The Chronicles Of The Council #1: The Sun's Tears

Chapter 46: Caith - Revenge

“The best revenge is to be unlike him who performed the injury.” - Marcus Aurelius

The struggles of Ligtland, the eternal strife raging among my family members, and all the other things weighing heavily on me pass out of existence for a fleeting moment. As I hold Aebbé, I wish that the moment would last longer than is acceptable to do so. The perfect moment of tranquility ends too abruptly as I let go of her, slightly pushing her away - as if erasing this brief stretch of my humanity from my melancholic existence.

Aebbé's eyes flit away from mine. The awkward silence stretches on as we make our way back to the shelter through the pelting rain. Her straightened shoulders slump when she curls into a ball at her mare' s side before the tawny mare replies by nuzzling against her.

An uninvited smile creeps up my face, signalling that the odd moment from before has passed. “I haven't had fun like that in the longest of times.” My fingers furl around her shoulder. The water withdraws from her clothes and forms a ball in my hands. Her eyes remind me of a little runaway rabbit as they regard the ball of water forming in my palms. Her astonishment grows as I offer the ball to the horses who happily lap it up.

The storm passes after hours of tumultous downpour. My spirit lifts as the skies clear, rejoiced at knowing that the sweltering heat has been reigned in.

However, the mud slow the horses down and it is but a matter of time before they will reach the end of their limits. The hollowness in my heart grows as our pursuers continue to gain on us. I have always detested the incapacitating feeling of being powerless, and the cold rage at my brother's devastating effects as he draws closer to victory takes root as Aebbé's mare sways before her legs give in.

An egotistical smile pulls at my mouth corners when Aebbé chooses to call my name as they tumble to the ground. “Caith!” Her head hits the ground, the bulk of the horse pinning her down.

I make my way towards them, taking a long look at the light threatening to leave my horse's eyes.

He just has to hold until we reach the abandoned town that crawls closer on the horison.

I kneel down and pull her from underneath, her hitched breath almost similar to the ragged breaths of the mare. The dagger reflects in the sunlight as I unsheathe it.

Her fingertips hover above my arm before she places them on it, like a gentle kiss. “I should do it.”

This time my breath hitches. This woman is offering to do the unthinkable herself.

The simple nod I give her when I hand her the dagger doesn't nearly do the complexity of my thoughts justice.

Aebbé scoots closer to her horse, lovingly taking the mare's head into her lap. With fingers slender and nimble, she strokes her mane. She brings her head close to her horse and whispers caressing words for the last time. “I am sorry, girl. I know you would have wanted a long life and raised a lot of fillies. I’m sorry that I pushed you too hard the past few days.”

The decisive flick of her wrist precedes the crimson spilling onto her lap. My horse neighs beside me, before it stomps the ground in horror as the metallic smell of blood fills our nostrils.

Allowing Aebbé a moment of mourning - too short to be adequate for the overwhelming grief she must be feeling - I wait before placing my hand on her shoulder.

With her tears threatening to break through, she gives a silent sniffle. Desert's head and soulless eyes fall to the ground as Aebbé stands up.

“My horse will only be able to carry the both of us for a short while, but it will help us to reach that town there. It should offer us a better vantage point than this open nothing.”