Several familiar faces had congregated around her body to mourn as the afternoon sun sank in the sky. I must have knelt there for hours. My legs ached. “What have we done?” I asked no one in particular, my voice hoarse.
No response was given. One by one they reached out and laid a hand gently upon her body. Alesian and gezgin, Freyjan and peasant alike, they paid their homage. Henry and Will, Amita and Izikiel, all knelt in the mud beside me with what remained of our refugee militia.
“We have done battle,” rumbled a brusque voice from behind me. I looked up to see Brenna scowling down at me. “She died with honor. Don’t take that from her, Tuvrian.”
The Freyjan General wrenched me to my feet and held me upright while the feeling returned to my legs. As soon as I was able, I turned to the gathered crowd to reclaim Elivya from them, madness nipping at the fringe of my mind. She was mine. Give her back to me. Don’t touch her. My eyes met a dozen others, all glistening with sorrow as they offered her with reverent hands. They had wrapped her in the soiled emerald banner, the bloodstained stallion draped across her chest. Will retrieved her sword and dagger, his wretched face twisted in a stark mirror of my own. He limped heavily, a deep gash in one leg that had been hastily bandaged with a scrap of Persican banner.
Brenna’s heavy hand found my shoulder. “The manor’s been cleared. We’ll bury her in the garden, beneath the Lazerin Oak.”
“No,” I heard my own hollow voice protest. “She wanted…” The words faltered, that last night beside the fire scouring my heart. “She wanted to burn, like her parents.” It was sacrilege, but it was the last thing Elivya had asked of me, and I would see it done.
It took some time, during which Will and I sat miserably on the ground keeping a grim vigil over her bundled corpse. Lord Reyus came upon us as he surveyed the battlefield. When he saw her, the blood drained from his face.
“Ah, damn it, girl.” I watched his throat work, fighting to suppress his grief as he knelt to brush the hair from her closed eyes.
“A pyre has been laid,” Brenna said gently, returning to us.
It took every ounce of my resolve, but with Will’s help, I gathered her once again in my arms and turned to follow the Freyjan general back toward the tree line. Though our tents still lay hidden within the forest, the entirety of the army lingered just beyond the battlefield. Amita and the others had left us to establish a makeshift field hospital on the open grass. Those whose wounds were minor sat in clusters on the ground or wandered the field, scavenging or searching for comrades.
To one side, a pyre had been hastily constructed of broken siege weapons, enemy shields, and other various bits of wood from the forest nearby. The path to it was marked by soldiers and refugees alike, torches in hand as dusk fell over Laezon. Hundreds of eyes watched as we passed, and I couldn’t rightly tell if their deference was for her or the generals leading our grim procession. Helms were tucked under arms, the occasional fist pressed to a chest, watching silently as I stumbled across the field after Brenna and Reyus. Every step was agony, Elivya’s plate cumbersome, and my own exhaustion combined with my grief threatened to send me back to my knees. We were upon the pyre before I was aware, and I hesitated several paces away. I can’t.
My feet took the first, last step, and then the second. This isn’t happening. Another step. Just a horrible dream. The final step came and went, and I stood before the pyre. I can still save her. A pile of tattered banners covered the rushes, several white flags of the Origin among them, and I finally understood why she wanted to burn. She’s going to find them. My mouth curled in a grimace of bitter sorrow at the revelation. Only she would forsake the far shore for a chance to spit at the feet of a foreign god. Only that stubborn, proud, reckless girl would rather follow her family into hell.
It took all of my remaining strength to place her carefully in the midst of her offerings, rosemary and wildflowers ringing the pyre bed. Her emerald standard shimmered in the torchlight. I positioned her bundled mass as Will laid her sword at her side. When he moved to place her dagger, I caught his wrist and took it from him. I needed something, anything, to hold on to her.
I will kill him, Quintin. Her voice echoed in my memory.
Solomon. That, I could do. Taking life was the one thing I was very, very good at. I could take one more, for her. I would bury that knife in his heart for her.
Someone pressed a torch into my open hand. I hesitated, staring at her face, willing myself to wake from the nightmare. Stars began to light the sky, crickets began to chirp in the grass, and Elivya was still dead. Abandoning all hope, I put the torch to her pyre and watched her burn.
ELIVYA
I stood atop a great stone tower, the wind a torrent of ice whipping through my hair and the thin muslin of my gown. Behind me lay stairs, but I knew I could not descend them, could not return the way I’d come. The pinnacle upon which I stood was ringed in fragile columns and broad windows stretching from cracking floor to crumbling roof. The edge called to me, a siren song accompanied by the persistent press of the wind at my back, growing stronger, ever stronger. I stumbled to one of the windows, bare feet slapping the cold stones, frozen fingers clutching at the columns.
A dead city sprawled below me, decaying buildings cascading down the side of the snow-dusted mountain. Bridges and spires, workshops and great halls, all lay abandoned. Dead trees twisted their bare ivory branches toward a sky that lacked any color. Directly below I spotted the glisten of water, the only sign of life in sight: a fountain. At its back stood a statue, but I could not make out its form from above. I leaned forward in an attempt to make out its features. The wind encouraged, pushing. Only a little farther, it urged. Then a great gust whipped through the tower and my fingers slipped from the marble column.
My feet met air. I screamed without making a sound, falling toward the water. Too shallow. Too far. I will surely die. The fountain’s pool grew ever closer, rushing up to meet me. I turned to see the sky one last time, only that too offered no comfort with its empty grayness, so I closed my eyes to await the end.
That moment lasted an eternity. I watched countless lives of people I’d never met.
A woman drenched in sweat and blood labored in the birthing bed. With a great cry, she slid the babe from her womb. A faceless crone brought the child to her breast, but at skin’s first touch, all light left the woman’s eyes and I knew her to be dead. I wept within my silent darkness for a lifetime.
I saw young smith’s apprentice longing for a glassblower’s daughter. She had ribbons in her hair. He came to her in the market, their exchanges silence to my ears. In secret, a priest of Adulil bound their hands before a great tree. Her father roared and cursed them both. They gathered their belongings and fled. Bandits came upon them on the road. I raged silently and could do nothing.
Two boys scoured the streets of Litheria, rags and dirt their only possessions. They stole meat pies and apples. They protected each other, warned of shopkeepers and city guard, stood up to other bands of street children, or ran. Years went by. They loved, endured, survived, watched in fear as a great wave of soldiers in white armor marched into the city. They woke in the night to the door of their shanty being smashed in. Hands dragged them naked and screaming from the bed they shared, beat them with mailed fists, strung them from horses, set fire to their hard-won home.
I railed and screamed in silence.
I stood more than once upon the bloodied fields of Istra, watching from beneath banners both white and black, and died a half-dozen deaths.
At long last, I felt the end rushing up to meet me, and then a great pressure as my descent was slowed. My eyes opened before a face so bright I thought I would surely be blinded. Androgynous, it glowed with a golden light so pale it was almost silver. Great wings like flowing bolts of the finest silk gauze fluttered impossibly slowly behind him - her? My feet met the water, crisp life flooding around my ankles. Entranced by the great figure before me, half again as tall as me and moving with impo
ssible grace, I collapsed to my knees in the shallow pool, naked as my name day. He she reached a hand down and cradled my chin, smiling. Indescribable love poured into me from those infinite eyes, streams of tears rushing down my cheeks.
“Not yet.” The voice was life and sunlight and spun gold and the ocean in a single sound, the first sound I’d heard in a hundred lifetimes. It boomed in my ears, resonated in my bones, filling me completely, body and soul. It hurt.
He she reached behind to one of the fluttering silken wings and, with a single fingertip, sliced a length from it. Immediately replaced by the infinite golden aura, the ethereal fabric was gently wrapped about me as if bundling an infant, lifting me to my feet. My eyes never left his her eyes, the silk warm against my skin.
“Rise.”
The heat grew with the volume of the voice.
“Rise!”
The sound vibrated through my body until I thought I would burst from the inside.
“RISE.”
I burned.
Ash. I was covered in it. The sensation of my body was novel, every muscle, every inch of skin a riot of overwhelming intensity. The smells of smoke and rosemary filled the air, assailing my nose with even more incomprehensible information. The dawn had just begun to peek over the horizon as I rose to my knees, black dust wafting off me in a cascade. I knelt amidst a pile of charred wood remnants and ashes. Fingertips grazed the nearest crumbling cinders in wonderment. Wind – wind! – rustled my hair. I shuddered beneath my silken cloak, every inch of me overcome with sensation after a hundred lifetimes in the silent darkness.
A rustle nearby drew me from my reverie. Before me, not ten feet away, stood Quintin. Hollow eyes met mine, brows knit in disbelief, as though he observed a cruel jape. He shook his head once, just barely, before stumbling toward me and falling to his knees, sending a fresh cloud of ash into the air. One hesitant hand extended toward my face. I reached out from beneath my shroud to meet his fingers with my own. The barest graze of flesh resonated through me, a rippling echo of life and sunlight and spun gold and the ocean. Such a touch… only the gods should know such power. In a rush, he gathered me in a desperate embrace, clutching me to his chest as tightly as the silk that had bound and burned me.
Others soon gathered, shouts reverberating through the camp like waves. Quintin pulled me to my feet, keeping me close as I clutched my silken wrap. Those gathered stood in hushed awe, eyes locked on me. Warmth splashed across my cheek, drawing my gaze. Dawn. My feet moved of their own accord, carrying me out of my guardian’s embrace and across the field toward the crest of a nearby hill. As I passed, onlookers reached out to touch me, their hands brushing my shroud, pressing my naked flesh beneath. I barely noticed. The sun. The sun was rising. I had to greet it. I climbed to the height of the ridge, others following. Quintin stepped up beside me.
Together we stood, welcoming the dawn.
Chapter 24
I don’t know,” I replied for the hundredth time. Seated at the head of my family’s dining table, the faces around me stared expectantly. They’d been asking the same questions for hours. I rubbed my face. The delirium of my foray into the dead city had, for the most part, cleared from my head, though what remained was far from lucid. Unfortunately, it also left me with a lot of questions and absolutely no answers. “I’ve told you everything I saw.”
“You were dead, little thorn,” General Brenna pressed gently. “I’ve seen my share of corpses.”
“We burned you,” Reyus insisted, his pale green eyes hovering between disbelief and fear.
“I think Lady Lazerin is in need of a rest.” Izikiel stood from his seat, watching me with sympathy.
To my great relief, they relented. I stood in my woolen dress, snatching the pile of white silk gauze from the table and taking my leave. Quintin followed at a discreet distance as I fled to the garden and sat on the grass, staring up at my family’s Great Oak. The first leaves of spring filled the vast canopy with a smattering of bright green, back-lit by the afternoon sun.
I heard Izikiel’s voice somewhere near the garden entrance. “Give us a moment, son.”
Boot steps retreated into the house and his pale green robes rustled the grass as he approached. Old joints creaked as he sank down cross-legged onto the ground beside me. As I turned toward him, he favored me with a gentle smile. His sonorous voice wove through my bones like a salve.
“Perhaps if we spoke of it, it might help.”
I shook my head. “She didn’t tell me anything, if it was actually the Mother I saw.” I looked to the pile of silk in my lap. It shimmered as it pooled, pouring through my fingers like water. “She just told me it wasn’t my time. I don’t even know what I’m supposed to do with this.”
He tilted his head, considering the fabric in my hands. “Why must it have a purpose? Perhaps it was just a means to return you to this side of the veil.”
I hadn’t thought of that. “How did I burn, but not burn?” I asked, my voice sounding childish and frightened in my own ears. “How am I here, Izikiel?”
He met my gaze with his own, wrinkled face beaming at me with kindness. “Your task is not done. Whoever met you on the far shore sent you back to us.”
“To put Selice back on the throne?” I pressed, desperate for answers of my own.
“I don’t know, child.” He shook his head. “But I imagine even the gods have battles, fighting one another for dominion over men. Perhaps you are meant to restore the balance.”
For the thousandth time in my life, I felt small and wholly inadequate. “I failed to protect my family, my House, my people. Hundreds have died following my lead.” Shaking my head, I gasped a humorless laugh. “I am the last person in the world to be relied upon by anyone.”
“Life is not simply black and white, failure and success, dear girl.” His sad smile stymied my mounting guilt. “Your family was taken from you, and for that, I have no words of comfort. Some losses stay with us always.” One warm hand found mine and squeezed, reminding me with a pang of my mother. “But House Lazerin yet stands, and there are thousands of people who are alive today because of you. Every soldier in that fort, every person you led into the forest, every village you warned to flee.”
I swallowed, meeting his eyes. “And my cavalry?”
There were no words to redeem that awful truth. “Some lessons demand a steep cost.”
My young standard-bearer’s face swam in my memory. He had been someone’s son. Another mother would mourn the loss of her child because of me, and I didn’t even know his name. I drew my knees up, hugging them to my chest.
“Too many, Izikiel.” I ran one hand through my hair. “There are too many faces, now. I can’t carry them all.” In the heat of battle, I’d lost count; not only the faces of those struck down by my arrows, but also those who I’d lead to their deaths.
“Perhaps you should speak to your Tuvrian about that,” he suggested gently.
“He is afraid of me, I think.” I couldn’t help but laugh bitterly at the thought. After first finding me amid the ashes, he’d kept a careful and silent distance. “Like everyone else.”
He chuckled and shrugged. “Give them time. It is not every day they see someone return from the dead.” I released my legs and leaned back on my palms, staring up into the canopy. I could feel him watching me. “Do you know the story of your namesake?”
“Father told me, once.” I could still hear his voice, spinning the tale as he had all the others, in his deep and gentle tone. Hundreds of years before my birth, great fires had swept Laezon. As the flames roared across the fields toward our estate, the original Elivya fen Lazerin took our herd to the river and covered them with soaked canvas. Blinded to the dangers around, there the beasts waited as she made trip after trip to the paddocks to save as many as she could. More likely, she had help from her staff, but so the story goes. The manor and the rest of the herd had burned, but those she had led to the river survived, and saved the legacy of our House.
“You have the same kind of courage,” he reassured gently. “Perhaps that is why She chose you.”
“Then why can’t I feel it?” I argued, mind tumbling through the mess of what was left of me, what had risen from the pyre. Among the chaos that writhed beneath my skin, courage was markedly absent. Surely, such a thing would be woven into the fabric of my being. Instead, when I wasn’t determinedly hollow or consumed by my anger, I was filled with fear. When I told him as much, he merely smiled, wise eyes crinkling.
“Fear and courage are as linked as the sun and moon. You cannot have one without the other.”
I thought about that long after he left. Whatever the reason for my rebirth, all I could do was follow the path before me.
One does not return from death unscathed. The wounds that felled me may have inexplicably scarred over between my death and rebirth, but I carried the weight of a hundred lives lived in silence within the tortured confines of my mind. Every loss, every joy, every death lingered like the threads of a dream upon waking, there but not. The more I tried to grasp them, to revisit them, the farther they slipped from my consciousness. Somewhere amid the fleeting memories lay the person I was before the battle. Slowly, agonizingly, I began to piece together the scattered fragments that remained, seated for many hours on the grass before my family’s Great Oak. In time, the chaotic jumble of other lives faded like so much mist in the morning sun, leaving me with their echoing presence but without the cacophony of their memories.
In an effort to exhume myself from the smoldering cinders within, I made a concerted effort to resume my normal routine, with the exception of my morning drills. For many days, Quintin remained stiff and tight-lipped around me. I, in turn, avoided him. Strange air hung between us, a tension that had not existed before. It hurt, but I understood. The eyes that looked back at me in the mirror were not mine. Whatever had happened to me had changed me. Within their dark green pools, a ring of gold surrounded each pupil like a sunburst. It was unsettling, to say the least. I thought of Selice and wished she were there.
A Crown of Lilies Page 51
