Return of the Dead

Narrator's View:

"Surrender, elf. Name me the true king of Inyarel and you and your kind may leave these shores unharmed," King Betyn said as he towered over Delsaran.

"I will not! Elves were on the shores of Inyarel long before humans arrived!" Faylen turned to look for her father just as Betyn raised his sword, but before she could move to defend him another soldier swung his blade at her and almost got her across the stomach. It took a moment for her to end the battle with this soldier, but as she did she heard King Betyn shout for his men.

"The battle is over! Their king is dead and they will flee through the night! Let’s return to our homes for a celebration feast!" He yanked his horse around toward Madun and sped off with all the surviving humans following him. All the elves stood there as the humans fled the battlefield, but Faylen dropped her swords and ran to where she’d last seen her father, being greeted by a grim scene. Her father was laying on a patch of blood soaked ground and had a large gash that started at the top of his right shoulder and went all the way down to his left hip, exposing the red and white insides.

"Father," she whispered as she fell to her knees next to him with tears filling her eyes. "No, please. Do not die like this. Please Father. Do not let the humans take both of my parents from me." After an hour, Faylen noticed the battlefield was silent and looked up. Her people had gathered around her and Delsaran, and all had tears in their eyes.

"Would you like to burn the bodies of our fallen here or return home with them, Queen Faylen?" one surviving soldier asked quietly.

"We will return home with them so their families know of their sacrifice and great deeds to our race. Let’s collect our fallen and supplies, and we will return home." The soldiers nodded and dispersed, leaving Faylen to her grief. By the time she mustered the strength to get to her feet, the survivors had packed all the supplies and were picking up the bodies.

"Queen Faylen, would you like one of us to carry your father?" asked Thyune as he gave her a low bow. Her gaze slid to him but she forced herself to straighten her back and stop crying.

"No. I will carry him and as much of our supplies as I can." They spent the next few minutes in silence, preparing for the long trip home to Gulonde. Faylen placed two bags of supplies on her shoulders, crossing them over her chest, before lifting her father’s lifeless body in her arms and turning to see the rest of her people. "We will return to Gulonde and burn our fallen there where they will be among family. Let’s go." Everyone lifted the elf that they were to carry home and followed Faylen off the battlefield.

Desmond's View:

I watched from Faylen’s window, waiting to see her victoriously returning from battle, but when the elves came into view this time, I knew they’d lost the battle. Faylen was in front with two supply bags on her shoulders and a dead elf in her arms. Each elf behind her was carrying one bag and another elf in their arms. I bolted out of her room and down to help lighten their loads. As I got out of the castle, I could see elves noisily coming out of their houses to greet the returning soldiers and offer assistance however they could. I heard one cry of pain and while the crowd fell silent, the mood in the air dropped to a sorrowful mourning level. I slowed my pace as Faylen approached, now empty-handed. I could see the tears still filling her eyes, but refused to wipe them for her and try to make her smile since that would reveal our feelings for each other. "Where can I help, Faylen?"

"We need a fire built to burn their bodies and Tsarra needs to see some of our survivors," she said softly. I’d only ever heard her speak this soft once before and it was when she’d told me she had feelings for me, so I knew she was hurting.

"I will alert Tsarra that she’s needed and then begin helping with the fire." She nodded and I headed toward the healing station. "Tsarra?" I asked as I got closer to the doorway.

"I’m in here," came her voice. I poked my head in and saw her working on something to the right as she looked up at me. "What is it, Desmond?"

"You are needed to tend to some of the survivors." Her face grew in concern.

"Survivors? You mean not everyone has returned alive?"

"No. Just over half survived." She covered her mouth as she gasped in shock.

"King Delsaran?"

"I didn’t see him," I said as I shook my head.

"Faylen?"

"She’s alive and is the one that sent me for you. Is there anything I can help you bring to the survivors?"

"No, I’ll be fine. I just need to pack my supplies. Please tell Faylen I’ll be there momentarily." I nodded and headed off to where some elves were stacking wood, seeing Faylen as I got closer.

"Tsarra said she’ll be with the wounded soon, Faylen. She’s packing some supplies," I said as I grabbed the log that she’d been reaching for.

"Thank you, Desmond." We all finished building the fire stack in silence, and as the last log was set in place, someone brought over a body and gave it to Faylen. I noticed that the elf was sliced from shoulder to hip but couldn’t see the elf’s face. "Thank you, Thyune," Faylen murmured. The soldier bowed and backed away, letting me see that Faylen was holding King Delsaran’s body.

No wonder she’s so sad and taking this loss so hard. She had to carry her dead father back to the city after watching him get killed. Oh no. this is going to start her being pressured to bond and produce an heir. Perhaps I should go up to the castle and stay away from her. I watched in silence as King Delsaran and all the other deceased were placed on the fire stack. A few of the younger elves had tears streaming down their faces, some others placed kisses on the forehead or cheeks of some as they were laid on the stack, and others were sprinkling flower petals and forest leaves over each body as they were added. When the last body had been laid down, covered, and kissed, someone brought Faylen a lit torch and I watched as she lit the fire stack that’d been built.

"Tonight we mourn the loss of our friends and family members," Faylen said loudly. "May we always remember the sacrifice they gave. May their loss be what brings us closer together. To the friends and families they have left behind, we will ensure you are taken care of by sharing our homes and food if needed. Regretfully and sorrowfully, I tell you this promise. We will fight harder to ensure their sacrifice is not left in hopes and dreams. For if it is left there, the elven race will perish with them." She paused for a moment and I felt something in the air around her shift. "I will not see the end of our race in Inyarel be on this night. We will survive as we have done for the last 250 years of this war. We will end this war in our next battle and we will win in the name of our fallen."

Some of the crowd around the fire cheered, the survivors raised their swords, and the ones that had lost loved ones dried their eyes and began singing a sorrowful song in Faejesh. After about an hour, Faylen disappeared from the fire. I turned to look for her and saw her walking toward the castle. Let me be, Desmond. Stay there and earn the respect of my people, came her voice in my mind. When the fire dies, return to the castle and find me. I turned back to the fire and bowed my head, showing as much respect for the fallen soldiers and king as I could.