Ahna and a few fighters heeded the order, and they hurried past the gates of Orgna. When the elf looked back at Joshua, she saw him brandish the royal claymore at the horde.
“I’ll be with you soon, Erik,” the high commander whispered as he swung his blade.
Jules hurried Ahna into the Resistance base, and they ran together toward the end of the hallway. They stepped through the tunnel’s entrance and led the rest of the rebels past them. Luk Ma joined them shortly after. When all were through, they tailed the squad. The Ailuran tom and Jules plucked sticks of oiled wood from a crate placed by the entrance. The elf turned them into bright torches with a snap of her fingers.
They sped into the tunnel.
A wave of dokkalfar soldiers followed behind in the distance. There were barrels of fire medicine scattered along the serpenting walls, and Luk Ma and Jules lit each of them one by one. The further they moved, the more barrels exploded.
The grounds were shaking as the slithering tunnels were slowly collapsing behind them. They ran and ran until the entirety of the construction was blown to rubble.
Ahna’s final vision of the battlefield raced through her mind. High Commander Joshua, proud and glorious, with the claymore raised to the sky.
When they reached the tunnel’s exit, they found themselves at the other side of the highlands, close to a rocky path leading further up the mountain. If they took this trail, they would reach Fort Gal before sundown.
The more they climbed, the harsher the air became. The weather dropped below freezing temperatures. The sun shone bright, but the wind felt as cold as ice. The rocky road soon became powdered with snow. Some wounded soldiers fell to the ground, incapable of moving further. The rebels had no choice but to leave them behind and continue their march.
In the distance ahead, Jules spotted what appeared to be another wandering group of rebels. They had two horses with them that each pulled a cart of warm clothes and blankets. When they joined the group, they rejoiced and immediately wrapped themselves in the comfort of furs. They kept on climbing slowly on the snowy path that edged along the lower cliff. The trail brought them at the foot of one of Gurdal’s highest mounts: the Peak of Gal. It was remembered for its reclined shape over the lower mountains, like a claw that grew from the icy ground.
There, by the base, stood a small but robust stonewall structure, untouched by the hardship of winters in high Gurdal. The structure appeared to be protected underneath the cliff that leaned over it. The squad rejoiced once again, Fort Gal was in hand’s reach.
12
Fort Gal
The fort under the Peak of Gal had been built by the ancient monks of Gurdal. It had been a claustral monastery for the clerics in meditation retreat, away from the bustle of Bravoure. Centuries later, the monastery had been abandoned. After the war came to Bravoure, the Resistance had converted the structure to a fortified base. The stonewalls, roof, and gates had been reinforced. They had equipped the fort with armed cannons and used it as a massive arms stock.
The main church stood by the edge of the path above the lower valleys. And by the church was the cloister under Gal’s cliff, as though it were protected by its particular curvature. The cloister’s gallery was an open arcade, with a frosted garden at the center. There were unidentified statues carved into the ice by the monks that to this day, still adorned the cloister’s ancient open atrium. A large tree of ice stood at the center.
When Cedric stepped into the fort, he helped the refugees assemble the supply crates in the large church’s hall, the nave. To the left of the antechamber, he saw a few soldiers check on the horses they had rescued. He spotted his own, and a brown steed he had undoubtedly seen before.
In the nave, wounded rebels were laid on burlap rugs, and a few healers tended to them. More crates were amassed in the small hall right of the antechamber. Diego, who had travelled with him, immediately went to help out one of his Squadron Five swordsmen. Some clerics made sure the torches and braziers that warmed up the place were kept lit.
When Cedric arrived in the nave, Kairen went straight to him. They embraced, joyous to have both made it out alive. Commander Falco came to join them.
“David,” Cedric said with a lighter voice. “You made it.”
The two embraced as well. They were alive! After this emotional reunion, Kairen turned to Cedric.
“Where’s Ahna?” she questioned with a worried timbre.
Cedric shook his head and shrugged—he did not know. He had no idea if Ahna was even still alive. The thought of losing her had suddenly brought that pinch back in his heart. He could not bring himself to face Kairen with Ahna’s decision to stay at Orgna. He headed to one of his shrikes who had caught his attention.
Kairen stepped in his way. “Please, Cedric,” she implored. “Where is my sister?”
The shrike captain looked down and sighed. “She stayed behind. I don’t know if she ever...if she ever made it to the tunnels.” Cedric spoke with a pitch of grief.
As Kairen remained silent, he wiped the faded war-kohl off his face, turned around and went to his subordinate. The woman pursed her lips in worry, and tears began to drown her eyes. David wrapped his arms around her.
“Ahna will be here soon,” he gently reassured to comfort her. “She’s resourceful. She’ll make it.”
Lynn collapsed on the bench in the nave, the one closest to the chancel. She gazed upon the bare stone altar and held her hands together, her chin rested on her clasped fingers. She closed her eyes and attempted to come to serene relief in her mind. More of the Resistance’s scattered soldiers had arrived little by little at the fort, and she waited here.
She sat in silence, praying. “Oh victorious Guan, now would be a good time for your blessing,” she murmured.
As she held her eyes shut for a minute, Diego came to join her. He draped his arm around her shoulders, and she rested her head against him. His calm breathing brought her a sentiment of peace. He noticed traces of dried blood on her arms underneath her fur cloak and wiped it away with his fingers. The small movements became a caress that he swayed back and forth on her arm and shoulder. She smiled and opened her eyes to search for his.
“We could have been something, you know,” she said, hesitantly. “You and me.”
“Indeed, yet we had bigger things to do.” He smiled back and waited silently for a moment. “But I don’t think much of it matters anymore.”
As he lost himself in her serene brown eyes. They remained here, together, by the centuries-old altar that still stood there to this day.
Behind them, the Resistance fighters had opened a crate of food supplies. The critical mood had settled down, and some were praying silently by the braziers. A few clerics were gathered by the entrance of the cloister. They were on their way to prepare the rest of the dorms. Some people sat quietly on the benches of the nave, some people just stared in the emptiness and chill of Fort Gal. All attempted to recover from the tremor of the battle of Orgna, all in their own ways.
Diego and Lynn had briefly paused time and the rest of the world with their embrace, but a familiar voice suddenly addressed them.
“Good to see you two doves made it!” Jules exclaimed joyously.
Lynn immediately turned around to her dear friend. She jumped to her feet with enthusiasm and wrapped her arms around him, rubbing his shoulders furiously to express her glee.
“My favorite shrike!” she laughed. “You made it!”
Diego then joined in on the hug. The three swayed from left to right in consolation and comfort. When they regained their quietude, Jules pointed at the entrance.
“We came with a few extra coats and supplies,” the shrike lieutenant announced. “Ahna made it too.”
The three rebels saw the elf wrapped in fur as she embraced Captain Aquil by the antechamber. Kairen had her face in Ahna’s coat, to hide the flowing tears of relief. But when Ahna turned to David, she said a few inaudible words. Words that ripped the commander apart. David collap
sed to his knees, and Kairen rushed next to him to console him. She gave some orders to the soldiers around them, and everyone bustled away. When Lynn and Diego turned to the shrike lieutenant for an explanation, the latter took a deep breath.
The weight of grief rested on his shoulders. “The high commander...he didn’t make it.”
Lynn gasped at his words. A shocked and horrified look appeared on Diego’s face. Both of them looked to each other, speechless and voiceless, mouths agape.
The people in the nave came closer to the entrance of the fort. As the news of Joshua Sand’s final act of heroism spread, a dark mist of mourning descended upon Fort Gal.
Ahna walked into the cloister, into the enclosed gallery underneath the cliff. She followed the covered way until she reached the entrance to the frosted garden. There, in the middle of the open atrium, stood a beautiful tree made of ice. Its branches coiled and spread almost to touch the gallery roofs. The robust and translucent trunk reflected the light of the sun with a thousand shimmers. It almost looked real, as if an ancient oak had transformed into an eternal ice statue.
Around it, a few Gurdal stone benches had symmetrically been placed, for the old monks to meditate under the frosted oak tree. And scattered around the garden were the ice sculptures of centuries ago. Most saw these forms and shapes as a mere manifestation of the monks’ unending imagination. Others saw the movements of suns and moons around stellar systems much vaster than Terra, Luna, and Sol. But when she glanced at the statues, Ahna perhaps saw the phases of the Storms of Creation.
These ice sculptures were so much older than she was. They had witnessed so many moons, had heard so many stories. They had lived through so many eras, always protected by the reclined Peak of Gal.
By the tree, in the middle of the ice decorations, the shrike captain stood with his back toward Ahna. He wore a long brown Gurdal yak fur coat and seemed to absently study the sculpted details of the statue in front of him. When he heard Ahna’s footsteps behind him, he immediately turned around and rushed toward her. They both embraced, and the shrike plunged his gaze deep into her purple eyes. His arms behind her waist pressed her closer to him. His hands then came to find her face in soothed affection, and he smiled gently at her.
“Ahna! You made it,” he softly said with relief. “I thought I’d lost you again.”
He drew her face closer to his, his lips were just in her reach. She could feel his warm breath brush smoothly against her cold cheeks. She placed her gloved hands on his chest and remained here, close to him. This fraction of a second almost felt like it could last forever, and his cerulean eyes would never leave hers. But after this sweet bit of comfort, the grave reality pulled them back to where they stood.
“Joshua stayed behind,” Ahna said.
The shrike released his embrace and turned around. He let out a deep sigh and looked up, as though he had to beg his tears away. “The high commander always said he would fight to the death if it meant the survival of the Resistance.”
He turned back to Ahna and prepared to head into the fort. The night was near, and they had to brace for what would come next. They headed back inside together and received a few tasks from the clerics to help with the sorting of more food supplies.
Ahna met Kairen again, who requested her assistance to prepare some bread, jam, and nutspread for the evening meal. Mother Divine had joined David and Luk Ma in the nave. They discussed the near future of the Resistance, how they were to protect Fort Gal and preserve as many civilians and young recruits as possible. They had no idea whether Sharr’s troops would advance up the mountain. But if his army did, they surely planned to raid the fort.
The fort was blanketed in silence while what was left of the Resistance ate their evening meal together. A simple assortment of bread and spreads they had been able to move to Fort Gal. It would not be long, though, before their supplies would diminish.
The elders recomforted soldiers who had lost their comrades in battle, children who had lost a parent. Some toddlers, too young to understand, grumbled about the cold and curled up to their mother or father.
A group of swordsmen sat around a bonfire and smiled and laughed together. They shared memories of the fallen heroes, some of them cheerful, some of them moving. The fires of the braziers seemed to bring some warmth to the ground’s cold stones. They all rested underneath layers of cowhides and fur shawls.
David, who sat by his wife, had lost his thoughts in the near brazier’s flames. He could not eat his bread or drink, just sit there by the fire and ponder.
“He could still be out there, Kairen,” he assured desperately.
His wife passed her hand in his back and caressed him. Her eyes wanted to express a thousand words of comfort, but she could not give David false hopes.
“Ahna and Luk Ma were the last ones to leave,” she said with honest sorrow. “They blew up the tunnels behind them. Joshua stayed behind.”
David kept his coal eyes on the crackling flames. His thoughts lingered on the memory of his dear and proud high commander. He had to accept his death to move forward, but he could not bring himself to do so.
“I can’t do this without him,” he silently admitted to his wife.
Mother Divine, who had noticed the commander’s grief, stood up and attracted the attention of the soldiers in the nave. She raised her left hand open next to her face, which was a sign of honesty of words during a ceremonial service. Everyone laid eyes on her and waited for her to speak.
“My dear children,” she slowly began. She cleared her throat and continued. “Tonight, we mourn. We mourn the loss of our comrades, of our protectors, of our friends. But we also recognise them. We remember the heroes who gave their lives for the cause that is the rebellion.” Astea paused and looked at David with a warm smile. “High Commander Joshua Sand.”
The man understood what was expected of him, and he rose to his feet. As he slowly marched to the brazier, he pinched a few crumbs off of his bread, which he then threw into the flames. A symbolic act of setting a share of his meal aflame for the soul of the dead to depart satiated.
Astea then continued.
She named each of the fallen rebels. Whether it was a captain, soldier, cadet, medic, attendant, cleric, or humble refugee, she called each and every one of them by name until she reached a hundred. Each mention was followed by a close relative or friend, who came to the brazier and followed David’s actions.
“Jade Lark,” Astea finally said as she looked to Cedric.
The shrike, whose heart ached at the call of his superior’s name, stood up and joined in on the ceremonial ritual.
When he came to sit back next to Diego, his dear friend handed him a small canteen of goldrain rum. He joked that it was all he had saved. And to honor all the remaining heroes, Astea herself walked to the brazier. At the end of the memorial, she chanted a short prayer. A benediction in hopes to guide the fallen souls through the river, from Underworld to the Heavens.
It was dark, and the fort’s nave was only lit by a lone brazier at the center. Most of the remaining rebels gathered in the dorms to rest for the night. Only a few stayed in the main hall, unable to sleep or seeking the company of other restless spirits.
Ahna sat on the bench facing the center brazier. She had been alone for a moment until Cedric joined her by the fire. He remained silent, as though he waited for her to say the first words. His long fur coat drooped from his broad shoulders and his breathing and slow heartbeat was all Ahna could hear.
She wanted him to say something.
They had spent weeks running. East Haven and back, the capital, Xandor, the castle where she had been locked up, the Battle of Orgna, and they had ended up here. For a minute, she had wished to go back in time and do things differently, but even if she could, this was something she could not fix.
“Do you despise me?” she finally asked, emerging from the silence.
The shrike chuckled in surprise. “Why would I hate you? We’re long past that.”<
br />
Ahna sighed. She thought of the high commander’s decision to stay, and how she could have dragged him off that battlefield! The Resistance could still have its leader. The idea of a simple persuasion cantrip even popped into her mind. But that wouldn’t be just, would it? The high commander’s life had been about honor and pride, and he had pledged his life to the Resistance.
Ahna’s thoughts then lingered on darker corners, from back to the capital and when she had faced Xandor to Thamias still living, to her failure to save Cedric’s soul. The Dark Lord, her brother, the evil inside, the curse of the House of Sharr.
“When I was young,” she emerged from the silence again. “More than a lifetime ago,” she chuckled distantly. “My mother saw what Xandor was becoming. My...brother admired our father to the point of idolation. Father was mad. My mother decided to flee with her second son and me. She gave Xandor a choice to follow, but he refused.”
Cedric stayed and listened. Ahna was shivering as she opened up to him, and he moved closer to her.
“Have you heard of the Dragonborn?” she asked.
“The hero from the legends? There was a prophecy of Sharr’s demise,” Cedric recalled. “But Sharr killed the Dragonborn, didn’t he?”
“He couldn’t kill him,” she declared as she shook her head. She then turned to him and inhaled deeply, as though she was about to elaborate on something obscure. “When I was very young, even younger than you, my brothers and I were inseparable. We had just begun our military service. Xandor and I were so fierce with youth. Thamias simply followed us everywhere. We made a vow, a pact to never ever harm each other. We...” she had difficulty saying the next part—“We consorted with one of Father’s demons, who offered to baptise us in demonic blood. Xandor, Thamias, and I are therefore bloodbound. We are incapable of killing each other.” She exhaled deeply after this. “We never thought we’d come so far.”
Tempest of Bravoure: Kingdom Ascent Page 17
