Page 6 of A Heart of Crimson Flames
“Save the songs for our travels. We should pack up and keep moving,” Navin said, nodding to Timon to go fetch the oxen.
Timon gave a grunt and pushed up from the log where he perched. He was a short, stout man of few words, but Gods could he sing. At night he’d regale us with sea shanties sung so deep that it made my chest vibrate. It was amazing watching all of them together, performing music and improvising harmonies just for the fun of it. It certainly made traveling far less boring... although not entirely. For Navin and I also had to share the cramped wagon with all of them, which made finding any alone time nearly impossible. I prayed that the temple of knowledge had lots and lots of bedrooms... with excellent soundproofing.
Or not. I was starting to not care if they heard—and felt—us set the wagon rocking.
You just have to wait a little longer...
But not too much longer.
Navin gave a whistle and Haestas sailed across the sky, off to go hunt for some lunch of her own. I wondered if he could whistle for her to bring back a kill for us heartier than rabbit and squirrel. If she could be trained to bring us back a goat or deer, what would stop her from one day bringing us back the bodies of Silver Wolves...
“She knows not to go too far north, doesn’t she?” Asha asked, nervously nibbling her bottom lip. She was the youngest of the musicians who’d come to Navin’s call—a mousy brunette, timid and shy, but according to Navin an incredibly powerful Songkeeper, too.
I’ll believe it when I see it.
“I can’ttalkto her,” Navin said for what felt like the hundredth time. “But she knows. I don’t know how she knows,” he added quickly before someone could ask. “But she knows.”
We were all still trying to pick apart this bond he and his dragon shared, figure out all the working mechanisms to his magic. Navin only had one quick peek at the vase engraved with the eternal songs in Valta before conjuring the beast, unable to study the intricacies. With a little more time, he might’ve been able to fully decode communication with her like Rasil had with his samsavat.
“Hopefully the library of knowledge will contain hidden songs,” Svenja added, giving voice to my own thoughts. “It’s time to see what else your dragon can do.”
“Aye,” Timon added.
Ignoring their comments, Navin tipped his head to the fire. “Put that out—let’s go.”
I liked the new aura of command in his voice since Navin had become our de facto leader of this splinter group of theSongkeepers. We needed this leadership, as it now seemed the musicians of Galen den’ Mora were on the other side of a war from their musical brethren—the ones who still backed Rasil.
Rasil—the Head Guardian of the Songkeepers, traitor, friend to the Onyx Wolves...andNavin’s husband. That last part still grated me just as much as the rest, maybe more. I couldn’t wait to help annul their nuptials by slicing Rasil’s throat open and letting him bleed dry. It was the least he deserved for what he’d done to us. The world would be safer for it, too. Who knew if Rasil would use the eternal songs to conjure more monsters into the world. Gods, there might be no world left to save if the continent became overrun with beasts and dark magic again.
As if Nero wasn’t enough of a monster to deal with.
Navin slung his long arm around my shoulders and guided me back to the wagon as I frowned up at the familiar trees. The heat of the desert had morphed to the cool lushness of the pine forests of Damrienn. I’d never been this far south in my homeland. No Wolf had. We’d always stayed close to the capital and our pack.
Guilt crept through me at how good it felt to be back in Damrienn. Something in me eased at the smell of the trees and wet earth. It was like an old friend welcoming me back home.
The humans were sparse down here, too, nothing but rolling forests as far as the eye could see... except—
I sniffed the air again. Just the faintest whiff on the wind.
Navin paused. “What is it?”
My eyes narrowed as I stared through the endless trees. “A scent in the distance.” I focused on it, more certain now of the acrid decay that lingered in the air.
“What is it?”
My hand drifted toward my knives. Fire, ashes, blood, bile, rot.
“Death.”
BILE ROSE IN MY THROAT AT THE OLFACTORY OVERLOAD IN MYnostrils, the repelling stench not only of death but also of rot,the kind that had been festering for weeks. Scavengers feasted across the rubble. Vultures, foxes, rats, and creatures I’d never even known all fed. Most of all the insects. Some corpses were so covered in ants, no flesh could be seen underneath the carpet of writhing black. Others were like nurseries for maggots and the wriggling horror they became. The decay choked my throat. I’d seen gore, I’d known death, but this was a kind of devastation that would haunt me for the rest of my days.
There were no survivors, and for that I thanked the Moon Goddess.
Rockford had been the town’s name, the southernmost dot on our map of Damrienn. Below it had been only forests and a few hunting cabins, too small to be noted. How many dots would be left on the map if Nero had his way?One, I thought. Highwick and then nothing but forest and scorched rubble, pockmarked ashes of the humans that no longer existed in his kingdom.Someone must avenge them. As I surveyed the eyeless sockets of decaying corpses, I vowed that Rockford wouldn’t be forgotten.
Navin and I took the lead, scouring the village reduced to ashes. The others I tried to encourage to stay in the wagon and let it travel through the outskirts of town. They were musicians for Moon’s sake; they didn’t need to see this kind of carnage. I’d known my fair share of death and even I found the site haunting.
But I had once again underestimated the Songkeepers. They were made of stronger stuff than they appeared. Their nostrils flared and they covered their mouths with cloths, but still they searched. Kian turned over beams and doorways, Svenja flipped over bodies that were clearly gone, and even Asha searched. Still, the farther we moved through the town, the more we abandoned any hope.
