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“You aren’t the only one with honor, Tor,” Bataar said from behind Hubric on Kyrowat’s back.
“Well, come on then,” I said. No point in arguing if he wanted to get himself killed. The Kav’ai could just get themselves a new set of tattooed people to bury in their problems.
I plunged toward the keep doors, commanding golems out of the way or to stop entirely. It bothered me that I couldn’t see the dragons from here – couldn’t fight on their behalf – couldn’t do anything to help them flee. Saboraak was too busy to keep talking to me.
I’m still here.
It made my heart warm to know she was safe. We plunged into the heart of the Castel and I tried not to look at the mangled dead strewn along the corridors. Every golem that I ordered aside revealed broken pottery, shattered weapons, bloody cloths, or worse – the battered, bloody dead.
I’d failed them. I knew that now.
I had this power to control golems and I hadn’t realized it until it was too late to use it effectively. I hadn’t learned to stop more than one at a time. I hadn’t stood up on the walls or the towers of the Castel and ordered them back in groups of five or six like I knew I could now.
“What if you could do more than that, still?” my mimic asked. “What if you could have stopped this entire war. And you just didn’t realize it. You just didn’t have the guts to do it.”
The guilt of his words weighed heavily on me. He was right. And I knew it.
I’d been a hurt bystander in Vanika. Here, I was guilty somehow. Every person we passed lying dead on the floor made me flinch with the knowledge that their death belonged at my feet. I should have been smarter. I should have been faster. I should have known how to stop this before it happened.
I led them deeper into the heart of the Castel.
“How long have you been fighting?” Hubric asked quietly.
I paused. “I don’t know anymore. Two days and two nights, maybe. Maybe more. I can’t seem to remember.”
Bataar was singing quietly to himself – a lilting song so sad it made my heart want to cry.
“You hoped to save the city?” Hubric asked.
“Yes. Lee Estabis leads it. He was a great leader. We sent the innocents into the warrens beneath the city with Zyla for a guide.”
Hubric flinched at my words.
“Hubric?” I was worried suddenly. “Was that wrong?”
“It was dangerous.” His tone was guarded.
“I didn’t know what else to do!” I hated the pleading sound in my voice – like I was begging him to see why I’d done it. Like I wanted to be justified. “We couldn’t send them across the plains. The golems were already swarming. And we couldn’t keep them safe in the city.”
Hubric nodded but there was a strain behind his eyes.
“And that’s why we need to seal up the entrance below,” he agreed, adding a comforting smile. “And we’ll do it.”
It wasn’t like Hubric to comfort people. Usually, he barked and ordered. He didn’t usually look gentle and mild. I must have really screwed up.
I was surprised that we hadn’t been attacked yet. The golems let me stop them or redirect them, but we had yet to be surrounded or pinned down.
Don’t wish for it, boy. Kyrowat said in my mind. I’m sure they’ll get to that when they realize what you’re doing.
True. Eventually, one of those Magikas would realize there was trouble coming up from behind the frontlines. And then they’d co-ordinate and all these golems would come crashing down on us.
We followed the bodies, mostly. They would lead to the entrance below.
“I’m afraid this is where we dismount,” Hubric said when we got to the first set of doors that Kyrowat had to squeeze through.
Bataar was still singing.
“An angelic song won’t bring back the dead,” I said curtly.
“It’s the Kav’ai song of the dead,” Bataar said. And as he began to sing again, I listened to the words.
Rest, weary one,
The sun, the sun
Is rising.
In this new life,
The pain has flown, away.
Rest child of earth,
And let your soul,
Fly heavenward,
No tear to mar the eye,
Or pain the heart again.
Until one day,
When we, our hearts united,
Stand under sun,
We’ve never seen before.
Until one day,
When hope has shown her merit,
And all will rest in faith,
and warm to brand new life.
It felt strange to sing such a soft, longing song in halls filled with the squeal of metal on stone, and the smell of death and desperation.
I gritted my teeth. Bataar wasn’t so bad. And he’d chosen to join us. No one asked him to come and die with us. He’d just chosen to come along. You couldn’t fault a man for that.
I almost knew his song by heart when we heard the first sound of people still alive in the Castel.