Chapter 8 - Tidings of Fire - II

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  Rachel emerged into the clearing once more. She'd made a brief phone call to Will, letting him know what had happened and that she was okay. He'd detected the telltale traces of powerful Creation magic approaching her and sent the warning, though he had no more information to go on. The ground had ugly black stretches crisscrossing the entire circle, scorched moss and dirt where there had once been thick green grass.

  Cinza's group had congregated around their injured member. Rachel's blanket, which she had forgotten about in the chaos, had been snatched up and laid out, and the middle-aged man was twitching in pain atop it. His arm was a mess of weeping blisters and angry red skin, the sleeve of his shirt charred and blackened. It made a sharp contrast to the swathe of silver and grey cloaks surrounding them. Cinza herself was holding the man's arm firmly and pouring something over the wound from a bottle. He twitched violently at the rush of liquid, and Rachel moved in to help hold his legs steady.

  Cinza noticed Rachel's hands and shot her a grateful look before returning to the man. "You're going to be fine, Yusuf. Don't worry. We're all here for you. Ruby, please hold his shoulders."

  A girl with curly dark red hair and scars across her wrists knelt and held Yusuf down while Cinza reached into a bag and pulled out several cloth bandages. Rachel didn't know the girl, but from her appearance, she assumed Ruby was a runaway who had joined up with Cinza—most likely as a convenience. If she had stuck around through a fight like this though, she was a true believer... or perhaps just crazy.

  "Are those sterile?" Rachel asked, still holding his legs firm.

  "Yes," Cinza answered with a touch of irritation. "Morton, his arm." Another man with a sickly look on his face quickly took hold of Yusuf's arm, being careful not to touch the visibly throbbing burned area. Rachel caught herself from voicing her surprise aloud. Morton Pollock worked for the local newspaper, printing it and delivering it to the newsstands on Main Street and the local businesses that paid for copies. He was one of the last people Rachel had expected to see amongst Cinza's group.

  Cinza looked Yusuf in the eye with sympathy. "I have to do this before we can move you. Just hold on, okay?"

  Yusuf nodded, gritting his teeth. Cinza unwrapped the bandage and started wrapping his arm tightly. As the gauze made contact, he twisted in their grip. Rachel felt one of his legs slipping and tightened her grasp, looking away from his face. She tried to ignore the grunts of pain, imagining the expressions on his face even as she determinedly avoided seeing them herself. Rachel gritted her own teeth as the man cried out once more beneath them, trying to think of anything else besides the pain he was experiencing.

  Finally, it was over. Cinza stood up, packing away the bandages she had left. Two of her followers returned from the forest with strong sticks which they used to fashion into a makeshift stretcher with Rachel's blanket. Cinza glanced at Rachel once more as they hoisted it up.

  "It's fine. Please use it." Rachel waved them on. Cinza gave her another small, grateful nod before they set off. Rachel, seeing no particular reason to hang around in the clearing anymore, followed them at a respectful distance. Her mind was still replaying the images from the last few minutes over and over, a loop of terror and confusion that refused to end.

  Cinza's group held close together, thirteen in all including Yusuf and Cinza herself. A pair took the lead, scouting out the easiest path to take, while the main group formed a diamond around the two carrying the stretcher, their hands primed with all sorts of various reagents for spells. It was the most militant gathering of magic Rachel had ever seen, and it sent a chill through her bones.

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