by Helen Savore
"Moralynn!"
She turned towards her apprentice. Alexandrea's chest heaved, but she remained still. Moralynn felt a shot of pride, seeing how calm Alexandrea remained despite the circumstances.
"Don't go!"
She shook her head. "I have to try." She tugged the blue tendril once more and jumped into the spinning fire.
9
Alexandrea lifted the wind wall and coughed as dust filled the air. She climbed towards the hole, through the shambles of the counter, gritting her teeth and restoring herself as she passed the broken bits that injured her. Alexandrea gripped the closest floor boards, hanging on for dear life, and leaned her head over the hole, a bit terrified of what she would see.
She was positive Raebyn had tunneled into the Earth Marrow somehow, but what did that do to the land?
The passage went beyond the basement and into bedrock. The fire smoked and grew smaller until the blaze winked out of view.
Gravity returned, and the floor tipped.
Alexandrea reached out. Dead wood or no, based on the shifting ground beneath, she sensed the building’s desire to fall. There was nothing she could do to stop it. Now more traditional physics were taking over as a bit of water sprung into the bottom of the hole. The earth itself was trying to right what magic had ruined.
Not much time.
She would have to worry about the Marrow and Moralynn later. Raebyn couldn’t kill Moralynn, he already failed once.
Now only she remained to fix the aftermath.
Alexandrea lowered her arms, but the strain remained on her body and mind. Her earth and water foci weighed on her. After Moralynn’s accident with the fire foci, she was trying really hard not to overdraw. It was tough, but she didn’t have time to deal with losing any foci strength or a mutilation. She wasn’t sure how long she could hold the building.
A stench filled Alexandrea’s nose, mouth, and throat. Burnt wood was recognizable, if not familiar, but Raebyn’s fireball had slagged the wall and some of the equipment.
The others still huddled in the corner, silent, staring.
Though she held the building, it strained to the point she could feel it in her ordinary senses.
Alexandrea hummed, and the strands of her torc shivered in response. There was no time to influence; she must tell. Could she balance both elements and psyche shaping to protect these folk from the building and themselves?
All six looked to her, with quaking eyes, but closed mouths. Now they were in a receptive mood. Or perhaps that was the shock, looking for a better explanation, not wanting to believe their eyes.
She tapped one of the men on the shoulder and spoke in a slurred monotone. “You’ve been taking a walk. You noticed something in the building nearby. It’s coming down, and you think you saw people inside. You came to look. You’re a brave, concerned citizen.” She shook him. “You did not see the floor buckle or that strange man and woman fight. There were no weapons, and most of all, no magic. This is all nothing, a fleeting flight of fancy in your imagination. Walk away at least three minutes before returning. Remember, the moment you see this store, dial emergency services straight away.”
The gentleman stood, and without any reaction, walked out of the broken store.
“Are you going to do that to the rest of us?”
Alexandrea frowned as she turned and knelt down to Gwen. Her arm was twisted at an ugly angle and burns ran down her body. She must have been caught in the blast. Alexandrea put a firm hand on Gwen’s shoulder, stirring some of the life energies, but couldn't meet her eye. How had she missed her condition?
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I tried to get you out earlier.” She blinked. Perhaps she shouldn’t heal her; it’d make more sense for them to be in worse shape. But she didn’t want them to suffer, either. She was already putting them through plenty in order to sell this as an accident.
The floor boards rumbled, reminding her to hurry.
She pushed a burst life energy through Gwen before standing.
“But we are getting out now, right?” another man asked.
Alexandrea shook her head.
“Why? That’s—”
She held his hand, and he crumpled.
Trefor gasped. “What did you do to him?”
“I made him sleep. I tried to get out as many folk as I could.”
If she’d been on better terms with Trefor to begin with, maybe they wouldn’t have fallen into an argument at the wrong time. But she couldn’t really blame him for hoarding his resentment.
She grabbed Trefor’s shoulder. He struggled to stay awake, but then his eyelids closed, and she eased him to the floor.
Alexandrea returned to Gwen, but the look of confusion in her eyes undid Alexandrea.
Gwen cradled her fixed arm, but her feet flailed against the floor, pushing her back.
Alexandrea could imagine what she was thinking. She couldn’t tell if it was because she was scared, or because her arm suddenly felt better, or if it was something else Alexandrea was doing. Alexandrea frowned and summoned a bit of air again to pull her, closing the distance faster. Gwen’s reaction was why she hid magic; it did not fit in the modern world. Her role was to fix things first. This was just another small step to that end.
“I’m sorry, Gwen. There is too much broken to set right. I can’t hide that something happened here, but I can minimize the damage.” She tapped Gwen’s shoulder, and her eyes closed.
Though she was asleep, Alexandrea kept talking, as if answering her. “It will be hard to explain why the store was empty. So we remain. It was a normal day until the gas line blew. It must have hit something else. I have been saying the building was in need of maintenance.”
She used some of the residual wind to help her move everyone to more logical positions. Chairs and tables for the patrons, and the counter for Trefor and Gwen.
“I will protect you as much as possible.”
She stood by a remnant of the counter, near Trefor and Gwen, making sure they wouldn’t fall into the hole, since they were closest to it.
And then she waited.
After the minutes of frantic activity, it was strange to sit still. Metal buzzed all over her body. Between keeping pressure on the sinkhole, the connection to the last man, and holding the others asleep, she was doing too much. Her torc twitched, the vibration helping her maintain the difficult psyche connection. They were more complicated than elemental shaping, and she was only a human with a handful of years in which to learn. Despite the frantic humming metals, she wished to close her eyes, but she needed to watch for the man.
The view was not too different from the one in her store, though the square looked changed. When had it become so busy? People moved from shop to shop, running errands. Groups stopped and spoke with friends by the columns that anchored the other buildings. She even spotted a cat stalking towards the ATM.
Before she could smile she spotted the man, phone in hand.
“I’m sorry,” Alexandrea said one last time. She withdrew her pressure from the hole and watched the store crumble and sink. Even as the gravity of the sinkhole dragged them in, she remained still.
Breathe. Deep breaths.
Not just for singing, but for calming. Only her fingers, finding new strength in wringing each other, betrayed her panic. She would not focus on the horror. She had to keep her mind on the people in the store, make sure they survived as well as possible.
Alexandrea remained stoic until her torc broke.
Pearls flew in every direction. Metal twisted out of control and a few strands pierced her skin.
She screamed until a structural beam hit her on the head, and she fell unconscious.
10
“Oi, Jamie-boy.”
“We’ve got ten more minutes, Dein.” Jamie slammed his locker shut.
Deiniol was a good partner for ambulance riding, though he tended to talk a bit much. It worked for Jamie at the moment, adjusting to this change in life, coming home. He had so much o
n his mind, it made him unusually thoughtful. Hopefully that would pass.
“Got a call. We need to leg it.” Deiniol shoved a radio in his face. Today’s dispatcher blared through the speaker. “—at Quarry Square. All hands. The buildings facing Barrow Lane have collapsed. Trefor Teashop and—”
“Bardic Tomes,” Jamie finished and his eyes shot wide. “Drea.” He grabbed Deiniol’s shoulder and bolted.
He had never faced her. After Rhys had been trounced out of Drea’s store and given him an earful, Jamie didn’t follow up. It was a bit unfair, not going in himself. For some reason it still hurt. Perhaps he had been looking for more than simple friendship with Drea again. But was a coward, and now Drea might die before he made things right.
“Oi, Jamie, get back here.” Deiniol’s voice stopped him. “I think the ambulance is still a tad faster than you.”
“Where did the first floor go?” Jamie jumped out of the ambulance the moment it stopped moving. They arrived at the far end of the square, not too far from the barricade. The structure had always been striking, the only patch of wood in a sea of stone. Now it looked like it was bowing to the pressure of the surrounding block; half the area sloped inward. The whole building had lost its top level, or maybe that was the top and the first floor was underneath the ground?
What could have caused this?
He jogged by milling people, giving them a cursory glance, but decided they were gawkers or worriers; no one from the stores.
Deiniol came beside him. “You want to dive in? They’ve looked the other way when you jumped the gun before, but they aren’t ready for us yet, Jamie.”
Jamie’s hands dug into the barricade. “I’m just looking.”
Closer now, he saw the ground angling down, giving the impression that the first floor wasn’t crushed. Still, his heart stopped. That bump-out window he’d stared at too much lately was shattered and half sunk. Though he’d never stepped into Bardic Tomes, he’d spent many an afternoon at Doc Morgan’s clinic learning how to fix others. What could fix this?
“Where’s the fire crew?”
“They’re probably waiting to see if it’ll sink more.”
Jamie ground his teeth. “But if they wait much longer, it could sink further.”
Deiniol shrugged. “How far down are they now?”
“I’m not waiting to find out.” Jamie jumped the barricade and dashed for the toppled building, ignoring Deiniol’s complaints.
A crack filled the air sending Jamie into a partial crouch. He squinted, and coughed as another section of wall crumbled. So much for Drea’s door. That bell would never announce someone’s presence again.
When nothing serious came his way, he continued.
Footsteps caught up to Jamie. A firm hand latched onto his arm. “Penderson. I can’t have you here, not yet.”
“Hey, Chief.” Jamie looked past the shield covering the man’s face. It was not the face of an old man ready to reprimand him. He was worried. “Have you got everyone out?”
“It doesn’t matter, son,” he said gravely. “That sinkhole came out of nowhere. We’re not sure the ground is safe.”
Jamie wrenched his arm away and took a single step. He glanced into the rubble of the bookstore. No one was there unless someone was hiding under the book piles. The cases lay on their side, but in a strange pattern given the direction of the tilt. The crew had probably checked there.
He studied the tea shop. Its destruction was a mirror of Bardic Tomes; whatever caused the collapse happened along their shared wall. The leftmost bit stood relatively untouched, leaning a tad. The shattered windows were the real hint something wasn’t right. They were also his way in.
Navigating the ground couldn’t be harder than a free climb, with nothing but the air to your back. At least there was plenty of stuff, and not so long a fall.
A glove touched him and Jamie skipped forward another step.
“Penderson, stand down. Your feckless shenanigans won’t help today. This is too delicate.”
“I won’t leave them.” He breathed hard, giving his muscles a few flexes before he’d need them.
“Jamie, I can’t tell—”
“And you can tell the families of those people?”
“We’re not sure if anyone is down there.”
Jamie raised a brow. “You’re telling me both those shops were closed? At midday?”
“That’s not the point, Penderson. You take one more step, and I will have you suspended.”
Jamie grinned. That just made the choice easier.
“Well, since I have some free time now, I’m just going to take a look-see.” Jamie pushed past the Chief before he could hold him back.
There was yelling, but no one grabbed him as he scampered towards the shop. Jamie braced against the edge of the tea shop's windows and sunk into a crouch. He took a moment to check it out, noting the jags of cut glass. He blew out a breath and pulled his arm within the thick sleeve of his jacket and punched out more of the glass.
Shards fell, giving him enough of a space to squeeze through. He shook out his arm, noting everything was okay. It wouldn’t do to injure himself before finding anyone. Now satisfied he wouldn’t gash his head, he peered in.
The shop’s collection of mismatched chairs and tables had mostly fallen in place and a bit of smoke lingered. Had something burnt in here as well? Still holding the frame, he pivoted in, giving his first footsteps a moment to rest, and judged no shift in the floor. What was left of the countertops, which shared the wall with Bardic Tomes, sagged. Much of the back counter was gone, maybe farther down the hole and out of sight already?
A brief flash of fear sped through Jamie’s mind, realizing the hole might be open. There was no obvious opening he could see, so it must be covered, at least for the moment. That said, was the shifting done? If the building materials hadn’t given the hole its fill, could he step on the wrong spot and fall in? He’d have to tread carefully. It wasn’t an open hole, but it could be just a thin board away.
Jamie pushed the useless thoughts aside and surveyed the shop some more. The right wall was gone, along with much of the original ceiling. Jamie looked up. Though, both roofs sagged together, it didn’t seem sturdy. Only a scorched woodpile remained, covered in building bibs and bobs, furniture and books. He could see into Drea’s store through gaps in the strewn wall. He wasn’t sure he chould make it over there.
It was mostly debris. Building materials now dirty and destroyed, covered everything. Jamie tapped the closest pile, getting a sense of it, and he shoved it aside, digging out the chair underneath. No one there.
Jamie repeated this jostle and shuffle, looking for folk beneath the furniture as he worked his way to the right. The farther in he went, the more a strange smell sunk into his nose. He hadn’t been in many wrecks, but he knew it wasn’t scorched wood.
Had something blown out of the walls in the wreck?
The smell wasn’t gas, but maybe.
He’d better hustle.
After replacing three chairs and a clear table, the tilt of the floor caught up with his balance. Jamie shuffled his feet along rather than lift them. He put his hands on a darker table—it didn’t rest flat on the ground. He knelt to the floor and lifted. A pair of panted legs were underneath.
“Hold on, sir.”
He finished hoisting the table and shifted a chair.
The man was in remarkable shape for lying on a sloped floor half covered in shop junk. He had a small gash on the head, and his dirty ruffled clothes were probably hiding more, but none of that would matter if he was dead. Was he breathing?
Jamie cursed; he’d forgotten his kit. He needed some idea of the man’s condition, besides whether he was alive. He dug into his pockets and crowed when he found a new pair of gloves. It was a start.
The man coughed, and his eyelids flew open.
Jamie exhaled. He must have imagined his stillness; he couldn’t see well with the limited light.
“Sir,” h
e said, “it’s going to be okay. Please, let me check your condition.”
“Why me?”
Jamie paused and put a hand on his shoulder. “It’s going to be okay. You’re in relatively good shape, considering. We’ll need to get you to the hospital to know for sure. Do you know how many other people were in here?”
The man’s eye’s twitched.
Maybe he wasn’t as well as Jamie thought.
“Too many. Strange people. No, no, just… another?” He closed his eyes. “I don’t know.”
“Thank you, sir.” Jamie resisted the urge to squeeze his hand. “Now, I’m going to get some help so we can get you out safely.”
He retreated the way he came and discovered his actions hadn’t been ignored. When he hollered for help, someone answered. Once he demonstrated his actions shifted nothing, two of the crew joined him. Together they were able to get the old man, Trefor, and another patron out.
No Drea.
They found Gwen last, babbling. He didn’t recognize her, she was such a sad sight. Her eyes continued to rove round, not focusing, as words fell out of her mouth. “I shouldn’t have stayed.”
“You couldn’t have known.” Jamie assured her as they lifted her out. “We’re getting you out of here, Gwen. You’re fine now.”
With the extra help came the right equipment, too. Jamie was grateful for the stretcher as they used it to get Gwen out as smoothly as possible.
Once they put her on the waiting gurney, Deiniol wheeled her towards the ambulance. Jamie swiveled out, but stared into the store. Maybe Drea wasn’t here. Or maybe she was too far… He shook his head. It was good he found these three, despite his “feckless shenanigans” as the chief put it. No phantoms haunted the folk either, which he took as a good sign, despite some of the miasma in the wreck itself. He could help, but he still couldn’t produce miracles.
“I was serving when it happened,” Gwen was saying.