Page 240 of The Call of Crimson
My hand throbs, but I know it would be so much worse if not for the adrenaline fueling me right now.
“Let’s go,” Darian says, motioning for us to continue east toward the edge of town.
We make it there with minimal issues.
The number of bodies grows as we near the border. It’s not just males and soldiers now. We’ve found the earliest victims ofthe attack. I send up a prayer to the Goddess of Life and Death that there are no children amongst the fallen.
Ahead lies an expanse of open field separating the town from the forest that lines this section of the border.
“If they’re still alive, they’re in the forest,” Darian says confidently.
From what we had seen on our way here, the majority of their forces seemed to be focused in the north of the city. I don’t dare let hope rise in me that I haven’t seen any Fae in the last ten minutes. I just beg the gods to bless us long enough to find the refugees.
We dart across the field, attempting to keep low so as not to be seen. Cillian would be incredibly useful right now.
Somehow, we make it across safely, not a single arrow in sight. We throw ourselves behind a cluster of trees, letting them shield us from view just long enough for us to catch our breath.
I cocoon us in darkness well enough to keep us hidden amongst the trees. “Stick close to me.”
Stealthily, we creep, being careful to make as little sound as possible.
We find the refugees, but we’re too late. They lay piled in a heap of what must be at least fifteen people.
I bite back my emotions, distancing myself from the pain in the way I must to get through this battle, and drop the shadows around us.
“I’m sorry, Breyla,” Darian says.
Gently, I move the bodies on top, searching the faces for those I might know.
I don’t immediately recognize any of them, meaning they most likely weren’t from Ciyoria. It doesn’t make it any easier seeing the bodies of my people, innocents, piled high in a mass grave.
I will mourn them later.
Just as I move to close the eyes of one brown-eyed female, a hand shoots out from beneath her, grasping my wrist.
I jump back with a scream as the bodies begin to shift. The obviously dead ones fall to the side, revealing several very alive faces.
Faces I know.
“Breyla?” Nameah’s mother asks as she crawls from the pile of bodies.
I nearly cry in relief that not all my people are dead today. “What are you doing here?”
“We came seeking refuge,” she explains. “Rimor has crumbled, and the people are starving.”
The rest of her remaining children, with the exception of the eldest son, crawl out from beneath bodies. They’re blood-stained, covered in dirt, and more than half-starved, but they’realive.
“I know,” I say, guilt dropping my shoulders. “We’ve been sending food, but everything gets burned before it reaches the people who need it. I’m so sorry.”
“Just as I don’t blame you for Nameah’s death, nor do I blame you for this.” She takes my hand, squeezing it firmly. “But I do request your aid.”
“Of course. We’re here to help.”
“How many of you are there?” Darian asks, eyeing the pile of remaining bodies like one of them might start walking.
“Including my family, seven total,” she replies. “When they attacked, we fell back, deciding it wasn’t worth it to cross the valley.”
“We used the bodies of the fallen to hide,” one of Nameah’s sisters says with a shudder. “Gross, I know.”
