Aftermath

Commander Kayne and his men searched the area without finding any other clue. Fred was constantly scanning the rises and dips among the boulders, the road, the scraggly brush. He could still find no sign of Timon. After gathering some pertinent items, Kayne ordered a return. 

"Yet what of Timon?" asked Fred. 

"It is pitch black, our torches do us little good. His body is not among the fallen, we shall look on the morrow." 

"You shall look tomorrow," said Fred flatly. "I shall continue now." 

Commander Kayne eyed Fred with questioning eyes. "Your concern is far from light, man-at-arms. I give you a quarter of an hour more, then we shall go. Your honor shall not put my men's lives in danger." 

The next fifteen minutes was spent looking for any clues... for anything. Fred searched farther and farther from the scene of the attack. A soldier of the Keep kept up with him. It was but a stone's throw from the assault that Fred found something; and it gave him the shivers. "What is that?" asked the soldier. "It's....it's a pack of gambling cards." The soldier grunted in disgust, he did not understand the significance of it. Fred did. He palmed the leather packet and twisted the only card remaining flip, flip, flip, there was only one card flip, flip, flip all were gone but one flip, flip, flip the Queen of Clubs. His eyes, augmented by the unseen magic in the helm, saw that the card was not unscathed; it had been scratched at, clawed upon.... a series of tears and punctures. Fred knew that there was a message here and he knew it meant that Timon was dead. 

Then the Commander called the party back home. 

"No,no,no,no,no,no,no,no,NO!" cried the youth. He sat upon the stone floor, leggings soiled from urine and feces. The attendants had tried to clean him, but he kept dirtying himself. He was but one poor lad, among the many that had seen the bright green light. By the time that the Commander had returned there were only enemy warriors with staves and pikes crawling all along his beloved Keep. Yet in the beginning there was a green light, and all who looked into its depths suffered a paralyses that seemed to come from purest evil. The youth kept screaming, he couldn't help it, he had seen the light and it had seen him. The only good thing was that the cries and screams seemed to be lessening now as the sun was dawning. The bodies of the slain soldiers (few if truth be spoken) had already been moved to the funeral cordon; the bodies of the enemy had been heaped outside the walls. 

Fred woke with a start; he had slept but little. The Commander had not slept at all (his duties could've been allotted to his seconds, but he would not have it so). Rowena was still asleep, her dreams were troubled, but at least she slept. 

"Graiiiiiigh!" yelled a man from some doctor's cell not far enough from the Chanticleer's room. He got up, dressed himself and walked out. The sky was still grey, torches still burned affording the light they had given all through the crazed wee hours. The southern man usually ambled his way to any breakfast he could find, but not this day. He walked purposefully towards the refrectory, his nose attempting in vain to stave off the foul scents of maggot blood, while sniffing out the cooking fires. His nose failed him, it allowed the foul to enter – his eyes failed him as well. He was high on a third level and he could not help but see the burning fires outside the walls. He couldn't help but notice the rambling forms of soldiers below and above, some with vigor, others who looked half-dead. And his ears failed him worst, "Aiiiiigh! No, no, no!!!!!!" came scream after scream. Finally he made it to the refrectory and the sight, sound, and smell of food. 

Rowena looked at the Commander and his seconds. She wondered what they would inscribe upon their logs of this last night. What words would they use? 'Blood', oh yes, there was plenty of that.... 'grief', she could feel it in the sighs of the ladyfolk.... 'ill-omen', indeed, she was afraid that she and her brother both would be seen as the cause of this calamity. Then she shook her head. They did not know the real person of 'Denom' and it was only accident that this happened when they had been here. 

"....Go now," continued the Commander. "Go to your lands and remember us well. These days are evil as you well can see. Speak to your High Families and His Majesty himself on our behalf. Remember our comfort to you in our time of distress." 

Rowena wondered at his composure; at how he could speak these words in the midst of death. In a sense he had failed his Keep. He had left it and then Death came within. Yet even if he had been here when it had begun, she was sure that he could not have stopped the half of it. 

Only minutes after the Allarian Lady, her man-at-arms, and the merchants had left, Commander Kayne returned to his hall with his seconds, and their advisors. They all sat in silence for many moments. Then the eldest spoke: "The trouble be gone now," he said. "If'n the stones be true, we shall have time to build up anew." "If the stones be true," said Kayne. "Damnations all! What the hell happened here?!!? Never in all my life did I see the men run and scream, and with nothing but empty air!" And there followed much angered and saddened discourse. 

For hours the troupe had followed the Tumbar in complete silence. The mountain pass was now heading downward and they were assured that they would be out of the Shreken by nightfall and resting at the last of the keeps, the northern hillbase of Calamden. But for now they trudged along on their horses, pulling their carts. 

Finally Fred spoke. "Wen," he whispered. "What was that last night? What happened?" 

She looked at her brother and almost wept. She could barely stand to recall what he so wanted to know. "You came when only the brigands remained. In the beginning, though, there was someone else, or something. We, I...the Chanticleer and I were in the tavern when the screaming began. We stayed within while the soldiers took to their duties without. The enemy did...something...to the soldiers....something that was....was....horrible." She began to sob and Fred drew his arm about her, while keeping the other firmly on his reins. Then she continued. "You had only to fight the men. You and the Commander and the others who went out into the night. But when it began, there was an emerald flame that swept the Keep. Praise the gods that we stayed inside!" She began to cry yet again, the Chanticleer came closer to them and finished her story. 

"Words there art not," he began. "To speak of the sneer that slithered on the face of fear. We saw the soldiers running hither and thither; their swords drawn and cleaving at nought. We heard the screams as they grew louder and with each we sensed that death was sought. And so we fled still deeper to safer rooms, together we stayed while the walls shivered with booms. And there we were until a soldier-servant came, and found us huddled behind a lion's mane. That is all we know, for by then you had joined the show." 

"It was no show," grimaced Fred. "Those poor men were being slaughtered as if they were children or simpletons. They didn't seem to be the trained soldiers of the Keep. It was only the skill of Kayne and the search party that saved the walls from being breached asunder." 

Then they quieted and the journey continued anew in silence. Each had there own thoughts, each their own memories. No one knew what would come of that night, the consequences of if all. No one could foresee how one soldier would be affected, how another would change, or how many seasons it would be until...until the flaring again of the emerald flame. For the time being all that they knew, and all that mattered, was that Fred and his sister were on their way towards Allaria; the next stop would be Calamden Keep, and then the plains of Gelda, and then –the gods willing— home. 

1. the Last Keep 

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