The Rider's Legacy

Chapter 9 | Brylahaen.

Chapter 9 | Brylahaen

Zephyr was propped up on his elbow, leaning over me. Lazily, he traced a finger along the knotted scar along my abdomen. He had taken the time to track and map new wounds and scars, returning to this one again and again as if it was a new valley that had been marked upon the land of my skin. The scar that had come from Amon tearing through armour and skin.

It amused me in some dark and morbid way that the demon had never been able to get control of me unless I was tied down or subdued. I liked knowing that in the end, he got to experience what I was. The woman I could be when given the chance to face him on more equal grounds. He had lived underestimating me and I had died realizing that he was wrong, his torn throat in my hands.

I didn't really know where Zephyr and I were. We had been on the stairs one minute, then up onto the first floor and into a dark room where an ottoman sat with gilded clawed feet. Then, we had come to rest on the carpet. A plush thing that ticked my skin. Zephyr had distracted me, hands on my skin, lips on mine. But as our breath settled, I was aware of the dust. Aware of the dust and I could imagine what lay on this dust or what had walked along the carpet all these years. Disease lingering on the feet of the rats? Disease now that had transferred to my skin and if my hands moved towards my mouth, would I...?

"He has given you more scars."

"And I tore out his throat." I blinked, focusing on him.

His touch was ticklish on my skin. "I wish I had been there to see that."

"I don't think I'd want you to see me like that."

His gaze flickered over me. "I would want to see you in all ways I could. Amon haunted you for too long. I'm glad you got your retribution."

I lay down against the old carpet, staring up at the bumpy ceiling. My hand rested on my stomach; my skin raised by goosebumps. "He's dead, but I don't think he'll ever leave my mind. Maybe when we're older, he won't be so bright."

"You will have the years to create memories that he cannot take from you. Memories, fresh and beautiful and bright." Zephyr's fingers edged along my collarbone. "You will win again and again."

"That sounds tiring."

"Because our lives have been dark, and Acheron hangs over us." Zephyr hesitated, a flicker of vulnerability crossing the harsh lines of his face. "There will come a time again Neely, where you'll have to make a choice. To save us all. I know it."

"There won't be..." I soothed.

"There will." He was resolute. "You made the choice in Naughton, then again in Ithrall. I - I understand that you want to protect us and that you can help us in ways that we cannot. I just ...I cannot take it if you leave again."

Guilt sat heavy on my heart. "I'll try my best."

He leaned down, kissing me softly. "That's all I can ask."

>< >< ><

The people cheered when they reached the gates of Brylahean.

It was a cry of deep relief. One that rippled back through the convoy to those who trailed at the very back. The dragons crowed in the skies above, shooting great plumes of fire into the frigid air. Nethore stood on the great walls of Brylahean, thick claws curling on the walls. He balanced there, his keen eyes watching the procession that snaked into the city. Some would not reach the city until night had fallen, but the mood was jubilant.

The people of Ithrall had suffered. They had fled their homes, left all behind them and entrusted their survival to Riders who were little more than hatchlings.