None of the clerics, or any of the magi for that matter, could explain why the claymore’s powers had awoken again. It was linked to the fallen king, but Godfrey Brave had no heir, so why now? As it stood, no one could tell. Luthan explained that this weapon had belonged to those who could protect the land, so maybe a Council of Guardians was the solution to Bravoure’s leadership—a term coined by Jules himself. It would unite the military, the Academy, the people, and the Congregation. Someone would one day be elected Mother Divine, and the Red Cardinals would fall under her order as it had once been. Maybe it would be Sister Giselle or another wise woman. In any case, the title of Monarch of Bravoure was for someone new, someone who deserved to carry that title. Someone that could take that weight on their shoulders and turn it into something mighty. But that someone had not yet been found. Perhaps Bravoure’s leadership would remain at the Council of Guardians, or they could find a way to make democracy work the way it should.
It was the light of the morning Sol that made her open her eyes. Ahna took a deep breath, gasping herself awake. It felt as though she had slept for centuries. She looked around and found herself in a sand marble room with other empty cots. A brief glance and she saw the holy symbol of Varko painted on tapestries hanging on the walls. She thought she was alone for a second, but the warm embrace of Luthan made her realize he was here with her.
“Meriel, you’re awake...” he murmured as he released her.
Beside her, Jules rose to his feet. He had spent the night sleeping on the floor. “Thank the gods!” he exclaimed.
Ahna tried to speak, but her throat felt sore. She cleared it, trying to piece words together.
“How...” She could not say more.
Luthan turned around. “Water!” he shouted toward the exit. “She’s awake!”
A cup of water was summoned. Ahna drank all of it and asked for ten more of these cups. Once she was done drinking herself back to life, she sat straight up in the bed and looked to the two men, who seemed way too worried for their own good.
“How long was I out?” she asked, her voice still broken. She cleared her throat again.
“Almost three full moons, Ahnny,” Jules said. He chuckled. He wanted to hug her but was unsure whether it would break her or not. She looked so frail.
“Can you tell me what happened?”
Jules proceeded to explain everything that happened from the moment she had fallen on the ground to now. How the entire city had gathered and teamed up to start anew. The workers had just begun the reconstruction of houses in the north. Some people were already working in the southwest. Plans were being made to restore the Bastion, but that was still an open question. At the end of his story, Jules hesitated for a minute. He had to give her something, but he knew the effect it might have. A few days ago, once the mood had begun to settle down, Thamias had come to him with a letter for Ahna. He had not shared a reason for his prompt departure, but he had left the capital right after, leaving but an empty satchel behind. Jules had not read the letter, but he had a feeling what was written in there. He should give it to her. He could not just tell her that her brother was gone without the wish to return.
Jules retrieved the letter from his satchel and handed it to her. “Sonny left this for you.”
The sensation of the letter brushing against her fingertips was like touching paper for the first time. All her senses were heightened. The light, their voices, the taste of water. Ahna did not wish to open the letter, but she also wanted to know what Thamias had to say. Most of it was written in Common and addressed directly to her. She heard his husky voice speak through the paper.
Meriel,
* * *
You’ve won your battle, Bravoure is saved, but it’s not where I belong. It never was where I belonged. I’m going back to Sud, and I don’t expect you to join me. I need to be alone.
Be safe.
* * *
Ieg elska thig,
Thamias
Ahna’s tears itched her eyes and glazed her vision as she folded the letter back in place. Jules took a guess at what Thamias had said. That he would go and not return. Ahna said nothing and sobbed in silence.
“Don’t worry,” Jules tried to soothe. “He’ll come around.”
Ahna swallowed. She did not want to be comforted. She wanted to be left alone. The two understood, and as much as it broke Luthan’s heart, he turned around and left the infirmary hall, followed by Jules.
The elf knew her brother better than anyone else. The way he had shaped his words. He had given his location, like a subtle hint that she could still find him, but he had also made it clear that he wished to be alone. Ahna wanted to be with him. After what had happened in the Dwellunder, back in their childhood home, they needed to go through this together. How could Thamias not see that?
* * *
It took the whole day and a copious amount of food for her to be able to walk again. Sister Giselle had assisted her, giving her the blessing she needed to restore her energy. Something was different. Ahna was not sure if it was the long time resting or the remnants of the power that had overtaken her during the final battle, but something had changed inside her. She felt this constant delight, like a euphoric sensation, it was both tiring and liberating, like a deep sense of relief after a long and desperate run. Like she could finally breathe. Maybe it was peace.
In the evening, Ahna was given brown leather breeches and a simple beige linen shirt. The air was still warm from the sunset. A crimson shawl was enough for the outside. Luthan waited for her in the Congregation’s garden right by the river. He had waited there all day. His magic still needed to heal. That final spell, the firestorm that had shot from ground to sky, had almost taken it all away. Even after a few months, he could barely summon a spark. He wanted to hold Ahna because he was so relieved that at least she was still there. She was here in his reach, not like his magic, the only other thing he knew. And there was something else, the reason why he had a grey horse beside him and carried two satchels. He could accept the Elvenqueen’s offer and return to Fallvale. He could take his wife home with him.
After the battle, and after the city had regained its calm, Berius had gone back to the forest to check on the Fae. He had never expressed interest in reconciling with his father, and it was not like he would change his mind now. It should have broken Luthan’s heart, but to his surprise, it barely shook him. The two were like strangers from different times; only blood linked them. There was little he could say to change his son’s mind. There was little a father like him could do. After all, could he even be called a father? He had never been a father to Berius, so why expect Berius to be a son to him now? Nothing held Luthan back here anymore.
Ahna saw Luthan beside his grey horse underneath the garden’s oak. The light of the sunset made his long pure blond hair look gold. It swayed gently behind him in the wind, and so did his silver archmagi robe and traveler’s cloak. He was leaving too, that much was obvious. Ahna felt a lump invade her throat. Luthan was leaving. Would he ask her to leave too?
Would he dare?
He hugged her and gave her a kiss she did not return. Concern flared in his eyes when he saw the look of regret on her face.
“I’m glad you’re okay, kyære,” he said.
“Are you leaving?” Ahna asked, not wasting time.
Luthan straightened his posture and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. He was still holding her. “I’m going back to Fallvale.” His voice was stern and solemn.
Ahna was not surprised. She was aware that he had returned to his home for that quest she still did not know much about. The place that had once cast him out. She remembered how it had affected him. He had never held their marriage responsible, but Ahna knew how much it had hurt him. Now, it seemed as though he was finally welcomed back, and she knew Luthan would not hesitate to take that chance.
“Will you come with me?” he asked.
Ahna’s mouth opened, but she did not have words to give
him in that second. He looked at her expectantly, eager for the answer he desperately hoped for. Because the woman before him did not look at him like she had once done. He had asked her to leave this place behind, leave like he had done sixty years ago. Would she say yes to him? Would she say yes like the last time she had?
“We can have a life there,” Luthan insisted when Ahna did not answer.
Ahna looked around. The gardens and the cathedral were well-preserved, but the rest was in utter ruins. Only a few houses remained standing in this part of the city. The other side of the river looked like an excavation site.
“What about Bravoure?” she wondered.
Luthan smiled. He laid his hands on her arms and rubbed them gently. “Bravoure will get back on her feet. That, I am sure of.”
Ahna took a step back. “Bravoure is in ruins, Luthan. How can you leave now?”
Her question struck him dazed. “The Wolf Pack, Jules, they’re all here. They’ve done so much already. Even the Academy is helping. I don’t think we’ll be of much use.”
Was he serious? The haze in Ahna’s mind was still present, but one thing was clearer than it had ever been. She was needed here. She could not leave, and she could not believe Luthan wanted to, once again, like he had once left with a flock of magi to protect himself.
And there was one more thing, one uncertainty that held Ahna back. Because as she looked to a Luthan desperate to leave, she only saw the face of another man who had haunted her dreams and had finally returned to life.
Ahna slowly shook her head. “I’m not leaving with you, Luthan. I’m staying, and I’m going to give it my best to make this place what it deserves to be.”
Tears had filled her eyes, but she would not cry. Luthan’s heart broke with her voice. One realization crashed upon his shoulders. His wife was no longer his. No matter how much he loved her, how happy he was to have been reunited with her, she had faded away. He would go back home without her, and that was how it was meant to be. A tear rolled down his cheek. Ahna felt a pinch in her heart when she noticed it. She was harsh on him, but this was what was best for him. She took his face in her hand and wiped the tear with her finger. He wanted to kiss her, but she did not let him. She understood his decision. Luthan missed his home. She remembered how he had talked about it sometimes. Going home meant more to him than the fate of this kingdom.
“You deserve to be happy, Luthan,” she whispered to him. “But this is my home.” She swallowed to hold in tears. “And you can’t ask me to leave it.”
Luthan took her hand in his. He closed his eyes as more tears glazed them. “You deserve to be happy too, Meriel,” he said with difficulty. “More than me.” He could not speak without tremors blocking his voice. He inhaled deeply to regain the force to talk. “I just wish it was with me.”
“It was once. Now I’ll be finding my peace, and I hope you do too.” She was smiling at him.
Luthan wanted to beg, or he could just wait a little longer for her to finish her task here and go with him.
No. Who was he kidding? Ahna would stay here. He could feel it emanate from her, that solemn sense of resolve. Her home was here, and she would never leave it. He released her hand, his eyes still closed. When he opened them, he was starstruck by her beauty in the sunset. The way her silver hair shimmered and curled. The sparkles in her purple eyes. She was turning around to leave him when he caught her hand again.
“I’ll be waiting for you if you change your mind. Fallvale will wait for you.” He realized how desperate his words sounded after he had said them.
Ahna simply smiled again. It took her everything not to cry. Her hand slowly detached from his, and she walked away. By the front side of the cathedral stood Jules. He waited for her as she wandered out of the garden. Luthan kept looking at her until she was no longer in sight. By nightfall, he was gone, and whether he would ever return was a question only fate would answer.
* * *
“How are you feeling?” Jules asked.
He sat on a bench with her outside the cathedral, on the burial grounds, close to the Falco-Dallor grave. Thamias was gone. Luthan was gone. Noise from the southwest distracted their attention. The workers were still going strong.
“I’ll be fine,” Ahna replied. She stared at the horizon.
It could have seemed as though her mind was blank, but there was one thought that rang between her pointy ears. It was actually everything that had been screaming in the back of her head. She had tried to silence it, but now, it was louder than ever. That euphoric sensation was now a sense of urgency. She had to pose the burning question.
“Where is Cedric? How is he?” It was almost a whisper.
Jules chuckled and looked to the ground. “I was wondering when you’d finally ask.” He raised his head again and took a short breath. “He’s at the training grounds, north.”
Ahna did not need more information. She rose to her feet with the idea that had conquered her mind.
“He’s not that talkative, though,” Jules said. He still smiled, but concern was embedded in the look on his face. “I think he still needs some time.”
‘Troubled’ was the word Jules would use to describe Cedric. The two had not talked much. He had secluded himself to a chapel with Guan clerics first, and when he was back on his feet, he had made a home at the barracks.
The elf gave him a nod of acknowledgment. The idea that she would see Cedric in a matter of minutes launched her heart on a race to the moon. She caught herself panting. She spun on her heels and headed out of Congregation grounds. She would take the bridge to the northwest and find those training grounds. Find Cedric, the man she had sworn to save. And she’d succeeded.
Jules’s voice called to her before she left for good. “By the way, Ahna!” He paused and waited for her to turn around. “I was right, you know. Guardian of Bravoure is a nice title for you.” Ahna raised a curious brow, and he continued. “You might hear something about the Council of Guardians when you’re back on your feet.”
She smiled. She did not respond to his words, unsure of what they meant. She could ponder on them tomorrow. Right now, she had one crucial thing to do. The one thing that made sense to her, to her heart. Ahna hastened to the bridge. It was already dark, but torches and pyres scattered across the city lit the path before her. She reached the training grounds empty of soldiers. A large field of sand with everything one would expect from a military practice site. There was no one around. She moved her head left and right, looking for Cedric. The sound of metal clashing against wood caught her attention. It came from the open building to the side of the training grounds. It looked like a stable but with training dummies instead of horses.
Ahna walked toward the noise. She knew what she would find, and it filled her body with intense anxiety. She could still turn back. Run away and never be seen again! How foolish had she been to head here in the first place? What did she look like anyway after three moons of darkness?
Cedric had heard the person behind him walk up to him, but he did not turn around. He had a good theory of who it was, though he lacked the courage to acknowledge it. And so instead, he kept on swinging his steel sword at the poor training dummy he had scarred for life. That was his way to cope with the noise in his mind. It had been for the past few months of recovery.
He did not remember anything of what the others had told him. Jules or someone else had been there with him, every day, trying to explain all that had happened. Cedric remembered nothing. The static in his mind was his only home.
Ahna observed him, leaned against the nearest wall. Cedric stood his back to her wearing but breeches and boots. She could see ridges of scars on his back in the flicker of the torch beside him, the ones she had seen only once before. So many scars. So many like hers. She had forgotten them, but seeing them now brought back a wave of memories of him and the mines of Orgna. All they had been through together in such a short space of time. It took a good few minutes and plenty of courage to finally address
him. She was still in disbelief that he was actually here.
“Will you be alright?” she asked. She could have called to him or greeted him or said something other than this direct question, but it felt unnecessary.
Cedric froze. Now, he had to admit to himself that Ahna stood behind him. He could no longer hide. He lowered his sword.
“I’ll manage,” he said and turned around.
There she was, in leather breeches and a linen shirt. She looked exactly the same as he remembered. She looked more beautiful than ever. Her dawn blue skin and purple eyes were everything that had filled his dreams up until now.
And there he was, exactly like she remembered him. His blue eyes pierced right through her. How much did he remember? How did he deal with all of this? What year was it for him? She could not believe it herself that she was asking that question.
“How do you feel?” she asked, ridding herself of that stupid lump down her throat.
Cedric inhaled and shrugged. “I’m not sure how I’m supposed to feel. Jules tells me we’re in 1554. I still can’t believe that.” He held his hand in an arbitrary direction like he was pointing directly at Jules.
“What do you remember?”
He sighed. “I remember Fort Gal like it was yesterday, but I also feel like I’ve blacked out for two hundred years.”
Cedric remembered nothing of his time in the Hollow Earth or his identity as the void dragon. He had no memory of the end of the Battle of Orgna. The last thing he remembered was the naming at the Temple of the Four Winds high in Gurdal. Did he remember her, though? Did he remember what they had shared?
Tempest of Bravoure Page 30