She stared at it and it stared at her, chittering in a friendly sound before slinking away up the stream bank.
Phae turned and saw the Kishion nearby, leaning against a cedar.
“You are quiet,” she said.
He folded his arms and gazed back at her. “What will you do?”
She crouched by the stream and ran her fingers through the chilly water. After rising, she approached him. “What do you think I should do?”
“What does my opinion matter?”
She glanced down. She was still frightened of him, but no longer feared he would stab her ruthlessly. “It matters to me. Strangely.” She looked up at him, cocking her head. “I heard something you said last night. That you wouldn’t let them force me to do this.” She swallowed. “Thank you.”
He shrugged as if it were of no importance. “Would you shove a man in front of a runaway cart to stop it from crushing five people? Or would you jump in front of the cart yourself? Either way, a person dies and five are saved. In one case it is murder and in the other the sacrifice is willing. There is a difference.”
“Or you let the cart kill the five,” Phae said. “I suppose I see your point.”
The Kishion stared hard at her. “It is a sacrifice, to be sure. The obligation you face must be a great burden.”
“Sympathy, Kishion?” she said, her mouth twisting into a smile. “From you?”
He looked at her calmly. “You have a choice in this, Phae. If you say the word, I will take you back to Stonehollow. You can hide in those mountains for a long time. It is outside the Arch-Rike’s reach for now.”
She frowned, her face pinching. “Now you are tempting me with freedom. That is not fair.”
“You have a choice. Which is more than I have right now.”
She picked a fleck of wood from his sleeve. “How would I live with myself, though? I am young and so have never experienced the ravages of the Plague before. I know my blood can save a few families from perishing. But if I could stop thousands of families from being destroyed? Could I be so…selfish? How would I feel watching so many die and wondering if I could have prevented it?”
“You’ve made up your mind then.” It was spoken as a fact.
She gazed down at her boots and nodded. Her throat was too tight to speak.
He put his hand on her shoulder. “Then I will go with you. I have a feeling it is not the first time I’ve been there.”
“Maybe you will remember again. When we get there.”
He shook his head. “No. Not unless we find the tree where my memories are buried. Maybe I do not want them back.”
She looked up at him, still feeling that visceral fear knowing he was capable of destroying her so quickly. “If you help me end the Plague, Kishion. It would go a long way in your redemption.”
He nodded in silence, then cocked his head. “Danger.”
Explosions screamed from the sky and then struck the cabin.
The ground rumbled with the impact. The Kishion grabbed her tunic and pulled her behind him and the tree. More whistling sounds came, followed by eruptions of flame and a spoiled egg smell. The woods began to catch fire and trees shattered in the showering hail of blazing pitch. Phae glanced around the tree and saw her father running toward them, the prince and the woodsman at his heels. A rock of burning pitch landed in front of them, exploding and splattering the burning black substance everywhere. Part of it struck the tree they sheltered behind and Phae felt it shudder and catch fire.
A howl of pain sounded and Phae could not tell which of the men it came from. The Kishion took her elbow and yanked her away from the tree as another whistling sound came from above and struck it directly, causing another plume of greenish fire and sending shards of wood and broken tree limbs every direction. The Kishion dragged her up as she stumbled and plunged into the stream.
The sky was raining fire.
Phae’s boots sloshed in the water, her heart galloping in fear at the awesome force unleashed against them. It was as if ten thousand burning arrows had been launched at once and descended in a cloud. Tyrus was pulling the old man, whose arm was on fire with the burning pitch. Prince Aransetis grabbed Evritt’s other arm and helped haul him toward them in the stream. The old man’s face was knitted with pain and agony and he cried out. Tyrus removed the cylinder from his robes and held it out for them all to reach.
Another whistle sounded from above, coming straight at them. Phae took the Kishion’s arm and closed her eyes as the world lurched and began to spin.