The Sprinter

Chapter 33

Ronan opened his eyes, slowly, and lowered his arms from their shielding position in front of his face. The light from Eloise’s Ceding had faded into the world - all that was left now was the brightness of the sun. The yenaki had vanished, and taken their master with them. They were less than dust on the wind. They were just - gone. As if they’d walked away. Eloise too.

He looked around. Salene was on her knees, weeping softly into her hands. She’d found some sort of kinship with the girl, Ronan understood. Beside him, Arothena leant against her post, staring blankly at the space where Eloise had been standing. He walked over to her, slipping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her face into his chest. She let him hold her.

Ronan stared over her shoulder, to where Eloise had been just seconds ago. The King had been right. She had run her entire life, and she had grown sick of it. She had wanted to fight, and to fight for the only people who’d ever shown her kindness.

Arothena stepped away from him, pulling out of his embrace, and he turned to see if Salene was alright. She stood up, and walked over to join them. They stood in a line, watching the space where Eloise had disappeared, as if she might somehow reappear there. They stared for a full minute, standing by each other’s sides in complete silence, before Salene began to move, walking towards the steps.

“Where are you going?” Arothena’s clipped words followed Salene, who stopped halfway across the platform and replied, without looking back,
“To find our supplies. Staying here isn’t going to help.”

Arothena looked lost. She nodded to Salene, who continued to walk away, towards the steps.

“Don’t bother,” Ronan called after her. Salene turned around this time, letting them see her tear streaked face, “I saw a merchant rifle through the bags once the yenaki took them. There won’t be anything left.”

Salene sighed, and walked heavily back to the group. They stood in silence again. There was nothing to say.

As they stood, the general noise of the city began to float up to him - merchants shouting their wares, children playing and screaming, adults chatting and exchanging news. All normal, all oblivious. They weren’t hurt - and they had no knowledge of what had happened. No knowledge that their King was now dead, and dead without a body, weapon or murderer left behind.

Ronan stared down at the city below them. He watched the weaving of heads in and out of stalls at the Trader’s Palace. He watched people leave and enter their houses, and wander in and out of the slum district aimlessly. His Rellae eyes picked up details too far away and too small for those of humans. He nudged Arothena with his elbow.

They’re safe. They know nothing.

She nodded back.

Ronan looked further, to the edge of the city, the edge of the country. Forest land stretched as far as the eye could see - even his eyes. He saw in his head the line where the border would run - the border separating Men and Rellae. As he looked closer, he realised the line wasn’t only in his head. It had been marked. With flags.

He placed a hand on Salene’s back, steering her around, and turned to Arothena.

“We have to go.”

The urgency in his voice made her brows furrow in question. He placed a hand on her shoulder, and began to urge her away, to leave via the back of the platform. She let him lead her, but continued to look at him with confusion.

“We have to go now,” he repeated, marching them forward, away from the city. Because those flags - they were not normal flags. They were banners. Banners of War.

Banners of War erected along the border of Yuhnig could mean only one thing. It had happened.

The Man-Rellae war had begun.

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