Taint

3. The Aftermath

Elbe River

2:00 am

A stranger walked along the river bank. His travelling cloak whispered over the grass, the soft swish it made his only companion on his travels. The hood was cast over his head, to avoid prying eyes, and a sword hung at his belt, wrapped up in filthy rags. To dissuade thieves, he convinced himself. 'Because I am broke...' He knew otherwise. The stranger stopped at the edge of the river and looked towards Ostengarde. He saw plumes of fire and smoke rising from the city, heard the cacophony of screams, and knew he was too late. The creatures would be on the move again soon, to finish the job at Reich's Arch. He would have to make himself scarce.

That was when he heard a low moan in the grass. A demon! The stranger was immediately alert, sword in hand. He approached carefully and peered over the tall grass, poised to strike.

"A boy?" His pent up breath was let out in an exasperated sigh. 'Is he alive?' The chances were slim, but he had to commend the child for making it this far out of the city. The stranger knelt and put his ear to the boy's chest. 'Still beating!' He was surprised to discover. Well now maybe his voyage here had not been in vain. If he could help even one poor, unfortunate victim of this tragedy... The stranger set about treating the boy's wounds. The child's hand was pressed over his chest. Gingerly, the stranger moved it, unraveled the makeshift bandage and examined the wound.

'No!' His eyes widened. He recognized that wound. The unmistakable red light of the Taint pulsed from within his chest. It had made its home, snuggled beside the boy's heart. He was doomed now, what was the point? The stranger panicked and his hand locked around the boy's throat. He would turn into a demon, like the others whose minds had succumbed to the Taint! At least, that was what the rational part of his brain told him. The stranger's hand squeezed just short of suffocating him. It would be easy. Crush it, throw the body in the river, move on. No one was going to notice or care about one extra corpse in a city full of dead. But something wouldn't let him.

The stranger's hand trembled. He looked at the boy's face. The child seemed to be clinging to life with all the strength left in his little body. His face was scrunched up in a grimace and his hands were clenched into fists. He'd fought to escape that city... Perhaps he could fight this too...

When Tyler awoke, he took note of several things. One, he did not seem to be dead. Two, he had made it across the river. Three, he was not alone.

"Who are you?!" He leapt to his feet and immediately regretted it as a sharp pang of pain stabbed his chest. Putting a hand to it revealed that he was no longer wearing the bloodied shirt, instead clothed in a white flaxen tunic that seemed much too large for him. It hung off his short, skinny frame in bags and folds. He peered down the neck hole of the tunic and realized that his wound was cleaned and bandaged neatly. He returned his gaze to the stranger with a different expression. "How are you feeling?" The stranger asked.

"Wh-What?" Tyler sputtered.

"How. Are. You. Feeling?"

"Fine, I guess..."

"You hungry?" The man half turned, a fraction of his face illuminated in the glow of a campfire.

"Well.. Yes." He replied cautiously.

"So, I caught this fish." The man pointed at a silvery trout cooking over the fire. "But don't expect much in the way of culinary technique..." He chuckled a bit. Tyler sat down across from him. He wasn't sure what to say, although his head was swimming with questions. He silenced himself with a bite of fish. Which was terrible. Then again, that was what he got for running away from his fully staffed, 24 hour kitchen. The food, as terrible as it was, did wonders for him. He could feel some of the terror and fatigue of what he'd just experienced begin to fade, numbed by the warm food in his belly.

It was then that he felt emboldened enough to ask questions about the stranger. His name, why he was here, where had he come from, what on earth just happened? The stranger avoided them all, substituting answers with casual conversation. Tyler couldn't help but feel that nobody had just sat down and really talked to him in a long time. At least judging from his abysmal social skills. Or perhaps he was deaf.

The sight of the rising sun made the mysterious man cut himself off abruptly.

"I have to leave now." He stood.

"Wait!" Tyler held out a hand. "Maybe I could go with you!" The stranger shook his head. Tyler thought he saw a pained expression on his face.

"I must go alone. Head south. You'll find a town." He pointed downstream. Before Tyler could protest, the stranger turned and walked away, cloak billowing behind him in the early morning light.

***

Reich's Arch - Eldred Residence

7:30 am

Leo hadn't slept all night. The inhuman sounds of the demons on the battlefield kept him awake. Not to mention the knowledge that his father was out there with them. The sounds drove him further into retreat beneath his sheets the closer they got. But they never came.

There was a knock on the door. Leo vaulted himself out of bed and raced downstairs, relief plain on his face. He threw open the door.

"Thank god you're-" The smile disappeared. "Brent." The young soldier stood at the door, avoiding Leo's gaze. "I don't understand... Where's my father?" Brent said nothing, but he dropped to one knee and presented Leo with something. The sunlight shone bright on the metal of The Valor. Leo's heart sank.

"Why are you giving this to me?" He said in a trembling voice. "I don't want that... I don't want that!"

The priest was saying something. Last rites, probably, but Leo screened out the words, frozen in place, blankly staring at the coffin in the ground. His father's sword hung loosely in his grip. All around him, he could hear people whispering. He knew it was him they were talking about, but he wasn't sure what there was to say. It seemed the whole city was congregated in the small space of the cemetery. If they weren't here in mourning, they were in the graves. Leo was a bizarre contrast to his inconsolable mother, strangely quiet, staring straight ahead. He didn't even blink as the coffin was lowered into the grave. Not a single tear graced his cheek as the first few shovelfuls of dirt were thrown in. He is broken. People began to wander away one by one. His mother had to be dragged away screaming and sobbing. That finally left him standing there in silence.

Or not. Leo heard the sound of soft sobbing. He turned towards it, his first movement in over an hour. There, half hidden behind a tree was princess Nikola. She looked up at him through her tears as he approached.

"Leo..." She managed to say. He'd heard that the king was gravely ill. There wasn't much hope left for him. Leo and Nikola stood and stared at each other. His presence calmed her. Her doe-eyed stare made him hold his sword more firmly. He reached out. His fingers wavered momentarily above her snow white hair, as in fear of the frost. He ruffled it slightly. A lock fell into her face, but her hazel eyes remained fixed on him. Leo fought the tightening in his throat and said,

"Be brave."