An Elegy of Heroes

by K. S. Villoso

  “Is that why you tried to dress and speak like a Kag so well?”

  “Tried? Ah, that, my lady, is hurtful.” He glanced around, chewing. “But it is nice to be here at last. It feels as close to home as I ever could be. A pity. Tilarthan used to be my favourite city.”

  “Your father was a chief. He never took you here?”

  Enosh shook his head. “He’d been here, of course—many of the elders have. It’s the closest you can get for trading, but not the safest. Grabbing Gorenten off the docks to be sold as slaves is illegal—it’s all illegal within Dageian territory—but that’s only because it upsets the populace and not out of any concern for the actual people involved. So if they catch you at a bad time, and there’s no one watching, and you can’t procure the proper papers…” He made a clicking sound with his tongue.

  “So if we get Rosha these papers, she’ll be safe?”

  “Yes. In fact, just being dressed like a proper citizen would deter most slavers from even trying. It’s bad for business if you get caught trying to pass off a properly documented resident of any of the big nations as a slave. The officials will be all over you.”

  He wiped his mouth, calling for the server. The man arrived and Enosh paid, even after Sume insisted on contributing something for her share.

  “You’ve been complaining all year that you have no money,” Sume said.

  “I have spending money. I took what I could from the store,” Enosh replied. He gave a grin. “Also, my brother had a change of heart. He threw a bag of coin at my face the same night he arrived. Ab, but his aim had gotten better since we were kids.”

  “I don’t think he ever intended to steal from you.”

  “Oh, he did. Did it out of spite, too. The only reason I didn’t conk his head in for it is because Reema would be rolling around my coin, like a dog discovering the wonders of goat shit, otherwise.” He coughed. “Most of the money went into clearing the land around the mountain ridge and the valley, to make way for the village. He also told me he kept some in Hafod under his own name, which I can take any time I want to. So I can’t complain too much. As long as he doesn’t do it again…”

  “Don’t hurt him, if you can help it.”

  Something in her voice gave him pause. “You’re fond of him, aren’t you?”

  “He raised your daughter for eight years, Enosh.”

  “I know. He is a kind bastard, for what it’s worth. Too kind, really. I think…” They paused at the edge of the pier. There was a bright moon above them. The roundness of it reflected perfectly off the surface of the sea. “I haven’t been the best brother I could have been, considering what we’ve both had to deal with. I try not to dwell on it, but it does bother me.”

  “Ah. And here I thought you just naturally had a cold heart.”

  Enosh laughed. “No. Not cold. Not even indifferent. I just try not to let these things distract me from what needs to be done.” He paused, taking her hand. He pressed it against her lips. “How much do you mind it?”

  Sume flushed. She always did when he did that, which was why he did it more often these days. “How much do I mind what, exactly? Your twisted sense of humour?”

  “Among other things.” He reached into his pocket and placed a ring in the middle of her palm. Carefully, he closed her fingers around it.

  “I don’t know what this means,” she said.

  “A Dageian tradition, though it’s starting to pick up in the Kag. I can’t believe you don’t know.”

  “I’ll need you to explain it to me.”

  “In great detail?”

  She swallowed. “If it pleases you, my lord.”

  He smiled. “In the Kag, if a man and a woman love each other very much…”

  “I can’t believe you remember that.”

  “How could I forget one of the few times that your dripping sarcasm has rendered me speechless?” Enosh cocked his head at her.

  “I don’t know what to say, Enosh.”

  “Let me try to convince you. I am—as far as Enosh Tar’elian-Gorent is concerned—unmarried, and heir to a bloodline—not that Dageis recognizes it—that gives me some claim to these lands. The details remain sketchy, but the important thing is that if we’re married, Dageian law will recognize Rosha as my heir, which is very important if we’re to stay here and make something out of ourselves.”

  She placed her fingers on his wrist. “Start from the beginning.”

  “I thought I told you when I said Tilarthan was no longer my favourite city that—” Flustered, he held his breath for a moment, not realizing until then how nervous he had been. “If Yn Garr fails in laying this city flat to the ground, I’d like to stay here. Start up a business again. Without Jin-Sayeng politics dragging us to the ground, I’m sure we’ll do much better than in Sutan. Plus, we have a summer home, which my brother so generously built for us.”

  “It’s his house.”

  “It’s everybody’s house.” He took a deep breath. “Burg—you remember Burg?—he told me the last time I saw him that all I think about is myself. And I think maybe you’ve somehow gotten that same impression.”

  “You don’t say.”

  “It’s not always the case. Sometimes I have to do the things that no one else cares enough about to do right. I’m sorry if people are incompetent, but that’s not my fault. Sometimes I give a damn, too. Look, Sume, what I’m trying to say is this: marry me.”

  Sume stared at him. She was quiet for far too long. The smile died on his face. “Please,” Enosh whispered.

  “I’m thinking about it,” she replied.

  “Don’t think about it too long. Don’t.” He placed his thumb on her chin, pulling her in for a kiss.

  Breathless, she pulled away. “I guess it makes sense,” she said. “What you said. All the things you said.”

  Enosh blinked. “I’m sorry?”

  “You don’t like these things distracting you, right? So, logically…”

  “Ah. The same logic you applied when you agreed to marry K’an Mhagaza?”

  “Which was your plan, if you recall.”

  He took a deep breath. “I know it’s been years since, but I’m sorry for that. But this is not the same thing at all.” He looked at her. “Is it?”

  “Is it so bad to think about the future when you’ve grown up as powerless as I have?” Sume asked. “But no,” she added, placing her hand on his cheek. “It’s not even close.”

  “So tell me.”

  “I do appreciate the efforts you’ve made into trying to make this right. We can’t change the past, but we can try not to dwell on it. I will marry you, Enosh, if you’ll have me. I’m afraid I am not the blushing young bride I’m sure you prefer. In Jin-Sayeng, I’m one step away from becoming an old hag.”

  “That’s all right,” he replied. “The not-old hags are expensive.”

  She smiled. He liked that she laughed at his jokes. “I guess this means we’ve got to try not to die in this war. Unless that’s why you decided to do this? Put something more horrible than dying in the back of your mind?”

  “You know me too well, my lady,” Enosh said. He kissed her again. Her lips were cold. He wondered if it was the night air that did it or his own anxieties. His hands, he realized, were shaking. Noticing this, she wrapped her own hands around them before tucking them into his coat.

  They stayed like this for several heartbeats, staring out at the sea.

  Chapter Eight

  The chaos that marked Fort Oras when Kefier saw it last had disappeared. The bodies had been cleared from the field—Kefier detected piles of charred bones and ashes along the way. There were also soldiers patrolling the battlements, all bearing Hafed armour. Four soldiers stood guard at the gate when they arrived. The damage the doors had sustained during the attack had been repaired, the thick wood reinforced with steel plates. They swung outwards at Kefier’s arrival.

  The speed and precision with which the Hafed soldiers moved was unsettling. Agartes had be
en king for less than five days. Kefier knew the stories about the man, the hero, and had always felt that some of them bordered on outrageous. Agartes was said to have fought beasts from the forests of the Kag single-handedly—the same beasts Naijwa herself must have left behind during her ill-conceived journey through that wilderness. He also defended the city of Kiel against hundreds of local tribesmen with only fifty armed soldiers at his disposal. A general of Hafod before he was twenty-five, he was said to be a gifted statesman, forcing those uninhabitable, wild lands into cities and settlements that not only withstood every force thrown at it but thrived, in spite of everything. And that was all before he found out he had a connection to the agan, a strong one at that.

  Two guards met Kefier in the courtyard, saluting him. “His Majesty is expecting you,” they said together. Kefier wanted to ask what Yn Garr did to whip them into shape so fast before catching sight of a head on a pike near the guard tower that was being repaired.

  “Is that Iorwin?” he asked, squinting.

  The guards remained motionless. One put one foot forward and said, “Sir, the King…”

  “Yes, all right. I was just making conversation. Ab’s heart, you all used to be a lot more cheerful than this.” No one replied. He looked at Caiso, who shrugged.

  They took them to a room near the armoury. Caiso didn’t follow Kefier inside, saluting once. Kefier opened the door.

  Yn Garr was seated on a desk, bent over a pile of papers. A dog was sitting with its head on Yn Garr’s knee. At the sound of Kefier walking in, the dog turned, tail wagging.

  “It’s about time you resumed your responsibilities,” Yn Garr said. He didn’t look up. “Once you had learned the girl was alive, you should have made your way back here without a fuss. You know she’s needed.”

  “You have Arn,” Kefier said in a low voice. “She lost control of the creature back there.” He glanced through the window. The roof of the armoury was visible even in the grey light. You couldn’t tell what was inside just from looking at it.

  “With sufficient practice, it will learn to bend to her will again. Arn is not what I would call capable by any stretch of imagination.”

  “You finally admit it,” Kefier breathed. “Why the hell do you force us to work with him? The boy is mad—he released Farg’s creature because he thought it would be fun. If not for that, Rosha’s life wouldn’t have been in danger. You make us all to work beyond our capabilities, but then cripple us with Arn’s presence. Remove the griffon from him and keep him locked up and away from Rosha. Then perhaps I’ll be more reasonable when dealing with you.”

  “The boy is harmless,” Yn Garr said.

  Kefier almost choked on his rage. “Can you even hear yourself?”

  Yn Garr looked up. The movement dislodged the dog from his leg. It crossed the room towards Kefier, its whole body wriggling. Kefier ignored it.

  “Tell me, Ke-if,” Yn Garr said, his voice assuming a strange timbre. “What does it feel like to have Rosha returned to you after thinking you’ve lost her forever?”

  “I don’t understand your question.”

  “You don’t have to. It’s rhetorical.” He whistled to the dog. It circled Kefier one last time before returning to its master. Yn Garr placed his hands on the dog’s head. “As a father, you must now understand what it means to be on both sides of that river of sorrow. Do you remember our conversation in the round hall?”

  “You had Elrend and his son’s blood all over you. How could I forget?”

  “I had a son. Aldeti.” His voice had now gone down to barely above a whisper. “He loved music. Loved it from the moment he was born. Every time his mother sang to him he would look up and refuse to sleep. When he was older, he wanted to learn every instrument he got his hands on. He always tapped his fingers, like so, as if he was playing on a piano or a viol.” He showed Kefier.

  Kefier swallowed. He had seen that sort of behaviour from Arn before. “So Arn reminds you of your son?”

  “The music, Aldeti said, was in his head,” Yn Garr said. “The first time I saw Arn, he was playing a rendition of one of Ermine Ranochi’s songs on a five-note reed flute. This may be hard for you to understand, but this is an extremely difficult thing to do, especially for a ten-year-old boy raised by the Laidari. This song came from The Ballad of Aenith and happened to be Aldeti’s favourite one. He would hum it so often that I got sick of it and told him not to…”

  Yn Garr stopped, his left hand shaking, and returned to stroking his dog. When he had regained his composure, he continued. “Souls do not remember. They cannot. They are returned to live again, overriding whatever life…no matter how precious, and beloved…they once had. Traces of who they were, remain—an essence that goes beyond memory—like the way my son breathed music without thinking about it. But out of them all, only I can remember what had ever been.”

  “Arn isn’t your son,” Kefier said.

  “You are not connected to the agan. You do not know anything about the fabric and how our souls traverse the rivers. You—”

  “I know more than you think,” Kefier said. “But what I’m saying stands. Arn is not Aldeti. You’re allowing your emotions to cloud your judgment. So what if you think he’s got your son’s soul? What difference does that make to our life now?”

  Yn Garr looked at him closely. “Gorrhen would vex me in exactly the same way.”

  “You—”

  Yn Garr burst out laughing. The sound of it made Kefier’s insides want to crawl. He wondered if he had the speed to draw his sword and still catch him off guard. Yn Garr’s death would be the most convenient thing for him right now. The only question was whether he had it in his heart to kill a man who had—for all his scheming—been kind, in his own way, to Rosha. Caiso and Enosh would probably know the answer.

  There was a knock on the door. It opened. Dai walked in.

  “I’m told this is your woman’s nephew,” Yn Garr said, getting up.

  “She’s not…” Kefier began.

  Yn Garr lifted a hand. “Trivialities. I’m not interested. You. What is your name?” he asked, looking at the boy.

  Dai gazed back at him. “Myar, sir. It’s Myar. Don’t you remember?”

  The last night of Soshain’s life felt like any other. Meirosh had gone out to meet with the other chiefs and elders in Sen’senal and was not expected to be back until early in the morning. It had been raining, and cold.

  “Would you go and get me a blanket for my toes?” she asked Enosh, who was sitting cross-legged in the middle of the room with a book and a lantern.

  Ke-if had been lying in bed beside her, his head on the crook of her arm. His little hand went up to her belly. It was stretched taut over the infant inside. He felt the baby move, felt it turn.

  “What are we naming him?” he asked.

  “Sender, if it’s a boy,” Soshain said, smiling. “Kirosha, if it’s a girl.”

  “Enosh doesn’t want a girl,” Ke-if said.

  “Don’t tell her that!” Enosh said, appearing by the doorway. He dropped the blanket over Soshain’s feet. “I just think another brother would be nice. That’s all. Then I could have another general.”

  “You and your imagination,” Soshain said, reaching out for him. “Come and hold me. Or are you too big now?”

  Enosh clambered onto the other side of the bed without hesitation. It was a small mattress, set up right against the wall, but somehow all three…four…of them were able to fit. Enosh tried to touch her belly, too, but Ke-if slapped his hand away.

  “Why can’t a girl be a general? If she’s like Mama, she could be.”

  Enosh rolled his eyes. “There’s been no girl generals in all of Gentigen’s history, stupid.”

  “Enosh,” Soshain chided, the exhaustion clear in her voice.

  “I just meant that if he read more books—or Ke-if, if you paid more attention, you would know that.”

  “There’s Tiora.”

  “She was a princess.”


  “She killed fifty-one Dageian soldiers herself.” He looked at Soshain. “If it’s a girl, let’s name her Tiora.”

  “Your father and I settled on Kirosha. Perhaps the next one…” She grimaced for a moment.

  Ke-if sat up to look into her face. “Are you all right, Mama?”

  “The baby’s making her do that,” Enosh said. “It was like that when you were in her belly, too. Stop worrying.”

  “Do you want me to get you anything, Mama?” Ke-if asked.

  She smiled, shaking her head. “Just lie beside me, my love.”

  He hesitated before returning to his position. He allowed Enosh to hug Soshain. Outside, the rain continued to beat against the shuttered window with a strength that seemed to freeze time itself.

  He fell asleep, feeling the warmth spread within and all around. He never saw his mother alive again.

  The memory felt like a balm, a layer of protection against the flood of emotion that came from watching Yn Garr approach Dai as if he was a glass statue that would break with a single touch. A significant length of time passed before he spoke. “How is this possible?” he asked. “You…”

  “I died,” Dai said, using the soft tones he used when he went as Myar. “I know. I felt it.”

  Yn Garr’s face was a tight mask. Kefier couldn’t tell if he was in pain or if Dai’s words infuriated him. “It is not possible for you to remember. You’re mistaken, or lying…”

  “I’m not lying.”

  “Then prove it!”

  Dai’s face contorted. “You left for Tilarthan after arguing with Gorrhen, so we never got the chance to say goodbye. Mother had prepared roast duck and soup with dumplings, the way you liked it. But roast duck made Jairon itchy and he sulked that whole day. I had to stop him from picking a fight with Gorrhen several times, but of course neither of them listened to me. Then Aldeti…”

  “Stop,” Yn Garr said. “Some of these could be read from any history book.”