Chapter 24: A Princess?!
After Lisa’s careful explanation finally convinced them that we were indeed not with their kidnappers, she seamlessly transitioned into providing more context about our circumstances.
"We’re from Millbrook Village, just a few hours’ walk through the forest," she explained, settling into a more comfortable position on the ground near them. "It’s a small place, but the people are good. Our village chief, Aldan, has been taking care of our community for decades. We were out hunting for winter supplies when we stumbled into this mess."
I watched her work her magic, noting how she instinctively chose details that would make us seem more human, more trustworthy. She had always possessed this gift – an innate ability to read people’s fears and address them without seeming to try.
While she continued building bridges with our unexpected charges, I turned my attention to the considerably more grim task at hand. The battlefield around us looked like something from a nightmare, and I couldn’t in good conscience leave it that way. Not when it might bring unwanted attention to our village, and certainly not when there were young people present who had already seen far too much violence for one day.
I moved carefully away from the group, each step sending fresh waves of pain through my wound. The wound wasn’t deep enough to be immediately life-threatening, but it was deep enough to make every movement a conscious effort.
Damn it, I thought grimly, this is really going to hurt for a while.
Taking a deep breath and centering myself, I placed both hands flat against the forest floor and reached for my Earth Magic.
With careful precision, I began excavating a pit several feet deep and wide enough to accommodate what needed to be done. The earth moved obediently under my guidance, parting like water and piling itself neatly to one side. The process was slow and methodical – partly because I wanted to be thorough, and partly because each use of magic sent sympathetic aches through my injured torso.
Once the pit was ready, I began the unpleasant task of disposal. Using controlled bursts of earth magic, I lifted each corpse without having to touch them directly – a small mercy for which I was grateful. The bandits’ bodies rose from the blood-soaked ground like grotesque marionettes, soil and leaves falling away as they floated through the air and settled into their final resting place.
By the way I had killed more people in a single afternoon than in my entire previous life.
Did I feel guilt? Remorse? The crushing weight of moral culpability that should accompany such actions?
The answer came to me with startling clarity: Not at all.