Chapter 26 Belle-Belle
Belle-Belle
Marveling at the faerie gifts that could be bestowed upon my fellow humans, I led us along the path, or rather, Comrade did, a clip of urgency in his gait.
Were we truly so close to the capital? I had of course noticed how Benoit and Lucas had drawn nearer me when we met the new man, Kai. It had warmed my heart.
I was beginning to consider Aubert a close confidant, but my knowledge of Matteo stopped somewhere past his good cheer and gregarious nature, with those odd pauses every so often. Kai seemed a decent sort.
And then there was Guillaume.
I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from sighing or scowling, since he seemed to induce both behaviors in me.
At least he seemed to take my safety seriously, as befitted a man in my company.
I hoped he would not contradict me in front of anyone outside our cadre, for that could prove not only discourteous but also divisive.
Kai integrated with our group well, it seemed, and when we stopped in the town Comrade had indicated would be an ideal break for the night, he was talking with Matteo, who even let him get some words in.
The town had seemed well-populated, based on the number of houses we passed on our way to one of the handful of inns; that, and the amount of cultivated land on the outskirts indicated to me a thriving and perhaps even bustling region.
Comrade had not given any specific advice as we approached, other than to remind me that it was unwise to reveal the extent of our faerie gifts.
I had thought we could take our meal in the common room and then rest…
but the atmosphere was somber. Based on the houses I had counted, I had assumed there would be more people at the inn.
Still, I was not certain what life would look like when we reached the capital, or how soon we would be dining in tents on our way to reclaim King Aristide’s ancestral lands, so I directed us to dine at a large table.
Aubert was late, having spent some time foraging nearby; he had no doubt discerned that money was not an obstacle in our travels, but he still seemed intent on keeping me supplied with daily sylphium, and bringing beneficial cooking and healing herbs along with him in the event of the unexpected.
The meal was simple—root vegetables braised in ale, with some hunks of game meat interspersed—but the inn remained quiet, with few conversations beyond our own.
There were a few children, likely belonging to the handful of people who staffed the inn, playing quietly by the fire; they were young enough, and with a variety of messy hair lengths among them, that I could not determine whether they were boys or girls.
Two of the barkeeps were having an intense-appearing whispered conversation, gesturing in myriad directions, including towards us.
I was beginning to worry that I had been spotted as an impostor when one of the men from behind the bar came over to us.
“Good sirs,” he said to my relief, “am I to understand that there is an herbalist among you?”
“Yes, I have one in my employ,” I said, gathering that I was the one being addressed. I looked at Aubert, who was fiddling with a twig that had found its way from his hair to his shirt.
“We would be most grateful to borrow his assistance. I see that you have already paid for your meal, but we will refund that coin, and host you for nothing in exchange.” There was an undertone of desperation to the man’s voice, and I looked closer.
He appeared older, with three or four decades of life that showed in his graying hair, but not his smooth, stubble-less face.
I put down my utensils. The dire note in the man’s voice and the empty atmosphere had combined to heighten my sense that something was wrong.
I looked around the table, and saw similar looks of concern on my men’s faces, except for Guillaume, who had finished his stew and was flipping a small throwing knife up and down, from hand to hand. Aubert gave a subtle nod.
“We are traveling to the capital in answer to King Aristide’s summons, but if we may be of help while we are here, please consider us at your service.
” Comrade’s warning echoed in my ears, and thus in an attempt to seem normal and unremarkable, I did not deign to give my name.
Though, for all I knew, the same faerie who had gifted me was also in the habit of handing out new names, and they could be the same name as mine; faeries were oddly possessive of names at times.
“Many thanks,” the man said. “But there is another pressing matter: some of our number have gone missing, and we fear a beast is rampaging, for it has been a day since they vanished.”
I could not help it—my eyes went straight to Guillaume. He was no longer insouciantly slouched, but had sat up straight when the innkeeper had approached us, and had left one eye partly uncovered by his blindfold.
Why did I look at him then? Did I think him a monster akin to a murderous beast? Or was it that he was the one who had so disparaged me in the wake of our last encounter with such a creature?
I glanced next at Benoit, who was also sitting up quite tall—and he was already very large—and intently staring at me, waiting for me to respond, though I knew that he had great skill as a tracker.
If this, too, meant being a leader, I would rue it the rest of my days, but it was my duty to engage with this and deliver the terrible news.
“How many?” I asked as gently as I could.
“Two men, three women, and two children.”
My mind rebelled against the memory, bringing it up in any specificity, and I closed my eyes against the rush of blood that attacked my head. When I opened them again, I looked at Benoit, and he took over for me.
“We found four bodies, or parts of them: two men, one woman, and one child.”
I recovered my voice. “And we buried them, but if we had known—”
The man thinned his lips against the trembling that was threatening to overtake them.
“Thank you for…caring for them. In their deaths. As few have cared for them in their lives.”
It was not enough, however. I knew I had to do more, do better. I was already finding my feet, pushing my chair back.
“We will go out and look for the rest. Unfortunately, that requires the use of my herbalist, for he is an excellent tracker, but when we return, he will be at your disposal.”
The man nodded, then went, I presumed, to relay the news to others. I looked at the rest of my men, opening my mouth to apologize for wresting them away from a quiet and hopefully restorative evening.
“We’re with you, Milord,” Benoit said, and that was all I needed to hear. We rose as one, and exited the inn.
***
Knowing Aubert’s keen hearing would be an asset in case there were survivors, I split us into groups: he would go with Benoit and Lucas, while I would accompany Guillaume, Matteo, and Kai in an effort to cover more ground.
It galled me to know that if I failed as a leader, Guillaume would see me and know, but it made the most sense to have at least one strong fighter with each group, and I knew I was not yet at that state. Guillaume could protect us if needed, and Benoit could protect the others.
As we exited the town, the smell of cooking fires accompanied us.
It would have been a comforting scent to take in, the promise of warm food and fire, except we now knew that four villagers would never come home again to these houses and their families therein.
And we did not know what had happened to the remaining three.
This region boasted glades of pine trees, some of which had been cleared for farmland.
The deeper into the forest we went, the more the aroma of pines filled the air, overtaking the homey smell of fires and foods, reminding us that we were on the threshold of the wilderness, where anything might lurk.
It was not long before Guillaume’s keen eyes led us to a tangle of pines and thick thorny undergrowth that the previous search parties had likely overlooked.
“Blood on the bark,” he grunted, pointing at a few mottled spots that were barely visible.
Matteo was able to blow much of the underbrush out of the way, his cheeks puffing out each time. He sent the thorny vines tumbling away, allowing us to enter a hidden glade. I had to dismount Comrade to walk in.
Immediately, my ears rang and I wished to walk back out, but my feet froze—my whole body froze.
For we had found the remaining victims.
It was a jumble of bodies, really. A heap of things that used to be human but no longer were.
An elbow pointed up. A foot dangled at the end of what had been a leg. And for some reason I fixated on the hair—three colors of it, at least. Faded red, the copper of a dying sunset, frizzy black, and blond like my own.
Both body and mind wished to stop, retreat, not see, not act.
However, I knew that the dull ice was descending on me, as it had last time, and I closed my eyes to take a breath.
My left hand—for my right had Guillaume’s dagger in it—groped for a second at my chest, finding my locket, bound with the clothes of another dead victim.
Someone was carrying a lantern. How else could we see the gruesome remains in such detail, when it was nearly dark? At first I thought it was me, but no, both my hands were already full.
I took another breath.
“Milord?” Matteo asked.
One more breath, in and out, before I could reply.
“My cloak. We can wrap them in my cloak.”
I looked to Guillaume, and saw a canny appraisal on his face before he tugged the blindfold back down.
His eyes had already done what they needed to, and I had no doubt that continuing to view the scene at the excruciating level of detail with which he saw the world was something that might shake even his stony resolve.
I looked to Matteo and Kai, who bore similar expressions on their faces: solemn, yet waiting.
So I took off my cloak, and we began wrapping what was left of the bodies to bring them home for burial.
It was a hollow prize, to know I had stayed calm this time, had not abandoned my duties or my men, because the real work was yet to come when we ventured forth to war, and any pride I had in my behavior would be eclipsed by the sorrow of the news we would bear, that there had been no survivors.