“I didn’t really curse. I simply asked about the words. It’s not the same thing.”
“Now! Now! Run for it! Follow Arista!” Flaeren’s voice jolted them back to the moment.
The boys were up and running before Charles pulled himself to his feet. Some protector I am. He pushed himself to the limit, picking up speed and gaining on the three. The river crossing lay ahead, ten yards wide with fast running water. A dozen Stone Clan archers had waded through from the opposite side to crouch behind the boulders. Their arrows flew in a constant stream, providing cover for their escape.
“Go across!” Arista commanded as she hopped down the river’s edge, turning to crouch and draw her bow at the enemy from behind the embankment.
“Hold my hands.” Charles stepped into the cold rushing water with Markaeus on the upstream side, his left, and Haegen on his right. It was then he noticed Haegen was still cradling the rat in his right arm. “Don’t let go of me, no matter what.”
The boys nodded as Charles forced his way into the thigh-deep driving torrents. Rising to Markaeus’ waist, the water lifted him from his feet, and Charles blocked with his body to keep him from being swept away. With a few extra inches on his brother, Haegen managed to keep his feet.
Midway, Charles slipped on a loose rock, and his legs flew out from under him. He stumbled and fell, the icy water taking his breath away, but he kept his hold on the boys’ hands. As he regained his footing, he stood, lifting with his hands to pull the boys upright again.
“Grey Nose! Grey Nose! I dropped him! Grey Nose!”
Charles saw the little rat swept away in the current, until the water deposited him on a large boulder in the center of the river, fifteen feet away. On the bank behind them, he heard shouts and turned to find the Water Clan warriors overrunning the Stone Clan archers.
“Come on, Haegen. The rat will be fine. We need to hurry.” Charles tried to keep his voice gentle and encouraging, despite his rising panic. He bent to grab them, one in each arm, and lunged through the rushing water. Twice, his feet stumbled on the rocky bottom, and he battled to keep his balance. Reaching the far shore, he dropped them on their feet. “Run! Get out of the clearing!”
Markaeus dashed away with Haegen on his heels. Fighting exhaustion, Charles took three steps, picking up speed. He felt a punch in his back on the left side. As pain shot through him, he dropped to his hands and knees. What happened?
“Uncle Charles! Uncle Charles!” Haegen called, sprinting back toward Charles.
“No, Haegen… keep going.” Charles tried to yell the warning, but his voice was weak. He could barely take a breath.
Haegen was three feet away when the arrow struck. His eyes widened and he cried out, wrapping his hands around the shaft protruding from his chest. With a slow gasp, his lids fluttered closed and he crumpled to the ground.
“Haegen!” The cry of despair tore from Markaeus’ mouth as he raced to his brother, dropping to his knees to fall over him. His wail was heart-wrenching. “Haegen! No, no, no… Haegen, please. Please don’t die. Please don’t leave me.”
With the last of his strength, Charles crawled across the short span, collapsing over the two boys to shield them with his body.
~ 22 ~
It wasn’t the first time Graely had officiated a departing ceremony. On the contrary, he’d spoken the customary verses of blessing and farewell for hundreds of Stone Clan citizens over the years. Yet this time, more than any other, his eyes stung and his throat constricted. He swallowed hard, brushing the tears from his face as he stood before the distraught faces surrounding the funeral pyre.
They waited—expectant and trusting—for him to bestow some amazing words of wisdom, to offer a reason for the deaths, to provide hope for the future, to assure that all would be well. Graely closed his eyes, searching deep in the well of his soul for the rig
ht words but came up dry.
He felt a hand on his shoulder and started. How long have I been standing here?
“Graely? Do you want me to do it?” Nordamen’s watery eyes were filled with sympathy and understanding.
“No. No, I’ll do it. It’s my responsibility.”
Nordamen nodded but remained beside him, his mere presence bestowing encouragement. Graely realized how much he hated being alone, how much he missed having Kaevin at his side. He cleared his throat.
“Friends… Today we bid farewell to three souls whose lives were cut short by malicious intent. Their deaths leave a hole in our hearts that cannot be filled by any others. We will never know what good they might have accomplished had they lived their full lifespans.
“To say I understand the reason evil was allowed this victory would be a lie. To say we will miss them seems a hollow promise. To say we will avenge their deaths is against the commands of our God. Yet should we let this day throw us into fear and despair? Should we allow Vindrake’s iniquity to triumph because we’ve lost our courage?
“No! If we give up the battle, these three have died in vain. If we lose hope, their martyrdom is worthless. There is naught we can do to restore these souls to our world, for they have passed on to a better one. All we can offer is our own lives—to live or die in sacrifice—protecting the innocent, fighting against evil, following right with unwavering steps. Only in this way do their deaths have meaning and purpose.
“Yet this sentiment is for tomorrow. Today, we mourn. We shed our tears, recalling their lives, holding fast to the memory of their faces. Today, we cry for them. Tomorrow, we live for them. Today…” He choked, realizing tears were pouring from his eyes. “Today, we weep.”
Graely lifted his hand, and the pyre was lit. He turned his head, unable to watch, though the bodies were covered up for dignity. His eyes fell on Morvaen, who stood uncharacteristically still, his eyes closed, his face contorted in grief. Arista was weeping openly, her head buried in her mother’s arms.
Standing alone to the side, Markaeus appeared small and lost. With his head bowed and his blond hair falling forward to hide his face, his shoulders shuddered as he sobbed into his fist.