He shrugged and walked in, “It’s not like they’ll notice.”
His words didn’t sit well. For someone so interested in the answers that lay behind its walls, he had no respect for the premises or its permanent dead.
“They may not, but anything tracking us will,” Ethan growled. He was right, the noise would have echoed around the outside of the manor easily. Anything within a couple of miles would have heard the crash, especially in woods as quiet as these.
I followed them into the weathered room. The windows were cracked, the floors were well worn, but all in all it appeared to have missed the full brunt of the battle. At least, the lack of bodies suggested it. Sheets of ancient paper littered the floor and tables in an untidy array; the panic of their positioning practically screaming out.
“Look at these.” Ethan picked up several sheets of the decaying paper and laid them out clearly.
“Are these...battle plans?” Ric asked in amazement.
“They had expected the attack but they still fell.” Daniel’s expression was curious.
“They had expected it, yes,” Ethan said, drawing a hand over the plans, “but it seems they didn’t know when.”
“How can you tell?”
“See here? The date of the meeting doesn’t comply with how long it would take to formulise the completed plan and direct the soldiers to their positions and duties. Look, from the amount of soldiers in each division-”
Ethan spoke of battle with such knowledge and confidence but his jaw tensed as if begging him to keep the information locked away. The rigidity of his shoulders and shakiness of his hands made it clear that unpleasant memories were being stirred. I almost asked him to stop, but it wasn’t up to me to tell him what information to divulge or how to feel.
“-I don’t think they were expecting the attack for a while. Their plans are sloppy. There are no alternate strategies, no exit route for the civilians that couldn’t bear arms and fight alongside them.” Ethan’s voice was strained and full of anger as he traipsed through sheet after sheet. “Their confidence killed them. They passed off the storm of battle like it was going to be nothing more than a mild inconvenience, and it killed all of them.” Ric shifted more of the papers around while Daniel ignored his blatant grief to study the maps. “I swear if he wasn't killed that day, I would have killed him myself for being so foolish.”
“Did you ever think that he wasn’t being foolish?” Daniel said.
“How do you mean?”
“For a court as great as Adrian’s, do you not think they’d have efficient commanders? That his general wouldn’t have made them work tirelessly to create a foolproof strategy under the threat of war?” he asked.
“What are you-?”
“I’m saying that perhaps not all of those who pledged their loyalties to Adrian’s court did so truthfully. Or perhaps that they changed their minds once they realised the Berserkers were coming in greater numbers than they’d anticipated.”
“You think they were betrayed?” he asked.
“Isn’t it obvious?” Daniel scoffed. “Armies like these don’t make mistakes by accident. I’ve seen it before.”
The table groaned under Ethan’s weight. “Damn it, it makes sense-”
I’d stopped listening as pins prickled my back, then suddenly we were underwater; at least that’s what it felt like. Everyone’s movements were slow and their voices mumbled. My locket pulsed. With every passing second the room grew quieter and my dull senses tingled. A cold sweat spread across my forehead and wetted the back of my hair as singing started to filter in from the open doorway. The song both frightened and consoled me as it floated lyrically between the walls. I looked over to the others through blurred eyes but they hadn’t stirred. They continued to discuss and argue and failed to notice as I slipped out into the hall.
I wondered when it would happen. The dead were so many that to have made it through the day without hearing or seeing the soul of at least one of them would be hard to believe. It felt crowded, like Andor, only there wasn’t anything peaceful about this place. The singing grew louder as I hurried through the dank hallways and ascended a once-striking staircase.
When I reached the second level my breath stuttered. The corridor overlooked the massacred courtyard, giving me another grizzly view. Yet, despite the amount of windows lining the outer wall, the hallway was wrapped in an unexplainable darkness, like water at the deepest part of a lake. The bodies that lined the long strip were not those of Adrian’s soldiers. Most lay in moth-eaten shrouds, dresses, slacks and fine tunics - a mixture of noblemen and noblewomen, servants, maids, and mothers trying to protect their children.
The room to the side of me held the remnants of what used to be a door. From the state of its bent hinges and splintered wood, it had been broken in. Inside, the remains of too many too-small bodies lay huddled beneath the broken windows and in the far corners. In front of the door was where the nursery sister fell, her body still curled around whatever wound had ended her. Behind her was a girl still bent over the blade buried in her gut; I wouldn’t have aged her far beyond her first bleeding.
I slowly crouched in front of the many tiny, broken frames, some of whom still clung to one another, and placed my hands carefully atop their heads. The energies filling the room were crushing as they swayed from misery to anger to melancholy. Despite all of my efforts to be strong I felt the liquid fury burn down my cheeks and I sobbed, filling the room with the sound of my grief.
CHAPTE R THIRTY-THREE
MY EARS TINGLED at the slight sound that reached them. It wasn’t clear, and I couldn’t be sure exactly where it was coming from, but I’d recognise its voice anywhere. It wasn’t my business, and I was supposed to be keeping my distance, but I just couldn’t stop my feet from moving toward the door while the others continued their debate. A couple of nights ago when Ava spoke about Rosa it was like she drove a knife into my heart. I loved Rosa more than anything I’d ever known and, Gehn, I missed her, but afterward a weight had been lifted. Was the only thing making those memories painful my own guilt?