David Dalglish - The Shadows of Grace

The knight crossed his arms and looked to his trusted retainers at his side.

“If they have that many men on horses, the chipped hills will be our doom,” one said. “Perhaps we can move northwest while we scout out their strength.”

“You must hurry,” Aurelia said. “The Green Castle is not far. Time is not your friend.”

Sir Kull drew his sword and saluted them.

“I don’t know your reasons, nor if you speak truth. If you do, I owe you greatly. If not…we will meet again.”

He turned and left, the soldiers returning with him. The three Eschaton remained alone on the outskirts of the camp, watched from afar by a ring of soldiers obviously there to keep an eye on them.

“So what did we just accomplish?” Harruq asked.

“The further northwest they move, the closer to the orcs and the Bone Ditch they’ll be,” Aurelia said. “Lord Sully will have to give chase. If we can get them to see the destruction the orcs have spread, perhaps our words will turn from rumors to truth.”

After giving Seleven a few more minutes to rest and drink from a nearby stream, the three mounted and soared into the air.

“Where to now?” Harruq asked.

“We’ll need to slow Lord Sully down to give them time,” Aurelia explained.

“Awesome,” Harruq said. “Do I finally get to hit something with my swords?”

“No,” Aurelia shouted.

Harruq sighed.

L ord Sully’s knights rode ahead of the main army but not far. The Eschaton watched the process from atop a nearby hill, Aurelia’s keen eyes seeing more than the rest.

“He’s too cautious,” Haern said. “If he’d abandoned the footmen and rode straight for Kull's camp, they’d overrun them with hardly a sweat. Instead they wait for the slower group of soldiers and lose much of their advantage.”

“Richard thinks Sir Kull is coming toward him, not away,” Aurelia said. “Now to make sure their travel is far from pleasant.”

Aurelia closed her eyes and lifted her hands to the heavens.

“Don’t disturb me,” she said. “And stay back. There might be a bit more lightning than I expect.”

Harruq and Haern shared a look and retreated to the bottom of the hill. High above Aurelia, the dim gray coiling of clouds slowly turned. A great wind howled from the east, bursting with sudden life. White light shone from Aurelia’s fingertips, then spread to her palms. The wind swirled around her, teasing her dress and lifting her hair. The clouds grumbled angrily, deepening to an ugly black.

Thunder roared. In the deep cold, the sound was ominous and unwelcome. The minutes passed, the wind quickened, and soon the sky was a dark curtain. With slow, careful motions, Aurelia pointed her fingers west. Magic flared out of her. The clouds rolled with the wind, lightning crackling in their center. The heavens rumbled, and freezing rain began to fall. It covered the grass, taking only seconds before turning to ice. Harruq crossed his arms and shivered, glad they’d been spared the brunt of the weather. When the rain reached the troops, Aurelia slowly relaxed and let her hands fall to her sides. Harruq trudged up the hill toward her, Haern trailing.

“They’ll find the going miserable in the cold and ice,” Aurelia said. “The rain will follow them for only an hour, but they’ll need to build fires to banish the chill, as well as remove the ice from their armor and supplies.”

She tottered a little, but Harruq caught her in his arms. The elf pressed her fingers to her temples and patiently breathed in and out.

“You going to be all right?” he asked her.

“I’m fine,” she said. “Just get us into the air. We’ll find someplace further away to rest, then figure out just what Sir Kull will run into when he flees north.”

Harruq helped her atop Seleven, then sat behind her. Haern curled his cloaks about himself and leaped atop the horse’s back.

“Be glad when this damn winter is over,” he muttered.

They flew low to the ground, following the flat spaces between the hills, which Aurelia felt a likely guide for Sir Kull’s movements. As they travelled north, the hint of smoke lined the horizon.

“An army?” Harruq asked.

Aurelia shook her head, her face grim.

“I fear worse,” she said, though she didn’t explain what.

Seleven beat his mighty wings, and toward the smoke they flew. A heavy knot was twisting in Harruq’s stomach as the hills rolled past. They saw no army, but instead the remains of a large village. Without a word, they landed on the outskirts, dismounted, and surveyed the wreckage.

“They burned everything,” Haern said, shaking his head. “Just… everything.”

Over a hundred homes lay crumpled, broken boards and smoldering ash all that remained. The odor of smoke and blood hung in the air as Harruq wandered toward the village center, his hands trembling. Flies swarmed about, blanketing pools of blood and entrails that lay scattered about the streets. Despite the carnage, he saw no bodies.

“Where are they?” he asked. “Where are the dead?”

“Here,” Haern shouted. Harruq followed his voice. On the other side of the village was a giant pit, and Harruq nearly vomited at the sight. Thousands of bones were piled within. An army of crows hopped among them, feasting. When Aurelia saw it, she immediately turned away and covered her mouth.

“What happened?” Harruq asked, dreading the answer. He felt distant memories crushing in upon him.

“Man-flesh,” Aurelia said, her face pale. “They butchered everything, Harruq. The goats, the pigs, the cows… and the rest.”

Harruq turned and fled. His swords were in his hands, yet he never remembered drawing them. He struck broken boards and nearly collapsed walls. Gray sky hung above him, but in his mind it was filled with stars. The village was empty, but in his mind it was full of fleeing men and women. This village had no name he knew, but the one of memory was called Cornrows. In years past, while still serving Velixar, he and Qurrah had destroyed the entire village, leaving not a single survivor.

Harruq stumbled over a broken sword and fell to one knee. He knelt there, his vision blurred. Aurelia called out to him, but he didn’t hear. He didn’t want to hear. The weight of a hundred murders crushed his shoulders and choked the breath from his lungs. Harruq dropped his swords. Amid his red vision he found a cornhusk doll, half of it burned away. When he picked it up, he felt tears well in his eyes.

“Harruq?”

The half-orc looked up. He felt naked and confused. A slender hand touched his shoulder, and he flinched as if struck. Another looped around his neck, and then Aurelia’s hair fell across his face, and within its privacy Harruq sobbed.

“No better,” he said when he could to speak. “I’m no better. How could I have done something like this? How could I… how could…?”

“Shush,” Aurelia whispered, but Harruq would not listen.

“I’m a monster,” he said. “Just a monster.”

Haern approached. his sabers swing at his hip.

“The orcs went west,” he said quietly. “They must have attacked here on the way. Wouldn’t be surprised if they had run low on supplies. When Sir Kull and Lord Sully arrive, they’ll have to be men of stone to ignore this carnage.”

“Thank you, Haern,” Aurelia said, still clutching her husband. “Please, go to Seleven. We’ll be with you soon.”

Haern nodded and left. Harruq’s sobs had turned to soft, shuddering breaths. He seemed almost embarrassed by his outburst. Aurelia used her fingers to wipe his face, and when he looked to her, she smiled.

“What?” he asked.

In response, she kissed his forehead.

“Not a monster,” she told him. “Maybe once, but not now. And not ever again. Do you remember when Aullienna was born? You tried to flee me, flee her. Do you remember?”