The decapitated head hit the ground with a meaty thud and the body stood for a second before its knees gave way. It fell to reveal the woman standing behind Lehgan, a babe cradled in the crook of her left elbow and the short sword dangling in the grip of her right hand. Her eyes were sunken, her body thinner and more fragile than Khirro remembered.
The sword dropped from her hand and she crumpled after it, falling to her knees as sobs tore from her throat. Khirro stepped toward her.
“Emeline?”
He threw the Mourning Sword aside and dropped to his knees beside her, reaching out to touch her back as it heaved with sobs, but he didn’t touch her. She cried and held the baby tight to her chest, and the baby cried, too. Khirro took his hand back and waited, recognizing this was likely the second time she lamented Lehgan’s death.
Lehgan is dead.
He felt numb, as though he’d been submerged in snow and all his nerves were frozen. His brother was dead, and he’d come to the fortress with the woman Khirro once thought the only woman he’d ever love. The two of them, together.
But you knew, didn’t you?
He had. Somewhere deep inside him, he’d known from the start. And after the passing of time, and the things he’d been through, she was no longer the only woman he’d ever loved, for he’d also loved Elyea.
“Khirro?”
This time, the voice unmistakably belonged to Graymon. Khirro twisted around so quickly, he nearly toppled over. Graymon stood a few yards away, arms dangling by his sides, a look of fear and desperation on his face. Tears streaked his cheeks.
“Graymon.” Khirro held his arms out for the boy to come to him. “I thought I told you to run.”
The boy shuffled toward him, in no hurry to reach him. When he did, he remained outside of Khirro’s reach, avoiding his embrace.
“Who're they?”
Khirro looked toward the others.
“That,” he said pointing at Lehgan, “was my brother. Once. Before the bad lady made him into a monster. And this is my friend, Emeline. I don’t know the baby.”
Emeline raised her head and sniffled deeply. “Iana,” she said and sobbed again. “You…I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
Khirro nodded. “I know, Emeline.” He allowed himself to touch her back and found no urgency in the touch like he might, no sense of connection or longing. Instead, it felt like the touch of a man consoling a friend.
They stayed that way for a while-her crying and calming the baby, him with his hand on her back. He thought about his brother, and Elyea, and all the other people he’d lost since his cursed journey began. Brave people who didn’t deserve their fates.
Graymon wandered a short way away and plunked himself down on the ground, collecting rocks and building one of his little stone pyramids. Khirro glanced over at him periodically to ensure he was safe, and looked around the courtyard, but it seemed they were alone.
“What happened here?”
Emeline looked up and wiped her tears away on her sleeve.
“The Archon took her troops to intercept the army coming from Achtindel.” A deep breath shuddered into her chest and out again. “She left some behind, but Therrador raised what soldiers were left in the fortress and-”
“My da?” Graymon scuffled over to them on his hands and knees. “My da is okay?”
Wide-eyed, Emeline looked at the boy, then at Khirro.
He nodded, answering her unasked question. “He is Therrador’s son.”
She bowed her head. “My prince. Your father fought bravely and triumphed over our enemies.”
Graymon stood a little straighter and a smile struggled its way onto his face.
“My da is a brave hero.”
Khirro regarded the corpses strewn across the courtyard and saw equal numbers of headless Erechanians as he did Kanosee.
This is triumph?
A heat started inside him, flowing out of his chest and into his limbs, and he felt the spirit of the king angered by the fall of so many of his people. Khirro struggled to keep the tyger at bay.
“Where is Therrador now?” he asked.
“He took what soldiers remained and went after the Archon’s army.”
“How long ago?”
“I don’t know.”
“How long?” The question came out with more force than he intended; Emeline flinched and shook her head.
“Two days, maybe three.”
Khirro stood and retrieved the Mourning Sword. “I have to go. It may already be too late.”
He unslung the sword’s scabbard from his back and replaced the short sword’s with it on his hip. When he slid the sword back into its place, it felt familiar, comforting; a feeling he never expected to have from a sword hanging on his belt. He beckoned Graymon to him and this time the boy allowed him to place his arm around his shoulders.
“Graymon, you will stay here with Emeline. She’ll take care of you.”
“But I want to see my da.”
Khirro crouched to look him in the eye. “I’m sorry, Graymon, but seeing your father must wait. Your safety is most important. Emeline will-”
“I’m not staying.”
The resolve in her voice made Khirro cock his head. The skin over her pronounced cheek bones looked tight with dried tears, but her eyes shone with bright determination. Khirro sucked on his bottom lip, deciding how to tell her she wouldn’t be accompanying him.
“I head into battle, Emeline, and that is no place for a woman and a child. Certainly no place for a baby.”
“A fortress where my dead husband attacked you, where monsters might lurk in the shadows is no place for us.”
Graymon shifted out from under Khirro’s arm and went to Emeline’s side. She put her arm around him and he rested his head on her shoulder.
“Emeline, I-”
“We are going with you, Khirro. You can hide us somewhere when we get close if you want, but we’re not staying here.”
Her unwavering gaze held his and he saw in her eyes that he wouldn’t be able to talk her out of going with him. He breathed a sigh of cold winter air in through his nose and out his mouth, then nodded slowly.
“All right,” he said and Graymon let out a cheer.
If only he understood.
Khirro surveyed the courtyard and recalled the donkey they’d seen trot across it.
“Do you know if there are any horses left?”
“I’ve been hiding since Lehgan…” Her voice trailed off and her eyes dropped to the headless corpse of her husband. She looked at it for a second, then averted her gaze.
“We have to see what we can find, and gather all the supplies we can. And we need to move quickly.”
He offered Emeline help to stand and she took his hand; it surprised him again that he felt no emotion at her touch. So much time had passed, taking so much emotion with it.
They started across the courtyard, in search of a way to catch up to the battle, and Khirro found himself wishing Athryn was with them, that he could draw blood and the magician would transport them where they needed to go, even if it meant a scar and a nasty headache. But Athryn was likely gone to join his brother-and Elyea, and Shyn-in the land of the dead. And now Lehgan had joined them, too. He felt a tightness in his chest.
And now I head off to war with a woman, a child and a baby. If our luck fails, we will all be with them soon.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Sword clashed against sword, axe clanked on armor, men shouted and injured horses howled.
The sounds of battle washed over the Archon watching the melee from her horse atop the hill. The grass of the plain was already beaten flat and stained red; the winter wind brought the taste of blood to her tongue, the smell of death to her nose. She breathed deep and savored it.