An Affinity For Fire

49. Tarragon

When he heard the first muffled scream, Tarragon's mind immediately filled with images of Clover in danger. He let the book he'd been reading tumble to the floor, leaping from his bed and racing out of his room. Down the corridor, a door opened. A muscular woman stepped out, blood-coated sword in hand. She was dressed fully in gleaming armour, with the exception of her head, blonde hair tightly plaited back.

A Dormisian knight.

Tarragon must not have been the only one to hear the cry for help. A young woman in green, who Tarragon vaguely recognised, stepped out from the room next to that of whoever had just died. She had barely made it through the door before the rebel knight drove her sword through her neck, sending a fountain of blood spilling from her open throat.

When she turned her dark eyes to him, smirking slightly, His legs nearly gave out from under him. Unarmed, he bolted from her and burst into Clover's room.

"Get a weapon," he demanded, ignoring her indignant glare at his intrusion. "It's started."

But before she could move, the knight strode through the door, sword raised. Tarragon took a step in front of Clover.

"Aww," the woman cooed. "So sweet, how eagerly you protect the witch. Because I'm feeling nice, I'll give you one chance to step aside, otherwise I'm killing you both."

Tarragon's insides turned to jelly as she took a step forward, but she didn't make it any further before a long, thin blade burst through her mouth. She dropped forward, sword standing up, lodged in the back of her head. Standing behind her, dishevelled and bleeding through the sleave of his doublet was Prince Malbaryn.

Bryn yanked his spindly sword from the woman's body, eying the bloody tip with distain. "I suppose I don't need to warn you they've started."

Footsteps pounded down the corridor, and Bryn raised the sword towards the open door.

Leo yelped as he ran in, almost ploughing straight into the blade's point.

Clover pulled two swords out from under her bed, handing one to Tarragon. "I didn't realise my room was the murder-meeting-point," she said.

Tarragon turned the sword over in his hand, acclimatising to its weight.

 Leo gaped at the dead body, before turning to Bryn. "You're hurt," he observed, pointing at Bryn's arm.

"Just a small cut," Bryn said. "I didn't die, which makes me considerably luckier than many people will be by the end of tonight. Do we know any other likely targets?"

Since most of Ortusian nobility had refused to come, Tarragon couldn't list many green mages in attendance.

But his heart dropped as he remembered one mage who was present.

"Calio," he choked. He didn't wait for the others as he ran from the room, sprinting towards the network of rooms reserved for Aesasan guests. He didn't even know which room was hers.

Two doors were open. The first, probably Queen Romira's judging by the size, was empty. No guest, no assassin, no body. They must have broken in, found her absent and left.

From the other open door, Tarragon could smell burning flesh.

Clover, Leo and Bryn appeared behind him as he stepped through the open door, finding Calio, hand on fire, standing over the body of a young man whose neck had been melted, bubbling blood seeping into the carpet. When she saw Tarragon, sword still in hand, she raised her flaming fist towards him, blue eyes blazing with unbridled rage.

"Go on," she hissed. "Take another step. See what happens."

Tarragon took two steps backward, lowering his sword with a sigh. "You're alive."

"No thanks to this prat," she spat, gesturing to the body. Her voice was laced with threat, but she must have realised he wasn't there to hurt her, because she shook out the flames in her hand. She tipped her head towards the others standing behind him. "What's with the damn gathering? Presumably the attack has started, and you're telling me all of your priorities are to check on me?"

"Our priority is so stay in a group until we have a plan," Clover said, giving Tarragon a pointed glare. "Which means not running off alone. People are getting killed and injured all over the castle. We need to summon Merith immediately, so that she can save as many of them as she can."

Leo snorted. "How exactly are we supposed to do that? We're missing the most important part of the spell -  one of her pets. And the ruddy owl's dead."

"There are five more," Tarragon argued. He was teetering between irrational optimism and crippling pessimism, and if he had to pick a direction to fall, he preferred the one that didn't make him want to scream in despair. "Clo, you've done the most research. What do we know about them?"

She frowned in concentration. "There's a blue-eyed ocelot called Gabbro," she began, counting off on her fingers. "An orange-eyed hare called Tourmaline, a yellow-eyed wolf called Chalcedony-"

"Wait," Bryn said. "The wolf!" He glanced between everyone expectantly, like he'd just announced some impressive revelation. "The wolf? Guys, the wolf." He through his hands wide, waiting for someone to catch on. "Really, nothing from anyone? Fates, you are the slowest group of people I've ever met. You're looking for a domesticated, yellow-eyed white wolf. Ringing any bells?"

Tarragon felt something snag in his throat as the realisation hit him. "Hold on, you're not suggesting Weyra-"

"Of course I'm suggesting Weyra!"

"That doesn't make sense," Clover said. "Why would Chalcedony follow us around?"

"We can argue about the improbability of that later," Leo said. "For now, let's just assume the Fates were trying to help us... or something pretentious like that. It doesn't matter. The point is, we need to find her."

"Fine," Clover said. "You guys set everything up and I'll try to find her."

"I'll go with you," Bryn suggested, "Since I haven't the faintest clue what you're 'setting up', so I probably can't help."

To Tarragon's relief, Clover didn't refuse the offer of assistance.

"Don't use the main entrance to get out," Leo cautioned. "There'll be assassins there targeting anyone trying to escape. There's another way out, through the royal aviary."

Clover nodded, leaving with Bryn behind her.

"We'll set up in the greater library," Leo called after them.

Tarragon raised an eyebrow at him.

"What? It'll probably be empty now, there's lots of space, a surplus of combustible materials. Also, I'd rather not do it here." He cocked his head in the direction of the smouldering corpse, still lying on the floor.

Tarragon swallowed. "Fair enough. I'll meet you there. The hair, the tongue and the ... the dagger," he glanced nervously at Calio, "Are in my room."

Calio chewed her lip, swallowing whatever comment she wanted to make about her dagger. "What's my position in this fragile, probably doomed plan?" she finally asked, tone tinged with a slight bitterness.

"You don't have to get involved if you don't want to," Tarragon assured her. "But if you do want to help, there's actually something really useful you can do."

"And what is that, exactly?"

Tarragon met her sceptical gaze and forced as much conviction into his voice as he could. "Start a fire. And make it a bloody big one."