The Legion moved. Callum was sitting in a wooden prison cart, covered by a tarp. He had no idea what was going on outside, had heard nothing from Zym or Rayla since he'd been chucked in here.
He was still feeling absolutely numb, failing to process anything that had happened. The scouts had brought them to a lower ranking commander, who had taken Rayla's body from him. Then, after hearing his story, she had ordered him locked up.
Azymondias... he couldn't seem to recall, and he was aware that he should feel terrible for it.
In the moment, his world had consisted of her alone.
The flap of the tarp was moved aside. It was the lower ranking commander, he couldn't remember her name. She probably hadn't said it.
Clearly earthblood, her expression was stern but her face streaked by wrinkles around her startlingly cyan eyes that showed how much she smiled. Her greying hair was hanging in loose, chaotic curls, stopping at her shoulders. She was wrapped in an intricately woven, living armor. It consisted of bark and vines, coiling around her like snakes. As she regarded him, she sat back and a few of the vines moved to support her in mid-air.
"How is Rayla?", he asked without preamble.
"Is this some sort of sick joke?", her expression froze further, "You would do well to keep her name out of your mouth, Abuser. Your supposed explanation has failed to satisfy. Who are you, really? What is your business here?"
"I told you. My name is Callum. I am a prince of Katolis. We are on a mission to prevent the war."
"Oh, I'm sure.", she laughed cooly, "Listen. You are not preventing anything. In fact, what you did to Rayla has merely bolstered my resolve to wipe you scum off the earth."
"I didn't do anything to her.", Callum's body shuddered at the thought, "She's my girlfriend. We love each other."
The elf scoffed. "You are the most disgusting liar I've ever met.", she got up, "I can see you will have to stew some more before we can have this conversation earnestly."
Callum shook his head. "The truth is all I have. We were travelling. She was attacked. I killed her attacker. I ran to get help."
The elf looked at him with… what, pity? Disgust? He couldn't tell. "My name is Lessa.", her smoke-like voice rang out with what he assumed was anger and grief, "I've known Rayla since she was as tall as a spriggan. I cradled her in my arms and tended to her while her parents did their duty. She was not raised to love humans, and she never did.", she stared daggers at him, "Your story has an even more obvious plot hole, Abuser, there was nobody else where we found you. Think on it. I have time."
With that, the older woman departed, leaving him number than he had been when she showed up. She had tacitly confirmed what he'd been thinking since handing over his girlfriend's lifeless body.
She was really, truly dead.
There were no tears to be had, he felt nothing.
It was simply good to know. A fact of life.
His mind checked the box and moved on.
Lessa… Lessa… Rayla had mentioned this name, but when?
No sense worrying about it now. He'd have time to think about her later.
Check.
Next thought.
He'd seen Kel fall, had seen her corpse. What was this supposed to mean? Was she alive? Kel had not looked alive. Callum knew what a body looked like, the picture stitched into his mind since his mother's open casket. No way she was alive.
Check.
Next thought.
He laid on his back, nothing better to do than staring at his prison, already too familiar. He had dropped all of their equipment, including his sketchbook. Suddenly, a whizzing sound broke the air and an arrow tore through the tarp, passing through the bars of the cart. Callum's body jerked away from the impact.
It was an eagle arrow.
Through the hole in the tarp, he could see tentacle trees go past in fading daylight.
"Oh. It's evening."
Check.
Next thought.
He unlatched the arrow's head, withdrawing the message.
"Sicarius Rayla. War is being declared on the twenty-second day of Septem..."
There was more to the short, hastily written letter, but Callum dropped it.
It was addressed to her. What did it matter now?
She was dead.
He was locked up.
Zym was forgotten.
Their failure couldn't be more clear than that.
There was more activity near the tarp's opening and following a strange impulse, he stashed the arrow and letter under some hay in the corner.
The gate unlatched and a guard ducked inside. He he put a bag over Callum's head.
"What day is it?", Callum asked.
"September twenty-first", the guard said gruffly, shoving him out of the cart, "Move, scum."
"Where are we going?"
"We do not want you to relieve yourself in the cart."
Great.
This was going to be a ritual for him.