Chapter 41
It took two nights for Azriel and those able-bodied enough to make their way across the battlefield and collect the dead. The instructions were clear: dhemons, fae, and mages were to be brought to the southern encampment where they could see to each of their customs.
Amongst the dead, they found Kholp. When had he died? He’d been close to Azriel at the start, yet didn’t seem to make it much further than halfway to the gates.
Pol’s body was recovered thanks to Madan’s quiet directions. Something had happened between the two on the battlefield that Azriel did not want to question. Nothing short of shame dulled his brother’s eyes at the mention of the high fae. Still, it didn’t compare to the pained cries from Haen, mildly injured but alive, and Edira, who’d been summoned on crutches from the medic tent.
At the foot of the Hub’s wall, a familiar dhemon woman was pulled free of the stone wreckage: Cinisja. The one Azriel hadmet on his way through the Eastern Passage to Algorath. She’d followed them to the end, just as she’d promised.
Valenul soldiers were to be brought to the Hub, where they could be identified by their living counterparts, then put to rest. The Rusans and Caersans who joined their army were a bit of an anomaly, but their remains were delivered to camp with the hope of uncovering the name of each person. Amongst them, an unarmored, yet crimson-clad man that Azriel couldn’t quite make out through the blood was claimed to have been found beneath a pile of Valenul soldiers.
Dragons, too large to be moved, were to be burned on the battlefield under the close supervision of magic-wielders who’d been practicing their techniques with Phulan for keeping the dragonfire contained.
A total of five dragons had died in the fighting. Fasj when she attacked the Hub’s walls. H’ask, the poisonous red dragon, was killed alongside his bondheart, Ygret, when they attacked the backside of the Valenul army. Two young dragons had also found their end when one was trapped beneath a metal net and the other’s bondheart was killed on the field.
But it was the largest of the dragons that drew Azriel’s attention when they finally reached him at the gates of the Hub. Half-buried in snow drifts, the deep red of Mhorn’s scales almost disguised the dried and frozen blood that coated his chest around the huge ballista still firmly lodged there. With his golden eyes still open, staring at a distant place that Azriel’s living mind could not comprehend, it almost appeared as though Mhorn were awaiting his next instructions.
Only…the last instructions he truly took to heart had been those that killed him.
Razer’s heavy footfalls crunched through the snow as Azriel swept the piles of white ice from Mhorn’s huge face. Warmthbillowed from the great blue dragon as he blew, not fire, but heat from his mouth to melt the snow from the red dragon.
“You weren’t supposed to be here,” Azriel murmured, breaking an icicle from the massive spiraling black horn dangling over Mhorn’s face. “You were supposed to be protecting the clutch.”
They’d moved the great eggs to the southern mountains to keep them close in the event that Loren had a plan to search cave systems during the battle. Keeping the clutch close meant they could rally together to guard them from the villainous King. It wasn’t supposed to be a way for Mhorn to shirk his duties and fly into battle.
“It’s my fault.” The small voice said as Almandine and Ariadne made their way towards them.
The huff of indignation from Razer preceded his rumbling words. “No one could convince Mhorn of anything.”
But Almandine raised her head a touch, her dark eyes glittering with the movement. Though dragons could not cry, a regretful sorrow seeped through the vinculums as she looked over Mhorn’s body. “Perhaps, but telling him that you needed his help had him demanding I stay with the clutch while he fought.”
While he fought. Mhorn didn’t even get the chance to fight. Not before taking the huge pike for Razer.
Not before saving both their lives.
Ariadne laid a hand on her bondheart’s shoulder. “You did what you believed to be right.”
“I knew I couldn’t do much in terms of battle,” Almandine explained, though by Ariadne’s unshifting expression, Azriel had the feeling the two of them had already discussed her absence on the field that night. “So I went to the one who could.”
A long silence followed the proclamation. The young dragon lowered her nose to Mhorn’s face and exhaled a curl of smoke—aloving gesture typically reserved between dragons for those they considered family.
“I’m sorry for causing this loss,” Almandine finally whispered. “I know he meant a lot to you.”
Azriel swallowed hard. After spending the last year and a half being angry and bitter towards his father’s bondheart, he wished he had just one more moment with the dragon. A moment to apologize for his stubbornness and ire. It’d been misplaced. Mhorn had only ever done as the Crowe asked of him: he protected Azriel, even when Azriel had been ungrateful for the sacrifices made since his father’s death.
For severing the vinculum had been a sacrifice that Azriel hadn’t understood until he faced war, when he asked Razer to do the same, given Azriel’s death. When Kall and Bindhe had died together, he’d realized that even if he couldn’t be with Ariadne in this life, someone who knew his heart like no other should. Razer was that someone. And their agreement to sever the vinculum in the event of one of their deaths made Azriel understand that Mhorn leaving the Crowe to die alone had been one of the most difficult decisions he ever had to make.
So Azriel shook his head and laid a hand on Almandine’s nose. “This isn’t your fault.”
And for the first time since experiencing it first-hand, Azriel shared the memory of his father’s final moments. Images of Ehrun leering down at him, ax in hand and ready to strike, then Azazel the Crowe stepping between them to give Azriel the chance to run. Only when his broken leg gave out did his father flounder just enough for Ehrun’s blade to come down and the Crowe give Mhorn his final command.
No…
The final plea of a father desperate to save his son.
“Protect him.”
Then Azriel turned and crouched beside Mhorn’s face. “He did precisely what my father asked of him and kept me safe.” He smiled grimly over his shoulder at Almandine. “You merely gave him the opportunity to ensure it.If you hadn’t…”
