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They made a sharp turn through the sands toward an older roadway—one not as well maintained or well traversed as the others. Fallen stones and scorched debris littered the path. The men skirted the wreckage as though they were working their way around an ancient labyrinth. Khalid’s frustration grew at their stalled pace.
Soon they pushed past several stragglers and into the city proper. As they wound their way through its outskirts, the proof of all that had been lost drove them silent.
Drove them still for a gut-wrenching moment.
Much of Rey was still burning. Now it was no longer a ruined labyrinth but rather a maze of destruction. A maze to mirror his thoughts—lost. Directionless. The smoke and the smell clogged Khalid’s throat. The heat caused him to pull his dark rida’ back from his head. He took in the sight, even as many of his men’s horses whickered away from the blaze in fear. Scorched metal lay melting at their feet, further halting their progress.
Devastation. All around them lay devastation.
It was impossible to gauge the true cost of this onslaught.
It was impossible to know what could have levied such destruction.
For at first glance what appeared to be the result of a siege was now anything but. There were no signs of siege warfare anywhere. No arrows in the dirt. No ballistae iron buried into stone walls.
No signs of an encroaching army.
Instead, Khalid saw a woman pressed against the remains of a fruit stand. Squashed melons lay strewn about, their sickly sweet smell weaving through the noxious fumes. The woman was silent. Still. At her feet, a small child whimpered. Pleading with her to wake up.
Before Khalid could dismount, the soldier at his side had slid to the ground and scooped the little boy into an embrace. Though the gesture of kindness warmed Khalid, it did little to assuage his fears. Little to mitigate his fury.
They moved toward the palace at the city’s center, the small boy riding before his rescuer.
The men paused outside the palace gates. They were smashed to pieces, as though something had torn them from their moorings and hurled them through the sky. The damage stole Khalid’s breath. No weapon he could envision was capable of such destruction, save for a giant ax cleaving through the very battlements. Battlements of iron and steel and stone. Battlements that were meant to withstand a siege for days, if not weeks.