My eyes fell to my father’s glassy, lifeless eyes again, his body growing stiffer and colder with every passing minute, and I began to sob as the hard truth sunk in. He was gone. Really gone. Forever. I slumped over his chest in a hopeless heap, struggling to fill my lungs with air as I wept.
Ben slowly hobbled up behind me, reaching down to rest a hand on my shoulder, giving it a comforting squeeze. “There is nothing you can do for him.” He spoke lowly, a hint of compassion in his voice amidst the gruffness. Despite his clear desire to leave, he looked over his shoulder towards his horse, jaw tightening before he let out a faint sigh of resignation, though he didn’t step away. His hand gripped my shoulder tightly again before he let go, though he remained at my side.
The sound of horses and laughter reached us, my family returning from dinner in high spirits despite the gloomy weather. Their cheerfulness was silenced as they saw the scene, halting as they stared in slow comprehension of what had transpired in their absence.
Rhian let out a strangled cry and was the first to dismount, Brynmor down nearly as quickly. Rhian’s feet hardly touched the mud as she bolted over and knelt, her hands grabbing at his coat and shoulders, shaking him as she began to cry. “Papa? Papa!” She saw the slash across his neck and shook her head. “Oh, no. No!” She fell across Father’s chest and wailed.
Brynmor came up behind Rhian, shock filling his face as he stared down at the sight of Father. He paled, but seemed to find his tongue as he gently pulled Rhian back up. “Rhi…” He said hoarsely, the teen twisting around to wrap her arms around Brynmor’s waist to continue sobbing into his chest.
Iolyn turned white as he approached, looking like he had been punched in the stomach. “Oh, gods…” His hand reached up to cover his mouth, trying not to get sick. Madox grimaced and dragged his hand down over his face, paling a little himself.
I couldn’t think straight, grief and panic building up until I was gasping for air. “We have to...We can’t leave him here. We need to bury him. We can’t…” I rubbed my forehead, leaving a streak of mud and blood across it. I needed to do something...anything...
I heard Ben murmur, his fingers pressing against my shoulder. “Breathe…” I barely heard him, trying to sort out my jumbled thoughts into a decision on what to do now. Ben’s whispered instruction finally seeped into my conscious thought and I tried a deeper breath, then another. Shutting my eyes, I tried to focus. My grief would have to wait.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Father was dead. Slowly my thoughts began to come together...He had been murdered, but by whom or why was a mystery. The Watchmen of Lund needed to come, but what could they do? If this was at all related to the Azkaelomin, then the Watchmen would be useless. But investigations and abductors aside, we still needed to lay him to rest.
“We must build the pyre.” I said at last, drawing the eyes of everyone there. It was the custom of Taurovan aristocracy to cremate their dead as Idhros, commanded. It was how the fallen found rebirth in the Shrouded Realm, and to fail to provide the deceased this rite was unforgivable. “Iolyn, you and I will prepare Father’s body, Madox and Bryn, get the wood and begin building. Rhian, g-...” She cut me off before I could give her a task, whirling around and out of Brynmor’s arms to shriek.
“No! You cannot make me do this!” She turned to flee, her foot catching on Father’s boot, sending her pitching forward and straight into Ben’s arms. He grimaced hard as she careened into him, the pain from his injuries tearing at him from the impact.
Rhian burst into tears all over again and Ben gave me a dark look. “I will take her inside.” He growled as though it was entirely my fault she was upset. Rhian clung to him and nodded against his chest, Ben giving me one last indecipherable look before turning to head inside with my sister.
Tears brimmed, slowly trickling down my cheeks as I watched them go. I couldn’t blame Rhian for her outburst, I knew I was asking too much of someone who didn’t know how to work despite grief. My throat closed in as I looked over to Darius, pausing to find my voice before making my request of him. “Go to Lund and to the Watchmen. They will need to investigate quickly before the rain washes away any last traces.” He nodded silently, in complete shock, though he returned to his horse and left.
Madox gave me a deeply sympathetic look, though I knew he and Father had been close and his own heart would be heavy with grief. “Where do you want us to set up the pyre, Lady Carys?” He asked, his voice thick as he tried to mask his emotion.
I finally rose, gently setting my father’s body on the ground with the utmost reverence and regret. “Where we had the bonfire...There are some small trees that can be felled to help make the pyre.” It was like I had turned into some sort of machine, my movements and my thoughts suddenly devoid of emotion. I had to be this way if I was to get everyone else though it. Have courage, Carys. My father’s words echoed in my mind and I nearly broke down. He always knew when I was afraid, and even now he whispered to me.
Madox nodded gravely and headed into the woodshed, Brynmor giving me a long, saddened look before following after him. Iolyn looked lost, barely able to speak. “I don’t...uh, I don’t know how to uh...wrap a body, Carys. I can’t...” He said bleakly.
I motioned for him to help me carry Father. “I’ll help...We’ll figure it out. We, um…, can’t leave him in the mud, so let’s take him into the shed...there is a table in there and we can set him on that, alright?” Iolyn nodded silently and moved around to take Father’s shoulders, gently hoisting him as I did the same for his legs.
His body was so heavy...stiff and cold...His clothing was soaked with rain and blood, its distinctive metallic smell bringing with it terror from the night I found Ben, those memories filling my mind alongside my current grief. I thought I was going to be sick, my stomach churning as the thought came. I was too late in finding him...I couldn’t help him.
We placed him on the long table in the shelter of the shed, taking care to pull his cloak over his body respectfully. I went into the house to get what we would need for his cremation, listening with an aching heart to Rhian weeping in our bedroom as she changed into dry clothes. Ben sat on a chair, stone-faced and rubbing his leg where the cauterized skin miraculously held, his eyes on me as I moved around the room, though I ignored him. I needed to focus, and he was the my biggest distraction.
Sheets to make his death shroud...incense...I hadn’t been to many funerals, and certainly never made any preparations for one, and tried to remember what I had read long ago about Idhros and his commandments. I recalled some things, grateful that the god of death had kept things relatively simple, but not nearly as much as I should have for the amount of education I had. I grabbed what I could think of and headed back outside.
Iolyn was staring forlornly at Father’s body as he stood next to the table. His hand rested on Father’s chest over his heart as though he willed it to begin beating again, though he glanced over to me when I entered the shed. “I was a terrible son.” He murmured dismally to me before we silently began preparing his body to the rhythmic drumming of the rain beating on the roof.
Four hours later, Father was wrapped in his death shroud, his body washed and scented with the incense and prepared as best we could manage for his journey to the Afterlife. The pyre was built and soaked in kerosene, Madox admitting grimly that it was not the first he had built, and explained how the rain would make it difficult to get the fire hot enough and that the kerosene would help.
The Watchmen had come with Darius, respectfully not interrupting our preparations though pulled each member of the Household aside quietly for a statement before beginning a search of the area for any clues that hadn’t washed away with the rain.
I went back into the house to get Rhian, who was seated on the couch with her face buried in her hands, still weeping uncontrollably. Ben was stoking the fire, trying to warm the house and fend off the icy chill and the damp that seemed to permeate every corner of the house, though his attention turned to me
with a slight frown as I entered.
“Rhian.” I beckoned to her while speaking gently. “It’s time. Where is Mother?” I asked, looking around with a growing frown. Mother had left in the late morning, but I hadn’t seen her return yet, and everyone else was accounted for.
“I d-don’t know…” She said, wiping tears from her cheeks. “But I can’t go out there, Carys. I just can’t!” A fresh torrent of tears streamed down her face as I stared at her, dumbfounded.
“Rhi, this is Father’s funeral. You need to be there or you will regret it for the rest of your life.” I sighed, already exhausted beyond measure and her refusal was not helping make that any better. It wasn’t that I didn’t understand how she felt, I could barely bring myself to do any of this.
She shook her head, looking up to me with tear-filled eyes. “I just can’t go out there.” She whispered to me, starting to cry all over again. “I’m not ready to say goodbye yet.” None of us were ready, I wanted to tell her.
My own grief was beginning to seep back in and I found it increasingly difficult to keep it together. Tears pricked at my eyes as I ran my hand over my soaked hair, trying to find my voice and the right words to say, but Ben cleared his throat gently and spoke. “I will stay with her.” He grunted softly, and I nodded, though my eyes remained on Rhian.
“Alright,” I finally relented, far too tired to argue, and without even sparing a glance to Ben, I walked out the door and headed to the pyre.
The pyre was nothing extravagant, the wood piled high around the bier on which Father now lay. The pouring rain had become a drizzle, and while we were drenched and cold and grief-stricken, nobody complained.
Everyone was now standing solemnly around the pyre, looking to me as I arrived. “Rhian preferred to grieve inside and Ben chose to remain with her. Mother is still gone, and nobody knows where she is, but we are going to continue; I hope that she chooses to come home soon.” Brynmor came to stand beside me, wrapping an arm around my shoulders to offer me comfort, and I set aside my turbulent emotions where he was involved to hug him back. His grief was no less real than my own, after all.
Slow steps took me to the bier where I took up the torch, everyone’s eyes on Father’s wrapped form. The night fell silent but for the sound of the rain on the leaves until the flames of the torch lit the wood with a whoof.
“We commit your body to the water and the earth, and your spirit to the flames and the skies,” I began, my voice thick with emotion. “We give you to Idhros and allow his Phoenix to carry your spirit to the Shrouded Realm. We give you to the gentle care of Kaeus the Creator who will guard your soul until the end of all things, when we shall meet you once again.” A tear slid down my cheek as I stopped speaking.
I wanted to continue...there were so many things I wanted to say. So many things I had never told him and always meant to, but my words died on my lips as I realized he would never hear me. My throat closed up and a vast sorrow gripped me, and I stepped up to the pyre, hearing the soft murmurings of the others as they said their own last words.
I stepped back to join the line of my family, unable to do anything but stare at the flames as they reached their long fingers upwards into the skies to release their sparks into the skies and beyond.
Nobody wept aloud, though the pain was palpable. He was gone, and it didn’t seem real. None of this did. Maybe this was some horrible nightmare that I would wake from, and Father would be smiling at me when I awoke, teasing me about something silly. I wished, and I hoped, but I knew better. He was gone and I felt utterly alone.
I don’t know how long we all stood there, lost entirely in our thoughts and memories; I finally began to allow myself to grieve, though no tears came. I was numb, and I thought perhaps it was better that I stay that way...it was easier than feeling the pain of loss.
Iolyn’s arms went around me, pulling me from the haven of my thoughts to the cruel reality of the funeral around me. “Go inside, Carys. You are drenched, cold, exhausted, and haven’t eaten all day. Go get some rest. We will make sure everything out here is taken care of.” He pulled me in close, murmuring softly in my ear and I could only nod. I let him hold me another moment before I pulled away in silence, turning around to return to the house.
The warmth of the cottage was a welcome change from the cold outside, and it only took a moment for the prickles to start. I was soaked to the skin, my drenched dress and wrap clinging tightly to me as the chill that had set deep in my bones slowly began to ease. While the fire looked fiercely inviting, that was not what captured my full attention.
Ben sat on Rhian’s bed, Rhian curled up tightly in his lap with his arms looped securely around her shoulders in a tender embrace. It was the sort of embrace that looked romantic, the kind that screamed the agonizing truth. He couldn’t stay here for me, be he would stay here for her.
He looked up to me and lifted a finger to his lips to shush me; Rhian had fallen asleep in his arms. I had never felt like more of a fool than in that moment...everything he had done was for her, letting me believe he cared about me in the process, so long as it kept him with her. I headed towards them though I couldn’t bring myself to look at him, crouching, and gently pulling my sister free of his arms so that I could lay her properly in her bed.
Ben frowned at me as he rose awkwardly from the bed before hobbling back into the main room, Rhian waking a little as I moved her and yawning deeply as she rolled over and sinking back into her slumber, allowing me to pull her blankets over her. I tucked her in snugly before returning to the front room where Ben now stood, glaring down to me.
The cold seeped from my bones, causing my teeth to start chattering as I pushed my hair away from my face. It was plastered to my head, I was covered in soot, mud, and blood, and smelled of smoke and burning flesh, but none of that occurred to me with the harsh truths I now had to face.
“So this is why you chose to stay?” I asked. My voice cracked as it filled with the pain that I had no strength to hide. “For some cuddle time with Rhian? You let her skip her father’s funeral to have time alone with her?” I was very quickly losing control as the full force of my emotions returned, leaving me overwhelmed and unable to think clearly any longer. “You can’t stay because of me, but you will for my sister...gods, it’s always about my sister!” I began to cry, turning so that he would not see my face.
The sudden and horrifying loss of my father and Ben’s rejection of me in favor of my sister broke me at last and I wept, sagging to the chair next to the roaring fire. Water dripped off of me and onto the floorboards, still stained red from Ben’s blood.
Ben said nothing, only standing, staring at me. His fingers flexed, and he looked agonizingly conflicted. Finally he growled. “I didn’t stay to cuddle with her, but she needed comforting.” He said softly, his face contorting as he struggled with his own emotions.
I stared back up to him, exhausted and too tired to argue. She needed comfort? What about me?! I wanted to scream at him, but I couldn’t. I could only stare at the fire and wonder why nobody ever saw me? A single sob escaped me and Ben still just stood there, his jaw so tight I thought the bone would crack. “I thought you were leaving,” I finally managed to grunt through my tears; the agonized look on his face suddenly grew hard and cold.
“I am. Goodbye, Carys.” He said coldly, picking up his pack and limping out the door and into the pouring rain. I was shattered at last, unable to contain my sobbing as my heart was finally tore apart and I curled into a little ball in front of the fire as my grief overtook me.
CHAPTER 58
I woke at dawn, still curled up at the hearth though the flames had nearly died. I was rumpled, filthy and emotionally dead. My tears had long stopped flowing, though the wrenching ache that tore at my heart had not. I sat up, reaching out to grab a log to set it on the fire, coaxing the dying embers back to life.
The door gently creaked open, letting in a wave of chilly morning air. The rain from the day before had turned to snow during t
he night, leaving a thin dusting of white over the crimson stained mud while reminding us that it was still winter, despite the warmer than usual temperatures. The horizon started to lighten as the sun began its ascent, just in time to reveal Mother’s silhouette in the doorway as she carefully and silently stepped inside.
She stopped in surprise when she spotted me at the fireplace, though she flashed me what she believed was a disarming smile as she spoke. “Carys, darling…” She looked me up and down to see my state of devastation, frowning slightly before scolding me gently. “Dare I ask what prompted you to roll around in the mud?”
I narrowed my eyes at her as I rose stiffly to my feet. “Where have you been?” I snapped, wary of waking the others, but while I could contain my volume, I could not contain my anger.
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