The first claw punched through the bell chamber roof and hooked into the beam above Kaelen’s head.
Elora had the coal pan between them. She stopped with it held level, a scatter of red coals trembling in the shallow iron tray. Above, slate scraped against slate. The hooked claw flexed, breaking a strip of wood free.
“Back,” Kaelen said.
She took one step toward the bell’s stone pedestal. He caught the pan’s handle before it tipped and steadied it for her. A second claw came through beside the first.
The lower hatch groaned below them. The braces held, for now. The creatures had found another way up.
Kaelen looked from the split roof to the outer ring of the Pyre-Chime. Its dark metal shone faintly where heat seeped through the seams. The main bell hung above it, enormous and still. He could feel its weight through the floor, though it made no sound.
He had no intention of touching it.
“Get behind the pedestal,” he said. “Keep the coals.”
“What about you?”
“I’ll be here.”
The beam cracked. A section of slate slid inward, and a black shape forced its way through the opening. Its hide flaked against the wood. It felt no pain; the creature pulled itself forward even as splinters tore at it.
Kaelen grabbed the iron hook used to turn the furnace grate. He struck the creature’s wrist. The hook skidded off its charred hide. It did not even turn toward him. Its head angled toward the coal pan.
“Under the bell,” he said.
Elora shifted behind the pedestal. She held the pan out in front of her, keeping it between her body and the creature. Kaelen saw her eyes flick to the roof gap. Another set of claws scraped across the slates.
He stepped between her and the opening, then struck the wall with the iron hook. The sound drew the creature’s head toward him. Its fingers found the beam, and it hauled itself down into the chamber.
Kaelen backed toward the outer ring. The chamber was too close and too full of stone for a careless shockwave. He needed the creatures inside the ring’s reach, away from the stair and Elora. The first one dropped. A second pressed through the broken roof behind it.
The coal pan hissed as a flake of black hide landed among the embers.
“Kaelen.” Elora’s voice had gone thin. “It’s coming over the beam.”
He could see it. The first creature climbed down the inner wall, its head turning with each beat of his heart. The second was still wedged in the roof. It clawed at the timber, widening the hole.
Next
With Skahl-skin crossing the failed north fire line and an alarm sounding below, can Kaelen stop them without spending the main bell’s deeper toll?
He could ring now and hope the bell’s force reached both. Elora stood too close to the pedestal’s edge. He had seen what the Pyre-Chime did to bodies and stone. He would not put the shockwave through her because he had hurried.
“Stay low,” he said. “When I pull the ring, cover your ears and keep your face down.”
“I know.”
“Do it anyway.”
The first creature lunged. Kaelen swung the iron hook at its face. It struck him across the shoulder and sent him against the pedestal. Pain ran down his arm. The creature crawled over him, its hands seeking the heat beneath his coat.
Elora moved. She tipped the coal pan up, pouring a red spill across its back.
The coals caught in the creature’s brittle hide. It turned toward her, black flakes breaking from its shoulders. She dropped the empty pan and scrambled behind the pedestal. Kaelen got his feet beneath him.
The first creature reached for her. He caught its wrist with the hook and dragged it sideways, buying the breath it took her to get behind the bell. The second creature tore through the remaining roof slats and fell into the chamber.
Kaelen seized the outer ring’s striker.
He had used the ring for small assaults, each time expecting the cost to be slight. Each time something had gone. A face. A taste. A piece of a day with Elora. The main bell waited above him with its deeper price, and he could not measure how much the ring had already taken.
The first creature turned toward his heartbeat. The second rose, coals burning across its back. Elora crouched behind the pedestal, both hands over her ears.
Kaelen pulled.
The outer ring answered with a hard, low note. The sound struck the chamber like a physical blow. The creatures’ charred hides split and burst into black flakes. The one nearest him flew backward into the broken roof. The other collapsed beside the bell pedestal, its limbs breaking apart as the shockwave passed through it.
Then the note died.
The roof creaked. A slate dropped through the hole and shattered on the floor. Kaelen let go of the striker. His shoulder throbbed beneath his coat, and his hand remained closed around the iron as if he had forgotten how to open it.
Elora stood up slowly. A thin red mark crossed her cheek where a coal had caught her. He reached for her face, then stopped when she flinched from his burned fingers. He turned his hand and brushed the snowflake-sized ash from her cheek with his sleeve.
“Are you hurt?”
“No. It’s just hot.” She looked past him at the fallen creatures. “Did we get them all?”
He listened. The wind slipped through the roof hole. Below, the lower hatch shifted against its braces. No claws. No scraping on the stair.
“For now.”
He bent to pick up the coal pan. His thoughts had gone strangely smooth around one small place. He knew the ring had taken something. He could feel the shape of the missing space, the way he had felt it after the last toll, but there was no image inside it.
Elora watched him. “What did it take?”
“I don’t know yet.”
She looked down at the broken pan. “Last week I fell asleep on your lap while you fixed the coal basket.”
Kaelen kept still.
“You carried me upstairs,” she said. “I woke up when you put me in bed. You told me I weighed more than a sack of soot.”
He tried to reach for the moment. There was the coal basket, he supposed. He could picture its woven sides, could understand that he had repaired it. The rest remained blank. He had no memory of Elora asleep against him, or of carrying her through the tower.
He lowered his eyes to the pan. Its handle had bent. “I said that?”
“You did.” She rubbed the red mark on her cheek. “You were wrong. I don’t weigh as much as a sack of soot.”
“No.”
“You were tired. You leaned against the wall before you got me upstairs.”
He believed her. The words supplied a small scene, but it belonged to her now. Kaelen looked at her narrow shoulders and at the coat hanging too long on her arms. He wanted to ask if she had been frightened. He wanted to tell her he remembered carrying her, even if the memory would not come. Instead he took his own coat from the chair by the furnace and wrapped it around her.
She let him, then caught the torn sleeve where it had snagged on a splinter.
“It’s ripped,” she said.
“I know.”
“I can stitch that.”
“After we clear the roof.”
She nodded. Her fingers stayed on his sleeve a moment before she let go. She did not ask him to remember again.
Kaelen moved to the roof breach and looked up. A jagged opening showed the cobalt fog beyond the tower. More slate shifted at the edge, but nothing climbed through. He pushed a broken beam across the gap and wedged it against the inner wall. It would keep loose slate from falling. It would not hold a determined creature.
“Can you see the stair?” he asked.
Elora went to the landing and listened. “Nothing.”
“Stay here. Don’t go down.”
“I know.”
He checked the lower hatch from above, listening for any change in the pressure against the braces. Then he returned to the bell chamber. The dead creatures had begun to cool, their bodies shedding flakes that the wind drew through the roof opening. He swept the worst of them toward the wall with the iron hook. The Pyre-Chime’s outer ring glimmered faintly. He did not look up at the main bell.
Elora brought the bent pan over to him. She held it carefully, using both hands. He took it from her and set it beside the furnace.
The chamber settled. The tower groaned under the wind. For several breaths, the only sound was their breathing.
Then a distant orange glow vanished beyond the north roofs.
Kaelen turned toward the narrow window. The fire line had been visible through the snow haze, a broken seam of light along the edge of town. One bright point remained. Another went out. The last flame guttered low, then disappeared.
Elora came to the window beside him. “Was that the north line?”
“Yes.”
Beyond the roofs, shapes moved through the darkness where the fire had burned. Too many to count from the Spire. They crossed the line and scattered toward the town’s black-stone buildings.
Kaelen looked back at the Pyre-Chime. The outer ring had taken another piece of him. The main bell still held the greater cost. Below them, the north line was gone.
Elora took his hand, careful of the burns. He gripped hers once, then reached for the bell’s main striker.
The first alarm from the northern watch began below.