Chapter 22 Picture of Darkness #2
They traveled east, through the same lush, golden forest they had passed on the way in, but instead of continuing straight on, they took a northern pass, through a small mountain that looked more like a hill in comparison to the grand snow-capped giants farther behind it.
The journey was quick, and thankfully the weather was fair, if not unusually warmer than it had been, with an overcast sky and light misty rain that marked the turning of the season.
Caramyn rode Frasya behind Asterious’ stallion, and she was grateful Terrin had taken the time to ensure the mare who’d saved her life could be her mount for this journey.
She heard Nocthar's caw above them, but he stayed out of sight for most of the trip, her unseen guardian.
She refused to speak to Asterious aside from what was necessary, which wasn’t much.
As long as she kept pace with the group, there was little reason to interact.
And it gave her plenty of time to think about what she’d gotten herself into.
She feared if Riven's report was true, she would find herself facing horrors all too familiar. The whole town was gone...burned to nothing, he said. Just like her home. Some part of her hoped he was wrong. That he’d overestimated the damage.
She didn’t want it to be true, but it was the only way to even begin to confirm anything Asterious had told her.
Arriving at the charred remains of the city turned Caramyn’s stomach.
The rancid smell of death and burning smoke hit her nose like a ton of bricks.
Mounds of ash and glowing embers scattered the ground where houses once stood, some blackened frames still intact.
Smoldering black plains were all that was left of the crop fields on the town outskirts.
They dismounted to lead their horses through the rubble, and Asterious commanded his men to spread out to look for survivors.
Caramyn stayed by him and Tyrios, her eyes drinking in the horror.
Streets that were clearly once lined with shops and buildings were now crumbling rivers of cinders and ash.
Elaborate pillars of structures that once must’ve been beautiful were demolished, strewn in pieces near the edges of the city.
Wisps of smoke still rose from the charred remains of houses.
She had to choke back tears when she saw an overturned baby’s crib amongst the destruction, scorched to blackness.
“Why…why would she do this?” She couldn’t stop the question from escaping, even through the quivering lump in her throat.
“Because we fought back.” A voice emerged from the midst of the destruction.
A man, his expression hardly readable through the grime and ash on his face, limped amongst the brokenness.
The group turned to face him. “She sent them to burn our fields and destroy the temples, but we fought back. So instead, they destroyed everything. They killed everyone. My family. My children...”
It was then that Caramyn noticed what he held in his hand. A doll. A child’s doll, covered in soot and mud…or was it blood? A wave of nausea overwhelmed her, and she thought she might vomit right there.
“Are there any survivors?” Asterious asked, desperation breaking through a tremor she swore he was fighting to hide.
“The only ones who survived were the ones who fled fast enough…so few of them. And me, so that I could suffer. So that I could see what I’d brought upon us because I dared to ask her for protection for our city…and instead she sent destruction.”
“Who did? Who is she you speak of?” Caramyn asked through the tightness in her chest, sure that she was speaking out of turn, judging by the glance it earned from Asterious. But she didn’t care.
The man looked at her through bleary eyes, his lip trembling as he stammered. “The new queen. Queen Sinevia.”
“You’re wounded.” The prince gestured, drawing Caramyn’s gaze to a bloodied ripped spot on the man’s shirt.
“Yes, and the infection will take me soon enough,” the man murmured, his voice cracking though his eyes were void of emotion, staring off far away somewhere.
“No, let us help you.” Asterious stepped toward the man. “We have medics who can treat you. You can come back with us and stay in my court.”
“No, no, that won’t be necessary.” The man’s voice fell into a sudden calm, and the shift sent an eerie chill through Caramyn that left her cold with dread.
“You’ll die without treatment.” Asterious pleaded.
“That’s the idea.” The man turned to walk away.
The prince strode after him. “I know you feel hopeless. You’ve had everything taken from you. But please don’t let yourself succumb to this. Don’t let her win.”
Caramyn and Tyrios followed close behind as the man reached out, grasping Asterious’ sleeve with a gentle tug as if to lead him on.
“Come,” he said, and brought them to the edge of a hill that dipped down into a shallow valley.
He pointed. “You see down there. I stayed behind to make sure there was someone to give them some dignity. Every last one.”
Caramyn breathed in to keep herself from buckling to her knees at the sight below.
Dozens upon dozens of bodies, lined in rows and positioned carefully to look as at peace as possible.
The man continued as Caramyn closed her eyes.
Even though she had watched Shadows destroy grown men and tear their souls from their bodies, nothing had ever disturbed her like this.
The man continued, the unsettling calm still in his voice.
“I buried my son and daughters this morning.”
“I’m…I’m so sorry. Nothing can replace your family. But I promise you I’ll do everything I can to stop this from happening again.” Asterious’ spoke tenderly, and Tyrios stayed back to allow him the space to persuade the man. “Just please, come with us.”
“I don’t even know who you are.” The man said.
“So why would I go with you? When the only place I want to go is with them...” He looked down at the graves of his children and then reached for the sword sheathed at the prince’s waist. Asterious went to stop him, but when his hand touched the sword, he was jolted backwards by a burst of dark sparks, and he shrieked in pain.
Tyrios had already lunged forward but couldn’t pull the sword from the man’s grasp before he turned it on himself and plunged it into his stomach.
“No!” Asterious cried out as the man dropped to his knees, blood filling his mouth as the life left his eyes and he fell forward off the hill and onto the graves below. Caramyn looked away, her stomach sinking.
The three stood silent at the top of the hill, the air too heavy for words. Asterious cursed and then mounted his horse. “Keep searching.” It was a desperate command, but any hint of hope was gone from his voice.
As Caramyn settled back into the saddle of her mare, she shook her head, still in disbelief at what she’d just witnessed and the unfairness of it all. Tyrios rode alongside her as Asterious kept his distance ahead.
“What was that?” she asked, her voice low. “Why couldn’t he take the sword from the man to stop him?”
Tyrios looked at her uneasily and then at the prince in the distance. “It’s a lot to explain. And not really my place to tell you if he hasn’t already.” Tyrios sighed. “Just know it wasn’t anything the man did. It’s…the sword.”
She blinked, perplexed and distraught, but no less intrigued. “Why does he carry it then, if he can’t use it? Is it to deter someone from attacking?”
“Partly,” Tyrios nodded, his golden hair catching the sunlight, highlighting the brown threaded through the curls. “But mostly, because he refuses to stop trying, even when it might kill him.”
Caramyn watched the prince, a picture of darkness and despair—the shadow beneath his raven-black hair obscuring half his face, the dark scruff along his jaw, the black cloak cascading down to the flanks of the midnight stallion that carried him through an ashen sea of hopelessness.
They set out to return that evening, making camp when night fell on a starless sky.
No one spoke of the day’s events. In fact, no one spoke at all.
Caramyn rested her head on the blanket she’d brought and pulled her mantle over her despite the warm evening.
She couldn’t stop thinking about the brokenness she’d seen in the prince, and she once again questioned everything she thought she knew.
She could no longer doubt his warnings about Sinevia.
But that didn’t mean she would blindly trust him either.
It was clearer than ever that he still carried secrets.
And even if she wanted to help him, she didn’t know if she could accomplish what he was asking her to do.
She hardly knew how to trust herself anymore.
She’d killed men who could very well have been that broken Misthelm man.
She’d told herself she was just doing what was necessary to survive, and to guard the unknown power at the Veil… and maybe she was…
But if she agreed to help Asterious, and to stay in his world for the time being, she could never let him know.
***
The next day’s ride was uneventful, and the cooler crisp air of late autumn had returned. With only a few hours left until they reached the Forbidden Court, Caramyn decided to break the silence between her and the prince. She nudged her horse forward to match the pace of his. “Why Misthelm?”
She was surprised when he didn’t hesitate to answer and replied without skipping a beat.
“Misthelm was a bustling, popular city. A rare place where humans and Lightborn coexisted—mostly peacefully—and even thrived. Probably because of its proximity to Vaerwynd. The humans even built temples to the old gods that created the Lightborn in the Shattering. It probably started as a way to gain favor, but it grew to have quite the following. So you can imagine the resistance when my father decreed the Order.”
“I’m sure…” was all Caramyn could manage.
“It was. As hard as my father tried, he couldn’t quite eradicate the deep-rooted belief systems there.
So, they were always a thorn in his side, a city of humans that revered magic long after it was outlawed.
There were so few of them left after the Order purged the cities, and the magic wall around the city that once protected it was gone, so the city lost the strength to adequately protect itself from the constant thieves and loyalists that exploited its wealth of resources. ”
Caramyn shuddered at the mention of the purges that came after the Veil. Her mother told her of the horrors of how Blackwynd soldiers and Inquisitors would scour every city, destroying any inkling of magic they could find. Dawnmire had been safe from most of it…until it wasn’t.
“Are you sure you never really wanted to rule this kingdom?” Caramyn asked, switching her focus back to Asterious. “Because you certainly seem to care for its people.”
“I do. But they deserve better than me.”
Caramyn wanted to say something, but she didn’t know what words she could possibly offer after what they endured at the ruins of Misthelm. All she could think to attempt was, “It wasn’t your fault what happened back there.”
“Fault doesn’t change the outcome,” he grumbled. “Either way, it wouldn’t be the first blood on my hands. And it likely won’t be the last. I could’ve stopped him if…” His voice trailed off, as if he realized he’d said too much.
“If what?” Caramyn encouraged gently. She could no longer resist the urge to ask the question burning in her veins like the smolders of the city behind them. “I saw what happened with the sword back there. Why did it hurt you?”
“You saw that.” The prince shifted his shoulders, breathing in a resigned sigh. “I suppose I’d have to tell you sooner or later…but, I hadn’t hoped it would be today.”
Another secret. Caramyn wanted to say, but it would be incredibly hypocritical of her. She was holding back everything from him, while he at least seemed to be giving her bits and pieces. Even if they didn’t make sense.
He kept his eyes ahead on the road as he went on, the hesitation in his voice clear as he spoke through a deep exhale.
“I’m sure it’s obvious enough that I’m a steel singer.
But, thanks to my dear sister, I’ve recently been burdened with an unfortunate curse that deflects my own magic back to me.
So, when I touch a sword, axe, dagger—whatever—the very Lightborn magic that grants me speed, strength, and accuracy with my blades, is…
warped…into pain that makes me unable to wield them. ”
Caramyn didn’t know what explanation she expected, but it certainly wasn’t that. She twisted the reins in her fingers as she started thinking of all the things this could mean. “And Sinevia did this to you?”
She noticed Asterious, too, fidgeting with his reins, and it was the first time she’d seen him look so uncomfortable talking about something. Was it shame, or fear of the vulnerability in telling her this?
“Yes,” he snipped. “After our father’s death, she gifted me a dagger.
And the moment I touched it, I knew something was wrong.
It was…excruciating. And I saw something in her eyes I’d never seen before, like she was reveling in my pain, though she tried to pretend otherwise. And that’s when I knew I had to leave.”
“She wanted to make it so that you can’t fight back.” She was thinking out loud, and all too late realized perhaps that was the wrong thing to say.
He was quiet, as though deciding what to say next. “Or she wants to unleash something far more dangerous than any sword in my hand.”
Something about the way his words darkened the air sent a chill skittering through her body. What the hell did he mean by that, exactly? Clearly, he didn’t want her to know.
So she asked the obvious, less threatening question. “And you believe the Shadowblood’s Blade will be different? That it can overcome the curse? What if it hurts you too?”
He exhaled slowly. “The Blade holds the balance of Light and Shadow. It stands to reason that it can undo what they create. And if I’m wrong…” he huffed, humorless. “Then I’ll hold on until it kills me.”
Asterious clicked his tongue and nudged his horse into a trot without leaving room for a response, just as the grand towers of the castle came into view.
Caramyn kept her slow pace, letting him go on ahead, and welcomed the scent of the flowering bright gold forest that was beginning to tarnish into shades of bronze and amber.
She imagined what it might look like in a few more weeks, when the full fiery colors of autumn would contrast against the glimmering teal sea in the distance.
She breathed in the fresh air, letting it cleanse her lungs of the smoke and death they’d left behind, trying to push away the vision in her head of the rest of this beautiful realm being turned to ash.