Song of Blood & Stone (Earthsinger Chronicles #1)(18)

Two shots rang out in the small room, and Tensyn’s body jerked before he fell, crashing into the dresser against the wall. Jack lowered his smoking weapon, his eyes never leaving hers.

“Are you all right?”

She nodded, dropping her arm to her side, then looked over Jack's shoulder in shock.

Tensyn’s fall had knocked the items off the dresser, including the two oil lamps lighting the room. Flames quickly licked up the spilled oil and raced along the wooden legs of the dresser, engulfing Tensyn’s clothing and flesh.

Jasminda stared at the flames as they flew up the walls unreasonably fast.

“Jasminda!” Jack shouted. She blinked, unable to think, her feet locked in place. He wrapped an arm around her and pulled her into the living room.

Wargi coughed and sputtered, crawling out behind them. Jack pulled the door shut and stuffed the quilt from the couch in the crack at the bottom of the doorframe.

“Do you have a fire suppressor?”

His words scrambled in her head. “A what?”

“No, I suppose you wouldn’t, all the way out here. We don’t have much time. I’ll gather some food. Save what you can.” He dashed into the kitchen, leaving her staring at the door, still not believing what lay on the other side.

A coughing fit caused by the acrid smoke filling her lungs shook her from her stupor. Her house was burning. Her home. The only thing she had left.

She raced upstairs and pulled on a dress and her boots. Tossed items blindly into a sack. Some part of her was still in her parents’ bedroom, watching the flames consume the walls. She stared at the bag in her hands, not remembering how it got there, not knowing what was inside but only that the tightness in her chest was not just smoke, it was the mouth of an endless river, a wash of despair sweeping her away.

She found herself in the living room again, standing in front of the cabinets. Had she run down the stairs? Is that why she was struggling to breathe?

No . . .

Everything here was precious. Sooty fingers skimmed each shelf, committing the feel of each object to memory. Her chest contracted. Was that her heart shrinking away to nothing?

Jack appeared next to her, carrying the basket stuffed with what remained of the once-full pantry. “Give that to me,” he said and snatched the sack from her. She stared at her empty hands for a moment, then to Jack, and felt grounded by the firmness of his expression. His uniform was tattered and bloody. She pulled out a set of her brothers’ clothes from the cabinet and tossed them at him. “Put these on. They should fit—the boys were tall for their age.”

Flames reached out from under her parents’ door, the quilt having been eaten away. In mere minutes there would be nothing left of her life.

“Jasminda.”

She turned to find Jack changed and ready to go. He’d even pulled on Papa’s old coat, the one the three children had saved up for over the course of a year in order to replace. Papa had been wearing the new one the last time she saw him.

Tears formed and her throat began to close up. Jack said her name again. “We have to go.”

She nodded mutely and allowed him to take her hand and pull her from the house.

On the front yard, Wargi dragged Pymsyn’s body, laying him next to the motionless form of Unar.

Jasminda dropped to her knees as a loud crash sounded. Part of the ceiling had collapsed. Something broke inside of her. Somewhere close-by, a voice wailed in agony. Jack wrapped his arms around her and pressed her into his chest until she realized the screaming was coming from her.

He whispered something she couldn’t hear above her own cries. Gasping, she worked to pull herself together, clutching at the coat Jack wore that had long since lost her father’s smell. Finally, she was able to breathe steadily. His arms were a cage of safety around her, but she still felt like her chest had cracked open and everything inside was leaking out.

“This is all I have. I have nothing else.”

He held her tighter and rocked her gently, but she found no solace in his arms.




The adrenaline surge fueling Jack was beginning to wane. Each injury pulsed again with renewed strength. He released Jasminda gently, leaving her staring almost catatonically at the house. Wargi hovered over the two remaining soldiers he’d laid out on the ground. Neither man appeared to be breathing. With great effort, Jack knelt and felt for a pulse on each. Scared eyes regarded him from behind round spectacles. Jack shook his head, and the boy’s mouth quivered.

“Head east,” Jack said. “Go home. Find the path you took to get here. Do you remember the red rocks?”

Wargi nodded and stumbled away into the darkness. Jack hoped the boy would be able to find his way back through the Mantle, but he’d done all he could. He turned to Jasminda, but she was gone. A rush of panic swept over him. She was so distraught, at first he feared she may have run back into the burning house, the way husbands to the north in Udland threw themselves on the funeral pyres of their dead wives. He quickly discarded that idea; she was devastated, yes, but far too strong of spirit for that.

He found her in the barn, standing over the goats that slept on the floor, nestled together in groups of threes and fours. The barn was far enough away from the house that he did not think it would catch fire.

He sagged against the doorframe, every ache and pain making itself known. When he would have collapsed indecorously into a heap, a sickening smell assaulted his nostrils.