The Purple Jade Palace: The Hummingbird's Plan

It Only Gets Worse

It looked like the camp had suffered a severe storm that had uprooted tents, knocked over chairs and sent bowls and cups flying through the air. Blood was smeared across the ground, and as Jale walked his horse past the kitchen, he saw the pile of bodies that had been placed outside.

Jale gagged at the sight of the Netle and his kitchen boys. Only the heartless would kill those who were weak and unable to defend themselves properly. He turned and headed towards his tent, fear mounting in his chest. He hadn't seen Drean amongst the bodies. Had he managed to fight back or escape?

Jale rounded a corner and stopped short.

It was as if he had been punched in the stomach and the air had been knocked out of his lungs. He dismounted his horse and ran the rest of the way towards Drean's body, his legs collapsing under him as his mind processed the carnage his eyes were seeing.

"No, no, no," he uttered to himself, ignoring the blood in the snow seeping into his trousers and making them soggy.

It was too late.

He could tell by how still and lifeless Drean's body was.

Gently, he eased Drean over. A sob escaped Jale's mouth when he saw the state Drean was in; the bloody swollen eye, the thick lip, the blood that had escaped his mouth, and the thick jagged gash across his neck. Jale noted Drean's arms tied behind his back. That was no way to die. He had been defenseless and unable to fight.

Jale's thoughts turned to chaos and his body was unable to process his surging emotions; sorrow, rage, regret and then disbelief. One emotion started to push out the others. Jale's chest heaved and sucked in large gulps of air. He wasn't even aware. He was moving on pure instinct.

This was a kind of rage he had never felt or known before. He didn't know where the anger originated from, it surged through his body too quickly. He would avenge Drean's death. No matter how long it took, he would find those who were responsible.

Amongst the other dead bodies, Jale suddenly spied the arrows. They were red like all the blood that had been spilled. They were different to the ones his men used as well as the mountain clansmen. Their uniqueness jolted his rational thoughts to the present, to that very moment. Someone had tried to help Drean. Small arrows, arrows that didn't belong to his soldiers or the mountain clansmen.

A sudden noise came from behind, and Jale tried to retrieve the dagger from his side, his sword unavailable in the position he was in. He cursed. His anger and grief had distracted him. Just when he had promised to avenge Drean's death, he would be dead before he had any idea of how he was going to go about it.

Jale swivelled on his knee and frowned in confusion. He had turned in time to see one of his men crumble to the floor. Their hand was outstretched with a blade pointing in Jale's direction, only now the soldier had a knife protruding from his neck.

Delba stood over his body and looked at Jale.

"What in all the hells happened here?" she asked. "Your soldier was just about to kill you."

She held out her hand towards Jale to help him up, her eyes landing on Drean's dead body.

"No!" she breathed. She swept a pitiful glance at Jale and stepped towards him. "I'm so sorry, Jale."

Jale didn't answer. Pain and anger were etched all over his face, it coursed through his whole body. He was cold then hot, his knees trembled and his arms shook. The horror of this day! Jale worried that it would scar him for life. No, in actual fact, he wanted it to scar him. He never wanted to forget this day. To never forget Drean. To never forget the people who had betrayed him.