IN WHICH FLESH IS DEVOURED.
People emerged from the forest, in twos and threes. Whether the crackling bonfire in the centre of camp drew them, or they were found and sent by Zephyr, the came to us. Some walked, some limped, some hobbled, some were carried. A little band of soldiers, one half-dead atop their single horse, blank-eyed and sitting with swords drawn against the nightmares that followed through the day. Branches were torn down from trees, tossed into the bonfire, burning up no matter how green or wet.
A few people had seen me cast the simple spell to repair the girl's stuffed bear. They hurried back with torn bags, broken tools, salvaged weapons, wordlessly asking for the same help. All of the damaged objects were easy enough to repair with a twist of magic and a kind gesture. The sheer exhaustion I saw in each face was melded with past terrors and a heart-deep fear of the coming days, not so simple to fix. They slipped away, back to families and the endless tasks of survival, and took the word with them. Soon a crowd began to form. The scraps they had dragged out of the world-ending blaze had all the more meaning in the too-quiet, untamed forest. Voices were loud, "form a line please!" I called, but that just encouraged the jostlers to form their own lines, clothing and weapons proffered up, cries for assistance all heard by my own aching ears. A child was thrust in my face, missing an eye, I couldn't help it, I recoiled, and the crowd moved.
Keller passed through the swarm like it wasn't there, grabbing some people, pushing others closer, tripping a few, dragging one of the soldiers all the way out and throwing them to the ground. He turned back in and pushed his way to the front, standing before me, holding a fistful of hair and staring down at one fallen traveller. He didn't even say anything, the crowd shuddered as one, looked like it was about break, and Keller just... relaxed. Suddenly it was no longer one crowd, but a hundred scared survivors. He moved back through them, helping people up, joking, corralling them into a rough line, deputising a few to keep order, sharing a quiet word. I just... got back to work, heart hammering away in my neck.
The people came to me with broken bits and pieces, and I fixed what I could. The spells I used never created something from nothing, just rearranged the world a tiny fragment at a time. I would've run out of socks in an instant, so I pulled from leaf and vine, from sticks and bark and pinecones. When I asked for help from the subdued lines, a pile of shredded clothes and shattered crockery and other things that were too far past saving came to the front, and I wove the raw materials into my fixings. The line never ended, it grew longer as the day passed and word spread like flowing water, pooling in the families that needed it most. Time after time I was asked to mend a broken arm or ravaged face, and it broke my heart a little to turn them down every time. Zephyr arranged the magical healing for the four of us. Zephyr had told us exactly what we should expect that healing to do to us over the next few years. I wouldn't inflict that on these people. Not after what they'd already been through.
Keller wove through the line, eye-contact and careful words his currency of choice. Then he came up and spoke to me, a breath in my ear for me alone that raised the hairs on the back of my neck. "Times like these, people forget things easily. They forget their neighbours. They forget about tomorrow. They just have each moment, and a loaf of bread on the wrong child's plate, or an anger with nowhere to put it. I'll speak to those I find. And then there are the others, the ones who are delighted that all of this," he waved an arm vaguely towards where the city once stood, "has happened. I'm going for a wander. Sort some things out. Tell John when he gets back, and that I'll stop at five. Ten, perhaps."
John was going to be furious. To cull the people further, for a crime not yet committed? Unthinkable.
Keller seemed to think it was necessary. I bit my lip, and kept fixing trinkets.
Pots and pans and clothes and jewellery and axes and shovels and and and and. And more. Did I cast a thousand of my tiny spells today? Ten thousand? Some people in the line were swapping and trading, bartering very little for nothing much at all, or for coins that passed through furtive hands, like they were doing something wrong. It's not that I would never dream of charging for my services. I would only ever dream, never ever take my cut, even as the click and clink of imaginary coinage stacked higher in my head. I could not stop dreaming of bronze pennies. It wasn't in my nature. So, I kept on splicing broken reminders of peoples lives, while the sun turned in the sky, while the forest was fed to the bonfire one branch at a time.
John came back eventually, blade still clean and pulling along a straggling group that had lost their would-be leader. Old faces trembled, holding too-young hands for support. No food amongst them, not a bite to eat, nor any fresh water. Even Zephyr wouldn't be able to produce water or supplies from nothing, not unless we planned on killing every single person here in the fourth most horrible way imaginable. I left my spot at the head of the queue, promising to come back soon. They watched me go like lost lambs, clutching prized possessions. Where had all these people come from? John was quietly furious when I told him what Keller was up to, and stalked off by himself for a while. I spotted him between the trees, pacing back and forth. He came back eventually, smiling brightly. "We need to organise these people into work groups," he said briskly, pointing out natural clusters. "There must be edibles to forage in the woods, and Alaxoria will be back soon. And we can collect water from the river, even" he raised a hand at my protest "even if it's currently polluted, these people will be very thirsty soon, and Zephyr will be able to cleanse it. Or you and I together. We can dig a cistern, line it with stones, and use that to store it. Or move everyone closer to the river, I'm sure other groups will gravitate towards it. No doubt the army is already regrouping, we should aim to join them as soon as possible, along with these survivors. In fact, I need to- I need to try and speak with the abbey. I haven't meditated yet, not since. Haven't, I haven't had time." The bright smile on his face didn't waver for a moment. Not in front of all these people, all of them idly listening in.
There was a lot of waiting to do in our campsite, waiting for what? I wasn't quite sure, but with all that time for hushed gossip I'm certain John and Susan were names on lips. Once night fell and people stopped coming to me with broken things, I'd go through the fireside conversations and see what people had said and heard. Perhaps someone knew what was happening out there in the shattered lands, perhaps a plan was already coalescing around a surviving general or merchant lord, perhaps a prince or duke had been atop the walls instead of ensconced safely (heads sliding, bodies toppling, blood fountaining to splatter like rain) within the castle. A strategy, a figurehead even, something other than just sitting here in the forest twiddling our thumbs and growing hungrier.
As the sun began to fall between the trees, long shadows crept across the campsite. The bonfire was heaped ever higher, but a cold wind began to blow from the East, a wind that sang a low sad song between the branches. Shoulders hunched, young faces pinched with hunger and whining a counterpoint to the wind. Tired parents spoke sharply, or did not reply at all. John made his way between the little gatherings, stepping around the shuffled stones and dragged logs that made up seats and beds. Everywhere he went, people sat straighter, smiled brighter, even laughed a little. I didn't know what exactly he was telling them, maybe the truth, maybe a few comforting lies. No ordained priest wearing the symbols of Her Radiance the Dawnbringer can knowingly lie, not even by omission. Lucky for us, John wasn't a priest.
The scent of blood wafted through the trees, somehow managing to whet my appetite despite everything. Heads turned, concerned or hungry. Shuddering footfalls echoed their way between the trees. And then, cheers and applause, delighted and surprised in equal measure, people stood to see what approached. Rescuers? Knights? No, even better: food.
Alaxoria stepped with utmost caution towards the centre of the camp. Every one of her footfalls came down with a thump like an anvil striking. In both her arms, above her head, resting on her rippling shoulders that gleamed bronze in the setting sunlight, lay one of the regal boars. Its head was smashed to utter pulp, but it was impossible to for it to be anything else, no other beast grew to such incredible rotundness. Alaxoria was drenched in sweat, face dirty, tendons tight in her neck, veins standing out all up and down her arms. A few of the survivors came forward to render aid, offered to assist her in carrying a beast more than ten times their size. Alaxoria had to stop a moment, and gently kick them out of the way, no breath left to speak. Step by step she made her way into the centre of camp, footfalls crushing through logs, kicking aside rocks. The bonfire shone on her taut face, giving her a savage, wild cast in the light of the flickering flames. Three, four more steps, and she dropped the carcass of the regal boar with a mighty crunch. Slowly, she stood straight again, kneading the muscles of her upper back and stretching side to side. Pig blood had soaked down the back of her leather jacket, but she didn't seem to mind. She turned to face the hungry crowd, and spoke all of their minds: "Dinner!"
The cheering shook the birds from their nests in the branches above.
----------------------------------------
Cooking a regal boar in the middle of the forest after civilisation has been destroyed is a tricky task, but not insurmountable. Alaxoria sent a pair of sprightly young farmers to go fetch her axe where she had left it, and set to work. "With big meat, is hard to cook inside. In my home village, we dig pit, cook over days. But tonight, hungry is king. So, we carve, and we burn, and we eat!"
An entire green sapling was carved into a spit, and Alaxoria uprooted two other trees to act as the supports. With her recovered axe, she slashed deep gouges into the flesh of the boar, making sure to catch the blood in flasks and cups. Next, she hauled the spitted carcass onto the supports, only slightly catching herself on fire in the progress. Soldiers with spears were set on the task of rotating the immense assembly, under Alaxoria's very watchful eye. She sat nearest the bonfire and stripped out of most of her bloodstained garb. She was... quite the sight, in the dark of night, with trees towering overhead, the blazing fire behind, peeling the blood-slaked clothing off her forearms. The logistics of serving were helped with the return of Zephyr, who cast a massed transmutation of acorns to bowls. Keller has reappeared at some point in all of this, I had no idea where they had been in all the fuss. Nor did I really want to know. John was busy marshalling the dinner guests, so Zephyr drifted down to join me and Keller once they were sure every man, woman and child was holding an off-blue, slightly barkish bowl.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.
"Have you successfully resolved the situation?" the wizard asked, drifting around near head height. They looked even more transparent than usually, a sure sign they had been casting spells the entire day. Keller shrugged, "Nobody has killed each other, if that's what you mean. Some fistfights though, petty theft. Nothing major." Zephyr turned to me.
"Uh, well. People seem... a bit lost? I know I do. I don't know what we can do for all of them, but food is a good start." People were walking past us holding steaming bowls of meat, many of them very lightly splattered with juices. Alaxoria was using her axe to carve hunks off the village-sized roast, expertly sending the slices falling into the waiting bowls. John marched up and down the various queues, beaming with delight. He had a handful of men walking with him and doing the same, a mix of soldiers and farmers, the biggest and toughest. The most likely to cause trouble, I guessed.
"John seems to be in good spirits," opined Keller, settling down on a vacant stump and sticking his feet out. "Wish I had that kind of energy, after this many hours at it. Perhaps I should give religion a try again, get some Dawnbringer in me. Ladies." He nodded at a pair of women who were moving towards the bonfire, they giggled at his impish impiety. I gave Keller a look over. "Did you kill anyone today." I asked lightly, not bothering to make it a question. He huffed, started counting on his fingers, then laughed at my expression. "No, none, but I've got my eye on two. If it needs to be done, I'll be quick, and," he turned to look at John, who was hovering over a barrel of something. "I'll tell him myself."
The rest of the evening went smoothly, some of the soldiers speared down a haunch and started carving it up as well, halving the line. Zephyr offered to help in the butchery, but was shouted down by Keller to the mixed terror and confusion of the survivors. I managed to locate the clerk who had first found us, and sat down on the log next to him. His mouth was full of meat and some kind of brown noodle, his eyes widened and he almost choked getting it down. "Ah... hm. Excuse me," he coughed "I didn't notice you there. Wasn't, exactly."
"Relax," I offered him my spare waterskin to wash it down. "Just wanted a chat. The rest of my gang are busy, and it's been a long time since I've been able to talk with- with anyone else."
"About...?"
"Anything! This has all happened so fast," I waved my hands around at the bonfire and the sizzling carcass and the night. "You do know that the five of us are just making it up as we go along, right?" I turned to look at him. The expression on his face wasn't fear, exactly. A close cousin, perhaps.
"I... I didn't know that. You have all, done a very good, job?" I gave him a smile at that, but it didn't seem to assuage his feelings. "I, well." He seemed stumped for a moment, darting quick looks at me and back towards the bonfire. "That's John, the chosen of Her Radiance. I mean, obviously, look at him! And of course that's Alaxoria, she looks just like what people say, and that must make you, Lady Susan. Right?" I gave him another smile.
"Yes, I'm Susan. Yes, I'm that Lady Susan. Just, it'd be best to forget all the rumours. And all the stories you've heard. I started each and every one of them myself."
"All of them? All of them? Even the-"
"Yes. Even that one. All of them. It was necessary at the time, believe me, I wouldn't have made such a mess of my social calendar without good reason. But you seem to have the advantage of me, Mister...?"
"Oh," he wiped a greasy hand on his formerly-white shirt, and put it out to me. "The name's Berkeley, but my friends call me Mackerel." I shook it, carefully keeping my eyebrows composed. "Well Mister, Mackerel, it has been a delightful chat, but I haven't had anything to eat since I last overthrew a tyrannical monster, so I shall woah," I staggered as I stood, the fire-lit canopy swirling around me for an instant. I wasn't feeling hungry. "I'm, I'm alright, thank you I can stand just fine, I think I'll just get some food and sit down again. I shall take my leave of you, Master Markaral. Mackerel. Good evening." For some reason I felt like bowing, but didn't think I could manage it.
The heat of the bonfire went right through me as I approached the busy circle, the night had grown cold without my noticing it, and I shivered in my armour. Would all these families make it through the night? Plenty of our charges were old, injured, infirm, or all three. All of them had good hot food though, that's what counted. I hoped. John waved me over, bounding brightly to hand me a bowl full of well-charred regal boar. My mouth watered at the scent, it was incredibly rich, practically dripping with its own gravy. Keller came around to join me, already chowing down. I picked up one of the weird brown noodles...? "One of the foraging teams found an entire thicket of wormgrass," explained John with absolute joy. "Mostly unpalatable by itself, but the flavour of the regal boar will overpower the taste. Mostly." Ah, the wonderful chefs that necessity makes of all of us. Alaxoria finally sat down, she was spattered all over with grease and looked as exhausted as I'd ever seen her. She ran her hands through her shaggy mane of hair, and let out an irritated grunt. Pig blood had gotten into it, clotted, and tangled it into a complete mess that moved as one mass. She looked like a blood-cult priestess, but perhaps a newly initiated one, one who didn't know which way the arteries sprayed. Keller finished slurping down the rest of the wormgrass "noodles" as I started eating. They didn't taste much of anything, but they did gave you a sensation that whatever you'd just eaten was about to turn. Still, the slice of regal boar was just barely cool enough to eat, and even the charcoal bits were delicious.
Alaxoria stood, wandered over to Keller, and flicked her head so her entire mane of hair flopped forwards. "Barber, my usual coiffure" said Alaxoria, putting on a High Citadel accent, giggling a little. Yes, giggling. I know. Keller, who had somehow avoided getting any meaty grease on his hands, put down the acorn bowl and placed each hand on the hilt of his two sheathed daggers. There was a flash of reflected firelight, and the lump of filthy hair fell into Alaxoria's waiting hands. She shook her head, the lopsided remains of her cropped hair springing up, and gave Keller a grin. Zephyr had done a great job, you could barely tell which of her teeth had been jammed back in just this morning. "Barber, an acceptably excellent job. I shall let you live another day," Keller bowed, his daggers had somehow stayed in their sheathes the whole time, while Alaxoria lobbed her shed lump of hair underarm into the bonfire. It went up in a sheet of yellow flame amongst the whirling red, and sent a cloud of pungent smoke billowing over everyone. It was a mix of burning hair and incense, in eye-stinging proportions. Huh. John and Keller laughed, Zephyr swooped in to join us, and like that, the entire camp turned to watch the five of us.
----------------------------------------
I was the only one still eating, but that didn't matter at all. After surviving the fall of the citadel, and eating an entire giant pig together, the atmosphere felt a little like the middle of a festival. The sky was dark, the fire was bright, we all had friends and family around... that was enough, it seemed. John stepped forward, backlit by the bonfire, armour gleaming, sword sheathed by his side. The people didn't need to know the sword was broken, it didn't matter: John was a knight, sworn to uphold the pact the Dawnbringer had made with mortals in eons past. Sworn to protect them until the sun returned.
He strode back and forth while I finished chewing, speaking of dignity, neighbourly bonds, a spirit of community that remained unbowed. I kept looking at the bones of the regal boar. They were cracked and stained, pulled out during the feasting and left in a great dripping heap by the bonfire. It seemed a waste, surely they could be put to good use? Then again, I'd spent all day carefully apportioning out broken crockery and tangled rags for use with my spells, so perhaps my judgement was a little skewed.
"So much has been taken from us," said John, almost quietly, but his voice was heard clear across the campsite. "So much has been lost, so many people, so many homes. But some things can never be taken from us. Never!" Cheers broke out across the clearing, jubilation mixed with desperation. John let it roll back and forth, while I stepped up next to Keller. I could only see the side of Keller's face, and that cast into shadow from the bonfire, but I could practically hear him furiously thinking. Surely, this was going about as well as it could?
"Tonight, we are fed, from the incredible efforts of my good friend Alaxoria." said John, gesturing to one side. Alaxoria flexed one muscled arm and grinned at the crowd, who laughed and clapped back. "Tonight, we are protected from the spirits of the wild, by my wise friend Zephyr." Zephyr hovered around above John's head, a blue spectre. There was polite applause, and some quiet talking amongst the survivors. "But most importantly, we have each other. We are all stronger together. Where one may fall, the many will carry on. And carry on we shall!" John kept talking over the cheers "Tomorrow, we will travel back to the citadel river, and join with the army, or perhaps the church. For the army is not the barracks, and the church is not the cathedral. It is the generals, the princes, the deacons, the people! We are together, and we are strong, and with a great leader to guide us, we will rebuild and retake what we have lost!"
A murmur went through the crowd, bounced from one side of the campsite and rolled back, a wave that grew and grew. The crowd started to cheer for John, John! John! But he waved them down. "I'm no leader. I'm not a deacon! I may know the Dawnbringer's words, but I have never heard her speak. I'm not even a priest in her church."
"But you must be somewhere near the top." said someone from the crowd, and we all laughed. John laughed along as well, a little forced.
"Maybe so, but, I'm a warrior. I am the Dawnbringer's sword arm, not her crown. We need to find a general. A leader. Someone in charge. Someone?"
Suddenly, John was in the middle of the forest, surrounded by strangers, with nothing but a broken sword to his name.
"Or, or perhaps one of the archmages? There will be someone. Someone must have made it out of the citadel."
Keller called out to him, a hissed name, but John just stood there. Keller stepped forward and grabbed him, spoke a little louder, perhaps too loud.
"John. John! Listen. John, it's us. There's only us left."
"We're in charge."