Chapter 49.
I was only about three-fifths done with the basic slime, and already I was far too visibly… full for my liking. I paced around the courtyard nervously, told by the healers whatever the nun equivalent of fuck off was. Galine was being seen too, and so were all the other injured.
The air still smelled of smoke, though all had quieted down. I watched as the survivors from the battle outside the castle wall funnelled into the gate still barred by the portcullis. Some walked, many limped, and a few were carried. They were still somewhat less numerous than when they had come in heroically. They had lost people, but they had won.
The exterior portcullis thumped closed behind them hard, and a moment later, the interior one began to crawl open. More nuns rushed forward to tend to the injuries as best they could. It was a gruesome, bloody sight.
The barrier had been firmly erected, a shimmering lens as far as the eye could see above the wall. A roof of a prismatic glimmer. The castle was magically defended; it would have to be, or else the whole castle thing wouldn’t do much good. It was at least a relief to know we were safe, for now…
I watched the mages pacing back on top of the castle, several dressed in Academy robes. I could make out the Agocester Academy of Arcane Arts. Though it was little more than a pillar of black smoke rising high into the sky, soon to be utterly burned to the ground. The town was destroyed; we may have lived, but the town was in ruins.
And what of those who hadn’t been quick enough to make it to the castle?
What even was this? The war was supposed to be in the north. Why had this happened? Who had even attacked? Who was that damn woman with the leashed monster? I had so many questions.
I had finally gotten a glimpse of the famous Lord Grosswin. He was an old, thin man, dressed in armour that he hardly looked sturdy enough to be wearing. He was flanked by guards and several other… people. He was nodding seriously as advisers whispered in his ear from his perch on the castle steps. He was joined by the three knights, though one sans horse.
Was the monster dead? Must be. Either dead or… fended off for the time being.
Jesus Christ.
“Candy?” I asked weakly. “How’s the dungeon?”
“Still doing its thing,” she replied. “I will tell you if it is damaged.”
“I know,” I sighed. I was just generally worried and anxious. “Thanks,” I muttered.
“No problem!” Candy chirped happily. Like a dog getting a treat, so eager and yet oblivious to the carnage around us.
I shook my head, staring up at the smoke. Why now? Why the fuck couldn’t things have just continued as was? I had been… getting there in terms of contentedness, but fuck! First war… somewhere, and now… here… fuck!
Every time I blinked, I could see the bodies. I could see Galine’s broken leg, the pooling blood flowing through cracks in the stone, the sounds of the desperate begging, the cold eyes of the woman on the horse. I tugged at my hair, trying to wrench myself back to the present.
This was all fucking horrible.
Unable to wait any longer, I hurried back into the great hall to find Galine. The nuns who were supposed to be tending to her were gone. She lay there alone, sprawled out on the hard floor. I rushed to her side, dropping to the ground beside her.
“Hey,” I said nervously, looking her over.
“Hi,” she mumbled, seeming a little worse for wear. But her leg looked better, bandaged as it was; it no longer… dangled the way it had.
“Did they fix you up?” I asked hopefully, scooting over to lean against her side.
“Yeah,” she nodded. “They aligned the break and used magic. I’ll be back on my feet properly in a few days.”
“Okay,” I smiled. That was good news; that was extremely good news. I felt almost jealous that there were proper doctors and healers here to fix her leg while Frida had amputated my arm as a last resort. If only we hadn’t been in the middle of nowhere. If only Frida were a better healer.
I swallowed my grimace. That wasn’t fair. She had kept me alive. She was a surgeon back when surgeons were tradesmen, but before they became fancy, specialized doctors. She was a field medic, and she kept people alive in dangerous situations. I was alive. And yet… if she were better at her job, if any of them had been, I might still have my arm.
I shook my head, trying to get rid of the bitterness and focus back on Galine. “Do we have a few days? What is going on?”
Galine sighed. “No one is really sure. But it’s probably safe to say the Duke of Hator is behind this. I didn’t recognize the general with the demon. But some here are whispering the name Sir Malle, though I don’t know the name personally.”
I frowned. “But why here? I thought the Duke of Hator was marching for the capital?”
“I don’t know,” she grimaced. “Perhaps this is a distraction to split the king’s forces. Perhaps it was a targeted attack for political reasons. A lot of powerful families have children who attend the Academy, or… had, depending on how things have gone.”
“Fuck,” I muttered, digging my nails into my palm.
Galine rested her head on my shoulder. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”
I nodded. “Thanks,” I mumbled, my tears catching me off guard.
Galine wrapped her arms around me and held me tight. “It’s okay now,” she whispered in my ear as I cried. “We’re safe.”
“People are dead,” I croaked out, snot-faced and bleary-eyed.
“Yes,” Galine agreed remorsefully. “People died. But we’re alive, and we’re far from the only ones. All we can do is keep living.”
“Can they be brought back? Like resurrected with magic?” I asked hopefully. Surely in a world with magic, death didn’t have to be the end.
“No, Pamela,” Galine grimaced. “People can come back, but no one comes back… right. Who they were is gone,” she offered vaguely, despite it being a deeply philosophically horrifying premise.
“What does that mean?” I frowned. I had died and come back to life… in a sense. How was it different for others? Or were there different afterlives? Did they go somewhere else?
Galine hummed, seeming uncertain as to what to tell me. “It’s said the gods gain power from worship, that their followers sustain them. I’ve heard mercenaries say that we are all the same. The dead linger as long as they are remembered, and a soul is never truly gone until entirely forgotten. That's how angry ghosts end up causing a fuss, or… the sounds of the dead… end up wherever they do,” she frowned. “I don’t know,” she admitted, “I’m pretty sure that even the foremost experts don’t really know either. But bringing someone back from the dead, at best, gets you something that resembles a person.”
I let out a stuttering breath, easily distracted by such a puzzle. How did that work? Both in raising the dead and also in… their seeming corruption. I clung to the puzzle to avoid thinking about the horrors. Of our situation, of the wreckage and violence beyond stone walls that no longer seemed so impenetrable.
It wasn’t working. I didn’t have enough pieces to get lost in the puzzle.
I wanted to go home. But there was no home to go back to, no Earth, no outpost, no leaving the safety of the castle. Galine was the closest thing I had to home now. I clung to her even tighter.
“Promise me you won’t die?” I asked weakly.
Galine smiled. “I’ll do my very, very best.” She nodded.
“Okay,” I mumbled, resting my head back on her shoulder.
“Lie down,” Galine coaxed me, patting her lower horse shoulder.
I shook my head. “I’m fine.”
“Come on,” Galine smiled gently, “you’re exhausted.”
With a sigh, I lay down; I was too tired to protest. Galine ran a hand through my hair soothingly. I let out a deep breath, finally feeling a little safe pressed against her. Even if it was being spooned by equine legs. This wasn’t how we had cuddled before, but I felt safe. Like I could hide beneath her from the dangers of the world.
I didn’t sleep. I kept my eyes wide open. I knew what I would see if I ever closed them.
That meant I was wide awake when they announced the impending arrival of the rest of the invading army coming from the east.