We had more bodies than boats, so we would have to make multiple trips.
Maz held Davka’s body in his arms as his sisters and I rowed our boat across the river to Arduen’s shore.
It was a short trip, but fatigue already crawled through my bones. Made worse when we began carrying the bodies up the mountain.
Teachers from centuries ago had carved a winding set of stone stairs into the mountain. They were still clear of snow from when the Teachers had harvested the fireseeds before the attack.
As I carried body after body up the stairs to lay them among the dimly glowing fireflowers, I thought about what the Teacher from Keldiket had told me last night.
He’d approached Nikella as she stuffed my stab wound with cloudbird leaves. She’d offered me the last of her hornleaf pastefor the pain, but I told her to save it for Kiera. I was gritting my teeth and trying not to pass out when he spoke.
“T-Teacher Nikella?” He looked younger than my twenty-five years, only the first hint of dark stubble appearing on his small chin.
“Yes?” she grunted without looking up from her work.
“I’m Teacher Silas,” he said, his fists clenched in his torn, long-hooded robes. “I’m... I’m the last Teacher alive here. Other than you now,” he added hastily.
“You were here for the fireseed harvest?” I rasped, sweat pouring down my face.
He nodded. “My mentor, Teacher Vera, brought me here to aid the other Teachers for this holy event. We traveled from the Keldiket Temple in Hibraxos.”
My eyebrows pinched at the mention of Keldiket’s royal city. “That’s a long journey through some hostile territory.”
Silas dipped his head and ran a hand through his short, dark curls. “Yes, the desert can be unforgiving, and the hostile Dag clans of the west even more so, but Teacher Vera, she... she was a legend. She kept us safe.”
“May the gods find her soul,” I murmured the same time as Nikella did. Her eyes flicked to mine for a moment, a wordless emotion in their depths.
She’d been by my side since birth, but one day, I would lose her, too.
“Tell us what happened, Teacher Silas,” Nikella commanded through pinched lips as she started wrapping my leg.
As though he’d been itching to do just that, Silas launched into his story. “We’ve been here several weeks. The Urzost Clan was very welcoming. We each had our own room at the inn. Can you believe it? After months of sleeping in tents and caves, it felt like such a luxury. I shared a room with three others at the Temple, but we had the softest?—”
“The attack, Teacher,” I interrupted, more gruffly than I meant to.
He flushed and shifted on his feet. “Right. Of course. Well, the Teachers here were more than happy to have help with the harvest. They were expecting delegates from all the clans to show up for their bounty over the next few days. And you know how things can get when these clans intermingle. Having Teachers to keep the peace was essential. But few had arrived yet. Which was just fine, as the Urzosts were quite fond of throwing parties every night with so much food and mead as I haven’t seen in years?—”
“Why not?” I interrupted again. But, gods, the man didn’t seem to draw breath when he spoke. “Were they starving you in your Temple?”
Nikella gave me a sharp look, but I was curious. I hadn’t been to Keldiket in over a decade.
Silas’s eyes widened. “There’s been a terrible famine the last two years. The waters refused to rise, keeping the crops from growing. The emperor wishes to keep it a secret and hasn’t let many leave our borders. But Teacher Vera convinced him to let us come here so that we might observe the next few holy days here in this sacred place. That way, maybe the Holy Four would see fit to aid us.”
I’d heard nothing of a famine. Nor had Nikella from the way she frowned at him, her fingers absentmindedly tying the knot on my bandage.
I stored that scrap of information away and returned to the matter at hand.
“The attack, Teacher Silas,” I said, leveling my sternest glare at him. “When did it start? Why was no one prepared?”
The young Teacher’s eyes widened. “Only an hour before you arrived. They must’ve killed the watchmen along the river who usually blow their horns when something is amiss. At least that’swhat Teacher Vera said before... before one of those barrels hit her.”
I grimaced. Renwell had probably scouted the distress horn locations in advance. The village never stood a chance.
“It was awful,” Silas continued in a distant voice, staring at the destroyed square behind me. “There was fire everywhere. People screaming and trampling each other, trying to get out of the way. Then those... thosedemonsinvaded the village.”
“Shadow-Wolves,” I said grimly.
Silas nodded. “Ah, yes, I’ve heard that name. King Weylin’s guard, correct?”
