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SPILLED BLOOD AND STOLEN STONES
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BY THE TIME JASPER arrived, it was too late. Ori’s lifeless body lay strewn in a pool of his own blood, slowly polluting the rainwater and staining the green grass below red. Savara hovered over him trembling, unable to move her hands from his throat, still hoping to stop the bleeding. Jasper pulled her up from the floor and held her tightly in his arms, struggling against her kicking and screaming.
He whispered to her, hoping to soothe her torment. “Sav, it’s all over.”
But Savara couldn’t hear him. She buried her face in his chest and, still trembling violently, let out a sob of defeat. “It’s my fault,” she stuttered. “It’s all my fault.”
The storm raged on above, ousting fires, purifying the air, washing away the suffering.
The day’s trauma had ended just as suddenly as Ori’s own life. Terra soldiers swarmed, pushing past the pair of them with all the force of a mudslide towards their leader, and somewhere between them, Griffin forced himself through to her.
“What happened?” he yelled at Jasper, seeing that Savara was coated from head to toe in blood.
“I don’t know.”
Griffin’s frantic eyes followed the Terra soldiers to the other side of the room, catching a glimpse of Ori’s lifeless corpse. “Take her to her room. There’s nothing more to be done.”
***
IT SEEMED ALL TOO SOON to be convened in the hallowed chambers again. This time, however, the halls were empty, save for Griffin, the two generals, and the remaining four councilmembers. Emptiness, guilt, loss, and fear had set in over their honourable faces. The whites of their eyes had all been stained red from the tears. Hands balled in fists shook in anger and futility.
There was nothing more to be done.
“They were already inside,” General Isaac said with a quiver in his voice. “Somehow, they were already inside.” He clutched a traditional Terra soldier helmet under his right arm to keep himself from trembling.
“So, it is true, then?” asked Lady Abeer in her usual gentle voice. A deep frown set in across her wrinkled face. She looked more frail than usual. “The world is at war with the shadows...”
Griffin nodded. He tried his best to pay attention and respond to the council members, but in his mind, he replayed the day’s events over and over, wondering where his plans had gone wrong, cursing himself for having underestimated their enemies.
“We shall have to ascend someone tonight,” reminded Lord Aito. A burn mark ran up the side of his torso, peeking out from under his armour-plated tunic. He too had been in the battle.
Before tonight, Griffin had wondered whether he or any of them remembered what it was to fight, to be at war. Back when the world was less at peace, and his stomach was half its current size, Lord Aito had been a soldier—a warrior, Griffin recalled. The kind that spat on the corpses of his enemies and paid for blood with blood. Griffin saw it in his eyes now, the thirst for the battle, the rage pushing at his fists. Lord Aito remembered.
Tonight, all of Idune remembered.
Lady Amaia shot him a chastising glance. “Can we save politics for tomorrow? Our friend is dead.”
“Amaia, you heard the child. We are at war!” he shouted. “We need to protect ourselves.” Unable to contain the trembling in his hands, Lord Aito slammed a great fist onto the stone table, leaving an imprint for all to see. Lady Amaia stood up just as forcefully on the opposite end of the table. The sound snapped Griffin out of his daze.
“Children, please,” said Lady Abeer. “Amaia, someone will need to inform Yensa. I’d rather his poor wife not hear it as gossip.” She turned to the two lords and spoke again. “As for the two of you, we shall need to inform the ministers. Send out messengers as soon as we are finished here. Aito is right. We will need to ascend someone this evening; otherwise, I’m afraid our enemies might take advantage of our circumstances.” Finally, she turned to Griffin. “You are free to stay, to heal, to regroup, but I am sorry to say you will not have our support once you leave. We have a duty to our own people, as you will understand, and as such, we must protect our homeland.”
“I understand, my lady,” Griffin replied with a bow.
The meeting adjourned not soon after.
“We did everything we could, General,” said Griffin to his friend as they exited the halls.
“I understand,” sighed General Isaac. “Believe me, I am just as surprised as you are. How is your friend?”
Her petrified, hopeless eyes flashed through his mind. “She’s in shock. I should get back to her.”
General Isaac took his hand and pulled him back. “I warn you, there are some here that will take advantage of the current situation.” General Isaac made sure no one else around was listening before he continued, “Motivated only by their own political success. I tell you as a friend, Griffin, I believe it is best you make haste to your next destination. Do not heal or regroup here.”
“Thank you, General Isaac.”
“And Griffin,” he added, “should you ever need assistance, know that there are those within the Terra Army that remember you fondly. You will count on us should the need arise.” He held out a bear-sized paw, and Griffin gladly took hold of it.
“Thank you again, my friend.”
***
“LET ME HELP YOU WITH that.”
Storm huffed. She knew it was him even before his smug face appeared at her door. “Sebastian, so help me Iturri—”
“I come in peace,” he said with his hands raised above his head. His golden curls hung loosely over his shoulders. Parts had been tinged orange from the fight. She didn’t know what bothered her more, the fact that even after a battle he still managed to look like a fallen saint or that it didn’t bother her half as much as it should have.
He’s wearing that stupid face again. The half-smile and glassy eyes told her he was worried. Does he think I’m some sort of helpless creature? That I can’t take care of myself? How dare he, thought Storm.
His concern irritated her more than his presence. She could run him through with her sword without mercy or remorse any day she pleased. Her eyes fell to her arm, charred in places, splintered in others, dangling limply at her side. She’d have to swap to her right arm for a while; the wounds would take some time to heal.
Maybe on a better day, she frowned as she unhitched a sigh. At least the blood isn’t all mine.
“I didn’t say come in,” she growled as he strode up to her.
Sebastian took the cloth without asking and began to soak it in the water. She watched hesitantly, knowing she should kick him out before he got too comfortable, but she couldn’t bring herself to be rid of him.
The veins in his arms bulged as he wrung the cloth free of water. Under different circumstances, he would’ve made more of a show of it, but then, under different circumstances, she wouldn’t have let him near enough her to notice.
“Careful. My right arm works just fine,” she scoffed.
“I’m sure.” He warmed the cloth in his hands and moved to dab it on her forearm.
“Ouch!” She flinched, raising her other hand to strike.
“It’s easier to clean with warm water,” he said, resting his hand lightly on her thigh. “Calm down.”
Storm bit her lip and braced herself for the pain, but Sebastian was gentle with her in a way she never imagined he could be. He kept his head down, keeping the towel warm between his fingers, but he must have sensed her watching because a smile curled at his lips.
What a self-obsessed ass, she thought as she turned away.
Silence fell between them, hanging expectantly in the air, but her pride would not move her to speak. She could handle silence; it was better than having to deal with any smug comments. The sound of the drops of bloody, dirt-tinged water returning to their basin each time he wrung out the cloth was enough to fill the void. Eventually, however, she was unable to resist peeking over her shoulder.
Stupid hands, she thought as she watched them dab the cloth on her wound with care. Stupid arms, though she remembered how they carried her off the battlefield.
Her eyes had rested on him longer than she’d intended. Finding his two glowing, glassy eyes staring back at her startled and embarrassed her so much so that she kicked him off the bed.
“That’s it. I’m fine.” She blushed, trying to hide it under the new length of her brilliant red locks. “Get out!” she yelled.
“You’re insane,” he retorted.
“I can do the rest myself,” she said dismissively. And then he laughed. “Of all the—”
“I know,” he replied, rubbing the part of his chest that had made contact with her boot. “I didn’t offer because I thought you needed the help.”
“Oh?” she spat, keeping the redness in her face hidden.
“I offered because I wanted to help.”
Storm glowered at him, wondering why he would ever want to help her. Maybe he’d inhaled too much smoke and wasn’t thinking straight. He blandished that horrible smoulder of his—the one that women drooled over. I hate that smoulder...
“I’m sure there are other damsels in distress that need your help,” she replied as she turned up her nose.
“Possibly.”
Storm rolled her eyes. “They’re probably half as injured and much less capable...”
“Probably.”
“...Fine.”
After a long pause, Sebastian relented. “Fine,” he sighed as he moved for the door.
“Don’t.” The word slipped out before she could catch herself.
“If you want me to stay, you’ll have to ask.”
Storm bit down hard on her lip. Sebastian waited for another second, staring at her with a forming frown, before returning to the door.
“...stay...” she growled finally.
“Nicely.”
“...please.”
Though he didn’t reply, his smirk spoke volumes. Sebastian picked up the rag again and began to dab her wounds. This time the silence between them nagged at her. To have him there—the bane of her existence tending to her like she was helpless—irked her immensely, and he knew it. A small part of her thought it was sweet, but she had no time for sweet, or even kind. Those things are the first to be ripped from you in this cruel world. But when his rugged fingers grazed her cheek, brushing the strands of hair that hid her fluster behind her ears, she realised it was too late. Somewhere between loathing him and the thought of losing him, she realised she might sort of like him. She readied herself to push him away when he rested his hand on her leg again.
“There’s blood on your forehead,” he said calmly. “I’m just trying to clean it. That’s all.”
Storm turned up her nose but allowed him to dab at the wounds, trying her best to avoid his gaze, but her treacherous eyes seemed to seek out his. Charred in places and covered in soot, yet his eyes still sparkle like a thousand suns.
He touched the cloth lightly to her head. “You know,” he began, “this might be the longest you’ve gone without threatening me.”
“It’s the longest you’ve gone without being insufferable.” She turned to swat him across the face with her good hand, but he caught it mid-swing and gazed into her eyes.
“I was going to say, it’s nice.”
She pulled her hand from his, unsure of what to do next. Both held their tongues, unable to muster the courage needed to open their mouths and speak their minds. The seconds that ticked by stretched like minutes, spreading out between occasional stolen glances and silent sighs. Finally, he dropped the rag back into the basin.
“Well, you’re all cleaned up,” he said, moving to stand.
“Wait,” she called, unsure why she had decided to speak even as the words left her lips. She knew she had to say something, or else risk looking like a fool—and she wasn’t a fool. “You could’ve let me die back there.”
Sebastian thought about it for a second before nodding. “...I could’ve.”
“But you didn’t...”
“No.”
“Why?”
Sebastian scratched the back of his neck shyly. The move itself seemed too uncomfortable to be casual. “You could’ve let me burn back at the camp.”
“I know...”
“But you didn’t.”
“...no.”
“Curious, isn’t it?” He bit his lip to stop the grin that was spreading across his face. “You should get some rest. Griffin says we’ll be leaving during the festivities.”
He was already halfway to the door when she regained her voice. “Don’t tell me what to do.”
“Stormy, my dear, I wouldn’t dream of it,” he replied with a wink and closed the door.
Her heart seemed to echo in the lonely room.
Storm picked up a knife from her bedside table and threw it with her right hand. It embedded itself square in the door where his face had been moments before. Storm waited for her accelerated pulse to steady, to regain her composure, but she knew it was already too late. He's done it, she thought with a frown, slowly beginning to realise that he’d broken her.
