Page 60 of An Archer's Reckoning

Tiny arms clung to her mother.

The same scarlet ice obscured an opening in her fragile neck.

“No. This can’t be real. Please, Spirits, let this be another dream or test,” I pleaded as I cupped the girl’s cheek.

“Declan, come. You need to see this.”Órla’s voice was hollow in a way I had never heard before. I spoke a silent word of blessing to the woman and child, then rose and staggered numbly toward Órla’s call.

As I passed through the center of town, more bodies appeared as lumps in the snow. I spotted dozens of arrows rising above, their dull fletching a last monument to the poor soul buried beneath—the same fletching I had seen lodged in the tree.

I paused to uncover a few, finding Rangers and villagers. They’d been burned to unrecognizable cinders or lay covered in brittle blood that had once poured from gaping wounds. Lifeless eyes and voiceless cries imprinted themselves on my mind.

I stood on the main road, frozen by the surrounding devastation.

Rubble replaced the buildings that had once teemed with life.

Shops of the butcher, clothier, baker, and others—shops I knew well,peopleI knew well—lay wrecked and dead.

Charred skeletons of horses guarded remnants of the stable, while a lone anvil marked the mournful grave of the town’s smith.

My neighbors, my friends.

Gone.

The once-vibrant inn, the heart of the town, had been leveled. It wasn’t even a shell of a building anymore, as the roof and walls had simply vanished. The stench of burned wood and flesh had been largely muted by the feet-thick snow, but death’s aroma assaulted my senses as I stepped inside.

I climbed over mounds of rubble to find the marble bar that lined the back of the common room still standing. I brushed snow away, revealing the smooth surface of the countertop. There were odd pockets in the stone, as if someone had scooped them out with a large spoon. I traced a finger into the divots, as understanding dawned. The stone hadmelted, creating craters where none existed before.

How much heat and rage were required to liquify stone?

“Declan. Come here. Now.”

I lurched from the inn. My mind reeled, and my stomach churned. Nothing made sense. Nothing felt real.

Tears of anger and pain clouded my vision.

I stumbled into the snow.

I looked down to find another frozen Ranger with arrows protruding from his body.

It was Cormac.

Cormac Silivan.

The best of my trainees. The rising star. The one who would make a better Ranger than I ever could.

His face held such youth, such promise.

I rose to my knees and retched.

A moment passed before I found my footing and once again staggered toward my former home.

I could scarcely recognize the headquarters until I stood a few paces from its entrance. The giant front door still rested in its mighty frame, but it no longer guarded the hall built for a thousand souls.

Now it guarded a grave.

An immense mound of snow towered above. It shrouded tons of wood and ash and flesh.

How many men and women lay interned in that mound?

---