Sieged

Chapter Twenty-Two

Like the times before, the streets are deranged and all looking like raving battlefields but with fear instead of animalistic rage. Flesh scatters and flees rather than clashing in that age old brutality. 

People scream. They cry. They pray to the gods.  They shake in hysterics. They caress their loved ones. Something I can never do again. 

And I want to help them, the elderly, the ones with children, to get to their bunkers and it hurts not to do so. 

I see lawmen, more of the king's guards heading back to the palace. They're too busy to see me in the sea of mayhem so there's no need to stick to the shadows. Even so, I keep my eyes peeled as I limp with speed, my gaze only lifting to see more wooden dragons crossing the southern wall and flaming above the city, watching many until they strike with ferocity. 

Again, I can feel their searing heat and spy the crazed suicide riders crowing in ecstasy, reminding me of my cackling tormentor. 

I'm sure he's following me and it would be so easy for the demon to rid this world of me without being noticed, but for some reason I don't look over my shoulders. I don't try to spy him. 

Maybe I want him to sneak up behind me. Maybe I want him to attack me again. At least I'd have a chance to finally finish him off, ending my nightmare and to get revenge, to fulfill the promise that I made to many. 

All of a sudden, a wooden dragon screeches above my head, its roaring flames burning white, before it smashes into a roof. Shingles crash around me, flickers of embering ash raining down with them. 

It's then that more cinders invade my senses. It encircles me. It swirls. It gales. It meanders. It crawls. 

It's as if King Jabora has unleashed the entire underworld on us, the fiery pit, the hellwind. But I can feel his fury is not done. Tonight feels different. But it doesn't deter me from my goal of seeking refuge. 

Down an engulfed street, the debris from a flying monster scattered around my feet, the walls of fire on either side make my face burn, sweat and raw to the touch. Vigils rush by, grit spilling from their buckets. I recognize some of them, one once being a servant of Lorma and Seamil. 

I wonder how the commander and the lordess are doing. 

I turn towards the southern wall again but I can't see through the grey speckled and flashing clouds. 

I'm sure Seamil and his soldiers are giving the enemy their all. And for a brief moment, through all the noise, I'm positive I hear a thundering twang from a javelin. 

I hope it takes out many. 

On and on I continue, the fires in the city increasing in number and size with entire neighborhoods reducing to rubble right before my eyes. Buildings yaw and buckle, sending more filth into the sky. And I'm hoping to see my men, just to see a glimmer of familiarity, but I don't. 

My destination takes me through more carnage and I begin to see bodies pile up, the torched remains of residents that weren't quick enough to escape the wooden dragons yet able to writhe free from their engulfed homes. Several dozen of them I see, all sprawled on the cobblestones, the odour of their cooked flesh mingling with the air's acrid stench. 

It's around a corner, and not far now from my elixirman's residence – and which I hope can still give me refuge – when the sky erupts with blaring whistles and screeches. The terrifying noise gets louder, making me stop, until it feels like my head is being stabbed with a thousand needles. 

What the fuck is that, I say to myself, before seeing flashing streaks rain down through the murk as if the stars were falling. I then soon realize what they are, for ear-splitting explosions begin to make the ground beneath violently quake and hastening more buildings to collapse.