The Vendan army was almost to the point. In seconds, they’d be on top of my brother’s small company, three hundred against thirty. I pleaded with Kaden to let me go. Kicked. Begged. Sobbed.
“You can’t reach them from here, Lia. By the time we get there—”
The Vendan army surged around the point.
I strained against Kaden’s hold. “Let go!” I screamed. “Walther!” But the wind threw my words back in my face. It was too late.
My world shifted in an instant from lightning speed to slow, stilted motion. Movement and sound were muffled as in a dream. But this was no dream. I watched two kingdoms meet, both taken by surprise. I saw a young man charge forward on a chestnut and white tobiano. A young man I knew to be strong and brave. A young man who was still in love, but consumed by grief. The one with the easy, crooked smile who had taken me along to card games, tweaked my nose, defended me against injustices, and showed me how to throw a knife. My brother. I watched him draw his weapon to bring justice for Greta. I watched five weapons drawn in return, a sword swung, and another, and another, and I watched him topple from his horse. And then a final sword stabbed his chest to finish the job. I watched my brother Walther die.
One after another, they fell—three, four, five against one in what wasn’t a battle at all but a massacre. The updraft was merciless, delivering every cry and scream in a windy rush. And then there was silence. My legs went limp, as if they weren’t even there, and I fell to the ground. Moans and screams filled my ears. I tore at my hair and my clothes. Kaden’s arms held me fast, keeping me from going over the edge of the cliff.
I finally slumped and looked down at the valley. The whole company lay dead. Vendans didn’t take prisoners. I huddled on the ground, holding my arms.
Kaden still held me from behind. He brushed the hair from my face and leaned close, rocking with me, whispering in my ear. “Lia, I’m sorry. There was nothing we could do.”
I stared at the littered bodies, their limbs twisted in unnatural positions. Walther’s horse lay dead beside him. Kaden slowly released his grip on me. I looked down at my bared shoulder, the fabric torn away, saw the crawl of claw and vine, tasted the bile in my throat, felt the trickle of mucus from my nose, listened to the choking quiet. I smoothed my skirt, felt my body swaying, rocking, as if the wind were blowing away what was left of me.
I sat there for minutes, seasons, years, the wind becoming winter against my skin, the day becoming night, then blinding again, harsh with detail. I closed my eyes, but the details still shone bright and demanding behind my lids, replacing a lifetime of memories with a single bloody image of Walther and then, mercifully, the image faded, everything faded, leaving only dull, numbing gray.
Finally, I watched my hands slide to my knees and push against them, forcing my body to stand. I turned and faced them. Eben stared at me, his eyes wide and solemn. Finch’s mouth hung half open.
I looked at Kaden. “My brother needs to be buried,” I said. “They all need to be buried. I won’t leave them for the animals.”
He shook his head. “Lia, we can’t—”
“We can take the east trail down,” Finch said.
* * *
Malevolence permeated the valley floor with the stench of blood still seeping into soil, the bowels of animals and men spilled from their bodies, the snorts and mewls of animals not yet dead and no one bothering to put them out of their misery. The fresh taste of terror hung in the air—This world, it breathes you in … shares you. Today the world wept with the last breaths of my brother and his comrades. Had my mother taken to her bedchamber? Was she already knowing this grief?
A fierce man, tall in his saddle, rode over to meet us with a squad, their swords drawn. I assumed he was the commander of the brutish lot. He wore a beard braided into two long strands. It was my first glimpse of true barbarians. Kaden and the others had dressed to blend in with the Morrighese. Not these. Small animal skulls hung in strings from their belts, creating a hollow clatter as they approached. Long tethers fringed their leather helmets, and their faces were made fearsome with stripes of black under their eyes.
When the commander recognized Kaden and the others, he lowered his sword and greeted them as if they were meeting for a picnic in a meadow. He ignored the decapitated and broken bodies strewn around him, but very quickly the salutations ceased and all gazes rested on me. Finch quickly explained that I didn’t speak their language.
“I’m here to bury the dead,” I said.
“We have no dead,” the commander answered in Morrighese. His accent was heavy, and his words were thick with distaste, as if I had suggested something vulgar.
“The others,” I told him. “The ones you killed.”
A sneer pinched his lip. “We don’t bury the bodies of enemy swine. They’re left to the beasts.”
“Not this time,” I answered.
He looked at Kaden in disbelief. “Who’s this mouthy bitch riding with you?”
Eben jumped in. “She’s our prisoner! Princess Arabella of Morrighan. But we call her Lia.”
Scorn lit the commander’s face and he sat back in his saddle, pushing up the visor of his studded helmet. “So you call her Lia,” he mocked as he glared at me. “As I said, my soldiers do not bury swine.”
“You’re not a good listener, Commander. I didn’t ask for your savages to bury them. I wouldn’t allow unworthy hands to touch noble Morrighan soldiers.”
The commander bolted forward in his saddle, his hand raised to strike me, but Kaden put his arm out to stop him. “She’s grieving, Chievdar. Don’t take her to task for her words. One of them is her brother.”
I prodded my horse forward so I was knee to knee with the commander. “I will say it again, Chievdar. I will bury them.”
“All? You will bury a whole company of men?” He laughed. The men with him laughed too. “Someone bring the princess a shovel,” he said. “Let her dig.”
* * *
I knelt in the middle of the field. My first duty was to bless the dead while their bodies were still warm. The tradition I had eschewed was now all that sustained me. I lifted my hands to the gods, but my songs flowed from that which was memorized to something new, utterances of another tongue, one that only the gods and the dead could understand, one wrung from blood and soul, truth and time. My voice rose, tossed, grieved, cut through the winds, and then became part of them, braided with the words of a thousand years, a thousand tears, the valley filling not with my voice alone but with the lamentations of mothers, sisters, and daughters of times past. It was a remembrance that rent distant heaven and bleeding earth, a song of contempt and love, bitterness and mercy, a prayer woven not of sounds alone but of stars and dust and evermore.
“And so shall it be,” I finished, “for evermore.”
I opened my eyes, and all around me soldiers had paused from their duties, watching me. I rose and picked up the shovel and walked toward Walther first. Kaden stopped me before I reached his body. “Lia, death isn’t graceful or forgiving. You don’t want to remember him this way.”
“I’ll remember him exactly this way. I’ll remember them all. I will never forget.” I pulled my arm loose.
“I can’t help you. It’s treason to bury the enemy. It dishonors our own fallen.”
I walked away without answering and stepped around bodies and their severed parts until I found Walther. I dropped to my knees beside him and wiped his hair from his face. I closed his eyes and kissed his cheek, whispering my own prayer to him, wishing him happiness on his journey because now he would hold Greta again, and if the gods be merciful, cradle his unborn child. My lips lingered on his forehead trembling, unwilling to part from him, knowing it would be the last time my flesh touched his.