“Not yet.” She presses harder. “He's almost here. Rodvek. Come back. The way Kovren comes back. Come back.”
The armor plates on Rodvek's body are shifting. Moving. The fused metal is separating from his skin, peeling away in sheets that fall to the stone floor with a ringing that fills the hall. Underneath, skin. Bronze and rough, the same texture as mine. Scarred, damaged, but skin.
His face emerges last. The metal mask cracks down the center and falls in two pieces, and underneath is a face I know.Sharp features, hollowed by years and rage, but his. Rodvek's. The eyes are amber now, not gold, and they are looking at me.
“Kovren.” His voice. Not the grinding metal. His. Rough and broken and his. “Brother.”
I cross the hall in three strides. Maren steps aside, stumbling, and I catch her with one arm and reach for Rodvek with the other. He's smaller than the creature was. Still massive, still Bogatyr, but the twisted proportions are gone, the monstrous bulk shed with the armor. He's thinner than I remember.
He falls.
I catch him. Lower him to the stone floor, his weight against my chest, my arm around his shoulders. Maren drops to her knees beside us, her hands already moving, checking his pulse, his breathing, the places where the armor tore free from his skin.
“The children,” Rodvek says. His eyes are searching my face. “She said they escaped.”
“All of them. Every one. You held the line long enough.”
His face crumples. Not the berserker's rage. A man's grief. Eight years of it, trapped behind the fury, breaking free at once.
“I thought I failed.” The words come out barely audible. “I thought they all died. The rage told me they died and I couldn't stop believing it.”
“The rage lied.” I hold him tighter. “You did it, Rodvek. You saved them.”
He makes a sound. A breath that carries everything in it. His hand comes up, grips my forearm, and the grip is weak. He's fading. Not dying. Releasing. The oath that kept him alive, kept the rage burning, is dissolving now that it knows it was fulfilled.
“You found an anchor.” He's looking at Maren. His eyes are clear. “I can feel it. The bond. It's strong.”
“She found me,” I say.
“Good.” His grip on my arm loosens. “That's good, brother.”
“Rodvek.”
“It doesn't hurt.” He looks up at the open sky above the ruined hall, the stars just visible through the broken roof. “I thought it would hurt. But it doesn't.”
“Stay.” My voice breaks. “Rodvek. Stay.”
“I can't. You know I can't.” He turns his head, finds my face again. “The oath is paid. The rage is gone. There's nothing holding me here.”
“I'm holding you here.”
“You're letting me go.” His hand tightens once on my arm. Brief. Strong. “The way I should have let you go when you wanted to save that village. I should have let you go and come with you.”
“Don't.”
“Goodbye, Kovren.” His voice is steady. Clearer than it's been since the armor fell. “Take care of your anchor. She walked straight at me and didn't flinch. Don't let that one go.”
“I won't.”
“And learn to make tea properly. I never could. At least one of us should know how.”
The sound that comes out of me is not a laugh. It's too broken for that. But it's close.
His eyes close. His body relaxes against mine. His breathing slows, each exhale longer than the last, until there's nothing but stillness and the press of his body against mine.
My brother is dead.
I hold him.
