The Beginning After the End: Book 7: Divergence

by TurtleMe

  Damn it, I cursed. My patience grew thinner with each passing second. Every scream and cry for help made me flinch, afraid that the next one might be someone I loved.

  Sylvie and I continued on separately. Not once did I find an Alacryan mage amongst the chaos, but that was a good thing. There were no mages to cast shields to protect the beast horde from our conjurers. It seemed strange, but I didn’t have time to think about it.

  Before I realized it, the sun had come up, highlighting the turmoil that stretched out as far as the eye could see.

  ‘What about using Realmheart again to try and find your father like you did with Ellie?’ Sylvie suggested, her voice weary even in my head.

  Don’t you think I’ve thought of that? I snapped. Ellie’s magic is unique enough for me to spot with the ambient mana fluctuations. How am I going to differentiate my father amongst the other hundred or so soldiers that have a fire-affinity?

  There was no reply to my churlish response, though I could feel the surprise and hurt Sylvie felt.

  Letting out a deep breath, I apologized to my bond. The frustration and desperation building up inside me made it hard to tamp down my emotions.

  ‘It’s okay,’ Sylvie assured me. Her voice was gentle, but I could still feel a tinge of sadness leaking through. I promised myself I’d make it up to my ever-faithful bond after this was all over.

  Smoke, fire, debris, abandoned weapons, and the corpses of both men and beast carpeted the once barren field. As limited as my vision was, I kept my eyes wide and ears open. I knew it was hopeless trying to discern my father’s voice amidst the roars of beasts, the cries of soldiers, the hum and crackle of magic, and the sharp ringing of metal, but there was little more that I could do.

  The number of beasts had dwindled tremendously, but not without loss. Humans, elves, and dwarves alike lay sprawled out on the ground alongside the beasts that they had either killed or were killed by. Once, in another life, I had seen a painting of a similar scene: soldiers wearing the colors of two opposing countries draped across one another in a jumble of limbs and death. Beneath it, a small brass plaque read: “In death, there are no sides.”

  So many soldiers had died to defeat this army of beasts. Behind me, the Wall stood high and unscathed, the ground before it intact despite the explosives we had placed underneath. Even if we won the day, many of Dicathen’s finest soldiers had perished, yet how many Alacryans had died for their country?

  My gut told me it was Trodius who had rescinded my plan, since the other two captains were transparent in valuing their troops over the Wall.

  It was only the thought of finding my father and the Horns—making sure they were okay—that kept me grounded. I had to remind myself over and over that what I had suggested was only that: a suggestion.

  The sun crawled across the sky. Soldiers too wounded or too tired to continue fighting were carried off by their comrades as the next batch of soldiers marched forward to replace them.

  The beast horde slowly collapsed into chaos as their numbers dwindled down to the hundreds, and they were no longer able to sustain their steady push toward the Wall. I knew it wouldn’t be long until the battle was over. Still, to the soldiers out here still fighting, every moment that passed was a moment that could end with their deaths. To them, this victory would be tarnished by the deaths of their friends that had fought alongside them.

  After a night and half a day of fighting and searching, my body had settled into an autonomous routine. I killed beasts wherever I saw them and helped soldiers in distress if they were on my way. I couldn’t save them all, but I wouldn’t ignore the ones right in front of me.

  I was helping a soldier whose right leg had been mauled when I was hit with a wave of panic and worry.

  “You! Carry this man back to the Wall,” I ordered after encasing his bleeding stub in ice.

  Sylvie! What happened? Cold sweat was dripping down my neck as my bond’s emotions washed over me.

  I was already flying towards Sylvie’s location. She wasn’t far, less than a mile to the southwest, toward the southern end of the Wall. Why wasn’t she answering me?

  Despite the scenery blurring past me, time seemed to slow, flowing like old honey from a cold bottle. The sounds of the battle were muffled, lost beneath the noise of my heartbeat thumping against my eardrums.

  As I got closer and closer though, my vision came in flashes. It felt like I was watching the world through a thick glass jar—I barely made out Sylvie as she held me back, embracing me. I could hear her worried cries, but I couldn’t make out the words she was saying.

  I registered her teary eyes, her shaking head, the pressure of her hands on my chest as she stopped me from going closer, but I couldn’t make out her expression because my focus was on the man dragging his feet towards the team of medics running his way.

  He was missing an arm and half of his face had been burned past the point of recognition, but I still knew it was Durden—and slung over his wide back… was what was left of my father.

  227

  Shared Affliction

  SYLVIE

  I should’ve stopped him from coming the moment he reached back out to me. The panic that leaked out to him couldn’t be taken back, but I should’ve kept him from seeing it.

  The moment I saw Arthur approaching, his eyes begging me to be wrong before his gaze drifted past me to the horrible vision beyond, my gut clenched and I felt tears threaten to take over. Seeing my bond’s horrified expression, hearing his exhaled breath as if he’d had his wind knocked out… I wanted to disappear—to take him in my arms and just disappear.

  I wanted to be anywhere but there. I would’ve rather faced another horde of deranged mana beasts by myself than endure the sight of my lifelong bond staring hopelessly at his own father’s bloody corpse.

  Arthur staggered forward. He pushed everyone aside and knelt over his father’s unmoving body, and for a moment, it seemed like all was silent.

  Beasts and soldiers alike seemed to have sensed the heavy veil that descended over the battlefield, but none could feel my bond’s state of turmoil as clearly as I could.

  It hurt.

  It was excruciating… it was unbearable.

  I didn’t know my heart could hurt this much. I clutched my chest and sank to the ground, unable to endure the pain of his emotions. Tears streamed down my cheeks and blurred my vision. I couldn’t breathe as the torrent of emotions continued to surge out of my bond and into me: grief that threatened to drown everything in its path, a gnawing guilt that ate away at the foundations of our strength, regret like a hurricane, blowing away years of growth and progress… and rage. Rage like a forest fire, burning out of control.

  I could feel these emotions like disasters wreaking havoc inside my heart, tearing away at Arthur’s mind and soul.

  Yet, on the surface, Arthur was as silent and still as a statue.

  I crawled towards him, gasping for air in between my sobs as my heart wrenched in my chest. It was only then, when I embraced his back—his broad, lonely back—that the thin wall that he had built around himself crumbled.

  With a guttural, primeval howl that tore through me like shards of glass, my bond broke down into tears.

  The very earth seemed to lament for my bond as his sobs and wails filled the air. The ambient mana all around us shook and surged to match his anger, then changed, undulating rhythmically, sympathizing with his despair.

  I could only cling to my bond’s back as the fiery claws continued to grip and twist my insides. I tried to do more, anything more to help, but I couldn’t. The lump in my throat blocked any words of consolation I could possibly say, so I did what no one else could do; I empathized through the connection we shared.

  Arthur—the Lance, the general, the white core mage—was, at that moment, only a boy who had lost his father.

  The world continued to turn, even as Arthur and I remained frozen in this moment of grieving and loss. The battle, which had gone on for two nights,
had come to an end. We had won, but not unscathed. The Wall loomed over us like a gravestone, and on it written the names of all the men and women, humans, elves, and dwarves who died here. I could see the name Reynolds Leywin burning bright across the stone surface, and it wasn’t Arthur’s anger that made my insides boil… it was my own.

  Time trickled by until the sun had set. It was only then that Arthur rose to his feet.

  Whether his emotions had been expended or locked away, I couldn’t tell, but his state of mind mirrored the thick layer of ice that he was encasing his father’s body in.

  Nearby, Durden still waited, his expression a mixture of sorrow and guilt. Angela and Jasmine had barely managed to hold him still long enough for the nurses to heal his wounds. The three adventurers then attended over Arthur’s mourning, never showing any signs of pain or discomfort despite the many wounds they’d all received.

  “Durden. Please take my father’s body to my mother and sister.” My bond’s voice was icy, hollow. He rose to his feet and walked towards the Wall, his presence seeping out like an aura of death and dread.

  CAPTAIN ALBANTH KELRIS

  “Following through with my original plan has led us to victory with minimal damage to this essential strategic structure,” Senior Captain Trodius boasted, a rare smile on his usually-stoic face. “Your obedience will not go unnoticed, Captain Albanth, Captain Jesmiya. Well done.”

  Jesmiya bowed to the applause of the other unit leaders present in the large meeting tent.

  I glanced down at the picture in my hand—worn, ripped, and crinkled around the edges. It was a picture I had found in the chestplate of one of my soldiers as I prepared his remains for cremation.

  “Captain Albanth?”

  Looking up, I saw the senior captain looking at me, his brow raised. Around him stood three men he had introduced only as his “benefactors,” all sharing the same puzzled expression.

  “My apologies,” I respond quickly, shoving the picture in my pocket before inclining my head and silently accepting the commendation, hopeful that no one could see the muscles of my jaw clenching and unclenching as I ground my teeth.

  It felt wrong to stand here, accepting praise for our victory after cremating several dozens of my men, many of whom I had shared drinks, meals, and laughs with.

  “While a proper celebration is in order, we are at war and there is much to clean up,” Trodius said. “Continue your good work. I will have someone send a small gift to the fallen soldiers’ immediate families.”

  “As expected of the head of the Flamesworth House. Your leadership is impeccable,” a portly man standing to the senior captain’s left beamed. “It was the right decision to invest in this fortress.”

  Meanwhile, Jesmiya and I exchanged a quick glance, both of us obviously hung up on Senior Captain Trodius’s use of the phrase, “clean up”. Surely he wasn’t referring to cremating and burying our allies in such a callous, thoughtless way.

  After the other soldiers had trickled out, Jesmiya and I turned to leave, but the senior captain called my name.

  “Captain Albanth, I’ll need a moment of your time,” he said, waiting for Jesmiya to leave.

  After all but the senior captain and his benefactors—nobles, based on their gaudy and spotless attire—were left, Trodius gestured toward an empty seat.

  I sat as requested, and one of the nobles raised an embellished metal wand and soundproofed the room using wind magic.

  “Captain Albanth. You home is in Etistin, correct?” the senior captain asked, crossing his legs.

  I nodded. “Yes sir.”

  “And that means, with the entire city being fortified, your family has been evacuated,” he continued matter-of-factly.

  “Yes sir. Fortunately, my position and contributions allowed my family to secure a place in a fortified shelter near Etistin’s castle.”

  “I see,” Trodius mused, eyeing me for a moment before turning to the lanky, bespectacled nobleman to his right.

  Receiving a nod from the senior captain, the nobleman slid an unbound scroll toward me. “This is information that Senior Captain Trodius Flamesworth received during the beast horde attack.”

  I read the flawless writing, cold sweat forming on my brow, my fingers trembling as I mumbled what I read. “Elenoir Kingdom… Alacryan ships approaching from western coast. Three hundred ships…”

  “The Council has surmised that this will be the biggest battle. And it’ll take place on the western shores just above Etistin.

  “Due to the manpower needed to withstand the Alacryan army, the Council has decided to abandon the elven kingdom. A majority of the elven troops will be transferred to Etistin. The citizens, of course, will be evacuated before the Alacryans reach the central cities,” Trodius explained matter-of-factly.

  “Th-this…” the parchment slipped out of my fingers. “Why am I the only one to be notified of this? We should tell Captain Jesmiya and spread the word. Our remaining troops need to be transferred to the west if we want to stand a chance! General Arthur was right!”

  Senior Captain Trodius’s expression turned sharp. “Had my objective been the same as the boy-Lance, I too would have proceeded with sacrificing the Wall. However, this fortress will soon become one of the most important military fortifications in Dicathen.”

  “I don’t understand,” I said truthfully.

  The portly noble spoke this time, eagerly leaning forward. “As my family always says, war is a big ol’ bag of money waiting to be open—”

  “Sir Niles, please refrain from such insensitive prattling,” Trodius admonished.

  “Of—of course. My apologies.” Niles let out a cough. “Anyway, with the war drawing to an end and so much land being either destroyed or taken by the Alacryans, it’s only a matter of time before people desperately seek for a safe haven.”

  “What about Xyrus City? It was to my understanding that the flying city is currently the safest location next to the castle,” I responded.

  A petite nobleman sporting a mustache, who had stayed quiet so far, finally spoke, grumbling in annoyance. “That floating rock is a powder keg waiting to explode.”

  “Xyrus City is inherently in a safe location, but the city is not built as a fortress,” Trodius clarified. “Once access into the flying city is overridden by the Alacryans—which is entirely plausible from the portals we’ve discovered in the dungeons of the Beast Glades—the people there will be sitting ducks.”

  “Which is exactly why it was so important that the Wall and underground routes below it remained in one piece. The Wall will serve as the foundation of a great new city,” the portly nobleman chimed in. “That general is smart, but shortsighted. He wanted to destroy this magnificent structure, which could potentially become the new capital of Dicathen, or if things go poorly, the only safe haven against the Alacryans!”

  “I apologize if I come off as rude, but from what you’re saying, it seems like you’re expecting—or even desiring—for the Alacryans to win this war,” I said, barely able to control my anger.

  “How dare you! That is a dangerous accusation you’re making, Captain,” the fat man barked.

  Trodius raised an arm, shutting him up. “It’s easy to shine a negative light on this picture, but we’re merely preparing for the inevitable circumstance. I am in no way rooting for those filthy intruders, but it would be foolish to ignore their military might. Even if we do manage to win this war, Dicathen will not come out unscathed. Elenoir has been abandoned, Darv is hiding like a turtle in its own shell, and attempts to fortify smaller cities in Sapin have been left to the city officials.”

  The senior captain paused, clearly considering his next words. “What we seek is to build a new safe haven for the citizens of Dicathen. There will be a new society reforged by the Flamesworth House and its patrons.”

  I shook my head, laughing out of sheer incredulity. Getting up, I opened my mouth, prepared to risk my position so that I could tell him off.

  “Thin
k hard before you let loose your tongue,” Trodius warned, his faint smile sharp as a dagger. “Did you not say that your father, mother, wife, and children are all in Etistin?”

  My eyes widened and my mouth snapped shut.

  This was wrong. What they were doing was wrong, but fear held my mouth closed like a muzzle.

  “Your reputation among the soldiers and workers here is highly positive. Stay here, work for our cause, and I will ensure you that your family is brought to the Wall immediately. We already have a plan in place to fortify and expand the structure utilizing the underground routes. Your family will be safe here, and you will be raised above the position of mere captain.”

  “I—I don’t… what about the soldiers here? I thought that you had received a letter ordering you to transfer all able soldiers to Etistin?” I managed to stammer out. I clasped my hands behind my back, unable to keep them from shaking.

  “The battle against the vicious beast horde was hard fought. We lost many—too many, in fact, to be able to send reinforcements to the west… that is our reply to the Council,” Trodius answered simply. “I doubt that they will come to check with all that’s on their plate.”

  My chest tightened and my breathing came out short. “Then y-you… purposely sent out these soldiers to their deaths… so that you can—”

  “The soldiers here fought to defend the Wall, a task they were honored to perform,” Trodius interjected. “Do not cheapen their deaths by overthinking our strategy, captain.”

  “You’re right. There’s no need for me to overthink,” an icy voice interjected from behind me.

  It wasn’t the words that made me shrink in upon myself. It was the presence that spread out from the voice, hanging like a thick shroud in the air, forcing me to my knees, sucking the very breath from my lungs…