The Huntresses' Game

by Joe Jackson

  His pain has ended, and mine has just begun.

  Seanada wasn’t far behind Little Gray, and the half-syrinthian put Uldriana down to crawl across the floor. Kari’s daughter was already quite proficient at it, when she hadn’t even begun when Kari left. It was just something else Kari had missed in her family’s lives, another thing she had sacrificed to pursue her career. If she wasn’t out doing the work of the gods and helping put an end to threats to her very world, Kari didn’t think she’d be able to deal with it.

  The demonhunter lifted her eyes to Seanada. “When did he die?” she asked, her voice sounding far too loud in the silence of the temple.

  “Three days after you left,” the half-syrinthian said.

  “And when did you get here?” Kari asked her mother-in-law.

  “I left as soon as I felt him pass,” Kyrie said, fresh tears flowing. She may have been the high priestess of the god of death, but it was her child lying on the stone table before her. Kari didn’t imagine any beliefs would mitigate those feelings.

  Kari gestured for her mother-in-law to come sit beside her, but then she turned back to Seanada. “So you had the children alone for weeks? Why didn’t you send me a message? I could’ve come back.”

  “You had work to be done,” the half-syrinthian answered with a shrug. “And I grew up among the mallasti, so I am no stranger to having children to look after. Completing the weaning of your daughter was a challenge, but they were otherwise little trouble to care for. There was an elf that came to see to your children, but I did not know her and kept her away from them until I could verify her identity with you.”

  “Peri was here?” Kari asked.

  “I believe she still is. Aside from a wet nurse and the proprietor and servers at the inn, I allowed no one to get close to your children.” Seanada went and laid her hand on Grakin’s shoulder, and her golden eyes came up to meet Kari’s gaze. “Forgive me; there are some things I cannot protect you and your family from.”

  Kari waved off the comment, biting back the sob that threatened to break the peaceful quiet. Kyrie leaned into her, and Kari wrapped her mother’s head with her free arm, the other clutched about Little Gray. She wondered where Aeligos was; he was the only one who hadn’t come to the temple to see Grakin. Aeligos and Grakin had always been very close, much closer than either was to any of their other siblings, and Kari had no doubt this was hitting Aeligos nearly as hard as it was hitting her. She also had to consider that, as far as she knew, there hadn’t been any deaths in the family before. Losing that first close loved one was always a trial, and it was only made worse the closer that person was to one’s heart.

  She looked back up at Seanada, considering the blessing it had been to be assigned the half-syrinthian’s services. Once again there was that sense that something bigger lay beneath it all, and that meeting her and Marracir had not been chance. She recalled the dream she had – or had it been real? – of Sakkrass and Huirelius, and wondered how much control the gods could and did exert over the lives of their people. The memories of Sakkrass’ words and of playing chess with Koursturaux lined up side by side in Kari’s mind, and she wondered just how many moves ahead the gods themselves could arrange things.

  But did they? Everything she knew pointed to people having free will, so did the gods really exert any influence on the outcomes at all? It was too deep, too philosophical for Kari; as she explained to most people, she tended to only look at what was right in front of her. Perhaps, though, that was part of the problem, and a big reason her husband lay dead on a table before her and she hadn’t seen it coming. Had Koursturaux suspected what was coming, teaching Kari to see things well in advance?

  Little Gray got antsy, so Kari set him down and then hefted up Uldriana. She couldn’t help but wonder how things would play out now. She had, in theory, just completed the test to become Avatar of Vengeance, but she was now a single mother and would hardly have the time to perform the duties of that office. Certainly, the family would help, as they always had, but Kari couldn’t foist her children on others constantly while she went out seeking ways to get herself killed.

  Everything in her life was about to change in so many ways. If what she had been told was true, she would now share a direct connection with Zalkar. She would be raising her children without their father and her husband. She would still be a part of the Tesconis family, but the thread holding them together directly was now severed. People were going to look at her and treat her differently now, for one reason or another. She recalled that Grakin had asked Aeligos to take care of her needs while they were on the road, and now that felt even more awkward, and she was glad she hadn’t given in to what little temptation was there.

  Did you know your time was that short, my love? Why did you not say anything? Kari whispered in her mind.

  She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and let it out in a long sigh. She thought of how close they’d been on the journey to Flora. Aside from Grakin’s impotence, it had been like a honeymoon, even with the children. They had spent nearly all their time close together, aglow with the bonds of spouses and parents. Had he known? Had he experienced some special lucent moment that his time was almost up, and that he wanted to spend what remained as close to her as he could be?

  Kari had to be a little thankful. Had she left Grakin behind when she left for Terrassia, she’d be completely crushed now. But she’d gotten those last couple of weeks with him aboard the ship, and despite how inadequate it seemed overall, it was something to cherish. She had that as her last memory of him, rather than remembering him standing on a dock waving goodbye, or thinking about how she had spent his last days visiting a demon king or sailing away from him.

  Kari took off her dog tags. She slipped the wedding band off of Grakin’s finger and slid it down the chain, then put it back around her neck. Kyrie watched in stunned silence, so Kari leaned over to give her a kiss. “I’ll be back in a while. I need to go get the children fed.”

  “I can take care of that for you, Lady Vanador,” Seanada offered.

  Kari shook her head. “No, you’ve been doing it for weeks, I need to spend some time with them.”

  The half-syrinthian bowed her head. “As you wish. Would you like me to instead go and try to contact the elf if she is still here?”

  “Maybe after we have something to eat,” Kari sighed. “You’ve obviously been a steady presence for the children, so I’d like you to come with me for now.”

  Seanada agreed and accompanied Kari back to the inn. Aeligos wasn’t there, either, so they got the children settled at a table while Mr. Darby brought them meals. He expressed his condolences to Kari quietly, but didn’t want to impose, so he left her be once he had. Once there was food on the table and they began to eat, Seanada pulled something from the folds of her cloak. “This is for you,” she said, handing the sealed, folded letter to Kari. “Your husband asked that this be given to you and you alone, that you may share it with the family if you desire.”

  Kari took the letter and had to take a steadying breath. “I’ll read this later, in my room,” she said, tucking it away. “Did you two talk at all in the days before he passed?”

  “We spoke a great deal,” Seanada said. “Your husband was an exceptional person, one who spent his last days of life thinking not of himself, but those he would leave behind. I believe he knew you would spend many days second-guessing your decision to undertake your mission, and the letter addresses that. He was quite concerned for you.”

  Kari stared at the half-syrinthian. “He must have trusted you, if he was content in letting you watch the children after he died.”

  “I swore an oath to protect you and your family; he had faith in that,” she returned. “I am curious what you have faith in, Lady Vanador. Your husband served your god of death, did he not? You seem to be handling this quite well. Are you content in knowing where he has gone?”

  “We’ve known this was coming for years,” Kari answered. “I suppose that makes
it a little easier to deal with, but honestly, I’m still just working through everything. I know where he’s gone, and that I’ll see him again, and I’m trying to be content with that. What worries me is having the children to take care of alone, with all the other responsibilities I have.”

  “But you are not alone,” Seanada said, curiosity in her eyes. “Your family is not unlike a mallasti family. You have multiple generations and siblings willing to aid you. That is why the mallasti congregate in such large families, that the burdens of family and even village are shared, and never fall squarely onto one person.”

  Kari half-smiled, trying to imagine how she would’ve felt being compared to a mallasti family even a year ago. Her life was changing so rapidly, and the world with it, and nothing she did seemed to slow any of it down. On the contrary, her efforts only served to accelerate all of the changes. Changes that led to her sitting across from a half-syrinthian, half-succubus who had cared for her children for weeks. Kari wondered how Kyrie dealt with finding her grandchildren in the care of the half-syrinthian.

  “What is death like to the mallasti people?” she asked Seanada.

  “They largely consider it a return to the embrace of the Great Mother, to join her in her sleep until such time as she reawakens. But the faith is different from village to village, person to person. Some have lost their faith and their way; others cling tightly to it, not unlike your husband did.”

  Kari held her children a little tighter when the meal was done, and they returned to the temple of Kaelariel. Aeligos was there, sitting a silent vigil beside his brother’s body, and Kari went and sat beside him. Seanada took the children to another part of the temple to give the two some quiet and privacy. The rogue didn’t say anything, just leaned into Kari and cried. She let a few tears of her own go, but where she had initially felt cold and empty, now she felt warmth.

  “I think it was him,” she said.

  Aeligos sat up and looked at her. “What was him?”

  “The light that guided me,” she said. “Seanada said he died a few days after we left. I think that was him guiding me in the mountains, and in that shadowy place, making sure to get me home safely.”

  “Why couldn’t I see him, then?” Aeligos asked, almost indignantly.

  “He was my husband, Aeligos. The light of my life. Maybe more literally than I ever thought.”

  He hugged tight to her, and they sat for a while. Kari left to return to the inn and put the children down for a nap. Once she got them settled, she took out the letter from Grakin. It took her a few minutes before she could even bring herself to break the seal. At last she did, and she began to read his impeccable script, something she hadn’t seen very often.

  My dearest, sweet Karian,

  I have only one regret in this lifetime, my love, and it is that our time together should be cut short. In you I have found the perfect mate: a woman I can love, cherish, and respect, but whose heroism and bravery leave me consistently amazed. I have told you often that I would not change a thing about you, and I reaffirm this now.

  Because I know you too well.

  You are no doubt wondering if you should have refused this last task assigned to you, to spend more time with me before my passing. You will spend many a day asking yourself what you could or should have done differently.

  The answer is: Nothing. I am proud of you, my love. Proud of everything you stand for, everything you do. These last couple of weeks we got to spend together are among my most cherished memories, and they will go with me into the hereafter.

  I spent many years of my life knowing and learning to accept my fate. But always did I imagine I would die alone – surrounded by family, certainly, but without the bonds of a mate. Instead, in you I found my soulmate, my love, and my partner, and had the blessed joy of having children. If there is one consolation for me, it is that I will watch our family grow from beyond.

  And it is on this note that I have a final request to make of you, my love:

  Do not mourn me too long. What we had, I will cherish forever, as I am certain you will. But do not spend the remainder of your days unmated and adrift for my sake. Remember always that I love you, but if you should find the opportunity to remarry, do not hesitate.

  I know that you still have feelings for Kris Jir’tana. Should your paths cross again, know that I want you to be happy, and if that means being with him, then do so. While I cannot say I know him personally, his reputation precedes him, and as long as I have served his father, I know that he is a good man.

  Raise our children well, and know that I will love you, always. I do not think I will survive to see you return, and I know how this will hurt you. Do not be overcome with regret or guilt. I love you. I love who you are, I love what you do, and I love that you never put your own wants above others’ needs.

  Walk always in love and peace, and know that I will see you again.

  With eternal love,

  Grakin

  Kari clutched the letter tightly to her breast and let out the last of her grief. She felt guilty for a few moments, wondering if Grakin had ever felt like Kari’s second choice. Did she speak so much and so highly of Kris that even her husband wanted her to pursue a relationship with him? It didn’t seem to matter, really: Kris was still a young man by half-guardian standards, even though he was older than Kari. And Kari was closing in on forty, and wouldn’t likely still be as attractive an option to someone so long-lived.

  She couldn’t even think about that right now. It was going to take her some time to let go of Grakin, if she ever could. Any man trying to worm his way into her life in the short-term was going to get a taste of her fist. And if she did decide to seek romantic interests again, anyone she courted was going to have to accept that they would be a father to her children. And that was the one thing she really wasn’t sure about when it came to someone like Kris.

  Kari fell asleep thinking about Grakin, and she woke up with her children after a little while. Uldriana didn’t fuss to nurse, which was a good thing, since Kari wouldn’t even be able to anymore after so long apart. She got down on the floor and played with Little Gray while his sister crawled around looking for things to use to stand up. It hurt to think she wasn’t there for her child when he was dealing with his father’s disappearance. Then again, she had to wonder: did her own frequent trips away help prepare her son for the separation?

  She pushed it aside, and dug deep for that practicality that always amazed her family. All she could do was deal with what was in front of her. She would grieve for Grakin in her heart, but she had to tend to her children, and make sure they grew up knowing that their father was a gentle, caring man who had loved them very much. She had to learn to depend even more on her family now, and make certain they knew how much she appreciated them.

  There was a knock on the door, and Kari got up and hid the letter from Grakin before she went to let Kyrie in. Her mother-in-law hugged her tightly, and then went to sit on the floor with the children. “How are you holding up?” Kari asked.

  “I was going to ask you the same,” Kyrie said, managing a slight smile. “Is there anything you need?”

  “Just time,” Kari said, sitting down beside her. “Gods, knowing this was coming hasn’t helped at all. And after having to kill my friend…” Kyrie looked surprised, so Kari filled her in on all that had happened. She made sure to punctuate the entire tale with details about Aeligos’ bravery, and that brought a fuller smile to the woman’s face. “It’s a lot to take in. I’m glad I’ll have the children to keep me busy on the voyage home.”

  “You know, that woman…Seanada…she’s been exceptionally good with the children,” Kyrie said. “I expected, when you first brought her home, that she was some cold, unfeeling killer. There is certainly a lot more to her than I would have ever guessed.”

  “I knew there was more to her based on what I was told before she joined me,” Kari said. “It’s a lucky thing she was assigned to guard me, and that I had her come an
d watch over Grakin and the kids.”

  Kyrie leaned into Kari at the sound of her son’s name. “I’m glad he’s finally at peace, and no longer in pain, but I already miss him. Kari, if you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask me. Don’t let my grief supersede yours.”

  “The same goes for you, Mom,” Kari said, hugging her tightly. “That’s what I learned in this test from Zalkar. Strength is multiplied when it’s shared. We’ll get through this together, I promise you.”

  “Will you help me talk to Aeligos?”

  “Of course.” Kari hefted up Uldriana and called for Little Gray to follow, and they made their way downstairs to find Aeligos.

  Piriin’vuae so’Lant’aerii was there in the commons with Seanada and Aeligos. The elf glanced sidelong at the half-syrinthian before she approached. “Lady Vanador, allow me to express my deepest sympathies, and those of all the elven nation of Laeranore,” she said with a deliberate bow of her head. “I came to see to your family when I received a response to the message you asked me to send, but this woman refused to allow me to see your children.”

  Kari nodded, finding a bit of humor in the situation, even in light of the shadows that clouded her. “She’s been assigned to protect us, and obviously takes it very seriously,” she answered. “But I appreciate you going out of your way to help.”

  “The Queen was all too happy to allow me to come here for such an honored friend of the kingdom,” Peri assured her. “If there is any way we can be of service, you have but to ask.”

  Kari considered that for a minute. Would it be too much to ask? she wondered. “It may be too much to ask of you, but Grakin’s final wish…was to be buried at our home, and have a great tree planted over his grave.”

  “Then I will accompany you, and grow a magnificent reminder of your husband where he is laid to rest,” Peri agreed without further prompting.