Somehow, she had a feeling they hadn’t been.
King Eldrich walked to one side of her, Lyana Mori to the other. The king’s hands were shaking, his eyes bulging in disbelief as he took in the scene.
“I don’t believe it,” he said. “She did it. Celestia banished them.”
“Where did they go?” asked Lyana.
Laurel swallowed hard. “I don’t know, Lyana. I don’t know.”
Together, the three of them crossed through the area where once the portcullis had stood. There was a rotten stench in the air. The only sign that there had once been a wall and portcullis here was a single onyx lion, its rear half pulverized. Laurel shuddered and turned her head away from the thing. Lyana’s hand slipped into hers. King Eldrich cleared his throat.
“What do we do now?” he asked. His voice sounded far away.
“We keep going,” she told him.
Countless eyes turned to them as the trio walked onto the bloody cobbles outside the destroyed castle wall. A group of men decked in bloodied armor stepped aside, allowing them to pass. One among them Laurel recognized-Malcolm Gregorian, the scarred former Captain of the Palace Guard. Malcolm’s good eye shimmered with tears as he looked at Laurel, but there was no recognition in his gaze. The large man turned away, his massive sword strapped to his back and a pair of black blades dangling in his hands. He shook his head, looking just as lost as the men around him.
Laurel passed them by, allowing herself to patiently look upon the area where the battle had taken place. Corpses were everywhere-men, women, Wardens, and horses-grotesque reminders for those who’d survived the ordeal of what had just passed. She wondered if any of them were Pulo or Moira, or any of the other poor souls she had grown to love over the last year of her life. Whether they were or not, she knew that if they weren’t disposed of soon, this area would be nigh uninhabitable. Such a cold way to think, she thought. It was obvious no one shared her feelings. The people simply milled about, slowly breaking out of their stupors. The wounded were treated. Wardens, themselves appearing weary and mystified, knelt before those whose injuries were most dire, seemingly without care for which god had spawned them. Laurel looked on as a soft yellow glow rose up from one of their hands. The blood-drenched Warden stared at his fingers as if shocked that this should happen. Another Warden, a towering sort who walked with his head held high, leaned over his brethren and offered reassuring words. When he stood, the comforting Warden looked Laurel’s way and nodded. Laurel returned the gesture.
A great murmuring could soon be heard, a thousand whispered conversations happening at once. The survivors began gathering in small groups. It was difficult to tell who was who, what with all as drenched in blood as they were. Laurel wondered if the men out there knew one another, or if they were simply looking to the closest person to them for comfort. She shrugged and walked on.
Farther along the square, as the street leading to the South Road narrowed, Laurel found a small cluster of Sisters gathered before the front stoop of a coin lender’s store. Their wrappings red and heavy, they had their arms around one another as they sobbed. Laurel held out her hand, halting Eldrich’s and Lyana’s progress.
“Why are we stopping?” asked the king.
Laurel put a finger to her lips and watched.
The men who walked down the road paid the Sisters no mind, wandering mindlessly toward the main throughway in a steady stream. Some tugged injured horses behind them, the only things of true value left on the battlefield. Only one individual, a woman, seemed to notice the Sisters. The woman took a pin from her hair as she weaved between the ambling men, and out fell a nest of red-blond curls. Laurel had never seen hair that color in her life aside from the poor girl who had once hung from the castle wall. A woman from Paradise, she thought. The red-haired woman approached the Sisters and knelt in front of them, placing her hands on the backs of the two closest to her. The Sisters turned to her, and allowed the new woman to join in their embrace.
“What are we watching?” asked Lyana.
“Healing,” said Laurel.
The woman from Paradise leaned back from the embrace and faced one of the Sisters. Her head tilted to the side, and she smiled sadly. Reaching up her hands, the woman began undoing the wrappings around the Sister’s head, slowly revealing a shock of auburn waves, a pair of light green eyes, a thick nose, and full lips. The girl uncovered was young, thirteen at the most. The redhead leaned forward and rustled the girl’s hair before placing a gentle kiss on her forehead.
Behind the two, the rest of the Sisters began removing their wrappings as well.
“It’s symbolic,” she told King Eldrich.
“What is?”
“The removing of the bandages. They represent servitude. Once they come off, the allegiance to Karak ends. Look.”
She pointed toward the meandering crowd. Now that the Sisters had uncovered their faces, the men drifted toward them, offering embraces and sincere words, comforting them as they would any other.
“They’re allowed to care,” she said. “It doesn’t matter if they are from Veldaren, or Felwood, or Gronswik, or Omnmount, or even Paradise. It doesn’t matter which god created them. They are hurting, they have lived though a nightmare, and they require comfort. The gods be damned.”
Lyana gasped.
“I would watch your tongue, Laurel,” said the king.
“Why? We have no reason to any longer.”
“But we don’t know where the gods went. They might come back.”
To that, Laurel laughed. “You heard the goddess. They aren’t coming back.” She waved her arm out toward the departing masses. “And everyone knows it. We feel little because we turned our back on our god long ago. But these people? They fought for their deity, were willing to die for him. You can see the pain of loss in each of their eyes. They’re alone in a world where the gods once walked among them. As are we. Faith will be given new meaning now. So will what it means to be human.”
“Karak got his wish after all,” whispered Lyana.
Both Laurel and the king looked at her.
The girl continued, her tone childlike and timid. “Karak always said he wanted us to be free. That he wanted us to think for ourselves and make our own way.” She looked up at Laurel with pleading eyes. “Do you think he meant for this all along?”
Laurel’s heart broke for her. All she’s suffered in his name, and still she loves him.
“Who knows, Lyana?” she said. “Perhaps he did.”
It was the easiest lie in the world to tell.
King Eldrich squinted and stepped off the bloodstained slate walk. “And this peace. . do you think it will last?”
“No,” Laurel replied, sidling up beside the drawn-out man and slipping her arm into his. She didn’t fail to notice the way the king’s breathing hitched when she did so. “The shock will pass, and life will go on. We’re human. We err, we fight, we cheat, we steal, we kill. We’ll do just as we’ve always done, only now we do it rudderless.”
“And what of Paradise?” asked Eldrich. “Ashhur is gone as well, which leaves another rudderless nation in our midst, one that has been ravaged by war.”
“I think Paradise is the least of your worries, my Liege. There is too much to accomplish here.”
The king nodded solemnly and faced the departing mob. The weary soldiers greeted him with esteem as they walked by. “And what do I do?”
“You go among them. You talk to them. You inspire them. You’re the king of this land, no matter who it was that named you. And with no one to pull the strings, no one can rightly call you a puppet.”
“I don’t have the tools, Laurel. I don’t have an army. I don’t even have a castle.”