The War God's Wife

Chapter 14: Life's Worth

I withdrew my dagger from Jonathan's skull with a wet squelch. A geyser of blood jetted out before turning into only a dribble. A dark puddle began to stain the earth. I shook my head, my ears still ringing with the pins-and-needles noise. The world pitched a little, and I stumbled off the corpse, catching myself before I could fall over completely. I squeezed my eyes shut to try and find my own equilibrium. Rain started to fall.

The stench of iron filled my nose.

Something slammed into me, knocking the wind out of me and bowling me head-over-heels. I came to a halt on my back, gasping for air. Blows rained down on my head and chest. Though they were weak and not painful, I tried to swat them away through squinting eyes. At last, I was able to grab the wrists of my attacker, and I forced my eyes open.

Calli straddled my chest, sobbing hysterically while still trying to pummel me. My stomach dropped at the sight: curls flying wildly, tears cutting wet paths down red cheeks, eyes shut and already starting to swell.

"How could you?!" she was screaming through the sobs. "How could you just kill him? He was done! He could've surrendered! Why?! Why?!!" Her words flayed my heart, making my chest feel aching and hollow. Was this what love did to mortals? I hated it.

"Cal . . . ," I choked out, but my voice only seemed to irritate her more. She bucked more wildly, yanked more powerfully, and screamed all the louder. The rain was falling more steadily, drenching us all. I couldn't hold on any tighter without hurting her. Her hands slipped from my fingers, and she immediately resumed punching me, even though they did no harm.

"I hate you!" she sobbed. "You killed my friend; I hate you!!" Arms reached out and caught her. She flailed for a minute, but Lyterias refused to let her go. Moments dripped by, and she lost more and more energy. After a minute longer, he let her go to collapse into a wet, sobbing ball sitting on my chest. Hesitantly, I gathered her into my own arms, hugging her. She pushed against my chest.

"I hate you," she moaned through her tears.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, stroking her damp hair. "It was to the death. I'm sorry." She struggled weakly in my arms, but I shushed her and stroked her hair. Taking my focus from her, I took a chance to look around at the villagers. Some, particularly the elders, had surrounded Jonathan, examining his body. Several were pale, even green. I doubted more than a couple of them even remembered sights like this. If my memory was right, the last war for these people was a couple generations ago, more than twenty years before. These folk had seen only peace, except for the occasional band of robbers. Until today. The white-haired man swallowed hard.

"This duel is over," he said hoarsely. "The winner is Chance." I looked down at Jonathan's unseeing eyes, and bile flooded my mouth. I won nothing today. The white-haired man turned to a couple, both wearing the same dark green with a gold heraldry.

"I trust you have . . . arrangements for him?" he asked gently. The woman nodded while her lip trembled, her eyes glittering with tears. His parents. I killed him in front of his parents, by wind and rain. I felt sick. I moved Calli off me and rose. All eyes snapped to me. His father's filled with anger, but I ignored him.

"To this brave, departed soul," I shouted, "we salute! May he find peace in the lands of the dead and glory bought with his blade! Salute!!" I stabbed my dagger into the air. There was a quiet echo, and I heard several swords be drawn and lifted into the air like mine, as if directing Jonathan's soul to the sky. It was an old prayer, one that I had heard many times over the warrior-dead. It was a way for soldier's of all walks to honor those who laid down their lives honorably. For one who died in a duel, it was the most honorable thing I could do as his opponent. As his killer. Squashing that thought, I looked back into his father's eyes. They were now peaceful and wet.