The Everburning City

Act 1, Part 3, Chapter 7

Roderick

Roderick found it both a relief, and deeply shameful, to be so close to so many dangerous people.

Corporal Redgrave, now a sergeant, had a sword arm that had cut his way through a small mob of Gloamtaken. His new corporal, the shadow Mackaroy O'Fallow, was judged with both wariness and respect by both Valen, and the captain of the Cadavalan Rangers. And of the four people in his squad, one was the apprentice of a Crafter chosen to fight a Golem.

Even Mildred, beside him, had training and experience with he couldn't match. She wore the salamander on her shoulder with enviable comfort, her gait was light and easy despite the long hours she had been awake, and the handgrip of her sword had faded from regular use.

It occurred to Roderick, that he might be the least prepared person to ever wear a Ranger's scarf.

"Do you know how long it is to Barleybarrel?" Roderick asked quietly.

Mildred turned to him and smiled. "We have some time. Trip's likely to take a couple of hours, plus however long it takes to get us aboard and on the move."

"That's not a lot of time," Roderick mused, and he hung his head a little.

"Didn't think you still needed to find your spine, kid," Mackaroy said from just in front. The shadow turned back, and the hard scowl on his face hit Roderick like a blow.

"I, l'm not asking because I don't want to go," Roderick managed to reply. "I was just hoping for a bit more time."

"We've had about fifty years," Vincent said. The Crafter apprentice was quiet, solemn, but both Mildred and Mackaroy turned and waited while the young man spoke. "It's been almost a half-century since the Fourth Invasion."

"And this is all we could manage? Eight dead crafter teams and the army running home to hide behind the walls we have left?" Mildred asked. "Makes you wonder how the burning hell we survived the Fourth."

"We got one of the Golems," Vincent said.

Roderick tripped and nearly fell. The shock of Vincent's revelation left him weak in the knees and dry in the throat, but it was accompanied by a surging happiness that seemed to melt the weariness of the long, hard hours.

And judging by the shock on Mildred's face, his reaction wasn't unique. "How?" she whispered.

Roderick remembered the wall shaking as the Golem marched towards it. He remembered the Crafters conjuring fire that could have levelled buildings flail impotently at it. He remembered the roar -- so much like a scream — of stone shattering as those massive fists hammered at it. The idea of stopping it felt as impossible as flying.

"Crafter Garland Kohl. He taught my master. I heard it from the only survivor of his strike team. He fought it alone, after the other Crafters were killed. He fought it, brought it down. It collapsed on him when it fell." Vincent's words were quiet, and his eyes were wet. "I half-believe that it falling on Crafter Kohl was intentional."

"You think he dropped it on himself? Deliberately?" Roderick asked.

"You got that sense too, kid?" Mackaroy asked. All three of them turned to the scarred shadow, who looked to be reassessing his impressions of the apprentice Crafter. "I remember Crafter Kohl fairly well. And I wouldn't put it past him."

"But why? If he had won," Roderick asked.

"We burn some of ourselves every time we Craft," Vincent said, and something about what he said left Roderick feeling cold. "How much of Garland could have been left?"