Then he hit the wall, the shock running up through him like a thousand ants biting his skin. Somehow he managed to keep his feet, the familiar pain in his back returning tenfold. Leah shrank from him, shaking her head, her hands up and waving as if she could push away everything that was happening to her.
It was all too much for her to bear. Her eyes rolled up into her head, and she slumped to the floor, unconscious.
Whatever strange energy that had possessed her was gone now, and Cain managed to pick her up and put her over his shoulder. He returned to the front room and found his staff and rucksack in the thickening smoke, the weight of Leah’s body making him stumble and nearly fall as he picked them up. Relief washed over him after he had his books and artifacts, but it was short-lived.
The flames were growing quickly, the heat getting fierce. Orange fire began to run up the walls to the ceiling. Cain could not seem to find the way out. Things appeared to fall away from him, the room growing impossibly long, and he thought of a bird’s gaze darting back and forth as it looked for a worm: a black crow the size of the city, spreading its wings to block out the sun.
As Cain stumbled again, nearly overcome, the door to the house crashed open, breaking the spell and letting in cool, fresh air. The black, flapping wings faded away as a giant bearded man with his arm covering his nose and mouth fumbled through the smoke toward them.
He grabbed Cain and half-dragged him and the still-unconscious Leah toward the open door and into the night.
8
One for the Madhouse
Outside the small home, a crowd had gathered. Men were passing buckets of water down a line, trying to douse the flames that had begun to spread through the windows to the roof before they could jump to other houses next door. Other people simply stood and watched, shuffling from foot to foot, muttering to each other and pointing.
The man who had pulled them to safety introduced himself as James, a blacksmith who lived a few doors down. Cain thanked him for his help. “Smelled the smoke,” he said. “Lucky for you, I don’t sleep much.” He gestured toward Leah. “You mind if I take her off your hands and have a look?”
“I’d be grateful.”
James took Leah from Cain’s shoulder as if she weighed nothing at all, putting her gently on the ground. He opened her eyelids, listened to her breathing, and stepped back. “She’s not burned; nothing else seems wrong with her.”
“It wasn’t the fire,” Cain said. “I’m afraid she suffers from hysteria. The stress was too much for her.”
James nodded. “I’ve got a daughter about her age,” he said. “Lives with her mother across town. We don’t see each other much.” He shook his head. “Her mum and me, we weren’t good for each other, and that’s the truth. Now, this one,” he said, pointing at Leah, “I never took to what people said about her or her mother. Sometimes people who stick to themselves get accused of being things they aren’t, and that’s a shame.”
Gillian. In the madness of the fire, Cain had nearly forgotten about her. He looked at the small house, where the townspeople continued to work frantically with buckets of water and seemed to have gotten the blaze under control. But the windows were black with soot, and smoke still drifted from the roof. She could not possibly have survived it.
He was nearly overcome with a sudden weariness, and desperately wanted to find a place to sit down and rest his aching bones. But he knew better. More of the townspeople were staring at them and whispering. It would not be long before the rumors spread. He was a stranger, and they already seemed suspicious of him. That, combined with his recent arrival at Gillian’s home, would make them wonder what had really happened tonight.
For some reason he thought again of that winged creature searching the wastelands and beyond, looking for him even among the blackened and smoking bones of the house, and he wondered if the presence he had felt as the fire had closed in had been real, or only imagined.
A commotion came from somewhere behind the building. Cain heard a woman’s voice, ragged and shouting. He asked James to stay with Leah for a moment, and hobbled toward the sound with his staff, his heart in his throat.
As he reached the corner of the house, a small crowd of people met him there, two large guards holding a struggling woman by the arms. Cain stopped short. It was Gillian, her nightdress torn and black with soot, her graying hair loose and tangled around her shoulders. She looked like she had lost her mind, he thought, and that was probably not far from the truth.
“Caught her down the street, trying to run,” one of the guards said to those who had formed a circle around the new group. “Crawled out the window in back, says she started the fire—”
“Burn in Hell!” Gillian shrieked, spittle flying from crusted lips. “I did it; yes, I did. To burn away the sin, rid us of the evil here. Blind fools, all of you! The end of the world is coming! The skies will turn black, and the earth will vomit up abominations!” She fought the guards holding her, twisting in their grip and trying to claw at them like a howling cat. The guards held on with both hands, but even at nearly twice her size they were nearly yanked to the ground.
“Hold her, damn it,” one of the other men said. He was clearly in charge, a petty nobleman of some kind, still in his sleeping robes and far from home. His face was puffy, and he looked cross. Cain wondered if he had been pulled out of bed himself. Pardon the interruption. The man walked over to Cain and poked him in the chest. “Who are you?”
“Only a simple wanderer,” Cain said. “I knew this woman many years ago, in a town called Tristram. I sought her out for shelter when I reached Caldeum.”
“You’re no wanderer,” the man said, glancing at Cain’s staff and rucksack, his eyes narrowing. “Tristram? That’s the place that was abandoned a few years back after Leoric went mad. Lots of stories there—none of them made any sense. But I don’t trust a soul from that place. Beggars and thieves, all of you.”
“He’s a demon from the depths of Hell,” Gillian hissed. “Don’t be fooled.” She gave a strong yank of her arms that nearly freed her before the guards gripped her again. She stopped and looked into the distance, as if listening, and then smiled, exposing her teeth once again like a predator about to pounce. “We are all tainted. We are born from demons; our souls are black from their stink. I can smell them. And they will return to claim us.”
The nobleman ignored Gillian’s words, although the rest of the smaller crowd shuffled uneasily on their feet and murmured. “What’s wrong with her?” someone shouted. The nobleman put up his hand to quiet them.
“This woman here,” he said, jerking a thumb at her, “she’s been trouble for this city. Her daughter too. Started a fire once before, at a pub. They’re strange ones; people don’t like to be around them. This blaze is under control now, but the next time we may not be so lucky. We can’t leave her and her daughter here alone.”
“She faced a terrible tragedy in our hometown,” Cain said. “Many lives were lost there, and her spirit and mind were broken. I ask you to have pity on her.”
“She could have burned down the whole neighborhood,” a woman said, clutching her shawl around her bony shoulders. She was older, her face sunken, dark circles around her eyes. Her voice was frail and trembling. “And the girl’s a witch. Everyone says so.”
Cain looked around at the faces staring at him. The commotion and Gillian’s raving had attracted an even larger crowd; more had gathered quickly from the street, and he began to be concerned that they’d get violent. They were frightened, and Gillian’s lunatic actions were making things worse.
“Ask him about his own secrets,” Gillian said quietly, her voice now filled with a soft cunning. The predatory smile had not left her face. “Ask him why those closest to him left him alone. Why they disappeared.”