Legacy (Daughter of War #2)

Chapter 8: Questions on End

Music is Hate by Lucas King. Play it!

******

Stunned silence fills the room.

Or more specifically, my travelling companions all look stunned. The villagers seem to have known this for quite a while.

Only now do I notice that the dark circles lining their eyes aren't from being awakened in the middle of the night, but from grief. Grief, and mourning. The small light of hope in their irises flicker out, despair taking its place instead.

A howl pierces the air.

A woman falls onto her knees, shrieking and crying so loud that surely the Pietists are able to hear the racket she's making. Her pretty, young face is marred by her expression, splotches of red staining it. A child no more than four years old stands beside her, placing a hand on the woman's shoulder.

The woman reigns in her screams just as fast as she'd released them. The crowd seems to converge around her, silently lending their support. Then she slowly crawls onto her feet, smiling weakly at the child beside her. They share the same nose. His mother, then?

"Murderer."

The word is quiet, but it deafens the room. It reverberates throughout the place like a curse, sending an invisible slap across my cheek.

"Murderer," the woman hisses again.

"I'm not a murderer," I say automatically.

"You didn't even try to save them."

"They were attacking me!"

"You killed our people."

I stagger backwards in shock. Thorel's uninjured arm steadies me, grabbing my elbow and making sure that I don't collapse onto the ground there and then. I take in a deep breath. I have to defend myself. There's no way I can allow one woman to get the better of me. I open my mouth.

She speaks before I can come up with a coherent word.

"He has killed our people! He took away, husbands, wives, and children," she screams, directed towards no one in particular. "Are we going to let him walk away just like that?"

Murderer.

The word echoes in my head as I realise that I had taken the lives of  people—people who had been important in others' lives.

Then I realise something else: I don't feel any remorse about it anymore.

I'm not sure if I should be worried about that.

"Hold your peace, Elentria," says the village Head, effectively silencing the dissension stirring amongst the villagers. "The Champion only did what he had to do. We cannot blame him for that."

"He killed your only daughter! How can you be so lenient?"

The Elder's expression hardens. But I see that he is grieving behind his mask of steel. A twinge of pity rings in me.

"The past is past. If you bring up this issue one more time, I will personally see to it that your wages are docked," he says calmly.

Elentria grows livid. Murmurs fill the atmosphere. Everyone is holding their breath to see what happens next.

In the end, Elentria clenches her fists, unclenches them, exhales, and nods. Much to everybody's disappointment. They were rather eager to watch her explode, it seems. This is probably the most excitement they've ever had in their simple lives.

"Thank you," says the Elder. Then addressing the crowd, he continues, "Now that we know that those creatures had been our people..."

He nods at Sir Kendrick. The Bane, in turn, waves a hand. Gilbert scurries out, disappearing behind the walls. I hear him grunting and heaving, as well as a blood-curdling scream that makes my hairs stand on end. Then he reemerges, towing something over his shoulder.