49. Destruction
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
Destruction
Flames consumed the Kingdom of Sycarious, lighting up the village in orange. I slowed my mount at the branch off into the village.
“Riding through the village will be faster than around it,” Damien said.
That decided it. The dirt path turned to cobblestone.
We crossed the inner section where the shops sprawled.
It mirrored the village we had passed on the way here.
Such death had reigned over the night. I slowed the horse to step around corpses.
A scream rent the air. Damien and Archer pushed forth with me behind them.
One of those squat Hollows that could be out even during dawnlight had cornered a small family. The man with them utilized a silver platter to swat it away.
The Hollow sank its needle-like teeth into the metal and wrenched it from the man’s hands.
One bite and the paralysis would leave him helpless.
I pushed my horse harder, to help the rest of the family escape at minimum, but I needn’t have.
Archer dismounted while the horse was mid-trot, unsheathing his sword.
He rammed it into the head of the Hollow.
It screeched, its multiple legs writhing and twitching.
Archer did not stop sawing into the head until goo oozed from it and it stilled.
Even then, the man snatched a piece of broken wood and slammed it into the body, beating it with rage in each swing.
The woman hugged the sobbing child. A skittering sound came again. One of the squat creatures abandoned the body it feasted on and came toward us. I pushed my horse toward the woman.
“I will get you both somewhere safe.” She stared at me with wide, fearful eyes.
“Go, Velma!” the man bellowed. Archer whirled to meet the Hollow.
She jolted to life, pushing to her feet. Blue blood stained her and the child, leaking from various cuts on both of them. She carried the toddler in her arms, stepping beside the horse.
“Here, I will pass him to you,” Damien said.
She hesitated, her pale eyebrows furrowing.
“Hurry, Velma!” the man repeated.
She handed the boy over, and he continued sobbing.
I scooted forward and removed my foot from the stirrup.
Velma grabbed onto the back of the saddle, causing it to shift, but she threw herself up, arms straining until she settled behind me.
She scooted back and reached for her son.
Damien passed him back, and he was squashed between us.
“I’ll help Archer see how bad it is,” Damien said, going to his horse and unsheathing the sword. “Be careful.”
I nodded.
“Hold on,” I called, pulling the reins, and spurred the mare forward. She neighed, hooves thudding across the cobbled path. Velma squeezed my waist, bunching the fabric of my dress.
“My husband!”
“Archer will make sure he is well!” I shouted to be heard over the wind.
Blood streaked the streets, both red and blue. I kept forward, not turning to look down the various roads. As we reached the end of the village, an awning-covered path led to the brothel. A knot formed in my throat.
Many moon rotations had passed since Drusilla had dropped me off at the brothel.
It seemed a different lifetime ago. What lay ahead terrified me.
What would happen to society? Everything was collapsing both literally and foundationally.
The realm was much too large to save everything at once.
Survivors ran through the village, battling off the squat Hollows.
As I watched, a nicely dressed woman adorned in jewels and splattered blood thrust forward an amulet.
The Hollow did not hesitate. It caught her hand in its mouth, taking with it the amulet.
Not even those evil amulets repelled this type of Hollow. And there were more that had swarmed from the ground in The Barren.
I turned away from the sobbing woman holding up a bleeding stump and clutched the reins.
So much death and bloodshed. Both blue and red ran.
Death had rendered us all equal. I yanked the steed around and continued through the village toward the House of Lords.
The stone pathway led to the gated section.
I traveled along the slim path until it broke into two directions.
One would lead to the Citadel, but I rode toward the House of Lords, passing slain bodies of the Guard.
The quick slice across the neck told me it had been Cassiel who cut a swath through them.
I forced the horse into a gallop, holding on for dear life.
I could not have been too far behind him after he’d left.
As I rode up through the gates of Sycarious Court, I slowed. Heads lined both sides of the Grand Hall entrance, mounted on spears driven into the stone.
That face . . . It was Lord Dillon. His jaw was unhinged, mouth gaping in a macabre scream. The edges of his mouth had been split. Crusted blue blood smeared his face and plastered his hair to his scalp.
Velma gasped in horror behind me. I yanked the mare to a halt. Abrax grazed on the lawn, a peaceful dichotomy to the savagery of the heads.
“Ride to the side to the kitchen entrance,” I ordered. “Wait there for me. You are welcome to anything.” I dragged my weak leg over the horse’s side, exhaustion making my movements stilted.
I landed shakily, needing to take hold of the horse to balance myself. I handed Velma the reins as she adjusted herself better. Her face was stained with blue blood that had turned a deeper shade now that it was dry and crusted.
Velma hugged her child to her chest, one hand keeping him flush against her while the other hand pulled on the reins to move the mare. If she did as I directed, I would find her at a later time. If she chose to flee, that was also fine.
My gait was uneven as I moved toward the steps.
I neared the steps and the heads impaled on spikes on both sides of them.
Blood dripped from a dangling ligament, plinking against the stone.
My stomach rebelled as I stared at the corpses.
The one beside Dillon was Horveau, then .
. . Lord Cedric, then another council member and another after that.
I turned away, unable to stomach more, and climbed the steps of the House of Lords.