by Laura R Cole
*
Natalya stood in the courtyard waiting for Queen Layna with butterflies in her stomach that had nothing to do with the prospect of another transportation spell. Though the nausea that traveling in such a manor was not at all pleasant, it was nothing compared to what awaited them on the other side.
She had made contact with Hunter as he had made her promise, and had grilled him about everything he knew about the massacre of her hometown. She found it hard to believe that he had known all along, and was still angry at him for having kept it from her. If she hadn’t promised to contact him, she may not have been able to bring herself to speak to him again.
He had apologized profusely for keeping it from her, but said he hadn’t known how to bring it up. When he had spoken to Queen Layna, she had insisted that she be the one to break the news to her, so Hunter hadn’t told her before he left as he had apparently planned to. Once it was in the open, he told her in as much detail as she wanted, the entirety of his experience. Including having witnessed the death of her father. Natalya could barely listen as he recited to her what her father had told him. But it was strangely comforting.
Her whole town wiped out. Little Rion cut down after watching his mother be stuck through. She had recognized the significance of the stuffed bunny in his story immediately. The child never went anywhere without it. Natalya had even had to fish it out of the river once when he had wandered too closely to the rushing water and it had been pulled down with the current. Luckily, she and Alina had been close by and she had been able to get it back for the wailing child. The sun had dried it out, though Natalya felt that it always smelled a bit like fish after that. She smiled sadly at the memory. She hoped he was playing with his bunny in a better place now.
Perhaps Lord Morven had done them a favor by taking her sister. If he hadn’t, they both may have been similarly cut down. Though they also may have been able to save their parents and their friends. Natalya broke out into a cold sweat. Layna had said that bodies that were able to be positively identified had been buried, but others that were still awaiting a name attached to them were being magically preserved until a family member or acquaintance could tell the officials who they were. Some had been too badly burned or mutilated to be recognized by any, and only the personal effects found on the body could help identify them.
She couldn’t imagine looking at the dead body of her parents, or Darryl. Tears sprung to her eyes. She wasn’t just mourning the loss of her parents, but the loss of everyone she had ever known in childhood.
At Layna’s approach, she steeled herself for the transport. The woman had promised her that they would appear outside the town so that Natalya could enter at her own pace. It did not provide her with much comfort.
After the now-familiar tugging sensation, the landscape around them blurred and changed. Natalya felt a sudden rush of home-sickness which was made all the worse realizing that she would never again have a home to go to. It was gone.
She closed her eyes and took a few breaths, both to calm her roiling stomach as well as get a grip on the tears that threatened to escape before they took hold. Once she started crying, there would be no stopping it. When she opened her eyes, she could see the outline of the town. It looked peaceful. As they drew closer, however, signs of the horror that had gone on there began to emerge. Lines of buildings that used to be straight were now jagged due to parts of them having caved in, or been burned away. Black stains, evidence of fire, marred almost every wall. She gulped and paused a moment. Layna silently stood next to her, waiting patiently for her to continue on.
She forced her shaking legs to resume walking. They reached the village gates and Natalya had to pause once more. She stared straight ahead, afraid to look around her.
She entered the ruins of her hometown with trepidation. She hardly recognized it. The buildings had all been burned – several to the ground – and though the guards had been cleaning up after the attack, she could still see several places in the earth which were stained a darker color. She shuddered.
It seemed so surreal. She made her way down the familiar streets, searching for remains of anything that had survived the massacre; but there was nothing. She stepped over a fallen beam and her foot crunched on something. She bent down to pick it up and tears welled in her eyes. It was a piece of jewelry, a clasp, made with Darryl’s symbol. One that he wore with pride on his cloak.
“May I see the graves?” she asked, not meeting Layna’s eyes. The woman led her silently to where the temple had been, and then around the back. Stones upon stones marked the lives of those who had been identified. She walked up and down the rows, pausing here and there to weep at particular ones that she had known well. Among them were Felix, whom she had bought cloth from at the festival, Etta who had clung to her youth with her husband’s potions, and her parents.
She knelt before her parents’ graves, staring ahead with blurry eyes. If only she hadn’t left, if only she could have done something to have prevented this! Her throat constricted, making it hard to breathe, and she involuntarily let out a shuddering wail.
She felt gentle arms around her and she sank into their embrace, not caring that she was soaking the Queen’s robes. It was some time before Natalya was able to bring her breathing under control and she pulled away, wiping her nose. She looked at the large wet spot she had left on Layna’s shoulder, but the Queen ignored it, giving her a concerned look.
“Are you alright? Should we go?”
“No,” Natalya said, sniffing, “I’d like to see the people you haven’t identified yet. They deserve to be recognized if I can.”
The Queen simply nodded and moved to enter the temple. She paused at the door and looked back at her. Natalya squared her shoulders and took a deep breath, forcing her numb legs to march forward. She had seen a dead body only once before, when the old lady that lived at the end of their street had died in her sleep. She had been tagging along with her father while he made a delivery, and they discovered her in her bed. She had looked almost peaceful and Natalya had thought her to be only sleeping. When she had failed to rouse at her father’s voice, Natalya had placed a hand on her arm. The cold hard flesh was a feeling she would never forget.
She walked into the large room, where she had spent many days listening to the priests’ sermons on the Three. Now, however, it had been transformed into a morgue. Bodies lay in the pews, gentle blue light encasing them. The state of the bodies was nothing like the serene scene in the old woman’s house. Wounds crisscrossed their lengths, some were missing parts or were badly burned. All had some tell-tale sign of the horrors that had gone on here.
Natalya sucked in her breath. Layna squeezed her hand and she held onto it tightly. She took a few moments to compose herself before approaching the first body.
It was a man she knew only vaguely, and could only remember his first name.
“That helps,” the Queen assured her, “we have lists of people who were thought to be here and are missing, so we can narrow it down.”
She moved onto the next, but it was so blackened and peeling that Natalya couldn’t tell if it was even a man or a woman. She shook her head.
After a few agonizing identities, she came to stand before the body of Darryl. She was granted a small favor that his body was devoid of wounds, save the bloody hole in his chest where his heart was.
“He died quickly,” Layna whispered behind her, apparently sensing her increased discomfort.
She clenched her teeth together and flared her nostrils as she inhaled. “This is my friend, Darryl Elsworth.” She reached out to stroke his cheek. It felt devoid of anything, an empty shell that had once housed a friend. But now only a reminder to the living of what they had lost. She fished out the clasp she had picked up on the street and closed his fist around it.
“Will they bury him with it?” she asked over her shoulder.
&
nbsp; “I’ll make sure they do.”
Natalya forced herself to look at every single body and though many were people she could not name, or who had only been visiting and she had never lain eyes upon, every one that she did give a name to gave her another bit of peace. They could be laid to rest.
When they exited the morbid building, Natalya breathed in the relatively fresh air outside, though still tainted by the acrid remains of the flames.
A wagon came rumbling into the square.
“What is that?” Natalya asked.
“Those are Charles’ wards. Most lost their parents to King Nathair, either through his draft of the war or as punishment for defying it. People in the capitol were hit hard by his influence. Charles hopes that by bringing them out here and having them rebuild the town, they will learn that they can do something other than beg in the streets. City life is much different than out here, and without experiencing it yourself, people tend to assume that there is nothing else out there. No other way to live.”
Natalya watched as the children jumped off the cart, and was surprised by their subdued tone. The bubbly natures they had displayed when she and Hunter had first visited Charles were gone. It had been easy to overlook then that these children had all gone through something horrible, but the respect they showed revealed just how well they understood the misery.
One of the smaller children spotted her and waved unobtrusively and Charles followed the boy’s attention. As he caught sight of them, he made his way over looked down at her awkwardly.
“Don’t know what to say…” he stated gruffly.
One of the children had followed him and she moved forward, wrapping her tiny arms around Natalya’s waist. She looked down at the little girl in surprise. A boy joined her, his arms tightly gripping them both and pulling them all together. And then another joined in, and another, until Natalya was encompassed in a mass of children. She caught a tear in one’s eye and hers watered of their own accord, welling up in sadness, but also in the overwhelming sense of comfort that these near-strangers had given her. Her tears coalesced and flowed freely from her, sharing her grief with these children who had all known their own hells.
The moment didn’t last long, but the warmth it left on her heart gave Natalya a glimmer of hope that she could recover from this. It wouldn’t be the end. She watched as the children dispersed, following Charles’ barked orders to begin the reconstruction. None of them complained nor shirked away from the work. All of them had lost everything, but had not let their tragedies rule their lives.
She set her face into a mask of determination and put this behind her. There was nothing she could do to change the past, no matter how much she would like, but she could still save her sister. She just needed to focus on the future and on things she could change.
She caught Queen Layna’s eye and nodded. She was ready to move on.