WILLOW
They stood once more on the walls. The sun was shining, the sky clear. The wind blowing through the valley was still icy. Below, in the village, the celebrations were over and the evacuation had begun. Soldiers from Herb were making their way up the path toward the smoldering fortress.
“You should get going,” Willow said, turning to look at Ilyas. “It would be best if my people didn’t find you here.”
The Vineman nodded, but didn’t move. “What will you tell them?”
“The truth,” Willow said, slipping his hands into his pockets for warmth. “That I thought about what it cost to take it, and agree that it’s not worth the manpower to defend. Then I’m going to go take the holidays… off. I have a lot of thinking to do. I don’t think I’ll be showing my face until the truce is over.” Will paused briefly before continuing. “Tell your Queen the fortress is hers, and you sent me running. Spend the holiday with your son, Ilyas. All I ask in return is that you make sure that these people have a village to come back to after the war. They don’t deserve to lose everything because we decided to get into it on their doorsteps.”
“I will do what I can, you have my word,” Ilyas said heavily. “I will see you after the truce, then. I promise I won’t throw a chain at your throat next time.”
“I make no such promises.” Willow’s lips turned up in a smile, and he extended his hand. “Until we meet again.”
Ilyas’ hand met his in a firm shake. “You may try, but we both know you still won’t be quick enough. Maybe you’ll have better luck when you’re not quite so young and impulsive.”
“Don’t count on that, old man.”