Page 144 of Swords of Soul and Shadow
His grief crashed in like a tidal wave, battering him senselessly. He clung to his mother and lost himself to the drowning abyss full of loss, frustration, and guilt. Jove didn’t realize he had so many tears built up, but they flowed like a river through a burst dam.
His mother held him and stroked his hair. “I know. Just let it out.”
His body was weak from lack of proper nutrition and sitting around waiting for rescue day after day. He no longer had the strength to do anything but sob.
He was nearly twenty-six, for stars-sake. He was a man. He shouldn’t be spilling his emotions like this.
He couldn’t help it. And now that it’d started, he couldn’t seem to stop it.
Because at the end of the day, there was only one person he could blame. Himself.
He didn’t know just how long they stood there, him soaking his mother’s shoulder, but it was so long that he finally cried himself dry. His eyes physically hurt from producing so many tears.
His mother had stood there the entire time, holding him, rubbing his back, her own tears staining his shirt, though hers had been more subdued and ladylike.
She clasped his upper arms and pulled back. “It’s going to be okay.” Jove shook his head, but his mother squeezed his arms tight. “It will be. I refuse to let it not be.”
“But—”
His mother shook her head back at him. “I’ve been a prisoner of grief before, and that blinded me to…things. I’ve learned my lesson, and I will not allow you to fall into the same trap I did…or your father.”
She swallowed hard before giving his arms another squeeze and pressing her right hand to his cheek. “We’ll get through this together.”
More sounds came from around the corner, and Jove stood straight, wiping his eyes and nose on his already dirty sleeves. He didn’t say anything, only retrieved the fallen shard and placed himself in front of his mother.
Could it really be Loffler? Someone else? A rescue? Or another hallucination?
Seconds later, a light appeared, followed by a man covered in dirt and dressed in a ragged military uniform underneath some sort of harness. He froze when he saw Jove and Les.
“Lady Shackley!” he exclaimed. “You’re alive!” He turned back the way he’d come and shouted, “I found them! Bring the medic!”
Jove and his mother stood still. He was unsure whether he was seeing and hearing things correctly. He’d pretty much accepted the fact there was a very good chance they wouldn’t be rescued, that they would die in the cave.
Jove’s legs went weak. He’d prayed for this, to a deity he hadn’t believed in, but he’d written it off almost within the same breath. Did that mean Clara was alive? Or was the god simply vengeful, wanting Jove to suffer even more?
The man smiled again. “Took some time to assemble the right team and tools, but the Stradat Lord Kapitan will be pleased. When we didn’t find your bodies with the others, we were worried.” He fiddled with the edge of his dirty uniform. “We also believed you, Lady Shackley, perished in the initial attack.”
“Harlan?” Les choked. “Harlan organized this?”
“The Stradat Lord Kapitan would’ve been down here himself if it hadn’t been for the flyovers this morning.” He gave a small smile. “That trial really changed him, I think. He’s been very involved in the recovery effort. Say what you want, but he’s a dedicated leader.” He held up the gas lantern and looked back the other way and shouted for his team to hurry. He turned back to Jove and Les, his face drawn and wan in the light from his gas lantern. “The Cerls hit us hard a few days ago. The cave-ins caused large holes and exposed our hiding place. Lost many good people in the days since, and then another cave-in exposed some Yalvar fuel. It’s been a mess. Was glad that we were able to find a medic to help us. Granted, he’s more of an herbalist fromthe Nardens, but he was willing to help when the others were needed in the ward this morning.”
Jove swiped at his face again and gestured back toward the crystal chamber. “We have two others with us. One is unconscious.”
Seconds later, a man with a little girth around his waist and a balding head of red hair appeared, a satchel at his shoulder. He looked worse than the other man, and that was saying something. Jove had a sinking suspicion he’d been attending to the other bodies of those who hadn’t fared as well as Jove, his mother, and Kainadr. The expression on the man’s face confirmed it. Closed and tight, a little red around the eyes.
“I’m Stowe,” the man said, opening his satchel. He eyed Jove’s hand. “Allow me to put some salve on that. It’ll keep the bleeding down and numb the pain until we can patch it up real nice in the ward. We’ll want to do that soon, because I can’t clean it too good right now.”
“Jove Shackley. This is my mother, Lady Celeste.” He held out his damaged hand.
Stowe prodded the nasty-looking cut with a clean cloth he’d pulled from his satchel.
He wasn’t sure how much an herbalist could do right then—especially if Kainadr could use that dust to patch it right up—but the man had come all the way down with the crew, so the least Jove could do was play along.
“You Kase’s family?” The man paused in his inspection of Jove’s hand. “They didn’t tell me who we were going down for.”
Jove was unsure if he wanted to answer in the positive. What if the man was one who’d lost his family in the fire and would take it out on Jove and his mother now?
His mother made the decision for him. “Yes. Do you know my youngest son?”
