The Way We Fall

Chapter 42 (Tigris)

TW: d3ad bodies, descriptions of corpses

It took an hour of deliberation, but they found an isolated valley just past the closest village that would be safe enough to set off the object of power. It was a day's ride out. If they left immediately and made no breaks, not even to gather weapons or food, they would be able to make it in time to avoid Leinos' estimated time of the curse reaching the city.

They came to the silent agreement that Tigris would ride with the object of power. It probably made sense to have Roche carry it, considering that she had passed the test, but Tigris didn't want the burden of the object's power to be placed on anyone else. She'd carefully explained how volatile it could be, how it could enact the user's will instantly. She'd made the executive decision to carry Roche's satchel, letting the barrier of the thin leather hold her fears at bay.

She rolled her shoulders back. She was a knight. And the heir to the throne over all. She was used to holding the power of life and death, of impossible choices in her hand. She had to trust that she could keep her mind strong enough to hold any disasters at bay.

There was another reason, of course.

You now know the curse this object brings. Let it guide you. Do not fail us again. The librarian had intoned. Tigris kept her face nonchalant as she mounted her horse, a skill perfected by years spent serving in court.

Her heart ached for her father, almost childishly. Good gods, father. Is this what you deal with every day? All alone, a crown atop your head, with the power to raze the world in your hands.

How do you stay sane?

How are you not a monster?

Tigris kept her gaze straight ahead. If anything, her respect for her father had skyrocketed. It was a pity she wouldn't be around to apologise for her inexperienced, brash remarks from earlier.

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They rode into the village as the sun set. The air was still, like the world was holding its breath.

They stopped at the edge of the courtyard. There was a crunch as Roche's horse accidentally trampled the first body.

Roche made a choked sound. Tigris couldn't muster any emotion apart from weariness as she stared out into the sea of bodies. They were fresh, newly felled. Their eyes were glassy, faces twisted with various expressions of horror. Tigris felt nothing but numbness as she noticed a child sized hand sticking out of the pile.

"What happened here?" Roche gasped, sounding faint.

"The curse," Tigris answered, her voice sounding hollow to her own ears, "It's passed through here."

"Are we at risk of catching it?" Finn asked, his voice warbling. Roche frowned at him.

"Probably not. We have the source of illness with us. It can be used to protect us." she answered.

"NO!" Tigris blurted out before she could stop herself. Roche nearly fell out of her saddle in surprise, her warm, doe-like eyes wide with fear. Tigris winced. "I mean... we probably shouldn't risk using it."

Roche nodded hesitantly. They lifted their tunics over their mouths and noses to pass through the city. It wouldn't make a difference if they caught the plague anyways, the object of power would be gone by tomorrow and they'd be cured.

Their horses walked across the bodies like they were a bridge. Tigris made herself watch as her horse's hooves stamped down on the bloated corpses beneath her, their flesh denting and bones cracking under the pressure of her weight.