Empire of Ashes

Chapter XLVIII - Red Hands

Whaaaaat? More snow? What witchcraft is this?

In other news, I have just decided how the book is going to end. So um like sorry in advance and whatever. I know a few people were distressed by the LOR ending, and that wasn't even that bad... I only killed one person...

Dalni was heavy. Dragging his body to the edge was difficult. Lifting one side to tip him onto the slope had me gasping for breath. Yet he bounced down the rocks like a ragdoll — limp and broken and weightless.

I clambered down the scree, following the body. Every few paces, it would catch on the rocks, and I would roll it free until it had fallen far enough to be believable. Then I unhooked the keys from his belt, tucked them in the waistband of my breeches, and loosened his belt buckle and the laces of his trousers. I pulled other things free, too — a money pouch, cigars and his eating knife — scattering them so they could assume the keys were lost among the rocks, not stolen.

And then I looked at his body. Clean shaven, dark-haired, hazel-eyed. The girls from my village would have clawed each other to pieces for a chance at marrying a young man like him. And now, because he happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, he wouldn't marry at all. He wouldn't grow a beard. He wouldn't see his homeland or his family again.

It bothered me in a way that none of my previous kills had. We had no quarrel and so much in common, and yet he was wearing my enemies' uniform. Anglia had set us against each other, and I had taken the bait.

But it had been a choice between him and Emri, and I knew I had picked right. Maybe Dalni had a little sister. Maybe he would have understood. And if not, who was there to care besides the worms in the ground? He wouldn't be complaining to anyone else.

I climbed back up to the ledge. I needed a way to signal to Anlai, and while I considered the options, I untied the upper laces of my shirt and my breeches, made a mess of my hair, and chewed on my lips until they felt swollen. I scuffed up the blankets with a heel.

I tossed one of the ale bottles down the scree and watched it smash itself to pieces. The details were important. The details would decide whether I was a hunted fugitive within the hour or whether I had a night to roam the camp unhindered. I weighed the other bottle in my hands as I thought. I should pour it away, really, but alcohol burned so well — it seemed a shame to waste it.

So I went back down the slope to snatch the soldier's strike fire. I tore another strip from the bottom of my shirt and tied it around the bloodied rock, which I was still clutching, somehow. Most of it was doused in the remaining ale, leaving a tail for me to hold. Then I rested the flint against the whole thing and struck it. Dalni stared through empty, accusing eyes while I fumbled. It took a score of tries to get a spark, but that was all I needed.

The whole thing went up in one big whoosh, and I used the fabric tail to toss it high in the air before I scorched my fingertips. The burning rock flew a long, high arc before falling somewhere in the wasteland between the hills. To the sentries, it might look like drunken soldiers messing around, if they were even looking. To the northerners behind the palisade, it might look like a desperate attempt to get their attention.

I hope you're watching, Anlai.

Somehow, I doubted anyone would find it or think much of a single charred rock. Nobody would know that it had ended a life. The soldiers would likely crush it into the ground beneath their heels, because rocks were almost as insignificant as slaves within the walls of Canton.

Finally, I had done all I could bear, so I picked my way back up the ledge and dropped the empty bottle. There was a fresh loaf in the basket of food which quickly found its way into my stomach. I tore chunks away and scoffed them as I walked. The hunger in my belly began to settle, and my nerves with it.