by Matt Rogers
Chapter 43: Impossible Thoughts
Epilogue (Castle Nirvana)
They knelt in her presence as was the custom.
“Your Majesty.”
“Please rise.”
They stood to their full height and squared their shoulders for she was their sovereign, they her loyal subjects and the castle safe from siege.
“Please, tell me what you saw.”
They were of two minds, two hearts, two beliefs.
“The enemy’s forces have fled, Your Majesty. The Elfin’s blasts too much for even Blight’s command to hold” Hawkeye responded.
The beasts had been unaware of what transpired. One moment everything was calm. The next, the entire encampment engulfed in flashes of flesh-rendering, eye-popping, nose-searing explosions. Everywhere they looked, everywhere they ran was tranquil one second and a mass of debris afterward. It was the unknowable which sent them to flight. It took only a few, only those who found sudden disintegration unpleasant, for the others to follow and lumber, lope or shuffle away at whatever top-speed they possessed.
“And Blight?”
“We do not know, Your Highness. The last we saw of him he was being led away by Elvin.”
They’d lost sight of the Prince when he entered the encampment proper. Their last vision of him reminded them of a prisoner, not one who led. They waited for the next question, the one they knew she would ask, the one they were loath to answer.
“And General Shield?”
The look in her eyes, the knowledge of something unpleasant which needed verification, almost brought them to tears. They knew, all knew, she loved them all but loved him as no other.
“I am sorry, Queen Mother. We are sending out a search party but I believe he is gone.”
The look in her eyes, the knowledge of love lost, brought emotional rage to Longshot. He wanted to end them all, kill every last one of those who’d brought her misery. He couldn’t, though, not at that time because the forces responsible had fled.
She bowed her head in grief.
“We do not know it for a fact, Your Majesty” Hawkeye allowed.
She looked at him with eyes so blue he found thought difficult. He held comfort in the fact he saw a less sadness with his words. Words he spoke truly even if he believed them naught.
“You do not know?”
She asked it of both but Longshot replied. He too found it impossible to comprehend because the amount of destruction, the overwhelming chaos brought about by the Elfin, was still resonating in his mind. He thought it impossible for any to survive if they were near the center, near the nexus, near the pit where an explosion of tremendous force emerged.
“No, Queen Mother, we do not. We were unable to identify individuals but both of us believe we witnessed the General enter combat near the pit.”
“You saw him?”
“Yes, we believe we did.”
Her next question was honest and sincere. A final prayer, a sliver of light, a desperate plea for a lasting hope.
“Do you think it possible he survived?”
The question was difficult for the one who once was the Mongrel. He’d never lied to her, never spoken a dishonest phrase and believed in his heart he never could. Her eyes changed everything. She truly did believe in miracles.
“It would appear impossible for any to survive, Queen Mother, but I’ve learned from experience if anyone can do the impossible it’s General Shield.”
She smiled her thanks for words she needed to hear. They had the time, they would scour the land, they would move mountains if need be for she needed the truth, she had to know whether her fondest hope, her greatest desire, still remained alive. But while they did so she knew of another fact which must be faced.
“Councilor Clearview?”
“Yes, Your Majesty?”
“Set about making plans to defend the realm. Send out messengers to alert our allies. Refortify every position and send out word to all; we have won this battle but the war goes on. We will need all of good heart, all of faithful mind, to repel what comes next.”
He nodded and left to fulfill her orders.
All were of similar thoughts, similar minds, except one: the one who asked what all wished to know.
“Queen Mother?”
She looked upon her tiniest of subjects. Possibly the last of his kind.
“Yes, Tweedleword?”
He gazed upon her with eyes shadowed with sorrow.
“What’s coming next?”
And she returned his gaze with sadness of her own, issuing words dreadful to hear.
“King Rot is on the way.”