“Kaisik, my son,” Raidan murmured gently, laying his hand on the boy’s heaving shoulder. “Your brother gave his life to protect the elven people. He would not want his death to be your undoing.”
Kaisik looked up at his father with anguished, streaming eyes. “Yes, Father, I know,” the boy whispered. “I loved him. He always looked after me…I’ll miss him.”
Raidan wanted to fall to his knees, gather both his sons in his arms and give vent to his own grief, but he couldn’t.
Not in front of my army.
“Your Highness.” Sen appeared at Raidan’s elbow, then said in a low voice, “I’m so very sorry, Raidan. You know I understand.”
“Yes, my friend, you do.”
“Let us take Raidu to the chapel,” Sen urged. “Odata’s priest can see to his body.”
Raidan felt numb. He heard and saw everything around him, but it seemed as if he no longer inhabited his own skin; instead, he watched from a distance as his body moved and spoke. “Yes, yes. That would…yes,” he murmured, then without thinking, he added, “Sen, your own son…”
“Is safe, my lord. He took our Kerala contingent out to guard the pass.”
Raidan shook his head, realizing Sen had misunderstood, but before he could say anything further, a commotion at the gates drew his attention.
A scout had just arrived. She pushed through the crowd to reach him and bowed.
“Your Highness, the enemy has reached the pass and they show no signs of slowing down. The humans have fled the valley!”
A great cheer rose up, but died quickly as those assembled remembered the terrible tragedy that had befallen their prince.
“We’ve survived, against all odds.” Raidan raised his voice so all in the yard could hear. “Do not restrain your joy because of my loss. The Empire is beaten!”
For now.
The Final Confrontation
So dark…cold…
Can’t move…
He tried to take a breath, but could draw no air into his lungs.
Where am I?
Surrounded, imprisoned, crushed by a great weight…
His eyes, nostrils, mouth, filled with…
Dirt!
I’m buried…alive!
I’m alive!
Struggling against the earth that held him captive, Ashinji clawed his way through soil and gravel, up toward where instinct told him he would find air, light, and life. When his scrabbling hands broke the surface, he heaved himself free, staggered to his feet, then clutched his belly and doubled over.
He spent an eternity choking up gobbets of dirty spit, and when at last he could breathe without coughing, he stood upright and looked around, eyes and nose streaming.
He had emerged from beneath the roots of a lightning-blasted tree that stood like a lonely sentinel atop a small hill. The moon sailed high overhead, a silver crescent amid a field of stars.
Where am I?
His head felt thick and fuzzy.
Off to his right, he saw a constellation of rosy, earthbound stars arrayed before a wall of deeper darkness.
Campfires…that’s an army out there, but which one?
Crickets sang among the shrubs bearding the hill. A nightjar swooped by overhead. Ashinji brushed dirt clods from his hair and dug a small pebble from his right ear. In his slightly befuddled state, he couldn’t decide what to do. He sank to the ground and rested his head on his knees.
I’ve got to think…
He had no explanation for how he had come to be entombed beneath a dead tree far from the walls of Tono Castle. The last clear memory he had before regaining consciousness was of going over the parapet, the creature that had been Sonoe struggling and shrieking like a mad harpy in his arms.
The world is still here…That means I did the right thing, but how did I survive?
He sat for a while longer until the fog in his head cleared.
I must be near the mouth of the pass. That camp is too small to be the Soldaran army. Besides, if they’d beaten us, why leave behind any troops out here? There’d be no reason for them to guard the pass. No, that camp must be ours.
Ashinji climbed to his feet, then took a mental inventory of his body. Aside from a few scratches on his face and neck, he seemed to be intact. No serious pain, all parts present and accounted for. He could not say the same for his clothes, however, which hung in tatters from his limbs.
He tried to conjure a magelight, but could only manage a spark, which flared on his palm for a heartbeat, then sputtered out. He reached into the well of energy that fueled his Talent, and to his dismay, found it flickering near total depletion. Pulling the shreds of his clothes around him as best he could, he started walking toward the camp. The moist ground felt good beneath his bare feet. A bark of laughter escaped his cracked lips.
What a fearsome sight I must be, all ragged and caked with dirt! No one will recognize me!
With brutal suddenness, the memory of the knife biting into Jelena’s breast flashed before his mind’s eye. He stumbled to a halt.
I’ve killed my wife and taken my child’s mother away from her! How can I live with that?
He groaned aloud and lifted his face to the coolly glittering stars. The pain simmering in his gut exploded into anger.
If I hadn’t been denied my birthright…if I’d been trained as a mage, maybe I could have found a way to defeat the Nameless One without having to kill Jelena, my one true love!
No. This is useless, raging about what might have been. What’s done is done. If we hadn’t gone through with it, then everything would have been lost, gone, devoured by the Void.
A streak of light flashed across the heavens.
A falling star…maybe it’s a sign.
Ashinji took a deep breath and let the anger drain from him.
Perhaps the Kirians will succeed in bringing Jelena back. Dare I hope for a miracle?
He started walking again.
He had gone about two dozen paces when he heard a whistle off to his right, followed closely by another to his left, then another straight ahead.
Elven sentries. Ashinji sighed with relief.
First thing…food. I need to eat. It’s been at least two days, I think. Then, some fresh clothes. Can’t very well go about naked, can I? Then…then I have to find Father…and Sadaiyo.
I wonder how Sadaiyo will react when he learns his despised little brother has returned from the dead?
How will I react when I see him?
How many times had he cursed Sadaiyo’s name the past year?
Too many to count.
Every time he had stood on the sands of the Great Arena in Darguinia, sword in hand, facing death yet again for the sport of humans.
Every time I got cut…every time I had to kill to survive…
Every time a human spat on me and called me ‘tink’.
Yet, to his surprise, despite how hard he tried to dredge up the bitter anger that had kept him going those long months, Ashinji found the fires he had just survived had burned his soul clean of hate. He would never feel anything close to affection for Sadaiyo-too much had happened between them-but he knew now he could, if not forgive, then at least choose not to seek revenge.