Free The Shadowed Throne by K. J. Taylor Page A

nothing humans could realistically do against a fire of this size. Around it, people were climbing on rooftops, desperately throwing buckets of water over thatch to stop it from going up. At least there didn’t seem to be much danger of the fire spreading—there was a decent amount of open space around the Temple that had managed to stop that. A few small patches had spread, though, and people were fighting those instead.
    The priestesses, many of them actually trembling with the shock, kept close to Saeddryn—silently asking for her protection and help.
    â€œWho did this?” she asked eventually.
    â€œBlasphemer,” the Bear priestess spat. “One of the Queen’s Amorani blackrobes. I caught her while we were escapin’.”
    â€œDid the Queen send her?” Saeddryn asked, very quietly.
    â€œNo,” the Crow priestess said at once. “She’d never be stupid enough. The blasphemer was a madwoman. She babbled on about how Gryphus made her do it, said he came down from the sky an’ commanded her.”
    â€œWhat she said doesn’t matter,” said Saeddryn. “We need to find out—”
    â€œNo-one lies that well,” the Crow priestess muttered. “No-one.”
    They stood in silence for a long time, too stunned to do much beyond try to comfort each other without words.
    Even Aenae looked shaken. He circled, like an anxious dog, keeping close to his human but obviously unsettled by the flames.
    Something crashed and broke inside the Temple, and the fire flared up briefly. Saeddryn jerked away in fright, her hand groping for support. Aenae was there at once, and she leant on him, pressing her face into his neck. “I can’t take this,” she whispered to him.
    Aenae stilled. “I will stop this,” he said. “Go to your friends.”
    Saeddryn moved away from him, proudly refusing the help of the other priestesses. Aenae took a few steps toward the fire before hesitating, bathed in its light. He was a handsome griffin, with his father’s black and silver mixed with his mother’s grey and autumn brown. His eyes, though, were an extraordinary silver-blue, narrowing against the glare from the fire.
    He stood very still, apparently thinking, and then prepared himself—subtly altering his stance to make himself firm and steady with his paws well on the ground. His wings lifted slightly and his tail twitched. Then, suddenly, it stopped.
    Aenae’s whole body became stock still, and a moment later he lifted his head, opened his beak wide, and unleashed his power.
    Blue light poured out of him in a torrent, forming a column like a concentrated jet of water. It punched straight through the Temple doors and into the heart of the inferno.
    For several long moments nothing changed. Aenae, unmoving, poured his strength into his magic, which continued to rush out of his beak and throat without slowing. The fire raged on.
    Then it faltered. Slowly at first, then faster and faster, the angry orange of it began to fade. The smoke thinned, and the flames licking around the windows receded. Above, the tower crumbled and came crashing down, but the fire that had consumed it had died down. When Aenae finally closed his beak and slumped onto his belly, the Temple was still burning—but only a little. The worst was over.
    Saeddryn finally dared to go to her partner’s side. “Aenae, are ye all right?”
    He turned a glazed eye toward her. “My own power. Great enough.” The eye closed.
    The Wolf priestess put a hand on Saeddryn’s shoulder. “He’s not . . . ?”
    â€œHe’s just resting. Leave him be.” Saeddryn looked up at the blackened shell of the Temple. “He’s saved it . . . or part of it. An’ we’ll rebuild it,” she added. She raised her voice. “We’ll rebuild it! Our Temple will come back, greater than ever before—I swear it on