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. Arrin spit on the cobblestones. A reckoning has come to your gates, Olenn, andthough it is not wrought by my hand, its lesson will be no less harsh. As if on cue, an ear-piercing screech drew their attention.All eyes turned upward asa fiery ball of shimmering red energy arced through the sky.Arrin assessed its range, itsburning tracer easy to track.He shook his head.There was no satisfaction in hisrighteousness.He turned back to Olenn who stood wide-eyed as he watched the magical firedescend. Do not worry, my prince, it will land near the Ninth.Only peasants and themen of the watch will die with the first blow, the fires contained far from yourthrone.for now. The prince glared, but said nothing as the ball of fire struck its mark, near to whereArrin predicted.The ground rumbled beneath their feet, flames leaping into the sky.The horizon was illuminated in an orange glow, showing the walls still standing.Arrin195 Tim Marquitzwas sadly grateful for the distance between them and the Ninth.From where he stood,he could not hear the screams of the wounded and dying.He knew it was but a temporary reprieve.Soon their voices would be everywhere,death the only comfort left to them.196 Tim MarquitzChapter Twenty-FourEllora and the gathered orphans watched as a great ball of fire streaked towardLathah.All around her, people sobbed and wailed.Mothers called their children to heelas they too saw the flaming missile s approach.It took but an instant to determinewhere it would come down; the Ninth.Rooted in place, Ellora stared with wide eyes as the fire struck.It exploded betweenthe outer wall and the Eighth, near the main gates.Its impact knocked her legs out frombeneath her.She fell, but barely noticed, scrabbling back to her feet once the groundsettled.Those around her did the same.Panic followed as heavy-booted soldiersstreamed past, racing toward the gates.Her ears rang and dust rose up around her.The scent of fire wafted to her nose, theshouts of men filling the air with fury and fear.Children loosed their cries as terrorsettled in.The mournful wails of the dying and bereaved added their voices a momentlater, the dirge of war sung loud upon the backs of signal horns and drums.She could see the flickering shadows of the flames on the walls and realization drewher up cold.She turned to no one, to everyone, and shouted. To the Eighth.Run to theEighth. She grabbed at the tearful orphans about her and shoved them toward theinner gates. Run, damn you.If the watch closes the level we ll be left here to burn. Stirred by her words, the orphans shook off their lethargy and darted off.Her ownfear a spur at her flank, she too ran.Their ragtag group sprinted through the level,gaining in numbers as their frightful passage infected those who stood about frozen,with direction.The shriek of another incoming missile stole the speed from their steps.Drawn totrack its progress, for fear of blindly stumbling under it, Ellora came to halt and set hereyes to the sky once more.Nearly blinded by its brilliance, its screech deafening, sheknew it would land close; too close.It was coming down atop them.She could feel the197 Tim Marquitzwind of its passage, the air sucked from her lungs, its heat drying the tears she hadn tknown she d shed.Her heart thunderous, she looked for the rest of the orphans but they ran on withoutheed.She shouted but could not be heard above the whining keen of the fireball.Theybarreled on, too far ahead for her to reach in time.Her stomach lurched as she realizedwhat she must do.She changed direction and ran for the outer wall with long-legged strides.Her voicecried out in futile warning, but she felt it only right to try.As the fire roared at her back,she darted for the cover of a nearby alley.Seeing a mother stood rigid in her path, thewoman staring fearful at the sky as he infant child bawled and clung to her breast,Ellora bulled by, pulling the woman and child along with her.Just as the fireball struck, Ellora wrapped her arms about the pair and dove for thepiled trash that littered the dark alley.They landed on their sides with a huff, Ellorarolling to shield the baby from the impact.The world went silent as a wave of heatlapped at their backs.Detritus was flung about, frenzied lashes on the wind thatfollowed.She ducked her head and clutched tight to the child as she was pelted withstones, and trash, and shards of wood, the thin material of her tunic no protectionagainst their blows.She felt each, the crack of the whip at her back.When the trash ceased its rain, Ellora got to her feet, helping the woman up.Thebaby was bright-eyed as it loosed a petulant cry, its reddened face shining with silverand encrusted with phlegm.Grateful the child was unharmed, Ellora ushered thewoman from the alley and back onto the street.The alley would be no shelter fromwhat was to come.She could hear the sizzle of burning wood as they turned the corner, the homes justten yards from where they stood but moments ago, were engulfed in fire
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