The air inside the parameter boiled, crackling and hissing in fiery tongues. Time seemed to slow as Jacob walked under the shimmering ramparts, the heavy hood of his cloak drawn close to shield him from the heat, though he felt it sear his skin just the same. Most of the guards had already escaped in the chaos, their panicked gunfire crackling from the open desert, as if they thought their attacker might follow them there, as if they were the reason he’d come. The citadel materialized from dark threads of smoke, its iron door tarnished and dancing with muddy reflections of the firelight. He placed his hand flat on its surface, finding the metal warm and held firmly in place. A sliding bolt lock, heavy bar, impossible to break. Tilting his gaze to the narrow parapet at the top of the tower, he slipped the clasp on his cloak and let it fall, reaching up to find holds in the citadel’s rough stone. It was easily done, the old structure having suffered under the elements since the time of knights and holy wars, its walls wind-torn and crumbling.
