Suranihr did everything in his power to hold on to a racing coach. He was used to being on a ship at sea, and although large waves often made it almost impossible to keep his balance, it was never this erratic and quick. Everything shook as horse-drawn wheels rattled against the cobbled road, and a constant hiss of a small steam engine that helped to move the wheels now only helped to make his senses overwhelmed.

Harian did not seem bothered at all. He held the decorative railing of the coach roof, crouched, adeptly keeping balance with every shake of the carriage. He held his pistol in the second hand, trying to pick targets to shoot at but…

There were too many. Their convoy plowed through the refugees as if through snow, some lucky ones were able to jump away from the wheels and hooves, but more of them were simply rammed through and ended up dying next to the paved road.

“How the fuck are you holding on so easily, soldier?” Suranihr shouted at Harian. The soldier just chuckled. “Practice makes perfect, sailor.”

“What the fuck were you doing before this?

Harian’s smile widened. “Guard duty.”

Suranihr kept cursing, trying to get a better hold but his grip kept slipping. His focus was disturbed with a sudden thud, when a thrown pitchfork impaled the carriage driver against the front wall of their coach. He died quickly, and the control over the horses was lost.

“Help me!” Harian shouted, trying to pull the carriage driver away from his seat. Suranihr had no idea how he was able to help the soldier, but together, they pulled the man down from the coach and Harian took the reins. He handed his gun to Suranihr. “Shoot at them! Bows, pitchforks, even long fucking sticks, kill whomever you see that could throw something…”

Hailstorm of rocks started to fall on the coach, and Harian kept cursing. “Kill them fucking all for what I care!” Suranihr started to shoot into the crowd without really aiming, hoping that the thundering blasts from the pistol would disperse the crowd a little bit at least, yet to no avail. He quickly ran out of ammunition, and the only thing he could shoot at the crowd were shouts about their mothers being whores.

The carriage in front of them kept slowing down until it came to a complete stop. Refugees crawled all over the coach like ants, reaching everything and everyone, trying to overpower the defenses.

Harian did not hesitate and stopped their own coach close to the one that was being attacked. Without skipping a heartbeat, he leapt from the driver’s seat and in a whirlwind of blades, he sliced through the refugee crowds, leaving a path of blood and cut-off limbs behind him. Suranihr cursed. Where the fuck did he get that blade from? he thought to himself. He stayed behind, repelling every hand that reached for their carriage.

The carriage door started to open. “Stay inside!” he tried to shout, but before the words left his mouth, a small bright globe launched from the inside of the coach. He quickly turned his gaze away, knowing exactly what to expect from a light bomb.

A small sun appeared above the crowd. Blinding flash of light burned the refugees around, leaving them staggering around, screaming in confusion. “Should have expected that from a mechanic.” Suranihr muttered to himself, cleaving through the crowd and heaping the coach door free of danger.

“Did it help?” Naira shouted through a slit in the doors.

“It did, but there are still too many of them that weren’t blinded.” Suranihr hollered back. “Can you do any other tricks?”

“Yes, but it seems we have a problem.”

“Just one problem?” Harian asked, returning with a wounded guard from the other carriage. Half of his head was scalped from a lucky hit. “Passengers died before I came.” He answered the unasked question.

“The steam engine malfunctioned, from what I can hear.” She said, nodding her head towards a creaking and clanking engine. “It will be next to impossible to move this carriage through the crowd with just horses. It’s too heavy.”

“Would it be too heavy if we took the engine down?” Suranihr asked quickly and, without waiting for an answer, Harian leapt to the back of the carriage and tried to get the engine down. Meanwhile, Auria peeked from the inside. “Get the guard here.” She said and hurried to heal his wound. Combining both the power of the projector and her own wits and experience, the guard was soon smiling at her thankfully.

The blindness started to fade from the people around them, and the furious roaring of the crowd intensified. Hordes of filthy people - now wary of possible danger - moved slowly towards the group.

“What now?” Auria asked.

***

“Another dead… God around us, without your help, I don’t know how I would manage.” Old morgue keeper coughed and smelled the leather pouch filled with holy incense. “Dark times await us, Marias. Put him on the table.”

“Why?” Heers asked. “We are healthy.” He added with a hint of simplicity and stupidity in his voice.

Morgue keeper coughed again and spat a phlegm on the ground. “This is very unusual and unnatural, this illness that’s spreading. The god either punishes us for something, or he makes us undergo yet another of his tests.”

“I’m not ill.” Heers said loudly and stood tall. “I am helping.”

“Yes, yes, you are. But I need to rest. Come, help me dress this last body into the burial gown.”

After they dressed the dead man, Heers left the morgue and went for his temporary home, whistling while walking. Queen Anaid managed to pay for him to have a single, private room in the somewhat decent tavern in the old town - the poorest part of golden city - and he was actually grateful to her. Seeing the filth, death and decay all around him, both while working in the morgue and walking through the streets, he started to appreciate the simple things, such as almost clean blankets and straw mattresses. A significant decline over his former life as a High Lord, but he did manage to make the most of it.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Before he went to his room, he stopped to bathe in the underground bathhouse of the tavern. The water was warm and scented, and he brushed the reek of death from himself very thoroughly, looking for any possible signs of spreading disease.

When he unlocked his room and passed the doorway, a strong, sweet smell caught his attention. He quickly glanced around the room and saw a woman sitting in the shadows near the farthest wall.

“Be calm, Marias.” She whispered in an unknown voice. “Close the door.”

He obeyed and after closing the door and locking them, he turned towards her. “Who are you?”

“A mutual acquaintance sent me.” The woman whispered softly. “Light the fire, please. It’s cold here, and I’m barely wearing anything.”

Heers obeyed again and after a short, silent while, the fire roared in the firepit, filling the room with dim light and warmth.

“Does Anai…”

“No names.” The woman whispered and walked towards him. Now, with at least some light in the room, Heers could see that there indeed was barely any clothing on the woman. She was covered by a thin, see-through dress cut up front to reveal her soft belly, and with embroidered flowers that - as she walked - brushed against the hard nipples on her large breasts. She walked through him, put arms around his neck and stuck a tongue into his mouth. Surprised, Heers pushed her away, but she held him firmly. “Play along.” she whispered, and kissed him passionately. After a few seconds of kissing and undressing, she led him to bed and made him lay on his back. She sat on him and as he entered her hot and wet cunt, she moaned loudly and collapsed into his embrace. “Moan while I speak.” She said, and Heers obliged.

“There has been a development.” The woman whispered into his ear as they copulated. “Queen suspects Victon has created some sort of plague, and that he forced the infected people form border villages to seek refuge in the Citadel. Have you encountered something suspicious during your work in the morgue? Moan louder if yes.”

Heers cried out, a sound of pure pleasure and bliss. Although he now knew what was the purpose of this visit, he had to admit that he enjoyed himself thoroughly.

“Speak.” She whispered, and started to moan loudly.

“The number of dead is increasing every day, all felled by some disease that neither me, nor the morgue keeper has ever seen. He said that bodies with signs of this plague started to appear several months ago, but in much smaller numbers. He also said that the disease is not transferred from the dead, only from the living.” Again, he started to moan so that the woman could speak.

“Try to learn as much as you can. Queen suspects that Victon will use this disease to further blackmail both Malorea and Antigan. Although, Xanwryn is stuck up Victon’s ass so deeply that only his soles dangle out, so there Malorean people should be safe..”

“Why are you acting like a whore, how do you konw so much? Unghh…I’m not going to last much longer…” Heers whimpered, and the woman silenced him with a long kiss, making him erupt inside of her. “I’ve got the seed of high lord in me.” She whispered softly as he let out heavy breaths. “Too bad I’m barren. See you soon, Marias.” She said loudly, as she took three silver coins from the table that Heers certainly did not put there. As she closed the door behind her, he was left alone in the darkness, with only his thoughts keeping him company.

***

“People! Refugees! Do you really want to risk your lives? How could attacking us help you?” Suranihr shouted at the crowd, yet only raised fists and shouting answered him. At least, they did not advance and held their distance. Auria had a hard time concentrating - feeling so much disease around her made her throat tighten and her heart beat very quickly. She tried to focus on words, on particular voices, to discern at least something from the ruckus around.

“Give us all you’ve got!”

“Leave your weapons to us!”

“We are dying, we need help!”

“We are hungry!”

Auria stood in front of the group. “I am medic!” She shouted loudly. “Who needs my help, form a line! One by one!”

People from the crowd hurried towards her, not caring about any sort of order, only to be the first to be healed. Auria took hold of the first person and took him behind the barrier made by Harian, Suranihr and the third guard. Atop the carriage, Naira sat with a long rifle in her hands.

Auria closed her eyes and put her hands on the woman. Slowly and carefully, she tried to see the woman through the projector and as the metallic arm rose from behind her back, the woman screamed and thrashed. Auria held her firmly, and looked inside her, trying to burn out the disease piece by piece.

“A witch!”

“A monster!”

“She’s a demon! She’s going to eat the soul of that woman!”

“Burn the witch in the name of the god!”

With that last shout leaving the throat of the older woman in the crowd, the mass of the people moved. A sound of an exploding grenade thrown by Naira returned Auria to the horrifying reality around her. “No! I’m trying to help! This is just the tool! I’ve healed her, look at her!”

“Witch, witch!” Screamed the now-healthy woman. “She’s a witch!”

“Burn the witch!” The crowd screamed as they pushed against whirling blades of three men in front of Auria. Naira kept throwing explosives into the crowd and although they were highly effective, there were simply too many people around them.

Rocks started to fly. An arrow was shot, piercing Naira’s shoulder, making her drop to her knees. The unknown guardsman was dead, and both Harian and Suranihr were covered in blood from head to toes. Auria did not know whose blood it was, and a panic started to settle in. She wasn’t scared for herself, but she refused to let her companions die while protecting her. She did not know what to do, and a searing pain in her thigh made her cry out. The woman that Auria healed before had her face twisted with fanatic rage, and she stabbed Auria with a rusty knife.

“What are you doing?” Auria cried out as warm blood ran from her leg. The woman raised her arm to stab again, yet Auria was quicker and she impaled the woman with the projector, draining her in the process.

All the nerves in her body were tingling, the ecstasy of life intoxicating Auria’s senses. She felt as if she could do anything, as if she alone could turn the tide of unwashed, diseased people around them away in a single release of pure, unrestrained power…

Suranihr shouted curses, bone shining from his opened arm.

Release…

Harian fought wordlessly, quick as a cat, limping on his right leg with the hilt of a knife sticking out of it…

…the…

Naira was kneeling, trying to unbuckle the grenade with shaking hands, when another arrow hit her, this time piercing through her belly.

…energy.

That was the last drop. They did not do anything wrong. They tried to help. She healed the woman, and she was hailed as a witch. Just for helping someone, she was cursed and condemned to burn? Only because she helped the woman with a tool sticking out of her back?

No. She refused to see her close ones die. She focused her will, her burning rage, the pure hatred and contempt she felt for the blood-crazed crowd into a single thought. She remembered Lakar, as he burned everything he looked at, as he scorched with the projector… She knew that the projector could do it, that it could burn, incinerate, scorch, and she wanted it.

Burn.

She wanted it.

Burn.

She craved it.

Burn.

She willed it.

BURN!

She released it…