Rathiel hears the clamor of the crowds before he can see them, and smells them before he can hear them. The press of bodies somewhere beyond the walls must be incredible then.
Smoke no longer lingers in the sky, though faint pillars continue to rise from smoldering embers only to dissipate in the gusts of wind that bring the stench of the survivors his way.
He works his way through the rubble, extending his senses to find any signs of life trapped within the walls. Unfortunately, there were several dozen dead, though for what little it was worth they died quickly. The initial explosion was so violent it killed those closest to it in less than a second. After the explosion, most people had it in their right mind to run.
Looking up at the castle, Rathiel clenches his jaw. It was a foolish mistake, a moment of panic and fear that drove him to do something he never thought himself capable of, a moment that now resulted in the deaths of people who didn’t deserve to die.
This was his fault, as much as it was Casper’s. The only thing to do now was to try and make it right, and hopefully save more lives.
Casper was on a warpath, one that would stop for no one. He was too consumed, and while Rathiel was to blame for the outburst, to think that Casper was only one mistake away from decimating an entire city was more than enough reason to see him as a significant threat.
The smell continues to drift past his nose, somewhere beyond the walls, beyond where he could see, and he knew that it was only the first signs of further disaster.
Launching himself into the sky, Rathiel ascends above the walls, to look down at the hundreds upon hundreds of people gathered outside the city walls. Some scavenge around the city, those brave enough to risk further collapse. Most gather in tents, makeshift camps, lining up for meek rations served by exhausted guards.
Rathiel could smell more than the sweat and dirt and refuse, he smelt the first signs of disease, that sickly sweet smell of infection, and blood. It would only get worse if they continued like that. There was no possibility of rebuilding an entire city, not with the sheer volume of damage.
These people needed somewhere to go, somewhere to be safe, someone to guide them to that safety.
Rathiel knew he needed to stop Casper, but he wouldn’t do that at the cost of these people's lives. Furthermore, he needed to warn the king, to prepare the capital for what was to come.
The capital, that would be the place then...
Descending from the sky, Rathiel lands among the crowds of newly made refugees.
He squares his shoulders, and takes a deep breath, trying to keep the mild embarrassment off his face as their rising gasps and cries crash into him like a wave, a wave that only seems to grow.
“Rathiel!”
“He’s come to save us!”
“Rathiel, heal my baby please!”
“Will you help us?!”
Their voices rise, begging and desperate. It breaks his heart.
“Of course.” Rathiel extends his hands and allows the divine warmth to wash over him.
Mothers with their children grab for his hands, grazing him, and with just a faint touch their bodies are healed. Men with broken bones and burns on their hands try and force their way to make contact, but Rathiel calms them, extending his wings, and raising his voice.
“Please, be calm, I will heal all of you, please do not force your way to me, allow me to come to you.” His eyes soften, and wings extend further, allowing the feathers to ruffle against those around him.
The crowd parts for him, creating lines on either side of his body. Rathiel walks, his hands outstretched to either side, touching the people around him as he walks.
The power granted to him by the gods was incredible. It was so much more than what he had come to be used to, so much more than he knew what to do with.
Over the course of an hour, the cries of desperation turned to sobs of relief. He healed the people until the sun reached its peak in the sky.
Reaching the end of the line, Rathiel turns around to see that everyone was still facing him, gathering around him, eyes wide and full of life, full of hope.
Smiling, he took to the sky once more, and looked out over the fresh, smiling faces. He tried to look at each one, take in their features, remember them, and truly see them the way they needed to be seen.
“Brothers and Sisters,” Rathiel starts, raising his voice loud enough to be heard by all. He waits a moment for their murmurs to quiet, which doesn’t take long. “Each and every one of you has suffered, you have all lost, and you have all been healed.”
A small cheer rises, claps sound, and a couple of whispers ripple through the crowd.
“The destruction to your homes is irreparable, with the front so near, I dare say it is only a matter of time before those who seek to harm us are upon us should we stay. They will hear of this destruction, and they will seize this opportunity.”
The cheers take a sharp turn, descending into terrified gasps.
“But fear not... so long as I am with you, I will see that you all are safe. The man that has done this to you, the marked, Casper, seeks to destroy more, and I intend to see that he is stopped, but to do this I must warn the king.”
Confusion now, about where all this was going.
Rathiel was never great at giving speeches, at least he never thought so. He was much more of a doer. Speeches were for charismatic leaders, rulers, commanders. He was none of those things. Rathiel knew himself, and he knew he was nothing more than lucky. Lucky to have been given power, and born with a desire to help others.
He felt like an imposter, speaking to these people. He felt a fraud with every word, but this was the kind of thing people needed to hear he supposed.
“Join me, and I will lead you all to the capital, you will be safe inside their walls, I will see you are housed, and fed. I will warn the king of the coming storm, and together we may all not just survive the wrath of the marked, but beat him together.”
A cheer rises, slowly at first, then builds to a deafening chant, a chant in his name.
Rathiel remains floating for a moment, allowing them to praise him though every muscle in his body wants him to hide away from all of their hopeful looks.
After the cheers die, Rathiel speaks up once again. “We leave tomorrow, please, use this time to gather what you can salvage from your homes. I will join the guards in aiding you all. Let us bury the dead, and be ready to venture forth at dawn.”
If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.
Rathiel listens to their claps as he drops back down to the ground. He walks through the crowds to join a gathering group of guards near the walls of the city.
Several salute him, but he dismisses it quickly. “Please, there is no need for that.” he chuckles with a fair amount of embarrassment.
Soon the crowds filter in, guided by himself and the soldier. From noon till dusk he aids them. Lifting roofs off of buildings, hauling away stone, putting out lingering fires, and restoring corpses so that their bodies may be identified.
A wall is created with names of the missing, and as dusk turns to night the wall is bare as bodies are found, and added to what will be their final resting place.
He was impressed by how quickly chaos can turn to order, so long as people are given a little direction. How much hope they can have, when given a leader.
“You need a break?” A voice sounds from beside Rathiel as he helps guide the body of a young boy into a hole in the ground.
“I will rest once everyone else has rested.” Rathiel grunts. He had superior endurance, strength, and durability, but even this was starting to grind him down.
His body was still freshly revived, and he had been using more power in a single day than he had used in his lifetime before this moment. All of that aside, the mental toll was immense.
Hours of consoling the survivors, speaking with people, guiding and directing guards and volunteers. He would do it all again, but he had to admit he was on the brink of passing out already.
“That's very noble of you, but if the people see you ground down into nothing it might affect morale,” The voice admits.
Rathiel turns to look at who the voice belongs to, only to instead find a mug of ale pressed into his chest from a young farm boy.
“What's this?”
“Ale.”
“I know it’s ale, but what for?”
“For drinking.” The boy winks.
Rathiel chuckles and takes it, sniffing the contents.
“Worried i poisoned it?”
‘No not really, just checking to see how old it was.”
“Does it matter?”
“Not really,” Rathiel admits with a shrug, and downs the content in a single gulp, relishing in the faint burn and fruity aftertaste.
“I am serious though, if you work yourself too hard it won't look good.”
The boy looked serious, though a playful twinkle in his brown eyes made the serious tone land a little easier. He must have been around 16 years of age, though he was yet unmarried. His hands were hard from years of labor, his cheeks gaunt from months of poor diet, with an aura of confidence often only seen in the noble caste.
“What's your name?” Rathiel asks, tossing back the mug once more in case any lingering drops remain.
“Matthew Miller”
“A pleasure to meet you, Matthew.” Rathiel shakes his hand.
“The pleasure is mine, and you don’t have to lick up the drops. I got some more for you if you'd like.”
Rathiel looks inside the empty cup, then back to the working guards.
“They have all been on shifts, you are the only one who has been working all the way through... take a moment, have a drink, you will need to be well rested in the morning if you are going to be leading this many people to the capital.”
“You’re wise beyond your years Matthew.”
“Thank you.” the boy smiles.
“Show me your stash then.” Rathiel chuckles.
He allows himself to be led through the masses, replying to their thanks, grabbing their hands as they extend them, healing several more people who had become injured in the recovery efforts.
The camp was already winding down it seemed. Families packing their bags, several farm hands helping load beasts of burden retrieved from the unimpacted farmhouses on the outskirts.
Eventually they reach a small site near the edge of camp, where several other farmers have gathered. Barrels of ale are open and their contents poured into mugs for the guards and laborers winding down for the night.
Matthew pours another mug for Rathiel, and then one for himself, before sitting down on a log next to a large fire that offers a fair deal of warmth in the cooling night air.
“This is Orion and Hansel” Matthew introduces the two other individuals nearest to him. The first, Orion, is a tall, spindly-looking young man with long brown hair and practically no chin. Hansel being the exact opposite, a brick wall of a teen with a blocky head, strong jaw and no hair at all.
“A pleasure to meet both of you.” Rathiel offers his hand, which both enthusiastically take. He tries to recall their faces from the crowds and recalls having seen them all taking on a more active role in the recovery efforts. Each one of them had ascended to some leadership positions as they directed groups through the surrounding farm houses.
If memory serves, Orion was a stable hand, who had been working to shoe and saddle up the horses and mules. Hansel was something of a repair man, ensuring the carts, carriages and wages were repaired and in working order.
“Thank you all for your hard work today.” Rathiel sips his drink and smiles. “Truely, I appreciate you.”
“Course.” Orion nods.
“No problem.” Hansel smiles back.
“We directed to have the animals all gathered on the flanks here,” Matthew explains, pointing off towards a section of paved road, where Rathiel notices nearly every animal is located. “The oxen are over to the left, I figured it would be beneficial to have the horses and mules pull the wagons we have and act as mounts for the elderly and children. The oxen are nearer the city so they can haul the heavy supplies as beasts of burden. The two roads converge just a little further north into the king's road which can take us directly to the capital.”
Rathiel whistles, it was exactly what he would have done, he just didn’t think he could have organized it all on top of everything else.
“Incredible work, that's perfect.” Rathiel chuckles. It was a relief to have all of that already done. This boy really was impressing him.
“We have a count from some of the guards on the survivors as well, unfortunately, we don’t have enough mounts or wagons to help everyone who needs it, they may have to take turns.”
Rathiel shakes his head. “We can remove some of the items from the oxen. Several nobles have taken to gathering more of their material wealth than they need. Helping the people is our number one priority. They can stomach the loss of a few chests and goblets.”
The group of farmers look to one another and smile. “Understood, if you would like I can speak with the guards about that tonight.” Matthew offers.
“That would be perfect.”
Several more drinks are had, enough to make the notion of sleeping on hard ground without a tent a bit easier to stomach.
Before Rathiel knows it, the starlit sky is replaced with the colors of sunrise and the shifting of a waking camp.
Stretching, he notes that Matthew and the others have already gone. Orion is helping assist those in need into the wagons near the road, Hansel is chesting up next to a rambunctious nobleman who refuses to part with a portrait of himself, and Matthew coordinates groups, gathering individuals into smaller caravans.
Rathiel lies himself into the air to watch as the three farm hands take an incredible amount of control. He notes that he should reward them in some way for all of the extra help they are offering.
It's not long before the entire collection of refugees are ready to go, and waiting on Rathiel.
Taking in a deep breath, and raising his voice to the masses, he addresses them all.
“The journey before us will be long, but know that I am here to help you along the way! The king's road will take us directly to the capital. I will keep you safe, I will keep you healthy, I will keep you fed, and I will keep the peace.”
The group cheers, their eyes on him, making his stomach turn with anxiety.
“Matthew, Orion, and Hansel are names you all likely know by now, they have helped me greatly thus far, and I would ask them to continue to help me moving forward, please bring concerns or issues to them as well.”
The three named men turn to regard Rathiel, who gives them each a nod, one they enthusiastically return.
“Let's move!” Rathiel calls out, and while still flying, begins to move forward, waiting as the refugees follow behind him.
Soon he would fly ahead to scout, but for now, they needed to see him, everyone needed to see him. A beacon of golden light even in the middle of the day, a beacon that hopefully would bring those who suffered hope and those who lost a promise for a new beginning.
Looking down at Matthew, a wave a relief washes over him as he leads the groups, guides them. He was lucky to have them, these otherwise unknown faces rise to the occasion.
Rathiel wondered how many more people would rise from this, make names for themselves, become leaders. There was no more nobility among the ranks, not really. Nearly everyone was equally poor, especially since Hansel forced nobles to leave their wealth behind so women and children wouldn’t have to walk.
For a brief moment, a pang of guilt pierces his chest. Guilt and realizing that the destruction caused by Casper is what created this. In the ruin of the city, the caste of society had reset. Everyone was looking to one another to survive.
No, there had to be other ways, what Casper had done was wrong, it was evil, monstrous even. He was simply searching for a silver lining in tragedy.
It was still his responsibility to warn the king, speak to the council, get aid, and stop Casper.
Looking out over the horizon, he couldn’t see where the king's road ended. It was too obscured by rolling hills and clusters of trees. All of this was a risk, and he knew it, but it was a risk he needed to take, a risk required to save lives.
He would stop Casper, he would prevent him from turning the whole world to ash. He was the only one capable, he was the only one who had the strength
He hoped...