Lynn Flewelling - The White Road

Rieser knelt down beside him. “Thank Aura. I didn’t think it was possible.”

“Maybe you should feed him, too,” said Alec. “Your blood is pure.”

Rieser nodded and cut his finger, then fed Sebrahn as Alec held him.

Alec leaned against Seregil, not taking his eyes from Rieser and Sebrahn. “He saved us all.”

“Not all,” said Nowen, limping over to them, her sword arm bloody to the elbow.

“How many of us are left?” asked Rieser.

“Rane survived whatever those witches did with their cursed horns, but he’s weak. Taegil has an arrow through his thigh. Relian is weak but alive, thanks to Sebrahn, though he can’t talk. Allia and Morai are dead and Kalien is still missing.”

“So many!” Rieser murmured grimly.

“Sebrahn’s not strong enough to bring them back,” said Alec.

“That’s just as well,” said Rieser. “It might be a temptation if he were.”

Rhal came to join them, covered in blood and pressing a hand to a gash on his forearm.

“How many men did you lose?” asked Seregil.

“Not a man. There are some wounds, but nothing we need the rhekaro for. But we’d better get out of these woods. The fire’s spreading.”

The entire clearing was bathed in the shifting red light now, and smoke was drifting over them in a grey pall. The surface of the pool below the waterfall reflected the color of blood; Seregil suspected that it wasn’t just a trick of the light. The wind was to the west, blowing away from the trail, but that could change in an instant.

“Nowen, get the dead tied on their horses,” Rieser ordered.

“Is there time for that?” asked Rhal, and got a cold look from the Ebrados captain.

“Then my men will help,” Rhal told him.

Rieser looked surprised, but nodded.

Hâzadriën tended the wounded while the others dealt with the dead. Rieser saw to it that some of the bodies were doubled on one horse so that Alec could ride out with Sebrahn. Rane, Sorengil, and Taegil slumped in the saddle and had to be tied on, but Nowen and Rieser made a quick job of it.

Meanwhile, Seregil and Micum went to where Turmay and the other witches had fallen. They lay just inside the trees, dead eyes staring up at the night sky, and still gripping the oo’lus. Seregil pulled Turmay’s away and ran his hands over it. “It isn’t cracked.”

“He failed his destiny,” Micum said.

Seregil gave him a tilted grin. “So much for fate. I think I’ll take these with us. Thero and Magyana will find them of interest.”

They left the smoke and firelight behind, moving as quickly as Rhal’s men on foot could, their way lit now by the moon. They stopped only long enough to take up Kalien’s corpse, then hurried on to the edge of the forest.

There was no question of taking the dead home, or burning the bodies without the proper resins and oil. Instead, Rieser and Nowen cut locks of hair for the families, placed the hunting masks each fallen comrade had worn in life over their face, and sewed them into their cloaks. Hâzadriën joined them as they carried the bodies just inside the forest and buried them side by side in the soft loam while the rest sat on the ground and wept. Seregil and the others had offered their help, but Rieser simply shook his head. When they were through, Sorengil and Nowen built tall cairns on top of each grave, then joined with the others in a keening song of loss.

Seregil and the others watched from a respectful distance, then headed back to the night’s campsite.

“Do your people do that, Lord Seregil?” asked Rhal.

“Yes, but the songs are different. They’re guiding the khi to their next life.”

“Khi? Is that a soul?”

“Something like it, but not exactly.”

“You believe there’s something after this life, then?”

Seregil nodded. “I didn’t, most of my life, but an oracle showed me glimpses of my lives to come.”

“Really? And what were they like?”

Seregil gave him a wry smile. “I always have a weapon in my hand.”

They set about making the evening meal. Alec had been silent, and he looked thoughtful as he tended the rabbits and grouse spitted over the fire.

The moon was setting when Rieser and the remainder of his people returned to the camp.

“Come and eat,” Seregil said.

The wounded were healed enough to join them, and they all ate in silence out of respect for the dead.

“I don’t think we’ll be able to go back the way we came,” Rieser said at last. “There will be more Retha’noi, and they don’t count us as friends.”

“There are most likely plenty more of them back in the hills,” said Micum. “I’ve been thinking. It would make your journey home a good deal shorter if you sailed with us. It’s no time at all to cross to Nanta from here, and you can make your way back up the river from there. What do you say, Rhal?”

The captain looked over what was left of the Ebrados. “As long as they leave Lord Alec alone, I’ve no reason to deny them. What say you, Lord Seregil?”

“I think it’s a good idea.”

Rhal offered his hand to Rieser. “Will you clasp hands on it, sir?”

Rieser took it with a weary nod. “You have my thanks.”

Seregil exchanged a secret grin with Micum. Rieser’s opinion of Tírfaie seemed to have softened just a bit.

THE VOYAGE to Nanta took three days—three all-too-short days for Alec. He spent most of his time tending Sebrahn, and had him in the bed with them every night. Seregil made no complaint, but let him know with a silent nod that first night that he understood. They’d soon be saying farewell.

Alec grieved in silence; his decision back on the island seemed harder now that he was so close to losing the little rhekaro. Sebrahn wasn’t strong enough to walk yet, and Seregil kept the Hâzad away.

They reached Nanta in the morning, and the time to part forever came at last. Alec said his good-byes to Sebrahn in the privacy of their cabin, with only Seregil there to see.

Seated on the bed with the rhekaro on his lap, he stroked that pale hair for the last time and whispered, “This time it’s you leaving me.”

Sebrahn touched Alec’s cheek. “Leeeeving.”

“That’s right. But you’ll be with Hâzadriën, and other rhekaros. You’re happy with him, aren’t you?”

“Haaaaa-zen.”

“I’m sorry.” Alec was fighting back tears now. “I wish—I wish things were different but—I want you to be safe and—” Overcome, he hugged Sebrahn close, wondering what Rieser would do if he refused to give him up.

Seregil sat down and put an arm around him. “It’s time, Alec,” he said gently. “Do you want me to do it? Rieser’s just outside.”

Alec wiped the tears from his cheeks. “No. I will.” Rising, he carried Sebrahn across the room, committing the feel of those cool little arms around his neck to memory.

Hâzadriën and Rieser sat on the stairs outside, but rose when he came out.

“You’re ready?” asked Rieser.

“Yes.” It took all of Alec’s will to place Sebrahn in the tall rhekaro’s arms. “Take—take care of him for me. He trusts you.”

“I’ll see that they remain together,” Rieser promised.

And then there was nothing left to say. Unable to watch them climb the stairs, Alec turned and walked back into the cabin. Head down, he mumbled, “I need to be alone.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. Just for a while.”

“All right then.” Seregil paused and embraced him, and Alec knew how important it was for him not to pull away. Instead he hugged him back gratefully, then found he couldn’t let go.

Seregil stroked his hair. “I know, talí. I know. It’s all right.”