Haven: Chronicles of Warshard (9 page)

Haven just shook her head and crumpled the page between her hands. “I need to send word,” she mumbled through her
tears.

“Haven,” Blythe whispered at her other side, wrapping an arm around her. “We will do anything you wish, please just tell us you are alright.” She squeezed Haven’s
shoulder.

“I need to send word,” Haven whispered again, trying to
stand.

“Send word to
whom?”

“To Salander, to Calisa, to
Wakefin--”

“What is happening?” Malka hissed. They blocked in the queen on all sides to shield her from prying eyes. Though rumors would surely fly over the scene, their only care was for their
friend.

“
Kadia,
” Haven said. “This letter is from
Kadia.”

Haven stood, holding on to her guards. Drying her tears, she looked Malka in the eye. “Send word to Salander. An attack comes at once.” The three stared at her in astonishment. “Then Calisa. We may need their aid,” she paused. “Let Corrin know as well, but he is not the priority. We need to ready the troops. Kadia means to attack Ithrendel City. I pray we aren’t too
late.”

Malka scurried off. Haven could hear her barking orders as she ran through the
halls.

“The troops, My Lady?” Blythe
asked.

“Yes,” she said. “We will stand with Emeril and his father. She has gone too far this time.” The strangeness of her words seeped back to Haven. She felt them move across her like a bug, crawling inside and making her stomach turn. There was something wrong with those words, something deeper that she didn’t understand. Kadia wanted to add Haven to her collection -- her collection of what? And what test did she speak of? Could Kadia have been watching her all along and no one
knew?

Haven found this hard to believe. She was well guarded and never let anyone in on her plans for the kingdom aside from her personal guards and advisers. It was hard to imagine what the insane queen was speaking
of.

“We will ready your soldiers, Lady Queen,” Blythe
said.

“Ready only a hundred. I will not leave my city unguarded,” Haven added. “We leave at
dawn.”

CHAPTER 9

T
he hooves of one hundred horses rode from Rythern’s capital, Palmyra, the morning Haven set out with her guards at her sides and a small army at her back. She rode everyone long and hard, urging them across rivers, through valleys, and over the border into Salander. Tall pine trees greeted them and soon, their thunder brought the platoon into the open. They had hardly crossed the Salander border when a scout spotted smoke up ahead. Haven increased their pace as much as possible, urging Wren forward with her
heels.

It was nearly evening when the smoke came into full view. Darkness billowed into the cloudy sky. The journey to Ithrendel City typically took several days, with regular rest and housing for the night. At the speed with which Haven pushed them, she more than halved that time, arriving at a nearby village before
dusk.

“Lady Queen, we must rest the horses,” Lareina urged from her right, patting her beautiful white
mare.

“We cannot rest when Ithrendel is up in flames,” Haven snapped, wide eyed and worried. It was difficult to tear her gaze from the billowing smoke in the
distance.

“Look,” Malka said from her left. Haven tore her gaze from the
sky.

Over the ridge on the other side of the village came the Royal Guard of Salander. Haven gasped and nudged Wren forward, riding with her guard to meet them. Only about fifty accompanied their prince and
king.

“Emeril!” she
shouted.

Emeril’s brown hair whipped toward her. He dispersed from the crowd with a soldier by his side. “Haven!” he
called.

Haven stopped before him and dismounted quickly. The young prince did the same and immediately pulled her into an embrace, much to her surprise. It took him a moment to let go, but once he did, sad blue-green eyes met hers. The color was striking against his soot-covered face and hair. “We’re too
late.”

Grimacing, Emeril nodded. “It came so quickly. There wasn’t any time,” he shook his head,
defeated.

Haven knew they couldn’t give up this easily. Looking back at her guards, she motioned to grab their attention. “We will proceed,” she
said.

“What?” Emeril gasped. “The city has already fallen, Haven. There’s no saving
Ithrendel.”

Even as he spoke, Haven could see smoke and flames rising from the city in the distance. They were at such a vantage point that almost the entire city was visible, even if it was still far away into the valley. She understood why Emeril thought his city was lost, and why his guards would pull him from its ruins. They needed to save the only heir to the
throne.

“But there is saving your people,” she said, turning back to the prince. “Continue to Rythern. We will send any of your people we can find in the same
direction.”

“Haven this is madness. The city is on fire. There’s nothing you can
do!”

“We will see,” Haven said, her jaw set firmly. She couldn’t be sure if it was cowardice or good sense that drove him from Ithrendel, but her determination would not be squashed. “I must insist you make haste. I will return to Palmyra
soon.”

Remounting her horse, Haven turned back to join her
soldiers.

Emeril called after her, “Be careful,
Haven!”

Haven waved
back.

Late into the night, Haven and her soldiers arrived at the city. The city was literally on fire, its smoke rising into the dark night sky. As they approached the city, they urged anyone they found toward Rythern. Some listened, while others headed toward the mountains. They hadn’t the time to stop all of them, so Haven directed them towards the outer villages. Most had already evacuated, but some clung to the hope that it would rain, and the fire would be
smothered.

Organizing her soldiers into teams, Haven set them to work. Two larger groups would work their way along the outer villages, helping anyone who might need it to escape the blaze. While these groups worked, another group would head into the country, and yet another would keep watch for Kadia’s soldiers. The last team, which Haven commanded, would head closer to the
city.

“Lady Queen, you really should stay with the outer groups,” Blythe
said.

“I will stay where I am needed, Blythe,” Haven said, leading them over a well-worn bridge and into the large town just outside the main city
walls.

Fire fell from the burning debris, setting the nearby homes ablaze. Haven’s men dispersed throughout the homes, checking each structure for anyone left behind. Only then did Haven realize the sounds of crackling fire inside the city were not just that. Between the crackling flames were the agonizing screams of people left
behind.

Haven gasped at her realization and rode toward the main
city.

Blythe quickly cut her off, stopping her own horse right in front of Haven’s. Wren reared briefly before settling. Haven glared at her guards
second-in-command.

“I will not allow you into that city, Lady Queen,” she said, her brown eyes reflecting the fire around them, as well as the determination in her
heart.

“I can help them
Blythe.”

“At the risk of your own
life.”

“I cannot die!” Haven shouted, frustration
building.

“But you
will
suffer if you go in there. You will burn
alive!”

“Just like they
do!”

“You don’t need to save every life,
Haven!”

“No, but I will save everyone I
can!”

Haven pulled back hard on her reins. Wren reared, kicking his hooves in the air, but Blythe did not budge. Turning her horse away, Haven dismounted. Blythe was clearly not going to move. She would keep her eyes on the queen at all times for fear that she would try something heroic. Sighing, Haven handed over her reins, and trudged into the outer
city.

Searching the wreckage for survivors, Haven and her guards dodged burning objects that fell from the sky. They moved from home to home, pulling out anyone they could find. Some had passed out from smoke inhalation, while others were trapped beneath debris. They had saved nearly a dozen men and women when Haven found herself alone outside yet another house. Gazing at the door, she wondered how far she could get before Blythe would be after her. Anticipation running through her limbs, Haven decided she would find
out.

Bounding forward in a run, Haven approached the inner city, feet slapping on the stone road. It took several moments before she heard shouts behind her, but she was almost there. The gates were wide open, their wood ablaze. Several wooden pillars had fallen by the entrance, but she thought she could probably jump them. She would do anything to save even one of those crying
voices.

Haven was only a block away when a scream erupted from a nearby home. She stopped dead in her tracks, just in time to watch a small burning shape run from the home. Without thinking, Haven dove forward and slapped at the fire. The small shape beneath the cloak collapsed to the ground. Haven went down with it, hissing in pain as she patted out the flames. A moment passed after the orange died out, while Haven just stared at the charred cloak, scared that whoever lay beneath it was dead. A minute passed and the shape
groaned.

Sighing in relief, Haven turned the body over. The small shape was a young boy of maybe twelve. He had brown hair and blazing green eyes. His face was streaked with tears and he shook with fear, but he was
alive.

“Hush, don’t fret. You’ll be fine now,” Haven said, smiling and cradling her hands as they mended. The boy stared at her hands in shock and awe as they healed. A moment later the running of feet stopped behind them and Lareina knelt at Haven’s side, but the queen shook her off and stood. “I’m fine, help the boy,” she said, and Lareina did so, checking him
over.

It appeared the boy only suffered minor burns and bruises. He was dehydrated and coughed like mad, but he was otherwise fine. By the time her diagnosis was finished, Haven’s hands had healed and only a small amount of redness remained. The boy continued to stare at her until she splayed her hands for him. He
gasped.

“See? We’re both
fine.”

The boy continued to stare until another guard arrived to usher him
away.

“Haven,” Blythe hissed. “Please tell me you were not running towards those
gates.”

“I heard a scream,” Haven lied,
shrugging.

“You saved that boy,” Lareina said with a
smile.

“Of course I did. Now we should carry
on.”

They did just that, saving a few more souls before they were near the gate again. Every time Haven neared the massive doors, the itch to run past those gates nearly overtook her. Unfortunately, it wouldn’t be so easy to get away again under Blythe’s now suspicious and ever-vigilant
gaze.

“
Help!
”

Haven’s head whipped in the direction of the city
gates.

“Help!” a ragged voice called again. Haven froze. “
Please
!” the man cried in agony. “Help
me!”

“Do not go toward that voice, Haven,” Blythe warned,
uselessly.

Haven stared at the open gates, flames crackling over the wood. Occasionally, the hinges creaked under the force of the wind and she feared they would fall. All such thoughts fled her mind when she heard that voice cry out again. His voice was strained, garbled most likely by
smoke.

“Haven,” Blythe’s voice rose an octave. She was helping an elderly gentleman out of his home, so her hands were full. Lareina was still inside and Malka was helping Blythe. Under the man’s weight, there was no way they could stop her. “Haven,” she said
again.

“Help! Please!” the voice dragged
out.

Haven ran. The rows of homes, the shouts of her friends, rough stone beneath her, all disappeared as she flew across the ground and leaped through the
fire.

Landing on solid ground, Haven covered her mouth with her shirt. Thick smoke assaulted her eyes and nostrils. She could barely see, let alone breathe. Keeping low to the ground, Haven called out. “Where are you?” she waited for an answer, eyes darting around the desolate cobblestone
street.

“Blue skies, thank you! I’m
here!”

Haven followed the voice to the left of the gates. Just inside the city walls were two stations for soldiers, both completely ablaze. Drawing up as much courage as she could muster, Haven approached. Heat bathed her face. “Stay clear of the door!” she shouted. Moving closer, Haven lifted her foot and kicked the door. It creaked, but didn’t collapse the way she hoped. Trying to remember her lessons on hand-to-hand combat, Haven reset her balance to put all of her weight under the kick. “I’m coming in!” she shouted, then kicked again, once, twice, three
times.

The third time was the charm -- the door fell free. Moving carefully over the door, whose flames licked at her boots, Haven went inside. The main room was large and had many beams and pieces of roof scattered across it. From the back room, came a cry of pain. “Hurry!” the voice
groaned.

Dodging between debris and fire, Haven moved through the open door to find a small room with a staircase leading upward. She assumed it went to the outpost on the wall, but she was much too distracted to ponder further. At the bottom of the stairs, a man was caught with one leg through a step and the rest of his body bent forward at an awkward angle. Stuck beneath a burning beam from the ceiling, he could hardly look up at her with his back
pinned.

The building moaned over
them.

“You came,” he gasped. His face was against the floor, just within the thin layer of clear air. His leg had to be broken at the knee, or else such a position wouldn’t be possible. Fire danced across the beam, biting at his back, but not catching his armor on fire. He was a soldier, probably the city guard from the night before. “It came so
suddenly.”

Haven nodded and moved to the beam. Gripping it with her hands, she tried to raise
it.

“What are you doing?” he barked. “You’ll burn your hands off before you’ve saved
me!”

“No, I won’t,” she huffed, putting all of her strength into moving the beam. It fell back some, but didn’t clear his entire body. “What came suddenly? The
fire?”

“You’re mad!” he gasped, trying to struggle free now that some of the weight had been removed. He bit down on his lip as the pain grew too much. He’d have a hard time getting that leg out unless she could get the beam off him. “Yes, the fire,” he said. “It should have been impossible, but when I came for the shift change, the gates were
open.”

“They were
open?”

“All the way. The only way that could happen was if someone left them open from the
inside.”

“A traitor?” she
asked.

“Maybe,” he
coughed.

“Wait here,” Haven called, dashing into the next
room.

“No!” he shouted behind her, “Don’t leave
me!”

Searching throughout the room, Haven found a sturdy enough plank of wood that had yet to catch fire. Her wounded hands had already healed by the time she returned to him. “I’m not going to leave you,” she whispered, propping the plank under the beam before she
heaved.

“Blue skies, I thought I would die
here.”

Pushing as hard as she could, Haven tried to dislodge the beam. If this had happened a few months ago, this man would have been a goner. She had been weak and useless before, but now she was strong. Using every ounce of her weight and strength, she pushed on the plank. After several shoves, the beam fell from his back, and she collapsed onto the floor in front of him. Pulling his arm over her shoulders, she stood, bringing him with her. Putting all his weight on his good leg, the man winced in pain before coughing as he inhaled smoke. Haven coughed along with him, but kept control of the situation, removing the soldier and herself from the small
building.