Chapter 9: The Burning Barn
The fire had already taken half the street by the time Niek and Ghin reached the outskirts.
Niek's lungs burned with every breath, thick smoke curling around them like a living thing. The old barn rose ahead of them, dark and silent against the orange glow of the burning buildings behind it. A miracle it hadn't caught yet. A miracle that felt fragile, temporary, like everything else tonight.
"Two of them," Ghin said, his voice low. He'd stopped at the corner of a collapsed butcher's shop, peering around the edge. "Outside the barn doors. One's carrying a torch."
Niek pressed himself against the splintered wood, his heart doing something ugly in his chest. "Any others?"
"Can't see any." Ghin's jaw tightened. "Doesn't mean they're not there."
Niek risked a look. Two figures stood in the open space before the barn, their black armor drinking the firelight. The one holding the torch was tall, broad-shouldered, his horned helmet tucked under his arm. His companion was leaner, standing with the casual ease of someone who'd already decided how this would end. They were talking, laughing about something, their voices carrying across the distance.
"Food stores," Niek whispered. "They're going to burn the food stores."
"Not if I can help it."
Niek looked at Ghin. The young soldier was watching the two Tenestris soldiers with an expression Niek hadn't seen before—not fear, not hesitation, but something colder. Calculating.
"There's no way past them," Niek said, hating how the words tasted. "We're two men with a dagger and a staff, going up against trained killers in full armor."
"Then we don't go past them."
"What?"
Ghin turned to him, and there was something almost gentle about his smile. "You're going to get her out of that barn, Niek. That's your job. Mine is making sure those two stay busy long enough for you to do it."
"You're talking about sacrifice."
"I'm talking about math." Ghin's voice was steady, horrifyingly calm. "There's one of me and two of them. That's a fair trade for a woman's life."
"Healer," Niek said, grabbing his arm. "Don't do this."
"Someone has to." Ghin pried Niek's fingers from his sleeve. "Briv asked me to get her out. He trusted me. I'm not going to break that trust because I was too scared to do what needed doing."
The younger soldier was already moving before Niek could respond, stepping out from behind the butcher's shop and into the open. His boots crunched against the scattered debris. The two Tenestris soldiers noticed him immediately.
"Well, well," the one with the torch said. "What do we have here?"
Ghin didn't stop walking. He made it ten paces from the soldiers, close enough to see the violet glow in their eyes clearly, and planted his feet. His stance was wide, balanced, despite the wooden leg that replaced his right limb below the knee.
"Gentlemen," he said, his voice carrying. "I'm sorry to interrupt your little arson party, but I'm going to have to ask you to move along."
The lean soldier laughed. It was a cold sound. "Move along? That's rich."
"Don't you know who I am?" Ghin's grin was broad, reckless. "I'm the one who's going to kick both your asses back to whatever void you crawled out of."
"You're the one standing in front of two armed Tenestris soldiers with nothing but a wooden leg and a death wish."
"That's not all I have." Ghin's hand went to his sword—a short, practical blade, far less impressive than the curved weapons the invaders carried. "I've got charm. Wit. A devastating smile."
"Shame about the leg, though."
Ghin's grin didn't waver. "It's a good leg. Solid craftsmanship. Better than those cheap boots you're wearing."
The torch-bearing soldier stepped forward, his eyes narrowing. "You're a funny man. I like funny men. They always die with the best expressions on their faces."
"Then you're going to love me."
Behind him, Niek was moving. He stayed low, crawling through the shadow of the butcher's shop, keeping to the dark where the firelight couldn't reach. His hands were shaking. His heart was hammering. He could hear Ghin's voice, loud and confident, drawing the soldiers' attention.
"Seriously though, your armor is tragic. Who forged that? A blind child with a hangover? The rivets are uneven and the pauldrons are crooked."
"Careful," the lean soldier said. "Keep running your mouth and you'll find yourself missing more than a leg."
"Missing? I'm not missing anything. I'm just... selectively equipped." Ghin's laugh was easy, natural. "Besides, I like to think of it as a conversation piece. People see me coming and they want to know the story. You know how it goes."
"What happened to it?"
"War." Ghin spat on the ground. "A fight against a group just like you. They didn't ask questions either. They just cut." His expression shifted, losing some of its humor. "I've been waiting a long time to pay that back."
"Then this is your lucky night." The lean soldier drew his sword, the blade hissing against its sheath. "We'll give you exactly what you're looking for."
"Good." Ghin drew his own weapon, holding it low. "Just make it quick, yeah? I've got places to be."
It was Niek who understood first.
Not the soldiers—they just laughed at the joke, mocking the man's apparent desperation. But Niek saw the way Ghin's eyes flicked to the barn door, the way his words slowed slightly on the word "quick."
He's buying me time.
Niek crawled faster, reaching the corner of the barn. The wood was dry, weathered, full of gaps. He pressed his eye to a crack and saw nothing but darkness inside. Chiara was in there somewhere, injured, alone, waiting for help that might not come.
"You're a patient man," Ghin was saying. "I respect that. Takes a lot of discipline to be this ugly."
"Mock me all you want. It won't change what happens next."
"It might make me feel better, though."
The lean soldier lunged.
Ghin twisted, his wooden leg pivoting, and the sword whistled past his chest. He brought his own blade around, catching the soldier's armor with a shower of sparks. The tall one with the torch was moving now, circling wide to cut off any escape.
"Look at him dance," the tall one said, chuckling. "Like a puppet on a string."
"Fuck you," Ghin spat.
"Mm, feisty. I like that." The tall soldier closed in, his torch held low, the flames guttering in the wind. "Maybe I'll keep your other leg as a trophy."
Ghin backed up, his eyes darting between them. He was outnumbered, outmatched, and he knew it. But he kept smiling, kept talking, kept the attention locked on himself.
Niek slipped through the barn door.
Darkness swallowed him. It was cold, musty, the air thick with the smell of hay and dust and something faintly animal. He moved slowly, his hands outstretched, his feet careful, listening for any sound that might tell him where she was hiding.
Outside, metal clashed against metal. Ghin grunted.
"Chiara," Niek hissed, barely audible. "Chiara, it's Niek. Where are you?"
Silence.
He moved deeper into the barn, past stacks of hay bales, past an overturned cart, past the remnants of a broken plow. His foot caught something, sending a soft clatter through the dark, and he froze.
"Chiara?"
Another clash outside. This time, there was a cry of pain.
Niek's chest tightened. He wanted to go back, wanted to help Ghin, but he couldn't. He couldn't.
"There you go," he heard Ghin say, his voice strained. "That's it. Come on."
"Finish him," the lean soldier said.
"Don't rush me. I want to enjoy this."
Niek pushed deeper into the barn, searching desperately. The far corner was piled high with moldering hay, a dark space where someone could easily hide. He moved toward it, his hands stretched out, his heart pounding against his ribs.
"Chiara, please—"
His fingers brushed against cold wood. A crate. The hay had been pulled aside, revealing a gap between the crate and the wall. Niek dropped to his knees, peering into the darkness.
Nothing.
He reached inside, feeling along the cold earth floor, finding nothing but dust and the dried remnants of old straw. There was blood—he could smell it, copper and iron, fresh and sharp—but no warmth, no breath, no body.
She's gone.
The realization hit him like a blow. He spun around, his eyes searching the darkness, but there was nothing. She'd been here—the blood fresh on the floor where he'd left her—but she'd moved. She'd crawled away, or she'd been taken, or—
The sound of fighting outside stopped.
Niek froze.
For a moment, the world was silent. No clashing metal. No grunting. No voices. The fire still crackled in the distance, the crowds still screamed in the city, but in the space around the barn, there was nothing.
He heard footsteps. Slow, deliberate, moving toward the barn door.
"I know you're in there," a voice called out. Deep, cold, amused. "Don't make this harder than it has to be."
Niek pressed himself against the crate, trying to make himself small. His heart was beating so hard he was sure they could hear it.
"Come out, come out, wherever you are."
The barn door creaked open.
Niek looked through the shadows, through the fallen hay, and saw it: a single eye, glowing violet, staring through the gap. It moved slowly, scanning the darkness, and Niek felt the weight of that gaze like a hand around his throat.
He'd seen something like that once before, in the old drawings in his books—faces of the Tenestris soldiers, their eyes burning with the power of their dark masters. But seeing it in a book felt different. Seeing it here, looking at him, was something else entirely.
"Gotcha."
The door swung open wide, and the two soldiers stepped inside.
The lean one moved faster than Niek could react, grabbing him by the collar and hauling him out of the barn. He stumbled, fell to his knees in the dirt, and looked up to see the world spinning around him.
"Please," he gasped, his voice cracking. "I'm a healer. I'm not a threat. I'm just—"
"Just a little man in a big coat," the tall soldier said, peering down at him. "What are you doing crawling around in there?"
"I was looking for someone. A patient. I thought—I thought she might be hurt—"
"A patient?" The lean soldier's lips curled. "In a barn? In the middle of a war?"
Niek's mind was racing, grasping for anything that might work. He looked past them, saw Ghin's body sprawled on the ground, motionless. Blood pooled beneath him, black in the firelight.
He's dead. They killed him.
"Niek?" The voice was sharp, demanding. The lean soldier had him by the chin, forcing his head up. "What's in the barn?"
"Nothing," Niek said. "Nothing important."
"You're lying."
"Food," Niek said quickly. "It's a food storage. Grain, dried meat, water. Supplies. I was just trying to—"
"There's blood inside," the tall soldier said. "Fresh blood. You expect us to believe that's from a supply run?"
Niek's throat closed around the words. He looked down at his own hands, expecting to see them covered in red, but they were clean. The blood in the barn—Chiara's blood—was still inside.
"I'm going to ask you once more," the lean soldier said, crouching down to meet his eyes. "Who's in the barn?"
"N-no one. I already told you—"
"Wrong answer."
The tall soldier raised his hand, and Niek flinched, expecting a blow. Instead, he just laughed, turning to his companion.
"Grim always said you southerners couldn't hold your nerve," he said. "Looks like he was right."
The name hit Niek like a physical blow. His heart stopped, his blood turned to ice, and for a moment, the world tilted around him.
Grim.
No. It couldn't be. It had been years. Decades. He'd buried that name, buried everything connected to it, and here it was, rising from the ashes like a nightmare come back to life.
"Wait," he said, his voice shaking from the weight of it. "You—you know Grim?"
The two soldiers exchanged a look.
"You've heard the name," the lean one said, his tone suddenly sharper.
"I—yes. I mean—" Niek swallowed hard, his mind scrambling to find an angle, any angle, that might keep them talking. "If that's who's in charge, I... I have information. Valuable information. The person hiding in that barn—she's not just a civilian."
"She's a hostage?"
"She's more valuable than you can imagine."
The tall soldier's eyes narrowed. "Explain."
"She's a city official's daughter. Connected to the council. If you take her alive, you can use her. Trade her. Get answers." The words were spilling out now, tumbling over each other as Niek desperately tried to buy Chiara more time. "Her name is Chiara. Chiara Namory. She's known to the Bolgrey family. She's—"
"Namory?" The lean soldier frowned, considering. "Doesn't ring a bell."
"Please," Niek said, hating himself for begging. "Please, just—just take her. Take us. Use us as leverage. I'm a healer—I have skills—I can be useful—"
"Your usefulness is not in question," the tall soldier said slowly. "But I'm wondering why you care so much about this woman. A healer doesn't risk his life for a random hostage."
"Because—"
"Unless she's something more to you. A lover, maybe. A relative." The lean soldier crouched down, his violet eyes boring into Niek's. "Tell me the truth, little healer. Who is she to you?"
"She's... she's the sister of a friend. I promised him I'd get her out. I gave my word."
"Your word." The soldier laughed. "You gave your word to a dead man?"
"He's not dead."
"He will be." The tall soldier stepped back, his hand going to his sword. "Just like you."
"No—please—please, I can—"
"Enough."
The torch was thrown before Niek could react. It arced through the air, spinning end over end, and landed in the pile of dry hay just inside the barn doors. There was a sound like a long inhale—and then the flames erupted, roaring up the walls, consuming everything in their path.
"NO!"
Niek lunged for the door, his legs pumping, his arms outstretched, his voice screaming her name. He forgot about the soldiers, forgot about the pain, forgot about everything except the woman inside, the promise he'd meant to keep.
"I said ENOUGH."
Something cold and sharp drove into his back.
Niek felt the impact more than he heard it—a pressure, a tearing, a shock of pain so intense it stole the breath from his lungs and replaced it with fire. He stumbled, fell, his hands hitting the ground as the world swam around him. He tried to push himself up, but his arms wouldn't hold him.
He crawled.
One hand, then the other, dragging himself across the dirt toward the burning barn. The heat was unbearable now, the flames crackling and hissing, throwing sparks into the night sky. He couldn't see anything but fire, surrounded by it, consumed by it.
"She's in there," he heard himself say, his voice barely a whisper. "She's still in there. Please."
"Let her burn," the tall soldier said, his voice distant and unconcerned. "She means nothing to us."
Niek's fingers clawed at the earth, dragging him forward. He could smell his own blood now, mixing with the smoke. Could feel his strength leaving him with every beat of his heart.
He reached the barn door—or almost did. His hand came up short, trembling, the heat so intense it blistered his skin.
"Chiara," he managed, his voice cracking.
The flames were a wall in front of him, unbroken, unforgiving. He looked past them, searching for any sign of movement in the inferno, but there was only death there. Only the hungry fire, eating everything it found.
He had failed.
Niek collapsed, his body hitting the ground as the barn came apart behind him, timbers crashing down in a shower of embers and sparks. He lay there, looking back at the distant shape of Ghin's body, the two of them broken and bleeding in the dirt as the world burned around them.
"Should we finish him?" the lean soldier asked.
"Nah," the tall one said. "Let him watch. Let him understand what happens to people who resist."
Their footsteps faded away, leaving Niek alone with the flames.