Displaced

Chapter 33

Akhustal Palebane let out a sigh as she crested a ridge and spotted a glimpse of Titan Grove far off in the distance through the forest canopy. Coming home had never felt so terrible before. Her body ached from the trip back, but not at much as her spirit. She'd spent the entire journey questioning her every decision. Had she been too greedy? Too reckless? Had there been some way to avoid the disaster she'd walked into, or was this simply fate? These questions lingered inside her, the lack of answers wracking her with guilt.

Every leader dealt with the burden of command, and this was not the first time she'd made decisions that had cost lives. But this was the first time Stragma had paid such a price without anything to show for it. Not only that, but a chance for a historic victory over the hated elves was now lost as well. With the time, manpower, and strategic surprise they'd had, Akhustal should have gone down as the Chos who razed Astryae to the ground. Any hope of that had vanished now. Drayhadal would adjust and be ready next time. The opportunity would not present itself again.

Part of her thought it would have been better to push ahead anyway and let Pyria do what she may. That part said that Caprakan was as good as dead already, that the Second Army would never be returned. It said that bargaining with Pyria was a fool's errand and that she would never honor her word. But she couldn't do it. Not while her husband still lived. Not while there was a chance to get him back.

She was a failure of a Chos. A Chos was supposed to know no fear. A Chos was supposed to stand strong against all foes, and for over a decade she had done so admirably. She'd faced down beasts ten times her size with a grin. She'd laughed in the face of opposing armies. But now, for the first time since childhood, Akhustal Palebane was afraid. The thought of life without Caprakan terrified her. She couldn't handle the thought of being alone again.

Her gloom remained even as she and her army entered Pholis later that day. Unsurprisingly, the city looked like she felt. One of the first actions the army had taken, naturally, had been to let those she'd left in charge in her absence of what had happened and that they'd be returning early. Information on that level never stayed secret for long, and from the looks of things, everybody knew about it by now. A malaise blanketed the people. Her people. This was her fault.

Like many times before, the army split into smaller groups before disbanding. As soon as the Flegs and the Blous had left, the Hono congregated around her for a quick meeting. Each of her generals had taken the events of the last days slightly differently. Some, especially General Fernfeather-hono, were still angry about her decision, but nobody would dare defy her. She was the Chos, after all.

"There isn't much to say right now," she began once they'd all assembled. "Tomorrow morning there will be a council to discuss where we go from here. Every general Hono must attend." She turned towards General Riverbiter-hono, who had been in charge of supervising the Shells. "All the dead have been properly stored?" A nod came in reply. "Good. The Rites of Renewal will take place tomorrow night. You are all dismissed."

Everybody went their separate ways after that, leaving only Akhustal and her thoughts in the room. Another in a long line of sighs escaped her lips. This wasn't getting any easier as time went on. The door to the chamber opened and Tepin entered.

"Her again?" Akhustal asked before Tepin even said a word.

"Yes."

Wearily, she rose to her feet and plodded towards where their Manys lived. Time for the worst part of the day.

*     *     *

"You're late," Pyria chided as Akhustal entered the Many's chamber. The Chos did not reply immediately, her gaze instead settling on the dirty, disheveled figure strategically placed in the background behind the long-eared witch.