An Elegy of Heroes

by K. S. Villoso

  Caiso scratched his head. “It seems I’m outvoted. Don’t get yourself killed,” he snarled. “I’m kind of fond of you.”

  They found Kefier some rope and a spear. One of the taller men leaned against the wall to boost him up. He leaped as high as he could, aiming for the closest crack. The tip of the spear went in. Clinging to the wall with his hands around the spear and his feet against the rock, Kefier pulled himself up as close to the cracks as he could.

  The cracks formed a pattern that went all the way up to the hole, halfway along the guard tower. Kefier abandoned the spear and navigated his way up, using the cracks as handholds and footholds. It was difficult to do it in the near-dark, but he knew if he waited for better light, someone might see from the battlements and strike him down.

  Higher up, the shattered wall became even more fragmented. He was able to pull himself up on a ledge to catch his breath. His fingers felt raw. He saw that the wreckage formed a narrow pathway that, with some care, he could navigate without difficulty.

  He shifted his feet forward. In that moment, a familiar roar erupted from the distance. Kefier looked up and saw Naijwa’s beast bearing down on them. It was glowing blue.

  It smashed into the guard tower, shattering an entire section in one pass. It soared through to the Dageian side, disappearing again as it gained momentum. Kefier didn’t wait. He sprinted for the guard tower. He had reached the first flight of steps when the beast came again, hitting the top of the battlements this time. It was not strong enough to bring the entire wall down, but it skidded across the crenellations, its mouth dripping with the thick, black ooze that hissed and crackled as soon as it hit the rock.

  Down below, he heard men screaming.

  Kefier rushed down the steps. The creature’s presence was proving to be an effective distraction—he could see the guards rushing towards the battlements. The first mage to approach it was sent flying through the air.

  Trying to ignore the revulsion stirring up inside him, he made his way to the gatehouse and unbarred the door. He pushed them aside, walking past the broken bodies of his men from last morning’s assault. Soldiers ran towards him.

  The Dageian soldiers emerged from the woods.

  Kefier drew his sword as men streamed past him. In the distance, the Dageian soldiers were catching up to the mercenaries, some of whom turned to fight back.

  “Close the gate behind us,” Aden told Kefier. “Twenty of us should be enough to hold them for a while.”

  “No!”

  “There’s not enough of us left. If these bastards catch up to us, we all die.”

  Kefier reached out to grab Aden by the shirt. “You close the gate. I’m not letting anyone else from the old group die on me. You understand?”

  “With all due respect, Commander, your sentiments at a time like this…”

  There was a loud cheer from inside the fort. Somebody cried out, “Captain Sevlor’s group! Reinforcements from the tunnels!”

  Aden looked at Kefier, who grinned before shoving him past the doors. Kefier looked out one last time, to be sure that every single Boarshind soldier who could had made it in. There was no one else in the field save for the Dageian soldiers running for the gatehouse.

  He drew back, letting the men push the doors closed. They slid the barricade in place.

  “Show these bastards how we get this done without tricks!” Aden roared, lifting his blade.

  “We have that giant monster fighting on our side,” Caiso pointed out.

  “Show these bastards how the Boarshind fight, with or without tricks!”

  Kefier drew his sword to meet an incoming mage. Blood sprayed with one strike. He left the men to take another look at the creature. It remained on the battlements, swatting down anyone who dared draw near. It seemed to have shrunk since the last time he had seen it—he could see its ribs protruding from the transfigured dragon-skin.

  He saw the figure on its back. Realization dawned on him.

  Yn Garr needed Rosha to control the beast.

  He mumbled her name as he made his way back up the steps in the guard tower. She seemed safe for now, but there was little else protecting her against the repeated assault of the Dageian mages except the blue haze of agan around her. He wasn’t even sure if they had noticed her. He couldn’t take that risk.

  He clambered over the wreckage of the guard tower and landed on one side of the battlements.

  In that same moment, he saw another shadow appear in the sky. Arn and his griffon barreled into the next approaching mage, sending him toppling over the wall. The griffon perched on the wall, allowing Arn to scramble down. He was saying something to Rosha, although Kefier was too far away to hear.

  He saw Arn pull out the box they had retrieved from Shi-uin.

  Kefier dashed towards them. Arn’s hand was hovering over the box, undoing the seals. The box flipped open. A lump of flesh, like the upper half of a creature’s maw, latched itself onto the dragon-beast.

  There was a flash of bright light, so intense that Kefier had to shield his face from it.

  Before the light disappeared, he heard the creature’s roar. It sounded different. He felt the wall shake. He ran towards it, but saw, too late, that it had already taken off.

  In midair, the creature was transforming. The bulbous eye was pushed up as its jaws, once dragon-like, doubled in size, with a single, dagger-like fang protruding from one side. A lump of new, misshapen flesh was pulsing under its throat and chest. The smell of rot in the air intensified.

  Kefier reached Arn in time to land a blow against his cheek. “What the fuck did you do?” he cried.

  Arn laughed. “It was too weak. Naijwa’s beast, we keep calling it, yet in truth it was but a part. Wasn’t the whole purpose to put the thing together, like some deranged, flesh-puzzle?”

  Kefier grabbed him by the collar. “She’s from Jaeth’s line! You added Farg’s piece! That’ll make it harder for her to control!”

  “That’s the fun part, isn’t it?”

  The blood drained from Kefier’s face. He pushed Arn to the side and watched as the creature bore down on the Dageian soldiers, mowing them where they stood. It stopped to grab the nearest ones and tore into them.

  Still sitting on its back, Kefier caught sight of Rosha’s terrified face.

  “I wouldn’t go down there if I were you,” Arn warned. “Like you said, Farg’s Fang won’t have the same aversion to you as Jaeth’s Eye. Without skill in the agan, you’re helpless.”

  “Skill in the agan—you’re one to talk,” Kefier hissed. “That Yn Garr would trust a little girl with the creature over you…”

  Shots rang out below the wall. He saw Naijwa’s beast fling back another incoming soldier before returning to the sky. It crashed into the section of the wall, past the gatehouse. There were a group of mages on the battlements there. Kefier couldn’t see what they were doing, but he saw a red light flash.

  The creature smashed into them. There was an explosion.

  Half-deafened by the screaming and Arn’s laughter, Kefier saw the creature fall into the sea, taking his daughter with it.

  ACT THREE

  For over two hundred and twenty hours,

  I said my goodbyes.

  Given time like that,

  what should have felt like a dagger to the chest,

  sounded like a gift.

  Two hundred and twenty hours.

  A little over nine days.

  I washed his feet and dressed his wounds,

  and reminisced of quiet, sun-filled days,

  the yesteryears of our boyhood

  spiralling away from us into the realm of memories.

  Loss, creeping up like that, could be a gift.

  Loss, sudden loss, seems harder to bear.

  Cleaner, others say, but I did not know that,

  counting the hours,

  every passing moment bringing us closer to the end,

  the poison in my chest a reflection of my love.

>   Like children learning to swim, we think we drown in sorrow,

  only to awaken on the shore to tempt the tides again.

  He dies in my arms.

  A gift. Others are not so lucky.

  -Caiso apn Willen

  Chapter One

  Kefier opened his eyes with only the memory of the cold, biting current and the deep blackness of the sea around him. There was seaweed wrapped around his feet and arms. Shaking, he peeled them off, one by one, before last night’s events came crawling back to him.

  Rosha was gone.

  The sob started from his chest and stopped in the middle of his throat. His mind fogged over, allowing him to process what had occurred. The creature had fallen into the sea. He had jumped in after it. He couldn’t recall how. He could recall struggling against the waves, sea-foam forming around him, and he could recall the taste of salt in his mouth. He remembered diving in several times, trying to catch sight of something—anything—in the deep darkness.

  He remembered thinking that for as long as he was trying, Rosha could still be saved.

  Kefier continued sitting there, his arms on his knees while water dripped around him. It was past sunrise now. He couldn’t remember if he had swum back to shore, or if a wave took him there, before he had blacked out. A crab walked past him. He stared at it.

  “Commander?” a voice called out behind him.

  He turned, saw Abel. He seemed to remember asking him to stay with Ailat and Storri, and away from the fighting until they could take over the fort. He couldn’t form the words, though.

  Abel cleared his throat. “We were thinking you died, Commander Toske. The men were convinced of it. Ailat and Storri’s riding back with the toske they found in the fort, as you ordered. I stayed behind. I’m thinking I don’t want to be stuck up there with all of them. Not good for my health, you ken?”

  When Kefier didn’t answer, he pulled out a woolen cloak and placed it over him. “I was thinking you couldn’t do it, but you did. You won the fort, Commander. The Hafed lords came riding in once all the Dageians were killed. Everyone was screaming at everyone, waving swords and pushing people about. I’ve never seen anything like it in my life. What happened to you? Why did you jump into the sea?”

  “I was chasing after the creature,” Kefier murmured. “My daughter lost control of it.”

  Abel was silent for a moment, digesting his words. “My apologies, Commander,” he said. “I’m thinking you’ll do better once you get into some warm clothes and food in you. Clear your head a bit.” He bent over to help him up.

  Kefier didn’t think he needed it, but he found that his knees felt like jelly. He allowed Abel to swing his arm up around his broad shoulders.

  Abel led him back into the fort, following a trail from the beach towards the gates. Men saluted as they passed. The bright expressions on their faces made Kefier sick. What sort of victory, with that as the price? He wanted to scream and hit things, but he was too exhausted.

  Caiso met them at the gatehouse. “I’ll take him from here,” he said, shooing Abel with a closed fist. “Go make yourself useful!” Abel spat at him before walking away.

  “You’ve got to stop scaring us like that,” Caiso said as they entered the main building. The warmth from the fires was a stark contrast to the biting winds outside, making Kefier feel dizzy. He gestured at Caiso, who helped him into a room which had been set up as the infirmary. Other injured soldiers sat on cots or blankets on the floor.

  “She went into the sea,” Kefier croaked out. “Did they find the beast? Rosha?”

  Caiso grimaced. “They found the beast, Kefier. Arn brought it back in. They have it contained in the armoury. That’s all I know.” He swallowed. “There’s been no sign of Rosha. Arn flew over the sea with his griffon and thinks she drowned. Oh, Kefier…”

  The sob finally escaped him. Kefier hid his face in the crook of his arm, allowing the tears to fall. Beside him, Caiso patted his back, murmuring, “There is no shame in grief, Commander. We all know loss. Mourn and forget we’re here. Are you all going to stand there with your mouths open? Somebody go get the Commander a bottle of wine!”

  The haze of pain and sorrow and drink came and went.

  Kefier was given a small room to sleep in. He didn’t know how long he stayed there, how long he shifted between staring numbly at the wall or near-drowning in his own tears. Eswenna came by, bearing him trays of food, which he left untouched in the corner of his room.

  “You have to eat, Commander,” Eswenna said after the third time. “Master Gorrhen’s been looking for you.” She shook her head, looking at the food she had brought in earlier.

  “Piss on that man,” Kefier said.

  “Even so. You need the energy. Maybe you don’t like this Dageian slop? Someone’s coming in with fresh supplies soon. I can get the cook to whip up a nice, beef stew with turnips and apples. I remember you liked that.”

  He didn’t answer. She sighed. “I’ll leave this here for now. But you better return to us sooner rather than later, Commander. The Hafed lords—they’re claiming our victory for theirs. The tension around here’s so tight you could castrate a bull with it.”

  Kefier watched the door close. After a length of time, he got up and took a loaf of bread from the tray. He broke it into pieces. After over two days of not eating, the presence of food in his body felt invigorating.

  He didn’t understand that.

  Everything was supposed to taste and feel like ashes. The world ought to have crumbled the moment he lost Rosha. And yet…it had not. The sun was shining outside, the third sunrise since then. The thought that more would come now seemed more painful than the loss itself. He knew it would pass; that in another hour, perhaps sooner, the grief would crash into him again. But for now, he was staring at the streaks of sunshine streaming from the single window and he realized he was already thinking about how he would break the news to Sume.

  He was beginning to see that, harder than loss itself, was the act of getting up after the loss. Of trying to form your life around a present that seemed nothing like yesterday. To even start thinking about it felt like a betrayal. Having finished the bread, he caught himself reaching out for more and tried to stop himself. Why was he eating, as if he wanted to live another moment in this hell?

  It was tempting to walk away and follow Rosha back into the sea. But his body didn’t follow through with his thoughts. Others might have had an easier time with it.

  He drifted in and out of these thoughts and didn’t notice when his body finally decided to get up and walk out into the hall. Although inside, he felt like he was tearing at the seams, waiting to fall apart at any moment, outside, he was a picture of calm. Soldiers stopped to greet him. They considered his heroic act at the wall, which allowed him to unlock the gate from inside, a pivotal event that saved their lives. Never mind that the creature’s arrival would’ve turned the tides for them, anyway. They saw only what they wanted to see.

  He asked for Yn Garr’s whereabouts. They pointed him to the round hall, close to the top of the tower, which meant navigating a startling amount of stairs. Kefier took it one step at a time. He could see the snow-covered mountaintops and clouds forming through the windows. When he arrived at the landing, he heard the sound of raised voices and recognized both Yn Garr’s and the King’s.

  He paused mid-step, one hand on the railing.

  “I don’t think you understand what I’m saying, Sir Gorrhen. I have no intentions of marching for Lon Basden—I never did. If the fort is sufficiently manned, we can defend it from their side while we focus on construction within our lands. Was this not the purpose of our assault in the first place?”

  “Lon Basden is their last outpost in this region. It is at least a day’s travel by sea to get reinforcements from the rest of Dageis.”

  Elrend laughed. “As if that’s ever stopped them!”

  Yn Garr’s voice, in contrast, sounded strained. “Shi-uin is closer to the mainland than Lon Bas
den is. I don’t recall them going any further north than that. They’ve left Baidh untouched. If you had studied the Dageians’ movements throughout history like you were supposed to…”

  “Supposed to? You forget who you’re speaking to, merchant.”

  There was a pause, a sharp intake of breath. “Lon Basden will fall easily enough,” Yn Garr continued. “I have a fleet of warships docked at Port Greenleaf ready to reinforce the soldiers when they get there.”

  “You failed to mention this, Sir Yn Garr. I thought you only had trading vessels in Port Greenleaf.”

  “I have funded your endeavour left and right, Your Majesty. Do I need to remind you whose lives were lost during this assault? Not a single Hafed soldier fell.”

  “It was not under my orders that they pulled back. The lords did not trust your men.”

  “And yet you did nothing about it! Does your incompetence know no bounds? Leaving Lon Basden open gives the Dageians room to launch an attack on the fort. We have to take it. You have no other choice.”

  “I have no other choice, sir?”

  Kefier peered around the doorway. He could see Yn Garr’s back facing him. Elrend was standing near the sculpted archways that decorated the round hall. His son Fenri was staring at them from the balcony.

  “I have no other choice?” Elrend repeated. His face had gone sheet-white.

  Yn Garr took a deep breath. “A long time ago, we owned these lands. The Dageians came. Hafod marched against them and defeated High General Olfren. They retreated to Lon Basden. The king at the time—your great-grandfather, Tarrick—refused to follow them and take the city, as he was advised. With Olfren dead, the army in Lon Basden was being led by the mite of a Junior Centurion. A fresh-faced officer who had never seen battle, promoted to command only because of his family’s connection. Do you know what happened next?”

  It was Fenri who answered for his father. “Reinforcements came. They crushed our army in these plains, causing us to retreat to Tilarthan. We lost these lands, conceding defeat to Dageis.”