Then he saw, and he realized that the flame red was no trick of the sunset. His village was on fire.
Parts of it burned brightly, thatched roofs turned into bonfires by the flames, so that the whole skyline seemed filled with it. More of it was blackened and smoking, soot-colored timbers standing like the skeletons of the lost buildings. One toppled over even as Royce watched, creaking and then falling, tumbling to the ground with a crash.
No, he murmured, dismounting and leading his stolen horse forward. No, I cant be too late.
He was though. The fires that burned were old ones, holding a grip now only on the largest buildings, where there was the most to burn. The rest of his village was a thing of charcoal and acrid smoke, so long from the point where the fire caught that Royce could never have hoped to get there. The man hed passed on the road had said that soldiers were arriving as he left, but Royce had reckoned without the distance, and the time it would take to cover it.
Finally, he couldnt avoid it any longer, and looked down to where the bodies lay. There were so many of them: men and women, young and old, all killed indiscriminately, and clearly no mercy shown. Some of the bodies lay among the ruins, as blackened as the wood around them; others lay in the streets, with gaping wounds that told the story of how they had died. Royce saw some cut down from the front where they had tried to fight, some hacked down from behind when they had tried to run. He saw a cluster of the younger women, killed off to one side. Had they thought that this was just another raid for the nobles to take what they wanted from them all, right up to the moment when someone had cut their throats?
Pain flowed through Royce, and anger, and a hundred other things, all balled up into a knot that felt as though it might tear his heart in two. He staggered through the village, looking at death after death, barely able to believe that even the dukes men would do something like this.
They had, though, and there was no undoing it.
Mother! Royce called out. Father!
He dared to hope, in spite of the horrors around him. Some of the villages inhabitants must have made it to safety. Marauding soldiers were sloppy, and people could escape, couldnt they?
Royce saw another knot of bodies on the ground, and this one looked different, because there were no sword wounds on the bodies. Instead, they looked as though they had simply died, killed with bare hands, perhaps, but even on the Red Isle, that was reckoned a difficult thing. Royce didnt care right then, because although these people were ones he knew, they werent the ones he was trying to find. They werent his parents.
Mother! Royce called out. Father!
He knew that soldiers might hear him if they were still there, but he didnt care. A part of Royce even welcomed the prospect of them coming, because it meant a chance to kill them, and make them pay.
Are you there? Royce called out, and a figure staggered from one of the buildings, soot-caked and haggard looking. For an instant, Royces heart leapt, thinking that maybe his mother had heard him, but then he realized that this wasnt her. Instead, he recognized the form of Old Lori, who had always terrified the children with her stories, and who sometimes claimed that she had the Sight.
Your parents are dead, boy, she said, and in that moment the world seemed to break for Royce. The whole of it froze in place, caught between one heartbeat and the next.
They cant be, Royce said, shaking his head, unwilling to believe it. They cant be.
They are. Lori moved to sit against the remains of a low wall. As dead as Ill be soon.
Even as she said it, Royce saw the blood on her rough-spun gown, the hole where a sword had gone in and out.
Let me help you, he said, starting toward her, in spite of the fresh surge of pain that had come from what shed said about his parents. Focusing on her felt like the only way not to feel it in that moment.
Dont you touch me! she said, pointing a finger at him. You think I dont see the darkness that follows you like a cloak? You think I dont see the death and destruction that seeks out everything you touch?
But youre dying, Royce said, trying to persuade her.
Old Lori shrugged. Everything dies well, nearly, she said. Even you eventually, although youll shake the world before then. How many more will die for your dreams?
I dont want anyone to die, Royce said.
They will anyway, the old woman countered. Your parents did.
Fresh anger flashed through Royce. The soldiers. Ill
Not the soldiers, not for them. It seems theres more who see the dangers that follow you, boy. A man came here, and I smelled the death on him so strong I hid. He killed strong men without trying, and when he went to your home
Royce could guess the rest. He realized something worse in that moment, the full horror of it striking him.
I saw him. I saw him on the road, Royce said. His hand tightened on his sword. I should have stepped out. I should have killed him there.
I saw what he did, Old Lori said. Hed have killed you as surely as you killed all of us just by being born. Ill give you a piece of advice, boy. Run. Run away into the wilds. Let no one see you again. Hide as I once hid, before I was this.
After this? Royce demanded, his anger flaring. He could feel hot tears on his face now, and he couldnt work out if they were grief, or anger, or something else. You think I can walk away after all of this?
The old woman closed her eyes and sighed. No, no, I dont. I see I see this whole land shifting, a king rising, a king falling. I see death, and more death, all because you cant be anyone but who you are.
Let me help you, Royce said again, reaching out to help plug the wound in Loris side. There was a flicker of something that felt like the shock from wool rubbed the wrong way, and Lori gasped.
What have you done now? she demanded. Go, boy. Go! Leave an old woman to her death. Im too tired for this. Theres plenty more death waiting for you, wherever you try to walk.
She fell silent, and for a moment, Royce thought she might be resting, but she seemed too still for that. The village around him was still and silent once again. In that silence, Royce stood silently, not knowing what to do next.
Then he did know, and set off for the remains of his parents home.
CHAPTER FOUR
Raymond groaned with every jolt of the cart that was carrying him and his brothers to the place where they were to be executed. He could feel every bounce and judder of the vehicle clashing against the bruises that covered his body, could hear the clink of the chains that held him as they moved against the wood.
He could feel his fear, although it seemed to be somewhere on the far side of the pain right then; the guards beating had left him feeling as though his body was a broken thing, made of sharp edges. It was hard to concentrate, even on the terror of death, past that.
The fear he could find the way to was mostly for his brothers.
How much further, do you think? Garet asked. Raymonds youngest brother had managed to sit up in the cart, and Raymond could see the bruises that covered his face.
Lofen sat up more slowly, looking emaciated after their time in the dungeon. However far it is, its not far enough.
Where do you think theyre taking us? Garet asked.
Raymond could understand why his little brother wanted to know. The thought of being executed was bad enough, but not knowing what was happening, where it would be, or how it would be done was worse.