COF 6: The Last Oracle

17 | Was (II)

Xanthy watched the throng of injured people filing in inside the gates. Too many...

June squeezed her hand that jarred her into remembering that he was still there. She sighed and hugged herself to stop her arms from shaking. This was too much already.

The rain had killed more people than the flintlocks did. As the surviving soldiers slowly made it inside the fortress, guilt piled high in Xanthy's gut. It grew and grew until she couldn't breathe properly.

She had to lean against June as they stood shoulder to shoulder by the gates, looking for potential attacks which might take advantage of their retreat. It was a quick battle today as the Sovereign appeared on the battlefield and left just as fast.

Xanthy's heart beat faster. Her stomach tied itself into knots. She watched Reeca, the sprite heirs, and Geradine hurry past the gate, each drenched with blood and not unscathed from the effects of the poison rain. They needed to see Nyxis immediately.

Speak of the Queen, Kyric, the messenger from the infirmary, plodded towards them, a grim look on his face. "Message from the infirmary," Kyric said even though everyone knew where he came from. "Head healer Nyxis collapsed due to fatigue and sleep deprivation. The healing process is therefore stunted. Rest assured they will get back on track soon."

Xanthy nodded her confirmation. The guilt only blossomed in her chest. Her friend had pushed himself to his limit. That didn't put Xanthy at ease.

"Hey he's going to be alright," June's words were as hollow as the vacant look most of the soldiers in the fortress now have.

Xanthy didn't reply. Her thoughts already roiled in a way she couldn't stop. Strain from the past days and the weight of the friends she lost bore down at her shoulders. Could she take more? She left it to the gods to know.

Then, as if on cue, the gates to the outer quadrant began closing.

"Wait," Xanthy stepped forward to caution the soldiers manning the gates. "What about Marthiaq?"

The men looked at one another then back at Xanthy. A quarter of a minute's silence.

"He...perished, miss," one of the men spoke up. His light brown hair shuffled as he shoved his hand in it. "He didn't make it back from his mission to assassinate the Sovereign."

Assassinate the Sovereign? Whose idea was this? Did Marthiaq—

Perished. That's the word the man used. A word Xanthy learned to hate over the course of the war. Perished.

Marthiaq. Perished.

Dead.

Xanthy was already bursting through the center quadrant, aiming for the command tent, before she could think about what she was doing. Reeca stepped into her view and, upon seeing Xanthy's face, was wise enough to get out of Xanthy's way.

Xanthy threw the tent flap back to see Geradine, Eldan, and Airese gathered in a close circle, discussing.

"You killed him," Xanthy hissed. June appeared at her side after some time, closing his hand on her arm. Tears streamed down her face in a steady torrent, Her stomach had already knitted itself into a tight square. "You killed him."

Geradine stepped forward and crossed her arms like it was simply a matter that they could stop discussing because it's over. "It was Marthiaq who proposed the plan."

"Don't talk about him like that!" Xanthy yelled. Her voice echoed in raw bursts around the tent. Was. It only reminded Xanthy of the truth she refused to accept. "Don't..."

Her knees shook and her world spun. She wanted to throw up. This wasn't how it's supposed to be. "He couldn't have..." Xanthy breathed. Her heart was already a marred vessel inside her. It was too much. Too many...

"I'm so sorry, Xanthy," Airese said as softly as she could, edging closer with her fingers lit orange.

Xanthy scampered back, almost kicking her mother's hand away. "Get that away from me," she pushed herself up. "Leave me alone."

With that, she ran the rest of the way to her tent. She didn't reach the bed as her knees gave way and she collapsed on the ground. Propping her head into her hands, she let the grief consume her. Completely.