Page 137 of An Archer's Reckoning

“Well, I drew magic from a place not unlike the river of power below where the tower stood. One of the Mages who survived can duplicate food once it’s baked, so I drew power from the current and enhanced his efforts.”

“Huh.” I had no idea what he’d just said. “That’s great, but we have several hundred thousand people to feed.”

Declan shrugged. “It took about five minutes to create this cart of bread. We won’t make anyone fat, but no one should starve before supplies begin arriving from the coastal towns and border nations. It’s a good start.”

“It’s better than good. It’samazing.” I couldn’t stop staring at my brother. My hands found Declan’s shoulders. “I’m so proud of you, Dec.”

Normally, Declan would’ve fired off any number of witty rejoinders, but my voice broke midsentence, stilling his sharp tongue.

“Thanks,” came out as a hoarse whisper.

Ridley shattered our moment, his mouth stuffed and chewing. “None of that in front of the men. Can’t have them all going soft!”

Declan laughed, but his gaze lingered, and his mouth quirked in a smile as I stepped back.

“It’s a start, Kee. We’ll keep them safe—you and me. I promise.”

A false spring day visited Saltstone as temperatures crept upward and untrodden snow turned to slush. I stood in Captain-Commander Albius’s office at parade rest before his desk, my hands clasped firmly behind my back.

“Commander, it’s time. With the weather turning, the bodies won’t stay frozen much longer,” I said, barely recognizing my own voice.

Albius glowered, then lowered his head into his dry, weathered hands. “Fine. Tonight.”

“I’ll see it done, sir.”

With a dismissive wave from my leader, I left and issued orders to Guardsmen and messengers. The rest of the day was spent gathering remaining bodies in preparation for the city’s massive memorial. Cartloads of wood from condemned homesand buildings were transformed into a sea of pyres. Everyone dreaded the event but knew it was a vital step to honoring the dead and allowing all of us to move forward.

That evening, an hour before sundown, thousands gathered in the fields on the western side of Saltstone where Kingdom soldiers had once stood in ranks of locked shields. Row upon row of pyres stood silently in the dying light of day. My men reported more than ten thousand bodies lay atop the pyres, with tens of thousands more having been burned outside the walls.

Atikus stood between his two adopted sons on a wooden platform that rose ten feet above the ground. His deep-blue robes lined with double gold billowed in the wind. Declan’s tunic glowed a faint gold as the Phoenix blazed brightly on his chest. I didn’t have a clean uniform and didn’t care. I spent the week mired in blood and tears, shoulder to shoulder with my men and my people. I wanted them to see my pain and to share theirs. My face was smeared with dirt and grime from the grim day’s work.

Captain-Commander Albius stood to the side of the platform, allowing the new Arch Mage to preside. Atikus was the only member of the new Triad chosen thus far.

Ayden stood to the right of Albius, his green cloak and fiery hair fluttering in the breeze.

Atikus stepped forward and scanned the sea of humanity gathered before him. More than a hundred thousand, with even more filling around the edges, stood in silence.

Atikus tapped a ruby set in the side of an ornate silver box. Magic flared to amplify his voice.

“My dear family,” he intoned, his voice rich and deep. “We have suffered grievous loss this winter. Our city lies ruined and burned. Our fathers and mothers, our brothers and sisters, our husbands and wives—ourchildren. . .” His voice caught.

“Our children lie before us. There is not a single soul in Saltstone who has not borne loss, who is not grieving, whoseheart is not broken. Today, we honor those who fought to protect us and those we could not protect. We honor the men of the army and of the Guard. We honor the Mages, the Merchants, the leaders and followers. We honor all who stood and died so we might live.”

An elderly woman’s sob caught his attention. My eyes widened as I recognized a shopkeeper’s wife. Her husband had stayed to protect their shop, their life’s work. She lost both.

“My dear child, we grieve with you. We honor your husband, too,” Atikus’s words echoed my heart’s thoughts.

Atikus swallowed hard and continued. “Behind me lies our hearts, for I know mine will feel the fire when it is lit. It will smolder until only shards remain. How can it not in the face of such loss?” Declan wiped his eyes as Atikus did the same. “But before me . . . before me liesour soul, the soul of Saltstone and our beloved Melucia. We honor those behind tonight, as is right. Tomorrow . . . tomorrow and every day henceforth, we must commit to honor each other, to honor the living, to lift ourselves in service. Together, wewillrebuild this city, not to restore buildings of wood or stone, but to resurrect our hearts and to remember, every day, that we are blessed by the Spirits themselves and live in their Light.”

Atikus turned and nodded.

Declan allowed his tunic to flare brightly, a beacon of hope, then turned toward the pyres. He called a trickle of air and directed it to carry flame from every torch into the sea of pyres. The first bier lit, then the rest in rapid succession.

The popping and snapping of flame and wood was as deafening as the people’s silence.

No one moved.

They held breaths, save those failing to restrain tears.

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