Thunder? Pyre swung open the cart door. The sky was cloudless. There was another boom. To the west a rim of orange light raced along the horizon. Resen stopped the cart and jumped down. Pyre scrambled outside. A third explosion knocked Pyre off his feet. He tumbled into the tall grass. To the east Pyre saw another band of fire. He asked, “What is going on?”

In a low voice Resen said, “I don’t know.”

Renate came out of the cart holding a candle. She sniffed the air and then cursed. “It is Angs, he is in the Council City. You must go back, Fand’s life is in danger.” Before Pyre or Resen could speak, they were flying through the darkness of Transferrance. The cold of it turned to heat as they landed outside the Council City wall. The gates had been breached. Resen and Pyre stepped into the city. A roar of anger and the light of burning buildings cast everything in nightmare shades. Guards on horse and foot struggled against each other wielding swords, spears and some were wielding magic. Magic was not used for combat, Guards did not have the ability to do so, at least that is what Pyre had been taught. It had been a lie, another lie.

Women screamed, men cursed. The smell of sweat, blood and smoke filled the air. There was a strange whirring sound above.Pyre looked up. A huge blue wheel of light was spinning in the sky. A point of yellow light was at its center. Because of the smoke, he was unable to see clearly just what the thing was. The flames sizzled as fire leapt from rooftop to rooftop. Resen grabbed hold of his arm and propelled him forward. He hissed, “Stay close. We mustn’t get separated.”

The Pathfinder followed the outer edges of the street. He kept in the shadows. The heat of the fire grew more intense as they neared the Inner Sanctum. There was a loud crash as great beams fell. Sparks sprayed into the night sky. The Inner Sanctum's roof collapsed. Pyre could hear screams coming from within. The double doors were closed. Guards were trying to open them, but were unable to. Around the inferno mangled bodies littered the street. All at once he felt the nearness of Fand. Was she among these broken bodies? He prayed not, still his eyes anxiously scanned the area. To his left he saw a woman's body. Her left arm was twisted beneath her. Her hair was all singed and steam or smoke rose from her. He cut and run, trampling over bodies to reach this one body. She still had her limbs but her naked body was covered in blood. Gently, he turned her head. The instant he made contact with her skin, time seemed to stop. It was as if he could hear his own heart beating despite the chaos all around him. When he looked down at her face, fire illumined her features. It was Fand! Keeper it was her! She didn’t seem to be breathing. He called out, “Resen!”

Behind him he heard the Pathfinder’s approach but he did not turn from Fand. Beside him Resen dropped to his knees and pushed Pyre away. He put his head on her chest to listen and instantly he jerked away. A sticky blob of something dangled from his cheek. With a swipe of his left arm he flicked it away. The smell of rotting flesh broke through Pyre’s shock. Fand’s bare body was covered in burns and strange gray blobs.

Resen said, “We’ve got to get her out of here! Even if her heart is beating I won’t be able to hear it for the noise. If she's breathing it is just barely. I am afraid if we try to Transfer her the cold and movement might stop her heart.”

Aware that she might already be dead, Pyre could not speak. Desperately he prayed, Please let her be alive! Please! The roar of the battle was all around them, but Pyre did not notice. All he could see was Fand.

A horse clattered by. Resen stood and said, "Our only choice is to take her to the Infirmary. If it isn't on fire too." With one hard yank, Resen pulled off his tunic and coat. Gently, he eased the coat beneath Fand and covered her body with his tunic. He told Pyre, “Grab hold of that end. Keep the fabric taut. Her back might be broken. When I say three, lift.” Pyre knelt and took the bottom corners of the coat. Resen counted and they lifted her in unison. Pyre walked backwards guided by Resen toward the Infirmary. As they dodged the fighting Guards, Pyre felt the warmth of Fand’s blood seeping into his robe. If her blood was still warm that meant she was still alive didn’t it?

They passed a woman crouched in the street wailing. In her arms was a lifeless Guard. Pyre felt his stomach turn. He glanced up at the sky. The blue circle of light was gone. Only the moon remained cold, whole and distant.

Loren Uhr met them at the Infirmary doors. He said, “Bring her this way, Resen.”

These two knew each other?

Loren led them to Dr. Kran’s office. The wall behind the doctor’s desk shot open revealing a narrow room completely tiled in some peculiar black stone. There was a cot and table inside. On the table was a basin, tongs, a bowl of some liquid with a rag in it and small pot of salve. It was if, Loren had anticipated this nightmare. Pyre and Resen lay Fand on the cot. In the small space the stench of rotting flesh was overwhelming. Loren placed a silver horn to her chest. He put his ear to it. He said, “Her heart is still beating but it is weak." He picked up the tongs and handed them to Pyre, “You must get Angs flesh off of her.”

Those blobs on her were Angs flesh? His remains! Pyre was horrified.

Matter of factly, Loren continued, “It is very acidic and it is burning her. Be careful not to touch it. Put it in the basin. When you are done, gently wash her with this liquid and then put this salve on her wounds. It will ease and heal them.” To Resen he said, “Put pressure on her left wrist. We’ve got to get the bleeding to stop.”

Pyre looked down at Fand's left hand. All her fingers and part of her palm had been blown off. Quickly, he looked away. He picked up the tongs and began to remove the bits of sticky gray matter from her body. How many times had he dreamed or lusted after this body? To see her like this broke something inside of him. If she lived, he would never look at her the same. Each piece of Angs he removed left a burn mark on Fand's skin. For the rest of her life she would be tattooed by this demon. When the last of Angs was extracted, Pyre took the rag and gently washed away the residue of Angs from Fand’s body. All the while tears slipped down his face. Next he plunged his fingers into the green salve. It was the same stuff Renate had given him to put on Uncle Wert. The instant his finger tips made contact with Fand's skin, he felt her fading vitality. She must not die. She must not!

With deep concentration Loren worked with her hand. Pyre dare not look at it. He kept his mind focused on his task. Finally, Loren said, "The blood flow has stopped." Still, Pyre did not look. He kept his eyes focused on Fand's face. Suddenly, her nostrils flared and she sucked in a breath of air. She was alive, at least right now, she was alive! Loren covered her with a white blanket.

The door swung open. Dr. Kran entered the room. He listened to Fand's heart and then examined her hand. He shook his head. "This is bad. We must do all in our power to keep it from getting infected. But first we must let the blood dry and seal it." He turned to Pyre. "You are a part of Fand. She needs to hear your voice. So, please, speak to her out loud, pray for her. The sound of your voice may give her the strength she needs to fight for her life, because she must fight. She must want to live."

"Yes, Sir."

Dr. Kran said, "Loren, Resen, we need you outside."

Fiercely, The Pathfinder said, "I won't leave her."

The tone of Resen's voice sent alarms off in Pyre's head. He glanced at the Pathfinder. The look on his face spoke plainly of his feelings for Fand. Resen loved her. What had passed between he and Fand as they had run from Angs? Did she love him?

Dr. Kran’s eyes narrowed. "Resen, you took an oath to help those in need. There is nothing you can do for Fand now. Others, though, do need your help. So come.”

Resen's face turned an angry red, but he did not protest again. He followed Dr. Kran and Loren out of the room.

After they had closed the door, Pyre knelt beside Fand. He took her right wrist and felt her pulse. It was so weak. He laced his fingers through hers. They were so cold. In her ear, he whispered, "Fand, its Pyre, please come back to me. Please. We need you here. Uncle Wert is safe. He needs you. We need you." His mind became a jumble and he could not think what else to say. All he could do was stare at her face which was covered in the green salve. Into his mind a healing prayer slipped. He latched onto it and began to pray out loud. Half way through the second prayer his voice faltered, and then broke. How fragile she was. So close to death. She must not die! She must not!

All he could do was pray, pray for her out loud. It might not be enough but it was all that he could do. Aloud he prayed. He throat was choked with tears but still he prayed. The warmth of his hand warmed hers. His tears plopped on her blanket like stray drops of rain. Every prayer he had ever learned or heard, he spoke to her, for her. Was the Keeper listening? Though the Keeper might forget him, he prayed the Keeper did not forget Fand.