55

Ash

Kaylin grips my hand painfully as we scramble up the stairs. I don’t want him to loosen the hold, though, not one little bit.

With the field impossible to cross, we’re working our way down the street, hiding in buildings and behind rubble while flaming boulders scorch rain from the sky and Aturnians search for survivors. Their phantoms and savants attack without warning, capturing and questioning anyone they find. The gruesome truth is they are looking for callers. If they find one, they take them prisoner. Any other kind of phantom they kill on the spot.

Plenty of our savants fight back. Kaylin and I certainly fight back, but Aku is shattered, outnumbered, and falling. Most who survived the first round of catapults are students, not fully trained or ready for battle. They’ve never had to fight for their lives before.

With no quick way to Marcus and the others, Kaylin and I retreat to our room in the main temple for supplies. He goes in first, and when he gives the all clear, I slip in behind him.

“Food, boots, your other satchel?” He edges to the window, peeks around the curtain, and checks below. “We’ll try to cross the field from here.”

I run to the bed and pull out my satchel stowed underneath. With the library completely destroyed, the only text on the next Great Dying and Amassia’s second sun might now be in my possession. The realization is like a punch to the gut, and my hands shake. Or maybe that’s fear from the last dozen brushes with death.

I kick off my fluffy sheepskin shoes and put on a pair of wool socks and my winter boots, lacing them tight. Kaylin grabs his pack and tosses in a compass, the waterskin, and a sack of gold. I have no idea where that came from. It would take a lot of hand-carved lures to fill that bag, but I don’t ask. I wrap up bread and dried fruit left from breakfast and pack it with another waterskin and a skein of nuts, the knives that are on the table, two pens, a blank scroll, and a bottle of ink.

“Wear this,” Kaylin says as he tosses me a knit cap.

I plunk it on my head, tucking my hair back behind my ears, and crisscross the satchels over my back.

Kaylin is at the door, eyeing both ways. I turn around and take a final look at the room. It held so much promise until today. Mystery and fear, too. My eyes go to the window, the tapping sound’s haunt, the table where our discoveries were made and where Kaylin and I shared so many meals. My bed… “Let’s go.” I turn away quickly and we slip out, footfalls silent.

After climbing down to the second-floor landing, I glimpse the foyer, gape for a second, and pull back, flattening myself against the wall. There is no way to erase what I’ve just seen as the image brands the backs of my eyes—three blue-robe savants cornered by a reptile ouster walking on hind legs. It twirled its clawed fingers, gathering air, and blasted it outward. The robes were torn away, followed quickly by skin, muscle, and guts until the bloody bones of the three students collapsed in a heap.

Nausea rises up the back of my throat.

“We can’t go that way,” Kaylin says needlessly.

The enemy savants swarm through the lower levels, taking savants prisoner, questioning them, asking if they raise callers. I hear their interrogations, and it’s a wonder I can make any sense of the madness surrounding me. Why do they want callers? “I don’t understand—”

Kaylin puts his finger to his lips and motions me back up the stairs.

When we are on the third floor, I ask, “What now?” As far as I know, the only other exit leads to the roof.

Sure enough, he points at the ceiling.

My knees go weak and I shake my head. “F’qadin demons, no.”

He nods a yes and leads the way. We climb a narrow ladder at the end of the hall to a hatch. Kaylin opens it a crack and looks out before he pushes it wide, snow from a few nights ago falling around our feet. “Wait here.”

This time, maybe for the first time in my life, I do what I’m told without question. The sounds of screams and clashing weapons ring in the distance and the wind slaps my face. It has lost its fresh sea scent and is laden with smoke, debris, and the taste of burnt metal.

When Kaylin returns, he sheathes his sword and scans me up and down. “Are you all right?”

I palm the tears from my eyes, wondering if I’ll ever be all right again. “I’m fine.” I climb out onto the roof and see a trail of red spatters in his prints. “Are you?”

“Aye, lass.” He smiles. “I’m well, but the guards on the roof will need more than a light healing.”

I draw in a breath. Death comes so easy to him. Peace be their paths, I say silently.

“Peace be their paths,” he says aloud and leads the way toward the eastern corner of the rooftop.

When we reach the edge, I gaze down three stories, hand going to my throat. “Kaylin, I don’t know how to break this to you.”

“What’s that, lass?”

“I can’t fly.”

His eyes crinkle with his smile, and the wind blows his curly hair back from his face. For a moment, the battle cries and urgency disappear. I take a step closer. Kaylin bends toward me and touches my cheek. I close my eyes as his lips brush across my mouth. “I’ll let no harm come to you.”

I peer over the edge. “How?”

“There are steps laid into the stone.”

I squint. “For ants?”

“They’re chinks, really.”

My stomach drops. “Chinks?” I give him an incredulous look. “I’m going down the wall holding onto chinks?”

“I’ll guide you.”

“If I fall…”

“You won’t. Trust me.” He smiles again. “Have a little faith.”