“This boy was an honor to us all,” he said, his voice rough with stifled emotion. “He died a warrior true. His memory in our hearts will never dim, nor fade. He’d the courage and loyalty and the heart of a true Kel’Hallan. He will be missed.”
Kel’Ratan’s voice choked off, as though a small bone caught there. His fiercely red face dropped. “Dammit, boy, I miss you already.”
Kel’Ratan turned abruptly and stalked toward the patient line of saddled horses and packed mules. Nahar trotted at his heel, his ears slack, his head and tail low. Rather than adjust saddles and packs and make certain all was in readiness to travel as he usually did, Kel’Ratan leaned against his bay’s rump, his shoulders heaving, his head down.
In unison, Left and Right bowed to the fallen and walked away from Alun’s grave. Lightfoot and Dire followed close, their ears canted backward.
Arianne dropped a late bloom on the grey rocks roughly in the area of his breast, and turned to me. I knew she wanted to offer me comfort and speak words that should help but never would or ever could.
Instead, her fingers brushed my taut cheek in a brief offer of love before turning away. Tuatha followed after, casting anxious blue eyes over his shoulder at Raine and I. Darkhan, Ghost, Thunder and Digger trailed in her wake, no doubt answering her silent call to follow her.
Corwyn, like Arianne, knew there were no words in this universe that could ease this terrible pain. In a motion utterly unlike him, his big hand grasped the back of my neck. He pulled my face into his brawny shoulder for an instant; he kissed my brow. With a respectful nod to Raine, he too, walked away to tend his horse a final time before departure.
I knew Tor had no idea what to do. He fidgeted and worried, wanting to say the right thing. Though he grieved for Alun, he wasn’t as close to him as the rest of us. I also knew he’d not leave until Yuri and Yuras did. Yuri finally stepped forward and bowed low.
“Farewell, my brother,” he murmured, his blond hair swinging. “You’re a hard act to follow, but I pray I shall do as well as you.”
With a quick salute to me, he bowed again and walked away, Warrior Dog at his side.
“I miss you,” Yuras said, saluting the cairn. “I’ll always miss you.”
He bowed to both me and the fallen then walked toward Kel’Ratan. Scatters Them trailed in his wake, silent, his tail low.
Tor still felt the need to say something. “Thank you for the bow you made me,” he said, his voice faltering. “I’ll always treasure it.”
He scuttled away, behind Yuras. Kip, livelier than the others, trotted happily at his side, his tail high and waving.
Rygel limped forward. The skin of his face, pale and gaunt with pain and sorrow, stretched across his cheekbones. His wheaten hair plastered to his neck with thick sweat. There’d been no time to tend his injuries, and I knew he’d been badly hurt in the fight with the daemon. I swallowed part of the lump in my throat, my compassion for him rising, for the moment, amid my grief.
He didn’t look at me, nor at Raine at my side. He stood for a moment, staring down at the rocks and Arianne’s flower, his face a taut mask that revealed nothing. With his amber eyes fixed and shining with unshed tears, his words were simple and heartfelt.
“Thank you,” he said. “Thank you for saving her.”
My self-control slipped a notch. My throat shut down tight again, my chest burning as Rygel bowed briefly before lurching painfully away. He never glanced toward me nor at Raine. Little Bull walked at his side, his head raised to watch Rygel’s face with worry.
His absence left behind myself, Raine, Silverruff, Witraz, Joker, Rannon and Shadow. Tears rolled unchecked down Rannon’s bristled cheeks.
“Dammit, bro,” he choked. “It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Damn you for abandoning me, abandoning us. Damn you, for leaving her. Damn you.”
Rannon stumbled away, his head low, his hands knotted together and held clasped tight behind his neck. My heart plummeted further, witnessing his pain. Tears stung my eyes but I refused to let them fall. I sensed Raine’s worry, his concern at my continued silence. Like his sister, he knew that to speak, or offer me any support, would capsize my much needed self-control.
“I’m not going to apologize,” Witraz said stiffly, his single eye burning. “I know you want me to, but you had it coming. You did, dammit. I told you to quit hitting me.”
His confession confused me. I glanced up, meeting Raine’s warm, grey eyes. He closed them briefly and smiled slightly, before glancing at Witraz. He knew what Witraz meant, and he’d tell me later. One day when my grief wasn’t so raw.
Tears dripped from Witraz’s single eye. “Dammit, man, I need you. Why aren’t you here? I can’t, I can’t, go home without you.”
Choking, Witraz turned away and almost ran toward the horses, Joker loping to keep up. Witraz, Rannon and Alun were closer than brothers. The laughing, errant, disrespectful trio had lost one of their own. Would they recover?
Would I?
Raine’s finger caught a tear that escaped and rolled down my cheek. Bringing it to his handsome lips, he kissed it, his grey eyes weird and filled with love. I’m here for you, his eyes said. Whenever you need me.
When he spoke, he spoke to Alun’s grave. His grave, as Alun wasn’t there to hear. They’d all spoken to a pile of rocks and the silent corpse beneath them.
“You’re the best, old son,” Raine said. “Maybe you can hear me, and maybe you can’t. If you can, please listen close. I heard something a long time ago. What we do in this life resounds throughout eternity. You, my brother, have earned yourself a seat among the greatest. I hope that one day I can take your hand and buy you a round. You saved one I love more than my own life. For that, I’m in your debt.”
Raine’s hand brushed my cheek before he strode firmly away, Silverruff at his side. He knew quite well what I needed and craved. He left me behind to speak to the dead. Alone.
They all knew. They all knew I needed to echo aloud, without witnesses, the voices from my heart. Though I remained stoic throughout the simple ceremony, I finally allowed my tears to fall as I knelt beside his cairn and kissed the rocks covering his face.
“We were to grow old together, you and I,” I murmured, choking. “Wasn’t that our agreement? I reckon Sele needed you more than I. Not quite fair, really, as I think I needed you more. I can live with that, I suspect. I do miss you, you know. I always will.”
I lifted my face to the early afternoon sunshine, the sounds of the scavengers feasting on the dead far and distant. I shut my eyes.
“Thank you,” I said simply. “Thank for not just saving my life but for everything. For being a part of my life.”
I let the bright winter sunshine warm me from without, solace stealing over my soul. In the soft soughing of the mountain breeze I heard the sweet notes of a flute.
“Don’t you dare comfort me, dammit,” I said without opening my eyes. “You left me. You left me when I still need you. You’re a bloody boor to leave me like this.”
I bowed my head once more, my tears staining the rocks. “I must go on without you, I reckon. I can’t follow you now. I have too much to do. I have to help Raine fight his monster and you know very well what Father is like–”
I swiped at my streaming eyes. “Dammit, you know the bind I’m in. Just do me a favor, please?”
I choked over the knot in my throat. I hugged myself tight, my arms around my ribs, forcing my scream of grief to remain locked within, unvoiced, unheard. “Come see me, now and again? Please? Visit me in my dreams and keep your friend happy. Will you let me know how you are?”
The winter breeze whispered over the mountaintop, its breath like a fresh new day. My hair lifted under its velvety power, and stroked my neck with a warm hand. The sweet notes of the flute fell away, as though dropped from ghostly lips.
You’ll always know.
‘Twas his voice I heard over the snow and tundra, murmuring in my ear, teasing me with its familiar tones. His s
oul stepped onto the whispering wind, its stairway climbing nigh to heaven itself. If I shut my eyes, I may witness his climb, hand in hand with Sele; two dim forms that glowed under the light of the sun.
I didn’t look, for should I see such a vision, I think my heart might well shatter.
While I wanted to fold up amid the rocks and weep like a child, I stood and gazed down. The stones of his cairn wavered in my sight.
“Farewell, Alun,” I whispered. “Be at peace, my warrior.”
“He won’t hear me,” Raine said, his scarred face bleak, his voice hoarse.
I walked back toward Alun’s grave, my heart bleeding afresh at seeing Black Tongue’s head resting on the rocks at Alun’s feet. I paused, uncertain. I wanted to go to him, feeling the silly need to do something, to say anything. I walked several steps toward him, my hand extended.
I stopped, uncertain. What could I say? Time heals all wounds? He’s in a better place? Come, things will be better tomorrow?
All the things my people wanted to say to me and I rejected them before the words were ever uttered. There was no comfort in words. Time may heal all wounds, but there were some wounds an eternity could never heal. We all must go on. We must live without him.
Black Tongue more than grieved for his lost friend. He not just refused to live without him. He longed to join him.
I dropped my hand and turned away. Knowing Black Tongue made his choice didn’t make it any easier. I walked back, my heart in my boots and my throat shut down tight. Checking Mikk’s gear gave me a necessary distraction, but didn’t help much. I couldn’t speak, couldn’t cry, couldn’t breathe.
“He’ll die of starvation,’ Kel’Ratan fumed. “A long slow death. Maybe we should make him come with us.”
Raine shook his head, his black hair dancing. “His spirit is leaving. His body will die within hours.”
Rannon gaped. “He can will himself to die?”
“He can,” Rygel replied softly. “Soon, he’ll no longer walk this world.”
Kel’Ratan wheeled toward me. “Talk to him. You did it with Darkhan. Convince him, encourage his will to live.”
I glanced back, over my shoulder, at the silent silver-grey form of Black Tongue. His head lay at Alun’s feet, curled about the rocks as though reclining on a comfortable bed. As his head turned away from us, I couldn’t determine if his eyes were open or shut, or if he truly heard us and ignored our paltry comfort. It didn’t matter, really. Black Tongue may be lying there, his breath mixed with chilly pine-scented air, but he’d already left us.
Immediately, I turned away, my emotions almost too strong for me to control. Frantic, I climbed aboard Mikk, ready, needing, to be away from this place. Away from this place of death and slaughter and grief.
“I cannot,” I choked. “He’ll not hear me. It’s too late.”
“It’s never–”
“It is too late,” Arianne said, her voice heavy with tears. “This is his choice.”
Cursing, Kel’Ratan wheeled his stallion, setting gold spurs to silken bay hide, and led the exodus from death. My boys and their friends followed after, treasuring the memory of one of their own while willing to pretend he still lived. Black Tongue would soon be with his beloved Alun. I should be glad for him.
I wasn’t.
I gathered in my scattered courage and dragged in a deep breath. Urging Mikk to catch up to the others with Tuatha in my lap, I faced sternly ahead. I dared not look back. Should I chance to witness the sight of Black Tongue lying at Alun’s feet once more, I knew I’d lose all control. And should I begin to weep, I might not be able to stop.
We rode away.
Only those braver than I glanced back at the grave of our brother–
–and the wolf who loved him.
Keeper of the Sacred Flame
Chapter 15
“The Tongu are broken.”
Rygel’s dull voice replied to a question I only half-heard. I don’t even know who asked it.
I sat aboard Tashira’s broad back, staring up at the impossible.
Pausing for a midday break, the others had dismounted to break open food packs, loosen girths and set horses to grazing. I had yet to join them. Tashira waited, as patient as time, remaining quiet and still beneath me.
“What do you mean?” Kel’Ratan asked.
“With their king and god banished from this earth,” Rygel went on, pain clear in his voice, “they’ve no power any longer. They are just ordinary, freaky-looking men now.”
I glanced over my shoulder, frowning. I’d done all I could in healing him, yet still he hurt. Between the Jha’fhar’s miraculous ointment and my healing, most of us had recovered from our battle with the Tongu. Hundreds of dog bites on men, wolves and horses had to be treated quickly before they inflamed. Numerous cuts from swords, bruises from cudgels, shallow arrow wounds were smothered in salve, wrapped, and already, two days later, all but healed.
Rygel had been injured the worst from his battle with the Tongu’s daemon. Between all that had happened, I ran myself ragged in healing not just the most grievous of his injuries, but the many vicious bites from the hounds on us all. Rygel’s case took the most time and effort from me, and I hadn’t healed myself of my own wounds. He rode, uncomplaining, completed his share of the camp chores, yet fell into exhausted slumber every night.
He tried to refuse further help, and wanted nature to take her course with him. Despite his protests, at every opportunity I had, with every ounce of energy I possessed, I poured my powers into him. Each day he woke feeling better, but the constant travel in extreme climes, and the grief we all felt exhausted him. He didn’t return to good health and acerbic comments as he should have under different circumstances. Nor did he complain.
Other than offhand swipes with the ointment, I withheld healing my own wounds. I needed to save my powers for others. They still gave me great pain, but like Rygel, I kept it to myself. Ly’Tana knew, by the way she watched me, that the last two days of riding hard had taken its toll on me. Despite my determination to stay awake, I dozed on Tashira’s back as we travelled. That in itself earned me concerned stares from more than just Ly’Tana.
Ly’Tana, too, kept her silence. Her own pain, her grief over the deaths of Alun and Black Tongue she kept locked within her own misery. She refused to weep, spoke little, and performed her share of camp chores. Her outer wounds healed with hardly a scar.
I fretted over the wounds I couldn’t heal.
Both nights since Alun’s death I lay outside her tent, curled with my tail over my muzzle. Both nights she crawled out from under the tent’s flap, dragging a fur with her. Leaving behind the warmth of the tent, she snuggled between my front legs, shivering, her tears frozen on her cheeks. Only then could she sleep, wrapped in fur under my thick ruff, warm and protected. Within the depths of her dreams, she cried out Alun’s name.
Witraz sharp tone broke into my reverie.
“Bloody good thing, too,” he added, his voice cold. “Good riddance to the lot of them.”
Kel’Ratan cast an uneasy glance over his shoulder where Ly’Tana slid down from her saddle in the midst of the group, well out of earshot, and rubbed her stallion’s muzzle.
“Why didn’t she curse the damn thing?” he asked, confused. “Why would she bless it?”
“Oanh’ata is evil,” Rygel explained, his voice low. “A daemon. A curse would rebound off it and we’d all be dog food now. It’s impervious to curses. Yet, it’s vulnerable to a blessing. It has no protection against pure goodness.”
No few fingers made the sign against strong enchantment. I sighed, turning back to again gaze up at the sheer, jagged cliffs, the steep inclines covered in snow and awaiting just the right vibrations to set off avalanches. Ten thousand feet, more, they rose above us, with yet another high range behind them. High peaks covered in thick, winter grey clouds, hiding their heads to their shoulders. High above, I sensed deep within me the beacon that drew me on.
Darius.
In those mountains, I saw little that encouraged and a great deal that frightened. Unease squirmed in my gut. No horse can tread there and survive. Hooves could never find purchase on that slick ice and deep snow, much less find forage. Men on foot, with the proper gear, would take months to traverse those narrow passes. Only those with fangs and claws might find the means to travel, as well as survive, up there.
I returned to the present, and finally slid down from Tashira’s back. I knew my decision would find few followers among the band.
“I don’t like burials,” Kel’Ratan muttered, loosening his girth. “Fire’s better. Something will dig him up for certain.”
“No doubt Black Tongue is stripped by now,” Rannon added, his voice thick. “To think of him–being eaten–”
“Scavengers–” Witraz said, his voice choked.
He cut off, burying his face in his saddle, his shaggy hair concealing his grief.
“No,” Ly’Tana said softly, joining the group with Arianne in tow. They both led their stallions with hands on thick necks rather than bridles.
“Your Highness.”
Tor bowed and made way for them both, and cleared a path by moving his grey mare off to one side.
Ly’Tana smiled. While not one of her more brilliant smiles, those that flashed those white kitten teeth and dented sweet dimples into her face, it was much better than the false ones I’ve witnessed over the last two grueling days.
“They’re protected,” she whispered, her emerald eyes to the side, not toward those to whom she spoke. “None shall desecrate their remains until the world’s end. Not even the wild creatures will disturb their rest.”
Those hands that hadn’t made the sign against powerful magic earlier surely did now. I caught a swift glimpse of Kel’Ratan’s fingers opening and closing in a rapid flexion before diverting his attention to the latest ruckus.
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