Page 26 of HeartTorn

Elydark’s shadow falls across me.Vellar,his voice sings into my head,did you hear it? Did you hear the song they shared?

I turn my head sharply, scowling up at my licorneir.What were you thinking? You took her away from me! Did you not know what danger you’d put us both in?

Elydark drops his head. For possibly the first time in his existence, my licorneir looks ashamed.Forgive me, Vellar.I heard Nyathri, and I—

A jolt shoots through my body. I sit upright, turning to look behind me, back to the place where that hearttorn licorneir had stood. Nyathri? I’d not recognized her, burning and broken as she was. Of course Elydark would know her by her song, which I could not hear. But if that was Nyathri, then . . .

I’m on my feet the next moment, abandoning Ilsevel where she lies. Despite the tightening of thevelra,which does not want me to leave her side again so quickly, I press on, recovering the ground over which we’d been flung, my footsteps falling hard. I feel as though I carry a great weight on my shoulders. It only grows with each step I take nearer to that broken corpse, who lies with arms outspread beneath the twilit sky.

Ashika.

I stand over her, stare down into her dead face. Her head is half-severed from her shoulders, only hanging on by a few tendons, the spine completely broken. Her hair is matted with blood, her face drained of all life and vitality. And yet I still see her as I once knew her—my friend, my comrade-in-arms. Quick and wily Ashika, always keen to dash ahead on fleet-footed Nyathri, scouting out dangerous terrain and bringing swift reports. She was a seasoned warrior, one I was glad to have by my side on this campaign. She and her licorneir were as bonded as two souls can be.

My knees quake. It’s all I can do to stay upright, to keep myself from collapsing beside her corpse and gathering her in my arms. She would not like such emotive displays, however. I can almost hear her laughing voice in my ear even now:“Have a little dignity,luinar!For my sake if not your own.”

Elydark paces heavily to my side and bows his neck to hang his nose over my shoulder. I lean against his cheek, taking momentary comfort in his presence, in the knowledge that he and I have not had to face the torment ofvelrhoar.If only I had been quick enough to deal a death blow! In my fear for Ilsevel, I had been concerned only with preventing that flaming horn from piercing her breast. If I had realized, if I had known . . .

I shade my eyes and look out across the lonely landscape. She’s gone—Nyathri has vanished into the wild lands of Cruor. Her hearttorn state will make her vulnerable to thevardimnar.She will become as corrupt as Mahra and the other hearttorn licorneir who roam these lands, a lost and damned soul, forever separated from the light of Nornala and her eternal home.

Elydark’s song rumbles low and wordless in my chest. He was always drawn to Nyathri. There was a time when I wondered if the two of them might even form a bond of their own. Now that chance is lost, even as Nyathri herself is lost to the darkness which consumes her.

I’msorry, my friend,I say.

As am I,he replies heavily.I forgot myself and left you vulnerable. It was wrong of me. It will not happen again.

I forgive him, of course. We all do mad things in the face of heartbreak. It doesn’t make our bond any less true.

I look down at Ashika’s corpse once more, then turn slowly, searching the battlefield for others. There’s no denying what took place here: my people, continuing their journey to the Hidden City as commanded, were set upon by Shanaera and the Crimson Cloaks. Taken by surprise, they fought valiantly and . . . what? Did any of them survive? Or were they all slain like Ashika, only to have their corpses hauled away to be experimented on bynecroliphonmages? I force myself to look at Ashika’s wound again, her half-severed neck. Was this gruesome end ultimately what spared her the fate of her comrades? Was her corpse simply too damaged to be useful to the death mages?

I harden my jaw. They cannot all be dead. My warriors are fierce and dauntless, a force to be reckoned with anywhere in the Eledrian realms. Even taken by surprise, they would have fought valiantly. Surely some of them escaped.

“We must hasten on,”I say firmly. “We must find our people.”I do not say it, but no doubt Elydark hears the guilt ringing through my spirit.I should have been with them. I should have warned them, protected them. I should have died with them.There will be time enough for guilty wallowing later. Right now I must focus on what is and what can be done.

What of Ashika?Elydark asks.

My heart twists. I would like to sew her up in her cloak, lay her across Elydark’s flanks, and bring her back to her family for proper funeral rights, as befits a Licornyn warrior. But my licorneir, strong though he is, cannot bear two riders and a corpse all the long way across Cruor.

We will sing the song of parting here,I say,and do what we can for her soul. Then we must leave her to the grace of Nornala.

Elydark shakes his head, unhappy with this plan, but unable to offer an alternative. I set to work at once, arranging Ashika’s remains into a more peaceful pose. I close her eyes, use two stones to weigh down the eyelids, and angle her head so that the gash in her neck and shoulder is not quite so obvious. Crossing her hands over her chest, I bind them with a bit of twine to hold them in place. She looks almost peaceful now. At least there are no carrion birds left in this land to desecrate her body further. Perhaps she may rest easy here, until the goddess comes to claim her soul.

I wish I hadilsevelblossoms to lay upon her chest. Instead I simply sprinkle some of the dried petals from my pouch across her bloodless face, into the hollow of her throat, down to her stomach. As I do this, I begin to sing the song of parting—a song I have sung too many times over the years. A song I never had a chance to sing over Shanaera.“Alahir Nornala, rautha-almar. Alahir se Ashika, nei-almar lyar.”

Behold, Nornala, your warrior.

Behold Ashika, your daughter brave.

Elydark joins his voice with mine, his resonance a deep, droning support to the melody. I lean into his song, drawing strength from it, even when sorrow threatens to choke me with strangling fingers. I close my eyes, allow the song to move through me as it should, envision it pouring from my lips in a stream to cover Ashika, the only shroud she will ever know.

“Licor neir-nalas korval ei sonaum,”I sing.“Son elthari heileth ei idoroth.”

The songs of your Star Children will wake her no more.

Nor shall her friends cheer her from beyond the grave.

The words are ancient and yet new each time I’ve sung them—words I hope never to sing again, knowing always that I will have to, until the end of my days.

Another voice joins in. At first I hardly realize it, so subtly does it find its way into the harmonies of Elydark’s resonance. There are no words, but I feel a deepening of tone, of meaning, followed by an upward pull. It’s like my spirit, trapped here in this world of dirt and blood and despair, is beckoned suddenly to lift its gaze, to look upward into a brightness and bigness it had all but forgotten. I almost resist—part of me doesn’t want to remember, wants to remain here where the grief is thick and clinging and all too familiar. But that new voice continues to ascend, higher and higher, and I cannot help but go with it.

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