Kingdom's Vice Series: Journey to Alleria ( #1 2014) #Wattys2015

Chapter Thirty-Six

A clash sounds as Uncle and Redermarke cross blades for the countless time. There are many clashes, but little consequence. No one has bled yet, or yielded for that matter. The only blood I see is on Uncle’s chest plate, from when Redermarke had sliced at him in a fury. I do not know how much more of this I can bear, for the sight of looming pain tightens the muscles around my heart.

The King narrowly misses another slice to the chest as Redermarke circles him, his sword steady in his grip. He shows no fear of the King, no fear of wielding a weapon, and lastly, no fear in facing an Allerian blade. He is truly the Master Swordsman’s apprentice. We both are. He swings his sword with a certain grace, not lacking in determination or swiftness. It seems so light in his grip, as weightless as a feather drifting in the calm wind. It is almost unnatural, the way the sword obeys his every command at a whisper. At this moment, I look to Duhamas.

Is there a way? I manage to ask him without moving my lips.

He catches sight of me and his face lights up, before a grave look furrows his brow. He shakes his head. I was counting on him being able to summon something, anything that can help us win this. But there is nothing. If we cheat, our word will be dishonourable and untrustworthy—two undesirable outcomes. If we do not do something to help the King win, we could lose and Redermarke will take everything for his own. Call me of little faith or hope, but I have seen Redermarke’s wrath before, in battles fought on ancient fields in days long gone. He does not fear death as other Meyn do, nor does he rely on the strength of wisdom words. He relies solely on his own strength and ability. That is why he trained under a man like the Master Swordsman. He had to learn from the best in order to be the best.

I close my eyes and search for Alec in my thoughts, where my memories of him are vivid, alive. I fear the worst has happened to him, for the tingle in my back has dulled to a small throbbing pain, but I cannot sense him anymore. I feel nothing, sense nothing. The bond is broken, the pearls must have left him. The sun pushes back as a dark shadows casts down on us, the figure of a winged horse dominating the sky. With a cry and a gasp, I look up with wet eyes.

It is him. He’s come back to me again. My heart pounds like a drum seeking a player, someone to put the rhythm back into the beat. I run back towards the wall, to the stairs, but Gweyntarr blocks my path, an arrow ready to fly. How did she get down so fast to stop me?

‘One step, and you’re dead.’ She snaps, her eyes fixed on me. ‘Back away.’

I extend a hand in an effort to reason, ‘Please, Gweyntarr. Alec...’

The looks up and the shadow dances over her eyes. She pulls up her bow and aims it at Faranel. I know what she intends. As she pulls back the bow, I rush forward and tackle her, pushing her up against the wall, knocking the bow out of her hands, the arrow spiralling to the sand. She scratches at my eyes and I throw up a hand to shield myself, while Duhamas restrains her roughly. I leave both of them and stumble up the stairs, tripping over my dress as I do. I hear Ivorian soldiers yelling out to Redermarke, with an urgency in their voices.

‘My Lord,’ one calls out, ‘What is the King’s command?’

Redermarke is too busy swiping at Xertormei’s flesh to answer. They do nothing but remain still and silent, their armour still glinting in the sunlight. I run as fast as I can towards the castle, where Faranel awaits. Faeore is there in an instant, pulling Alec’s limp body from the horse gently, but there is no way to be gentle with a corpse is there? I know it is a corpse when I see him. He’s been dead a while, by the look of it. Everything inside me shatters. A million pieces of everything are scattered now, and I’m left to pick them up and piece them back together, one by one. Cruel is the life we are dealt; crueller are the events that occur between the beginning and the end. This moment marks the cruellest.

My eyes fall on his face first, his closed eyes. How peaceful he looks. I do not see the pain on his face, just the blissful look of peace I never thought I would live to see again. I saw it a few times, but more often I saw a look of weariness and fear. I just wish I could see him in peace with him still living. Faeore brushes a strand of hair from his face and kneels beside him. She begins to chant something, ancient Allerian words. I fall to my knees beside her and weep, resting my head on his chest. There is no rise or fall, no heartbeat to be in harmony with. There is nothing. That is the saddest part about it. There is nothing when it used to be everything.

Faeore looks to me, her eyes wet with tears. She shakes her head, ‘I’m so sorry,’ she wheezes, her voice breaking as she speaks, ‘We are too late.’

Everything falls away. Nothing else matters now. I am trapped in this moment for what feels like forever, as the words ‘We are too late’ echo over and over in my mind, the words mingling into a single, unbelievable truth. I refuse it, deny it, throw it away from me.                 It cannot be. It shall not be.

I will not be alone all my days, seeking a heart to hold and a life to preserve for the sake of love. I will not face an immortal life without him, for a life without him is a life not worth living.

‘No,’ I breathe, desperate. My eyes plead with her, ‘There has to be something we can do for him, Faeore.’

She shakes her head, still weeping. ‘There is nothing we can do. He has been dead too long. His spirit is long gone, Skaya. I’m sorry.’

And then a pair of arms encase me. I turn around and see Duhamas beside me, a gash buried in the side of his face. No doubt Gweyntarr struck him once or twice in an effort to get him away. He looks pained at the sight of Alec’s body. He lowers his eyes and bows his head for a moment, before meeting my eyes.

‘Skaya, I...’

Don’t say it. Please.

I choke on my pleas as the salt of my tears dries out my mouth, my words.

‘There is nothing we can do for him now,’ he tells me, same as Faeore. They use the same tone: a calm, yet knowing tone.

I frown and open my mouth to ask, but he beats me to it.

‘But there is something you can do,’ he says, touching my cheek with the back of his hand. ‘You can save him, Skaya. Only you.’

A weight falls on me again, heavier this time. So much heavier.

‘What?’ I breathe, trying to suck in all the air I can. ‘How? I can’t—I’m not...I don’t.’

He hushes me and pulls me into his arms. ‘Listen to me, Skaya. You can save him. Your mother, she was Healer. She healed the sick and the dying when she was here, I know the tales the old folk tell. Your mother was one of the greatest Healers in Alleria.’ His eyes burn into mine. His faith in me is strong, I note, but misdirected? ‘Her blood courses through your veins, Skaya. You can do this. You have a connection with him that no-one else has. He needs you.’

This is too much. The sky seems to come crashing down on us all, the clouds heavy and drooping in a sad shade of grey, the sun far away and hidden from sight. My trembling fingers touch Alec’s cheek and I break down. My chin gives up and begins to convulse under the weight of my emotions, as they take over. I imagine his eyes flying open, his arms seeking mine, his hands wanting to interlock with mine, too. But dead men don’t rise, do they? Is it possible to heal one who is already gone?

‘I will not let them take you,’ I hiss through my teeth, taking Alec’s hand in mine. ‘I will not let them take you from me! Don’t go. If you leave, I cannot follow you there. Come back to me.’ I pause and calm my breaths. ‘You promised me you would come back. You promised me.’

Duhamas’s hand presses against my back. ‘There are ancient words that the women sing when the dead return to Allerian soil. Perhaps Faeore can...’

Faeore touches his arm and shakes her head. ‘The words have been sung, to no avail.’ She tells him, her eyes lingering on Alec’s body.

‘Mae cardarch e lai e-ho.’ I croak out, my lips finding their way to his. It is the last kiss, the last one I will ever bestow upon one whom I love. I stroke his cheek once more when I pull away to examine his face and my heart drops again. I feel light headed as the clouds descend again and I feel myself falling.

Arms seize me and cradle me close to something warm; another body. My eyes catch one last glimpse of Alec before all else fades to black.