Page 29 of The Last of the Dark Lords

One of the men sprang up as we approached. "Can you help? We've got people trapped in the cabins!" He dissolved into a fit of coughing.

Cyrus swung down from his horse, unaffected by the thick smoke. My eyes were stinging and watering. I pulled my tunic up over my mouth to filter out some of the ash in the air.

"Where are they?" Cyrus projected an air of calm authority.

"My wife and daughter are in the middle cabin. Raffin's grandmother is in the one on the end. She's eighty, and her lungs haven't been right since last winter. Raffin went in after her, but he passed out before he reached the door. We dragged him back."

From behind us came a harsh, sandpaper cough. I turned to find Manod with his hand around his own neck. It was radiating a white light that leached into his skin and flesh. The symbols on his vestments were shifting and glowing. It dawned on me then that the robes he wore were an artifact of Stahkla. They must be the source of his ability to heal.

After a moment, the old priest removed his hand from his throat. "That should do it. I'll take care of the people out here. See what you can do about the ones inside."

“How close is the water from here?” Cyrus asked the men. The question didn’t sound hopeful.

"Almost half a league to the south,” one of the men replied. “It used to run through here, but..."

"Yes. All right." Cyrus turned back to me and Jelenna, who had joined us. "Jelenna, ride with the soldiers and carry back what water you can. Leave me a couple strong men. We may have to drag people out. Skye—"

"I'm not going anywhere,” I cut him off, surprised by my own vehemence.

"I wouldn't think of it. Stay by my side. I may need your help.” His eyes flickered with a quick moment of apprehension. “This is going to cost me,” he said under his breath.

My stomach tightened his words. What was he going to do? Jelenna rode back to the soldiers and barked out a quick command before heading out at a clip. They all followed her, except for two huge men that rode up to join us.

"We'll go into the middle one first. The two of you will lead the way once I've tamped down the flames. Skye, stay by me."

The two muscular giants dismounted and made their way to the front entrance of the middle cabin. There was a rude set of decaying wooden stairs that were beginning to char. The men pushed through the smoke, but they had to stop where the fire became too intense to traverse.

"What are you going to do?"

"I’m going to put it out." With that, Cyrus grabbed my upper arm, squeezing tight as he closed his eyes. The crown’s orange light pulsed and intensified. Tendrils of smoke drifted upwards from it.

I startled at a loud pop from the fire in front of us. The conflagration on the front stairs of the cabin flared and died down, shrinking to nothing. Cyrus opened his eyes, steadying himself against me.

"Come on." Cyrus gestured to the two soldiers. One of them kicked the door, which crumpled under the assault. We stepped through into the house. The smoke made it nearly impossible to see, and I couldn't help but cough.

"I can help with that." Cyrus' crown burst with energy once more, and this time it was as if the smoke in the air froze in place. He sighed, exhausted and drained. With that, the particles of ash and dust fell to the floor, clearing the field of vision and coating everything in a layer of soot.

The main room of the cabin was bare, and the walls were marked with stains of black charcoal. One of the soldiers headed up the stairwell in the back, and immediately turned back.

"There's a wall of flame at the top of the stairs,” he called out.

Cyrus moved to go up the stairs himself when a shriek came from the second floor, followed by the weak cough of a child. Cyrus' face took on a grim cast. He climbed halfway up the stairs.

"Skye, please..."

I went to him, standing a step behind. I was confused as to why my presence was needed, but I would do what I had to to save these people. The heat poured down the stairwell. It was unbearable. Cyrus gripped my shoulder and squeezed his eyes shut. As he did, something shifted inside of me, and my bones ached with a sudden, deep weariness.

In the doorway, the flames shifted and morphed, forming shapes as they burst forth, grabbing at Cyrus. Then the fire died down to nothing.

Cyrus opened his eyes, and collapsed down into a seated position, breathing heavily. I reached down to help him up, but he waved me off.

"Go up to the next floor. Help them."

His face was marked with soot and deeply lined with exhaustion. However he was doing this, it was taking a toll. I shoved my concern aside as I squeezed past him up the stairs.

I rushed into the upper room. A woman crouched in the far corner, a blanket pulled over her, shielding what must be her baby. My heart ached at the desperation in her face.

"It's safe,” I said, walking toward them. “Let's get you out of here."

---