Chapter 94: Smoke, Chaos and Broken Screams
The dragon fire created a wave of red and wind, that swept the field and road, hit Neville on the chest, tore him from the ground. Even Vivianne was blown off her feet, back into Chambert.
The world was a hurricane. Ashes in the sky, ashes on the ground, whirling and whirling, Neville’s body rolling like a dry leaf, farther and farther away from Pierre, who had been smashed by fire.
When everything was quiet again, it hurt to breathe. Nevile pushed the ground with his hand. He felt as though his body was fixed in space and that, to stand, he had to push the world away from him. His arms failed, the world glued itself to his chest again, crushing the air out of his lungs. Neville pushed again, folded a leg under his body, raised slowly to his knees, then to his feet, using the black bow for support.
The eastern wall and half of Tuen were smoke. The other half was chaos and broken screams. The fire waterfall that had smashed Pierre still burned in circles, a lazy, red tornado. Sudeenly, it was gone, like a candle someone blows. The circles went on in ashes.
In the middle of the carbonized circle, blurred by smoke, there was an old man with enthropic hair, very yellow eyes, and Pierre in his arms.
‘I found you,’ said Fregósbor.