Fahmida's backroads led them to a popular market street in the village, which was usually bustling so early in the afternoon. There were only a few people there, mostly vendors, and all had a stricken look, like the entire village was suspended on eggshells over a pit of lava. The air was heavy with an acrid smell, like something was recently burnt.
The Sergeant glanced around breifly as she walked, moving briskly down the street, turning at an intersection and striding down a couple blocks. The smell getting heavier, and the number people on the streets increasing as they moved.
A wall of people blocked end of one block and the beginning of another street. Some were talking softly, others crying on another person or quietly to themselves, and most of those remaining were staring ahead shock and horror. Smoke curled above some of the partially collapsed buildings, one crashing to the ground with a wheezing crack. The street beyond, what could be seen beyond the throng of people, was ashen. Black wood, shingles and husks of buildings lined the street, the street itself was very dark and had jagged, jet black line in the very center.
Once Fahmida and Beatrid got to the crowd, the Sergeant looked over at the Mordecai and then back at the crowd. "Stand aside!" she ordered as she approached. "We're here from the castle!"
Those weren't as shaken looked back briefly and began to move aside, clearing a twisting path for the two of them to take.
