Page 62 of Mountain of Mirrors and Starlight
The horses had run off, as had one or two of the wargis, but he was impressed that she’d stayed. Most cats would have vanished.
“Is everyone all right?” Minerva asked, glancing around the ruined glade. “Confirm your survival, and report your injuries.”
“Your arm is hanging off, dear,” Bell pointed out.
“Only the metal one. Are you fine?”
Bell sighed. “Alive, a few cuts, nothing major.”
“I’m all right,” Luna reported. “I stayed out of it, mostly.”
“Sensible.”
“I live,” added Diana. “Broken fingers. Bruised ribs.”
“I’ll get to you,” Flora responded. “I’m fine. Mags?”
She nodded, not looking at anyone, already searching through the wreckage to retrieve her things.
“Fort?” Minerva called. “Has anyone seen Fort?”
They all shook their heads.
A coldness rippled through the glade. They split off, diving into the trees, searching beneath the fallen giants and a body of one of the wargis. They called her name. Beau, unable to stand, prayed for her answering call, however weak, however faint. Just a little bit longer, and he’d be able to heal her. Just a little bit…
“I’ve found her,” said Minerva, voice stony.
The others turned to her still, stalwart shoulders. She stood beside a fallen tree.
Fort was not beside it. For the longest time, Beau wasn’t even sure what Minerva was talking about. She was mistaken. No one was there.
He followed Minerva’s gaze down to the forest floor, past the leaves and broken boughs. A hand reached out beneath the branches, bent and crushed, cards splayed out beside it.
They took Fort’s body to another glade, away from the carcasses of the giants that would rot and wither, and buried her beneath the boughs of a tree. Beau was unable to help them build a grave with magic, but he felt that they wouldn’t have wanted him to assist anyway. This was something they wanted to do for her.
The last thing that they would ever do for her.
They spoke only a few words as they lowered her into the ground. They seemed to be beyond words right now. Minerva told her to rest, Magna spoke a few words with her fingers, and everyone else cried. At the end, they all drew their daggers, and offered the earth a single drop of blood from the back of their hands.
“Our blood to the earth that holds you,” Minerva whispered, as Bell helped her with her offering. “May you carry it with you. May it protect your grave. Return to the stone, sister.”
Beau watched the spectacle and felt a similar grief for this stranger that he had felt when Cass died. Once more, he had not seen it, once more, he had not been able to help. There was no telling if Fort had died immediately. If he’d seen it, if he’d been more aware of everything that was happening, he could have gotten the tree off of her. He could have healed her. He could have—
Could, could, could.
He would never know.
They did not rest for long afterwards, no longer than it took to treat injuries, collect belongings, and remove Minerva’s ruined arm when Magna declared it was too damaged to fix in the field. It was decided it was best to keep moving towards Winter, hoping that Aislinn would have transported them somewhere closer, not further away. Both she and Caer knew the rough direction. They would head that way too.
One by one, all the remaining wargis trickled back. They found Snapdragon’s body to the north. He’d taken an injury to his left flank and fled until his body collapsed, the mighty mount that had been Aislinn’s trusted stead for almost five years. There was nothing to be done. They salvaged belongings from the saddles, and plodded onwards.
Beau’s horse they never found at all.
The slopes of Winter glittered in the distance when they decided to rest for the night. Beau stared back into the trees, thinking of all that they left behind.
Anawful,wrenching,suckingsensation dragged Caer from the glade and spat him out elsewhere, gripping tightly onto Aislinn. Roots were still twined around his ankles, but sliced off after a few inches, like they were butter against a blade. Caerwyn glimpsed them dangling as they raced throughnothing.
Leaves whipped around them, followed by an icy, devastating chill—
