Page 52 of Angel in Absentia
Bodies of Venennin lay in discarded heaps, clean, even cuts laying them in piles outside a cracked throne room door. She suspected Dae’s work, the bodies huddled in close quarters as if felled by one enemy in close proximity.
Shrieking continued inside the throne room, the stench filling the hallway as the rotted bodies now reeked with true decay. She sprinted through the door, shoving it open through the corpses. She cut down a Venennin startled by her entrance. A second lunged from the side. She spun, light coalescing into a shield on her hand. The impact crackled. Her counterstrike was swift, decisive.
She saw Dae past the second Venennin just as he felled the last two remaining and collapsed onto a column, sliding down and bracing against wounds that rotted through him.
His eyes widened at the sight of her and then he looked to her right, and Clea spun hurriedly in case it was an enemy. In the ensuing silence, she saw only the depth of the city’s devastation.
The vaguest sounds of fighting still echoed in the distance, but even that calmed into the silence in her mind as she witnessed her father’s body, hunched with a bloodied neck. He was dead. He’d collapsed back, and Clea spotted the open door behind him. They’d been attacked on both sides.
She stifled the flow of any thought or feeling, pushing both from her as she rushed to Dae and hoisted him up. His breathing rasped, mouth bubbling with a mixture of dark red and black infection.
She pressed her hand to the mass on his chest, a cut that had evolved into something atrocious, and she healed him. The wound was not an easy mend; Dae lost consciousness before she could finish the act.
She was relieved to find him breathing at the end, cutting herself short as something slammed into the door outside. She whipped up, grabbed her sword, and drew it in the direction of the door before an armored Veilin stumbled through.
She met his eyes before several other Veilin funneled in after him. The silence was profound, not needing words. They stared for a moment, then she lowered her sword and stalked toward the door.
“We need to move,” she said, catching the eyes of the other Veilin, standing with the backdrop of blood-spattered doors behind them. She looked at the group that now scanned the rooms, absorbing the terror of the onslaught.
She gave orders if only to distract their eyes, delegating to each group individually. “Break up into pairs, scour the castle, vacate the hallways, and start an infirmary,” she demanded, and then looked to the first Veilin soldier who had entered. She pretended she was Dae, captured his essence like an actor. “Take a team to the east to dispatch any remaining Venennin. I’ll cover the western side. We meet back at the central courtyard with survivors.”
The Veilin nodded, and they both moved swiftly back into the halls. By the break of dawn, teams had formed, hunting down stragglers and combining forces. It became clear in a matter of hours that the attack was done. Her voice rose over the crackling of fire and the cries of the wounded. “Scout the walls! Post sentries at each vulnerability! Stay in teams!”
Through the smoke and ruin, soldiers without leaders began to cluster. Orders were repeated in waves until the city was mobilized, groups coming to her for new waves of orders, the structure of the army rebuilding itself around the absence of key leaders.
The rest of the work was gruesome and toiling. Bodies were quickly gathered into piles, rampant fires were doused, controlled fires were started, and the wounded were transported away. The morning was fast and long. At last, Clea found Catagard unconscious in one of the makeshift infirmities. Taking the briefest moment to sit next to him in the tent, Clea shared with him what she’d learned as if offering an official report.
She spoke to his silent form, the bustle in the distance moving like a river around the tent.“Fillip was killed in the initial onslaught,” Clea whispered hoarsely, glancing at her dirtied hands, blood and ash leaving a ghastly crust over her skin. “Ivy, along with her house of renowned warriors, fled with the queen into the woods to protect the legacy of Loda. Ignat went with them, and Dae stayed behind to fight with my father. We still haven’t found Yvan. It’s taking time to untangle the chaos.”
For the first time, she had a moment to pause, looking out at the courtyard and multiple infirmaries where healers, most inexperienced, tried to tackle one wound and then the next. Clea had mended some herself before she was pulled away to direct soldiers who had no one else to go to.
“We’ve removed all Venennin from the city,” Clea said to Catagard emptily. “The infected bodies are being burned. I’ve elected several key soldiers to rotate in as leaders.”
Silence. Catagard breathed haggardly, his face looking pained, even in his unconsciousness. His chest had been bandaged, the wound cleared of infection, but he had yet to wake up.
“We have civilians funneling supplies to them and scouting the streets for more survivors. The worst cases are being brought to the healers. All breaches have been addressed and are being actively guarded. All posted soldiers have been given a means to communicate if any sign of the enemy is spotted.”
Before she could continue, a scout she’d sent out returned at the edges of the tent. Though her body burned with exhaustion, she stood and met him outside. Her eyes beckoned for the report in the silence, Clea refraining from using her voice any further unless circumstances demanded.
“The castle is secure,” the scout said, body vibrating with exhaustion and the lingering effects of panic. “The deep dungeons are empty. Broken shackles remain on the walls.”
Myken had escaped.
Clea had suspected as much, the Venennin likely revived by the inpouring of cien that accompanied the invasion of the Ashana.
The scout continued, not knowing the significance of the vacated dungeon. Sounding hurried and nervous, he seemed to race toward the final proclamation that he had also inspected the front lines.
“You should come and see for yourself,” he said, swallowing.
Too tired to object or inquire further, Clea nodded, glancing one more time back at Catagard before consenting to what she knew would be another tour through a landscape of horrors.
It didn’t take her long to get to the front lines. She stopped at the base of the walls with the scout and several other Veilin. Some boards and wagons were already hauled up to bridge the gap and form a half-standing barrier about thirty feet short of what had once been an arch over the wall.
They stared at it for a moment and then began working their way through a small opening to access the battlefield outside.
“Yvan and a portion of the army were guarding the eastern flank when the Ashanas threatened to break through. These Venennin were strong. Several morphed into massive beasts who could sweep several Veilin into their jaws with one bite. It’s like nothing I’ve ever seen,” the scout recounted and told the storyof how the battle had unfolded, as far as he knew. He paused halfway through when they stepped onto the battlefield outside.
The ashy horizon was interrupted by towers and sculptures of ice. Clea walked forward, the scout treading close behind as she followed her senses into the carnage. Speech was lost as their boots crackled over the frozen earth, taking them into scenery of vast, icy spires, melting in the dawn sun.
