“Very good, my lord.” Kamiro bowed then exited. Sen handed the bowl to Ashinji, then pulled up a stool beside the cot and sat.
“Have you left my side at all these past days, Father?” Ashinji asked.
Sen shrugged. “Only to take a piss now and then.” He laid a hand on Ashinji’s shoulder then squeezed. “Our people are overjoyed, Son, that you’ve been returned to us. I think most of the Kerala levies are camped outside this tent, waiting for you to come out.”
Ashinji raised the bowl to his mouth then drank, wincing a little as the salty broth stung his injured lip. Sen remained silent while his son ate.
After he had sipped the last drops from the bowl and set it aside, Ashinji dared to look into his father’s eyes. He saw the unconditional love and acceptance for him that had always been there, but he also saw his father’s sadness and bewilderment.
“Do our people know about Sadaiyo?”
“Yes, Son, they do.” The pain Ashinji heard in his father’s voice stung his heart. He knew telling his father the whole story would be one of the hardest things he would ever have to do.
The words came haltingly at first, but once started, they flowed more easily. He left nothing out, and after he had finished, he lowered his head and wept. Sen embraced and rocked him, just as he had done when Ashinji had been a boy, soothing his childish hurts as only a father could.
Except that these hurts will never fade completely.
After a while, Sen spoke. “That you survived to return to me is truly a miracle for which I can never offer up enough thanks,” he murmured. “I don’t deserve the Goddess’ blessings, not after what I’ve done.”
Ashinji pulled away from his father in surprise. “What do you mean, Father? You’ve done nothing wrong.”
“Yes, Ashi, I have,” Sen insisted. “I refused to admit my behavior toward your brother was unfair, that it caused him great pain, and in turn, I refused to see how he punished you for my transgressions. I tried to love Sadaiyo as I loved you, Ashi, but…Goddess help me, I just couldn’t! I knew from the moment I first held you in my arms that we would share a special bond, you and I. I could never explain it—still can’t—but it’s there, and it’s stronger than ever.”
“I said this to Mother and I’ll say it again to you, Father. You and she mustn’t blame yourselves for what Sadaiyo did to me,” Ashinji replied.
Sen sighed, blinking back tears. “I just hope your brother has found some peace at last.”
“Father, what happened during the battle in front of Tono Castle? How did we manage to defeat the Soldarans? We were so badly outnumbered.”
Sen shook his head. “It’s hard to believe it, even now…’twas like nothing any of us had ever seen, Son. A miracle, many are saying.”
“A miracle? What do you mean?”
“Well, what would you call a pillar of fire pouring down from the sky? It blasted away half their army in the blink of an eye! Turned ’em to ash, just like that! Hurt a lot of our own people as well, so every miracle has its price, I s’pose. The Goddess has to dole out a little hurt for so much good fortune.”
So that’s what it looked like, Ashinji thought. He gripped the edge of the cot and stared into Sen’s face. “Father, there’s a lot more I have to tell you.”
Sen’s eyes widened. “About what, Son?”
“About that miracle. About what really happened. A lot of it has to do with Jelena.”
“Jelena?”
“Father, Jelena is dead, and I killed her.”
***
Ashinji felt no surprise to learn that his father already knew most of the major details of the Kirians’ plan. Sen and Amara had always told each other everything.
“Your mother swore me to secrecy. I had to lie to Keizo, my friend and my king. Goddess’ tits, but that was hard. She promised me the Kirians had everything in hand, that the plan would succeed…She left out the part about having to kill Jelena, though.” Sen scowled, and seeing his father’s anger, Ashinji laid a hand on his forearm.
“Please don’t be angry with Mother. She hoped with all her heart the Kirians could find a way to accomplish their task without…without killing Jelena, but in the end, they could not.”
“I wish they’d left you out of it, Son. You shouldn’t have had to do what they asked of you. It wasn’t fair.”
“They had no one else. If I hadn’t agreed, then none of us would have survived.”
Father and son gazed at each other without speaking for a few heartbeats. Ashinji broke the silence first.
“Father, you knew about my Talent, didn’t you?”
Sen looked away. “I’m sorry, Ashi,” he murmured. “Your mother knew, even before you were born, how strong your Talent was. She and I both agreed…we felt it would be easier on you if she blocked your magic. That way, it wouldn’t be so hard for you to accept what our tradition decreed for you, that as a second-born child of my House, your life was pledged to the king’s service.”
Ashinji remembered how much anger he had felt toward his mother when she had admitted what she had done.
There’s no anger left in me for any of this now. I’ve lost too much to waste time being angry.
“I always knew a soldier’s life wasn’t what you wanted, Son,” Sen continued, “but you never complained. You did what was expected of you, and now…” Sen cradled Ashinji’s bruised face between his hands. “You are my Heir now, Ashi,” he whispered.
Ashinji lowered his head, unable to look his father in the eyes. “No matter how I felt about my brother, I never wanted him dead.”
“I know,” Sen replied. He let his hands slip down to Ashinji’s shoulders, gave them a squeeze, then dabbed his leaking eyes on his sleeve. His melancholy expression brightened a little.
“Now that you’ve recovered enough to travel, I’m ordering this division back to Tono Castle today. We should be on the road to Sendai within the week. I’ll send in Kamiro with some clothes for you.” Sen rose to his feet, pushed aside the curtain and left.
Ashinji lay back on the bed and closed his eyes. A hodgepodge of aches plagued his body, but nothing so severe that it would prevent him from walking, or even riding when he had to.
After assuring himself his body could function, albeit in a diminished capacity, he turned his mind to the task of assessing the state of his Talent. The energy fueling his magic had begun to replenish itself, but it had yet to reach full strength; even so, he decided to reach out with his mind to try to search for the familiar thread of energy that had bound him and Jelena together.
He sensed nothing.
Maybe I’m still too weak, he thought. He couldn’t bring himself to admit the other possibility.
Kamiro bustled in, bringing a fresh set of clothes. “May I assist you, my lord?” the valet offered.
Ashinji opened his eyes. “No thank you, Kamiro. I think I can manage,” he replied. The valet bowed, placed the clothing on the cot, bowed again, then departed.
Dressing himself proved to be a little more difficult and painful than Ashinji had anticipated. A mass of bruises covered his torso where Sadaiyo had pummeled him, and it hurt to raise his arms. After pulling on a pair of sandals then raking his fingers through his disheveled hair, he stepped out of the tent into the late afternoon sunshine.
A ragged chorus of cheers greeted him, causing him to start in surprise. A large group of Kerala soldiers stood before the tent, just as Sen had said.
Aneko stood at the forefront. “On behalf of all of the Kerala troops, I want to welcome you back, my lord,” she said, grinning.
Ashinji scanned the faces before him, seeing a new, deeper level of devotion in each one. Until this moment, he had given no thought to the full measure of profound change Sadaiyo’s death had wrought upon his life and future. He had no choice but to face it now.
It’s true. I really am the future Lord of Kerala.
Aneko stepped forward. “I’m very sorry for your loss, my lord. We all are,” she said, then
added in a low voice, “For the first time, though, I feel confident about Kerala’s future. I apologize if my words offend you, my lord, but it’s true and I know all my comrades feel the same.” She glanced over her shoulder at the assembled troops.
“In the face of such love and loyalty, I can feel nothing but pride and love in return,” Ashinji replied. “I only pray I’ll remain worthy of your devotion.” He raised his voice so the entire group could hear. “Thank you all.”
“Let’s hear it for our young lord!” Aneko shouted.
The soldiers’ cheers flew into the cloudless sky like bright arrows.
***
“My lord Prince, General Sakehera has returned.”
Raidan raised his head from his clasped hands. “Thank you,” he murmured to the messenger. “I will go down and meet him.”
In truth, it’ll be good to get a little fresh air, he thought. Priests and their incense! Why’d he have to burn so much, anyway? My throat is raw!
The new king had spent the last few nights in the castle’s chapel, keeping vigil beside his son’s body. The chapel attendants had washed the dead prince then redressed him in his armor, and now the body lay on a bier before the altar. Stiffly, Raidan rose from his knees, massaging the ache in his lower back. He looked around and spotted Kaisik, asleep on a bench by the east wall. Wincing with pain, he made his way over to the bench then stood a moment, looking down at the boy.
Kaisik has always been the most fragile of my children, the one who feels everything most keenly. This burden he must now take on was never meant for one such as him.
“Kaisik,” Raidan murmured, reaching down with a gentle hand to shake the boy’s shoulder.
“Mmmm.”
“Wake up, Son. It’s morning.”
Kaisik’s eyes fluttered open, blank at first, then clouding with grief as memory returned. He levered himself up into a sitting position, his gaze settling on Raidu’s body. “I keep praying for it all to be a bad dream,” he whispered.
“If only that were so. Come.” Raidan gestured for Kaisik to follow him. The messenger waited, fidgeting, by the chapel door. Raidan raised his eyebrow.
“My lord Prince, you won’t believe this news!” the man said in a rush. “General Sakehera’s son, the one everyone thought was dead? Well, seems he’s very much alive! He’s with the general now, my lord!”
So. Young Sakehera has not only succeeded in his seemingly impossible task, but he’s somehow managed to survive as well. A miracle upon a miracle.
Raidan nodded his head in silent respect. He looked up at the sky and saw that much of the morning had already passed. He had lost all sense of the flow of time while kneeling by Raidu’s body in the smoky dimness of the chapel, aware only of the bitter truth of his eldest son’s death.
With the messenger leading the way, Raidan left the chapel then walked down the gravel path to the main gate of the castle, Kaisik trailing after him like a mournful ghost. He spotted Sen standing amidst a group of his Kerala troops. Of Sen’s eldest son, he saw no sign, but Ashinji stood beside him, his face cut and bruised as if he had been in a vicious fight. A shrouded body on a stretcher lay on the gravel between them.
“The elven people owe you a debt of gratitude too great to repay, Captain Sakehera,” Raidan said as he approached.
Ashinji’s gaze dropped to the body, then back up to meet Raidan’s. “I only did what I had to do, Highness,” the younger man replied.
Raidan shook his head. “You are far too modest, young man. You forget that I know a little about what you faced.” He turned to Sen. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you that I’d seen your son alive, my friend. I tried, but then the sorrow over my own son’s fate overcame me and I couldn’t speak.”
“It seems we must both endure the same agony this day,” Sen replied. He bent over the shrouded body then pulled back a fold of the cloth to reveal the face of his eldest son.
“Ai, Sen!” Raidan exclaimed in dismay. “But how…I saw your Heir alive and well after the battle!”
“An accident, old friend. A terrible, senseless accident took the life of my son.” Sen had never feared to show his emotions, and he made no effort to hide his tears now.
“Your son shall lie beside mine in the chapel until we are ready to depart. When we return to Sendai, the death rites shall be performed for both of them in the Royal Chapel.”
“I am honored, Majesty.” Sen bowed his head into one hand and rested the other on Ashinji’s shoulder.
“I am sorry for your loss, Majesty,” Ashinji said. Raidan inclined his head in thanks, and, looking into the younger man’s eyes, he saw the terrible truth, and felt no surprise.
Perhaps, in a general sense, Sadaiyo Sakehera’s death was an accident. I saw this coming a year ago, back when Sen first returned to Sendai with his sons to begin work on the planning of Alasiri’s defense.
Such poisonous jealousy between two brothers could only have ended in tragedy.
Raidan looked at his own son, standing bleak and hollow-eyed beside him, and realized that even though he had misunderstood the bond between Kaisik and his brother, the two of them had understood it perfectly well, and had cherished it.
For that I will always be grateful.
Raidan reached out to lay a hand on Sen’s shoulder. “Come to the great hall, my friend, and together, we will drink to the memories of our sons.”
Reflections and Farewells
Jelena opened her eyes, then squeezed them shut again.
“Where am I?” she whispered.
Why does everything seem so bright? “Am I dead?”
No, Jelena. You are most definitely not dead. You are home, child, and you are safe.
“Oh.” She tried to move, then realized her mistake. “Uhhhhh!”
Keep still, Jelena. You are badly injured. You must lie still.
“What happened…Hatora! Where is she?”
Shhhhh, child. Don’t fret.
“Where…where…is Ashi?”
Sleep now, Jelena.
***
“Jelena, can you hear me?”
“Mmmmm.”
“Jelena, it’s me. Time to wake up, love.”
“Ashi?”
“Yes, love. Wake up, now.”
Jelena opened her eyes. Ashinji looked down at her, smiling, as beautiful as an angel. “How long have I been asleep?”
“Eleven days.”
“Eleven…is it over? Did we…”
“It is and we did.”
“Oh.” Jelena pondered for a moment what that meant, then turned her mind inward, searching.
The blue fire was gone.
***
On the twelfth day of Monzen, three days after the army returned to Sendai, the Rites for the Dead were sung in the Royal Chapel of Sendai Castle for Raidu Onjara and Sadaiyo Sakehera.
After the High Priest and Priestess had consecrated the bodies, an honor guard carried each man to his own funeral pyre. The pyres stood side by side in the courtyard of the chapel, the prince’s a spear’s length higher than Sadaiyo’s.
Each man’s father lit his own son’s pyre and as the flames consumed the kindling and roared to life, a chorus of clerics raised their voices in a hymn to speed the departed souls to the bosom of The One.
Though still weak from her ordeal, Jelena insisted on accompanying the rest of the family to the funeral. As Sen and Amara’s daughter-in-law, she wanted to show her support for them in their time of mourning; as Raidu’s cousin, she also wished to stand with her uncle and aunt, the new rulers of Alasiri.
Throughout the service, Ashinji betrayed no outward sign of his emotional turmoil. Jelena felt his terrible sorrow through the mental link they shared, and the tears she shed fell for him and no one else.
That night, both families came together to share a quiet repast and memories of happier times.
The following morning, the morticians collected the charred remains, pulverized them then sealed them into ornate urns. Raidan car
ried Raidu’s urn down to the tomb complex beneath the chapel where generations of Onjaras slept in dusty silence, then laid his son to rest.
Sen and Amara had Sadaiyo’s urn packed in a sturdy hardwood box for the journey home to Kerala. Sen wanted to depart before the end of the month, in order to get home in time to try to salvage the last of the spring planting.
***
Two days after Raidu and Sadaiyo’s funeral rites, the royal morticians brought King Keizo’s body up from the crypt where he had been placed in a temporary coffin until the return of his brother, then laid the king out on the main altar of the chapel. Multiple preservation spells had kept the body from immediate decay, but over two weeks had passed since the king’s death and even the most potent preservation spell had its limits; for this reason Raidan ordered that the corpse remain shrouded.
The sun rose and set three times and still, the line of folk waiting to pay their final respects to their deceased king did not abate. City folk and farmers from the countryside, minor nobility and merchants, laborers and off-duty soldiers, okui and hikui alike; all stood united in their collective grief. All believed the king had died of the plague—Raidan decided it served no purpose to allow the people to know the truth of Keizo’s death.
As for the fate of Sonoe, the King’s Companion, the official version of events stated she had perished while taking part in the magical defense of Alasiri, and that her body had not been recovered.
When Jelena learned of Sonoe’s betrayal and the circumstances of her death, she cried, not for the betrayal itself, but for the lost soul of the woman she called her friend. Even though she knew everyone else involved disagreed, Jelena chose to believe the friendship she had shared with her father’s consort had been genuine, at least on some level. Sonoe had fallen under the control of an entity whose corrupting power had proven impossible to resist. Jelena remained convinced her friend had been a victim of the Nameless One, just as she, herself had almost been.
Jelena chose to forgive Sonoe, and in doing so, she let go of the terrible hurt Sonoe’s betrayal had caused.
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