Raidan nodded his head in silent respect. He looked up at the sky and saw that much of the morning had already passed. He had lost all sense of the flow of time while kneeling by Raidu’s body in the smoky dimness of the chapel, aware only of the bitter truth of his eldest son’s death.
With the messenger leading the way, Raidan left the chapel then walked down the gravel path to the main gate of the castle, Kaisik trailing after him like a mournful ghost. He spotted Sen standing amidst a group of his Kerala troops. Of Sen’s eldest son, he saw no sign, but Ashinji stood beside him, his face cut and bruised as if he had been in a vicious fight. A shrouded body on a stretcher lay on the gravel between them.
“The elven people owe you a debt of gratitude too great to repay, Captain Sakehera,” Raidan said as he approached.
Ashinji’s gaze dropped to the body, then back up to meet Raidan’s. “I only did what I had to do, Highness,” the younger man replied.
Raidan shook his head. “You are far too modest, young man. You forget that I know a little about what you faced.” He turned to Sen. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you that I’d seen your son alive, my friend. I tried, but then the sorrow over my own son’s fate overcame me and I couldn’t speak.”
“It seems we must both endure the same agony this day,” Sen replied. He bent over the shrouded body then pulled back a fold of the cloth to reveal the face of his eldest son.
“Ai, Sen!” Raidan exclaimed in dismay. “But how…I saw your Heir alive and well after the battle!”
“An accident, old friend. A terrible, senseless accident took the life of my son.” Sen had never feared to show his emotions, and he made no effort to hide his tears now.
“Your son shall lie beside mine in the chapel until we are ready to depart. When we return to Sendai, the death rites shall be performed for both of them in the Royal Chapel.”
“I am honored, Majesty.” Sen bowed his head into one hand and rested the other on Ashinji’s shoulder.
“I am sorry for your loss, Majesty,” Ashinji said. Raidan inclined his head in thanks, and, looking into the younger man’s eyes, he saw the terrible truth, and felt no surprise.
Perhaps, in a general sense, Sadaiyo Sakehera’s death was an accident. I saw this coming a year ago, back when Sen first returned to Sendai with his sons to begin work on the planning of Alasiri’s defense.
Such poisonous jealousy between two brothers could only have ended in tragedy.
Raidan looked at his own son, standing bleak and hollow-eyed beside him, and realized that even though he had misunderstood the bond between Kaisik and his brother, the two of them had understood it perfectly well, and had cherished it.
For that I will always be grateful.
Raidan reached out to lay a hand on Sen’s shoulder. “Come to the great hall, my friend, and together, we will drink to the memories of our sons.”
Reflections and Farewells
Jelena opened her eyes, then squeezed them shut again.
“Where am I?” she whispered.
Why does everything seem so bright? “Am I dead?”
No, Jelena. You are most definitely not dead. You are home, child, and you are safe.
“Oh.” She tried to move, then realized her mistake. “Uhhhhh!”
Keep still, Jelena. You are badly injured. You must lie still.
“What happened…Hatora! Where is she?”
Shhhhh, child. Don’t fret.
“Where…where…is Ashi?”
Sleep now, Jelena.
“Jelena, can you hear me?”
“Mmmmm.”
“Jelena, it’s me. Time to wake up, love.”
“Ashi?”
“Yes, love. Wake up, now.”
Jelena opened her eyes. Ashinji looked down at her, smiling, as beautiful as an angel. “How long have I been asleep?”
“Eleven days.”
“ Eleven …is it over? Did we…”
“It is and we did.”
“Oh.” Jelena pondered for a moment what that meant, then turned her mind inward, searching.
The blue fire was gone.
On the twelfth day of Monzen, three days after the army returned to Sendai, the Rites for the Dead were sung in the Royal Chapel of Sendai Castle for Raidu Onjara and Sadaiyo Sakehera.
After the High Priest and Priestess had consecrated the bodies, an honor guard carried each man to his own funeral pyre. The pyres stood side by side in the courtyard of the chapel, the prince’s a spear’s length higher than Sadaiyo’s.
Each man’s father lit his own son’s pyre and as the flames consumed the kindling and roared to life, a chorus of clerics raised their voices in a hymn to speed the departed souls to the bosom of The One.
Though still weak from her ordeal, Jelena insisted on accompanying the rest of the family to the funeral. As Sen and Amara’s daughter-in-law, she wanted to show her support for them in their time of mourning; as Raidu’s cousin, she also wished to stand with her uncle and aunt, the new rulers of Alasiri.
Throughout the service, Ashinji betrayed no outward sign of his emotional turmoil. Jelena felt his terrible sorrow through the mental link they shared, and the tears she shed fell for him and no one else.
That night, both families came together to share a quiet repast and memories of happier times.
The following morning, the morticians collected the charred remains, pulverized them then sealed them into ornate urns. Raidan carried Raidu’s urn down to the tomb complex beneath the chapel where generations of Onjaras slept in dusty silence, then laid his son to rest.
Sen and Amara had Sadaiyo’s urn packed in a sturdy hardwood box for the journey home to Kerala. Sen wanted to depart before the end of the month, in order to get home in time to try to salvage the last of the spring planting.
Two days after Raidu and Sadaiyo’s funeral rites, the royal morticians brought King Keizo’s body up from the crypt where he had been placed in a temporary coffin until the return of his brother, then laid the king out on the main altar of the chapel. Multiple preservation spells had kept the body from immediate decay, but over two weeks had passed since the king’s death and even the most potent preservation spell had its limits; for this reason Raidan ordered that the corpse remain shrouded.
The sun rose and set three times and still, the line of folk waiting to pay their final respects to their deceased king did not abate. City folk and farmers from the countryside, minor nobility and merchants, laborers and off-duty soldiers, okui and hikui alike; all stood united in their collective grief. All believed the king had died of the plague-Raidan decided it served no purpose to allow the people to know the truth of Keizo’s death.
As for the fate of Sonoe, the King’s Companion, the official version of events stated she had perished while taking part in the magical defense of Alasiri, and that her body had not been recovered.
When Jelena learned of Sonoe’s betrayal and the circumstances of her death, she cried, not for the betrayal itself, but for the lost soul of the woman she called her friend. Even though she knew everyone else involved disagreed, Jelena chose to believe the friendship she had shared with her father’s consort had been genuine, at least on some level. Sonoe had fallen under the control of an entity whose corrupting power had proven impossible to resist. Jelena remained convinced her friend had been a victim of the Nameless One, just as she, herself had almost been.