The Deathsinger: Book 1

Ch. 16: The Aftermath

The screams became wails, and the clash of steel and stomp of boots replaced the music and tinkling of glass as soldiers rushed to the town square. Glancing back, I saw sparks and flickers as someone tried to ignite fires, but the black swallowed them as quickly as they appeared.

My first thought was that I'd somehow consumed the fire. Stumbling back, I pressed a hand to the center of my chest, searching for evidence of the heat inside of me. There was nothing but night cooled skin under my palm. Convinced I wasn't at fault, I spun around to resume climbing.

"Where are they?" I grunted, running my hand over the wall because I could not see the slits.

Fingers shot forward into a hole, and I kept my hand there as I searched for a toehold. It would be slow going this way, but I didn't dare attempt leaving the village any other way. Whatever madness had laid claim to the others had not reached me here in the alley. But when I tried to pull myself up, searing pain ripped through the arm I'd landed on, and I nearly fell backward again.

"No," I cried, hitting the stone with a fist. "Astreia! Can you hear me?"

No response. She either couldn't hear me through the commotion or had dropped to the other side. The space between the back of the buildings and the wall around the village wasn't wide enough for a child to fit through, much less me. Not to mention, I couldn't be sure there weren't other obstacles in the path that would force me to turn back or drop me in the middle of trouble.

Which meant I had to go back to the square. Into the place where people were moaning and praying for deliverance. Were the soldiers striking them down, or was the darkness itself devouring the people the way it had the light?

"Gods, help me," I said, wishing for Astreia's starlight magic as I crept away from the wall.

The closer I came to the town square, the darker things became. There was no gradual adjusting of my eyesight, no outlines of figures moving around me. If I raised my eyes, the moon and stars shone like bright beacons in the heavens, but their light did not penetrate beyond the city walls.

A hiss of a match to my left was followed by a blossom of orange fire, illuminating the pallid, fear-filled face of a young Goblin. His eyes widened when he saw me, but as he reached out for help, a creature came up behind him. In the flickering match light, I saw a mouth filled with broken teeth. The corners curled up in an evil grin and claws snatched the boy backward, extinguishing the light. The sickening crunch of bones followed, and I fled.

This was not at all what I imagined when Tievel told the story of the Light Blight. Something warm and wet splattered against my cheek as another scream was silenced. Motionless forms littered the pathway to the exit, more than once sending me sprawling across the cobblestones or onto another body. In some places, the ground was soft and slippery beneath my shoes.

Trembling, I leaned against what I assumed was a window from the cold, smooth surface. Silence stole over the village. People were either dead or dying or learning to stay silent. It was a struggle to control my ragged breathing as every bump or rustle sent my heart into a tailspin.

Something—someone—fell not far in front of me. A clattering sound followed the dull splat of their body, and whatever they'd been holding rolled across the road and stopped at my feet. Hoping it was a weapon, even if it hadn't served them well, I squatted low and scooped it up.

It wasn't quite sturdy or long enough to be a spear, and the tip was slightly rounded. A quick sniff filled my nostrils with a sulfurous odor. A fire striker!

I only needed light long enough to get my bearings, and I wouldn't make the mistake of staying still like the others. Counting to three, I ran the match head along the ground. Brilliant, glorious light appeared, pushing away the black and revealing the town gates only a few yards away.