Page 56 of The Souls Harvest
When I look down, fearing the floor will split apart and swallow me, a gust of hot air lashes my cheek. I grunt, ready to fight an invisible danger, to sprint towards a safe spot—but my legs refuse to move.
“Galeeeen!” I cry. My arms go rigid at my sides as my fingers curl into fists. But I receive no answer other than the constant rumbling within the tower’s body, like war drums.
Something flickers to my left, behind one of the narrow windows dotting the wall. I glimpse inside at the spiral stairs, through the iron patterns of leaves and flowers protecting the beautiful, tinted glass. Not too far, the double door that opens onto the majestic ballroom, is enveloped in coals of—
“Fire…” I mutter. Tall dancing flames lick the Blind Wise’s hard skin as if savouring it before commencing the feast.
Hypnotised, I realise my fingers are latched onto the iron leaves only when their sharp edges cut through my skin. I swear in pain and jump back when a flame whips out of the ballroom, as if aiming for me.
I duck and crouch, seconds before the glass explodes, scattering shards all over. Hissing above me, the fire commands me to stay down as it tries to find new stones to destroy, pushed by the wind towards the bottom of the tower.
Safe or not, crawling back from where I came from is the only route I have left if I don’t want to face the raging wall of fire growing a few levels below me. Ignoring the pieces of hot glass scratching against my wrists and hands, I draw myself forward using my elbows, keeping my head down.
I move away from the window as much as the narrow space allows, towards those spots on the floor worn out by centuries of people walking on it and where the rain has created shallow puddles of water. The sudden heat caused by the explosion has almost dried my clothes completely, so I splash my face and hair to buy myself enough time to move away from this nightmare.
“Keep moving…” I order myself to distract my mind from the slender columns of smoke spiralling up through the gaps between stones.
The Wise’s old bones crack and complain. Its body shivers as stronger flames eat and erode it from the inside. This isnotthe work of someone ruthless enough to play dangerous games in the building.
What if the strangers in the courtyard…? I splash more dirty water on my face; I’m about to climb back to the top of the burning old castle—whoever caused this nightmare is not my priority.
As far as I can see, the flames haven’t yet reached the top floors and the stairs in front of me are clear of smoke. The top of the tower, where I left Galen, still rests like a placid giant among the clouds. Running to him will be easy, but the inevitable descent scares me.
When the heat becomes bearable, and I’m sure I can stand up without being scorched, I push up onto my hands and knees, ignoring the scratches and pain in my palms. The wall on my right, facing the solitary square below, still retains some of its natural coolness when I run my hand over it, searching for support.
“What the—” My voice is raw after inhaling smoke and dirt.
A hand, gloved in worn brown leather and with a grip too firm for me to break free, loops around my wrist and yanks me up.
“Going somewhere, girl?” A voice I don’t recognise scratches my ear.
I wriggle hopelessly. “Let me go.”
A black, shiny boot with a spiked golden spur taps impatiently on the floor as my eyes, red and burning, take in the sight of dark green trousers puffed up at the owner’s thigh level.
I may not know this man, but I recognise his outfit too well.
My eyes linger on his uniform, but when I jerk my head up to look at his face - and possibly headbutt him under the chin - he swirls me around, pressing my back against his chest and blockingmy arms with only one hand.
Even if my feet barely touch the floor, I try to use the momentum to kick back and get away, but the stranger is taller and stronger than I am and easily forces me down on my knees, into a choke-hold.
“Ah, ah, not so fast. We’ll have time for the pleasantries later. But now I need you to stay calm and quiet.”
I cough, my shoulders screaming in pain as the stranger tightens the grip around my wrists.
“Who the hell are you? What have you done to Galen?” I bite my tongue too late.
His malicious chuckle brings tears to my eyes. “Is that your little friend? Don’t worry, my people are taking care of him as we speak,” he spits, cold and collected, as if the thought that the Wise may collapse at any point didn’t even cross his mind.
I try to look at him over my shoulder. “Is it you I saw earlier in the courtyard… How did you get in? How did you gethere?” I sputter.
“I said quiet!” he roars, releasing my throat from his hold to lift my arms behind my back with his free hand and pull me up.
The pain blinds me. My muscles and joints strain to the point of snapping like twigs. I would scream loud enough to make myself heard from miles, but the stranger has knocked all the air out of my lungs.
My knees buckle as the man lowers my arms a little, his grip still strong on me. When he pulls me towards his chest, I retch at thesmell of cigars and musk reeking from his clothes.
I hear him grunting in a language I don’t understand before something cold touches my skin, and a pair of manacles snap shut around my wrists.
