In a silent comradery and remembrance for the dead, the unlikely party picked their way through the ashes of the Crag, gathering what supplies they could. Little was left, so little that Brode commented a dark magic must have helped to fuel the spread of the flames. Not even a spare bed roll or set of clothes could be found for Holt. But Brode offered use of his own bedding and wouldn’t hear a word against it.
They climbed the tower slowly. On the fourth level, shards of glass lay strewn in the doorway of the library.
“Our ghost orbs,” Talia said. “All that knowledge, memories of the Order here. Gone.”
The armory had survived better than most rooms, though the contents had been pillaged.
“They’ve taken my armor,” Talia bemoaned. She kicked at a charred helmet, then sucked in a sharp breath from the pain of it, though she didn’t let it show on her face with Holt looking.
“The scourge did this?” Holt asked. He didn’t rate those monsters as thinking creatures.
“Their risen dead – the ghouls – can wield weapons and wear armor,” Talia said. “Even if they don’t make it themselves.”
Holt’s throat went dry again. He was sorry he’d asked.
They did retrieve some weaponry from the debris: a thick steel dagger for each of them and a plain longsword. Talia had no use for the sword, given she still had her own unique rider blade, as did Brode. Holt reached
out a hand expectantly for it, but Brode laughed and kept a firm grip on the scabbard.
Servants were forbidden from bearing a sword. Surely that did not matter now?
“Shouldn’t I have a weapon?” Holt asked.
Brode wrestled with the notion. Holt could see it play out upon his face. Before Holt could say more, the old rider thrust the sheath of a dagger into his hand.
“Carry this for now,” Brode said. “You have some skill with knives already, I dare say.”
Holt strapped it around his waist, unwilling to press the issue for now. Brode took the spare sword with them, suggesting there was some hope of training in his future.
Holt led them to the kitchens and the larder next. This time they managed to find a few candles to see by and scavenged up every provision and utensil they could reasonably carry. The fresher vegetables would be welcome, and the red meat would keep for a while on the road, though they salted it all the same. More important were dried goods: mushrooms, fish, and meat, all sorts of spices, pickled onions and carrots, and hard cheese. Jars of jam and loaves of the darkest bread filled out the rest of the sacks. A good haul all things considered, and it made the immediate days ahead seem marginally less terrible.
Meat for Pyra was the most difficult consideration. Dragons had quite the appetite and Pyra would demand beef, as Talia constantly reminded them. There were several cattle carcasses in the deep storage. Brode and Talia went off in search of further supplies while Holt butchered the meat for the road.
All experienced Cooks knew butchery as well as any trained Butcher. Holt did not consider himself a master of the techniques yet, but he knew enough, and these cuts hardly needed to be neat or clean. That done, he found the sack of meat too heavy to lift and resorted to dragging it back through the larder. The others found him struggling to heave it up the stairs to the kitchens. Without a word, Talia took his burden from him, lifting the bloody sack as though it weighed no more than a feather.
The dragons had waited for them outside although judging by Pyra’s aloofness and Ash’s wandering on the other side of the courtyard, there had been little interaction. Pyra snorted another plume of smoke when it was
announced they would strap much of the supplies to her back. She growled, stamped her claws, and flexed her talons menacingly.
Holt thought Brode would have a word with her, but it was the Princess who threw down the sack of meat and berated her own dragon. Pyra relented after that and agreed she would carry her own food.
When at last they were ready to leave, Brode called them over to the top of the grand staircase.
“The walk through town will feel endless,” he said solemnly. “Keep your heads up, and don’t dwell on what’s around you. Pyra, use your fire and burn any remaining bodies – all of them. The last thing we need is a scourge-risen dragon following us.” He jerked his head to indicate she should start with the bodies of Ysera and Denna. Then he walked on.
“Wait,” Talia called. “Master Brode, should we not say a few words… or something.”
Brode stood for a moment facing the smoking town before turning. “If it will help you.” Without missing a beat, he continued down the stairs.
Talia looked appalled. She also seemed lost for the very words she considered so important.
Feeling awkward and that he should say something, Holt asked, “Did you know her well?”
Talia rolled her eyes. “Well, no. Those of Novice rank and even fresh Ascendants aren’t trained by the Flight Commander herself. Not that you’d know—” She caught herself before saying anything further.
Ash nudged into Holt’s leg and he gave the dragon a scratch on his head.
“She is sad. She does not intend her anger.”
“I know,” Holt said. He thought about walking on with Brode all the same. He hardly had anything to say about the death of the Flight Commander.
Just then, Talia knelt, brushed her hair behind her ears and placed a hand on the Commander’s great breastplate. “I should have been here. I’m… I’m sorry.”
Holt thought this a strange thing to say. “What good would that have done? At least you’re alive.”
Talia gave him a dark look. “I’m never where I should be.”
Holt felt like he’d put his foot in it somehow. This talk of death made him uncomfortable but words from his father surfaced in his mind.
“If you love with your eyes, death is forever. If you love with your heart, there is no such thing as parting.”
Talia sniffed. “Where did you learn that, pot boy?” Her tone was kindly enough.
“My father said that to me after… after my mother died.”
“It’s a beautiful thought.” She gave him a weak smile. A single tear rolled down her cheek as she stood up. “I can’t say I loved Commander Denna but… I did love this place. Thank you—” She struggled for half-a- moment before remembering. “—Holt. I guess you aren’t just a pot boy anymore.”
Ash cooed his agreement, craning his neck to the sky. Holt was about to answer when Brode called from behind, “Move it you two.”
Holt turned away as Pyra began bathing Ysera and Denna in her fiery breath. He stayed several steps behind Talia out of ingrained habit, but he had Ash by his side for company.
As they neared the western gate, Holt cast around, looking for his father. He couldn’t inspect each body, nor did he wish to get too close, but when he saw no sign of his father’s cloak his spirits lifted. It gave him hope to hold onto.
