Riv groaned, opened her eyes.
Am I dead?
The pain pulsing through her, from so many places, all clamouring for her attention, told her she was definitely alive.
“Here,” a voice said, Meical, standing over her. His arm, shoulder and part of his face were sliced to ribbons, flesh lacerated, blood flowing, but he had a smile on his face.
Riv took his arm and climbed to her feet.
“Asroth?” she said.
“Dead,” Meical nodded.
It was quiet.
There was no more combat in the air above, or on the field around them. Riv saw half-breed Kadoshim on their knees, arms in the air in surrender, acolytes dropping their weapons.
Riv and Meical walked slowly, the ground littered with the dead. Cullen was climbing to his feet, his nose twisted, clearly broken, his lower face slick with blood. Together the three of them joined Drem and Balur, staring down at Asroth.
He looked smaller, in death. His skin translucent-pale, silver hair splayed around his head. He was covered in wounds, their collective effort.
You are avenged, Mam.
“Got to admit, he was hard to kill.” Cullen was breathing hard. “Good fight, though.”
Drem shook his head wearily.
Balur spat on Asroth’s corpse and walked away. An arm wrapped around Riv’s shoulder and she looked to see Jost. Tall, skinny, impossible-to-kill Jost, his shield arm was hanging limp.
“Should have known you’d be one of the God-Killers,” he said, grinned at her.
She hugged him, so much emotion sweeping through her.
The tremor of giant feet and Balur returned. He was holding a figure cradled in his arms.
Byrne.
Drem saw her and stepped aside for Balur. Byrne was pale, pain pinching her features, but her eyes were aware. She looked at Drem and he reached out and squeezed her hand.
“We did it,” he whispered, “with your help.”
A tear dropped from Byrne’s eye.
“Look, Byrne,” Balur grated, his voice full of grief. “Look at the accomplishment of your life’s work.” Gently he stroked hair from Byrne’s face and angled her so that she could see Asroth.
“It’s over,” Balur rumbled.
Those words sank into Riv, slowly, like raindrops into wool.
“It’s over,” she breathed. Somehow saying the words out loud made it feel real. Her legs felt weak and she held onto Jost, who grinned at her.
“It’s over,” she said again. Felt a rush of relief flood through her, a flicker of joy. And then all she could think of was one thing. One person.
Bleda.
Because when you love someone, you have to share your joy with them.
She looked around at the gathering crowd, hundreds strong, now, but couldn’t see him, or any of the Sirak. She spread her wings, people shuffling away behind her, giving her space.
“Have you seen Bleda?” she asked Jost. He shook his head. Faelan was close by and heard her.
“I saw the Sirak near the forest,” he said.
Riv beat her wings and took to the sky, spiralling up.
Most of the field was still now, crows circling. The living were mostly moving to look at Asroth, though others were walking amongst the fallen, searching for survivors, tending to the injured. She saw Kill organizing the guarding of prisoners. Riv flew west, across the field, dead draigs strewn beneath her, and far in the distance one running, its lurching, shambling gait taking it towards Ripa. There was movement within the eaves of the forest. She saw Sirak upon horses, and giants. Her wings beat, taking her further, and she angled downwards, skimmed the treetops, saw more Sirak and giants passing through the forest. And then she was flying over a glade, saw bodies strewn upon the ground, Sirak lined around the glade’s edge, in a deep circle.
Worry uncoiled in her belly like a wyrm, slithering, stealing her joy away in a heartbeat.
She circled lower, level with the trees now, then lower.
The Sirak were there, hundreds of them ringing the glade, and she saw Old Ellac, sitting on the grass and staring, at a body.
And then she saw him.
“No,” she breathed, felt her stomach lurch, dived the last distance, landing, her wounded leg almost giving way, and she was dropping to the ground, throwing herself upon Bleda’s body, holding him, pulling him into her arms, sobbing, kissing his face. His cold, cold face.
“No, Bleda,” she said, “it’s over, you have to wake up, it’s over, we’ve done it. We can go home now.” She shook him, willing him to take a breath, for her to see his eyes focus on her. His beautiful, beautiful eyes, that always seemed to look into her, and know her. She stroked his cheek, her tears falling onto him, her body shaking with sobs. She hugged him tight, rocking back and forth.
She didn’t know how long she had been there, but dimly she became aware of other people around her. Faelan, looking down at her with sad eyes. His kin were about him; others were in the trees. Drem and Cullen rode into the glade, Drem upon Friend, the bear limping, his fur bloodied and torn. Meical rode with them, fresh bandages wound about his face and shoulder. They were looking at Riv with such concern in their eyes that her grief surfaced again, a fresh wave. She drew in a shuddering breath, then looked up at Ellac.
He had been sitting there, the whole time, just staring at Bleda. He looked so old now. An old man, withered and frail, some kind of spark gone from him.
Bleda was his spark. His reason for living.
“What happened?” she asked him, her voice halting.
“I… don’t know,” Ellac said. “We fought, here, with Jin and her kin. Bleda slew Jin. Yul was wounded and Bleda sent me to find a healer.” He gestured at Yul’s corpse, lying close to Bleda. “When I came back, he was…” Ellac swallowed, and tears rolled down his cheeks. They were not the first, judging by the lines on his face through the blood and grime.
“There was no one else here?” Riv asked him.
Ellac looked to the far side of the glade, Riv following his eyes, to where a Kadoshim’s corpse lay, its head half-severed.
“Kol was here,” Ellac said. “Bleda saved him from that Kadoshim.”
“Kol,” Riv said.
“Aye, but he was gone when I returned,” Ellac said.
Riv looked up at Faelan.
“Find him, bring him here,” she said.
Faelan nodded and took to the sky, some of his kin following him.
Drem and Cullen came and sat down beside her, said no words. Fen the wolven-hound loped into the glade, up to Drem, licked his face and then curled down around him.
Riv sat there with them, waiting. More tears came, her grief an ocean inside her.
The sound of wings and Faelan was spiralling down into the glade, his kin with him. Kol flew amongst them, a score of Ben-Elim about him. He alighted before Riv, looking down at her and Bleda. He was covered in cuts and bruises, his face still raw from the injuries he’d sustained at Ripa.
He bent over Riv, peering at Bleda.
“Ah, that is a shame,” he said. He looked at Riv, shook his head. “War is a terrible thing.”
“Ellac says you were here with Bleda, alone,” Riv said. She lay Bleda’s head gently on the ground and stood, Cullen and Drem helping her. Ellac rose, too, with the help of his spear.
“Aye, that is true,” Kol said. “I fought a Kadoshim.” He gestured to the creature’s corpse. “Bleda helped me. He ordered Ellac to fetch a healer for his oathman. I stayed, thanked him for his assistance with the Kadoshim—”
“Assistance!” Ellac muttered. “You’d be a dead man if Bleda hadn’t stepped in.”
“Aye, maybe.” Kol shrugged. “I thanked him, and then left, rejoined the battle.”
“How did he die?” Riv asked him.
“I don’t know,” Kol said, his face flat. He looked at Bleda’s corpse. At the wound in his throat, and the arrow in his thigh. He pointed at the arrow. “The Cheren, I’m guessing,” he said. “The battle was spread all through the eaves of the forest and the Cheren were everywhere.”
Riv looked at Bleda’s wounds. She had not been able to bring herself to do so, until now. But something was whispering to her.
Ellac frowned.
“That is a Sirak arrow,” he said, crouching to look at it, using his spear for balance.
Kol shrugged again. “I don’t know what happened, but that’s my educated guess. I’m going to go now. My body hurts, and there is much to do. I have a kingdom to rebuild.”
“Kol does know what happened,” a voice squawked.
Riv looked around the glade, searching for the owner of the voice.
A branch swayed above them, leaves rustling, shifting to reveal an old crow, pink skin visible where his feathers had fallen out.
“Craf,” Alcyon said.
Kol spread his wings.
“Wait,” Riv said to him.
“You don’t tell me what to do,” Kol said.
“Craf, what did you say about Kol?” Meical asked the crow.
Craf hopped from one leg to the next, looking at Kol with dark, intelligent eyes.
“Kol BAD MAN!” Craf squawked. “Kol stab Bleda.”
Riv blinked, a roaring in her ears. She stared at Craf, then looked at Kol.
“Don’t be absurd,” Kol said. “Of course I didn’t. We are on the same side, for goodness’ sake. Why would I do that?”
“Cairn of murdered babies,” Craf squawked, “that’s what Bleda said. Then Kol stab Bleda with spear.”
Kol took a few quick steps towards Craf, his fingers twitching to his sword.
Cullen moved in front of Kol, his sword in his fist, his face dark. “I’d not do that, if you want to keep your head,” Cullen growled. Ben-Elim moved, hands on weapons.
Meical stepped between them, holding a hand up.
“Kol is to stand before the Assembly for other accusations,” Meical said. “This can be dealt with there.”
“Yes, if you like,” Kol said, a sneer on his face. “But I hardly think the Ben-Elim will credit the testimony of a crow. Let alone one that is bald and senile.”
“Rude,” Craf muttered. “Kol murderer.”
“Shut up!” Kol snapped.
“You killed Bleda,” Riv said, staring at Kol.
“Pfah,” Kol spat. “I’m not staying here to listen to this gibberish. Make your claim at the Assembly, and see how that fares for you.”
Riv’s hand dropped to the pommel of her short-sword. The ocean of grief in her belly had changed, quick as thought. It was rage now, a storm inside her. A red mist filled her vision, her head, a tingling in her veins. Muscles twitched in her jaw.
“Don’t,” Kol said.
“You killed Bleda,” Riv repeated. She lunged forwards, reaching for her short-sword.
Shouts, people grabbing at her, hands and arms snatching at her. But she was too quick. Kol hadn’t even had time to react before her sword was out and resting against his throat.
A heavy, breath-held silence.
“You should put that away,” Kol said, staring into Riv’s eyes. “Don’t be an idiot. Do you want to start another war?”
She stared back at him, and he saw the hatred in her eyes. Saw that she didn’t care.
“I am your father, you cannot kill me,” he hissed.
Riv heard murmurs amongst the Ben-Elim behind Kol, but she didn’t take her eyes from his.
He killed Bleda. My Bleda. After we had come through so much, for it to end like this. The red wave inside her turned into a black one, rising high as a wall, a dark sorrow overwhelming her. In one moment life had drained of all meaning, of all colour.
And you took it from me.
Her body tensed for the killing thrust.
An arm wrapped around her waist and dragged her back. She turned her dark glare upon him, saw that it was Ellac.
“You don’t want his death on your soul,” Ellac said, looking deep into her eyes. “It would change you, leave a stain on your heart. He is your father, your kin.”
Riv’s lips twisted, tears of anger and grief mingled.
“My thanks,” Kol said to Ellac.
Ellac took his eyes from Riv’s and looked at Kol. Then he stabbed his spear forwards, adder-fast, the blade piercing Kol’s throat. Whipped it back out, blood jetting.
A stunned moment, everyone staring.
“Bleda was as a son to me,” Ellac snarled, his voice breaking, tears rolling down his cheeks. “I would slay you a thousand times and risk a thousand wars for him.”
Kol staggered back, hands reaching to his throat, blood pulsing over them. He swayed, dropped to his knees.
Ben-Elim shouted, drew their swords.
Three hundred Sirak bows were bent.
“Loose,” Ellac said.
As one, the Sirak released their bowstrings, their arrows hammering into Kol, hurling him to the ground. His blood soaked into the forest floor.