Somethingsharp.
Isaacput pressure on his uncle’s chest.“The sword!”
Zarialooked at the blade in her hand.
“Giveme the sword!”
One ofhis lungs was punctured.He had to drain the blood.If he tore a hole in thepleural cavity, and flipped him onto hisside, the blood would not fill his lung.But there was already an ecstasy ofblood sloshing from his throat, and his breaths were rattled with fluid, andIsaac knew the damage was far worse than whatever meager aid he could manage toprovide.Still, he had to try.
Hisuncle was drowning.
Theblood was bright red.It must’ve come from an artery, because blood from theveins was a darker hue.If he could pinch the tube....
Aorta.Carotid.Subclavian.
Diagrams.
Diagrams.
Diagrams—
Berith’sgrip tightened on his arm.
Isaactried to flip his uncle onto his side.His arm was weak, and the cauterizedskin was a screaming pain, and he was likely screaming himself.“Give me thesword, Zaria!”
Berith’sgrip tightened again.His face was as pale as the bones.
“Yes, yes,I’m here,” Isaac said, gripping him back.“I’m sorry, I ...made the plan, Icouldn’t stop her.I didn’t think....”
Berithshook his head.For a few sucking moments, he tried to speak.
“You ...you....”
Hegurgled.Blood glistened on blackened robes.
“Youdeserved....”
Twopairs of blue eyes gazed into each other.After a moment, one of them wentglassy and still.Berith’s head fell to the stone, the unspoken words fadinglike a gentle sigh.
Theworld seemed to fade away.Suddenly, Isaac felt as if he had never left hishome, as if all that he had seen and learned on his journey had been only anillusion, a dream of fantasy and want.As he stared at the body of his uncle,there was only his routine, once again.
“Isaac.”
Training.The morning sun.Grass and sweat and pain.Books lit by candlelight.Warmmeals, a clever debate, a sneaking of cider.
A handon his shoulder.“Isaac.”
Thesneer.The shouts echoing through the tower.The lack of satisfaction.Theconstant demands, the gaze that always seemed to guess his thoughts, but alsothe books, the jokes, the rare moments of mercy.The small nod whenever masterywas achieved.
Thesmile.
Hecould remember every smile.
“Isaac!”
Helooked up at Zaria, yanked from memory.She was craning her head to the sky.
Thecolossus was moving again.
