Page 171 of Of Blood & Stone

“You do.”

Sylzenya rejoined the entourage, talking with the Kreenas at the front of line. Kharis returned soon after with black blood dripping from his sword, the group welcoming him with hurrah’s and shouts of accomplishment.

“Take care of her, will you?” Theraden asked, his voice low and serious. “I just… I gave her away to someone who didn’t do that and… it kills me. Probably always will…”

His voice trailed off, his eyes becoming distant.

Elnok turned to him. “She forgives you, you know. And her mother too.”

“I know, it’s just… please.”

Elnok nodded. “I could promise to take care of her, but she’s pretty damn good at it herself. With or without me, she’d find her way.” Rubbing his neck, Elnok grinned. “But as long as I’m by her side, I’ll always be watching out for her, just like she’ll be doing for me.”

Theraden cracked a smile, patting his shoulder. “You’re a good man, Elnok. Thank you—for everything.”

Elnok couldn’t stop the warmth inside his chest from blooming through his limbs.

A good man.

Never in his life had he considered himself such a thing. He still wouldn’t, but he liked the idea.

Elnok stopped in front of the stone drawbridge. Kharis had ushered him to the front, Sylzenya as well. He hadn’t seen Vutror’s drawbridge in ten years—hadn’t been anywhere near Vutror since his escape.

Sylzenya laced her fingers with his.

“You’ll be alright,” she whispered.

His throat bobbed as he gave a slight nod.

“We sent someone ahead to let them know of our arrival,” Kharis said, returning from talking to the guard, “they’ll let us through when they’re ready.”

Waiting felt like an eternity.

Finally, the drawbridge creaked and yawned, lowering slowly until it thudded against the dry ground. Sylzenya squeezed his hand.

The sunlight burst forth as they passed through, entering the kingdom’s walkway. Gray stone buildings lined the path, their window panes full of dust and debris.

Doors slowly opened, people stepping out of their homes and exiting their vendor stands, swarming at the entrance of the kingdom. Elnok stared at them all. A small rumble of conversation slowly built into shouts before erupting into cheers and applause.

Elnok’s mouth gaped, his hands shaking.

Small pieces of colored paper sailed through the air, falling onto his hair and face. He looked up. People threw confetti from their windowsills, chanting his name over and over again.

But then, the crowd slowly parted before him—all the air in his lungs left him. Walking towards him was the familiar mop of brown hair and warm eyes of his friend.

Orym spread his arms wide, wearing a broad smile.

Warm tears spilled down Elnok’s face. Sylzenya let go of his hand, and he rushed for him. Orym ran for him as well. They collided, the force almost knocking both of them off their feet. Elnok crumpled Orym’s tunic into his hands, sobbing into his shoulder.

“You made it back in one piece,” Orym said over the cheering, his voice wavering from sobs, “And with quite the entrance, I must say.”

“How?” Elnok said, leaning back, staring at his perfectly healthy friend. “I thought… you should bedead.”

“Wow, those are your first words to me?” Orym jested. “Shouldn’t they be something more like,I missed you Orym, or, wow,look how handsome you got while I was away.”

“Fuck you.” Elnok laughed, hugging him again, “Ididmiss you. But how are you not sick anymore?”

“No one’s sick anymore,” Orym replied. “No one in Vutror; no one in the nearest fishing village. Everyone’s been cured.”

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