The Union - Chapter 246 Sacrifice

The summer son was frying the top of Ash’s hair. The soft strands were now crisp. The smooth flowing hair she once had, that of a noblewoman, had turned into a ragged mess.

She didn’t care. There were things more important than her hair. Her throat was dry. Her body felt heavy. Her trudge dragged. She was beginning to hallucinate, seeing her father and her mother and some people she doesn’t even know. One time Ash saw the Queen and she blamed Ash for all that happened. It was just a product of her imagination. But it still hurt. Because it was true.

They lost Mythrille. Eastern Canton had rebelled against them. Goldentooth legion was still out there and probably destroyed. It was a disaster of her doing- of her incompetence.

Birds circled their group from above. Vultures probably, waiting for a corpse to gnaw at. It would not be long for the vultures to have their feast. Many of the Castonians were weakened by dehydration. They found a drinking hole earlier but the first man who drank from it collapsed after a few breaths and died thereafter. It was a tricky business dealing with the Wismarines. They poison everything.

And then there were the guerrillas. Some rebels would just descend unto them all of a sudden and then retreat, leaving corpses in their wake. The rebels were too smart to invite a full battle. They knew that facing Castonians, even dehydrated, starving and exhausted Castonians, would be deadly. And so the attacks continued, nipping their group. The vultures were happy. The rebels were happy. They were dying.

Harold pushed a canteen on her arm. It was dusty and filthy. The leather smells like sweat.

“A f-few drops remain. Have it”

Ash was tempted to have a taste of water again. Her tongue and her throat cried for a taste of moisture. She was dry and she was dying. She would probably collapse soon. But the few drops belonged to Harold. She needed it more than him but Harold was more important than her. The King of Canton dying would shake the alliance between Canton and the Union. She couldn’t let that happen.

Ash pushed the canteen back. She shoved the neck into Harold’s grasp. “It’s filthy. I apologize but I cannot”

“Oh” Harold bought her lie with a sigh. He then looked up thereafter. “But you need water. You are pale”

“And so are the rest of us. I am alright. We will find water soon”

The long march towards Heraldshome was still half done. It would take at least tomorrow to reach the city. But based on the state of the group, the slow pace of their trudge, it would probably take not less than two days. Already they lost dozens since their escape from Mythrille. They would lose hundreds in this journey. But not Harold. Ash had hidden a canteen full of water in case Harold need it.

The sun went from one direction to the other. It passing the zenith was a huge relief. They had survived the hottest part of the day. They must survive it again tomorrow and the next day and the next after that until they reach safety.

In the afternoon the clouds offered them shelter. Glory to the Omniscient for that. But then the rebels again assaulted the rear, a group of less than a hundred and yet the damage they caused was significant. Ash saw eight Castonians dead, laying in the sand. Two other Castonians were bleeding ugly wounds and were dying. One man had a broken leg. Some rebel hit him with an old mace.

A Centurion went to the man who was leaning against a corpse of another. His grimace displayed his pain.

“Can you walk?” The Centurion asked.

“No sir” The man forced an answer. “Broken. It’s broken.”

The Centurion shook his head and clicked his tongue. “You know we cannot carry you. None of the brothers have strength to do so. You have a choice. One is to wait here until we come back. Pray to the Omniscient that the rebels won’t find you or else they would play with you and make you suffer before they slit your throat. They would then desecrate your body like what they did to the others. The second choice is…” The Centurion looked down and then directed his eyes on the broken legs “You know what it is”

The Castonian nodded. Ash heard a long breath from him. And then there was this sadness on his eyes. This… realization. “I choose the second option sir. Long live the Union.” His voice was calm.

The Centurion looked back to Ash and then at the soldier. He drew his sword. It was dusty and yet the sharpness cannot be denied. The Centurion held the tip of the sword against the Castonian’s chest.

“I’m sorry. You served the Union well brother”

The Castonian nodded, stiff and with resolve.

With a single hard press, the Centurion slid the blade into the Castonian’s chest. Blood was smeared on the blade after the Centurion retracted it. The Castonian stiffed his body as life slowly squeezed out of him. His hand was gripping the Centurion’s shoulder until it fell limp.

“Let’s resume. Don’t fall behind. The less coherent we are, the more gaps they would find to do things like this again” The Centurion said after rising and cleaning his blade.

The weary trudge towards Heraldshome continued, lonelier than before. The sun set soon after, a welcomed gift of respite. But with the downing sun comes the cold night. Ash felt that she was closing on her limit. She was a noble and fitness wasn’t her strong side. Soon she felt dizzy and fell. Harold caught her fall and the march came to a stop. She was laid on the cold sand.

Several men ran to her aid. Her servant knelt to her and offered a canteen fat with water. Ash wanted to gulp that water in one go. She wanted to taste life again. But then she remembered that it was the same canteen she hid for Harold.

“No” Ash said amidst cracked lips. She shoved the canteen away.

“You n-need to drink. You w-will die” Harold said, supporting her head with his arms.

Ash gathered moisture in her mouth and tried to talk but no sound escaped, only dry long grunts. She was dying.

Harold took the canteen and gripped Ash’s jaw. He poured the water.

No, Ash was screaming in her mind despite the sweet taste of life. The water was reserved for Harold. It was his. Canton needed a King. She, on the other hand, was just a noblewoman who failed many times. Harold must live. He was the key to an end to this conflict.

She tried to reject the water but it flowed freely into her body. If felt good and bad at the same time. When it was over, the canteen was thin. Ash closed her eyes and felt a certain tranquility.

It was already morning when Ash regained her consciousness. She was being carried by several Castonians. All of them had bent backs and tired eyes. And yet they smiled after seeing her awake.

“Put me down” Ash said and soon her feet again felt the sand.

It was the same sight as before. Many of them were missing now, probably dead. She looked for Harold and saw him just beside her.

“How many more did we lose?”

“More than a h-hundred. The a-attacks have become bolder in the night”

Ash felt cold despite the warmth of the morning sun. A lot of them must have died of carrying her. She wanted to ask how many but did not to preserve her conscience.

So much for equality, she thought. The Castonian yesterday died because nobody could carry him. And now she was carried all night. It was not fair. She couldn’t hold a sword or thrust a spear. She doesn’t even know how to fasten an armor. And yet veteran Castonians died for her sake. Canton needed more soldiers than nobles.

She looked at Harold. He was pale. Harold gave her that water, she remembered.

“You shouldn’t have done that” Ash said “I was saving that canteen for you”

“I’m s-sorry but I can’t just watch you die”

“I’m thankful. I really am. But Canton needs you more than it needs me”

“And I n-need you more than I need to live” Harold’s answer surprised her a bit. Love was truly the death of logic.

“Thank you” Ash just said. It was done. The water was in her stomach now. There was nothing they can do.

Midday came like a storm. The heat was worse. The attack have become fiercer. And Harold fell. Ash tried to support Harold’s fall but she was too weak. Harold lay on the sand with the scorching sun above. He was dying, she knew. But she cannot do anything. It was a hopeless fight.

“Riders!” One of the Castonians then shouted.

It was over, Ash thought. The enemies had horses now. She watched as the riders approached, still clutching Harold on her lap. The Castonians and what remained of the Cantonese bared their weapons.

But soon the Castonians stiffed their bodies and presented a salute. They parted to let the riders in.

The riders trotted towards Ash. One of them dismounted. She looked up and saw a man, young and with a smile. His clothes were fine and a golden chain dangled across his chest.

“You are Ash right?” The man was grinning. “Well Ash, this is such a damn sorry sight”