by Erica Rue
Loss surrounded her. A pyrrhic victory, however painful, was still better than defeat, but that was easy for her to say. This wasn’t her home. She could never feel their grief.
Word had gotten back to the temple, and those too old or young to fight rushed out to help. More sobs and cries and wails echoed around the settlement. Victoria’s people were gathering the Ficaran dead and their guns.
Lithia had stunned more than a dozen people, but they were scattered among the dead. She came across an old woman weeping over a young woman, except the young woman had a bite mark. She was still warm to the touch, and Lithia bet the old woman had not checked for a pulse.
“She’s alive,” Lithia said. “Just unconscious, see?” She put the old woman’s hand on the young woman’s chest so she could feel the heart beat. With a sob of relief, the woman hugged Lithia. “She’ll come around in a few hours. Tell others to look for the bite marks.” Lithia pointed to the oval of small puncture wounds. “Those with bite marks might still be alive.”
Benjamin found her next. “Where’s Evy? Where is my daughter?”
“She’s hiding somewhere in the town.” Benjamin hurried off, but Lithia didn’t pay attention to what direction he went. There was too much else going on around her.
“Will they come back?” said a cold voice behind her. It was Victoria. Her expression was grave, and the tension of battle had not quite left her shoulders. Her eyes were bloodshot, and her forehead creased with worry.
“I don’t know.” Lithia wanted to collapse, fall asleep, and forget this mess. She was physically exhausted, but there was so much left to do. “Tell everyone to take the pila blades and make sure all the Vens are really dead. Mark them after, so we can be sure. We can’t have any coming back to life like at the Field Temple.” Victoria nodded. Had she really just taken an order from Lithia?
Lithia looked out across the battlefield, dotted with bodies, crackling with the shouts of Aratians identifying the survivors and waving down care.
She noticed that the Aratians were helping everyone, Ficarans included. She searched among the dead, looking for those who had been stunned. She found more dead than alive, but she kept moving until she physically collapsed.
***
She didn’t realize she’d fallen asleep until her manumed buzzed. It was Dione: Ven ship destroyed. Status?
Lithia looked around. Alive. Zane too. Battle over. It’s bad here.
That was an understatement. She willed herself back to her feet and kept moving. Everywhere she turned, people were weeping. They were carrying bodies to the square or to the Temple. In the darkness, Lithia saw a familiar face.
Cora.
She was draped over a body on the ground, shaking with rhythmic sobs. Don’t let it be Evy. Lithia picked up her pace. Please, not Evy. She approached and recognized the body. The blond hair gave him away. Will did not look like he was sleeping. His eyes were open and unfocused. His face looked untouched, but Cora covered his body.
Lithia put a gentle hand on Cora’s shoulder, but she gave no sign of recognition. After a few moments, Lithia pulled her away from the body. Lithia gasped.
The girl was covered in blood. “Cora!” Lithia said. “Are you hurt?”
Cora shook her head. She couldn’t speak. Lithia looked down at the body and saw the gruesome wound that had undoubtedly killed him. It looked like Will had taken a Venatorian club straight to the chest. It matched up to the bloodstain on Cora’s clothes.
Jai found them moments later. Lithia held out a hand to stop him before he could say anything.
“It’s Will’s blood,” Lithia said softly.
Jai looked down at the body and back at Cora. She had burst into fresh sobs. Jai nodded to her. He understood. He waved over a few others, then approached Cora.
“We’ll take him to the square,” he said.
Cora wailed and covered her face, but nodded all the same.
“I’ll take Cora to get cleaned up after,” he said. He looked as exhausted as she felt, but she was glad he was taking over here. Lithia couldn’t take much more of this emotional labor. She sent another message to Dione: Come back ASAP.
40. DIONE
Lithia’s messages did little to set Dione at ease. The Vens had lost, but Lithia’s tone made that revelation joyless. Behind the tree line, the forest was black to her eyes. She hoped that no more Vens were working their way through the trees. In the moonlight, she could see that the cavalry was prevailing. The maximutes were powerful weapons against the Vens, something the Vens clearly hadn’t planned for. Still, her heart broke for the massive creatures that lay in motionless heaps on the battlefield. Many of the maximutes had died protecting their masters, and she imagined many others were wounded.
She only saw two Vens left, and the remaining maximutes and riders were engaging them. One of the Vens fell, and Dione’s heart pounded with hope. They just might make it through this.
“What’s that?” Brian asked, squinting across the plain.
Dione had been so focused on the battle, she hadn’t noticed the single figure emerge from the forest. A woman. In the pale moonlight, her cloak seemed dark gray, but Dione knew without a doubt that it was deep green.
“Ven worshipers,” she said, but Brian had figured it out at the same time and was rushing toward them. They were so much farther from the battle than the Green Cloak that they were barely within shouting range when she reached them. The Aratian in charge dismounted to meet the cavalry.
“That’s Michael. He must think she’s a runner with a message,” Brian said.
“What does she want?” Dione said.
The answer was immediate. The Green Cloak pulled something from her robes and plunged it into Michael’s throat.
“No!” Dione screamed, stopping for just a moment before rushing ahead. She was panting. Michael fell to his knees first before falling completely. One rider closed in and killed the woman while another dismounted and tended to Michael. Even from a distance, Dione saw the shake of his head. Michael was dead.
The remaining cavalry, suddenly alert, noticed Dione and Brian running toward them and raised their pila blades when they got close. Two mounted men came to stop them.
Bel and the professor had landed after them and were still a bit behind. They were probably just as confused as the men.
Dione held up her hands. “Wait! The Green Cloak,” Dione nodded to the dead woman, “is a Ven worshiper. She’s been helping the… demons.” These men had been away for a few days, and probably hadn’t heard the whole aliens-not-demons story.
The Aratians lowered their weapons just a little, but still looked skeptical. “Michael sent back a small contingent of the cavalry when we heard explosions last night,” one said. “What happened?”
He must have meant the flaminaria mines. The cavalry had missed a lot.
“Here,” Brian said, handing over his communicator to the tall one, presumably the new commander. “Call Benjamin.” Brian showed him how to use the device, and the man seemed shocked to hear Benjamin’s voice. Once he confirmed that it was Benjamin, he took the device to make the call privately. Afterward, the riders seemed to relax and put their blades away, so Benjamin had to have vouched for them. By this time, Bel and the professor had reached them.
“A lot has happened while we’ve been away,” the commander said, returning the communicator to Brian. “He says that the Ficarans will send Flyers for us. When we left, we were trying to defend against the Ficaran attacks.”
“The Vens—you call them demons—posed a threat to everyone on Kepos. You should also know that they destroyed the Ficaran settlement,” Professor Oberon said.
“I won’t lose much sleep over that,” the commander said. Brian tensed next to her, but he said nothing.
“Just remember that they came to your aid when it counted,” Dione said.
***
Dione fell asleep on the Flyer. It wasn’t a long ride, but that short nap gave her the energy she needed to
confront the devastation she witnessed once they arrived. She had noticed that bad news always seemed slightly less awful after a good night’s sleep, but a short nap could do nothing to mitigate the collective grief of the Aratians and Ficarans.
The sun hadn’t yet risen, but the gentle blue before dawn cast a ghostly filter over the settlement.
Even though the battle was over, people were still running about and shouting. And crying. One woman moaned above the rest, giving Dione goose bumps. She looked to her left at Bel, who was nearly paralyzed. She had seen this before. Dione reached out and squeezed Bel’s hand.
“I hate the Vens so much, Dione. I would kill every last one if I could.”
“I know. Let’s find Lithia and Zane.”
Professor Oberon followed close behind, somber. Brian saw a pocket of Ficarans and joined them to see what he could do.
Suddenly, Bel let go of Dione’s hand and rushed forward. Zane. His arm was in sling, but he wrapped Bel in an embrace, his good hand pressing the back of her head against his chest. He kissed her forehead, then just held her. Bel was crying into his shoulder. She deserved a piece of happiness and comfort after everything. Dione smiled and nodded at Zane. He nodded back, and Dione turned away. She would give them privacy.
“Lithia!” Professor Oberon said.
Lithia hurried toward them and hugged Dione.
“Are you okay?” Dione asked.
“I’m alive.”
“What about Melanie and Cora?”
“Cora’s physically okay. Melanie has some cuts and bruises. Evy’s fine, too.”
Dione gave her a puzzled look. “Wasn’t she in the Temple?”
“Evy made her way onto the battlefield. We sent her to hide, and we finally found her after the battle.”
“Holy crap” was all Dione could think to say.
“I still can’t believe we survived,” Lithia said. “They had us surrounded, but then their ship exploded and they lost it.”
“Why did they retreat?” Bel asked. It was a good question. Retreat was not a very Ven thing to do.
“After the ship blew up, they were dazed. We took advantage of that, and they didn’t really recover. The remnants ran off.”
Professor Oberon broke in before Dione could even reach the conclusion she was heading for. “The implants also work as short-range communication. Just as the Calypso manages our manumed channels, their ship must serve a similar function. When Sam destroyed it, their communications were cut off. The Vens must heavily rely on that communication in battle.”
“But why flee?” Bel wasn’t going to let it go.
“I don’t know, but we can figure it out later,” Professor Oberon said.
Dione looked around at the devastation. “Do you know where Cora is?” she asked.
“No, Jai took her to get cleaned up.”
“Jai?” Dione said.
“He’s the guy she got matched with. Why?” Lithia asked. Dione could detect the worry in Lithia’s voice.
“The Green Cloaks, well, one of them, killed Michael.” Dione explained how it had happened. How she had been too far away to do anything. How Michael had no idea what to expect.
“I… I’ll try and find her,” Lithia said. “Someone needs to break the news gently.”
Dione didn’t like the tremor in her friend’s voice. “You should get some rest.”
“No,” Lithia said. “I need to tell her. She deserves to hear what happened before some rumor reaches her first.” With that, she headed toward the Temple. Dione considered following, but she got the feeling Lithia just wanted to be left alone for a while.
Dione didn’t know what else to do. She saw some weary Aratians struggling to move a body. She rushed in to help, and the professor, Zane, and Bel followed. They took the stretcher, Zane using his good arm, and followed the Aratians to the square.
The square, a day ago filled with people to witness the Matching, was filled again, this time with the dead. Seeing the bodies laid out was nothing like hearing a number of casualties. It was a grave visual of Ven destruction.
In that moment, Dione felt a kind of hatred well up inside her unlike anything she had felt before. It was the kind of hatred that stopped her from thinking clearly. It was the kind of hatred that needed no justification. It was the kind of hatred that Bel must have felt every single day since her family was killed. Bel was right. There was nothing about Vens that was worth preserving. Every single Ven needed to die.
41. CORA
Cora had dreamed about her father. Not the body that the cavalry had returned to her for burial, but the man he had been when alive. Sometimes, as a girl, she had imagined him made of stone, carved and animated by the Farmer himself. It seemed like something a god might do, but she knew it wasn’t really the truth. As hard and unyielding as he often was, she loved him.
The flowers from the Matching had been brought out, even though they were wilting. There was no time to pick enough fresh flowers for all these bodies, and Cora thought it was fitting, anyway. Dying flowers for dead bodies.
She was not the only one walking the rows in the morning haze. She stopped at the center of the first row and stared at her father. She knelt and reached out her hand to his. He was cold to the touch, and it sent shivers down her spine.
“Goodbye.” She had already said everything to his ghost in her dream. She hoped she could still believe in ghosts, even if everything else she had believed in was a lie. She draped the bridal garland that she had worn during the Matching across him and onto the body next to his. Silent tears blurred her vision.
Will. The future she had envisioned for herself was truly gone now. Even when she had not been matched with him, she had never given up. She hadn’t wanted him to, but he had leapt between her and a Ven club, his pila blade not sturdy enough to stop the club’s momentum. One strike to the chest was all it had taken. Someone had cleaned away the blood and covered the wound, but she knew it was there.
She felt hollow. She had lost two pieces of herself yesterday, but she was not alone among the Aratians. Others had lost just as much. Or more.
She looked back across the rows of dead. In the back lay bodies too mangled to leave uncovered, so she had asked her aunt to find an appropriate cloth, one that could mask the blood. The Ficarans had taken their own, though there were fewer. Her heart ached for their sacrifice. Somehow yesterday’s hatred just didn’t mean as much today.
Every name had been recorded. Four hundred and fifty-one. So far. Some of the wounded were not expected to recover. She had plans for a memorial. She tried to imagine it: the names carved into polished stone, a statue keeping watch, but it all blurred into nothing. Before any of that, they would burn their dead. So many lives lost, all because of the Green Cloaks. They had sabotaged the flaminaria. They had let the Vens into the town.
The hole inside her was filling up with anger, and truthfully, it was the best she had felt all morning. It warmed her. She felt stronger. She no longer felt lost. She had a purpose. She would hunt down every last traitorous Green Cloak.
The edges around the viewing area were growing crowded. It was almost time. A small platform had been set up next to three unlit pyres. There were far too many bodies to be burned on the pyres themselves, so instead the cremations would take place in the crematorium inside the Temple. The pyres would stay lit to honor the dead. Cora stepped up on the dais and removed the amplifier from her pocket.
Her uncle figured it out almost immediately.
“Cora!” He rushed toward her, but Lithia, who had become an unexpected ally, stopped him. He had thought he was going to be the one to give this speech, but it was one only she could give. Whatever Lithia said to him worked, because he backed off. She would be allowed to speak.
When Cora looked out on the gathered crowd, her voice caught in her throat. They were broken, heads bowed and shoulders sagging. She would be the one to lift them back up. That was what her father would have done.
“Every person
who lies before us today is an Aratian hero,” she began. “Remember their faces. Remember their names. Keep their lives in your hearts the next time you walk through the forest, cook dinner, or tell a story to your child. Death may take our minds to the beyond, but survival takes our hearts.” Cora took a deep breath. “Those of you who fought in the battle may look down on your companions and wonder, why them? When I look on my father’s body, I wish I could switch places with him. Trade my life for his, and let him stand here and find the right words. The words that will comfort you and give you faith.”
Faith. Cora stumbled over the word. She was not ready to talk about that today, about how the Farmer was a liar. But she would, and soon.
“Today, we will mourn our dead. Everyone is welcome to take up watch at the pyres and bear witness to the transition of the dead. Spare a thought for the Ficarans who stood and fell alongside us. I once believed that the Ficarans were our enemies, but between the surviving demons and the Green Cloaks, it is now more important than ever to strengthen our alliance. We can have no peace while our true enemies are free.”
Cora nodded, and bundles of sweet-burning wood were carried to the pyres. She stepped off the platform to join her uncle in lighting the pyres. Benjamin looked tired, but he wasn’t crying like she was.
“He loved you, child,” he said. “And he was proud of you.”
Her tears flowed more freely now, as her guilt overtook her. He had died before she had gotten a chance to explain herself. He would never understand. Or maybe, in a way, he had. What would she do with the truth she now possessed? The knowledge that the Farmer was a fraud, and that everything they believed in was a lie? Would she keep to tradition for the sake of stability? There were things she would need to figure out in the coming days.
She pulled a small wooden ring from her pocket and examined its design one last time. A growling maximute. A symbol of the cavalry. She had bought it as a gift for her father in the market when she was ten, and he’d worn it until it no longer fit on any of his fingers. She tossed the token of her father on the pyre, then put her hand on the torch handle her uncle was holding. They lowered it together, igniting the kindling, setting the pyre ablaze. The pyres on either side caught fire, too, and the crowd began to sing.