“Well, that was…strange,” Sage said, casting an uncertain look at Merletta.
Merletta just groaned, far too tired to grapple with such developments. “When Ileana wants to join our team, you know the world is really upside down.”
“Well,” Sage said, searching her face with her usual kind concern, “I doubt it will get any worse in the next few hours. So you can afford to sleep.”
“Sleep,” Merletta repeated, her eyes already drifting closed at the blissful thought, although she was still swimming. She felt steadying arms grab her, and didn’t even try to fight as they bore her through the water.
She could let go and let someone else carry her. She had no idea what the morning would bring, or whether she would survive the week. But tonight, she was with friends.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Heath’s back throbbed as Reka streaked through the air, but the pain was much more manageable now the wound had been treated and bandaged. And the aches from his fall from the cliff into the water were entirely gone. Remarkable.
There was no leisure to ponder this reprieve. Based on Heath’s description, Reka wheeled north once the capital came into view, heading for an enormous grain house several leagues outside the city.
Heath knew well before they reached it that his instinct of impending disaster had been sound. The grain house was impossible to miss given the column of smoke rising from it. The smell assailed them as they began to descend, Heath’s heart in his throat. He could see the orange of the flames licking at the structure, and an ominous groaning suggested that the grain house wouldn’t last long.
“Do you want me to alight?” Reka’s rumbling voice reached Heath from above. “Or do you wish to change course given the grain house appears to be on fire?”
“Set me down!” Heath shouted above the roar of the flames. “I need to make sure no one’s in there!”
“That seems foolhardy,” Reka commented conversationally, but he angled downward as requested.
Heath stumbled forward as soon as his feet touched the grass. He had no idea if people usually worked inside this grain house during the day, or whether it was full, and only guarded from the outside. As he sprinted toward a door set in the center of the wooden wall, his breath caught in horror at the two figures slumped on the ground outside it.
These weren’t the guards who would usually protect a grain house. They wore a familiar livery in purple and silver—they were the king’s own guards. A quick examination showed that they were alive, but unconscious. Heath wondered uneasily whether they were in danger from the smoke, but he didn’t even consider trying to haul them out of the way. If the king’s guards were here, the king must be as well. And Heath had a horrible feeling he knew exactly where King Matlock was.
He tugged at the door, but it wouldn’t budge. On closer inspection, he saw brackets alongside it like a barn door, designed for a wooden beam which wouldn’t prevent a human entering, but would stop animals from escaping. Heath saw with horror that this door wasn’t secured with a normal wooden beam, but with an enormous iron rod across the brackets. He tried to pull it up, but it was much too heavy for him. Perhaps with another person it would be possible. Certainly with three. But on his own, Heath had no hope.
If only Percival was there, he thought fleetingly. The thought sent a jolt of fresh fear through him. The unexpected discovery of the fire had temporarily driven his initial purpose from his mind. Percival had been heading this way, in search of the king. Surely he wasn’t trapped in there as well!
“Hello?!” Heath shouted, his lungs burning from the smoke. “Hello? Is anyone in there?”
He heard a muffled shouting, but couldn’t make anything out clearly. Forcing himself to focus, he drew his magic out of him and cast his extra sight over the store house. He caught a flicker of an image—the king crouched on a dusty floor, coughing desperately. But where was Percival? At the thought, his sight showed him his brother’s face. In his panic, he couldn’t channel his farsight with enough finesse to see Percival’s surroundings. But the golden afternoon light on his face told Heath that wherever he was, he wasn’t trapped in the grain house. He looked like he was sleeping peacefully, which made no sense whatsoever.
Heath dismissed the thought. There would be time enough to look for Percival when the king was safely out of the fire. He gave the iron bar another fruitless tug before turning to his companion.
“Reka!” he cried desperately. “Can you help me lift this?”
The dragon was sitting on his haunches not far away, studying the blaze in a detached kind of way.
“I can, of course,” he informed Heath. “For what purpose?”
“I think the king is trapped in there!” Heath shouted, barely able to contain his impatience. “Please, Reka, it’s too heavy for me to lift alone! I need your help.”
Reka sighed, smoke curling from his nostrils to join that already choking the air. “Very well,” he said. “Although I would be more inclined to help if it was some other individual. I do not relish becoming involved in human politics.”
He leaned forward, placing his vast head underneath the iron bar and nudging it upward. With a scraping groan, it cleared the brackets, falling heavily to the ground. Heath only just leaped out of the way in time.
“Thank you!” he called, racing forward to throw the door wide.
Smoke poured out of it, and the shouting became more distinct.
“Your Majesty?” Heath yelled, stepping through the portal.
Immediately unbearable heat washed over him, and he dropped to his knees, spluttering on a mouthful of smoke.
Someone seized his arm roughly and hauled him back into the daylight. He heard a cry of anger as whoever it was saw the unconscious guards, but he was more focused on the richly dressed figure being led out of the grain house immediately behind him. Heath let out a sigh of relief as King Matlock emerged, coughing and sooty, but clearly in one piece.