when Namior glared up at him.
“I’m going back out,” she said. Kel smiled and nodded, then offered her the mug.
They drank the tea quickly. It coursed through their bodies, tingled in their muscles, giving strength where tiredness had set in and lessening the pain of cuts and sprains. Namior conversed with her mother, then nodded at Kel and opened the front door.
Outside, the air smelled of the bottom of the sea.
“What did she say?” Kel asked.
“She told me to look after you.” Namior chuckled as she led the way back down the narrow path. To Kel, her laugh sounded almost hysterical.
On the main path along the hillside, people were hurrying in both directions. Kel could see no real sign of organization; everyone was on their own mercy mission. A woman hobbled past holding a child beneath each arm, her face grim behind the mask of blood she wore. At first he feared the children were dead, but then a little girl looked up at him and grinned, as though this was the greatest adventure ever. Despite himself, Kel smiled back.
Namior started heading back downhill. Kel grabbed her arm.
“Namior, there may be more waves,” he said. He could see that she understood that, but there was a defiance born of desperation in her eyes. Their friends had been down there. Kel had seen the vague outlines of people struggling through the ruined harbor across the bridge from where they had stood. Trakis and Mell had probably made it across, searching for Mell’s parents in the ruins, and the second wave …
“They’re dead, aren’t they?” she said, tears blurring her eyes for the first time. Shock could do that, Kel knew, protect you against the truth. By the Black, he was as aware of that as anyone.
“We can’t know that,” he said. “We don’t even know they got that far. But we can’t just rush down there, not yet. Not when there might be more.”
Kel could hear the roar of the waters receding once again, and combined with that sound were the impacts of rocks, the grinding of parts of Pavmouth Breaks being sucked out to sea.
Namior wiped angrily at her face. “But there are plenty of people who need help up here.”
“There are.” Kel pulled her close and kissed her cheek, and he was surprised at the comfort he took from the contact.
What’s coming?
he thought. During his time in the Core, he’d developed something of a reputation for only seeing the bad in things, only anticipating the worst. Often, he’d been right.
What in the Black could have done this?
He turned slightly, looking over Namior’s shoulder and out to sea. It seemed calmer now, and though a storm boiled on the horizon, closer in to shore the sky was clear enough still to allow moonlight through. That would help the rescuers, at least. But the sea itself was dark, forbidding, and no one really knew what lay over the horizon. Over the years many, such as Namior’s father, had gone to find out. None had returned.
Of all people he, a Core member, knew that there was more beyond the horizon than sea.
The long night stretched out before them, and at its end Kel had the feeling that many things would be different. Not just the ruin brought down upon the village, the deaths and destruction that everyone would have to start coming to terms with. But
changed
.
A man shouted behind them, a woman screamed and somebody called, “My dada!”
“Come on,” Namior said. She led the way and Kel followed, and for a brief flash she could have been O’Peeria, leading the way to her death with Kel following blindly behind.
THEY SPENT THE rest of that night trying to help the wounded, the lost, the bereft. The Moon Temple doors had been forced open and it became their temporary hospital, the old one having been down behind the harborfront. Kel and Namior spent a while finding wounded people and helping them to the Temple, but then her position as a witch-in-training dictated that she should remain there, using her fledgling skills to heal wounds
“I’m going back out,” she said. Kel smiled and nodded, then offered her the mug.
They drank the tea quickly. It coursed through their bodies, tingled in their muscles, giving strength where tiredness had set in and lessening the pain of cuts and sprains. Namior conversed with her mother, then nodded at Kel and opened the front door.
Outside, the air smelled of the bottom of the sea.
“What did she say?” Kel asked.
“She told me to look after you.” Namior chuckled as she led the way back down the narrow path. To Kel, her laugh sounded almost hysterical.
On the main path along the hillside, people were hurrying in both directions. Kel could see no real sign of organization; everyone was on their own mercy mission. A woman hobbled past holding a child beneath each arm, her face grim behind the mask of blood she wore. At first he feared the children were dead, but then a little girl looked up at him and grinned, as though this was the greatest adventure ever. Despite himself, Kel smiled back.
Namior started heading back downhill. Kel grabbed her arm.
“Namior, there may be more waves,” he said. He could see that she understood that, but there was a defiance born of desperation in her eyes. Their friends had been down there. Kel had seen the vague outlines of people struggling through the ruined harbor across the bridge from where they had stood. Trakis and Mell had probably made it across, searching for Mell’s parents in the ruins, and the second wave …
“They’re dead, aren’t they?” she said, tears blurring her eyes for the first time. Shock could do that, Kel knew, protect you against the truth. By the Black, he was as aware of that as anyone.
“We can’t know that,” he said. “We don’t even know they got that far. But we can’t just rush down there, not yet. Not when there might be more.”
Kel could hear the roar of the waters receding once again, and combined with that sound were the impacts of rocks, the grinding of parts of Pavmouth Breaks being sucked out to sea.
Namior wiped angrily at her face. “But there are plenty of people who need help up here.”
“There are.” Kel pulled her close and kissed her cheek, and he was surprised at the comfort he took from the contact.
What’s coming?
he thought. During his time in the Core, he’d developed something of a reputation for only seeing the bad in things, only anticipating the worst. Often, he’d been right.
What in the Black could have done this?
He turned slightly, looking over Namior’s shoulder and out to sea. It seemed calmer now, and though a storm boiled on the horizon, closer in to shore the sky was clear enough still to allow moonlight through. That would help the rescuers, at least. But the sea itself was dark, forbidding, and no one really knew what lay over the horizon. Over the years many, such as Namior’s father, had gone to find out. None had returned.
Of all people he, a Core member, knew that there was more beyond the horizon than sea.
The long night stretched out before them, and at its end Kel had the feeling that many things would be different. Not just the ruin brought down upon the village, the deaths and destruction that everyone would have to start coming to terms with. But
changed
.
A man shouted behind them, a woman screamed and somebody called, “My dada!”
“Come on,” Namior said. She led the way and Kel followed, and for a brief flash she could have been O’Peeria, leading the way to her death with Kel following blindly behind.
THEY SPENT THE rest of that night trying to help the wounded, the lost, the bereft. The Moon Temple doors had been forced open and it became their temporary hospital, the old one having been down behind the harborfront. Kel and Namior spent a while finding wounded people and helping them to the Temple, but then her position as a witch-in-training dictated that she should remain there, using her fledgling skills to heal wounds
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