Smoke rose from the funeral pyre.
Rurik Kaster stood over his brother's wrapped body. His soul—his spark of life—was gone. He had urged Aamin to stay home. He was too young, still more a boy than a man, but Aamin wanted to be a warrior, always wanting to be like his big brother.
The fire bit at the perfumed corpse. The herbs used to keep the body fresh filled the air with the sweet scent of lavender. The boy never smelt that good when he was alive. Tears streaked down Rurik's cheeks.
Is this my fault? Could I have done something differently to save you?
"My brother," Rurik knelt down before the fire, "Rest easy. Wherever you are now is surely better than this cursed island—with its warring tribes and stubborn emperor. Maybe you are finally enjoying the company of a beautiful woman." Rurik laughed to himself, barely a chuckle, one that was full of sadness.
"It was just you and me for the last couple of years, but you had grown so much in character and strength in that time. Mother and father would have been proud of the man you became—I am proud of the man you became. I love you, little brother." Rurik took his knife from his belt and slashed his palm open. He dropped nineteen drops of blood into the fire—one drop for each year of life.
He stood up and took a couple steps back. He didn't bother to wrap his hand; he wanted the physical pain to linger as long as possible. He would surely never lose the pain in his heart.
Before being done with his thoughts, Sergeant Linket came walking over. "Gather the soldiers. We're escorting the General to Hillsford."
The pompous fool sauntered off without even mentioning Rurik's brother, whose body burned ten feet in front of him.
"Ass," Rurik mumbled under his breath.
He took a necklace out from under his tunic and kissed the newest pendant on the chain. It was a flattened disc of gold with the Kaster family crest on it. A design his father had made, and a tradition he wanted to continue when he had children of his own. The necklace carried his own charm, his father's and mother's, and now his brother's. He reverently tucked it away and turned to gather his other brothers—his brothers of the sword—the men he fought alongside, day in and day out.
This was just the start of the war. What loss will I feel by the end?
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Fate of an Empire (Book One)
Fantasy"You will know darkness. You will see it... feel it... You will breathe it in; the evil that is to come. It is my duty to show you, and it is your fate to learn from it." Rurik Kaster is a veteran soldier and a blood-tested, war-hardened champion f...
