The Black Chalice

Thirteen

The thatched roofs of the ring of homes had caved in beneath the heat. The straw had curled, withering, while the edges charred, and finally the entire structure collapsed, the flames leaping higher.

Alymere's horse shied away from the fire and smoke, snorting and kicking as it pranced sideways, refusing to go any closer to the burning buildings.

As he watched in horror, the fire quickly consumed the wattle walls, blistering the whitewash daubed on the facades.

The heat coming off the huts was staggering. It battered him. He felt his mouth dry and the inside of his throat shrivel as the heat intensified and it became progressively more difficult to breathe.

The horses refused to go any nearer to the flames.

Beside him, the knight swung down out of the saddle and rushed toward the closest building. He didn't look back, didn't hesitate. The door hung on one rope hinge, as the other had burned through. He pushed it out of his way and plunged into the fire. Alymere was slower to react, not through fear but because of what he saw lying in the snow a few feet beyond the door of the second hut: a body, though it was barely recognisable as such. It lay curled up, one arm outstretched, clawing at the snow. The entire body was charred, the clothes fused to its back and legs where they had melted into the skin. Licks of steam rose off blistered flesh where the snow cooled it, and blood had begun to congeal. Slain.

But that wasn't the worst of it.

Not even remotely.

Alymere swung down from his horse and walked toward the ruined body, sick to the stomach.

As he neared, it became more and more difficult to deny the truth of his own eyes. The body in the snow was that of a child. Alymere caught himself saying the words of a prayer as he knelt beside the body. It was impossible to tell whether it had been a girl or a boy, the damage wrought by the blaze was so complete.

His eyes stung, and not just from the smoke.

He wiped away the tears with his left hand.

The smell, the sickly sweet stench of burning meat, stuck in his throat.

Alymere felt his gorge rising. He turned away from the ruined body, gagging, and retched violently. He dry heaved again and again, doubling up as the spasms wracked his body. There was nothing in his stomach to bring up but bile.

Gasping, he wiped his lips with the back of his hand.

What he had seen, he would never forget. That small body, broken and burned in the snow, would forever shape his fate, and time and time again affect decisions he made from that moment until the day he died.

It was only then that he became aware of the screams: there were people trapped inside one of the buildings, begging for help.

This time he didn't hesitate.

Alymere pushed himself to his feet and ran toward the burning building.

Every step took him deeper into the heat.

He pumped his arms and legs furiously, driving himself on even as the heat strove to batter him back. He felt it burning the skin on his face and hands as he came within touching distance of the fire.

And still he didn't stop.

He threw himself into the flames.