by Katie Zaber
General Saiden doesn’t like my plan, but he doesn’t disagree. He marches away to find someone he can yell at since he can’t shout at me. Ern and Gena come to the door, both wearing sturdy boots. Gena holds a wreath with tiny blue shamrocks and a couple of sunflowers with green centers. A burial wreath.
“Let’s be quick,” I tell Manadhon as we follow Ern and Gena onto the mud trail.
Chapter Twenty-Six - Megan
Ern takes us down a path past the forest line into a heavily wooded area. Surrounded by the trees, the ground is less muddy. Some areas are partially dry compared to the road. Strong pine trees grow out of the sandy ground. They look so similar to the ones from the Pine Barrens. The ashy brown bark isn’t smooth, but it has thick plates with sap running through, encasing insects and making amber. Above our heads, twisted limbs sprout branches full of green pine needles and fist-sized pinecones.
“It’s a longer walk this way through the forest, but parts of the fields are knee deep. The normal paths are gone,” Ern says.
“What did you grow?” I ask.
“Root vegetables, patata, carrots, peppers, corn, tarins, squash. The soil is special here, or was. Certain crops thrive in the loose soil. Gives roots room to grow, but isn’t fertile. We fertilize the ground and run irrigation to keep the crops healthy. Same process every year for centuries. Don’t know why the sudden change.”
“How well do you know this area and the surrounding forests?” I ask.
“Like my home,” Ern says. “As a kid, I explored every inch of these trees, every cave. I know each lake. I know where the best water holes are for freshwater fishing, which inlet is the best to catch crabs, and where to find clams. I have walked all the game trails and know the best hunting grounds. I know my land.”
The forest reminds me of woods where I used to play manhunt. Where I built tree forts and pretended I was an explorer charting new territories. “I grew up in an area similar to this. Pine trees grew out of sandy dirt and the beach was on the edge of the forest.”
“Do you miss it?” Gena asks.
“Every day.” No wonder Father bought a house in Seaside. With the forest in the backyard and the ocean in the front, it was the best of both worlds. A perfect place to call home.
I’m glad Ern knows how to live off the land. I assume most of the townsfolk can. So if things turn sour, which they will, at least they can fend for themselves while traveling to safety. Gena hums softly while picking wildflowers along the path and weaving them into her wreath. They deserve to live, to prosper in peace, not to be threatened by ones whose job it is to protect them.
Wails. Screams. Cries of anguish hit me like a wave, almost knocking me off my feet.
“Do you hear that?” I turn my head in every direction, but I can’t tell where the cries originate. Ern, Gena, and Manadhon stare at me confused.
“Hear what?” Manadhon asks.
“Nothing. I thought I heard something.”
We continue to walk the solid path to Bayvillage, and the whole time I hear screams. Shrills. It sounds like someone is torturing hundreds of people. Countless voices combine into a blood-curdling chorus. My head pounds, pressure builds behind my eyes. Manadhon keeps glancing at me suspiciously. Can he sense the headache? The feeling of hopelessness overpowers my senses as tears flood down my face. I sniffle and try not to sob. I feel like I’m in desperate need of help. Manadhon places a hand on my shoulder. I shudder and come to a stop, but I won’t turn to face him.
“What’s wrong?” he asks in a hushed tone.
“I don’t know.” I wipe my face with my sleeve and he hands me a handkerchief with a single yellow flower on each corner. “Thank you.” After I dry my face, I refold the handkerchief and hand it back. I’m grateful Ern and Gena have quickened their pace. They don’t turn or notice, to my relief.
The trees have thinned out. There are no more bushes or shrubs, or any kind of wildlife. It’s an instant change from a forest to a barren landscape. Each step becomes harder to take. I feel heavy, as if I can’t lift my feet to walk. My head teeters on an explosion. I’m on the verge of a migraine.
Twenty feet away are two football-sized fields of black lava. Not hot, red, flowing lava but cooled, black, igneous rock lava. Except it’s moving, but not in any pattern. Gena holds her wreath of scarce flowers and walks to the edge of the tar. There’s no doubt that she’s here to grieve, to put flowers on a grave the size of a town. She could have grown up here, knowing everyone who perished.
Gena drops the flower wreath onto the tar. The second it touches the tar, the wriggling mass consumes it entirely. The black goo engulfs the once colorful flowers. Now, nothing remains. The instant the flowers become one with tar, the screaming I hear stops. For a brief moment, it’s quiet. I take another step forward, only to hear the wails louder than before.
Bam.
I black out. My body goes limp as I fall to the ground. Manadhon catches me mid-drop. His arms cradle my body as he lowers me to the ground. Something hurts everywhere. An indescribable, painful sensation envelops me. My breaths are shallow and my lungs won’t expand, as if crushed by sorrow. Sweat drips down my forehead. I’m so thirsty. My ears are burning from all the cries.
“Princess!” Both Ern and Gena run to help.
Manadhon searches my body for an answer to my collapse, but he finds none.
A soft hand touches my forehead. My vision is too blurry to see whose.
“She’s burning up. Water!” Gena yells. Feet scuffle. A bag drops and then cool water runs over my head, down my face, and into my mouth. “Stay awake! What happened?”
“Screams. They yell so loud.”
“Who?” they ask in unison.
“Hundreds.”
“I need to slice her back to the castle. Tell General Saiden to meet me there.”
“No!” I try to yell, but it comes out strained and broken. “I heard them in the library.”
“What?” Manadhon asks.
“The people. Tar is people or life screaming in pain. What did he do? How do I help them?” No one replies. What are they supposed to say? Hearing screams from a black unknown substance your father makes isn’t normal. No. They don’t know what to say to their crazed and delusional princess. “I want to get closer.”
“No,” Manadhon states.
“I’m fine. Feeling better.”
“You shouldn’t go near it, especially if you hear voices,” Manadhon retorts.
“Manadhon, please.”
My vision returns enough to see the disapproving look Manadhon is giving me. “Fine. If you pass out, it’s straight to the castle.”
“How would I argue?”
“You’d find a way,” he grumbles as he helps me to my feet.
Manadhon braces my right side. Gena grabs my left hand and gives it a tight squeeze. Ern walks behind me. None of them will let me fall. Their support uplifts my spirits, taking the edge off the depression. It makes each stride easier, lighter.
With my vision clearer, the utter destruction shocks me to the core. Shambles remain of the houses. Some buildings stand, while others have collapsed, but most are tar. Seven lonely structures stand in an area large enough for fifty. Bayvillage was larger than Barne by three times.
We stop five feet away from the tar. This close to the tar, the voices are almost audible. Help, Save us, are the only screams I can understand. They call out in agony. I want to go closer. “How do I help? How do I free them?”
“Megan, no farther. A drop is lethal.” Manadhon’s steel eyes shoot a firm warning like two bullets.
“I know, but I want to help.”
Gena gives my hand a tender squeeze. “Thank you. They know.”
“How many places are like this? How many people has my father killed?”
“Countless,” Manadhon says with a breathy whisper.
That might be the first personal response he said without contemplation. He stands solemn, his eyes distant and his free hand clenched. Did
my father kill someone he loved? Was it his family or a lover? How much resentment does he harbor toward my father? He shakes his head. The emotions fall off him and his hand unclenches. He notices I saw and looks away.
I want to tell him it is okay. That I’m not mad. I’m enraged at the king. He isn’t my dad. I’ve heard of his horrific onslaught but could never imagine towns wiped off the map, encased in a sticky black death. My father has trapped souls forever in this ooze, and I can hear that they haven’t found peace. How could he do this?
I stare out into the tar wasteland, memorized by the annihilation. “My father’s a monster. I need to kill him.” All three turn to stare at me. Shock, awe, and intrigue wash over their faces. “I can’t let this happen or stand by and let him kill any more innocent people.”
“My dear, you shouldn’t say such things. You can’t kill your father, he’s the king,” Gena says.
“I mean it. I will kill him for everything he has done. I will correct his wrongs. Clean his mess and destroy what he loves.”
“How?” Ern asks.
“I’m not sure yet, but I will kill him. For my mom, Chelsea, friends, and family. For everyone he murdered, for the children he enslaved. I will kill him.”
“We long for your reign, Queen Megan,” Gena says.
My head swivels. I want to kill him, not rule. Both Gena and Ern stand with their heads bowed. They bow to a delirious, mud-covered, halfling who isn’t even from their planet.
“I don’t want to be a queen, only to be free. And he will never allow freedom. This, this is his punishment for anyone who disagrees. I need help.” I turn and face Gena and Ern. “And you need to leave Barne. Lead your people to safety. Find the rebels. Tell them who I am and that I want change. I am unsure of my gift. Hearing screams from the tar is the only thing I’ve ever felt. But it might hold the key to stop or undo my father’s crimes.
“I need to train and learn. I fear I’ll be on the run soon, but I will keep my promise: One day, I will kill him. Until then, I want you and your people to flee when the army leaves. I know the king will tar the town. Find more rebels and prepare. I leave you with a great deal of responsibility and hardship. I hope it won’t overburden you. I hope we can work together to make Paradise Kingdom a true paradise for all.”
“We’ll do anything you ask. Other towns have vacated and moved deeper into the mountains. I heard of a little group forming. We’ll find them. We’ll tell them of Queen Megan, a merciful, fair leader who wants to save us all. A queen who wants to right the wrongs of her father and make Paradise Kingdom a paradise for all.” Ern stands tall, his chin held high with hope gleaming in his eyes.
“I’m not a queen yet.”
“My dear, if people believe in you, you are.” Gena strokes my check, her eyes loving. “Have you ever heard of your Uncle Prince Cillian the II and Aunt Princess Mealla the II? You remind me of them. They were just like you.” She looks mournful, and I don’t think it’s for the people of Bayvillage. What happened to them? “Stay strong and keep learning. One day, my child, you will make a rightful queen, loved by all her people—not feared. I cannot wait for the day.”
I imagine if I had a grandmother, she would be like Gena. Her eyes are full of love, guidance, and patience. I barely know her but feel connected. I don’t want her to flee into the night—I want her to guide me. The little time spent with Gena and Ern, the way they have treated me, has rekindled my hope and strengthened my soul. Even in pain, my head pulsating, I feel better from their words and acts of kindness.
“Thank you. Take this.” I remove my necklace. “This will fetch a high price. Buy food and supplies for your people.”
“Your people,” Ern says, placing the jewelry into his pocket.
Manadhon clears his throat. He’s been quiet. “We should head back. General Saiden will be waiting. I’ll slice us back to the outskirts of town.”
I nod and turn one last time to the tar and whisper I’m sorry quietly enough so no one would hear. Manadhon takes my right hand, Gena my left, Ern holds his wife’s hand, and we appear outside of Barne. Instantly my head feels better. No more screams. No more cries of anguish. Just complete, utter silence. All the pain I felt disappears as if I was never afflicted.
We trudge into the town center. The mud slows down our pace. I explained to Ern and Gena that I still have to punish the town or make it look that way. I told them to look distraught, even terrified. Gena sobs and Ern scrunches his face into a frown.
General Saiden stands with his arms folded in the shadow of a house by the village center. A crowd of soldiers and villagers surrounds him. They have been waiting for our return and our decision on their punishment. He turns to face me with sweat dripping down his brow. “You show them what awaits those who refuse King Taliesin? Who will we kill so we can get out of this disgusting mud hole?”
“I have decided that Ern’s house is big enough to shelter multiple households.” Confusion spreads across the crowd. “I will burn the first six houses to the ground. Give each family two minutes to collect what they can before they are lit.”
Townsfolk scramble, racing to their homes to gather what meager possessions they own. It’s not as if they will need their homes in an hour, but I need them to believe they will be homeless. The general needs to witness me chastise the town, leaving him satisfied and preventing my father from visiting sooner. I need to give them ample time to escape into the mountains.
General Saiden tilts his head. “Why not just kill one of them?”
“Less able workers results in less product. They can rebuild houses, but it’s much harder to replace healthy people.” One minute. I have to count and make this real. Hopefully they will understand and forgive me. “One minute left. Hurry!”
General Saiden nods. Maybe he isn’t a simpleton. He orders six men to light torches and they stand in front of each house.
“Thirty seconds. Leave your houses with your life!” Come on, people. At twenty seconds, all the houses are empty except one. I briskly walk to the window and yell, “Fifteen seconds!” An elderly couple sits comfortably in front of their fireplace, refusing to move. I whisper, “Please. You will live to see your children and grandchildren grow. Leave now.”
“All dead. We want to join them,” the elderly man says without looking, giving his wife a pat on the hand. She takes his and kisses it. Their wrinkled hands fold together, holding each other’s tightly. They are well past their prime, but forever in love.
No. This isn’t the plan. It’s not what I wanted.
“Five, four, three, two, one.” The general finishes the count and the soldiers throw their torches. Smoke grows and curls up from each of the five homes, escaping out their windows.
The soldier in front of the house I stand before watches the elderly couple holding hands. Beads of sweat drip down his forehead as his pale blue eyes shift from the torch in his hands to the house, back to General Saiden, and then to me. He doesn’t want to burn the elderly couple to death, but doesn’t know how to refuse an order from the general, let alone from a princess.
“Last chance!” I yell to the couple.
“Maybe a different house? Give the same two minutes?” General Saiden asks in a hushed tone. Even he knows killing an armed man who can fight differs from murdering a defenseless elderly couple. Even he sees it is wrong.
I look back at the couple. They will never survive the journey. They’d hamper the group and lessen their chances of escape. I scan the crowd. They are the oldest and frailest in the community. Everyone else looks strong enough to walk miles a day. They can’t. Gena finds my gaze. Tears soak her eyes and then she nods a slow yes, a sign only I see. Killing them will aid the group’s odds of survival. Even she knows that.
Without turning to address the general, I stare at the couple’s hands—not their faces. I won’t dare look at their faces. “I picked the first six houses and stand by my word. They don’t need to die, they choose to.”
The couple doesn’t
budge. I turn to the young soldier. Before he can object or do anything, I take the torch and throw it. His eyes bulge as the thatch-covered home envelops in flames. Townspeople yell and cry. People hold others back as some attempt to rescue the couple from the blaze, but in their hearts, they know death is all they will find.
No cries come from the smoldering home. There’s only the crackle and crumble of wood burning. First, the pungent smell of burnt hair fills the air, and then flesh. Neither one cries as they burn to death in complete silence. No whimpers or whines. I watch them die holding each other’s hand. True love. Even in death, they didn’t part. I won’t let tears form. Not now. Later.
For the first time in my life, blood is on my hands. It was my order to burn down their house. My hand tossed the torch. I couldn’t let the boy do it. It would have most likely been his first kill, and it would haunt him more at his tender age. I could have picked another house and given two minutes to the family, but I’d go back on my word, making me weak. Someone who breaks their promises. I can’t say one thing and do another. I’d be a liar. The lump in my throat won’t swallow. All I want is to wash myself repeatedly. Cleanse myself of the day.
When I’m certain my face is expressionless, I turn to Ern and Gena. They both cry, but neither appear angry. They must have known the couple was tired of fighting, of living, and nature hadn’t taken its course yet. The couple had nothing left to live for. I couldn’t tell their age, but they were well past their prime and with no family left alive. The only thing that comforts me is that they died together and they believe they will reunite with their children and grandchildren.
“A lesson for your community. You can’t replant until the mud dries. Look for farming plots elsewhere. My father may come for a surprise visit, but we will be back in a week to tour the areas you find fertile. Until then.”
I walk back to Mem and climb on. This time, no one asks if I need help. They know I don’t. Manadhon and the general mount their horses and follow in silence. The troops follow in line without General Saiden’s order. Ash rains down, blown by the wind. The ash sticks to the sweat on my face. The smell of burnt flesh and hair waft on the breeze. I have never smelled those distinct smells before and never want to again. But I’d be foolish to think the elderly couple are the last deaths in this war. In war, there is always blood, and I must give orders, changing lives forever. No. My hands will never be clean again.