Empire of Ashes

Chapter XCII - Healing

How are we all this fine evening? What stage of grief have we reached? Bargaining? Anger? Depression? Acceptance? Still hanging out in denial? :P

The next morning, before the sun had even crested the horizon, I was bundled onto Nightmare's back. Anlai climbed up behind me and held me steady, and I could sleep with my head against his shoulder without fear of falling.

Every few hours, we would stop and I would be hoisted onto a new horse with a new backstop. Melia was my favourite, if only because her tunic smelt like honey and her shoulder was at the perfect height. Holding me in place seemed to exhaust even the seasoned warriors, and the horses struggled to move at any great speed while we rode double, but there was no alternative.

It was difficult to sleep when every step Nightmare took made my stomach churn and squeeze itself into little knots. Every hour or so, I would have to ask the others to stop so I could sit and retch on the side of the road. Nothing came up, of course. My last meal had been bread and wine in the northerners' chambers, and that had been three nights past.

We could have stolen supplies from some poor farmer, but we had not seen a single house. This land was too boggy to plant crops and too riddled with sinkholes to keep livestock, so nobody lived here.

When dusk fell, there was barely a quarter league between us and the soldiers, so we didn't dare stop. They led the horses for a few hours more, until finally Glyn's pony stopped in his tracks. His nostrils were flaring, and he was drenched in sweat, and no amount of shouting or force would convince him to move any further. Not even Anlai was willing to take a whip to the poor creature.

There were only trees for shelter, but we made camp right there. We had little option. It was the hour after midnight, and we couldn't afford to leave the pony behind. I was shaking with cold and a final sort of exhaustion. I couldn't support my own head, let alone dismount, and I spent most of my time in a strange, dream-like daze where nothing felt real except the throbbing in my arm and the heat beneath my skin.

The night was shorter, if only because I spent less time conscious and more time in the deep, inescapable sleep that was reserved for the comatose and the dying. When I fell, I fell a little too far, a little quickly, and there was always a moment when I knew I could wake myself up right before I hit the bottom. I never took it. I was always hoping that I would fall further — into the place from which there was no return.

We were in the yard, and Emri was taking her first steps. I was crouched on the cobblestones, arms outstretched to catch her, and I was grinning from ear to ear. We had been working at it for days now. She wasn't yet a year old, and I was only thirteen.

Again and again, Emri lifted a wobbly foot and inched forwards. Five paces between us became three, and then one... But when she was barely hand's breadth from my fingertips, she stopped in her tracks and stared at me, those golden eyes wide as saucers.

"Come on. It's not far. One foot in front of the other," I laughed.

She shook her head vigorously. Mouth ajar, brow tight, hands shaking — she looked absolutely terrified. I looked over my shoulder, trying to see what had scared her, but there was no one there. The yard was deserted except for the two of us.

"What is it, Em?" I asked her, straightening my knees.

And then she turned around and ran as fast as her wobbly legs could manage. She stumbled and picked herself up time and time again, as if the winds of the abyss itself were nipping at her heels. She went into the house, and a moment later I ducked through the door. There was no sign of her — the main room was as empty as the yard outside.