The Man or the Monster by Aamna Qureshi

Author:Aamna Qureshi [Qureshi, Aamna]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: CamCat Publishing

Three days later, the gates fell.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Durkhanai received the reports.

Once the canons broke down the boulders surrounding the gates, the gates fell easily, quickly. Wakdar’s army was merciless, as was the combined army of the other zillas. They advanced up the mountain quickly.

Most villages surrendered to Wakdar once they found out the Badshah was colluding with the Kebzu Kingdom. They now accepted Wakdar as the Badshah.

Durkhanai was hurt by this, but she understood why. How could she blame them? Especially when the consequences were so clear for denying Wakdar what he imagined was his birthright.

The consequences she saw before her now, in Kajali.

Or, what was once Kajali.

The entire village was in ruins. The fields were burned down, houses destroyed, and everything was muddy, though upon further inspection, it was clear the dirt was not wet with rain, but blood.

The blood of her people. The people she could not protect.

Durkhanai stood there, alone in the quiet night, the sights etching into her memories. Leaves rustled above her, and the moon was a harsh, white curve in the dark sky.

It was a small village, perhaps twenty families, a little over a hundred people, and there were none left. No survivors. The rancid smell of decaying bodies filled the air, and Durkhanai resisted the urge to gag, to cover her nose. Instead, she breathed it in.

The people of Kajali had refused to bow to Wakdar. They had been the first village to do so, to reject him, and this was the result of such loyalty to the Badshah.

Loyalty to the Badshah—or loyalty to her? For hadn't she said once that while her grandfather wore the crown, she was the face the people knew?

What good was it? Their love for her? All it brought them was ruin.

Had she not held these same children in her arms just a few days ago? Had she not conversed with the women as they hung their laundry, and listened to the mens’ singing as they tended to their animals? Their love had renewed her, given her the flare of life and motivation she had needed, and now they were all gone.

This is what their love for her had brought them—death and destruction.

This was her fault just as much as it was Wakdar’s. What did her intentions matter when the end result was this? Didn’t her father, and her grandfather for that matter, also believe they had good intentions? What did any of that matter, when all they did was hurt people?

How was she any different? Any better?

Was there even any point in trying?

“Shehzadi, it isn’t safe for you here,” a guard said, appearing by her side. Durkhanai turned to see a group of guards, all on high alert. She had snuck out after hearing the news, and now they were here to collect her.

Nodding in compliance, Durkhanai strolled forward, and the guards created a formation around her. She went with them, mouth dry. The quickest way out was through, so they walked along the carnage. She did not look away.

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