She heard screams, but these differed from the panicked shouts outside. It was the screams of death.
No. Not there. Not that place.
Blood.
Fire.
Steel clashing against steel.
It was so potent she swore she could taste the very metal in the air.
The unnatural colour of red mud was so thick that she couldn’t see the outline of her boots.
She ran her hands over her concealed weapons and took as large a breath as she could. Mags was speaking, responding to something Han had said, but Eleanor couldn’t hear what she was saying. Her blood was pounding louder and louder in her ears.
An older patient woman’s voice whispered in her ear.
What do you feel?Wood. The wood was polished and smooth.
What do you hear?Voices.
“…you know what I mean?”
What do you see?Haesel sniffling and smiling as Han smiled and nodded at whatever conversation she was having with Mags, the shop owner.
Eleanor took a deep breath and realised that Mags had directed the question at her. She nodded, clueless about the woman’s words, but Mags’s smile suggested she had responded appropriately.
Eleanor still needed to get away from here as soon as possible. She swallowed. “Is there a back way out of here?”
“Oh love, you can’t go back out there.”
Han’s knuckles turned white as she gripped Haesel. “No, Eleanor’s right, we should be getting home. My…my sister’s alone and ill. She can’t have us gone for the night.”
“The back way’s best, Mags,” Harald grunted from his spot, peering through the shutters.
Eleanor almost joined him, curious as to why they shouldn’t be going out the front, but she shamefully admitted that not knowing might be best for her right now.
“Well, if you’re sure. It’s this way,” Mags said as she slipped through a gap between a standing candelabra and a pile of travel trunks, her blonde hair disappearing from sight.
Then Eleanor realised the type of shop she’d barged into. It was a second-hand-odds shop, bursting with all manner of items. Glass shelves filled the wall behind the long wooden serving counter. There were different sized cabinets, tables, padded stools, armchairs, and desks, which all held random items. The objects were so numerous; it made the dull ache at the back of her head return. Her eyes couldn’t rest on one item long enough before another item caught her eye.
No wonder Harald bumped into her. There was hardly any room to move except for a narrow path through the shop, revealing a sliver of wood flooring.
“Are you coming or staying?” Mags’ voice called to them from somewhere behind the pile of travelling trunks, their gold scrolling lettering mostly etched off.
Eleanor went first while Han followed, clutching Haesel, whose wide eyes were looking at everything she could.
“I’d keep your doors locked,” Eleanor advised.
“Oh, don’t you worry, love. This isn’t the first time there’s been some overreaction on market day. Doors are all bolted, and you saw the shutters. We’ll have a nice quiet evening to ourselves and be in bed early,” Mags said.
Mags led them down the hallway that was as heavily packed as the shop front. Heavy footsteps followed them as Harald followed behind. Eleanor didn’t blame him wanting to keep Mags safe from strangers. Whoever they were to each other he clearly cared for her.
“Where does this come out?” Eleanor asked, already trying to plot their route away from here.
“Go right and follow the drangway to the courtyard and there’s a narrow drangway in the corner. It’ll let you out a few streets away.”
“Drangway?” Han asked.
