Warmoon [ONC 2020]•[Shortlisted]•[Honorable Mention List, Stunning Worlds]

12. Warning Bells

Rhoa hauled a new load of clay up the ramp, set it down at her workstation, took up her trowel, dabbed several large scoops of clay onto her mortar board, and began mudding again, letting the monotony of demanding physical labor dull her worry.  She worked steadily as the sun rose higher, taking the bite out of the cold and sending a soft glow through the shroud. 

By noon she had finished another full rotation around the tower and was surveying her work with a grim sense of achievement as she took a break to eat, when Sarrie came out into the bailey.

"Aunt Rhoa!"

There was a quaver of panic in her voice that sent a jolt of apprehension through Rhoa's middle. "I'm up here." She started down the ramp at a jog, careful to keep to the inside where the supports were closer. "What's the matter? Is it Uncle Phane?"

Sarrie's small face was white as a sheet, her blue eyes large. She stood in the lean-to, poised to run back into the Sifting Room when Rhoa pushed through the doorflap at the bottom of the shroud.

"It's Gran," Sarrie got out, her words strained and thin. "I can't get her up."

A new shot of fear twisted into a frigid lump in Rhoa's stomach as she ran across the bailey and followed Sarrie through the Sifting Room and up the stairs. Dodging around the kitchen table, Rhoa moved swiftly to where Gran lay on the hearthrug, dropping to her knees beside her. Gran was holding her arms against her chest, her whole body stiff, her muscles trembling, her eyes rolled back, her jaw shut tight.

"Did she hit her head when she fell?"

Sarrie was quiet.

Rhoa glanced at her. The girl was peering in through the doorway, trying very hard not to cry. "Sarrie, you did a good thing coming to find me. That was very smart. Now I need you to tell me what happened. Alright?"

"She came up from the storeroom," Sarrie whispered. "She was walking funny, like... like she'd been at the ale, and she couldn't talk right. She couldn't hold onto the honey jar, either, and then she fell right there." She pointed at the floor by the entrance to the dry cellar. "She was cold, so I pulled her over to the fire."

"She didn't hit her head?"

"I don't think so."

Rhoa sat back on her heels. Gran looked almost exactly like Phane without the fever from a sprak sting. "And she was just in the storeroom?" she asked, frowning. "Did she go anywhere else? Outside?"

"No. She made us some pasty peas, then went down to the cellar to get the honey for Uncle's sweet broth. She was upstairs with us until then."

Rhoa pursed her lips and eyed the door to the storeroom. How could the Rot have gotten into the cellar? It traveled over land, not underground. And if it was there, where else could it be?

Gran made a faint sound, then, and Rhoa bent to whisper fierce in her ear, "Gran, it's me. It's your girl. You need to fight. Please. I need you to fight."

For several seconds Gran lay still, barely breathing.

Sarrie let out a little sob when Gran moved, jerkily at first, reaching up with her left arm, her fingers fluttering and curling around Rhoa's hand on her cheek.

The sight of those bright-button eyes winking up at her brought a lump to Rhoa's throat. The Rot had not won the battle yet. The fit was beginning to pass, and Gran slowly relaxed, her scant chest rising and falling more easily beneath her cotehardie.

Shoving away the urge to sit down, curl up, and cry, Rhoa slipped one arm beneath Gran's shoulders and the other beneath her thighs, gathering her close and then lifting her like a child. She carried her up the back stairwell to Tettony's hospital on the second floor, sending Sarrie ahead to open the door to the sickroom.

She had just settled Gran into the cot next to Phane when the Ardusk Council bells began to toll.

Rhoa eased down onto the empty cot next to Gran, staring at the big arched windows that let light into the sickroom, holding her breath.

Clang. Clang-clang. Clang. Clang-clang. Clang.

The call to arms.

Orla burst in then, her beautiful face crumpled with worry. "You should go see what's going on. I'll stay with them."

With a groan, Rhoa leaned over, planted her elbows on her knees, and buried her face in her hands for a moment. Then she shoved herself to her feet and beckoned to Sarrie, crouching so she could be closer to eye-level. "I need you to be very brave right now. Alright? I'm going to go see what's going on. I need you to stay with Gran and Orla, and help keep Gran warm."

Sarrie nodded. "Just like before."

"Just like before," Rhoa whispered, smiling up at her.

Sarrie nodded again, then flung her arms around Rhoa's shoulders. Her somber, "Be careful," sounded much too old for a child of seven.

Rhoa gave her a reassuring squeeze and stood. "I will. I promise. Now go tell Gran a story. She loves your stories." Then she gave Orla a nod, and ducked out, crossing the landing into the Armory, hurrying through the second level of the Keep to the south tower, where she spiraled up the staircase to the south wall parapets.

She could hear the screams before she pushed the door open, wails of grief and pain drifting on the wind, rising from the village.

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