“Stay here, my queen!” Yelin ordered, racing for the flaps of the tent, and popping his head out to find the cause of the sudden noises.
Soldiers were running to their stations around the temporary camp they had established while the king was having his meeting with the Seynards.
Yelin felt his lungs tighten upon seeing the sky, alight in a spectacular array of fiery colours and clouds of smoke and ash, more brilliant than an Autumn sunset. Nothing about it looked natural. It was unlike anything he had ever seen before.
“What is it?! What’s happening?” Sirillia asked, eyes wide with fear.
Another explosion caused the ground to shake, like a tremendous crack of thunder. Yelin did not see what had caused it but caught a glimpse of a sudden flash of orange and white light followed by a rising cloud of debris far off in town.
“A catapult strike on the town, perhaps, sir?” a nearby soldier suggested.
“Are we attacking, sir? Shall we form up to march?” another asked.
“Is Tellersted under attack?” Sirillia gasped.
Isolated fires ignited in the town and the fields around them. Sprays of earth and debris appeared to be spitting up from the ground far off.
Then, the sky began to fall.
Yelin looked up in sheer horror, his soldiers around him captivated by the same sight. From the unnaturally billowing clouds came dozens of fireballs, streaking across the sky faster than any arrow.
Yelin shouted for Sirillia to get to cover as a blast went off nearby. A wall of blistering-hot air shot through the camp, blowing men off their feet, and ripping up tents and supply boxes as if they weighed nothing.
Yelin fell to the ground in a daze as hot embers and choking ash smothered his face.
“My queen!?” Yelin called out, waving his hands about to clear the smoke, and wiping the sweat from his brow as he tore open the tent’s flaps to check on Sirillia.
Luckily, the tent had remained pegged into the ground. Sirillia had managed to hide beneath the king’s stern wooden desk, visibly shaken.
“What is happening?! Are we under attack?” Sirillia cried.
“I don’t know, but we need to get ready to leave at once, my queen,” Yelin said, bending down and reaching a hand out to Sirillia. “Whatever is going on, we cannot stay here.”
Sweat trickled down Yelin’s large body inside his plated armour as Sirillia took his clammy hand and they ran from the tent.
The pair froze for a moment, in awe at the scene around them. Flaming rocks fell from the sky. The wattle and daub rowhouses and tiled roofs of Tellersted in the distance were crumbling from the barrage of impacts. Dozens of fires were breaking out. The Blacktree soldiers were frantically putting out their own fires and establishing a perimeter around the camp.
A smaller rock fell from the sky and struck a soldier nearby, piercing his helmet like it was nothing. His head caved in. Blood and brains splattered at Yelin’s feet, the soldier’s limp body collapsing with an enormous, open cavity left where his face had once been.
From the edge of Tellersted, peasants were fleeing in all directions away from town.
“What do we do?” Sirillia said. “We have to get Emery and Petir!”
“My queen, we cannot enter Tellersted right now. The king and prince will be back any minute, I assure you,” Yelin urged, keeping his hand firmly around the queen’s lanky arm to keep her from running for her family.
Another fireball screamed as it flew over them, a trail of billowing smoke chasing behind it.
Sirillia pulled at Yelin’s grip to try and run for the town in an act of motherly instinct, but Yelin knew he needed to protect the queen at all costs.
“Please, we need to help them!”
“Let’s find you a horse, my queen. We need to be ready to leave at once. It is too dangerous to go into town.”
“My husband… my son!”
Then, from the eastern side of Tellersted, out of the crumbling facades and debris-strewn streets, came a small contingent of mounted men at full gallop. Yelin breathed a sigh of relief upon seeing it was the king and Baron Artima Lowe with their guards.
A ball of flame struck right next to the mounted group, directly into the Two Horns Inn. The wood and brick structure exploded in a brilliant display of flame and shattered material.
The king and his men ducked to narrowly avoid the blast. Debris rocketed out in all directions as a cloud of fire shot high into the air. The seared bodies of the people inside were flung onto the adjacent street.
One of the king’s guards was hit by a flying timber board and knocked off his horse with great force, killing him instantly.
“Emery!” Sirillia shouted in both relief and panic as the group rode into their camp.
Emery leaped off his horse, grabbing his wife in a long hug as she cried into his arms.
“My king, we need to leave at once. We are in great danger,” Yelin said.
He hated to interrupt their tender moment, but he knew that in the moment, every second mattered. He had a job to do- protect the royal family.
Another flaming rock smashed into a horse-drawn carriage. The horse panicked, barging through a group of men as it tried fleeing the sudden heat.
Emery let his wife go and looked to his trusted guard. “Where is Petir? Has he made it back here yet?”
“Not that I’m aware of,” Yelin said, shaking his head.
Emery spun back to look at the burning town of Tellersted as it bore the brunt of the continuous onslaught of falling stars. Far away, fleeing residents were wailing as their homes collapsed around them and their streets burned.
“My king?” Artima said, still atop
