Our eyes lock; neither blinks. That would be the key that unlocks our next attack.
This isn’t just a fight. It’s something more.
If this is the last person I will speak to, I want to share my entire truth. “Our kings respect us when we hold a sword, honor us when we kill, and sing songs about our victories, but when we die… when wedie,”—my voice grows colder than the death surrounding us—“we become nothing to them! Merely failures who should have fought harder! We’re left to the birds and predators of these lands because using time and resources to honor our bodies is a waste.”
“That’s why you burn the bodies.” He speaks to me with high respect and even dips his chin, which places his face closer to the edge of my blade.
Make no mistake, this is not him giving up; he will fight me to the death because, like any honorable warrior, he will give me the best fight he has until his dying breath. Or mine.
“That is why,” I echo.
“You would bury my kind if you could,” he states with assurance.
“Ihaveburied them.” Tristen, Ember, Ryker, Nero, Cyrus, and I did so when no one was looking. Instead of resting, we returned to the battlefield and dug graves. The sheer number of corpses overwhelmed us. We did the best we could.
I hope that one day, if my brother and I lie dead on a field, someone—it doesn’t matter who—will take the time to burn my body and set my pain free.
A sword to the heart is a death I could accept, but knowing my flesh will be pecked open by the birds, then my inners ripped apart and devoured by the true beast of this world, that was a fate I didn’t want attached to my name, whether my name was to be forgotten or sung throughout history.
He raises an eyebrow. “Night hides many secrets that your king would have killed you for.”
How does he know we buried the bodies during the night? My swallow causes my neck to rub against his sword. “It kept the birds at bay.”I admit as if the act was nothing. But it was everything to me. My apology for having killed another, so myself and my siblings could live. I am truly sorry.
He grunts. “Why do you cover up your honor with lies? You want their bodies to be respected.”
“Why do you speak when we should be fighting?” Without warning, I push back and to the left, twisting sideways to avoid the tip of his sword.
We start the dance again, each of us circling for the next opening.
“They were wrong to erase the runes from our lands.” He steps closer, forcing our dance to be intimate.
“You’re mad!” I refuse to be killed by a lunatic. “Runes are myths.”
He levels me with a stare that makes me feel stupid. “All things serve dual purposes. Perhaps I am mad, but I plead thetruth. The runes brought stability and also gluttony. Balance and contrast make definitions. Look at you, for example.”
“I’m a soldier. If I’m ordered to kill, I obey.” Because my neck is on the line, and my brother’s is too.
“But you also bury the dead.Allthe dead. You create a balance.”
Continuing this conversation is a dangerous road to walk down, but it’s trotting downhill; I’m forced to keep going rather than turn around and endure a more strenuous path. “It means nothing.” I inhale; my lungs push against my stiff clothing, layers of leather and metal.
His laugh startles me. “It means everything,” he declares.
What in the name of all the gods is happening? It is a risk, but I take it, moving my eyes off him to look around us. The longer I engage in this bizarre conversation, the farther and farther it is from my ears, yet it’s right here next to me.
As I look, I watch fellow soldiers swing their swords; some miss their marks, while others land, and some fall to their knees as exhaustion claims victory. Lingering magic fades, mirroring the soldiers’ demise.
I tilt my head and listen. Peace fills my ears instead of horrors.
Why can’t I hear the battle?
I can see it. Wait, it’s still moving slower. Or is it my tired eyes?
My gaze whip back to him as one would force a horse to run faster. My stomach knots so tight I fear it will never taste a meal that can settle it. The fear in my body spreads like a poison throughout my blood.
My eyes don’t deceive me. It’shimcausing the soldiers surrounding us to move more slowly. As if they are snowflakes, slowly drifting down instead of the strong, pelting rain.
“What magic is this?” I demand. He doesn’t have to answer me, but he likes to talk to his prey.
