Many would later call Giradin a coward for what he did next, but what was he supposed to do when a burning tide of rats swarmed after him?

He ran.

Giradin turned and fled from the rodent horde as fast as his feet could carry him. The synagogue's door was still broken open, so he charged through the gap, crying out to the passersby. "Flee! Flee!"

Behind him he could hear the high-pitched screams of what must have been thousands of desperate rodents, and the roaring sound of their approach. Ahead of him, he saw the orange glow from the flames, and black smoke above. Townspeople screamed and fled, along with their children and their dogs. Even the city watch turned tail upon seeing the disaster that had been unleashed from within the depths of the abandoned synagogue.

Giradin felt the heat growing behind him as he ran, and heard the crackling of burning wood.

The houses have caught fire!

Ahead of him, down an impossibly-long road, he spotted the city gates, which he remembered had been barred shut.

They must open it... they can't just let us all die here!

His breath fogged up the lenses of his mask, and he choked and coughed as simply not enough air got through to his mouth and nostrils. The very same thing that had kept him safe from plague threatened to smother him now, so he undid the straps on the back of his head and removed the mask from his face, the precious air filled his lungs, foul as it may have smelled.

Behind him, the shrieks and squeaks of the rats had ceased, but he still heard the fires raging and could see the black smoke billowing into the skies above.

Ahead of him, citizens gathered at the city gates and pounded on the wood. He couldn't hear what they cried out to the guards and doctors on the other side, but he was sure they were begging to be let free.

Able-bodied men ran past Giradin, toward the fires, with buckets of sand and water in hand. Giradin stayed the course, heading toward the main gate.

"Stand aside!" he cried as he drew near. "I'll get it open! Stand aside!"

The citizens at the gate parted to allow him passage, and the momentum from his long run carried him crashing into the wooden gate. "Let us out of here! You can't leave us to die!" he bellowed.

No answer from the other side.

"I'm a Crow too!" Giradin yelled. "Look! Look through the gaps and you'll see! I'm one of you! Let us out!"

"Our job is to stop the plague from spreading. That is all," came a cold reply from the other side.

"DAMN YOU!" Giradin shouted and beat his gloved fists on the gate. He glanced back at the leaping flames in the distance and the pillar of smoke rising from the inferno. "Open this fucking gate, you bastard!"

Silence met his pleas.

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

"Damn you to Hell!" Giradin shrieked.

The commoners beat their fists on the gate, shouting all at once their various bribes and demands to be set free from Elekvaz. All the while the fires grew behind them. The larger men threw their shoulders against the gate, over and over, making no discernible progress with getting it open.

"Out of the way!" came a bellowing voice behind them, and Giradin was swept aside as the crowd parted ways again. Three men with wood-cutting axes rushed forward and attacked the gate. Splinters flew with each strike. More common people piled in with hammers and axes in hand, assaulting the gate with all their might. Those around them cheered and threw their shoulders into the gate in their attempts to break it.

At first, Giradin was among those cheering as the commoners tried to break the gate.

Until he remembered Isselhan.

"Wait!" he cried. "Stop!" He waved both hands over his head in a vain attempt to get his fellow citizens' attention. "If you break through they'll kill us all!"

Giradin couldn't tell if they were ignoring him or simply hadn't heard him. In their panic, they continued to assault the gate, breaking holes through the wood.

Snap!

One of the axe-men fell dead with a crossbow bolt through his eye.

Snap!

Snap!

Giradin felt the wind of a crossbow bolt flying past his head, and saw another pierce one of the townsmen's shoulders.

The noise rose to a deafening cacophany between the screams of terror and pain, the roaring fires, the barking dogs, and Giradin's own attempts to warn the people not to break through the gate.

"Our only hope is to fight the fire!" Giradin shouted, but even he couldn't hear his voice.

Knowing these people were headed to their own deaths, Giradin turned to face the fire. He was determined to help combat the blaze as it seemed the only chance they had at survival.

He'd not taken two steps before the crowd caught him up in its flow and flung him back. As if they'd all become one body, the citizens slammed against the gate, and Giradin's body was crushed in the middle of it all.

"Turn back!" he cried, his voice starting to get hoarse. "Turn back!" His arms flailed around as the flow of the crowd pulled him back and threw him forward again, crashing into the wooden gates.

Spear-heads popped through the holes in the gates and blood sprayed the crowd as the weapons sliced throats open and pierced hearts. More crossbow bolts flew through, striking down those within.

Over the heads of the crowd, Giradin watched as the flames leapt from one rooftop to another. Then another. The blaze was spreading faster now, and the efforts of those brave enough to attempt to put it out seemed to have little effect, if any.

In that moment, Giradin was sure that he was about to die. If not from the fire, then trampled under the crowd's feet. If not trampled, then by the spears and crossbows of his fellow Crows. If not from his fellow Crows, then surely from plague, for he had dropped his mask somewhere in the midst of all those people.

He cast his eyes to the blackening skies above, so bleak and devoid of hope or mercy.

"Sweet Jesus! Deliver us!" he cried out. "Saints above, here my prayer!"

When the crowd threw itself against the gate again, Giradin lost his footing and collapsed onto the ground around their feet.

"God Almighty! HELP!" He shouted, even from the ground.

A foot stamped on his sternum.

Then another in his gut.

And leather-booted toes kicked him in the nose.

"Merciful God, help us!"

Giradin curled into a fetal position, protecting his face, chest, and guts the best he could as the citizens of Elekvaz rushed by all around him and stomped on his side.

Then, suddenly, they all stopped. Giradin felt a rush of cool air as they moved away from him, followed by a downpour of cold, wet drops.

He uncurled his body and gazed up at the sky again as a torrential rain flowed down from the heavens.

With pain coursing through his body, Giradin forced himself to his feet and peered back at the fires. The flames shrank back from the rain, and white steam rose where black smoke had once been.

The citizens of Elekvaz all stared up at the sky, a mix of gratitude, confusion, and relief on their faces.

Giradin closed his eyes, spread his arms, and turned his face to the sky, soaking in that sweet, freezing cold rain from above. He didn't know if it was just a crazy coincidence or an answer to his prayer, but he thanked God nonetheless.