Empire of Ashes

Chapter XLV - Lost and Found

Well ... some of you sorta guessed it. Sorry not sorry but like when has anything ever gone right for Lyra? Anyway, you'll get the next chapter in a week because I'm ahead of myself again.

"Lyra," the voice repeated, more certain this time. "Is that you?"

I searched the faces desperately, looking for some familiar features beneath all the dust and grime. Tem squeezed my arm, pulling me closer to him as the people around us reshuffled themselves to let a man crawl towards us. At first, I didn't recognise him. How could I? It had been moons, and his face was swollen in several places, darkened by bruises and far gaunter than I remembered.

"Ronan," I said. The word tasted strange on my tongue. It took me back to the long evenings learning to read in a barn with the other village children. We had all brought food to his lessons as payment: a jar of honey one week, a pint of milk the next, and for some reason I could suddenly smell his mix-and-match lunches cooking while we had traced our letters.

"We looked for you," he marvelled. "That boy, the one you ran with, he was asking around for weeks. Someone said you'd been taken out of the column before we crossed the border, and I s'pose he musta gave up."

"Tom?" I hardly dared voice it, because I had never dared hope that he had even survived the massacre in our village... "Tom is alive?"

I got a nod and a smile. "He was three days ago, anyway. Three levels up. Kriss is above him."

"And is anyone else—"

"Moira and Ike and their oldest son are on the other hill. The teenagers from the apple orchard are working the horses, and I've heard Seren is alive, but I've not seen her with my own eyes."

That wasn't even a dozen. There had been more than a hundred villagers. I was very conscious that we had an audience, so I choked back every drop of emotion I could catch before it reached my face. But the relief of knowing that Tommas, that anyone had survived this long...

"That's it?" I asked. "That's everyone?"

"More of us made it here, but people drop like flies, Lyra. The workload is too high." He shook his head. "I reckon I've got another moon in me yet."

"Yes, well, we might be able to do something about that." I looked expectantly at Temris, since he was the speech-maker and the spider at the centre of this web, and he didn't need any further encouragement.

"Can you still swing a sword?" he asked.

Ronan's eyes seemed to acquire a new light. I hadn't noticed it was missing until it reappeared, which was strange, but empty, uncaring expressions were normal in this place. "I would give my life to hold a blade one more time, Ragnyr. Swing it? I could cut my way through the entire Anglian army."

I knew he had been a warrior in his youth because he had told us countless stories about beating off Sihon raids and raiding them in turn. I also knew he had broken his sword arm, and it hadn't healed properly, but I wasn't about to injure his pride in front of so many men.

"I'm glad to hear it," Tem snorted. "What about the rest of you?"

Another chorus of, "Aye, Ragnyr," and "Yes, Ragnyr," and one particularly enthusiastic, "Like a bloody berserker, Ragnyr," deafened us.

"Good. What about the southerners?"

They had to think about this one. One man offered, "They are mostly farmers, Ragnyr, but swinging a pick isn't so different."

Tem nodded solemnly. "Then I think it's about time we got you all out of here."

The excitement in the air was tangible. Dusty as it was, it seemed to crackle with energy and tension. Every voice cut a bit sharper than a moment before. The northerners must have suspected something was afoot as soon as they saw their warlord's face, but hearing it said was another thing.