This Red Sky

Chapter Four

It had been more than two days since Syralth destroyed Blackhost, but the ruins of the mud houses still smoked in the bright sunlight. Sonia watched it curl through the hot air into the sky, against the blinding light of the sun.

Blackhost was barely recognizable. The stables had completely collapsed. The walls of the houses crumbled into the road. The ground was covered in scorch marks. In the heat, the smell of burnt and rotting flesh clung to the back of Sonia's throat, making her gag.

"I'm sorry," she heard Falscha say, as if at a distance. The seer sounded sincere. Sonia could not bring herself to look around at her.

"I need—I need to see if—if Elna got out," Sonia muttered.

The two were standing at the path at the beginning of the village, where the trees had been burned and were blackened with soot. Sonia took one tentative step forwards, her stomach turning over. In the muck pile beside what was once the stables, a clawed footprint was visible, bigger than a wagon wheel. She stopped, closing her eyes.

The screams, crashes and crackling of flames rang in her ears. The village spun. Her stomach flipped again.

"Sonia—you don't have to do this," Falscha was suddenly beside her, speaking fast. Sonia's heart jolted as the seer grabbed her hand. "We can turn back. There are trails that can take us back to the Hartroad without passing through Blackhost."
"I have to," Sonia insisted, more firmly now, pulling her hand out of Falscha's. As soon as it was gone, she wanted it back. "Let's go."

She opened her eyes, taking three hesitant steps into the village, and then moved more quickly, balling her hands into fists. Three wilted flowers tumbled over the road in the breeze

Sonia tripped, looked, and then staggered away with a short gasp. From under a crumbled wall, a brown hand, curled with the rigor of death, grasped at the air.

Her eyes flickered around. A tuft of dark hair, matted with blood, was visible from a doorway. Across the street, a severed leg, the top of the thigh ragged and crusted with black, dried blood. Sonia immediately looked back to the ground.

"Is that the priestess' house?" Falscha's voice seemed to echo. Sonia realized they were standing in the center of the village. She felt the seer's hand on her back. "Do you want to get some things? It looks like it's still standing."

Sonia nodded. She grabbed without looking, and in a moment found Falscha's hand again, holding it with a vicelike grip, and looked up at the largest house.

"Let's go."

Sonia strode up to the broken door, peering in. The chimney had come through the ceiling, crushing the table and knocking down the wall into Elna's room. The ladder into Sonia's loft lay across the floor. There was no sign of the priestess.

Sonia glanced to the side. Falscha's green eyes travelled over the room, taking in everything, almost as if she was afraid to miss something. But then the seer met her eye, and the moment was over.

"D-do you want to see my room?" a short, dry laugh escaped Sonia's throat. "I never used to bring anyone over. It's kind of strange that, now..."

"I'd like that," Falscha smiled.

It was as though the horror weighing on Sonia melted slightly. She nodded, and then bent to pick up the ladder. They replaced it on the edge of the trap door together. Sonia led the way up.

The ceiling was low and slanted, and Sonia had to stoop. Besides the smoke that stained the walls, it was exactly as it had always been—the straw mattress on the floor, a distaff with a half-finished ball of wool leaning against the wall, a stack of books in the corner next to a rough wooden chest—which was lying on its side, the contents spilling out.