And in honour of the Welsh Grand Slam this afternoon, in which Ireland took one for the team and let us run all over them to stop the English winning the championship (thanks, guys, much obliged), and Scotland proceeded to make them regret being born, here is the final chapter of EOA + an ending author's note. Love you all.
P.S. for all of you international peeps who couldn't possibly be expected to know this...
***
Nightmare was dancing beneath me. A touch of the reins and a whispered whoa, whoa accomplished nothing but annoying him even further. We had been waiting for the entire afternoon — he was impatient, and rightly so. He had not been bred for standing around.
It was raining, of course, because the sky above the wetlands knew how to do little else. Where it fell upon my stallion, droplets stuck in his short, coarse fur and hung there like so many stars in the night sky. I liked to run a finger across his shoulders and leave a dark whorl amongst the glistening beads.
"Two horses, two riders," Glyn called. He was thirteen now, and he looked more like his brother with every passing day. "They don't have her."
Sami swore under her breath. He had sharp eyes, so he was taken at his word. "Fine. We will do this the hard way."
I nudged Nightmare forwards a few paces so that I could see over the hill's crest. Duskos lay sprawled below us, an ungainly mess of hovels and rundown townhouses. Beyond it stood the castle itself, and the massive gates were grinding closed. Two horses picked their way down the road. One rider wore armour, and the other carried a sling.
"Ready the men," I told Neve. "We will ride out to meet them."
She inclined her head and turned her horse in a tight circle. Our escort was twenty warriors, all of them young and un-blooded and in need of some hard experience. They were resting under the shelter of the trees behind us, and I could hear snatches of their laughter whenever the wind blew.
While we waited, Eclipse uncurled and stretched in my lap. The others had all teased me mercilessly for bringing my cat, but Melia had brought her infant son, so I reckoned she was twice as stupid. At least Eclipse didn't cry through the night or need changing every few hours. We were setting a slow pace for the baby anyway, and I could hand her off to Fendur for a few hours whenever Nightmare wanted to canter. She had a leather pouch strapped to the saddle, so there was no danger she would fall.
She rubbed her head against my hand, and I smiled down at her. I couldn't have left her behind. She was so attached to me that she walked in little circles and cried when I rode out to fight Sihons, let alone a three-week excursion south.
The two horses had halved the distance by the time Neve returned with our escort. All the same, we rode down the hillside to wait for them on the dirt road below. They reached us within another minute. Anlai and Melia were riding side by side, and she had the baby nestled in her arms.
Little Tem had been born in the moon when the daffodils poked their heads out of the frost-bitten ground and the first lambs found their way into the world. He had been breach, so his mother had nearly died birthing him, and he had repaid her efforts by getting a horrible hacking cough within a week. For a long while, it had looked like he wouldn't see his first birthday, but he had fought hard, and he was still alive and kicking all these moons later.
They reined up beside us. Sami sat forwards in her saddle to look them over and asked dryly, "You don't seem in any great hurry, cousin, so I will assume Ulric is still alive?"
Anlai pulled his gelding's head from the grass and shrugged. There was a shit-eating grin plastered on his lips. "Bruised but breathing."
"I'm surprised he let you walk after that," she muttered.
So was I. Since it was not considered polite to take an entire town hostage every time you wanted a word with its liege lord, we had relied on the bribe of Ulric's grandson to get them through the gate, and on guest overture to get them back out again, but throwing punches at your host generally forfeited your right to guest overture.
"Oh, I didn't hit him," he drawled, throwing a sly look at his wife. "I just held the baby."
And with that, he leaned out of his saddle to take hold of Melia's hand and lift it high. Her knuckles were split and bloodied, and I found my jaw dropping. Beside me, Sami let out a low whistle.
"Melia," Fendur breathed. "You did not."
"I didn't mean to," she squealed. "Honest, I didn't. But the way he was talking about Issy, I just... It wasn't intentional, okay?"
Fendur started sniggering, and that made her flush, because she didn't seem to realise that we were all proud of her. Saqui said something in gentle Sapphirean. It made her cheeks even rosier, so I could only imagine it had been a compliment.
"I think she broke his nose," Anlai threw in, and Melia let out a little gasp. He was rewarded with a backhanded smack. She hit plate armour and doubtless only hurt herself, because Anlai was still laughing at her. "Ah, look. There she goes again, the little terror. Gods only know when her rampage will end."
They were approaching a year and a half of marriage, and I would say that the baby had brought them closer. Oh, there had been plenty of exhausted, pointless arguments, but there had been plenty more quiet nights sat by the hearth while they wondered if their son would see the dawn, and that was not easily forgotten.
"Hold Tem for me, would you?" Melia asked me. "I think I might murder my husband."
"Oh, gladly," I laughed.
She kicked her horse as close to Nightmare as it would go, and I leaned over to take the baby. The moment he was secure, Melia turned her horse back around only to find that Anlai had taken shelter behind Sami and her Iyrak to escape her wrath. She could only glower at him.
Tem was getting much heavier, and he liked to wriggle now, but I settled him against my shoulder and grinned at him. Eclipse poked her head out to sniff at the boy.
"Hello there, little cousin," I told him softly. "What did you think of your grandfather?"
Melia allowed herself a tiny, tiny smile. "He cried the whole time Father held him."
"I've never been so proud," Anlai added. He still hadn't dared to come out from behind Sami. "Of you both, that is."
As if he understood, Tem let out a delighted shriek. He liked the sound of his own voice, so he kept shrieking, and after a minute Melia came over to retrieve him because he was scaring the horses. I handed him back with no shortage of reluctance.
"Handsome, isn't he?" I asked Anlai. "Are you sure he's yours?"
My answer was an eye-roll and muttered curse, because this was a common joke amongst us. The baby had Melia's honey-brown hair, golden skin and Sapphirean eyes, so his looks were missing even a shadow of his father. Melia was too busy shushing the baby to pay us much heed, but she did roll her eyes.
"Am I sure Melia didn't go and tumble another man?" he laughed. "Aye, I'd say I am. She barely even lets me into her bed."
I smirked at him. "Are you sure you should be boasting about that?"
Anlai shrugged. "The fault is clearly with her standards, not me. I don't have much room for improvement in that regard."
"I'm surprised you managed to father any children at all," I muttered, "because your head appears to be lodged up your own arse."
"I take it we are camping here?" Sami asked, cutting us off before we could get into full swing. Anlai had to bite back his retort. "We can fetch your sister in the early hours and be halfway back to Sierra before anyone notices she is gone."
Melia shook her head. "No, no. There will have to be a change of plans."
A frown soured my face. "Oh? How so?"
"She isn't there," she sighed. "Father got tired of dragging her home every time she tried to run. He married her off to the neighbouring lord — a brute thrice her age."
I felt rage kindling deep within my chest at yet another hastily arranged marriage. We had been counting on smuggling the girl out of Duskos, because Ulric would never willingly surrender anything as valuable as a daughter, but if she was in another castle, the layout of which was unknown to us...
"So we go to the lord?" Sami tried.
Melia was chewing on her lip. "No. She's not there either. She stabbed her fiancé with a fire poker and absconded a week past. None of the search parties have found a trace of her."
My eyebrows flew upwards. "She did what?"
"Stabbed him," she repeated patiently. "He's alive, I'm told, but he might have some difficulty fathering children."
Fendur whistled in appreciation. "And where, pray tell, might we find this little firecracker? I would quite like to give her a round of applause."
As would I.
Melia offered a helpless shrug. "That's anyone's guess. Issy knows these hills like the back of her hand, so I doubt she has gone far. I do remember a few of her favourite haunts... I would check them, if that is alright with you, Ragnyr?"
Sami hummed her agreement. "We have come all this way, have we not? Might as well try our luck."
"Thank you," she sighed. "Really. The closest is half a league south."
"South, then," our warlord agreed. She wheeled her horse so that the afternoon sun was on her right, and she led us down the road. I was beside her, of course, for there was only room to ride two abreast. Our Iyrak came behind us — Fendur and Kiare and then Neve and Bevan. The road took us into thick woodland before a minute had passed.
The further we went into the forest, the louder the wind howled. It was a chilling, soul-sucking wind the likes of which kept us awake at night shivering, but it was the wind I had to thank that I was here at all. The Sihons didn't dare cross the ocean when the autumn storms blew, so these few weeks before winter began in earnest were the only time we could risk leaving Sierra without a Valkyr.
I reckoned I had earned the holiday. Sami had spent the last two moons of summer in eastern Sihone, and I had beaten back three separate attempted raids and even captured a pair of longships. Yes, perhaps my swordplay still needed some work and my Iyrak had been the only reason I had come back alive, but the strategy? I had a rare talent for that.
Melia led us a merry dance into the trees. The wind picked up the fallen leaves and threw them at us, spooking every horse except my demon of a stallion, who only tossed his head and snapped at the leaves as they flew past. When we got closer, we had to tether the horses and proceed on foot so she wouldn't hear us coming and run for it. Glyn was left to watch them.
Our destination was a little thicket nestled at the base of a rocky outcrop, and there was no sign of life within, but Saqui's sharp eyes picked out a few boot-prints near the entrance. The wind and the sun had dried them, so they could have been days old, for all we knew. It was a start, though.
"I want to check the hilltop," Melia said, "but she is sure to see us coming, so perhaps I had better go alone. No offence or anything, but you all look quite ... aggressive."
"No offence taken," Sami said. Once Melia had disappeared up the slope, she turned to her Iyrak. "Bev, pick three of the striplings and follow her at a distance. The rest of you spread out and search. Swords sheathed, if you please. We don't want to scare the girl."
There came a dutiful chorus of, "Aye, Ragnyr," and, "As you say, Ragnyr."
Personally, I skirted around the thicket and headed east, away from the setting sun. It warmed my back as I padded past trees and bushes alike. Neve and Kiare were a constant, silent presence at my heels, for they could hardly leave me to wander the woods alone in semi-hostile territory.
It was only a few minutes before I heard shouting to my left. After the barest glance at my Iyrak, who drew their swords, I struck out towards the noise. Any semblance of urgency to my step faded when laughter replaced the shouts. I thought it was just the striplings mucking around until I emerged into a sparse clearing.
There was a girl stood in a circle of eight or nine of our warriors, Anlai amongst them. She brandished a stick and swung at each of them in turn while they whistled and laughed themselves hoarse. Half of them had drawn their swords, and they were knocking her branch aside every time she flew at them as if it were a hilarious game.
I recognised Melia's sister at a glance. One of her eyes and the cheekbone below it were marked with a faded bruise where someone had clearly taken a swing at her. She was tiny — not even five feet tall, and barely fourteen years old, but that wasn't stopping her from doing her utmost best to kill them all.
"She's a fierce one, eh?" one of the men asked me.
"Enough," I said. "You're scaring her."
"You lily-livered fish turds do not scare me," she spat. "I'll fight all of you."
Sami, Fendur and Saqui had found us by then, and they came to stand at my shoulder. My wife had her eyebrows raised in astonishment, but Fendur's expression was nothing short of scandalised delight. It was exactly the kind of diabolical chaos that he relished.
"Enough," I repeated. It had taken me moons to get the women listening to me, and everyone agreed that the men were easier, so they should have been jumping to obey. But today they were enjoying themselves far too much.
It was Anlai who listened in the end. He twisted the stick from her hands, wrapped an arm around her waist and lifted her like a bag of flour, despite her every attempt to claw his face off, and then he dumped her at my feet. She would have lunged for me too, had he not managed to get a firm grip on her collar.
"Hello, Issy," I said.
She ignored me entirely and instead twisted around as far as she could and clawed at Anlai. Her fingers gouged a bloody line across his cheek before he managed to catch her hands, and he spat curses at her. He didn't retaliate, if only because he could imagine the hellfire Melia would rain down upon him if he hurt the girl.
"Stop trying to take his eye out," I told her. "He's your brother-in-law."
"I am not married," she snarled. "I'll kill that brainless pig-sucker before I marry him. Go fetch him, go on, and I'll kill him to his face."
There was clearly a slight error in communication there, and I blamed it on the laziness of the Anglian tongue. Cambrian distinguished between a sister's husband and a husband's brother twice over.
Fendur had started sniggering. The few of our men who were not already helpless with laughter chose that moment to snap. If the girl had still been loose, she could have killed half of them, easy as anything.
"What's a pig-sucker?" Anlai asked scornfully.
"Look in a mirror," the girl snapped.
He choked on thin air, and the other warriors howled louder. Fendur was doubled over and clutching his stomach by then. I hid a smile of my own.
Sami nudged me. "Are we sure this girl is related to Melia?"
I nodded. I had seen her before, if only from a distance, so I was sure. Her skin was a shade darker — closer to heather honey than Melia's gold, and her eyes were pine-bark brown rather than bronze, but the resemblance was hard to mistake. They had the same frown. The girl was now making very good use of hers.
Upon hearing Melia's name, she whirled. "How do you know my sister?"
"I told you," I said patiently. "You're trying to blind her husband."
She snuck a wary glance at Anlai, whose amusement was bleeding into impatience.
"I don't believe you," she decided, and that was sensible caution on her part, I supposed. Annoying for us, though.
"Go and fetch Melia back," Sami told one of the striplings, and he took off into the trees at a jog. That was sensible. I should have done it when I had first arrived, but I hadn't expected such spirited resistance from the girl.
While we waited, Saqui pushed his way through the warriors to reach Issy's side, and he said something in lilting Sapphirean that made her frown twist deeper. I didn't need to speak the language to know that her snapped reply was something impolite, but Saqui was patient with her. He tried twice more to reassure her while we watched on, and his only reward was curses and unwieldy rage.
"I stayed in your castle," I told her. "The night before Melia left. Don't you remember?"
"Gods, no, you piss-licking maggot. Why would I?" she demanded. "I've never given a shit about Father's guests."
I sighed at her. It had been a year and a half, so I would have to forgive her lapse in memory on this occasion. "Issy Spitfire, I think we'll call you. You're wise not to trust me, but as it happens, we are here to help you, not drag you back to that miserable old man they wanted you to marry."
Issy chewed on her lip and hung limp in Anlai's grip for the first time. Her eyes swept across each of us, perhaps noticing the northern-style clothing and the scarred, suntanned faces. "If that's true, where's my sister?"
"She will be here in a minute or so," I said, daring to smile. "Can you refrain from attacking anyone while we wait?"
She looked down at her feet, contemplating it. After a long minute, she nodded her head yes, and I signalled Anlai to release her. I should have guessed what would happen next, because it was exactly what I would have done, but I had underestimated her cunning.
The instant Anlai let go, she twisted and slammed her knee into his balls. He doubled over, spitting curses, and she took the opportunity to make a break for it. One of the striplings stepped into her path and raised his sword. She skidded to a halt and began to double back, but by then it was too late.
At a hand signal from Sami, the circle of northerners closed again, trapping Issy in the middle. She turned slowly back to face us. I saw a glint of metal in her hand and realised she had Anlai's belt knife, and that was bad. We couldn't hurt her, we couldn't let her hurt our men, and we couldn't let her run away, never to be seen again, so our options were ... limited, to say the least.
"Issy," I said quietly, "that was beautifully done, but you will need to put that down."
She ignored me. Her eyes were fixed on a young man who had just turned sixteen. He was the smallest of our warriors, and doubtless he looked like a weak link in the chain — her only chance to escape. She might have tried to gut him where he stood, but Anlai drew his sword and pushed his way into the circle, and her attention found a new home within the span of a heartbeat.
"She said drop it, you vicious little bitch," he snapped. He kept the sword-point low for the time being, but I could sense his temper rising like the dawn tide. I knew we didn't have long before the two of them ended up tearing each other to shreds.
"Why don't you come and make me, corpse-breath?" she retorted.
Without taking her eyes off him, Issy crouched down and picked up her branch once again. She said a few words that highborn girls weren't supposed to know. The branch span in her hand, fast enough that I could hear the air parting before it, and I reckoned she was about to do something incredibly stupid.
Beside me, Sami rolled her eyes skywards. "Gods above, must I do everything myself? You can disarm her without your bloody sword, Anlai, and you know it."
She freed her own sword from its sheath and handed it to Fendur hilt-first with a muttered order to stay put, and then she strode towards them. Before she could reach the circle, let alone enter, an appalled voice demanded, "What in gods' names are you doing?"
There was Melia, at last. Bevan was trailing behind her with the baby in his arms. She could see her husband, and she could see the circle of northerners, but she couldn't see her sister until she took another step forwards. And then I saw her stifle a little sob with her sleeve.
Issy saw her, too, and her eyes widened with astonishment. The branch fell to the ground, utterly forgotten. I imagined it would take her a moment to recognise her sister. Melia wore her hair up now, and she carried a sword at her hip. Her cotton dresses had long since been replaced by tunics, furs, shirts and breeches. There was even a faint battle-scar running across her temple.
And then Melia went running to her, and the two of them embraced fiercely. Issy hadn't dropped the knife, but she was taking great care to hold it away from her sister's back. They were laughing and perhaps crying a little, too. Anlai grudgingly returned his sword to its sheath.
I didn't want to be jealous. In fact, I did my absolute best to smother the feeling before it could rear its ugly head, but I couldn't help it. The closer we had grown to the wetlands, the more I had started missing my family. And now Melia was getting what I wanted so very, very desperately... Yes, it was hard.
When they broke apart, Melia took the chance to look her up and down. She touched the bruise on her cheekbone with poorly-concealed horror.
"Gods, Issy," Melia breathed. "I'm sorry it took me so long. I didn't think Father would ... Gods."
"I was fine," Issy mumbled defiantly.
Her sister scoffed. "Fine? Look at you! You don't even have a cloak. Have you been sleeping rough?"
Tem started crying. The wind often set him off, and he could cry for a day straight when he was really determined, so Anlai took him from Bevan and walked him back and forth. The girl's eyes followed them warily. Her knuckles were still white around the knife hilt.
"Only these past two days," Issy said. "I stayed a few nights in Heathersedge and a few more with a shepherd."
The name of my village had me standing a lot straighter. "Where in Heathersedge?"
Issy looked at me curiously. "The hospice. They hid me as long as they could, but Father's men were knocking on doors, so..."
I knew every building within a league of Heathersedge. I had been inside most of them at some point. And none of them had been a hospice by any definition. "That is... That's ... where, exactly?"
She shrugged her shoulders. "West of the village. It was dark, so I didn't see much, but I think there was a lake nearby."
Shock numbed me for a moment, but it was quickly followed by an electrifying excitement, and my heart skipped a heart or two. Melia was frowning at me now, wondering why it mattered, but I ignored her. Instead, my eyes fixed on Sami — pleading, almost. She understood what I was asking and inclined her head ever so slightly. We were getting good at talking without saying a word.
"Back to the horses," Sami said, letting her voice carry across the clearing. "We've got a lot of ground to cover before dusk."
***
Tightening the girth was a constant battle with Nightmare. Every time I lifted the saddle flap, he would twist around and snap at me. It was a delicate balance trying to hold the reins and fasten the buckle with one hand, but I managed, as always. He often tried to bite me again when I mounted, and he never stood still for it, so there was always a risk of slipping from his back and falling onto my arse.
Beside me, Sami was already comfortable on her placid, well-behaved gelding. She wasn't very good at hiding her smirks whenever Nightmare's teeth flashed, but I was very good at ignoring them. No sooner had I settled myself than Melia brought her sister over.
"Issy, this is Lyra," Melia said, putting an arm around the girl's shoulder. "And the taller one is Samira. She's our warlord, so you will have to be very polite."
Sami winked at her. "Don't listen to her, Issy. I quite like you insolent."
Issy shifted her weight onto her heels. Anlai's knife was stuck haphazardly into her belt. She was still wary of us, but it was easing by the minute. "You're really a warlord?"
"I am."
I could see the unasked question burning a hole in her eyes — even though you're a girl? But she swallowed it, somehow, and she shrugged her shoulders as though it didn't bother her. "Alright."
Fendur was next to join to stick his nose into the conversation, his fellow Iyrak not far behind him. It was difficult to bow from horseback, but he gave it his best effort. "It's an honour to make your acquaintance, little lady. I must say I'm a big fan of your work. The fire poker especially."
"This idiot is Fendur," Sami said. "You can ignore nine-tenths of what he says."
Issy raised her eyebrows because she had been basking in the flattery. "I would rather not, actually."
And that, of course, made Fendur's day.
"Can we keep her, Sami?" he asked. "Gods, please say yes. I haven't had this much fun since Lyra arrived."
Bevan rolled his eyes. "Why not? The last time a little southern girl tried to kill us, we made her our Valkyr. Might as well make a habit of it."
"Quiet, you," Sami said, but her eyes were sparkling with mischief. She turned to look at the girl properly. "Issy can stay as long as she likes, and that is a privilege I grant to anyone who calls my cousin a pig-sucker."
Issy tried very hard to hide her smile, but it was still there — a tiny, delighted curl to her lips. It fell away altogether when Anlai came back over with Tem writhing in his arms.
"Do you want to feed him before we leave?" he asked his wife, giving Issy the cold shoulder.
"I do, yes, but wait a moment, would you?" Melia replied. She turned to beam at her sister. "Issy, this is your nephew. And ... I take it you've met my husband already?"
Issy nodded idly. "Oh, yes. The prick."
"Issy," Melia hissed. "We are putting all that unpleasantness behind us, do you hear?"
Clearly, she wanted them to agree, but they were too busy glowering at each other. I shook my head slightly, and she sighed because she knew as well as I did that it would be a victory if we could even make it through the conversation without any more name-calling.
Changing tactic, she squeezed her son's hand, trying to retreat to common ground. "I think he looks like Mother, don't you?"
"A good thing, too," Issy muttered. It was a clear dig at Anlai which was ignored entirely. "What's his name?"
"Temris," Melia said. "But we call him Tem mostly."
There had been lots of little boys named Tem this year. And not just in Sierra — across all four warbands. The northerners liked their folk heroes, and he was the newest of them. Most of the stories they told about him were already complete and utter bullshit, and it had only been a year. By the time a generation had passed, I had no doubt they would be twisted beyond all recognition, but I didn't mind, really. Not when I knew how Tem would have laughed to hear them.
Issy wrinkled up her nose. "That's a northern name."
A glance at me, and Melia was chewing on her lip, but she didn't explain. "Yes, it is. Would you like to hold him?"
The girl didn't look keen on the idea. She nodded, though, and Anlai had to pry Tem out of his arms and hand him over. Issy let him rest on her hip, regarding him with a cautious frown.
Tem was getting to that age when he wouldn't sit still — the same age my youngest sister had been when she had died. He also liked to put things into his mouth, much to Melia's dismay, because it meant he couldn't be left alone even for a minute. He wriggled in Issy's arms so much that Anlai had to take him back.
Melia decided it was time to feed him, using her cloak for cover, and Issy was left to entertain herself. She couldn't seem to tear her eyes away from Nightmare, who was dancing beneath me, eager to be moving again. The motion was enough to wake Eclipse, who uncurled and arched her back and dug her claws into my breeches.
"Is that a cat?" Issy demanded.
I nodded without offering any sort of explanation. I would keep my distance — let her come to me, I reckoned. She was so curious by nature that it wouldn't take long.
"Oh," she muttered. "I like the cat, and I like the horse."
"This one? We call him Nightmare," I told her. A glance at Melia showed me wide, pleading eyes, and I felt a smile creeping across my lips. "You can ride with me, if you like. He can carry two."
There had been an abysmal oversight in the planning of this trip — we had not brought a spare horse, so Issy would have to share with someone. I was both the lightest person here, and I had the biggest horse, so it would be best if that someone was me.
The girl looked at me, then at her sister as if to ask permission. Melia nodded vigorously, and she even sent her husband over to help her climb on with a few whispered words. Issy refused at first, but she soon discovered that it was much harder climbing into a saddle that was already occupied and harder still when the horse wouldn't stand still, so she had to unbend her pride and let him haul her upwards.
It took a colossal amount of manoeuvring to get her into the saddle in front of me. I had the reins, and she had the stirrups, and between us we managed well enough. Of course, Nightmare knew we had a guest and played up accordingly, because he had to make a horrible first impression so she would have a healthy fear of him. Issy, however, seemed to enjoy his bucking and every misguided attempt to kick another horse.
Sami steered her gelding to the front of the group. Normally, I would have followed her, but I reckoned Issy would want to stay with Melia. With no small effort, I curbed Nightmare enough to keep him in the middle of the column as we moved out again. Neve and Kiare fell in behind me, as always, and they bickered over how best to deploy spearmen in woodland terrain.
Anlai joined us after a few minutes, so we were riding three abreast and I had to be careful that Nightmare didn't stray too close to the tree trunks and shatter Issy's kneecaps. We rode like that for the better part of the afternoon, but there did come a time when Nightmare tired of being so far from the front, and then we spent a few hours in Sami's company.
Dusk approached, and we pressed on, hurrying as the light began to fade. The road was all too familiar, now. We were not taking the most direct route to Heathersedge, perhaps, but I knew we would get there eventually, and that was preferable to striking out into the wilderness.
And then I saw it. At first, there was a cluster of lights in distance, and that was all. The closer we drew, the more we could see — outlines of houses in the darkness and individual lanterns glowing. The village was smaller than I remembered, and many of the houses were still charred husks.
Some of the village men came out with axes and scythes to watch us pass. There were a few faces I recognised, all of them older and gaunter. They stood there in a silent, lethal threat, weapons resting on their shoulders. Oh, how things had changed. If the Anglians ever returned, they would be ready, and our enemies would find it a little more difficult to slaughter us in our homes.
We were careful to make our intentions clear. Our swords stayed in their sheaths, and our shields were slung across our back or strapped to our saddles. Sami even murmured a greeting to a scowling man, for all the good it did. A year ago, they would have cursed us just for being northerners, but Canton had added a new level of complexity to our country's feuding. It was hard to spit at the people to whom you owed your life.
Once we were through the village, it was only another few minutes ride to the farm itself, and that was lucky, because the horses were starting to trip over their own feet. Before we had gotten very far, Sami gave Bevan command of the warriors and told him to make a camp in a field. It would have been rude to turn up with all twenty warriors in tow and demand hospitality.
She might have looked lopsided with one of her Iyrak dispatched, but Saqui was so tied at the hip to Fendur that he may as well have been the third Iyrak, and he moved into Bevan's place without a word. He was so at ease that it was hard to believe he had only been with us for the last moon.
We passed the lake. Even in the gloom, I recognised every field and every tree. It was a strange feeling for me — nostalgia and fear mixed together in one big and hopeless knot. I hadn't wanted to come home. It had never been on the agenda, not even when I had known we would come within seven leagues of the place to collect Issy from Duskos. There was nothing left here for me except ghosts.
The eleven of us who remained rode into the front yard. I threw my leg over Nightmare's back before helping Issy down. He was tired by then, but he still found the energy to nibble at the hem of her tunic while I loosened the girth and crossed the stirrups.
Eclipse jumped down of her own accord, narrowly missing a flailing hoof. She and Nightmare did not get along. The stallion liked to kick at the cat, and the cat liked to piss on the stallion's food. I reckoned it was jealousy more than anything.
It finally occurred to me that I should look around. The ruins of my farmhouse had been replaced with a new building — wattle and daub and thatch, and five times the size at least. The barn was still there, but it looked like it had been converted, because there were lanterns flickering within and the draughty doors had been replaced with a proper entrance.
"Can we help you?" a quiet voice asked, and I span around.
There was a girl standing in the doorway of the new house. The lantern light behind her was throwing her face into shadow, but I recognised the voice. It was a little shaky — armed horsemen riding into your yard in total darkness was not an everyday occurrence around here.
"Hello, Alisa," I said. "May we come in?"
She didn't recognise me, of course. Not in the dark, not when we had met only briefly the summer before last, but she did recognise Issy when she stepped into the lantern light, and she threw her arms around her.
"Gods, where did you go?" she demanded. "We were worried sick."
"I didn't want you to get in trouble," Issy muttered.
Alisa groaned at her. "We could have hidden you, Issy. There was no need to—"
"All's well that ends well," she cut across, and then she squirmed free of the hug and went into the house. "You can let them in, by the way. They're not Anglian."
And that was all the guarantee Alisa needed, for she stepped backwards and held the door open to let us into the warmth. I went first because I had been closest, and I watched her eyes widen in disbelief. It took her a moment to place me, I reckoned, but it helped that Kiare was standing at my shoulder.
"I... Oh, abyss. I didn't think I would ever see you two again, if I am being honest."
"Likewise," Kiare laughed. "But you are looking well, Alisa."
Indeed, she looked much better than she had, but that was not very surprising. Canton had been rock bottom for many people, and the place had not exactly leant towards good health. Now there was colour in her cheeks and it even looked like someone had filed down her broken teeth so she wouldn't catch her tongue every time she spoke.
"Thank you," she said finally. "I suppose you had better come in."
***
Sat at the fireside, I sipped from a mug of warm milk. Eclipse was draped across my lap, and every now and then I would let her lick a few drops of milk from my fingers because she loved the stuff. Her big golden eyes were easing closed with every minute that passed.
"How?" I asked. "How did you pay for all of this?"
It was not just the cost of building a house of this size that puzzled me. It was also how she was managing to feed the three dozen people who were sharing the hall with us. They were old and young, men and women, and most had the rings of scars around their wrists which marked them as Canton survivors.
A few did not. They had managed to escape the soldiers, but they had still watched their families die, and so here they were. Kiare had her own ring of scars, of course, but I was somewhere between the two groups. The scuff marks on my neck and wrists and ankles were not so obvious. I had only been in chains for a week, after all.
"Lord Ulric gave us the money, if you can believe that," Alisa explained. "It's his job to protect us, and he ordered his soldiers not to engage the Anglians, so now he has to pay blood money in recompense. The aldermen said so."
She was sat beside a hearty girl of about her own age, and they had been holding hands for a long time now, so I could only assume they were ... close. Like me, they were on the floor, but there were so many animal skins laid on the flagstones that it was like sitting in bed. Half of the hall was cushioned like that — more than enough room for two score people to sit.
I nodded thoughtfully. "That is ... surprising."
A grin spread across her lips. "Oh, I quite agree. I rather think he was afraid we would revolt, but who cares for his motives? The blood money let us build the place, and charity keeps it running. Your friend Tom sent us wagons and wagons of grain at harvest time, and Ronan tours the wealthier families to ask for donations. We have also been keeping chickens and growing vegetables and renting out the fields."
"Is there anything we can do?" Sami asked. "I will, of course, pay you for what we eat, but you can make use of us while we are here. Any repairs or building work — just say the word."
"No, nothing like that. We are managing fine," she assured us. "But I suppose, if you really wouldn't mind... Some of our number have expressed an interest in learning to defend themselves, and I think we can all agree that you northerners have a talent for that line of work."
Sami looked at me and waited for the slightest of nods before she said, "I think we can manage a few lessons."
And by that, of course, she meant that Anlai would do all of the teaching and the rest of us would act as demonstrators. He had been helping Hallos train the underlings for the last year — hence our small army of sixteen-year-olds — so he was hardly lacking for experience. I had no doubt Melia would soon nag him into teaching Issy, too.
"You have my thanks," Alisa said, smiling now. "When the Anglians next cross the border, they will die in their hundreds."
The replying roar of approval from us all — northerners and southerners alike — was loud and raucous enough to put an end to the conversation. In the uproar that followed, I rested my head against Sami's. I couldn't even bring myself to look at her as I asked, "We can't... We couldn't give them money, perhaps?"
"Not from the war chest," Sami said quietly. "But I have not spent any of my ascension tithe, and I don't think keeping them fed through the winter would make a dent."
"Thank you," I murmured.
She shook her head. "It's your money, too, Lyra, and I cannot think of a worthier cause."
I gave her hand a squeeze, and then I went back to stroking the cat. My eyes roamed around the room. Issy had found herself sat next to Glyn, and the two of them were talking about something. I supposed that was a good thing. Glyn didn't have many friends his own age.
Without really meaning to, I found myself reading their lips. It was a habit I wasn't trying very hard to break. They were expressing their admiration for Nightmare, and the barest glimmer of an idea crossed my mind. Neve was on my other side, so I nudged her arm to catch her attention.
"I was thinking," I began cautiously, my eyes fixed on Issy still, "that I have yet to find a tyro."
Neve followed my gaze and smiled. "Oh, by all means. It will be good for both of you."
"What are we whispering about?" my wife asked, leaning in very close.
"Lyra wants Issy for a tyro," Neve said.
She broke into a grin. "Thank the gods. Yes — yes, please. It's about damn time you stopped stealing mine."
I was aware that our voices sounded very loud, all of a sudden, so I snorted and swallowed my retort.
In the span of a few minutes, the room had fallen quiet. Issy and Glyn were still talking, but they had let their voices drop to whispers. Little Tem was taking a few shaky steps with his parent's arms for crutches because they had grown weary of him bouncing up and down on their laps. Even Kiare was basking in the warmth of the fire, allowing herself a rare moment of relaxation.
And last but by no means least, Fendur and Saqui were tangled in a corner, with the Iyrak half asleep on the assassin's shoulder. They had yet to marry, but that was only because Saqui would be spending the winter in Sihone as soon as he could next take a ship. He had wanted to see the northern islands, so he was going to spy for us. Next year's raids would be turned back before they could even land their ships.
I rubbed Eclipse under the chin and felt her body rumbling as she purred. She helped, as always. I didn't have the first idea how to feel about any of this. I had given Alisa the farm hoping it might help her — just one person, and that would have been enough for me, but now there were dozens of people living here, safe and happy, just like they deserved. And that was good, of course, but...
Coming here had been a mistake. The fact that I was sitting in the place where my house had once stood — that perhaps someone had taken their last breath in this same spot, and I would have no way of knowing. It was difficult, to say the least.
I needed some air. It was my newest way of coping — instead of bottling everything up, I would remove myself from company and let myself feel whatever I needed to feel. I wasn't sure if it was actually helping, but it certainly felt healthier than my usual automatic suppression tactics.
With that in mind, I lifted Eclipse onto Sami's lap, as gently as I could manage, and I stood. Neve started to get up, but I caught her eye and shook my head. It was a short walk to the yard outside.
It wasn't exactly my intention, but I found myself standing in the exact spot I had been standing when I had heard first heard hoofbeats on the road. The chickens in the coop beside me were fast asleep. They clucked softly when I cracked the flap open and turfed one of them off a pile of eggs. I only took one — bone white and warm against my palm.
I put my back against the rough wood and let myself slide down until I was sat on the flagstones. I turned the egg over and over, letting it roll across my fingers. It was hard to believe that something which felt so hard from the outside could be fragile. One squeeze, and there would be yolk spilling into the dirt.
It was very dark now. The moon was behind a cloud, and there was only starlight to illuminate the farm yard. In one of the nearby fields, I could make out the shapes of the horses grazing and their saddles resting upon a fence. It was the same fence my brothers had been sitting on when they had died. I stared at the dark wood, and I fought the urge to spiral right there and then.
It had taken the soldiers one minute to change my life beyond recognition. One minute to take eight lives and set our home alight. It had felt much faster than that, but no — a minute was plausible. I had kept running through it in my mind, wondering if I could have saved even one of them. If I had thrown Avelin in another direction, perhaps. If I had managed to shout a warning. If I had run myself and made them chase me.
Something caught my eye. A row of stones near the road. It had not been here previously, and it seemed to serve no purpose. Curious, I picked myself up and wandered over. There were eight of them — some larger than others, and they formed a neat line beside the fence.
As I got closer, I could see that they were engraved with something. It took me far too long to understand. When I was close enough to read the writing, I stopped in my tracks, and I had to spend a moment just focusing on getting air into my lungs.
They had buried them. Tom must have helped, I supposed, because their names were etched into the stones. My hand was shaking so badly that I had to stoop and set the egg down on the flagstones.
I lost track of how long I spent standing there. I still went to the necropolis sometimes to visit Tem's slate, but there had been nowhere for me to mourn my family. No graves and no headstones. And since I was living with people who had never known them, in a place they had never visited, they had seemed to exist only in my head.
Until now, anyway.
It was a long time before the door to the house slid open, and a figure came out to find me. It was Sami, of course. She had the wolfskin cloak drawn tight around her. As she came to stand beside me, she put an arm around me and engulfed me in the cloak, too. I hadn't realised how cold I was until I felt the heat of her skin against mine. My cat had followed her, and she wove herself between my ankles.
"There's going to be music," Sami told me. She couldn't seem to tear her eyes away from the too-small headstones. "I didn't want you to miss out."
"Thank you," I murmured. I loved the soft, haunting Cambrian laments almost as much as I loved the loud and defiant ones. Her answer was a clumsy hug, and then I let her lead me back towards the house. It was an effort not to glance backwards.
They had begun by the time we got indoors. Alisa had a harp resting on her lap, and she was strumming it gently. It was something they did every night, I was told, because it helped the children get to sleep. Sami and I had to sneak in and take our seats as quietly as we could manage.
I recognised the song. It was about peace lilies, and it had been one of my mother's favourites. I knew the words by heart, but I was content to listen. Alisa had a beautiful voice. She led the others through both verses before sweeping into a second song about lost friends which had always tugged at my heartstrings.
When she had finished, when that last eerie note had faded into silence, Alisa stopped to wet her throat and let her fingers rest. The children were already beginning to doze in the arms of the people who would carry them to their beds.
"We used to sing in the mines, you know," Alisa said softly. She was looking at me, for some reason. "The soldiers didn't like it, so they whipped the skin off our backs and said we couldn't speak Cambrian anymore."
"And what then?" I asked. I had heard no singing in the tunnels, so perhaps they had simply given up.
She allowed herself a smile. "That is when we wrote Llusog Meracht."
The Cambrian was easily translated — an ashen empire, but I didn't know the song. I was about to ask when Kiare sat up beside the fire and stretched. "Lyra hasn't heard it."
"Ah," Alisa said. "Would you like to?"
"Please," I said.
I curled up tighter. In the house, I did not feel like a Valkyr at all. I was just another one of the survivors, and so I could let my guard down for once. Pressed between Sami and Neve, I was warm and sleepy and ready to fall asleep there and then.
"This one is in Anglian," Alisa said. "We wanted them to hear us, and we wanted them to understand."
To my surprise, she set the harp aside and took a generous gulp of water before she began. It was not a song, exactly, but it had a tune of sorts. She recited it strangely — soft and mournful and defiant all at once.
"Oh, send me to the garden,
It's no less than I have earnt.
For all that I have suffered,
And every lesson learnt.
Even if I could escape this place,
A part of me would stay.
For all these hard-won scars of mine,
Won't ever fade away.
From fields green to mountains steep,
Meadows to the city streets.
They can take our land, but I trust,
Its heart will always beat for us.
Here I'll stand, and here I'll fall,
When that east wind blows.
For home is far behind me,
And before me only foes.
So I'll go merry to my death,
With not a tear nor plea.
For we shall meet again, my friend,
And together we'll be free."
The End
***
***
***
Okay, lads. This is it. The final curtain. Three years later, and I'm finally done with this godsforsaken marathon of a story. It's now over 300,000 words and longer than Order of the Phoenix (go figure) and no, there will not be a sequel. It's pretty much a book and a couple sequels already. However, I do have another six books on this app if you're not tired of me yet. The Darkness in Between is also a fantasy novel with similar vibes.
Want to know if any of this really happened? Whether it hurt me to murder Tem? Well, you're in luck. This paragraph right here shall be the question zone, because I can't be arsed making a proper Q+A. Go ahead and shout your question into the abyss.
Secondly, it's my turn to ask a few questions for research purposes.
How did you find this book? (if you can even remember lol)
Who was your favourite character and who was the most boring?
What did you find hard to believe? (you know those moments when you're go yeah suuure or even just hmm)
Did anything annoy you about the writing at any point? (e.g. em dashes/overuse of italics)
What else annoyed you? And this can be literally anything. Really.
Be honest, lads. I've got thick skin, and I'm only asking because I really do want to know. It's the first draft. It needs some work, and this is a good way for me to start.
Next, IMPORTANT SERVICE ANNOUNCEMENT: If you do decide to re-read and you want to comment, don't just put it in the comment section for the poor first timers. We don't want to ruin the book for anyone. Comment #RR (and if you're going to mention anything massive, throw in #SPOILERS for good measure) and then reply to your own comment with what you were going to say. If you don't do this, I will have to delete, and I don't like wielding the hammer of destruction, so pretty please don't forget.
And, finally, I'm sorry if I ever made you cry. It isn't sadism, I swear. I love you guys, but I do have to tell the story. Thank you all for literally being the best readers on the face on the earth. The response to these last twenty chapters in particular has been truly amazing <3.
P.S. Would you mind doing me one last favour? Go and find someone you love right now and give them a nice big hug, because I think Lyra would appreciate that.
- Aellix