Chương 31: The Starboy And Dealing With More Old Women

"Release it, young lord!" Joric shouted again.

"That is not your Script!" Enel did not move. The burning words writhed between his fingers like a worm, twisting and folding over themselves while the smoke rising from them screamed. The High Witch stared at it, then at Enel, and for the first time since they had arrived in Dalerly, the smile on her face was gone.

"Young lord!" Joric continued to scream, his voice cracking now.

"Y-you cannot hold another's Script! Release it before it bursts!"

"What?!" Tiny finally reacted to what was happening.

"W-what do you mean burst?!" Guinevere's eyes also began to move between Enel's hand and the witch.

"It is not written with his Breath."

"What does that mean?" Tiny asked, scrambling up from the ground.

"It means," Guinevere whispered, "it should be melting his arms by now." Guinevere was about to step forward, her eyes staring at the rampaging Script inside Enel's hand. Joric quickly pulled her away before she could draw close, however. They weren't the only ones trying to back away. The High Witch stepped back, too. Enel stared at her while the cursed villagers groaned softly behind him, their bodies still trembling from the curse that was running through them.

Some clawed at the dirt with their claws, while some crawled toward them using their chin. And above him... the hanged children swayed beneath the tree. Enel looked up at them, then back at the witch.

"You like eating innocent children?" The High Witch's eyes widened. She raised both hands, trying to write again, but Enel crossed the distance before even the smoke could leave her fingers. His free hand caught the back of her head, fingers sinking into her braided hair and the little bones tied within it.

"You like treating them like cattle?" Enel pulled down the back of her hair, causing the witch to open her mouth. She opened them further... but whether to beg or curse, no one would ever know.

"Then eat this." Enel shoved the burning Script into her mouth. And for one breath, Dalerly became bright. The Script truly did burst, and red and black light swallowed the High Witch from the inside. The sound was not like thunder, not truly—no. It was like a thousand breaths coming together and howling. As if the voices of those who had Breath moaned all at the same time. The soldiers shielded their faces. Tiny fell backward. Joric covered Guinevere, but she leaned to the side and did not look away.

When the light faded, what remained of the High Witch was on the ground, with everything between the top of her head and waist... gone. Blood covered the tree, the dirt, the hanging ropes, and Enel. It dripped from his hair, ran down his face, and gathered beneath his chin before falling onto the deer on his chest. He stood there with one hand still raised, and no one spoke for several breaths. Tiny stared at what was left of the High Witch, and against his will, he thought of Ulf.

Ulf had the chance to kneel, to answer, to be given a prayer. He even had a grave and a name. He realized now... Enel was completely merciful to Ulf.

"Lord Enel…" Joric whispered, moving away from Guinevere. Enel lowered his hand slowly, looking first at his palm and then at the blood dripping from his fingers. Only then did he blink, and a sigh escaped his lips. His demeanor also shifted. It was so subtle, but Guinevere was able to notice it. The boy who had apologized for taking her arm, the boy who let children climb over him, the boy who asked if people should marry for love—all of that was still there. And so was this.

The brutality and utter disregard for life deemed evil. One of the villagers gasped, then another, and soon the curse broke. People woke all at once, and the quiet Dalerly was soon filled with sound. A man screamed when he saw the blood underneath his claws. A woman crawled backward from the sickle lying beside her. Another stared at the bite marks on a soldier's arm and began sobbing apologies. Then someone looked at the tree.

"No…" The word came from a woman near the well, and after she said it once, she said it again and again as she ran toward the hanging children. Her legs failed before she reached them, but she kept dragging herself through the dirt with both hands even as the mud got into the gaps of her fur. Others followed. Some screamed, while others only stared upward with their mouths open and no sound leaving them.

One man tried to climb the tree with shaking hands, slipping again and again until Joric caught him and held him back.

"Let me go!" the man screamed.

"My girl! My girl is there!" Joric's jaw tightened, but he did not release him.

"Wait. Let us cut them down gently."

"Let me go! I—" Everyone then stopped when Enel moved. He leapt onto the branch and held one of the ropes and cut it with his fingers, lowering the child as carefully and as gently as he could. And if the rope was too short, he would carry their bodies down the tree himself. He returned to the branch again and again, and no one stopped him. Guinevere helped where she could and asked whose child belonged to whom.

Her voice trembled only once, when a mother could not speak and only pointed at a pair of shoes beneath the tree. Tiny stood near the side, clutching his own arms. He wanted to help, truly, but every time he looked at the children, his stomach twisted. So he helped in the only way he could. He carried water. He held a lantern. He guided an old man away from the tree when he seemed incredibly lost and confused.

The soldiers worked quietly, and by the time the last child was lowered, night had fully settled over Dalerly. The villagers gathered their dead. Some of the bodies were from the tree, and some were from houses. Some were from the cart, though those were already ash and bone when the soldiers returned for them. And they all piled them for the pyre. A man with gray in his beard approached Enel as the pyres were being built near the fields.

It was the very same man Tiny helped, and his knees seemed to be giving up on him. Still, when he reached Enel, he lowered himself to the ground. Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

"Please do not kneel," Enel quickly said. The man did not rise.

"You saved us."

"I... came too late."

"You came," the man whispered.

"That is more than anyone else would have done." Enel's lips moved, but no answer came. Another villager stepped forward, then another, and soon several of them had gathered before him with faces hollow from the nightmare they had awoken from.

"Who are you?" a woman asked, her eyes moving to his red cape, his golden hair, and the blood still drying on him.

"What lord are you?" Joric answered before Enel could.

"Enel of House Blackwood," he said, standing straighter.

"Young lord of Widow's Wall." The villagers looked at each other.

"Blackwood…" someone whispered.

"Can't be...? The Hero of the West Camp?" another asked.

"The boy who made an oath," said the gray-bearded man. Enel looked at him. The man's eyes filled with tears.

"We heard. A merchant passed through two days ago. He said a boy crossed the war to bring his people home because he swore he would. To think... to think you would be the one to save us, Hero." Enel did not know what to say to that, so he only lowered his head. The man stared at him for a moment, not knowing what to say. And so, instead, he focused his attention on their dead. They all did. The man began to cry then. Not loudly. He simply bent over, hands covering his face, and the others around him joined.

Dalerly burned their dead beneath a moon, the trickling embers serving as their stars. Joric invoked Vulkan again, and the villagers repeated the prayer as best they could. Some spoke the words wrong, and some could not speak at all, but it did not matter. The flames took the dead all the same. Enel stood until the last pyre had withered, then turned to Joric.

"We will stay until help arrives." Joric looked at him.

"Young lord…"

"These people cannot be left alone."

"They will not be," Joric said.

"I will leave men here."

"Not enough."

"My men are trained soldiers."

"Not enough. Mother had told me the feralfolk can sense people's anguish. They will definitely come." Guinevere stepped beside Enel, her dress stained with ash, mud, and blood now.

"Lord Enel," she said.

"If you stay, Dalerly is safer for a day."

"Then I stay."

"And what of the day after? And the day after that?" Guinevere asked.

"They need food, priests, carpenters, guards, and someone to tell nearby villages what happened here. You cannot be all of those things by standing in one place."

"I can protect them."

"Yes," she said.

"But only where you are." Enel looked at her. Guinevere's voice softened slightly.

"You cannot protect everyone by standing in one place."

"Then what am I supposed to do?"

"Learn how to reach farther." Guinevere stepped back, motioning to Joric.

"It is already in front of you, My Lord." Enel looked back at Joric, at the villagers, at the pyres, and at the tree. His hands closed, then opened.

"Sir Joric."

"Yes, young lord."

"Choose the men you trust most. Leave them here. Send word to the duke, to the closest temple, and to any village nearby. Tell them Dalerly needs food, healers, and guards." Joric bowed.

"It will be done."

"I will return if I hear danger." Joric glanced at him.

"From the Crown's Guild?"

"If I hear it." No one knew whether he meant that as a promise or a fact. Perhaps both. Still, they did not leave Dalerly until morning. When they did, Joric stayed behind with most of his soldiers. Only two riders continued with Enel, Guinevere, and Tiny, and even they rode farther back after what they had seen. None of them knew if the other slept. The road felt different after Dalerly. Tiny did not complain about his horse, and Guinevere did not read.

Enel rode in front, quieter than before, his hair still damp from where he had washed the blood away in a village basin that had turned red before clearing again. By midday, the land changed. The fields grew greener, and the road became smoother. Small stone markers appeared along the side, each carved with names that weather had almost erased... a graveyard. They continued on, and houses soon appeared beyond a hill, and unlike Dalerly, there was smoke from the chimneys.

"Ah!" Tiny let out a long breath.

"People. Alive people."

"We should continue after getting water for the horses," one of the riders said as they began dismounting.

"Sir Joric told us to avoid any more delays." Enel did not answer, only handing the reins to the soldier. At the edge of the town, an old woman stood beside a fence, waving at them with one hand, and Tiny immediately narrowed his eyes.

"No," he said.

"No more old women." The old woman blinked as they approached.

"Pardon?" Tiny pointed at her.

"Are you a witch? Confess now!"

"Tiny," Enel said.

"What? It is a fair question now." The old woman stared at Tiny for a moment, then lifted her walking stick and struck him on the shin.

"Agh!" Tiny grabbed his leg.

"Not a witch." Guinevere looked at the old woman, then quickly moved behind Enel. The old woman turned her attention to her for a moment, then to Enel and bowed her head.

"Forgive me, young lord. Young lady. I only wished to ask if you were heading toward the grove."

"We are just passing through, My Lady," Enel said.

"Ah." The old woman's face fell.

"Then never mind."

"What do you need?" Enel asked, and the soldier behind them sighed quietly. The old woman hesitated.

"Are you sure, young lord?"

"Ye—""There is a flower that grows in the grove beyond the hill. A small white thing with a blue center. It grows on the heads of moss-rats this time of year. My legs are not what they were, and I wished to place one where my husband rests."

"Moss-rats?" Tiny repeated.

"Flowers grow on squirrels here?" Guinevere moved away from Enel.

"Their recorded name is Orel, and they are closer to normal squirrels. They grow flowers once they turn into adults."

"Yes." The old woman nodded.

"They sleep beneath the stones, and the flowers root in the moss on their heads. They do not mind if you take one, so long as you are gentle." Tiny looked at Enel.

"That sounds like something a witch would say." The old woman raised her stick again, and Tiny hid behind his horse.

"We will retrieve it," Enel said.

"Are you sure?" Guinevere looked at him.

"We have already delayed."

"I know." She stared at his face for a moment, then nodded.

"Then we should be quick." The grove was not far. It rested beyond a hill where the grass grew thick and soft, and the trees leaned over each other. Stones covered in moss sat between the roots, some small, some large enough for a man to sleep beneath. Enel stopped at the edge and closed his eyes. And this time, the world opened more gently. He heard leaves rubbing together, beetles moving under bark, water dripping somewhere beneath a stone, and a bird's claws scraping against a branch.

Then, softer than all of it, he heard breathing. Small and slow.

"There," Enel whispered, pointing toward a cluster of stones. Tiny and Guinevere moved carefully. An orel slept beneath the shade of a leaning rock. It was bigger and rounder than Tiny expected, with soft brown fur and a little crown of moss growing over its head. From the moss grew several white flowers with blue centers. Tiny crouched.

"It is adorable," he whispered. Guinevere knelt beside him.

"Do not wake it."

"I know." Tiny pulled out a small knife and reached toward the flower.

"Stop," Enel said. Tiny froze.

"What?" Enel opened his eyes.

"The roots go beneath the moss."

"So?"

"You will hurt it." Tiny looked at the flower, then at the sleeping creature.

"The old woman said they do not mind."

"She was wrong." Guinevere leaned closer, studying the moss.

"He is right. The flower is rooted in the living moss. Cutting it poorly may tear the skin." Tiny slowly withdrew the knife, and the orel shifted in its sleep, nose twitching. Tiny sighed.

"We are going to fail our quest, M'lord. M'lady."

"Perhaps," Enel said.

"But I do not believe hurting an innocent animal is worth it." Tiny looked at him, then at the orel.

"Fine. But if the old woman hits me again, I am going to hit back."

"You should stop spending time with Lamb." And so, the party returned empty-handed. The old woman was still near the fence when they came back, and Tiny stood behind Enel this time, safely out of stick range.

"I apologize, My Lady," Enel said.

"The flowers are rooted into the creature. Taking one would harm it." The old woman stared at him, then smiled.

"You noticed that?"

"Yes."

"Most do not." Tiny stepped out slightly.

"So it was a test?"

"No," the old woman said.

"I truly wanted one. It is fine." The old woman then turned toward the path that led toward the graveyard Enel and the others had passed earlier.

"A kind gentleman brought one earlier. Looked familiar." Enel blinked.

"Someone else?"

"Come, come. The least you could do is offer respects." The old woman began walking, and Enel and the others followed... because it felt like they had to now with how disappointed the old woman sounded at them. They passed through fields again, where the grass opened into a graveyard. Enel stopped. He had already seen it earlier, but there were more graves than houses in the town. Rows and rows of stones covered the hill, most old, some new, and some so weathered that their names had nearly vanished.

Flowers had been placed on several of them, but most were empty. Near the center stood a man in a dark cloak.

"That's..." Tiny blinked.

"Lord Commander Duncan." Duncan knelt before a small grave, placing a white flower with a blue center gently against the stone. Enel did not move. Neither did Guinevere. Tiny swallowed, looking at the field of graves, then at Duncan's lowered head. The old woman bowed toward the graves and whispered a prayer. And without even waiting for any of them, just left. Duncan remained kneeling for a while, then lifted his head slightly, though he did not turn around.

"You are late, young lord," he said, placing his hand on the little stone as Enel stared at him from the edge of the graveyard.

"... And I welcome you to my home."