The Road to Death

35

Alone in the stables, Sallah knelt down in front of Brendis’s body and wept. The corpse lay there still half covered in hay, the top half twisted back at an awkward angle to expose its face. It wore only a thin set of undergarments worn to gray after repeated washings in open streams.

It comforted Sallah to think of the body as an “it.” Brendis’s spirit had long since fled, she knew—or been forced out at the hands of that changeling bitch. Perhaps it had already joined in eternal communion with the Silver Flame, yet another in the infinite number of burning tongues of argent fire merged with the great god to whom she had dedicated her life. It dulled the edge of the pain that lanced through her soul, but not by much.

Sallah had known loss in her life. Her mother had died when she was but a girl. With her extended family off fighting the Last War for Thrane, she’d lived with the threat of bereavement hanging over her head like a sword on a slender thread for years.

To her, it had always seemed that the only way to deal with this ever-present threat was to confront it, so she had petitioned to be admitted to the Knights of the Silver Flame as soon as she could. As one of the youngest squires in the church, she had served as both swordbearer and mascot, but as the years passed she grew to be one of the order’s most promising young knights.

Living in the shadow of her father, Deothen, had never been easy. As a father, he’d made a great commander. From as early as she could remember, he’d always treated her like a little soldier. Was it any wonder that she’d grown up into one?

As a Knight of the Silver Flame, Deothen had become a legend in his own time. No one in Thrane could not know who he was, and that fame extended to his daughter by proximity, whether she deserved it or not. Everyone had always had high expectations of Sallah, and she’d done her best to live up to them, never questioning why. She saw it as her duty.

Sallah pulled the body that had once housed Brendis’s soul from under the hay. She pulled one of its arms over her shoulder and carried it that way out of the stables. When she emerged with the corpse in her arms, Berre stood there waiting for her.

“I’ve already set a detail to digging a grave,” the dwarf said. “Do you have any special instructions we need to know of?”

Sallah shook her head. “Just show me where to bring the body. I’ll take care of the rest.”

Berre stepped up under Brendis’s other arm and offered the corpse what support she could. Then she pointed toward a patch of open ground along the fort’s western wall, and the two dragged the body to it.

The patch already featured a handful of headstones, low, stone markers on each of which a name had been chiseled. The ground here was the only section of the fort’s yard in which grass of any kind grew, the rest of the well-trodden ground nothing but hard-packed dirt. The grass grew thick under the headstones. Only the section where two men worked was broken. It had been a long time since someone else had died here—or at least someone who warranted a burial.

Sallah noticed that the two soldiers digging the grave bore flesh on their bones. “I’m surprised,” she said as she and Berre lowered the corpse to the ground beside the deepening grave. “I thought you’d have put some of your skeletons to such a task.”

One of the men in the hole, a red-faced fellow with dark, receding hair, snorted at that. “This is hallowed ground, miss,” he said. “Those clothes racks can’t come near here.”

Sallah sighed in relief. She’d feared having to leave her friend in an unprotected grave. With all the undead creatures running around this place, she worried that some Karrnathi necromancer might see Brendis’s body as fodder for King Kaius’s forces. While Brendis’s spirit might be beyond insult, his earthly form deserved a better, more peaceful fate than that.

The lady knight looked down at both of the men in the hole and said, “You have my thanks.”

As Sallah gazed down at the corpse of her friend, her brother in arms, she realized that something was missing. “I’ll be right back,” she said to no one in particular, then stalked back toward the infirmary.

When she entered the room, Kandler was on his way out. Without a word, he took her in his arms again. She held him tight for a moment, thankful to have someone she could look to in this terrible time. He may not have been a Knight of the Silver Flame or even a member of her church, but she knew he was a good man. She could feel herself falling for him, but she stayed wary of such things. Alone, hundreds of miles from home, grieving for both friends and her father, she knew she was vulnerable.

She surprised herself by not crying another drop. She had wept enough for today, it seemed. She had a job to do—burying Brendis—and she refused to let her emotions get in the way of that.

“Don’t kill her,” Kandler said. “We need her.”

“Where are you headed?”

“To find some chains.” He kissed her once on the forehead and strode off.

The lady knight took a moment to compose herself then walked into the infirmary. Burch still sat there, perched in the windowsill. Sallah couldn’t help but remember when she’d first met the shifter, how he’d sat the same way in the front window of Kandler’s house. She was tempted to smile.

Then she spied Te’oma lying in a bed on the other side of the room, and the temptation faded away. She crossed over to the changeling, who cringed as she neared. The temptation returned, stronger than ever.

Sallah reached down and plucked up Brendis’s sword, which lay on the bed nearest to Te’oma. It felt warm and comforting in her hands, as if she somehow had managed to recover a vital part of her lost compatriot.

Then she glared over at the changeling. “Take off his things,” she said. “Now.”

Te’oma opened her mouth to protest but no words came out. She climbed out on the other side of the bed from Sallah and stripped off Brendis’s tabard and armor, leaving herself in nothing more than a pitch-colored shift so black her skin glowed white in contrast. She lay them on the bed before her and then backed off so that Sallah could snatch them away.

“I didn’t kill him,” the changeling said. “Ibrido was just supposed to …” The look on Sallah’s face made her falter.

“I don’t care whose hands held the straps that strangled him,” the lady knight said. “You’re responsible just the same.”

She turned and left before the changeling could respond, before she let her see again how much she hurt.

Kandler met her at the door. “Hold on,” he said, hefting a set of manacles and a collar connected with thick chains.

Sallah waited while the justicar went into the room and put the changeling in irons while Burch stood guard. No one said a word.

Kandler emerged from the room, looking grim.

“Do you think that will hold her?” Sallah asked.

He shrugged. “It’s the best we can do for now.”

With that, he took Brendis’s things from her, except for his sword, which she cradled in her arms like a lost child. She led him down the stairs toward the fresh-dug grave.

One of the Karrnathi soldiers waved to them as they approached. “Just about finished,” he said, leaning on his dirt-crusted shovel. “It’s always slow going at the end. When you get so deep, only one man can work the hole.”

Clods of broken earth arced up out of the grave at a steady rhythm, falling near the first soldier’s feet. The sound and scent comforted Sallah somehow, as part of the ritual to acknowledge the end of a friend’s life. She’d been to too many funerals, she knew, but it didn’t seem like that would end any time soon.

As she and Kandler stood there, Berre strode over from where dozens of skeletons seemed to have redoubled their efforts to get Phoenix ready to fly. Sallah watched as a crew used a giant block and tackle to hoist the airship’s repaired rudder back into place.

“She should be set to go by dawn,” Berre said. “Any idea where you’re taking her?”

“She’s ours to take?” Kandler asked.

The Captain of Bones nodded. “When we found it, Esprë was at the wheel. You’re her next-of-kin, right? It’s yours to return to her.”

Berre sighed. “I’d send some troops with you, but I’m bound to have enough trouble here without wasting resources on what Korth could only see as a wild goose chase.”

“Wouldn’t Kaius want his airship back?”

“It’s gone. Even were Ito commandeer Phoenix to go after her, I wouldn’t know where she’s fled.” She narrowed her eyes and lowered her voice. “So don’t you tell me.”

Kandler lowered his head for a moment. “Thank you.”

The chunks of earth stopped coming, and a shovel followed them, landing atop the mound of fresh dirt. A hand came reaching up after that, and the soldier above helped pull his friend from the hole. As he dusted himself off, the soldier gave Sallah and Kandler a solemn nod.

The soldiers had already laid Brendis’s body out on a tarpaulin nearby, with ropes slid under it so they could lower the corpse into the ground. Sallah knelt down and spread the young knight’s armor over him, then laid his tabard over that. Kandler helped her wrap the body in the canvas sheet.

When only Brendis’s head was left exposed, Sallah leaned over and kissed him on his pale forehead. Then she covered his face and stepped back so the soldiers could put him in his grave.

As Brendis’s body went into its final resting place, Sallah spoke. “By the grace of the Silver Flame, my brother, may you find peace in its warmth and illumination in its eternal presence.”

“Amen,” Kandler murmured, reaching for her. She turned in his strong arms and let him hold her as she wept what she promised herself would be the last tears for her fallen friends—at least until she completed their quest. Tomorrow, there would be no time for grief.