Ignis Aurum Probat
Fire Tests Gold
Alexander dreamed of the castle. He was in the kitchens, he thought, and the cook was making something delightful. Roast chicken, maybe, or stuffed lamb? He couldn’t tell. He took a step closer, trying to distinguish by smell.
The nearer he got to the kitchen, though, the more he began to notice that something was wrong. He wasn’t sure what it was, but he knew he had to hurry and get to the kitchen as quickly as possible.
He was practically running by the time he realized. Whatever the cook was making—it was burning! There was no smell of delicious roasting meat or potatoes, just the acrid curling of smoke that signified he had to get out now!
I cannae leave them in the kitchen! I have to get to them!
He burst through the door and was met by roaring flames and a cacophony of screams so loud that he fell to his knees, clutching at his eardrums. As the fire reached him and licked at his sides, welcoming him into its deadly embrace, he knew that it was over, all of it.
I’m gonnae die.
He coughed, covering his face, trying to crawl through the fire and the smoke to reach the survivors, but he was overcome by the flames, and the last thing he knew before he dropped unconscious was that he had failed.
Unconsciousness in the dream meant he awoke with a start in real life, his heart pounding, his breath quick and panicky. It had been such a realistic dream! He’d been able to really hear the screams, feel the flames, taste and smell the smoke in the air—
Wait a minute.
He could still smell the smoke. He could still smell the smoke!
Alexander jumped out of bed, grabbing his trews and pulling them on in a hurry. He rushed out of the door, entirely forgetting everything else of his that had accumulated in the room.
As he thundered downstairs, the smoke got quicker. He could see it, too, first some tendrils and then thick smoke pouring from somewhere ahead of him. The house was on fire!
On the landing, he ran into Nathair, who was wild-eyed and staring around as though he could slice the smoke with his sword. “What’s happening?” Alexander asked urgently.
“I dinnae ken,” Nathair replied. “I smelled the smoke an’ ran out, but I have nae seen anyone else.”
Cicilia. The twins!
“Ye go get Jeanie’s parents an’ Katie out o’ here,” Alexander commanded, pointing down the single remaining stairs that led to the kitchens and the servants’ rooms. “I’m gonnae get the family.”
Nathair nodded, and without another word, the two of them parted, one rushing down, the other up, as fast as their legs could carry them.
Cicilia only woke up when the smoke was already curling into her bedroom, interrupting one of the most peaceful nights of sleep she’d had in a while. Before she’d opened her eyes, she’d curled her nose against the smell and turned on her side. In her half-asleep state, she didn’t recognize the danger until a loud crash from below startled her awake.
Wha—fire. Fire! Annys, Jamie! Alexander!
She bolted out of bed, coughing hard against the acrid smoke as it billowed through her doorway, and rushed out of the room without stopping to think. The twins had adjoining rooms on the other end of the hallway. To Cicilia’s horror, there were already flames licking at the stairs between them.
“Jamie! Annys!” she cried, then had to stop, her hands on her knees, to collect her breath. The whole house was ablaze, the smoke so thick she couldn’t see anything but black and orange and red.
Stay close to the ground, Cil.
That had been Mammy’s advice when the pigsty went alight when Cicilia was trapped inside so many years ago. Did it apply here? Would it keep her safe? Alive?
She dropped hard to the ground, crawling as quickly as she could on her elbows and knees, sucking in as much fresh, untainted air as she could. The heat built and built to oppressive levels, and she thought she might pass out.
But she couldn’t stop, not yet. Not when the twins were trapped in their bedrooms!
She reached Annys’s door and pushed it open. All she knew next was a loud creak, and then a blast of heat and air so powerful it sent her reeling backward. When she managed to focus her dazed eyes once more, it was only in time to see the fire raging through the door in Annys’s room.
It beat me here.
“Annys! Annys!” Cicilia screamed, trying desperately to get through the door, ignoring the blisters painfully forming on her hands. “Ye cannae die, ye hear me? I’m comin’. I’m—”