Healer of Sakkara

Chapter 9 - Destruction

Galen fell to his hands and knees in the street as the ground bucked and rolled beneath him. Stones cracked, fissures split walls, and screams mingled with the rumble of breaking rock. It seemed to go on forever, but he counted only five breaths before the shaking stopped. Then, as the earth grew still, the cries and shouts grew louder, and the orange glow of flames lit the night.

Already, clouds of dust and smoke rose upwards in columns, obscuring the stars. Yells and cries for help, and running footsteps rang out from the streets above and below, and all thoughts of escaping the city fled Galen's mind.

He had to help.

He had to make sure Harrald was all right.

Turning, he took a few unsteady steps and tripped on an uprooted cobblestone, skinning his palms on the rough ground. He hissed in annoyance, clenched his hands into fists, and willed the pain to stop as he pushed himself up again. To his surprise, the pain faded almost at once, and when he opened his hands, his palms were smooth and undamaged, only a thin smear of blood left to show he'd been hurt at all.

A wave of dizziness washed over him as the earth trembled again, though much less violently than before, and he started off again. He'd almost reached the end of the alleyway when a desperate call drew him back.

"Gale! Galen? Where are you? Say something, please!"

It was Behn's voice, coming through the grill in the basement wall.

Galen bit his lip, hesitating. Then Behn called again, just as another small tremor, almost like an echo of the first, shuddered the ground.

The basement wasn't safe. The walls were only packed earth, shored up with stone and heavy beams. He had to tell Behn to get out of there.

Doubling back, he slid to his knees in the damp earth alongside the grate, bending to peer inside. He could see the beam of a lantern swinging back and forth.

"Galen!"

Desperate fright frayed Behn's voice, and Galen grasped the bars of the grill as he leaned down.

"Here!" he called. "I'm outside, Behn. I'm safe."

"Oh, gods!" Behn exhaled sharply and coughed, waving a hand in front of his face. Part of the far wall had collapsed, and the air was thick with dust. "Thank Thrynis! I thought you'd been buried!"

"Behn, get out of there," Galen said, low and urgent. "It's not safe. There could be another tremor, and—"

Even as he spoke, the ground heaved again, as if a shiver had run up the spine of the earth. Galen yelled for Behn to run, but it was too late. With a rumble and crunch, the ground beneath him collapsed as the wall of the basement caved in. Galen scrabbled at shifting earth and stone and rode the wave of debris as it tumbled down into the choking, dust-filled dark.

In the subsequent stillness, he blinked and coughed, rubbing grit from his eyes and spitting it from his teeth, amazed to find himself unhurt. In the gloom, he spotted the dim beam of the lantern lying on its side.

Crawling forward, he picked it up and lifted it, illuminating the piled rubble. There was no sign of Behn.

"Behn!" he called and coughed again. "Behn!"

A wheeze answered him, and he stumbled over the heaps of stone towards the sound.

Behn lay on his back, staring up at the ceiling with wide, unblinking eyes. Galen dropped to his knees, searching his friend's body for signs of injury. He seemed unhurt, except...

Except Galen's knees were wet, and a sweet, coppery scent filled the air.

"Behn?" he whispered, leaning closer. Behn's chest rose and fell with rapid, shallow breaths.