The Lost Kingdom

Chapter 18- Despair

Out of the hundred Pulcharians that had gone to Ellamenta to fight, ten had survived. Families were devastated and children left without fathers, mothers, or both. In the years to come, Ivory would wonder how she had survived. Sheer luck, or perhaps death had a weird way of choosing its victims. Either way, she felt a small pang of sorrow for all those who had been lost. Even if they had been cruel, none of them deserved to die.

Ivory only realized she felt this way when the dragon they were riding landed. It circled the sky several times, spiraling lower and lower until in planted its huge, clawed feet upon the ground, the wind from its wings swaying several trees and even knocking over a small boy who hastily jumped back on his feet. A great crowd had formed, but the people backed off in fear of being crushed. They were cheering, waving the Pulcharian flag which had a lion emblem painted on it, whith children running around their mother's feet in joy.

With a sinking, terrible feeling, Ivory understood. The Pulcharians expected their loved ones to return with valiant tales of heroism, stories of slaying giant, evil monsters. But when they saw the tattered, exhausted group of warriors, the cheers slowly died. Happy faces crumbled into looks of utter, endless despair. The children, not understanding, continued to play, until their mothers and siblings abruptly stopped them.

Swan was the first to jump from the dragon, a defeated air hanging around his slumped shoulders. It was his responsibility to bring all his warriors home safe and alive, but there he was, shaking his head and flinching as cries of anguish rose around him. The other nine warriors came down after him, and Ivory sent her leader a sympathetic look. Prince Sarnist appeared beside her; his father had let him and Prince Persius come along. Sarnist had told Ivory that he'd explain the reasoning later, because when she'd asked, they were busy packing the dragon, and on the ride to Dolphin Island he could scarcely be heard over the wind.

"Where is everyone?" a child asked, and this led to an uproar of questions.

"Did some stay back in Ellamenta?"

"Why are there so few of you?"

"They aren't dead, are they?"

"Swan! Tell us they aren't dead!"

Ivory could block out neither their cries or their pain, and stood, resolute, as so many emotions stabbed at her; the agony and fear, curiosity and dread. Joy and relief from very few, whose loved ones they were reuniting with, embracing tightly and crying. And guilt was the strongest of all, emitting from Swan with a passion that nearly swept her off her feat.

Slowly, Swan raised his hand, and the questions died down. He looked pained and torn, and Ivory could tell it took all his might to talk. "They did not stay back in Ellamenta," he answered softly, yet his tone carried to the ears of all listening. "And my regret cannot be put into words. I'm sorry that to disappoint you all. They're bodies are being carried over tomorrow by dragon, as Ellamenta has been generous enough to do so.

The war was much bloodier than anyone could have predicted. Had there been enough time, more warriors could have been rounded up from the neighboring village, and perhaps more would have survived."

There was silence. A long, screaming silence worse than any cry of loss. Worse than the insults that should have been thrown at Swan, the accusations that he should have done better that Ivory had expected. It was silence, she realized, that could say nothing but everything all at once.

"Daddy's not coming home?" a soft, innocent voice came, and Ivory found that a small girl had asked it. She was young, with wide blue eyes and soft blond hair. A wail of despair rose in Ivory; it was Alice, whose mother had died the year before due to illness. Swan stared at the child, his eyes blank, and slowly turned to Prince Sarnist and Persius. "If you two would follow me so we could discuss certain matters." he said softly, and then turned, the crowd parting as he strode away.