The Daylight War by Peter V. Brett

circle around a central boardwalk with a great well at its eye. There were wardposts along the outer perimeter, and each house had two storeys, the top for living and the bottom a work space/shopfront. There was a smithy, a tavern, a stable, a baker, a weaver, and others less easily identified.
    Renna felt unnerved as they crossed the boardwalk to the stable. Everything was so well preserved. There was no sign that demons had come, and it seemed that at any moment, people would come pouring out of the buildings. She could see their ghosts in her mind’s eye as they went about their lives.
    ‘Boardwalk was full of bones and blood and demonshit when I got in close,’ Arlen said. ‘Still stank, as if it had only been a few days. Days! If only I’d come sooner, I could have …’
    Renna touched his arm, saying nothing.
    ‘One of the wardposts looked like it cracked and blew over in the wind,’ Arlen went on. ‘Wood demons must’ve found the gap and fell on the folk at evening supper. A few fled into the night, but I tracked them and found only remains.’
    Renna could picture it vividly, the Wellers all gathered around the wooden tables on the boardwalk, sharing a communal meal, completely unprepared when the corelings struck. She could hear the screams and see the dying. Dizzied by it all, she dropped to her knees as her stomach churned.
    Arlen put his hand on her shoulder a moment later, and Renna realized she’d been weeping. She looked up at him guiltily.
    ‘Ent nothin’ to be ashamed of,’ he said. ‘Took it a fair bit worse myself.’
    ‘What did you do?’ Renna asked.
    Arlen blew out a breath. ‘Blacked out a few weeks. Spent the days burying bones, drunk on poteen, and the nights killing every corespawn that came within ten miles of Sweetwell.’
    ‘Saw fresh tracks on the way in,’ Renna noted.
    Arlen grunted. ‘They’ll be bonfires come tomorrow morning.’
    Renna put her hand on the hilt of her knife, spitting on the boardwalk. ‘Honest word.’
    They moved on to the stable, and Arlen eased Twilight Dancer down to the floor. He grunted with the exertion, but managed the task easily enough. Renna shook her head, doubting she could have done the same even when charged with magic in the night.
    ‘We’ll need some water,’ Arlen said.
    ‘I’ll fetch it,’ Renna said, turning towards the central well. ‘Want to taste water so sweet they named a town after it.’
    Arlen grabbed her arm. ‘Water ent too sweet any more. Found Kennit Sweetwell, the town elder, floating in the well. Rotted for more’n a week before I could climb down and haul what was left of him up. Well’s poison now. Pump behind the tavern still runs clean, but it ent anything to name a town over.’
    Renna spat again, fetching a bucket and heading to the tavern. Again, her hand drifted to her knife, caressing the bone handle. Night couldn’t come soon enough.
    When Dancer was seen to, they took time to wash and ate a cold meal in the empty tavern. ‘There’s a rent room upstairs,’ Arlen said. ‘We can get a few hours’ sleep before night falls.’
    ‘Rent room?’ Renna asked. ‘When there are whole houses for the taking?’
    Arlen shook his head. ‘Dun’t feel right to take someone else’s bed after they been cored. That room was where I slept when I was a Messenger, and it’s good enough.’
    Love
you, Arlen Bales
, she thought, but there was no need to repeat what had already been said. She nodded and followed him up the stairs.
    Even the rent room was bigger than any Renna had ever slept in before, with a large feather bed. Renna sat on it, amazed at its softness. She had never slept on anything softer than a straw mattress. She lay back. This was softer than a cloud.
    Her eyes wandered the room as she sank further into the feathery embrace. Arlen had clearly spent some time here. There was his signature clutter on every surface – pots of paint, brushes, etching tools, and books. A small writing desk had