4

Polish entered the chamber he shared with the princess. Amm and her maid were packing clothes into a large trunk. He noticed that Amm was also packing his robes.

"What are you doing, Amm? Why are you packing me?" he asked, surprised.

"Oh, I didn't notice you come in." She smiled warmly and continued packing. "You're going with me to the capital. You need something to change into.

" "What do you mean I'm going with you?!

Don't raise your voice, my love. We're leaving tomorrow.

" "But the king ordered all the men..."

"Father won't notice one missing..."

"He definitely will notice me missing."

Amm walked up to him and threw her arms around his neck.

"Do you think I'd let you stay in the city to die? I love you too much," she kissed him and went back to packing. "Besides, do you want to be there when your child is born?" she said with a warm smile and embraced her round belly.

Lichen said nothing more. His mind was spinning. He felt angry that Amm had decided for him. He knew that if he did as his wife wanted, he would look like a coward. At first, he wanted to object, but he was afraid to stay in Praag. He was afraid of facing the Army of Chaos. Of being left in a besieged city that would become hell on earth. Thanks to Amm, he would leave the city with her tomorrow. He would be with her when his child was born.

***

A cold evening was approaching. Snowflakes danced in the gusty wind. Praag was far behind. They rode in a sleigh because the ground was still covered with a hard crust of snow. Many of the sleighs had wheels on the backs, ready to be fitted when the thaw came. Soon they would set up camp, and thousands of women and children who had abandoned their husbands and fathers would rest after the tiring journey and shed nightly tears of longing and fear. The convoy was protected by a detachment of only two hundred mounted men-at-arms, and only because of the royal family. Poprost sat with Amm in the open sleigh, covered in furs. He was torn apart by the departure—or rather, by the flight. The guards averted their faces as he approached, whispered behind his back, and refused to answer his questions. He, who had instilled hope and courage into the hearts of the soldiers, was now fleeing like a coward. Poprost could not forgive himself for this and remained silent the entire journey.

A terrifying, feminine scream tore him from his thoughts. Far behind, panic erupted. The startled horses surged forward like madmen. The entire convoy galloped. Poprost stood on his seat and saw. Winged beasts fell from the gray sky, tearing and slaughtering the fugitives. He jumped onto a horse tied to the sleigh and took Lenra. He rode the reluctant horse toward the winged beasts. He released the reins and, guiding the horse with the iron grip of his thighs, lifted Lenra and played. But the instrument wouldn't listen. It didn't play properly. The notes were off, and the melody was dead, devoid of any harmony. The winged beasts constantly snatched victims and, with blood-curdling roars, reveled in their cruelty. Several of them raced after the wagons toward the front of the column. Poprostus thought of Amm. He struck the horse on the sides and raced back with all his might. On the royal sleigh sat a three-headed reptile, which rose into the air, clutching the struggling princess in its claws. Poprostus screamed. Adrenaline crashed through him in a powerful wave. He leaped to the wagon and grabbed his crossbow, firing it at the beast. He hit it, and the monster released Amm. She fell. It lasted a few seconds, the longest of his life. Her body thudded against the hard snow.

He wanted to run to her... to save her... to help her. He wanted to murder her, to take revenge...

But he stood there.

He stared blankly at the place where she had died. Died. And with her, his heart died. She died, and with her, his soul died. She died, and with her, the world died. The world died, losing its color by a sound. Only empty images swirled before his eyes. Silence... everything became silence...

But through that silence, something pierced. A soft singing. A singing that filled the silence. He remembered that melody... it was her melody. It was the lullaby he had heard when he was born. It was the voice of his Mother...

The singing grew louder. There was no more silence. The singing filled his dead heart, his dead soul, and the dead world. There was anger in the melody. Anger growing with each note. Until the melody became pure anger. It became a volcanic eruption, an earthquake, an ocean storm, a thunderstorm; it became the anger of Mother Earth.

Her anger became his anger. Her scream became his scream. Her desire for destruction became his.

***

Those who survived the convoy said a terrible storm suddenly struck. The wind tossed the wagons, the thunder deafened, and the lightning blinded. The earth spat boulders that tore apart beasts. Plants sprang from the earth, piercing the sky. After the storm, the refugees awoke in a flourishing forest, where previously there had been smooth steppe.

The defenders of Praag recall a pitch-black storm that rolled over the city and erupted in the Northern Wastes. Distant thunder deafened the defenders. The Chaos Army did not arrive for many days, so a reconnaissance party was sent out and stumbled upon a gigantic forest that had not been there before. Mutants were strung up on the branches of the trees, as if the tree were nailing the Chaos Army as it grew.

A few days after the reconnaissance team returned, Zoltan organized an armed expedition that traversed several miles of forest and entered the Troll Country. To their surprise, they found no living Trolls. Instead, they saw many charred bones. They finally reached a place where the land should have been completely tainted by Chaos. However, these areas were covered with fresh grass, and crystal-clear springs gushed from many places.

Similar news came from the far north. The land, tainted by Chaos for hundreds of years, was coming back to life. The first insects and birds were returning. Life was being born anew.