“I’ve heard horses scream like that before when you cut their throat,” Ref snickered, finding the thought amusing.
Gharland ignored their conversation, still trying to get information from the escaping soldiers.
“Who is in charge?!” Gharland repeated, growing angrier by the second.
Another soldier stopped at Gharland’s request. “We don’t know, ser,” he said shakily. “Lieutenant Jania commanded the forces, ser, b-but he’s dead. Spear straight through the heart, they say. The Akurai attacked us by surprise! Broke straight through our defences.”
The soldier was pushed away in the other direction by the panicked crowd of refugees. Gharland kept leading his company through them, the fleeing people parting around them like waves around a rock.
Another soldier came through, shrieking with fear and shaking, his armour drenched with blood. “They’re b-burning the town! They… they…”
“Pull yourself together, soldier,” Gharland said.
“They threw the children down the wells! I saw a babe ripped from his mother’s arms. Tossed like scraps. We ran. We had no other ch-choice! They come for us next!”
Tomas had to cover his mouth to hide his gasp. Rilan’s eyes became teary. Everyone’s throats tightened and heart sank at the awful revelation of the massacre occurring.
Captain Gharland decided it was best to avoid the town and continue heading east towards Mooncrest Mountain. There was nothing they could do for these people. They had their objective.
Tomas was fidgety on his horse, following at the back of the company. He felt conflicted. It was hard riding past people who were escaping their hometown, people who needed help, and seeing their homes becoming engulfed by wildfires in the distance and being unable to offer any help.
The crowd of refugees grew larger as the company progressed down the road in the opposite direction. Some wept, some wailed. Few carried any belongings with them.
They had barely escaped with their lives.
Through the wall of people, Tomas spotted a small boy, no older than ten, walking alone. His clothes were shredded, his face was covered in soot. The boy looked like a ghost- pale as moonlight, eyes staring blankly at nothing. He floated, one foot in front of the other with no clear direction before him.
Tomas knew not what had happened to the boy, whether he was an orphan before the invasion, or had just lost his family.
Did he have any family left?
The rest of the company did not give him a second look. He was yet another evacuee in a sea of helpless people. They kept moving.
His body was stiff, his hands trembled.
Tomas reached into his saddle bag as the boy approached him. He handed the boy several strips of beef jerky he had received in his rations but had not eaten.
The boy took it without saying a word, stared at the jerky, and then turned back to look at Tomas as his horse continued with the company.
The boy’s lips were parted, as if he wanted to speak, but couldn’t. He was speechless, breathless, probably still in complete shock. He just watched Tomas with empty eyes.
Those empty eyes.
※
The next day, the peaks of the Creator’s Fist were rising from the horizon. A welcome sight after weeks of travelling to and from the most barren parts of the Broken Coast.
The moons rose in the night sky as the day ended, sending ghost white light cascading across the rugged mountain range of the Fist, illuminating their snow-covered peaks.
One rise stood taller than the rest. It was Mooncrest Mountain. The gargantuan mountain rose from the pine forest highlands of the Darkwood, its steep, vertical peak textured with deep crags, white snow, and broken boulders, miles in the sky.
A far way off near the top of the mountain, Tomas could vaguely spot the top of a shimmering surface of glass and steel sticking out between the peaks and gullies of the mountain’s craggy slope. An enormous man-made structure in amongst the largest structures that nature provided.
Tomas knew it was the famous dome of the Grand Repository. It was only a tiny section that was visible, but it gave Tomas a good feeling. They were nearing their destination.
Finally.
Gharland paused to look at the vista. The Captain nodded with pride as the company traded words of relief that they were getting close now, not a few days out.
Tomas thought he saw some form of a smile on Gharland’s face, but it disappeared too fast for him to be sure.
“We will make camp here for the night,” Gharland announced, breaking the cheers.
“You heard the Captain,” Britus shouted. “Get a fire going and set up the Captain’s tent, now! Let’s go!”
The company dismounted at the entrance to the Darkwood, in a dirt patch surrounded by rocky outcrops beside a wall of towering pine trees that marked the start of the forest.
A huge pine tree had fallen some time ago, its thick trunk landing against one of the boulders and creating a natural wall to offer some protection on one side of the campsite. The wood of the fallen trunk had grown grey and was beginning to rot.
“Squire!” Gharland called.
Landry hopped off his horse and bolted over to the Captain, taking the reins from his hands, and leading the large mount over to a small tree trunk to tie up.
Gharland walked off around one of the boulders to relieve himself in a bush, while the other soldiers settled their horses for the night.
Ref and Styna took out the tent roll, ropes and spikes to set up Gharland’s tent, keeping wrathful eyes on Tomas and Rilan the whole time. Other soldiers grabbed hatchets and found some kindling and logs scattered around to chop up for firewood.
Tomas and Rilan jumped off their horses, Rilan nearly collapsing from the numbness in his legs. Tomas’s thighs ached and his hands were sore
