Leave it to his resilient wife to find humor in the grimmest circumstances. He adjusted her in his arms so that he bore most of her weight, and slowly stood. She lost her footing on the slippery ground, clutching his shoulders to stay upright.
“Sorry,” she said. “I still have ribbons for legs.”
He kissed her forehead. “No apologies. You’ve survived an ordeal that would have killed another. I doubt any would hold a stumble against you. Not even Anhuset.”
“I can’t imagine Anhuset ever stumbling over anything.”
“Just her tongue when Serovek is near.”
His remark elicited another laugh from her before her features turned somber. “You sacrificed the last of your magic to save me, didn’t you?”
That was a conversation for another time and certainly another place. Brishen tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. “It was a necessity, not a sacrifice Ildiko, and I’d do so again without hesitation.” He hugged her lightly. “Right now I need to get both of us up this hill before the fog truly sets in.” He stepped back to inspect her mud-splattered form. “Are you in any pain? Can you stand on your own?”
She shook her head at the first question and nodded at the second, then tilted her chin to where the Kai lay not far away, still unmoving. “What about him?”
Brishen followed her gaze. “That’s why I asked if you could stand. I need to leave you for a moment to make sure he’s dead.” He focused his attention back on her. “Do you know who he is?”
It was difficult for him to read emotion in human eyes, but the sorrow and anger in Ildiko’s was unmistakable. “No, but I know whom he serves.” She closed her eyes for a moment. “I’ve much to tell you.”
He stroked her arms, claws passing over her skin, with only hints of the bruises and scratches there. Even the knife slash on her arm was nothing more than a raised pink line. “And I you, but we’ll do so on the way home. Wait here.”
As he thought, the Kai tasked with guarding Ildiko was dead. He lay among the stone rubble, his eyes a dull ochre now as he stared at nothing, his neck twisted at an odd angle. Like Ildiko, he’d taken a tumble down the slope. He hadn’t been so lucky as her.
With the rain gone, birds left their sheltered trees and took to the sky. Some chose to scour the ground for food, including awake of vultures who landed not far from where the dead Kai lay. A pair of crows soon joined them. All watched Brishen, patient in their waiting, as he stood and walked away, leaving them to their meal.
Ildiko watched his approach, her face wan with quiet horror. “That could have been me had you not saved me,” she said and hugged herself.
He gathered her in his arms. “But it wasn’t you, wife.” He kissed her forehead once more, then both her eyelids. “I saw the rope and trousers in the columbarium. Clever woman, you saved yourself.” The rolling fog had risen to coil around his knees now. Brishen pulled away from her. “We have to go. I’m more surefooted than you and have my claws to grip if needed to climb this hill. You may not be in pain but I doubt you’re strong enough yet to make the climb on your own. Get on my back and I’ll carry you.”
She frowned. “Are you certain? I’ll be a burden.”
He snorted. “You weigh less than my armor. I’m certain.”
She did as he instructed, wrapping her legs around his waist and her arms around his shoulders. Had she been a Kai woman, the ascent would have been much more difficult, much more treacherous, but she was feather-light and held on with the tenacity of lichen on stone. He slipped only once, his heart leaping into his throat as his claws dug into the soft earth to keep his balance. Rocks skittered past them to skip down the slope.
“I’m fine, Brishen,” Ildiko assured him before he could ask her.
They made it to the top without mishap after that. Ildiko slipped off his back and offered him a mischievous smile. “I once compared you to a dead eel, but maybe a nimble goat is more accurate.”
She was a mess of blood-matted hair, torn clothes, and bare feet scratched by brambles. She was also the most beautifulbeing he’d ever beheld. “You’re still the pretty hag,” he said, returning the smile with one of his own that never failed to make her eyes go wide for a moment.
He led her to where the two horses still sheltered under the columbarium’s thatched overhang. Ildiko happily took the flask of tepid water he offered, downing half of it in three gulps before returning it to him with a sheepish look. “Forgive me. I was thirsty.”
Hungry too if he were to guess. He pushed the flask back to her. “Drink as much as you want, but slowly this time or you’ll be sick.”
She refused and pushed it back to him. “I’m done, truly.”
He finished the rest, using most of the remaining water to rinse his mouth of the taste of bile. A vague queasiness still assailed his stomach, and the strange emptiness that carved a trench inside him from the loss of his magic would always remain, along with the grief of knowing he’d destroyed any hope of saving Megiddo. But he had saved his wife, and he comforted himself with the idea that the courageous monk would have approved the sacrifice and done the same himself.
Ildiko didn’t argue when he lifted her onto his horse and mounted behind her. The dead Kai’s mount followed behind them as they rode out of the necropolis grounds to make their way back to Saggara. Brishen kept Ildiko snug against him, one arm resting across her midriff. She leaned back, hands stroking his forearm. “I hope I never see this place again,” she said.
“If the gods play fairly, you never will.” Once they reached Saggara, he’d assign a battalion of Kai soldiers to guard her and Tarawin. As for the woman who’d abducted and impersonated her, there was a gate with a pike waiting for a head to mount on it.
As if Ildiko heard his grim musings, she squeezed his forearm. “No dark thoughts for now, Brishen. We’ve more bleakthings to face when we reach home, but wait until then. Tarawin is safe, and we’re alive and together. Be joyful with me in this moment.”
He reined the horse to a stop. Ildiko twisted in the saddle enough so she could face him with a turn of her head. The combination of grief and fury had returned to mar her features, but faded when he tilted her chin up. Her lips parted beneath his, her tongue seeking entrance past his teeth to caress the inside of his mouth. His soft groan mimicked hers, and the saddle creaked under them as he gathered her tightly in his arms. When they came up for air, he offered her a second quick peck on the lips.
“I’ve my wife where she belongs, safe in my arms. How can I not find joy in that?” A sudden thought occurred to him, and he reached inside his tunic, pulling out her necklace with its broken chain.
