Hellion's Reckoning

Those sad, sullen faces were bright with smiles and laughter under the moonlit sky. A large fire burned at the center of the fallen village. They poured liquor over the invaders’ corpses and set them ablaze. After the feast, they drank from the barrels of wine they found stashed in someone’s basement. Several of them began dancing around the fire. Elara and Ruvyn had discovered a stash of instruments, drums, lyre, flutes, and guitars. They’d survived a fire and still played so beautifully.

The celebration aimed to provide solace to the villagers who had been lost. They hoped the spirits would join them or, at the very least, be entertained. Once the wine had gone around a few times, each of them took turns spitting and urinating upon the burning corpses. They hoped it would please the dead buried beyond the village to see their invaders insulted. The alcohol had stolen their wits, and some had taken to jumping through the large fire and shouting into the night. It was the perfect way to end such a sorrowful day.

Ashryn had cut her palm and swore an oath to avenge them. Others had joined in her pledge. Inias swore to do all he could, fearing he may fail them. He paid close attention to those who had chosen not to take any oaths. He’d be an idiot to assume his uncle hadn’t planted a spy. One of his purist sycophants, they would never take an oath to avenge a hellion. Lying or breaking an oath to the dead would leave a curse upon their clan. Vengeful spirits would torment them and their descendants until they broke it or the bloodline ended. Purists were superstitious, fearing every dark omen they saw. There were other reasons one may choose to abstain. The king viewed hellions as his enemy; they feared being branded as sympathizers.

Turning against one’s king wasn’t a simple decision and, as determined as Inias was, he still wasn’t exactly sure where he stood. He hadn’t seen the tension growing in the court, too busy with his own mischief. If the Ravenmoons would maintain the peace, how many more hellions would suffer? There had been no peace for the hellions lost in the village. They had suffered all in the name of peace. Varen had never wanted a war; it would devastate their kingdom. Inias wondered how heavily all those compromises weighed on him. All the lives lost, their influence and pride stripped away.

A series of howls pulled him away from his thoughts. Styx came bounding towards him, leaping into his arms. Inias sniffed and pulled away, shaking his head. The fox’s breath wreaked of alcohol and elk steak. “Are you drunk?” he asked, ruffling his fur. Styx licked his lips and grinned, leaning forward to lick at Inias’ cheek. “Augh…” Inias groaned, pushing him away to wipe his cheek, “Eat some mint.” Styx laid himself over Inias’ lap, who reached down to softly stroke his fur. “You need a big bowl of water, buddy.”

“TO ARMS!” someone cried as an arrow nearly grazed Inias’ cheek. They were back, the Magistrate’s men. He thought so at least. Who else would attack them? Styx shot to his feet beside Inias, growling. Everyone who hadn’t passed out pulled their weapons.

Ashryn drew her sword and rushed to Inias’ side. Cloaked figures emerged by the fire, striking his troop. Styx rushed out, tackling one to the ground. Inias saw the stag stitched on the cloak hood and threw his hand out. “Styx, let them go!” He ran past the fox and moved into the light, lifting his hands. One of the cloaked figures saw him and gasped, falling to their knees. “It’s the prince!” They called out to the others, who stopped fighting to turn to him. Inias’ soldiers stepped away as one by one each of the cloaked figures either bowed or bent the knee.

“Forgive us, your highness,” the first who knelt spoke and rose to their feet, “We mistook you for the Magistrate’s army. The village begged for our aid, but I’m afraid we were too late.”

“And you are?” Ashryn asked, stepping beside Inias. “The Knight’s Shade, Ravenmoon’s personal guard.” Inias answered, “Is Keira with you?” The cloaked figure nodded and stepped aside with a bow to reveal Lord Varen and Keira stepping out from the shadows. The fire illuminated the amethyst highlights in Keira’s hair and the smile on her face as she ran to embrace Inias. He caught her and slid his fingers through her hair. “I’m sorry,” she said, squeezing him so tight he could feel her knives poking at his chest. “I didn’t get to say goodbye.”

“That’s half the reason I’m out here,” Inias grinned and let the scent of rose petals and dandelions surround him. “And I never thanked you for saving my son.” Lord Varen rested a hand on his daughter’s shoulder as she slid away from Inias. “There’s a lot to talk about,” Inias nodded. “Your knights are free to help themselves. There’s plenty of elk and wine for everyone. Unless you got another few dozen lurking out there.”

The injured were being laid out so Ruvyn could begin applying his healing magic on them. Only three, one knight, and two of his soldiers. “I’d like to speak with you, away from your troop,” Varen told him. “Fine,” Inias answered, narrowing his eyes at the elder. “None of your knights, either.”

“Agreed.” Keira answered before her father could object and shot him a stern glance. He met it with one of his own, but sighed and shook his head. “Agreed. Lead the way, your highness.”