Bastion of Sun

CHAPTER TEN

The Lost Blade

Robed attendants flitted among Ayva and the others like white doves administering aid. The robed men and women changed slightly bloody bandages, helped those who were too weak to hold cups sit up and drink water, exchanged bedpans and wiped sweat from the brows of the sick. More often than not, the robed helpers simply sat on stools, issuing soft words to the sick, creating a low hum in the otherwise quiet room. Ayva realized the loudest groaning patients were positioned in along the back walls with the most windows, as if they were given a chance at light before they departed this world.

A loud bloody cry sounded, punctuating the silence.

It came from a stick-thin woman with blonde hair and bright green eyes. She released her clutch on her blankets and reached up, toward the light, her fingers curling as if trying to grasp the sun. Her eyes were panicked, her breaths labored, short and quick. "Gods, no," she breathed. "I feel it coming. Please, not yet. I don't want to die. I—" Then her body convulsed and her eyes rolled to the back of her head, and she slumped back into the bed—dead.

Moments later, before Ayva could even register what had just happened, a man cried out, doing the same. This time, he merely clutched his heart and curled inward, sobbing until he was motionless and silent. White-robed men pulled his blankets over his head. A priest holding a worn tome rushed to his side, issuing rattled but practiced words over the man before the next cried out.

Another man, this one looking strong and healthy and built like an ox, with large muscles and hard-bitten features, died all the same.

Then a teenage girl.

Then an old man.

Then a little boy—

"No..." Ayva breathed.

The little boy's eyes were wide, scared. "Mommy, Mommy—" A woman who had been asleep, resting her head on his bed as she sat in a chair at his side, suddenly bolted upright, terror in her eyes. The boy reached out, also trying to grasp an invisible light. Fear grew on his features as he couldn't touch it and his bright blue eyes filled with confusion.

The woman cried for the healers over and over, and a balding older man rushed to her side. Just as he did, the boy's terror peaked, choking as if on blood. But there was no blood. He convulsed one final time and then fell over. A trickle of scarlet ran from his nose, but he remained unmoving. His mother gave a cry that made Ayva's blood turn to ice. Her body convulsed with heart-wrenching sobs. "No... please... Oh gods... Gerish... please, Gerish!" She pressed her face into his small, lifeless body, crying. "My boy, my little sun, please gods—don't do this to me."

Ayva felt sick. She needed air. She rushed to a window at the opposite end of the room, away from the cries, away from the horror and sorrow. Zane accompanied her; Hannah close behind. Then the others came. When she at last could breathe and the cool air of Vaster helped wake her from the nightmare she'd just witnessed, she tried to find words. "What is this madness?" she asked, looking to Lord Nolan, breathing steadily and slowly regaining her composure.

Lord Nolan glanced over his shoulder. The room was noticeably quieter. Ayva knew better, but couldn't help but attribute the newfound silence to how many lives were just extinguished. When she inquired about the sudden hush, Nolan answered. "The 'wave of dying' they call it. It comes and goes. No one knows for certain when or why, but my best healers and I believe it's because the Sunroad weakens in chunks, like a bridge with a hundred supporting beams. When one beam can bear the weight no more, it collapses. When it does, the wave of dying happens. And with it, another part of the Sunroad, and my city goes dim."