“Go.” Below her, Stef was dead. Behind her, a trio of sylph held back the fire. Everywhere lay bodies and sylph eggs.
I dug my free hand into Sam’s coat and yanked him toward the door. Smoke billowed after us as we emerged into the hot light of noon. People gathered, and a medical vehicle came toward the mill.
“Where do we go?” I asked Sam, but he was looking back at the smoke-filled doorway. He coughed and wiped his face, smearing tears and ash over his cheeks. He’d just lost his best friend. He wouldn’t be able to help.
Avoid the people. They’d report us to Deborl.
That was a good first step.
Most of the people were westward, toward the main avenue, so I yanked Sam east, around the building. He ran with me, gasping and coughing. My breath was short and scratchy, and every time I looked over my shoulder, all I could see was the smoke pouring upward, a gray column against the clear sky and the intense light of the temple.
There were people, some pointing, some chasing. Some wore red, like the guards. I ran faster, though my backpack dragged at me and Sam seemed blind with tears and grief.
We ducked behind buildings, moving every which way. I tried to be smart about which paths we took, I wanted to be smart, but Stef’s final sacrifice, Sarit’s promise that she’d follow—
No.
Afternoon wore on as we ran along the edge of the industrial quarter, hiding in and behind anything available. Finally I found myself across East Avenue and in the northeastern residential quarter. A white house loomed above us. Evergreens huddled close to it. Dead vines and weeds littered the garden. The grass was long and brown. No one had been through here in a year, at least.
A darksoul home.
I glanced southward, toward the industrial quarter. The smoke had thinned, drifting across the sky like a memory. I couldn’t hear sounds of pursuit. The world around me seemed silent and dead. Even Sam just stared blankly, whispering, “It should have been me. She saved me.”
There was nothing I could do for his grief. Instead, I took his hand and guided him into the darksoul house before anyone came looking for us.
28
EQUINOX
THE DARKSOUL HOUSE was filthy, heavy with dust and neglect and age. I didn’t know who’d lived here before, but only memories occupied this space now.
My lungs still felt choked with smoke as I helped Sam onto a musty sofa. He collapsed over his knees, face buried in his arms. His sobs were quiet, broken, so I pushed down my grief and moved through the house to make sure we were alone. Maybe there was something useful.
The house was laid out a lot like Sam’s house, with a large portion of the first floor dedicated to art. Canvases covered the walls, while statues and wood carvings filled the main floor. Blankets protected the hardwood, though now the wool was tattered and gray.
In the kitchen, I found an old block of cheese. I cut off the mold and put the rest on a plate to take to Sam. There was bread on the counter, but it looked more like a compost pile than food.
I added a slab of dried venison to the plate and poured two cups of water. It wasn’t much of a meal, but it was better than nothing.
“Start eating.” I left the food by Sam and headed upstairs, where I found clean clothes inside cedar chests, and a cabinet full of painkillers and burn ointments. My arm and fingers throbbed where I’d been shot, but I’d been burned worse.
I took a few painkillers and brought some down to Sam, who was slowly cutting the cheese into slices.
“Here.” I handed him a few pills and finished slicing.
We ate without conversation. The food tasted old, sort of dusty, but it was better than starving, and it gave me the energy to check the windows for signs of anyone after us.
“This was Vic’s house,” Sam said after a few minutes. “He built most of the statues around the market field and carved the relief on top of the Councilhouse. Lots of other things, too, but those were the projects everyone talked about.”
“Is he the one who taught you carving?” Outside, the trees were white and motionless. “Like at your cottage and the shelves in your house?” Sam’s graveyard had been filled with beautiful statues of animals and people playing music. Even the benches had been art. And inside, the wall of bookshelves had creatures of Range etched into the edges. Herons, bears, elk, wolves, shrikes.
“Yeah.” Sam finished his water and stood. “He carved some of them, and taught me how to do it myself. I was never as good as him, and I had to be careful of my hands, but we became friends. I wanted you to learn from him, too.”
I moved away from the window and took in Sam’s wrecked appearance. Smoke stains clung to his shirt and trousers, and his hair hung in black mats. We both needed to shower, and there were enough of Vic’s old clothes upstairs we could surely find something to fit.
“Come on.” I motioned toward the stairway. “We’ve got a few hours.”
While he showered, I checked outside again. Nothing. No sylph. No Sarit.