trunk. “That’s the ash tree.” Turning west, he gestured to a pile of stones, saying, “And there is the water basin that was between our house and the Turners.”
Once she got her bearings, she realized he was right. “Gods, Nik.”
Not a single log, board, or timber
The tears threatened to start flowing again.
His tone gentle, Nikalys continued, “It hurts, I know. But we need to get moving. That mage might come back. And I doubt he would treat us kindly if he found us here.”
“People might still need our help.”
“Short of burying them, there is no help we can give them. We need to get far away from here, as quickly as we can.”
She wanted to protest more, knowing that if she acknowledged that he was right it meant letting go the hope that their parents and brother were still alive. It took her a few moments, but that was what she did. She wiped away her tears with hands, leaving streaks of ochre clay on her face, and nodded.
“Fine. Let’s go.”
Giving her a final squeeze, Nikalys released her and moved back toward the chest of drawers he had been trying to open.
“Now, let’s get this up and see if there is anything inside worth taking.”
Together, they lifted the chest up and went through the drawers, finding ruined knitting supplies, old rags, and, luckily, a change of clothes for them each. Nikalys stuffed everything of use into his satchel. The bottom drawer held a pair of women’s boots that looked as if they might fit Kenders. Grabbing them, she moved off to see what else she could scavenge.
Not too far away, she found a tinderbox still sealed tight. She opened it and was surprised to find the firesticks inside were dry. Unlike traditional flint and steel that most people used to start a fire, these sticks could be struck on the rough interior of the lid and would catch fire immediately. The wagon merchant who had brought them had needed to work hard convincing the townspeople they were not magic. A handful of people had bought some, but most were too afraid the Constables would hunt them down.
After carefully sealing the box, she dumped the firesticks into Nikalys’ leather sack.
A screech from overhead pulled the pair’s attention to the sky. Circling above them were three birds, their silhouettes black against sky.
“Blood vultures,” mumbled Kenders.
“We should leave,” Nikalys said. “We’ve been here too long.”
After a bit more hurried scavenging, they found some snare wires, a simple leather sling, and a pair of waterskins, one of which she removed from the boy with whom she had danced during Horum’s Leisure Time festival only a week past. He had been a good soul, polite and honest. Father had liked him. Closing his eyes, she said a quick prayer for him.
They collected a small sum of coin from the mud: three silver ducats and seventeen copper. More was surely scattered in the debris, but they did not have the time to look for it.
The shrieking cry of the blood vultures cut through the air again. Kenders stared up just in time to watch two birds swoop down, gliding to the ground. As horrifying as it was to be standing in a wet, muddy field filled with her dead neighbors, the thought of watching the carrion birds pick the corpses clean was worse. Kenders looked to where Nikalys had been rummaging through a dead horse’s saddlebag. The horse was still there, but Nikalys was not.
“Nikalys?!”
“Over here.”
Scurrying around a large pile of rubble, she found her brother standing on the other side, staring upward. A lone tree had somehow survived the raging torrent and was still standing, most of its branches stripped bare.
Nikalys glanced over as she arrived and said, “This is where our house was.”
Seeing only debris and the remains of broken buildings, Kenders asked, “How can you even tell?”
Nikalys pointed at the trunk. “That’s the ash tree.” Turning west, he gestured to a pile of stones, saying, “And there is the water basin that was between our house and the Turners.”
Once she got her bearings, she realized he was right. “Gods, Nik.”
Not a single log, board, or timber
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