Holt spent the rest of the night helping to mop up the bugs and ghouls scattered across the city. They relieved the barracks and strongholds on the central ring first, where civilians were held up. Without a guiding presence, the scourge became manageable. Numerous and vicious they still were but lacking in that single-minded purpose which had driven them forward without caution. They could be cornered and killed.
Many more of the ghouls and bugs fled entirely, scattering east and west. They would have to be hunted down in time. Yet the rising dawn marked the end of the incursion of Feorlen.
Holt and Ash found themselves in the palace grounds, helping to find the injured and carry them off the battlefield for treatment. As the morning light caressed Holt’s face, he spotted the Twinblades walking silently. Between them they carried a stretcher with a blue hawk banner draped over the body.
Admiration stirred in Holt despite his feelings toward the late Master of War. Harroway might have made mistakes, he might have been duped, he might have thrown Holt in jail given half a chance, but deeds spoke volumes. Harroway had been a true defender of Feorlen through and through. Until his dying breath.
Ash had wandered to sit before Clesh’s body. Still as a statue, he just gazed at the fallen dragon.
Holt caught up to him. “You really did have me going for a moment up there.”
Ash continued sitting in silence.
“Clesh must have always had a darkness in him.”
“I have no memories of such wickedness. These experiences locked in my blood, the knowledge of my ancestors, none of it contains treachery.”
“Maybe not everything is passed on,” Holt said. “Maybe not everything is remembered.”
“They ought to be,” Ash said.
The West Warden reached out to them then. “Younglings, the honorable Life Elder requests your presence on the west bank.”
Holt blinked. They should probably find Talia and Pyra and go together.
This was surely about Brode. Talia would want to be there.
“I shall find Talia first,” Holt said.
“No,” said the Warden. “Only you and the lunar hatchling.” “Honored Warden, I think she has a right to—”
“You and Ash. Now.”
Holt thought it best not to question or delay. Talia would have troubles enough at the moment. Perhaps the Elder would summon her later.
And so, Holt and Ash made for the west bank. They could still sense- share with a frayed bond – it wasn’t broken, after all – but the sensations were blurred, more confusing than helpful and caused them a headache. Thankfully, the flight was short and easy enough without stingers to contend with. When they landed upon the west bank both boy and dragon groaned from relief.
Once Holt’s senses righted themselves, he looked upon the Life Elder and let out an awed breath. He seemed even larger down at ground level. His scales rippled like a meadow under the morning sun, his eyes shone like spring condensed into two bright wells. The flares and ridges across his back were dark as pine needles.
“Thank you for coming,” said the Life Elder. “Ash, son of night, know you are free to walk among my flight. I have ordered they treat you with the respect of any emerald.”
Ash padded forward and bowed his neck to the ground at once. Holt hastened to follow, getting down on one knee.
“Rise, young ones. It is I who ought to bow.”
The West Warden snorted at that.
“I do not jest,” said the Elder. And he bent his legs, and bowed his massive neck, bringing his great snout down to touch the grass. Obediently, the other emeralds present, including the Warden, bowed in turn.
Holt gulped. Ash shifted uneasily.
“Honored Elder,” Holt began, his throat dry, “it was your strength and that of your flight that won the night. Ash and I do not seek praise, only word of our tutor whose body was sent to you.”
“The man with the wearied song,” said the Elder. “Brode, rider of Erdra who was of my kin.”
“You know his name and his dragon?”
“There is much in a song, for those who understand the notes.”
Holt swallowed hard. He wasn’t sure if he was missing something or whether the Life Elder spoke symbolically. “Honored Elder, forgive me but I do not understand. Master Brode was a human. He could not have had a song as a dragon does.”
“You have souls, do you not?”
Holt nodded. The fact it was his soul that bonded to Ash was proof of that.
“All souls sing a song, though human songs are faint. Most of my kind cannot hear them. Yet while a blackbird’s song is unheard from afar, still it sings.”
“Yes, honored Elder,” Holt said, unsure if he fully understood the Elder’s meaning. “Will you tell us what happened to Brode? Rake sent him to you with the wish that he be healed.”
The West Warden growled lowly.
“Members of my flight believe Rake showed great disrespect with such a request.”
Holt struggled to think of a response, but Ash stepped in for him.
“Master Rake only hoped to save his life. He gave up great reward for himself to do so.”
The Life Elder made a deep rumble in his throat. “Rake is a troubled one. He is not known to be charitable. I found his request… curious.”
Fresh bursts of green light spun before the Elder’s snout and the giant leaves that had wrapped Brode’s body appeared, then gently floated to the ground.
Holt dashed to the leaves, knelt by them. He grasped the edge of a leaf, was about to peel it back then stopped. It had been hard enough seeing Brode pass the first time. Even worse to cradle his father’s sunken, lifeless face. He did not think he had the strength to do it again.
His throat had gone bone dry. “Will you honor Rake’s request?”
Somehow, he knew the answer already.
“Only one force in this world deals in raising the dead.”
Holt sniffed. “So, Rake wasted his favor after all…”
Ash placed the tip of his snout on the leaves and made a low, pining noise.
The Life Elder rumbled again. “Rake can be slippery, but he has a mind sharp as thorns and I believe his true intention in sending Brode to me was something else entirely.”
“What was that, honored Elder?” Ash asked.
“To wake me from my slumber.”
As the Elder spoke, the leaves covering Brode pulled back of their own accord, revealing his weathered old face. He might have been sleeping.
“When at first my Warden presented Brode’s body to me, I almost dismissed him and Rake altogether. A human? What disrespect was this? And then I heard such sad notes; such melancholy tinged with love and defiance I had not heard since the first trees shed their leaves. Since the Pact, I never wished to have dealings with humans again. I have been wrong. For so many long years, as have my brothers and sisters. Isolated and wrong.”
Holt sniffed again, rubbed at his eyes and wiped his nose. When had he last slept?
“I just hoped…” he trailed off. What good would words do now?
“I understand, child. I wish so much could be undone. From this day forth, I shall no longer act like such a craven and fool.”
Holt didn’t understand. “Your Warden told us that you and your flight have been fighting back the blight. None would consider that cowardly.”
“Generations upon generations of toil, and only now do I see we have been working blind. Humans can be so much more than what we believed. And you, Ash, you are the greatest proof of our folly. So much faith has been placed in strength – the influence of my fiery brother on us all.”
“Deep roots do not shake, honored Elder,” Ash said.
The Life Elder rumbled with pleasure. “Indeed, they do not, young one. Were it that the next hatchings were sooner, you might have begun a Flight of your own. How many more powers might we awaken if we weren’t so exacting in which eggs hatch.”
“Holt is my flight,” Ash said. “My brother, my friend.”
“My Warden also spoke of the purity of your bond. May I feel it for myself?”
Holt blinked. No one had ever asked permission before inspecting his soul and bond with Ash. The sheer politeness of it knocked him off balance. Truly, this mighty dragon was making a great attempt to redeem himself for something.
“You may, Honored Elder.”
The Elder hummed in satisfaction. Holt felt a magical presence inspect his soul; he would have had all the power to push against it as an infant pushing against their father’s hand, yet the presence was just as tender as a father might be.
“Your songs are woven,” the Elder crooned, “but so quiet… ah, you are weary from the battle. Rest young ones. We shall speak again when you are fit once more.”
The Elder raised his head. All other emeralds mirrored his movements.
“My flight shall begin healing what we can of this land. Take what time you need. I shall await you here on the bank.”
Holt glanced to Ash. The dragon nosed Brode’s body affectionately. Why were the two of them so special to this Elder? It wasn’t just for Ash’s magic.
“We will be grateful to rest,” Holt said. “Though I do not know in what way Ash and I can be of service to one of your power.”
“Rest assured that you can. I would know everything of your time together.”
“Yes, Honored Elder. And we would ask for your wisdom in turn if you’ll give it. About the scourge and about the dragon controlling it.”
The emeralds became restless again. Holt feared he had unwittingly struck a nerve.
“Do you know of this dragon’s name?”
“His followers call him Sovereign.”
The Elder’s enchanting eyes dimmed, the irises rotating through a season of change. At last he seemed to decide upon something.
“Rest child. I swear that all I know, I shall tell.”
Holt bowed again, as did Ash.
“May we take Brode’s body with us? He should… he should be buried.”
“Of course,” said the Elder. The preserving leaves unwound themselves from Brode, leaving him lying on the trampled grass as though sleeping.
Holt picked him up and was taken aback at how light and frail the old rider seemed now. If only Rake had arrived minutes sooner, if only Clesh had not fallen to evil to begin with, if only so many things had gone differently.
Talia
She watched Ash return to the palace grounds as if in slow motion. He delicately placed a body on the ground before landing. She moved mechanically toward the pair of them, knowing what she’d find. But knowing didn’t help prepare her.
Perhaps the exhaustion, and all the horrors of the recent days were to blame, but she hadn’t realized just how much she cared for Master Brode until she saw him again. That flicker of hope that he might return had been just that.
Rake had failed. Maybe Holt would be less enamored with him now.
She knelt at Brode’s side and bent low to his ear. “I got him back,” she whispered fiercely. “Silas. I got him. And Holt and Ash got Clesh.”
“We should bury him,” Holt said.
Talia shook her head. “He wanted to be with Erdra.”
“On a forsaken hill along the road east of Athra,” Holt said, recalling Brode’s words on where he had been forced to leave Erdra’s ashes. “We can’t take his body there… we don’t even know where exactly—”
“We’ll cremate him. Pyra will see to it. We can take the ashes and find
it.”
“Oh,” Holt said, as though with great effort. “Good idea.” “You’re tired.”
“Aren’t you?”
“Think I’m past the point of noticing.” She got up, looked him up and
down. “Where were you?”
“The Life Elder wished to see us.” “What did he want?”
Holt shrugged. “Just to see us, I think. We’re an oddity.”
“Hm,” she mused. It made sense enough. They were the ones with the special powers to counter the blight. Still, what she wouldn’t have given for an audience with such a being.
“Talia,” Holt began hesitantly, “about what I said before the battle—” “It’s fine,” she said sharply. It wasn’t but she did not have the strength
to revisit the topic. Worst of all, Holt had been wrong. It was worse than he claimed. He had accused her of not caring enough, but the real problem was she cared far too much. Hiding that fact made Holt think she was cold- hearted, that duty was all she lived for. If only that were the case. If only things were that easy.
To abandon Feorlen now would be as difficult as not flying to her father’s aid.
Holt didn’t look convinced by her evasion. “You’re sure?”
“Yes,” she repeated, then tried to change the topic. “I’ll take Brode to the palace crypts – you go rest. Use the royal apartments.”
“I left my things in a room in the servants annex,” Holt said, not quite meeting her eye. “Behind the kitchens. I’ll be more comfortable there. Closer to Ash too.”
“Of course,” Talia said. She gripped the bridge of her nose and shut her eyes against a flare of head pain. Sleep would absolutely be required after taking Brode somewhere where he could lie in peace. The accursed court could surely keep it together for a while. Although with Harroway dead—
“We’ll talk later then,” said Holt.
This snapped her back to the moment. “Yes, later,” she said. She watched him go, painfully aware that things between them had become awkward again, as though the barriers they had broken down on their journey had been erected and reinforced.
Maybe she ought to have let him speak just now. Shutting him down had been as harsh as what he’d said to her. Nothing would be resolved without them speaking properly again, whatever path she decided to take.
She was just so tired now.
Talia took a moment before gathering herself for one final task. Then, carrying one of her mentors between her arms, she made her way across the grounds, counting the bows and salutes she received along the way. Somehow, she didn’t think it was due to rider respect alone.
Already they had decided for her. When nothing else was left, she was their one tie to the world as they knew it. They clung to it. Already, the
choice before her made her wish to return to the battle of the night before. It had been easier to face.
