Bloodleaf (Bloodleaf #1)(94)

“We’ve got to get down there!” Kellan said as sparks flew past our faces and landed by our feet. My soldiers and I scrambled over the roof’s edge to the ladder and onto the ground just as the thatching began to smolder. The alley was narrow but provided a thin window to the forested mountains of Achlev’s eastern segment. The mountains were shimmering with heat as the fire advanced across them in delicate, curling patterns, like red-gold glitter trimming black net lace. I marveled at how swiftly it had begun.

“Cover your face!” Kellan demanded. “Don’t breathe the smoke!”

We combed the streets, sounding the alarm and searching for stragglers. Those who couldn’t make it to High or Forest Gates we brought with us as we headed to the docks even as great arcs of lightning were striking at increasingly short intervals. I found myself counting the seconds, knowing that my chances of saving Zan and the spaces between each strike were dwindling at the same exponential rate.

We were a hundred feet from the pier when lightning struck the mast of a moored battleship, igniting the black powder of its cannons, and the entire thing went up like a great ball of fire, showering us with burning ash and dust. We rushed the final distance only to find that the pier was gone and the churning water was polluted with debris: shattered planks and scraps of canvas and bits of tattered clothing. The last large piece of the ship’s hull was still on fire on top of the water, scattering orange light across the red waves. There were bodies in the water, too—?people who’d been on the pier, waiting to board and get themselves to safety and never had the chance.

I gripped Kellan’s sleeve. He said, “These remaining boats have taken too much damage. They won’t get to the gate before they sink.”

“There’s a private pier not far from here,” I said. “The Corvalis pier. There were plenty of boats there.”

“Some of these people are still alive!” one of my soldiers shouted. “Look!”

Kellan was a good swimmer; he and his men dove into the water to drag some of those farther out back to safety, while I and the other refugees scuttled around the edge, pulling out those who could swim on their own. Person after sodden person, we lugged and yanked, slipping on slick timbers and straining every muscle. For some of them, it was too late. The waterfront was choked with surprised, despondent spirits watching their bodies sink into the depths.

“We have to go,” Kellan said, hauling up one of the last survivors and climbing out. “The storm is getting worse. If we wait any longer, we won’t be getting out.”

“The boats I told you about are that way.” I pointed. “Get everyone there as fast as you can.”

“You’re staying?” He asked. “You’re still going to the tower?”

“I’m going for Zan,” I said. I would not leave the city again without him.

I expected Kellan to object, to plead for me to listen to reason and head for safety while I still could. He didn’t. Instead, he turned and began barking orders. “Move out! We’re heading west, to the ships at the Corvalis pier!” He moved to the head of the group, giving me one last nod from over his shoulder before leading them out of sight.

I ran alongside the waterfront road toward the castle. Above the rooftops, the Corvalis house was bowing beneath the assault of the wind as weblike fractures spread across the great, ostentatious windows. I could hear the snap and pop of the glass even over the roar of the storm. There was no chance Kellan would be able to get all those people onto a ship and out of port before it gave way.

I careened to the left, dragging out my knife as I sprinted for a better view, leaping over chunks of stone and brick as they tumbled from caving buildings. From atop the remains of a demolished sanctorium, I made a clumsy cut just as the first glass splinters of the Corvalis manor were giving way.

“Sile!” I cried, flinging magic out in bolts as the windows began to burst. Be still.

Thousands of knifelike glass shards froze where they were, scintillating as they hung in the air, reflecting fragments of lightning and fire.

I could feel every sliver straining against me as I held them in arrest, groaning with the exertion.

Please, I silently begged. Hurry!

And then I saw it: the mast of a schooner, pulling away from the pier.

The glass began to quaver in the air, thousands and thousands of glittering pieces juddering against my hold. My ears were ringing, my hands shaking from the strain, but I hung on until the ship was clear of the waterfront and halfway to King’s Gate.

Tears pricking my eyes, I watched it diminish. “Empyrea keep you,” I whispered.

Then I let go.





?36




The tower was the center of it all.

To get to it, I pushed through mighty wind, over bucking earth and surging tide. I was lashed by rain mixed with glass, scraped by the tumbling rocks of the falling terraces, and scratched to shreds by thorns of the plants grown rampant and ravenous. Lightning-strike fires were scavenging the roof the castle, and burning ash was flung into the black sky, as if the stars themselves had turned to fire. Once on top of the bloodleaf field, I could make out several places where the leaves had been crushed by footsteps, though most of the brackish sap had already been washed away in the rain and red waves crashing on the rocks.

Inside the tower, however, all was eerily quiet.