38.

  Faelwen

  Wen?

  …….

  Wen?

  ……

  Please, little one. Answer me.

  The world rushed back all at once. The feel of the mixture of mud and blood clinging to my hands. The noise of people chatting, people crying, people cheering. The metallic and acrid smell of sweat, gore and scorched earth.

  I blinked and looked around me. Shapes settled into meaning, finally registering my environment. I sat on a makeshift field bed in a tent. Its frame creaking beneath me. Across the narrow space, Spook lay on another bed while a healer tended the cuts along his arms and face.

  He looked pale. Older. As if something vital had been carved out of him and left behind on the battlefield.

  A warm, wet cloth brushed over my cheek. I followed the movement upward, my vision finally clearing enough to meet a pair of familiar golden eyes.

  Artemis.

  “Buddy?” I whispered, my voice fragile. He smiled, still in his humanoid form.

  “Welcome back.”

  I tried to return the smile. My lips moved, but nothing reached my eyes. It felt hollow. Empty.

  It would return, I told myself. It always did. Grief never stayed sharp forever.

  Artemis had taught me that. The sting dulled with time, and one day you would find yourself laughing again without quite knowing how you’d gotten there.

  “I’ll never get used to hearing your voice like that,” Spook murmured weakly from across the tent.

  Artemis chuckled.

  “I need some time getting used to it as well. My throat keeps expecting growls instead of words.”

  A voice called from the tent entrance, sharp and formal, speaking Ethilorian.

  “Khe du le carrriers of Rhunestones of Creathion.”

  “In here!” Spook answered in the common tongue, already swinging his legs off the bed.

  A soldier entered. His armour battered and bloodstained, his walk uneven. He grinned, wide and toothy, before bowing.

  “Officer Halvar Ilaris wishes to see the bringers of stones,” he said in broken common. Spook thanked the healer, then turned and offered me his hand.

  “Let’s go, little fox,” he smiled a sad smile. I took it without thinking. I felt numb still and let him guide us forward while Artemis followed close behind.

  Five of us had set out. Only three remained.

  The unfairness of it lodged like a shard beneath my ribs.

  Why us?

  Why did we had to be the ones to get involved in this war?

  The thought dissolved as we stepped outside. This war hadn’t singled us out. Hundreds – no, thousands – had paid its price.

  Men and women who had given their lives to protect the Ancestral Region. To protect the Mid Realm. And who knows how many children were victims as well?

  Soldiers from the High King’s army, Necromancers and elven cavalry moved through the carnage, gathering the fallen with quiet reverence. Bodies were laid in long rows, shrouded and still.

  The Underworld spawn were heaped into burning piles. The putrid smell of burning flesh reached my nostrils, bringing back memories of the fight.

  My eyes burned. I stubbornly wiped the tears away.

  Spook squeezed my hand and I managed a weak smile.

  Officer Ilaris’s tent loomed ahead. The large, orange tent was impossible to miss. Inside waited not only the officer and his lieutenants, but the Basilisk himself, Lord Reyzana with his eldest son, Orion and his brother, our High King; Edmund. The early morning light filtered through the opening, lighting up the small area with the table in the middle. It was stuffy inside. Suffocating.

  Their conversation died the moment we entered. Every gaze locked onto Artemis.

  One by one, their heads bowed. Lord Reyzana and his son were the first. Followed by the Basilisk and Orion. High King Edmund and officer Ilaris hesitated for a moment, but eventually bowed their heads as well.

  “You wished to speak to us,” Artemis said, waving away the formality.

  “Yes,” Edmund replied, squaring his shoulders. He motioned for us to sit. So we did.

  “The battle was fierce. Losses were… severe. But without the Runestones of Creation you all brought to us. Without your magic, my lord.” He looked at Artemis. “We would not have survived.”

  The words settled heavy in my stomach.

  “We wish to offer you all our eternal gratitude,” he continued. The words stung and my lips pressed to a thin line. Something snapped.

  “Eternal gratitude?” I mumbled to myself. The words slipped out before I could stop them. Every head turned to me. Heat flooded my face.

  “Eternal gratitude?!” I repeated, louder now.

  “Is there an issue?” Edmund asked coolly. Orion pinched the bridge of his nose. Exhaustion plain on his face.

  “You grant us your eternal gratitude,” I spat, “while the realm burned because of your hunt on the magi? If you hadn’t chased the magi into hiding, the Fiend might never have gained the upper hand!”

  “Excuse me—”

  “I’m not finished!” My voice shook with fury. “Do you know what we’ve lost? What we gave? And all you offer is gratitude?!”

  Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  His jaw tightened.

  “So you want coin? Is that it?” He snapped back.

  “Money?!” Rage roared through me. I didn’t want his gold. I wanted justice. I wanted Ash back. I wanted a world that hadn’t been torn open by fear and pride. But this man had thrown the world into chaos by continuing his father’s insane witch hunt.

  Something wild surged up inside me. Before I could held myself back, I vaulted the table.

  Chaos erupted.

  Orion yanked his brother back. The Basilisk laughed sharply. Lord Reyzana shouted my name. Guards surged forward, but Artemis was faster.

  His arms locked around my waist, lifting me clean off the ground as I flailed in his arms. He carried me outside while I screamed curses into the air. Orio’s voice rose behind me, chastising his brother.

  Once outside, Artemis set me down and spun me around to face him. I opened my mouth, but he looked me sternly in my eyes, raising his finger.

  “Now before you curse me as well,” he said his voice sharp, “listen.”

  I swallowed hard, gritting my teeth.

  “You have every right to be angry. But attacking the High King will not bring Ash back. Nor anyone else you’ve lost.”

  Tears spilled over. I clenched my fist. I knew that, but still…

  “But he should be on his knees. Begging forgiveness for continuing this war after his father died.”

  “And then what?” Artemis asked softly, lifting my chin. “What would that give you, hmm?”

  I had no answer. My lower lip began to tremble and I shrugged. Unable to form words.

  “Come here.” He pulled me into his embrace. “He’s not going to beg forgiveness. No matter how hard you try. And starting a new war doesn’t seem like the best of ideas.”

  “No,” I mumbled in agreement through my burning tears.

  “You’ll have to find a way to bury the hatchet. Holding on to it will destroy you. He was afraid. People make terrible choices when fear rules them.”

  “He learned his lesson, Faelwen.” A warm voice joined us. Lord Reyzana stood behind Artemis.

  “You should be proud. What you achieved is nothing short of a miracle. We all sacrificed something. I know that pain,” he said, eyes wet but kind.

  He turned to Spook, pressing a small ring into his palm. A silver ring, set with tiny green stones.

  “It was meant to be her wedding ring.” His voice caught on the last words and he swallowed hard.

  Spook’s breath hitched and looked up with tears in his eyes.

  “Thank you,” he whispered. Lord Reyzana clapped his shoulder, then looked back to me.

  “You will always be welcome in Caradsher?n. All of you. And if you ever need help, send us a message. We’ll come.”

  With those parting words he turned around. His eldest son moved towards Spook.

  “She always had an adventurous spirit. Don’t blame yourself for what happened,” he said with a smile. “She spoke fondly of you. Thank you for giving her the love she wanted.”

  “Aimar!” his father called out to him and with a curtly nod to us, he followed his father before Spook could respond.

  Together with the elves they started their journey back to Caradsher?n.

  “Ssspook.” Another voice drew our attention. And from the tent emerged the Basilisk, silent as ever. His face a mask of hidden emotions, his clothes torn from battle. But he stood proud and powerful. A true leader of the Black Hawks. It was then I realized Hawkeye wasn’t there next to him.

  The Basilisk handed Spook a heavy pouch of coin. Spook accepted it with a nod. Their eyes clashed for a moment. A silent understanding before Spook broke eye contact, placing the pouch of coins carefully in his backpack.

  “Where is Hawkeye?” I asked, dreading the answer.

  “With Rosemary… I mean Deathrose,” he corrected gently. I smiled faintly.

  “I’m glad they’re together now.”

  He nodded slowly. There was a brief shared silence before the Basilisk took a deep breath and started to move away.

  “Don’t be a ssstranger,” he mumbled before disappearing in the crowd as if he hadn’t stood here mere seconds ago.

  Spook chuckled, shaking his head.

  “He gave us enough gold coin to build a house and start over,” he grinned. His grin not as cheeky as before. Tainted by the grief and trauma we shared, but loving nonetheless. I smiled back.

  Suddenly noticing the exhaustion in my bones.

  “Shall we go?” I asked.

  “Where do you want to go?” Spook asked. The question struck me for a second. Where indeed? There was only once answer for me.

  “I want to go home.”

  “Then we go home,” Spook answered and he held out his hand. I gladly took it, looking over my shoulder at Artemis.

  “Are you coming, buddy?”

  He hesitated then smiled and nodded. But something in his eyes told me there were truths he wasn’t yet ready to share with me.

  ? ? ?

  We made our way toward the main route. Soldiers had told us that many villagers who had fled to Westray were gathering there. People desperate to return home, even knowing home might no longer exist.

  Near the eastern gate, where the road split toward the Marshes of the Fiends and the city of Westray, they gathered like birds before a long migration.

  The road pulsed with life and exhaustion; people, horses, carts packed so tightly it felt as if the earth itself groaned beneath their weight.

  Some carried their belongings on their backs. Bundles wrapped in cloth, held together by hope and fraying rope. Others had piled what little they owned onto carts. And some… some had nothing at all.

  Children cried, their voices raw from fear and hunger. Horses neighed, restless and tired. Feet scraped over dirt and stone in a slow, relentless march forward.

  Toward home.

  Toward ruins, perhaps. Toward empty foundations and ash-stained memories.

  My gaze lifted as I sensed a shift in the air. Most people gave a wide berth to the dragons resting in the nearby field. Fear and awe pushing them away in equal measure.

  One of the great creatures turned her head toward us, her silver-green scales catching the first light of dawn. Shimmering like tempered steel kissed by sunlight. Her glacial blue eyes met mine.

  Vaeranyx Emberlash. Lady of Zan’kareth.

  We cannot linger, her voice rumbled inside my mind, vast and resonant. The humans fear us. We will depart with the elves. I am glad to see you survived, Faelwen.

  I smiled softly. “Thank you for coming to our aid.”

  Of course. The Mid Realm is as much ours as it is yours.

  “There are so few of them,” Spook murmured beside me, counting the dragons with a furrowed brow.

  Most of our kin went to Faywood to defend the Primordial Lands, Vaeranyx explained to him. Only a small detachment was sent here.

  Spook stiffened, eyes widening slightly as her voice echoed in his thoughts.

  “I’ll never get used to that,” he muttered edging closer to me. I chuckled and squeezed his arm gently.

  As my gaze drifted back to the gathered humans, it caught on something… someone… familiar.

  An old cart stood just off the road, a grey, broad-backed horse hitched to its front. Sitting atop it were two figures I knew by heart.

  My chest tightened.

  They were alive.

  Vaeranyx noticed the shift in my focus and turned her great head, following my gaze.

  You should go to them, she said gently. We will meet again, Faelwen. You know where to find us.

  I turned my attention back to her and bowed my head. “Thank you. Safe travels home, my lady.”

  As much as a dragon could smile, she did. With a thunderous roar that made the earth tremble and sent a ripple of screams through the crowd, she turned to her kin.

  One by one, they launched into the air. Wings beating like the heart of a storm, following the elves back toward the Primordial Lands. The Fae Lands.

  I turned back to the road.

  “Thalor! Gwen!” I called.

  They turned. Recognition bloomed and Gwen cried out my name.

  She climbed down from the cart with surprising speed for her age, hurrying toward me as I ran to meet her. We collided halfway, arms wrapping tight, clinging like the world might try to pull us apart again.

  “My dear child,” she sobbed, pulling back just enough to look at me.

  “You’re alive… I—I can’t believe it. Look at you, all dirty.” Her hands brushed at my face, my hair. “Come, we’ll take care of you. And… where is Artemis?”

  “I’m here,” Artemis said calmly, approaching us.

  Gwen froze. Her mouth fell open.

  From atop the cart, Thalor let out a triumphant roar, “I knew it!”

  A soft laugh escaped me. Gwen stepped closer to Artemis, reaching out as if unsure whether he was real, her fingers brushing his arm.

  “How…?”

  “It’s good to see you again, Gwen,” Artemis said warmly. “I was hoping we might travel together. I’ve missed your cooking.”

  “Yes… Yes, of course,” she stammered, still dazed, before turning to Spook.

  “I’m Spook,” he said, offering a small smile. “Nice to meet you.”

  “Well then, Spook,” she said brightly, shaking herself out of her shock, “come on. Get on the cart. We’re leaving.”

  She helped us climb up among the baggage. Thalor took the reins, clicked his tongue and the cart began to roll forward. Away from the battle field. Away from the smoke and death.

  “I knew you weren’t a wolf,” Thalor murmured, the emblem of the Silver Soldiers on his armour catching the morning light as we drove off.

  Artemis huffed.

  “And I knew you weren’t just a farmer.”

  They shared a brief laugh as the son rose in the east.

  Its light was merciless, revealing the scars carved into the land. Burned fields. Broken stone. Wounds that would take years – decades even – to heal. Houses would have to be rebuild. And nature would have to return.

  My gaze drifted to Artemis. Then to Spook.

  We were the last three survivors of our group. A journey that began with me and Artemis, but we soon gathered the most unlikely companions along the way. Ash, my shadow and my fire. Elora, proud, and unyielding. And Spook.

  I smiled down at him as his head tipped against my shoulder. Sleep finally claiming him. A friendship forged in blood and grief. I wrapped an arm around him, feeling his breath even out.

  Despite everything, a faint smile curved his lips. Whatever the future held now. Whatever awaited us beyond this road. We still had each other.

  My eyes met Artemis’s.

  Gold meet forests splendour.

  For just a heartbeat, something flickered there. Uncertainty. Hesitation. Then he looked away.

  And the silence that followed felt heavier than the road behind us.