Knez sprung up, grabbing a sword and the gemmed shield that were kept close to his bed. Seeing him armed, yet still dressed in a nightshirt was amusing, a notion Azandahy wouldn’t dare to say aloud.

“Let us be going,” told houselord.

When the two of them left the bedroom, Azytenisar’s three other bodyguards were already waiting in chambers outside. Five men crossed the living chambers, being urged to move faster by rising heat, crackling of fires somewhere just behind the wall, and the smoke which began creeping in.

Azandahy led the way, he swung doors leading to the stairs with a violent move and almost stepped into the hell behind. He stopped, his foot smashing into the floor as soon as it was raised to make a next step. Before him was a terrifying mess of collapsed stairway, bent support beams, all engulfed in raging conflagration. He smacked the door shut and turned to the party.

“We should find another way.”

They returned to the central chamber. Azytenisar pondered at the fact that there were no panicking serfes. Did they all escape already, leaving only him and bodyguards behind? Ulhon approached windows and, opening shutters, glanced outside.

“Four storeys high,” sighed he, “The residence no doubt looked majestic, but it is very impractical right now.”

“Someone will come,” proposed another bodyguard, “This is the house of knez. They will come to save our lord with ladders and such.”

With a troubled face Azandahy strode into bedroom, which was connected directly by doors. Everyone followed him with eyes except for lord of Abeneewy. He simply stood in the middle of the room and waited patiently. Not before long his bodyguard returned, just as he expected.

He dragged a construction made of a bedsheet, blanket, and a rug, which were bound with knots at the ends. The crewman neared the window, secured the improvised rope with a loop around the shutter and threw the rest outside.

“The fall will still hurt, but we won’t break our legs,” said he.

As if to prove himself, the warrior crawled out of the window and climbed down his motley rope. At the end of it he was till almost two storeys above the ground. Azandahy dropped down, making a roll forward instantly after his feet touched the ground. He got up the same moment and waved to other men who were observing him through windows. One by one the came down in the same manner, escaping the room which was now full of smoke and ready to be consumed by flames any moment.

The party left the courtyard and headed through the city. Everything around them was burning either brightly and spectacularly or dimly as it was already turned to cinders. Kinani men reached the crossing of three streets and met the first group of people thus far.

Countless civilians chaotically surged past, running for their lives, crying out for their lost kin, carrying various goods into safety. They pushed and kicked each other, trying to escape the fire first and foremost by themselves. There were also militiamen, trying to enforce some kind of order upon the crowd, saving weaker people from being trampled to death. They were not very successful at it. There was no sign of kinani other than the four of High Crew and houselord.

Azytenisar scanned the stampede with grim look.

“Give me the high ground,” ordered he his crewmen.

Two crewmen reacted immediately. One of the took out his shield and two warriors gripped it be opposite edges, holding it horizontally. Knez stepped upon bulwark and bodyguards raised it, elevating his master over the heads of the crowd. Azytenisar took out his sword and swung it up, pointing to the sky.

“I order you to stop and heed your knez!” he yelled. There was a power behind his voice besides loudness. Resolve was heard in it, as well as unquestionable authority. Those commands flew through the gathering of people, breaking through the noise of the flames and through the moaning of its victims as the keel of the sheep cuts through the waves. All the eyes were turned to him instantly. Dreavlyani calmed just enough to listen.

“Someone from militia report on the shortest and most secure path to the safety,” said lord of Abeneewy.

“It is down the Seraya road,” yelled drevlyani warriors and pointed his hand just there.

“Militiamen, heed me,” ordered Azytenisar, “Every twenty steps on the path towards the safety there should stand one of you, showing the way and making sure that people head there. The chain created that way should stretch from here and to the edge of the conflagration. Whoever is left free when the chain is created, should uphold order in the crowd. Women, children and elderly are to be allowed forward. Whatever grown man tries to force his way past and out is to be cut down where he stands with no mercy. Such are my orders.”

There was a pause, as if the crowd digested the words and then militiamen proceeded to perform knez’s will. Civilians followed them and the battering among them was now much less intense.

“Are there any measures taken to fight the flames?” asked houselord nearest militiaman.

The man did not answer, instead he glanced left and right nervously, ringing with his aventail. Azytenisar raised a brow. This very moment another dreavlyani warrior who was closeby reported.

“The Great Hunter Sumiaton leads the efforts outside the fire. Water hauling machines employed and also immense wet blankets which are put over houses so that the fire won’t touch them.”

The lord of Abeneewy nodded, but still he noted to himself the warrior who did not answer. His pauldrons had a bronze lining which glared when illuminated by flames. Not long after, the crowd was lessened by half, many of people already led to safety, That was when one of militia approached Azytenisar with a report.

“My lord,” told he with a voice which suggested fear, ”Firefighters report of a giant monster from the forest that approaches our position. It breaks down buildings in its path. A squad of militia tried to intercept it but was wiped out.”

Azytenisar allowed himself a moment of silent thought. Then he turned his head towards Azandahy.

“I won’t leave you there,” told him warrior, not waiting for his lord to speak.

“Your concerns for my safety are noted, but dismissed. My will is for you and Ulhon to take as many militia as you need and go stall that creature’s advance. If it reaches civilians, then there will be slaughter that we can not do anything about.”

“But my lord,” Azandahy was obviously frustrated, “Why me?”

“I do not like to send people to their death. And now only you two could survive the encounter, I believe.”

“My lord, listen,” the warrior did not give up, “As far as I can see, this whole catastrophe is but an assassination attempt. What about the stairs in your residence which were so conveniently destroyed? I won’t left you alone while someone wishes to end your life.”

“Now listen to me,” Azytenisar became visibly angry, “There is always someone who wishes to end my life. You are welcome to protect it just as long as I want you to. Now begone! Either go and do as I will or never return.”

Azandahy did not say anything else. He exhaled loudly and turned away. He strode through the crowd, pointing on the way for some of militia to follow him. Soon he, alongside Ulhon and a dozen of armed men disappeared behind the corner of the road.

Time passed, last civilians were led to safety and knez was left at the crossing with his two bodyguards and militiamen. Azytenisar, now standing on the ground, gazed in the direction where Azandahy headed. Flames still burned around them, perhaps not so mighty as they were in the beginning, yet still powerful as great red waves in the black storm. There was no sign of the party returning.

“We should head after them,” told he to drevlyani.

He began moving, yet no one except two crewmen followed his example. He looked at militia. They were standing there silently, all eyes fixed on him. He noticed the warrior which ignored his question earlier among first ranks.

Just now he saw disturbing signs: warriors stood in circle around him, in a manner that would not allow to step outside without moving one of them. Their postures were speaking of latent energy, their bodies being remarkably still, a calmness before the squall.

Azytenisar’s subconsciousness already made him lift his sword. His consciousness refused to acknowledge such an awful reality. The man with bronze lined pauldrons took and axe from his belt and stepped forward.

“I am sorry. You were not a bad ruler. I saw it today even more clearly,” told he in perfect kinani. All around him militia similarly unsheathed their weapons.

Azytenisar, lord of Abeneewy, knez of Khladnetz, silently cursed Azandahy for never being wrong.

Odwitchni forest was neither tranquil nor a beautiful place. He who knew how to listen, heard countless noises among its trees. He who knew what he heard, recognized ugly sounds of violence and death. Here a tiniest mouse was heading for its hole. It was not quiet enough to stay unnoticed. It would not see its home one more time, ambushed and crushed between the jaws of a coiling scaled predator.

There the serpent, now bloated with its devoured prize, slid through the grass. Hidden as it was, still it could not hide itself from the great pair of furry ears. And so its neck came between the fangs of a soft stepping graceful hunter, all its venom proving to be a meager defence.

The feline for all its skill and agility was not without fault either. Here it made a mistake of walking into the spot too open from above, a glade. But a moment was needed for the stalker of the skies to drop down and nail its talons into cat’s spine. A beak to the head ended its struggle for survival rather quickly.

The bird of prey did not win that day either. It falsely assumed its superiority, thinking that to soar in the sky is the answer to all dangers beneath. When it glided over the surface of water a stream struck it. The bird plummeted down and was caught by the maker of the watery missile. A maw most terrible rose from red waters, armored with thick scales, blinking with bulbous eyes, wide enough to swallow a boar whole. It would have been a worthy sea monster, if it ever found its way to the bigger waters. And so the endless chain continued, too long to be described in any book.

The splash produced by the spawn of the deep reached the shore and there landed upon a cheek of a man. The man was woken by it. Images of his last battle still flashed before his eyes, he tried jump to his feet and continue the fight. The attempt was not successful at all, but quite painful. He lied there, breathing fast, his mind finding ways to comprehend recent events. After a lot of excruciating efforts the man finally managed to sit. Then, after some time, he stood.

His body was damaged, awfully so. Yet he could walk. His armour was broken, dirty, partially lost, yet it still covered him. The world swayed before his eyes, yet less so as the time passed. He could see the stars. He could discern the direction to the west.

And so he walked. He left the shore and entered the forest which was neither tranquil nor beautiful. He headed west. While he was still alive, no matter what, he would be needed there.