Hell's Bane (COMPLETED)

Chapter Twenty-Eight: The Failure of Victory

Davis looked at the line of Scavenger soldiers, chained and one by one sent down into the dungeons below.

The Claimant had won. He had won. The Scavenger would be no more, and his brother would be but the memory of a thorn to his side. He would kill every last one who opposed him if they dared do such a thing, but Kazim would be the one to stay alive and see his failure.

What I can do now is nothing to what I will do...

Yes, the Scavenger would wither and perish, and Davis would build a nation out of the Faction's ashes. For so long he had lived in hiding, in fear, but now he would at last rebuild his vision. Of one cleansed so long ago as the Faction was torn.

As for Hugo, Drea, Joss, and Susan... they would be his right hand soldiers, following him in the front row as he marched to victory. They would stay allegiant, and experience wealth and power like no other.

And if they were to turn to the other side, Oswin would not hesitate to kill them.

* * *

There was that strange sense of serenity that surrounded Hugo as he loitered around the castle. Despite the bodies littered across the floor – some with a bloodied gash down their chest, others with an arrow protruding from their heart – the explorer felt some aura of bliss that overshadowed everything else.

Hugo thought once again about recording the tales of what had happened. He had always wished, back in his childhood, to have the opportunity to record one of the great events of the world. To be one of the great poets and writers – Laras Delshaw, Ninaram Ashbringer, Ma'linarin Niranil'am – and to build a legacy not of sword and fire, but of quill and parchment.

The Reapers of Gladwyn's Field, and Surrounding Events. Perhaps not the best name, but it would work. Stroking Kazim's Blade, now replacing his old, worn out one, the explorer suddenly remembered Drea and Susan. They were dead. Drea and Susan were dead.

Hugo's mood soured. Drea, Susan, and Amandalin. And hundreds, thousands more. To gain what he had now.

A magical sword. A magical sword and a piece of paper that nobody knows how to read.

The sun began to set, and it occurred to Hugo that he had not ate since morning. And that it had only been hours since the battle of Gladwyn ended. Has it been hours? Long? Short? The explorer's sense of time distorted. Hours felt like days, but at the same time, it felt like seconds.

Reminding himself to consider recording events later, Hugo sped up his walk, remembering to meet with Davis and Joss.

* * *

Joss folded the Map in his hands and sighed. It still made no sense.

A multitude of feelings swarmed around him. The hermit did not know what to feel – satisfied? Agitated? Relieved? Curious?

I'm alive. But he had the eternian, so he couldn't have died.

It's over. Yet Joss seemed to crave more. The battle felt as if it ended to soon. And what had he said weeks earlier? Once Davis is done with me, I'll be back to my old circumstances. Or something on those lines.