“The fire, baby. It will burn us both...”

[Letho]

((Closed to Ira Shinkara.))

Letho hated going on wild goose chases, and that went double if that chase led him into an inhospitable land such as Fallien. In many ways, Fallien was like Haidia only without the roof. The heat was about the same, the xenophobia wasn’t too far off either and the only difference was that the demonic folk from the underground realm was now replaced by the sunburnt locals that wore funny looking, multi-layer outfits that Letho classified as really peculiar type of robes. Well, there was actually another thing that irked the hell out of him. While the temperature in Haidia was rather uncomfortable, that went double when it came to Fallien due to the restless sun that wanted to scorch the already singed piece of earth. Even though he and Myrhia were both Daywalkers – vampires that could handle sunlight – the excessive daily illumination combined with the heat wasn’t something they enjoyed.

Well, at least one of them didn’t. Unlike Letho, Myrhia didn’t allow for the environment to quench her chirpy spirits. She felt the discomfort the same as Letho – more so due to her extremely pale skin complexion – but the exotic beauty of the foreign land was simply too intriguing to be overlooked because of some mild nuisance. So while Letho walked through the Irrakam streets as if he was being led to his own funeral, the redhead was rather gleeful at his side, tugging him from one vendor to the other as she checked out the eerily wares. She seldom bought anything during her browsing – her coyness always reluctant to spend some of their hard earned money – but today that was not the case. Dangling from her ears were a pair of newly acquired earrings made out of genuine Fallien glass (or so the hawker said) and around her neck, somewhat covering the nasty black tattoo, was a necklace made out of what seemed like the same emerald glass bits. And because of this gift she was as happy as a child.

But purchasing outlandish wares wasn’t why the pair was in Fallien capitol. No, it was the wild goose chase, similar to the one they went on in Haidia mere weeks ago. The brass that commanded the Corone Rangers had another lead about the mysterious Coalition, an organization that was supposed to have its origins in Corone, but acted outside its boundaries. In Haidia they allegedly sponsored an insurrection of the locals with a sole purpose to weaken the demon realm, but the actual proof that Letho managed to gather from his investigation was mostly rumors and hearsay. He got in heaps of trouble though, both of them did on that occasion, but the statements of the witnesses never revealed any detail about the Coalition. It was a ghost organization, existing between the unreal and the real, and Marshal Letho Ravenheart was sent to the location they would supposedly strike next.

However, besides the rather suspicious looks from most of the locals that made him feel unwelcome, there was nothing amiss in Irrakam. The Marshal requested an audience with Jya, but the list was so long, he was bound to get to talk with the Fallien queen some time next month. So he stuck to the streets, talking to the few that actually wanted to share some information, but he was getting nowhere except blind alleys. If the Coalition was present in the Fallien capitol, they were either keeping a low profile or the info was wrong and this cell was dormant. Letho didn’t mind too much. It was basically a paid vacation for Myrhia and him.

“Letho, I’m hungry. Could be get something to eat? I think I saw a nice little restaurant where they serve that spicy stuff we ate the day before yesterday.” the redhead that clung to his arm asked, looking up at him with a mild smile. The pair of earrings – jewelry she never wore until their visit to Fallien – dangled gingerly from her lobes, its color in sync with her doe eyes. Attired in her short scarlet skirt and a sleeveless tank-top of the same color, she was a vision of beauty to him despite the fact that she was nothing more then a scrawny lass with unremarkable figure. The spicy stuff she mentioned was a local dish that Letho couldn’t quite figure out, consisted of what seemed like strips of some sort of pastry and chunks of meat seasoned in a manner that made it peppery enough for both of them to break a sweat while eating. Still, it was a pleasant taste, especially once it was washed down with a sip of wine.

“Didn’t you burn your tongue enough the last time? The waiter had to refill your glass twice before it stopped burning.” he responded with a mild smirk, walking down the cobbles of one of the multitude of Irrakam streets. The leather coat that usually covered his body was gone due to heat, leaving him in a pair of dark blue denim pants and a white linen shirt that still smelled like the soap Myrhia used to wash it.

“I wasn’t ready that time. It was steaming hot and spicy and I put too much of it in my mouth.” she replied. “But I’ll take it easy this time.”

“Alright. But don’t you come running to me in the middle of the night, asking to get you a glass of water.”

Of course she would and of course he would fetch her the water. There was nothing Letho wouldn’t do for the redhead nowadays. The pair made their way into the terrace of the restaurant whose name the Marshal couldn’t catch from the sign and soon they were sipping on the white wine and waiting for their order. The scent that was coming from the kitchen was pleasant, provoking even more hunger in their bellies, but suddenly it was replaced by a bitter, smoky scent. Myrhia wriggled her small nose to the smell.

“I think they burned up our food.” she said almost in a whisper, following it with a giggle. Letho smiled, but it was a rather bland looking smile. Because the smoke in the air didn’t seem to be coming from the kitchen.

“I don’t think that’s our food burning, Myri.”

[Iriah Caitrak]

It had been a while since her feet has tread in Irrakam. She didn’t get to travel here often, not only was it far from home and a little on the dangerous side, but if she wasn’t away from Fallien exploring Althanas she was doing missions and couldn’t travel here. She loved this place though, she loved the sights and smells, she loved the people milling about doing their daily business, some none too pleased about it. Not everyone enjoyed haggling with the vendors.

The only thing she wished she could change was some of the looks she got.

As a native of Fallien she had the same complexion as everyone else, but she was taller than most of Fallien’s male population but at least an inch or two. Her hair and eyes were odd and unnatural colours—even for the rest of Althanas as she’d learned—and she had white markings on her bare shoulders. People who didn’t know who or what she was looked at her oddly, those who did know whatever small bits and pieces of the Calerian rumours said prayers as she walked by. It was always like this in Irrakam, or any other place in Fallien where people considered Calerian’s cursed. Sometimes she just wished they’d forget all about Calerian’s and act as if she was just another average person. Just a face never to be remembered in the throngs of people that walked through these streets and browsed these booths everyday.

It wasn’t like that though and would never be like that. In reality she couldn’t do anything about it so Ira just tried to enjoy her time here as best she could. She’d come for cloth and lots of it. Though they did make most of their own clothes, materials were hard to come by in the middle of the desert and sometimes someone would have to go to Irrakam and get some. And that someone just happened to be her right now, and a few other female Calerian’s who had buggered off to do the girl thing and leave her to buy materials. It wasn’t a bad thing, but considering all that had happened in the past few weeks, the mission with Chidori and Rain and the havoc that had occurred during the festival of the dead, she’s just prefer it if they’d chosen someone else.

She still hadn’t sorted out what had exactly happened to her during the festival and the implications of it. Most of it she was still trying to come to terms with. It all felt like a giant dream that had never happened and sometimes late at night, she found herself staring at the ceiling thinking exactly that. As much as she’d like to believe it though, she knew the truth, she knew it really happened and she knew the consequences of it were going to slap her in the face some day.

Now was not that day though. Now was a day where she could sit back and hopefully relax a little. Haggle with some grumpy old man over his wears and the thread count in his material. Perhaps pick up some new things for herself. She loved looking over the weapons dealers, for though she didn’t need any of them, putting to memory new weapons to use and practice with was always fun.

Walking over to one of the booths, Ira eyed some very beautiful fabric dyed in vibrant colours of deep reds, purples, blues and some oranges. There were a few greens but she found them ugly, nothing like the vibrant colours of Concordia, a forest she greatly missed, though she definitely did not miss the man—if that was what he could be called—who she’d found within it. If only she could find deep greens like that here, she’d love to get some new colour into her house. But for now, the purple and reds would do just fine. And of course she had to pick up some materials for clothing as well.

Picking up the material and running it through her fingers, Ira looked at the seller, “What’s the thread count on this?” It was the purple fabric.

“Two hundred, it’s a very nice colour, isn’t it?”

Ira nodded her head. It didn’t feel like it was a two hundred thread count though, it felt less.

“What about the red?”

“Two hundred as well.”

She felt that one between her fingers and knew that it wasn’t either. Still, she loved the colours and the thread count felt like one hundred and fifty, which really wasn’t that bad. It all depended on the price.

“How much for a roll?” A roll of material was usually about seven meters long.

“Two hundred for one roll of each.”

“Two hundred? That’s a little much. After all, this isn’t even a two hundred thread count, it’s more like one hundred and fifty.”

The seller gave her an aggravated looked, “It’s two hundred for a roll.” He said it firmer, as if that was going to change her mind and make her give in.

She just shook her head, “One twenty-five a roll.”

He shook his head, “One seventy-five.”

“No, way. The dye job is nice, but that’s too much for the lower thread count it is. One fifty or I’ll go somewhere else.”

“Fine, one fifty per roll.”

“Excellent. Now, I also need three rolls of light material tan for clothes, two rolls of black, two rolls of white, one red and one yellow.”

The seller began writing some of this down and tallying it up as she listed things off. The materials for clothing were going to be cheaper; the things for housing were more expensive because they were thicker. Designed to keep the sand out and stand up against tough desert storms. Having your house fall down around you was never a pleasant experience.

“Okay, your total is six hundred and fifty-seven, but because you’re ordering so much I’ll take it down to six hundred even. It will take me two days to get the order ready for you.”

Ira smiled; with her job done she could relax for those two days, “No problem. I’ll come by in two days to pick it up.”

She’d also pay for it then. These merchants could be a shady bunch and if you paid for anything up front they were liable to walk away with your money without giving you anything. Just as she was about to go find her friends the smell of smoke on the air drew Ira’s attention. Turning around, Ira was graced with a rather unfamiliar sight of smoke billowing towards a clear, cloudless day. Down the street she could see some small buildings of fire, the flame leaping into the air and coming dangerously close to some of the larger buildings. If someone didn’t act soon this could turn into a huge disaster.

Seeing one of the local restaurants near by and filled with patrons who probably didn’t even know what was going on, Ira raced over to it, “The buildings down the street are on fire, we need help putting out the flames now or it’s going to spread!”

After giving her message, Ira herself raced down the crowded street, through people who were too dumbstruck to do anything, calling for them to follow her and help with the fire.

[Letho]

He obviously wasn’t the only one who acknowledged that there was something amiss in the proximity. A local woman ran up to the restaurant with dismay clearly painted on her facial features, shouting something in what must’ve been Fallien speak because Letho didn’t understand a single word of it. Not that he needed further clarification. It was quite clear that what he had sensed seconds ago she witnessed and was trying to rally or warn as many of the people nearby. Before the Corone Marshal ever got a chance for any kind of communication with the girl – at least asking her where exactly was the fire sighted – the Fallien woman ran back out in the streets, summoning even more people in the same peculiar tongue.

“What’s going on, Letho? What did she say?” Myrhia asked, getting up to her feet and casting a peek at the street. The smoke was now prominent, but it was almost impossible to discern the exact origins of it. “Is it the Coalition?”

“No, I don’t think so. I think somebody was just careless enough to set a house on fire.” he replied. He got up from his seat, stepped from beneath the parasol that overlooked the neatly arranged tables and entered the street that seemed more and more in disarray with each second. “In this heat, it’s bound to spread fast. Come on, let’s see if we can help.”

Neither of them liked fire. Vampirism had its advantages, but on the flip side of the coin, the damage from the flame tongues was devastating to the pair. So needless to say, they generally avoided situations where they would find themselves against a blazing inferno. However, they both knew that their personal security and comfort wasn’t imperative in this situation, even if Fallien wasn’t their realm. So even though they were mere strangers in a peculiar land that didn’t really want them around, the pair scurried through the streets fleetly, in the direction of the woman that seemed to take control of the situation, calling as many people as possible to her side.

They caught up with her in the narrow side alley that was an offshoot of the main street. The first pair of buildings – a rather fancy glass shop and what seemed like a general store that dealt with herbs - were made of brick and seemed impervious to any kind of hazard. But deeper in the alley, the solidity and structural integrity gave way to smaller, more modest houses that in turn turned into unsightly wooden shacks. These huts burned like gunpowder. The wood was as dry as the desert itself and the shabby roofs made out of palm leaves disappeared under the devouring flames as if they were made out of paper. A pair of elderly citizens stood in front of this scene, crying into their hands, unable to salvage anything from their homes that were turning into ash and smoke in front of their very eyes. To the side of them, the owners of the nearby houses were already at work, casting bucket after bucket of water at their own houses, trying to insulate it from the oncoming flames. It was a good strategy, but at this vehemence, the fire would eat through their homes almost effortlessly.

“We’re here to help.” Letho said, his breath rather hasty as he stood next to the violet-haired woman. She managed to mobilize quite a flock, but they were like headless flies, each one doing what they thought was best and none of them really on a good course to remedy the dire situation. The Marshal decided to take the reins of the downhill-heading wagon.

“We need to form a chain. Made out of people.” he said to the woman, uncertain whether or not she could understand him. “They need to stretch from that well back on the main road to here. And we need buckets, a lot of them. Or anything that can hold water.”

He did his best to gesture with his hands just in case she didn’t understand Tradespeak, hoping that she would be able to relay the idea to the locals that stood scattered around them. “We need two lines, one for each side of the street. If we don’t stop this soon, the entire block will be in flames in less then an hour.”

The heat was slowly becoming unbearable, pinching at the bare skin of his forearms and eliciting a sheen of sweat on his face. At least there was no wind, Letho thought. If there were some, however mild, it would fuel the fire better then anything else ever could. Behind him, Myrhia tried to shield herself from the emanated heat by his large bulk, her pale skin suffering in such harsh conditions. She could tolerate heat better then Letho, but these extreme conditions seemed to sap the majority of strength from her. She would do her part, the Marshal knew, but for the time being she was just glad that he took over the command, harshly and strictly, the way he always did.

[Iriah Caitrak]

Having control so easily taken away from her was not something Ira was used to. She was a natural born leader and those instincts automatically kicked in, in a situation like this one. She knew what to do and how to do it and she didn’t need any help getting there. However, this stranger who couldn’t even speak the native language here decided it was best that he be put in a leadership position when perhaps her and handful of others here right now could understand him.

She didn’t like it, but she had to admit, he was on the same track that she was. Having dealt with fast spreading fires before she was going to suggest the same thing he had. Still, that didn’t mean she liked it. He was a foreigner trying to lead people that could barely understand him; he might as well have been speaking in gibberish to those in the crowd. They were looking to her more than they were to him; after all, she was the one who had called them down here.

“Adrendakra! Sirk es alaskra, adrendakra!”

Ira quickly rallied the townspeople into motion. The crowd scattered as people ran wherever they could to get the buckets required to dowse the flames.

“Urukra, alash ikirielle asra!”

It took seconds that seemed like hours to Ira, but she was able to rally everyone into two lines between here and the well. Even with her calls some of the townspeople would do nothing but stand around to stare at the fire. It was as if they needed to lead by the hand, like they just couldn’t act properly in a panic situation. Squash the panic and do whatever was necessary.

The lines were slow moving at first, but after a few goes everyone started picking up a rhythm to it and the lines moved along quickly, leaving Ira and the two strangers at the front.

The female didn’t seem very fond of the flames where as the male, whoever they were, just jumped into the fray of things naturally. He probably had the same instincts she did, jump into a situation and just take control of it. Unlike the redheaded females, Ira was used to the heat, the pinching of skin, the sheen of sweat that was beginning to break out. She dealt with it all the time and had no problem getting in close to the flaming buildings to throw the water upon the structures in a desperate attempt to dowse the flames. A few times the flames even jumped dangerous close to her, licking at her skin, but she paid them no attention.

It reminded her of the Gwalior, when her the child Damon Kaosi had been trapped in a ship while it burnt down. But this was nothing like that situation and could not be remedied so easily.

Bucket after bucket came down the lines. Soon the muscles in her arms and shoulder began to ache from the weight of the water and the strength required to heft the bucket.

“Ira!”

Turning, Ira saw the familiar faces of Uriahd and Messia. No explanation was needed for them to know exactly what was going on and what needed to be done. They too quickly started grabbing buckets as they came from the line and threw the contents onto the flaming buildings. With their help and added strength the water was winning in its fight to smother the flames.

Seeing this, the townspeople gave out a quick cry of triumph and though tired they may have been, continue to pass buckets down and along the lines. Another twenty minutes later and the flames were all destroyed, the buildings left to smoulder. The blackened cinders still steaming from the heat within them and further in there were still light glows from the embers that had yet to be dowsed, but Ira was unsure if she could lift another bucket. Her arms felt like they could fall off at any moment.

Breathing in a sigh of relief that they had actually accomplished putting out the flames, Ira wiped the sweat from her brow, smudging ashes into her skin and leaving streaks of black. She didn’t really care right now, she was sweaty and covered in ash everywhere and she really just wanted a hotel room and a very cold shower then one damn fluffy mattress and twelve hours of sleep.

*“Mirk dens ak si, siahd?”

Ira looked up and at Uriahd and followed her line of sight over to the stranger who had helped her.

*“Kratos asi, Uri, mi hirken siahd da urkun.” Ira said back to her.

Moving away from Uriahd and Messia, Ira made her way over to the two of them. As much as she hadn’t liked the control being taken away from her like he had, he had helped and deserved thanks because of that.

“Thank you, siahd, for helping. My name is Ira, that’s Uriahd and Messia over there. Without your help the outcome may have been different.”

Without their help the out come would have been the same, but Ira was not going to say something like that.

(*“Who’s the cute stranger?”)
(*“Back off, Uri, I think the stranger’s married.”)

[Letho]

The local bird – who later identified herself as Ira – seemed rather irked by his propositions, or rather the authority with which he dictated it to her. She didn’t display her dissatisfaction openly, but her defiant face was message enough to Letho that she wasn’t too happy with the fact that he took charge of the situation. He wasn’t surprised by this nor did he let this to disrupt his efforts. During his first visit to Fallien, he learned that the women here were proud and dominating – a fact that Myrhia adored – and Ira was no different. Luckily, it seemed that both of them yielded a little bit on account of that there was a fire that didn’t care about petty differences, so he restrained himself from reiterating his orders and she translated his commands to the crowd. It took them a while, but soon enough there were two rather straight lines formed, just like he intended.

He instructed Myrhia to keep taking the empty vessels back to the well. She hesitated for a couple of seconds, telling him that she could do her part if he needed her, but they both knew that this was the best role for her. Not only was the heat already causing her pale skin to redden unhealthily, but she was also the fleetest of the bunch by far. Light-footed and willowy, the lass dashed to and fro ceaselessly, the tin buckets jangling at her side.

Letho and Ira were at the forefront, in a direct conflict with the fire, and the bulky human had to admit that seeing her fight the flames vehemently instilled new respect for women. She was downright fearless, getting even closer then him to the enflamed houses and showering them with the crystal water. Luckily, the Marshal didn’t have to get that close. His inhuman strength enabled him to fling the contents of the vessels from greater distance and almost twice as fast as everybody in the proximity. But there was no competition here. They were all focused on one goal; to douse the fires and prevent them from spreading further. The buckets passed hands, the fires crackled and the water hissed as it hit them, and the ordeal went on for almost half an hour. And then finally, when even Letho felt fatigue in his muscles, the flame tongues started to lose their vehemence and were soon turned into nothing but tendrils of gray smoke.

The people cheered, their faces filthy gray, some of them collapsing to the ground with smiles on their faces. The smoke was so thick around them now that Letho couldn’t see Myrhia on the other end of the street, sitting on the well ledge and taking a breather herself. Nobody minded the bitter mist that stood around them, their lungs developing somewhat of a resistance to it during the exertion. There was nothing left of the wooden shacks but a charcoaled outline and a pair of brick chimneys, but given the circumstances, the damage to Irrakam was minimal.

At his side, the bossy Fallien woman was joined by a pair of others who seemed genuinely interested in the Marshal. They spoke in the native tongue – that sounded mighty queer to Letho with its plentiful usage of letter “k” – and ultimately it was Ira that approached him. Her thanks were noted with a courteous bow of his head, a remnant of his royal upbringing that seemed so out of place in the place that looked like a genuine war zone. “Ladies.” he greeted the two in the background before diverting his eyes to Ira.

“Make nothing of it.” he spoke, his tone a bit raspier that he intended it to be due to the inhaled smoke. He cleared his throat with a grumbling cough before he continued. “I’m Letho Ravenheart and that over there...” he pointed towards the redhead that was a bit vague through all the smoke. She seemed content with sitting on the well for the time being, but when she noticed him, she gave the group a half-gleeful, half-tired wave. “...is Myrhia. We’re strangers, as you might’ve guessed, mere visitors from Corone.”

Their breather was cut short almost as soon as he finished his introduction. A man – just as ash-faced and sweaty as the rest of them – came running down the main street, then paused when he saw the gathered crowd and shouted some words that Letho didn’t understand. The general mirth of the mass seemed to change rapidly, grim frowns back on with a vengeance. Myrhia clarified the reason for him, shouting from her distant spot beside the well.

“Letho! There are more fires! At least five or..”

KA-BOOM!!!

A detonation cut the redhead short. So powerful and deafening it was that it felt to Letho as if a cannon fired right next to his ear. And even as it finished, another resounded through the streets. The two explosions collapsed a pair stone buildings behind their backs, effectively turning the street into a blind alley. The Marshal turned to the crushed buildings that were nothing but a fiery rubble in less then a second, his ears buzzing to the point that he felt they were bleeding. And then another two explosions, this time on the closer end of the street, pulverizing the spices shop and the glass store that stood on the opposite corners. The pair of tall buildings fell inwards and caught fire – a peculiarity given the fact that they were made out of bricks - but Letho was in no state to make rational judgments in the turmoil.

The face of the Marshal, that was seconds ago red from the exposure to fire, turned pale. Not because of the devastating fireworks, not because he was trapped from both sides by a wall of fire that would only advance forward, not even because he couldn’t hear a thing at the moment. No, it was because a fraction of a second after the second two explosions, when the pair of buildings still slowly crumbling onto the streets, he saw Myrhia falling into the well, knocked off the ledge by the power of the detonation.

“Myrhia...”

[Iriah Caitrak]

(Seems like a good plan to me.)

Ira covered her ears as the explosions rang out through the alleyway and all of Irrakam. She’d never heard anything like it before and had a suspicion she may never hear anything again. Her ears were ringing inside of her head and she could hear the explosion long after it had dissipated. Turning around, Ira saw what used to be a long street behind her now cut off in fiery rubble. Her heart dropped in her chest and she hoped to the Gods of Fallien that no one had been in those buildings or around them when they collapsed. The last thing she needed to deal with as a Calerian was lost souls.

Another explosion went off and Ira turned in its direction, watching the buildings crumbled down to the dirt street below them, their stone structures flaming from within. She’d never seen anything like it before, why were the buildings exploding and why were they catching on fire? They were made out of stone; there was nothing for the flames to feed on and nothing within them that would cause such a thing.

The people in the alley were just as dumbstruck as she was, watching the buildings before them burn and Ira realized that they had to get the Hell out of here. The buildings could collapse further inward, debris could fall on them or another explosion could occur at any moment. Grabbing Uri and Messia, Ira started yelling orders at them to move the people out of the alleyway and towards the safety of the open streets of Irrakam. She had to scream it for them to even hear her their ears just as bad at hers.

As they raced off to the gather the people, Ira turned her attention to someone else.

“Letho, Letho!!!”

When he didn’t respond to her, Ira raced over to him and grabbed his arm, tugging at him to follow them.

“We have to get out of here!”

In the confusion of the moment, Ira forgot about Myriah, the woman she’d never met and had only briefly seen. In the back of her mind she probably thought Uri or Messia would be able to get her or perhaps her thoughts weren’t completely in order. She was taking care of the people she could see and she couldn’t see Myriah.

Uri ran up and joined her with the last group of people and Ira began leading them towards the only way not blocked by burning rubble. Messia was ahead of her, leading another group of people out from alleyway, but suddenly two more explosions rocked the ground and Ira watched in horror as rubble and fire began to crumble down from the buildings blocking the only way out. People began running for their lives to get away from it and the last she saw of Messia was her helping someone up before the rumble blocked her view.

“Messia!”

Her name was screamed at the top of her lungs and Ira knew even if she’d made it to the other side she’d never be able to hear her. Looking at the burning stones blocking their way, tears began to form in Ira’s eyes as she thought about whether or not Messia had made it to the other side or been crushed by the falling buildings.

“Ira, we don’t have time to worry about her.”

“I know…I know, I just can’t help but wonder if…” Her voice trailed off.

“She’ll be fine, Messia’s as tough as they come and you know it!”

That was true; Messia was one of the tough ones. Giving Uri an encouraging though forced smile, Ira took a deep breath and tried to get a hold of the situation again. She yelled to the small group of people they hadn’t been able to get out of the alleyway to stay calm and that they’d figure a way out of this. She didn’t really have any kind of plan besides trying to climb over burning rubble, which did not sound very appealing, but she’d think of something she had to. Purgatory was out of the question, it would be no safer than this place if there were Fallen in it, in fact less so actually and Uri and her could not protect such a large crowd.

Leading them away from the burning structures, Ira tried to think of some way to get everyone out of this situation alive and in one piece.

[Letho]

“The Coalition! The bloody Coalition! This was their work!” the rational part of Letho’s mind hollered, but the only thing that he registered was the dreadful sight of Myrhia falling into a well. He could see her hands reaching towards him – a detail that his usurped mind added – and scream his name as she fell into the cold abyss. The buzzing in his ears slowly receded and the sounds of panicky mass were plentiful, but all that the Marshal heard or cared about was the lissome redhead that could be dying on the bottom of a well.

Ira tore him from his daydream – or rather his daynightmare. The purple-haired Fallien woman grabbed him by his elbow, trying to usher him away from the flames beyond which Myrhia was most likely dying. Her words seemed distant to him at first, as if they were shouted from a great distance, but soon enough he acknowledged their meaning. Yes, they had to get out of here. Out of here and on the other side as quick as possible. More out of necessity and pure reason, Letho followed the confident female, thinking she was familiar enough with the maze-like alleyways of Irrakam. The crowd around him was on the verge of becoming a stampede, pushing and showing and trying to get out of the inferno that just decided to devour them. Thanks to his ample physique, the Marshal was able to make his way to the front of this demented herd, alongside Ira and behind one of her friends.

And then another pair of buildings exploded, nearly knocking him off his feet with its vehemence and closing off yet another way out. The mass tried to stop their advance, some trampling over the others in an attempt to come to a full stop, before they started to make their way in the opposite direction. Ira and her lady friend were deliberating on something, and then they too followed the crowd, the sure-footed woman once again assuming command over the headless beast that was the grouped people.

“This is getting nowhere.” Letho muttered, now pushing his way through the frantic batch of Fallien locals with almost no courtesy whatsoever, elbowing the young and the old alike. His mind’s eye didn’t see the smoke-filled, heat-packed trap that the explosions sprung around them. His mind’s eye kept looking at the flashing warning sign and Myrhia’s face behind it. Minutes were passing in this scampering from one miss to the next, with the folk moving around like brainless animals that were agitated and followed their pack. Perhaps he could take them out, take them through some of the standing buildings and crush come walls to paw the road for them. But that would take minutes. Minutes that Myrhia didn’t have.

In the end, standing at an intersection with fire coming at him from all sides, Letho had to weigh and measure the worth of Myrhia’s life and compare it to that of the many. He looked around, noticed Ira trying to get the chaos into order, noticed the terror on the ash-covered faces, noticed the collection of faces that were either to be saved or sacrificed. And then his mind offered Myrhia’s face again. And there was no doubt in his mind. As harsh and callous as it seemed – and it was harsh and callous – they were expendable, they were just faces in a collection that he kept in the dark part of his mind. Myrhia, however, was not.

“I have no time for this.” he muttered, detaching himself from the crowd and approaching the impassable wall of fire that emanated enough heat to almost scorch his hair. A bit to the side, discarded after their initial nugatory victory over the fire, was one of the blankets that were used to douse the smaller flames. The Marshal picked it up, then tracked down one of the buckets that was still half-filled with water. It would have to suffice. He stretched the blanket, poured water over it, hoping that he created at least a feeble insulation for himself. Some of the Fallien folk approached him, desperate for some kind of a plan from Letho, asking something in their incomprehensible language, but they seemed unable to get the message through the focused warrior.

“I’m sorry.” was all they got in return. Some people called him a hero back in Corone, but the Marshal was no such thing and he was well aware of it. He didn’t have a spotless career, didn’t play it by the book and didn’t always do what seemed like the right thing in the public’s eye. There was a pyramid of values within him, its contents drifting in between the Old Code and the new set of rules the hardship of his life outlined. And on top of that pyramid was the redhead that was probably drowning on the other side of the bedlam.

He threw the blanket over his shoulders, then pulled it up over his head, and with the pitiful faces of the Fallien folk etching themselves into his head in order to haunt him forever, he dashed towards the fire. He sprinted alongside the wall of one of the buildings, using the sill of one of the windows as a leverage to amplify the leap that led him straight through hell. He could handle the ghosts of those people haunting him. Unlike Myrhia’s.

The only thing he remembered from his flight through the flames was the sickening ache all over his body that felt like thousands of hot fingers pinching him and leaving a burn mark. The scent in his nose was that of gunpowder and petroleum, a perfect explanation why the stone building seemed to burn as if they were dropped straight to the pits of the underworld. He crash-landed on the cobbles on the other side, nearly crushing a rather elderly gentleman that did his best to extinguish the flames with a rather battered bucket. Letho rolled from the momentum, throwing away the blanket and quenching the fire that caught a lock of his short hair once he came to a full stop. Most of his exposed skin seemed to be on fire, but after a couple of seconds he recognized as a mere shock from the burns against his vampiric skin.

“The others? Where are the others?” a voice from the gathered batch of tanned people spoke, but the Marshal refused to comment. He struggled back to his feet and pushed through those that tried to help him up in order to get to the well.

“The girl.” he spoke, then coughed dryly as he leant over the ledge. “There was a girl sitting here before the explosion. The shock wave pushed her in.”

Most of the faces looked at him with that blank expression that made it quite clear they didn’t understand a word he spoke. Those that could decipher Tradespeak shrugged their shoulders. “Damn you!” he shouted, and then added into the echoing depths of the well: “Myri! Myri, I’m coming!”

And without another word spoken or another thought conjured, Letho jumped into the well.

[Iriah Caitrak]

Ira was so caught up in keeping the people calm and trying to formulate a way out of there at the same time that she didn’t even notice when Letho ran off towards the mountain of rubble. Uri did though and she watched in horror as the man covered himself in a wet blanket and tried to get over the top. Thinking he was going to get himself killed in the process, Uri left Ira’s side and raced over as fast as she could, calling his name and trying to get his attention. It wasn’t working though. Cursing her luck and the stupid ways of foreigners, Uri tried to make her way up the side of the rubble after him. She couldn’t see him getting out this way, she could only see him catching himself on fire and needing someone’s help.

In the end, it was a stupid decision on both of their parts, him for doing it and her for chasing after him. Not even halfway up the rubble gave way under the weight of a wrong step. The side of what was once a building collapsed and took Uri down with it into the fiery depths. The rest of the walls coming down seconds after her fall, crushing and killing her before the flames and the smoke ever got the chance to do their job.

“Uri what about…Uri?”

Confused as to where Uri could have run off at a time like this, Ira turned to watch her lifetime friend follow after Letho and then disappear into the flames. Not even needing the confirmation from her senses of her friend’s soul being released. There was no way she could have survived it no matter how much her soul screamed for it to be so on the inside.

A hand covered an open mouth that refused to scream and eyes that should have been flooding with tears watched in a blank expression as the building collapsed further in upon itself.

“Uri…”

---------------------------

A half an hour later, feeling numb and not even able to acknowledge the pain inside of her, Ira waded through the filth and waters of the sewers of Irrakam. There was no ledge for them to walk on, no slightly elevated area for them to keep away from the sludge. Just the tunnel, knee deep filled with things she would rather not think about, but thought about instead of thinking of Uri. The smell couldn’t even get to her in this place; though it tried to choke the very air from her lungs she ignored it.

Those behind her were not faring so well though. She’d managed to find the small sewer drain minutes after she’d seen Uri fall into the flames. Knowing it would be hard and filthy; the Calerian warrior had known that the sewers were their only way out of it, no matter how disgusting they were. The hard part had been getting everyone down into the small space and then from there moving around. There were so sconces, no flames to light their way and only occasionally was the darkness broken by a small sewer grate letting in the light.

The worst part was Ira had no idea where she was taking these people and how far she had to travel. She could guess and guess she did. Judging from where they’d entered and what direction they’d come in she knew they didn’t have much farther to go. Two more sewer grates and they should be able to move up to the surface without having to worry about burning buildings. Twice now she’d passed by small openings above her where the sun was not lighting her way but the embers of a still burning fire.

Behind her the people gagged on the retched air that filled this place. She could even hear some of them stopping to throw up.

“We’re almost there, just a few more minutes.”

And a few more minutes it was. Finally, Ira came to a grate in the side of the tunnel that seemed like a good distance from the buildings and the mess that had become the alleyway. She wouldn’t know for sure, not until she lifted it up and actually poked her head outside, but she was pretty certain she could hear the sounds of people above her.

Grabbing the ladder, Ira hoisted herself up and climbed to the top, feeling the watchful eyes of those behind her the whole way. Using her arm and her shoulder, Ira pushed against the heavy grate, managing to somehow lift it on her own and shove it off to the side. Someone noticed her and began yelling to others and soon there were helpful hands helping her out of the sewers openings. Once the crowd realized what was going on more people came to help and within minutes they had everyone out of the filthy sewers and those reunited with their friends and family hugged and cried not even caring about the filth that covered them.

“Ira, Ira!!”

Turning, the Calerian saw Messia running towards her, a smile on the woman’s face. Relief broke out in Ira as she saw her alive having feared the worst when the explosions had cut the two of them off.

“Messia!”

The two embraced in a long hug.

“God, you smell like…I don’t even want to name it.”

Ira laughed and looked down at her pants and boots. They were completely ruined and no amount of washing was going to help them.

“Where’s Uriahd?”

The mirth left her eyes and the smiled died horribly into a grimace on her face. No explanation was needed.

“By Purgatory…Ira…” The two embraced again in a hug they both wished could take the pain away from one another at the loss of such a friend. Ira could feel the cold tears of her friend bite into her shoulder but she still couldn’t find the tears within herself.

[Letho]

Only when he leapt over the ledge and his freefall commenced, a thought flashed through Letho’s head that the chances were he would land on Myrhia and cause more harm then good. But when the chips were down and it was time to act, his precipitancy always overruled that tiny voice of reason in the back of his head that ineffectively pulled on the reins and screamed: “Whoa, boy!”. Sometimes rushing headlong into something saved lives. Sometimes it only contributed to the direness of the situation. The Marshal had to make sure that the latter doesn’t happen today.

Instinctively his hand reached for something that would slow his descent and found the chain on which the large bucket hanged. Inhumanly strong fingers clutched to the cold metal, making the winch above go from dormant to spinning at blistering speed in an instant. The chain unwound to the fullest, jerked Letho’s bulky body and sent it crashing against the wall. Luckily for the Marshal, both the chain and the windlass were sturdy enough to support his weight. He continued his descent like a spelunker, hands holding to the chain and feet backpedaling down the smooth, mossy tiles. There was little light this deep in the water hole, just enough for him to notice the reflection of the smoky skies in the shimmer of the water below. And compared to the situation above, it was eerily cold.

“Myri! Myri, talk to me!” he kept repeating, but even when the next step took his feet below the surface of the water, there was only the faint echo that returned his call. Without a moment of deliberation, Letho let go of the chain and dipped his body into the cool water. There wasn’t enough room to swim on the bottom of the well, but he swept the surface thrice, pushing himself from one side of the circular pool to the other, and on his third sweep, when his heart was ready to cease beating and his mind entered the panicky stage, his fingers made contact with a lifeless shoulder.

“Myrhianna?!” he cried, calling her by her full name like he usually did when the situation was critical. But she didn’t answer and when he pulled her closer, her scrawny body was as cold as an ice shard. More importantly, once Letho’s hand pressed against her neck and his fingers desperately sought the pulse, there was none to be found. His mind’s voice now screamed “ALERT! DEATH IMMINENT!” from the top of its imaginary lungs, but the Marshal knew that it wasn’t over yet. He could still help her, he had the skill, he just couldn’t do it while floating on the bottom of the well.

“Myri, baby, hold on. Don’t you dare die on me!” he muttered, placing her body over his shoulder and tracking down the chain. With his eyes on the small circle of gray clouds that seemed miles above him, his hands worked vehemently, clasping on the chain one over the other and lifting the pair at remarkable speed. A couple of unfamiliar faces above noticed Letho climbing back up and joined hands on the winch, speeding up the ascension. In less then thirty seconds the Corone Marshal once again breathed in the bitter smoky air that burned his lungs as he remerged from the well. Those not involved in his extraction cheered, those that did, jumped into help him and Myrhia over the ledge and on the hot cobblestones of the street. Somebody said something then ran away, probably to fetch the local healer, but Letho didn’t even hear them. Regardless of how his body begged him to take a breather, he pushed himself up and knelt over the redhead’s body. Her already pale skin was sickeningly white, her usually perky, rosy lips unhealthily purple.

Never has their kiss been so cold, so frigid as the one Letho gave her once he opened her mouth. He exhaled into her, feeling her lugs expand, her poorly-endowed chest rising. His hand pressed against her thorax, massaging it, trying to force the water out of her lungs. The method wasn’t widely accepted amidst the healers – most clerics opted for a more magical approach to resurrection – but he picked it up on one of his many travels, hoping to whatever gods watched over them that it worked. He repeated the process several times, each time more desperate then the last, each time fearing that those perfect lips of hers would never be warm again.

“Breathe, Myri. Breathe...” he spoke, and as if she heard him, the redhead’s throat convulsed and she started coughing out the water. He leant her on her side, her tiny hands clutching to his damp clothes, and once she started to breathe more normally, he embraced her gently. “There you go. You gave me quite a scare, Myri.” he cooed into her ear, feeling her every breath now. Somebody threw a pair of blankets over them, but Letho barely noticed it.

“What... what happened, Letho?” she managed to utter, her voice weak and raspy. “The explosion... I hit my head... It was so cold. I though I was...”

“Shh...” he shushed her, his hand now caressing her sopped hair threads as she shivered in his arms. “All is well now.”

And it definitely seemed so. Myrhia was alive, he wasn’t scorched in his bullheaded charge through the fire and from one of the manholes, Ira emerged with the formerly trapped people following in her wake. The fires weren’t under control yet, not the one in front of him and not half-a-dozen others that burned across the Fallien capitol, but they soon would be. And then maybe there would be a sky above their heads again instead of a thick mist of smoke.

[Iriah Caitrak]

Ira’s line of sight eventually came to stop on the figure of Letho and Myrhia. He was holding her as if she were his beating heart, the very thing that kept him alive. Was she the reason he’d gone so foolishly through the flames? She didn’t know and frankly she wasn’t sure if she cared. His loved one was still alive, but hers was dead now, something so surprisingly hard for her to comprehend considering the fact that she dealt with the dead on a daily basis. She could walk over to him and rant and rave like the best of them, screaming about what his choices had cost her and about how many other lives it could have cost. But what good would it do? He’d made his choice, he’d left them all there to die, not truly caring about their fates and because of his actions someone had died. But because of her actions everyone else had lived.

Yes, she could fault him and she could hate him for doing something so foolish. Hate was not something she needed within her heart and what would he care about her plight anyway? He probably couldn’t even remember Uri’s face and he’d never even known her name, her accomplishments, her life’s journey and struggles.

But she would, and Ira did not plan on forgetting it anytime soon.

Letting go of her friend, Ira carefully stepped out of the embrace. She didn’t want to be touched right now she just wanted to put out these damn fires, collect the body of her friend, finish up what they’d come here for and then go back to her tribe.

“C’mon…let’s help put out these fires. It’s better than standing around crying, right?”

Messia gave her a rather forced smile and wiped the tears from her face. Perhaps Ira was just too hardened from seeing too much death to really cry about it; perhaps it wasn’t going to hit her until later on at the funeral. She didn’t know, all she did know was that she’d lost someone special today and she’d never again be able to hear her laugh or see her smile. She’d never again hear her words of encouragement or see her laughing eyes.

Pushing aside those thoughts, Ira quickly began giving orders to the Fallien around her, rallying them to help put out the fires. Right now it was an unorganized mess of people desperately trying to do some good by themselves, when Ira knew it was the collective that would only have an effect here. Smoke was billowing out from piles of crushed stone that not an hour ago had been people’s homes and people shops. The heat was beginning to become unbearable, even for her. She just wanted away from it, she wanted to cool down and wash away the ash and the sweat.

“Messia, you stay here and keep everyone moving. I’ll go around to the other side and rally those people up if they haven’t already done so.”

She squeezed her friend’s shoulder reassuringly before she jogged off. Both ends of the alleyway had been turned into fiery rubble, if Messia could handle that end then Ira could get things moving on the other end. Within the hour, if they were lucky, the fires would be put out. It would be much easier if they had a shaman who could control water, but Ira did not hold the hope of coming across one.

It took her five minutes to weave through the people, the stalls and the buildings to get to the other side. Over here things were no better. People were rushing around grabbing water from a nearby well and tossing it onto the flames in an unorganized attempt to quench the beast within. It wasn’t working. They needed to work as a team, they needed to get things in order and they needed to attack the same area instead of working on multiple different spots. That would do them no good.

Quickly, Ira kicked into gear. The strongest she kept at the front by the blaze to throw the water onto the stones and the flames. The others she used to form a line and pass the buckets down, the faster ones refilling the metal tins as fast as they could. Bucket after bucket was thrown onto the stones, which sizzled with the contact, some of the water evaporating long before it ever touched flame. Already tired muscles were protesting, but Ira didn’t feel the pain. She chose to ignore it and continue to put her all strength into dousing the fires as fast as she could and the people working alongside her seemed to be under the same philosophy.