Soul Fire

Soul Fire - Chapter 34

"It was a good fight, yet far too brief."

Gergan's thunderous voice shook those assembled from their trance.

"You and your men fought well, Gergan. You have our thanks and the gratitude of the people of this valley."

Malithas moved to clasp Gergan's hand with his own, though wisdom brought his hand up short. His gauntlet was only made of hardened steel, after all.

"I'd rather have their food."

Gergan's raising and lowering of his eyebrows coaxed laughter from both Asillians and Erynyans. Many promises were made by the men of Erynya, that Gergan's plate would never be empty while he remained in their lands. 

Dathion and Shanisha considered each other, the former lost for words, while the latter waited patiently for his response. Most of those present still watched the two of them, leaving a frozen circle of observers surrounding them.

Away from the prince of Asillia, the dead were already being remembered and buried by others, with the fallen wolves of the Cerds spared the same respect and rites as the giant men who led them. At least one lost Swiftrider was known to both Malithas and Salidon, his skill considerable, proof that sometimes only luck enabled a soldier to prevail. Riderless horses were grouped and calmed by the whisperers, their ancient arts keeping the horses at peace, in the presence of wolves that paced and bayed the losses from their packs.

Of their foes, only the twisted marriages of man and wolf - as well as the men who willingly fought with them - had fallen. No sign could be found of the men with the twisting runic tattoos, or the man formed of shadows and darkness who had led them. Of the latter, only Dathion could remember his presence, and the discomfort of laying eyes upon his shifting form. Realizing that everyone still waited for his answer, Dathion only managed two words for Shanisha.

"I accept."

Shanisha's resulting smile washed the pain from Dathion - putting a brief end to the horrors of battle.

"From our monastery in the mountains we searched, the four of us who can be named Soul Wardens. We scoured the lands in the weeks of your passing, once portents regarding you reached the dreams of our Grand Master. The first of us to find you was fated to be your guardian. It is my eternal honor to have been guided to you, by my chance encounter with the Cerds - who share our mountain home. I thank you for giving my life the purpose which it may otherwise have never known."

Shanisha held one hand open and straight, balling the other into a fist to press against the palm. With this gesture, the monk bowed forward at the hips. Dathion attempted an answering bow from his saddle. When he did, he began to lose his balance, his head suddenly swimming. Jerodai cried out.

"You're hurt!"

Jerodai dropped from his saddle, moving to steady Dathion, the shafts of arrows and bloodstains visible from the side on which the son of Malithas stood. The other men quickly followed. Gergan reached Dathion in two strides lifting the boy from the back of Asheron, thengently lowering him to lay on the ground.

Salidon spoke.

"I have seen the arrows of our enemy. They are not barbed."

Salidon gave a sharp whistle and waved. Two Swiftriders dismounted to hurry to his side.

"Lend him your aid. The heir of Asillia lies at your feet."

The eyes of the men widened, before they removed a number of pouches from their belts and saddle bags - satchels laden with herbs. Salidon took a blanket from Jerodai's horse to wedge under Dathion's head, while Malithas dribbled water from a skin into his mouth. The Swiftriders gently removed his armor, cutting the feathered ends from the arrows, before carefully lifting his breastplate over the shafts. Gergan moved to take the armor, inspecting the breaches with a frown.