Page 51 of Fires of the Forsaken
All in all, we lived in that splendid town for over six years. The Golden Days, as I’ve always called them. Where happiness reigned and darkness seemed like a distant memory.
Of course, it was not us who decided to leave Swindon.
We were chased out of the town.
16
Stanky Culture Shock
Asomber cloud hovered over us as we left Lamex.
The people in front of me rode silently, all traces of conversation gone. Even Cheriour looked like a ghost, his face pale as his eyes roamed the landscape. But to be honest, I tried not to look over my shoulder at him too often. Because every time I did, I saw the dark gray smoke billowing into the sky behind him. Smoke that came from the hundreds, perhaps thousands, of plague-infested corpses. And their houses.
Incinerating the bodies made sense. But the whole town seemed excessive. At first. Until Braxton made a doleful remark as we left: “We don’t have enough people to be fillin’ those houses. And I’d rather see it burn to the ground than have Wraiths settle here.”
There weren’t enough people.
Back home, shitty developers built dozens of new buildings every day because we had no shortage of peopleneedinga home. The question was whether they couldaffordone.
Here, hundreds of buildings had been destroyed. Because you couldn’t sell houses when most of your potential buyers were dead.
What a depressing fucking thought.
The soldiers did, thankfully, corral the livestock before we torched the town. Listening to animals being burned alive would’ve been the last straw for me.
We now had horses to spare. Some of them pulled rickety wooden carts filled with sheep, goats, chickens, pigs…Old MacDonald’s entire farm. Excluding cows. They were too big to put in the carts and too slow to follow the horses, so they were left in the fields.Awayfrom the inferno. But Belanna made an exception for one obese bull—seriously, his flubber jiggled as he waddled along—because he was“prime breeding stock.”
All-in-all, it was a slow procession away from the town. A funeral march.
Even when we’d put the village behind us, my hands wouldn't stop shaking.
IfIwas struggling this much, how were the rest of them fairing? What about Cheriour? He’d likely given the orders. And he’d also taken the grim task of walking up and down the streets with a torch. How the heck was he holding himself together?
I leaned back in the saddle, muttering“whoa”to Sacrifice. I still couldn’t be trusted with reins, but she listened to voice commands. She slowed, allowing Cheriour’s horse to catch up.
Cheriour was the picture of tranquility. Like a smooth sheet of ice over a body of water. But I was getting the impression that scary, slithering monsters hid beneath that ice. Monsters that undoubtedly wreaked havoc on his insides.
I stretched a hand out, touching his arm (and nearly tumbling out of the saddle).
He didn’t move. Didn’t look at me.
“I’m—” I started.
“We’ll arrive at Niall by nightfall,” he cut me off. “Its ruler, Quinn, has been unpredictable of late. Please mind your words with him.” He shrugged my hand away and left me alone at the back of the group.
Well…that could’ve gone better, huh?
Mowow.
The distant sound had me whipping around so fast, my neck cracked. My horse stalker’s black body slithered through the trees behind me. But then it paused, poked its nose out of the foliage, and turned toward the village.
The Púca looked at me again. And looked back at the village.
With one last hungry stare in my direction, the animal turned and strolled toward the village with its ears pricked, tail swishing.
The scent of death had been more tantalizing than my rank and sweaty booty.
“Good,” I mumbled. “I hope you burn to the ground with the rest of the town, you creepy sonuvabitch.”
