Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
N estled within a normally tranquil vale by the mountains was the remnants of the small village known as Green Tryst. Though small, it was just last week a thriving village, as it sat on a major trade route between Saeren and Eslirie, the two capital cities of the neighbouring and previously friendly nations.
But the village was now scarred by tragedy.
The cobblestone streets, normally bustling with activity, now bore the obvious signs of destruction as the skeletal remains of proud buildings stood like burnt carcasses still smoking against the setting sun on the horizon.
Once the beating heart of Green Tryst, the village square lay in ruins.
The fountain in the centre was shattered and streams of water spurted up with nowhere to go, leaving a growing puddle of murky water around it.
Market stalls were reduced to sites of broken wood and charred fabric, their wares strewn across the ground, so woefully forgotten and unimportant since the carnage of the attack.
Charred remnants of homes were still smouldering, and wisps of smoke curled into the air as a haunting sign of the devastation wrought by the wyvern’s wrath.
Of the many taverns in the village, only one remained standing, the rest now hollow shells, most with their roofs collapsed, and their windows shattered, glinting glass lying on the floor and threatening further injury to the already beaten and broken villagers.
“We’re staying in the only tavern that is still operational,” Lucien explained. “We’ve had a hard day of riding, if we freshen up and rest, we can start tomorrow.”
“I suggest we start now, my prince,” Verin muttered, glancing around with a pained expression. “I won’t be able to sleep while I can sense all this suffering.”
Weary as he was from travelling, Leander agreed with his brother’s assessment of the situation.
When they should have been hearing laughter and joyous merriment, it had been replaced by the eerie silence of abandonment.
The very village felt wounded, its residents reduced to shells of their former selves, with nothing left but misfortune and torment: the memory of carnage and the fear it might happen again.
Amid the destruction, there were signs of life flickering faintly.
Huddles of survivors hid together in what houses had remained standing, sorrow and fear radiating off of them like violent waves clashing against a ship at sea.
Mourning the sudden loss of friends and family, the grief was a palpable presence in the air that couldn’t be ignored.
It caused Leander’s heart to clench, and he wanted to claw at his throat to rid himself of the horrible sensation.
As the villagers saw the four nobles ride into town, surrounded by the retinue of soldiers, most remained inside, watchful, but some came into the ruins of the village square to meet them.
Even in the face of destruction and despair, Leander could feel the threads of hope lingering like a fragile ember.
Some of the villagers, the resilient few who had not been injured in the wyvern attack, had already begun the arduous task of rebuilding some of the houses. There was determination there too, Leander felt, determination to rise from the ashes and reclaim that which was lost.
As the sun finally set on the ravaged village, casting long shadows across the scarred ground, the villagers’ spirits remained unbroken. Left with little except unwavering resolve and hope, a beacon of light in the darkness.
Dismounting, Leander shivered. Having led a relatively sheltered life, he had never seen such devastation.
“I would say you get used to it... but you never really do,” Verin murmured softly into Leander’s ear as the pair took in their surroundings.
“I can’t quite decide if that’s a good thing or a bad thing,” Leander said.
“Definitely good,” Verin replied quickly. “I cannot ever imagine losing my humanity to the extent that I accept such devastation as this.”
“But Leander isn’t a human,” Jarryn interjected before Leander could reply. “He already said that himself.”
“Give it a rest, Jarryn.” Lucien’s amusement from earlier had vanished, replaced with a wary sombreness .
The displaced prince said no more as two of the soldiers collected the four horses from the nobles.
Leander took the opportunity to stretch and bend his legs, shaking out the restlessness that lay heavy on his limbs. “Let’s get to it, then,” he announced and he looked to Verin and Lucien for guidance, as they were more experienced, as well as being in charge of their expedition.
The soldiers with them split into two groups at Lucien’s command, the smaller group would stay with the four nobles, whilst the larger group would help the villagers to rebuild.
A woman approached, flanked by two smart looking officials.
The woman, whilst not dressed in finery, was quite obviously a lesser noble, the ranking individual in this village.
Her garb, dust and soot ridden as it was, with a charred hem, was not the simple cotton of a commoner, but a dyed satin.
She had perhaps been at dinner when the wyvern had attacked yesterday evening.
“Your Highness.” She bowed at the waist to greet Lucien. “Thank you for your speed in coming here. There are too many who are lost to us and countless more who are suffering greatly. I am Ayla. My father is— was —the mayor of this village.”
“I am deeply sorry for your loss, Ayla.” Lucien took the young woman’s hands, inviting her to stand out of her bow. “We are here to do what we can to help you and the people of this village. If it suits you, we would like to get started immediately.”
“Yes, of course, Your Highness.” She inclined her head at the others. “My lords, please follow me.”
Ayla led them through the ruins of the village, and each of them grew more and more mournful as they looked around at the destruction.
“Wyverns flying overhead are not uncommon, nestled by the mountains as we are, but we have always maintained a peaceful coexistence with the creatures. This attack was unprovoked.”
“So your missive said,” Lucien agreed as he walked beside Ayla, the other three trailing behind. “Perhaps there was an unconscious threat. Wyverns don’t attack humans without cause.”
“As we thought, but if one of the survivors knows of a cause, they have not come forward.”
“I merely wonder so that we may prevent a travesty like this from occurring again.”
Ayla nodded. “That is my wish too.” She drew to a halt in front of a large manor house. “I have opened my home to as many survivors as I can fit. Mainly families with young children and sudden orphans. They, the children, that is, are likely in the direst need of your arcane help.”
Lucien turned to his companions. “If you three will start tending to the children, I will go with Ayla and support her with organising the village.”
When Verin, Jarryn, and Leander nodded their understanding, Lucien left with the mayor’s daughter.
Turning to Verin, Leander awaited instructions.
His brother was looking through the open doors into the manor’s dining room, where the table had been pushed to the side and makeshift beds had been laid out.
A few healers bustled about. There were no cries or screams, but children sat with tear streaks running down soot-covered faces, staring off into the distance.
“Remember, we are not to remove these emotions, only soothe them in order that the children might process them a little more gently.”
“Verin…” Verin had started towards the room but stopped as Leander called to him. “I don’t know if I have enough control over my Aesthesia to do this properly.”
Verin stared down his brother for a moment before sighing. “You’re probably right. Okay, new plan: Leander will engage the children and Your Highness, you and I will weave our magic.”
“Sounds reasonable,” Jarryn agreed, a look of sorrowful determination on his face.
Leander followed the other two into the dining room and looked around.
Many of the children glanced up as they came in.
Though he wasn’t comfortable actively using Aesthesia to alter the emotions of these children, Leander was quite happy to use it passively to feel them.
Finding the spot in the room where the grief and shock was the most profound, he headed over to that child.
The girl looked to be a pre-teen, maybe a little younger.
Her long and curly hair was dirty blonde, not that you would know it from the soot that covered it.
Her plain dress was not in any better condition.
Her face was blank, but the emotions radiating off of her were a relentless storm within, a tempest of anguish that was engulfing her very soul.
Leander felt the seams of his own soul tearing just by being proximal to this suffering.
Forcing a soft smile on his face, he came to sit by the little girl. “Hello, sweetheart. My name is Leander, what’s yours?”
The girl didn’t answer, but Leander wasn’t put out, as he had not expected an easy run at this .
“I came here on a horse. Perhaps in the morning I can introduce you to her. Would you like that, hmm?”
At least the girl was looking at him, but beyond that, there was very little reaction from the girl as he tried to engage her in conversation. He made a few more attempts, all of which failed.
Leander glanced up at Verin, who was kneeling on the other side of the girl. His brother nodded further encouragement. Bolstered, the demigod shifted to get more comfortable on the makeshift straw mattress and tried again.
“Do you want to tell me what happened?” Leander finally asked.
The turmoil bubbled and Leander felt Verin working beside him to bottleneck the emotions, slow feeding them rather than allowing a tidal wave to drown the girl.
“It’s alright, you’re safe now, sweetheart.” Leander’s tone was soft and reassuring. “Tell me what happened. You’re very brave for enduring such a horrible ordeal.”
Quietly, the girl began to recount her harrowing experience during the wyvern attack. Her voice was a hoarse whisper to start with but grew in strength as she continued.
Leander listened attentively, offering comfort with every word the girl spoke.
When she was finished, Leander was vaguely aware that her emotions were significantly calmer, not nearly as intense. Verin had managed to soothe her feelings.
“You are incredibly strong, sweetheart. Thank you for sharing your tale with me.” Leander squeezed his arm around the girl’s torso and hugged her into him. “Do you think you want to try to sleep now, darling?”
The girl considered, then nodded.
“Okay then.” Leander moved off the mattress and allowed the girl to lie down, pulling the thin blanket up over her. “Sweet dreams, you brave, brave girl.”
Standing as the girl closed her eyes, Leander smiled at Verin.
“Good job, Leander.” It was Jarryn who spoke, and Leander glanced over at the prince, surprised to find him also smiling.
“Yes, well done, little lion,” Verin murmured to his brother, the pride evident in his voice, and Leander flushed.
He glanced at Jarryn, praying the prince had not heard that moniker from Verin and noticed the prince was working hard to keep his smile from breaking; the edges of Jarryn’s lips were trembling with the effort. Damn it.
He would never live that down.
“I think if we support those children who are suffering the most tonight and help the rest to sleep. That might be all we can do tonight. We have tomorrow as well.” Leander said quickly, trying to move the conversation on.
“Yes we will need to rest soon, lest we expend all of our energy,” Verin agreed. “Who next, Leander?”
The trio worked through the children as selected by Leander, achieving success with nine of the most traumatised, before Verin and Jarryn had exhausted their Aesthesic reserves and decided they were done for the night.
Leaving the children in the capable and grateful hands of their parents and caretakers, the three nobles left the mayor’s manor and wound their way through the village, bracing themselves against the evening chill. They reached the tavern, where they were greeted by the keeper.
“My apologies, my lords, but Prince Lucien said you would not mind sharing. You see we are allowing people who are now homeless to stay here while we rebuild the village.”
Verin insisted that would not be a problem.
Despite discovering that they would be sharing a twin room, Leander and Jarryn took their cues from Verin, agreeing with him and putting the innkeeper at ease with the embarrassment he felt at being unable to suitably house four of the highest ranking individuals in the kingdom.
Up the stairs, Verin took the first door on the right and the other two continued on to open the second door just beyond. Entering the room, they were both pleased to find a bathtub filled with steaming water in the middle of the room, ready and more than a little welcoming.
Leander hesitated for a second, then said, “Do you want to go first?”
“Thank you, Leander,” Jarryn said with a confused smile. He began to remove layers and Leander made a show of busying himself with his belongings.
He couldn’t help surreptitious glances in Jarryn’s direction.
In the gentle flicker of torchlight, each contour on the prince’s body was meticulously carved through discipline.
His arms were like sculpted marble and they rippled as he removed his loosely fitting shirt, revealing a chiselled torso, each muscle a stroke in the masterpiece of Jarryn’s physique.
Leander couldn’t help but admire what he saw. Glancing up, he caught Jarryn staring at him. Leander’s face flushed scarlet. “Sorry. I… ah… I didn’t mean…”
Turning bodily away, he finished sorting his clothes for tomorrow and darted out of the room, leaving Jarryn to bathe in peace.
Leander needed a drink.