These Old Bones

20-1

20

"Get up. Old man."

The voice filled his mind. A whisper from a great distance.

Then, silence.

Until the roaring filled his ears. Screaming from a thousand directions. Groans. The weight of the world upon his back, pressing down, pushing him into the cobbles of the street. He realised the groans, some of them, came from his own, dry mouth and the weight was not the world, after all, but the stones and plaster and timber beams of a wall. The weight lifted, a slight, and he crawled, gripping the gaps in the cobbles, pulling himself from licking flames and rubble.

"Girl." He grunted into the cobbles, blood dripping from a cut upon his head, his hair, the braid unfastened, falling into his eyes.

"I'm not a girl." A man's voice, a boy's, grunting with effort and then a crash as stone and plaster and timber fell back against the stones. "Now, get up!"

Brorzjav stared at his hands, a covering of dust coating his fingers, pushing against the odd shaped stones and the dirt packed between. His legs shook as he drew them beneath his body, forcing himself to stand, swaying in the curling smoke. He stared, blinking at the face before him. He knew that face.

"The gate?" He mumbled, staggering, caught in the arms of the boy wearing armour that once shined like a mirror. "You. You're from the gate."

"Lucky for you I got orders to retreat to the fifth tier." The boy, the soldier, wore a deep slash in his face, an adornment he most like never expected to wear. "Your sword is ruined. Here, this was one of my guards' swords. You'll need it"

Brorzjav, his head wobbling, his eyes shifting focus, stared at the short, double-edged sword thrust into his hand. His eyes moved to his hip and saw Notch, the scabbard shattered and hanging loose. A sharp bend disfigured his faithful companion, but it didn't matter.

"The sword will be fine. In a few minutes." He felt his head clearing as the soldier pulled him away from the building flames. He shrugged the boy's hands away as his mind fell into focus. "The girl! Tiera!"

He turned too fast, his vision blurring for a second, heading back towards the building. He brushed the dust from his hands on his breeches and then rubbed his eyes, holding his other hand to stave off the heat of the flames flickering up into sky, consuming everything they could.

The building, a shop, where he had pushed the two females, appeared empty, the fires burning with abandon everything inside. He couldn't see any bodies, but his eyes caught an open door. He had to believe they had escaped before the shop became a furnace. Tiera would take care of the girl and, if he knew the Pony Rider at all, she would head toward the Southern Gates. As he would.

"Come on! You can't get through that way!" The boy grabbed his arm, pulling him away from the hole left by the lightning strike and the fire. "I have to return to the fifth tier. If you're coming, we need to move now, while we still can."

"How goes the defence?" Brorzjav felt his mind becoming more clear as they set off up into the next street. As they moved, he unfastened the broken scabbard, shaking the remains from Notch and noticing the bend in his sword already straightening. He thrust it into his belt.

"What defence? As far as I can see, everyone has been recalled to the upper tiers. I've sent my contingent on up already. The Gaeradine are just sweeping through the city." The boy saw Brorzjav look at the gash in his cheek and pointed to it. "Got this from some debris from a lightning strike. I haven't seen a raider."

Brorzjav stopped and the boy came to a halt a few feet later, looking at Brorzjav with impatience. Brorzjav could see the city aflame, buildings destroyed by lightning strikes. In the lower tiers, he could see people moving, racing this way and that, but nothing organised. Nothing that said 'military' to him. He turned his head toward the upper tiers and saw nothing to compare.