The Road After

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i. Breena Silverhair.

The war was over. The battle had ended, the war won and the Mage of Shadows defeated. The Three Kings had found their ancient enchanted weapons and had brought ruin to the myriad schemes the vile sorcerer had wrought upon the world. Those thralls not killed had felt the shadow lift from their minds and were themselves once more.

Of course, there were still the Shadow Guards to deal with. Those people that had flocked to the Mage of Shadows' banner by choice, fools that they were. However, they were only in the hundreds, now, and would be easily dealt with by the Kings' Companions. The bulk of the Shadow Mage's forces were now either dead or free of his malefic madness.

Breena shielded her eyes as she looked towards the hill on which the Three Kings were giving their, no doubt, rousing victory speech. It was probably quite spine-tingling, but she had no care to hear it. Nor did she care for the night of celebration that was likely to follow. She had no stomach for it.

Instead, here she was, picking her way through the killing field. Stepping, with cautious, reverent movements between the bodies of the dead. Dead as far as the eye could see. Humans, Kannai, Dragon-Kin, Fae and Driadin. People of all the races had fought on the side of Rürazar, the Mage of Shadows (not that they had had a choice), but it was humans, for the most part, that had fought on the side of the Kings.

Oh, there were the odd few from the other races, but it had been a 'human war'. Meaning the other races thought if they had kept their heads down, the Shadow Mage would have left them be. He wouldn't have, of course.

"Breena!" Haavo, was one of those few of the other races. One of the dog-like Kannai brought up in the city of Orususk, Haavo's voice was deep for such a small man and his attempt at a hissed whisper carried louder than he wanted. "If the Kings' Companions see us they'll think we're looting and you know what they do to looters."

"I'm not looting. I'm looking for something. Someone." Breena pointed around them at various other people that were also moving through the bodies on the field. "Besides, we're not the only ones here."

"That's not the point and you know it." Haavo looked at the bodies around them and grimaced, sad and guilt-ridden. "We should leave them be, now the poor souls have found release. Who are you looking for, anyway?"

But Breena ignored him. She had found who she was looking for. There, right where she had left him was the young Dragon-Kin that she had killed. Little more than a fledgling. His scaly skin greying in the sun.

Breena squatted beside him, a great sadness filling her chest to bursting. So young. She had seen the fear in his eyes even as he had swung his sword with unnatural strength, slicing her cheek. She touched the scar. It should have been completely healed, but the healers had become overworked and tired throughout and after the battle.

There would be no healer for the Dragon-Kin boy, though. No coming back from the dead for him or any of thousands that had perished that day. But, yes, Haavo was right. They had found release from their enforced servitude. The shadows had left their souls upon the death of Rürazar, but they were still dead. Such a waste.

The boy's hand was clutching at something stuffed in his armour. Some kind of paper, folded tight and with scratchy writing scribbled upon it. Breena looked around until she saw what, who, she needed.

"Sergeant!" A squat, thick-set man, of indeterminate age, looked around at her shout. "Permission to remove something from this body, sir? It's not loot. I think it's a letter."

"Girl, I don't give a shit." The sergeant kept walking, stepping on bodies if that's where his feet landed. "War's over and I'm going home. Do what you like for all I care."