Chapter 275

When the last of the fires began to die the sun was beginning to rise, and the survivors of Queen Draudillon's party were herded together, the elves that were used to herd the humans together were of the larger variety, such was their size that even without her transformation into a child sized version of herself, the Draconic Queen would have had to crane her neck to look into the faces of the elves.

"Move along." The elf closest to her said and pushed her along using the curve of his bow as if he were prodding cattle along, she stumbled a little and fell against a trudging lady in waiting. Clad in their fine dresses as they were, they never stood a prayer of escaping. Their heads were bowed, though they darted them up now and again to glance around like deer searching for danger between drinks of water.

The soldiers of Draudillon's band were one and all wounded, and none of them lightly. Their armor clinked as they were dragged by the elves or helped one another limp into place. The screams were gone, and for one brief moment, a span of time as short as the passage of the rising sun's light from one inch to the next as it went higher above the horizon, the Queen thought the elves were healing the wounded and that was why the screams stopped.

That notion was erased when, as she shuffled into line with the herded women, she saw an elf shove a captured pike into the throat of a human soldier on the ground.

The wet noise of it sinking into flesh and tearing open the throat, the gurgles, the noise and smell of fear, foulness, and blood made the Queen grab her stomach, bend forward, and retch up her previous meal onto the grass.

She coughed and spit as the acidic taste of her stomach fluids only made things worse, a puddle of brown and half chewed meat and bread lingered under her eyes.

"What about the walking wounded, do we heal them or…?" Draudillon turned to look at the source of the voice, a cluster of elves stood nearby, they were covered in dirt, a few were wounded, but the casters' glowing hands were changing that. They wore light armor, mostly flexible chainmail or banded mail, leather with metallic strips at vital places. 'No wonder they're so fast…' She thought, and the importance of the question hit her while she continued her coughing, drowning out the clinking of chains as she and the other whimpering, crying women captives were forced together.

"You know the King's orders. He has no use for men. Just make it quick." The big elf said, and a cry of alarm came up from the male captives who overheard it, they began to shout incoherently, but the clutch of elves in conversation a few paces away from the Queen only drew their swords and made to walk toward the bound and wounded human warriors.

'You can't!' The Queen thought, and then, she said it out loud. "You can't do that! They surrendered!"

The elf in charge, or so she assumed him to be from his orders, and from the silver tree with its multitude of branches painted on his chest, a stark contrast to those who took orders, who had progressively fewer branches on similar paintings, stopped. He gave a look down at the white haired child and said, "I don't know who told you that, little girl, but just because someone surrenders, that doesn't mean they can't die." He laughed, as did those elves nearest to him.

Draudillon's face flushed red and she shook her head, "No! They surrendered so they could live! It'd be barbaric to kill them!"

"A child's innocence, eh?" The towering elf said, and for a brief moment, to the Queen's dismay, a hint of pity passed across his face, it became drawn, drained, and utterly weary. When it seemed he was at his lowest point he put a hand on her head, and she immediately shook her head to cast it off. He withdrew his hand and said with a deep frown, "Child, they're the lucky ones here."

He then looked to the swordsmen to his left and right, "Go on, make it quick."

"No!" The Queen shouted, and shouted again, and shouted again, and yet for all her cries, they were as useless a shield for her people as their flesh was when the swords thrust down into their hearts.

The captives fell with soft thuds, sent to their graves by the music of the weeping survivors, Draudillon's host of maids and ladies in waiting.

Naive as she might have been, enough so that she felt a fresh urge to retch the already empty stomach again when she beheld the empty, disbelieving eyes of a dead young knight… even she knew what the elf meant.

And with his unstated and clear pronouncement, the captive women of the royal house lost their order. At Draudillon's back a maid fell to her knees, threw her face into her hands, and sobbed.

In front of her, a maid dropped down, picked up a broken arrow and made to thrust it into her own throat, her jaw clenched, her eyes steel, "Fuck you! I'd rather die!" She screamed, her spittle flew far enough to strike one of the elven warriors as a final act of defiance. The woman's slender arms had probably never borne the weight of a sword before, the blood and filth on her black and white maid dress with its many frills, was likely the dirtiest she'd ever been. Her green eyes flashed with hate where once Draudillon remembered only soft demureness and grace.

Before the elves could stop her, she drew the broken wooden shaft of the arrow against her throat and shoved the jagged tip in one side and out the other. Blood fountained out of her lips as her mouth opened in a gasp of pain, the flow of red liquid spurted out over the green grass with such weight that the little blades bent in submission to her will.

The maid fell to her knees before the nearest elf could reach her, she yanked the shaft free and flung it toward the elf that rushed to stop her, the useless stick struck his armor and fell to the ground where it snapped and sank into the ground when he stepped on it.

"Fhock… yough…" The crude phrase was likely something she'd only vaguely heard while listening to soldiers, rather than in the hallowed halls of the dignified royal house… but it drove the point home, and she fell forward, her body seizing up as a caster came running over and the elf caught her at the shoulders.

Queen Draudillon froze as shock swept over her at the sudden action, that was the only self murdering act of defiance, most became sullen, some shook and trembled, some froze stiff and stared vacantly at nothing, others wept with varying degrees of volume… the caster came near.

"Come on…" The Queen mouthed the words, but the truth was, 'I don't even know what I want to happen…' She could only watch as the elven warrior lowered the corpse to the ground, and the caster gave up.

"Another lucky one." He muttered, then reached into a pouch, took out a key, unlocked the woman from the line which held the others, and then stepped away.

"Aren't you… aren't you even going to bury the dead…?" The Queen gasped, then fell silent as the elf glared balefully down at her.

"You're dead too, you just don't know it yet. She did though."" He nudged the dead maid with his foot, briefly tapping her shoulder, then shouted his orders. "Get them moving, we need to rejoin the King as soon as possible."

Draudillon stood rooted to the spot, the heavy stench of waste and fear was like a mountain on her shoulders, and when the others began to trudge when their chains were tugged and sword tips leveled at vital organs and closed in on those who wouldn't move, she still could not bring herself to take a step.

Not until the chain was yanked and the biggest elf barked out, "Move it!"

The Queen stumbled as she was torn away from the hell of her once luxurious encampment, and she took one brief look back at it as it faded behind her. 'The other monarchs will wonder where I am… the Allfather, the Holy Queen, the Frost Queen, the Re-Estize Queen, we were all going to go together from Carne… when I don't make it, questions will be asked. All I have to do is survive… survive and wait for rescue…'

As the scene began to shrink at her back, she saw the first crows land and begin to peck at the flesh of the dead, she turned away, unable to watch further, and trudged onward the way she and the others were prodded.