The sight of the battlefield (Patreon)

nearly overwhelmed me as I recalled that fateful day.  I could still picture Estmere's skeleton accusing me in my nightmare.  If I ever got back to the Coronation Chamber, he would certainly still be there.  Did I really want to face that again?

I turned away from the grisly spectacle before me, and stepped back inside.

The way I figured it, these were my options:  I could go back through the Gate and try to manipulate the time slip to get to some later date when the rabbits would be less vigilant ... or I could wade through piles of moldering bones to explore the ruins of the dead city that I had killed.  If I didn't go insane from lingering Plague Of Battles fumes, then an up close glimpse of all the lives I accidentally cut short would probably drive me to guilt-induced madness.

I carefully considered these possibilities and decided on the second one, for several reasons.  Firstly, even though I was reasonably certain I could use the time slip to my advantage, I wasn't completely sure I could control it.  Secondly, even if I could, what difference would it make?  The rabbits were not what was keeping me in the stone circle.  I would have no way of knowing that they had relaxed their vigilance unless visitors arrived from outside, and that would depend on pure chance.  Thirdly, it was obvious by this point that my interactions with lowfolk were doomed to failure.  Continuing to pursue them would be simply avoiding my responsibilities here in Faerie.

Yes!  I needed to take responsibility for my mistake, and look unflinchingly at the damage I had caused.  Then I needed to start cleaning up, and turn Albric Tor back into a capital city worthy of an Emperor!  It would take a long time, but I had plenty of time!  It would be dangerous, but that meant it was clearly the elfly thing to do!

I whispered a prayer to Fuma, and opened the door leading outside.

There were corpses everywhere.  The bones had been picked clean wherever the flesh was exposed (I remembered the flocks of angry crows that had harried me early after the battle) but I shuddered to think what might be underneath their armor.  All of the bodies were still wearing their battle gear and there were weapons strewn everywhere.

Burnside would have loved this.  I wondered where she was.

The ground was moist and spongy, and there was a foul, rotten smell in the air.  One would expect this field to be lush and green with all the fertilizer it had received, but I suppose the Plague Of Battles had poisoned the earth, because nothing was growing.

I picked my way carefully among the bodies of the slain until I reached the ancient wall of Albric Tor.  A rocky cleft led down to an entrance to the Underworks.  Remains of some of the city's defenders dangled from the battlements where they had met their doom.

I gritted my teeth, steeled my nerves, and carefully observing where I put my feet, I proceeded toward the Underworks entrance.

When I reached the archway, my ears pricked at a sound within, and my hair stood on end.  There shouldn't be anything moving in this cursed place!  I stood completely still and listened.  There it was again!  That wasn't water dripping, and it wasn't a rat scurrying among the bones.  Something large was shuffling around in the darkness!

After a pause, it moved again, and I heard a faint rasping laugh.

Either it was a vengeful ghost, or SOMEBODY WAS ALIVE IN THERE!!

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