Chloe knew that if another tremor came, whatever was keeping her sister alive, holding her safe from the weight above, would shift . . . and Sophia would die.
Time passed, stretching into endless labored breaths as Chloe wheezed and gasped. She choked on the dust. Her heart hammered in her chest. She prayed to the gods that the last of the quake was past.
She didn’t know how long she fought against time and the prospect of another tremor before she saw a patch of pale skin and then a slender leg. With renewed vigor she lifted still more tiles and carried away the heavy stones, fighting the burning fatigue in her back and shoulders.
Chloe then saw what it was that had saved her sister’s life at the same time as she saw Sophia’s agonized face. A black wooden beam from the ceiling lay across the girl’s chest. Two stones from the wall, bigger than those Chloe had encountered so far, leaned diagonally against the beam, creating a space that had saved Sophia from the devastation when the ceiling fell. There was a stone right next to her head. If it had fallen two inches further she would have been killed.
‘Sophia! Look at me.’
Like Chloe, Sophia had dark hair, a wide mouth, and an upturned nose. In temperament Sophia was more carefree and she had dimples when she smiled. But now her face was filled with pain and, above all, terror.
‘I can’t . . . breathe.’
The beam that pinned Sophia down was as thick as Chloe’s waist and long enough to span the entire width of the chamber. Chloe could try to lift it by one end, but if she did, it would add pressure to her sister’s chest, and there was a good chance she would dislodge the two leaning stones from the wall, which were definitely too large for her to move.
Sophia whimpered as Chloe looked on helplessly, wondering what she should do. Her heart sank as she realized she could never free her sister alone.
‘Sophia, listen to me. I need help. I can’t do this on my own. I have to go but I will return.’
Sophia nodded weakly.
Still fearing that another tremor would come at any moment, Chloe left the chamber and clambered over the debris in the hallway to run back to the terrace. From the direction of nearby houses she could hear screams, cries for help, and the rough voices of men coordinating their efforts. The city’s largest structures appeared mostly intact, with the temples lofty and indomitable as ever, but a plaintive wail told the story of at least one casualty. Revealed in the starlight, she spied several other houses with collapsed roofs.
Seeing movement close by, Chloe watched three scurrying figures descending the steps leading from the villa. She recognized the elderly household servants and was relieved all three were unharmed, but when she called and waved, try as she might, she couldn’t get their attention.
She was going to have to descend the steps herself and find some strong men to come back to the villa to help. Her father was the first consul, and eventually she would find some soldiers who knew her and would come to her aid.
But the journey would take time, and there was no guarantee she would be able to find the help she needed. She didn’t want to leave Sophia for so long. Even without another tremor, the rubble could shift. Chloe also didn’t know the extent of her sister’s injuries. Sophia needed help urgently.
Chloe closed her eyes and muttered a swift prayer to Edra, the protector of children. The gods were angry with Phalesia, that much was evident from the shaking of the world, but surely the goddess would spare an innocent?
She opened her eyes as she heard an improbable sound: a snapping and gusting, like wind in a sail. Though the sea breeze came from ahead, Chloe felt a buffeting wind on her back. She realized it was the movement of gigantic wings.
Her eyes widened as the faint shadow cast by her body changed: something huge was flying above and behind her.
Chloe whirled.
2
A strange mist cleared, revealing a man standing on the terrace a dozen paces away, where before the paved space had been empty. He wore trousers and a short tunic of soft deerskin over a frame that was tall and whipcord lean, with skin so pale it was nearly translucent. A narrow face displayed thinly arched eyebrows, a sharp chin, and a crescent-shaped scar on his left cheek. His eyes appeared dark in the low light, but Chloe knew they were brown flecked with gold, and that looking into their depths made her feel like a young child beside something ancient. Like all of his kind, he had silver hair, worn in his case to his shoulders.
‘Zachary,’ Chloe whispered.
The eldran must have left his home soon after the first thunder to have arrived so quickly.
‘Chloe,’ Zachary said with gravity. ‘I came to see if your father needs me.’
‘Please . . . Sophia is trapped. You must help.’
‘Show me.’