Warmoon [ONC 2020]•[Shortlisted]•[Honorable Mention List, Stunning Worlds]

24. Homecoming

Total Word Count: 35,953

The evening sky was a riot of color, rich purple aflame with orange and gold. Rhoa sat on the ridgepole of the Keep roof, staring out across the marsh. Perhaps it was her imagination, but even the air seemed clearer now. She could see all the way across the plains to the mountains, the jagged line of their white snowcaps floating on the horizon sixty miles to the north.

Everywhere she looked, there were signs that the earth was healing. The marsh grass was nearly waist high again, the green of it shocking even in the dusky light of sunset. With it, the wildlife was returning. Here and there she could make out the hunched forms of the long-necked, long-beaked birds that had gone when the fish did. Their presence meant small water animals were coming back. The hare Kry had trapped that morning was further evidence that nature was conquering the damage done by the Rot.

Rhoa scanned the north road, that tiny, irrepressible spark of hope kindling again. Maybe, if the hare could survive out there, her parents and the boys had too.

Her gaze strayed to the line of new graves atop the hill across the valley. Twenty-six mounds of white stones, twenty-six saplings planted to commemorate the twenty-six people lost under the Warmoon. Ten of them had died in the fight with Kry, three out on the marsh. All but one of the others had been ended by her crossbow, and no matter what she did or told herself, the weight of all those white stones rested heavy on her shoulders.

Not all that had been lost could come back.

Rhoa found the last grave on the right, its slender sapling already bearing clumps of white flowers. Orla hadn't been taken by the Rot, but she hadn't made it off the hill. Phane and Gran had found her tucked into a cleft of rocks where she had tried to hide from the others, but her injuries had been too severe. She was already gone.

Setting the monster free had hardly come without a price, but the price of keeping it locked up had been much greater, which only made Rhoa question everything about being a Keeper.

The sun had nearly set. It would be night soon. With a last, parting glance at the graves, she turned and slid down the roofing slates and hopped off at the bottom, dropping a yard to land one-footed on the broad parapet walk that surrounded the top of the Keep.

As she crutched along the wall to the roof access in the south tower, something caught her attention in the ravine below the fortress.

Torches.

Frowning, she came to a halt and leaned out through the nearest crenel, craning to get a better look.

More torches were visible now, moving quickly through the trees. There were five of them, approaching the tunnel exit.

Rhoa swung around, her heart beating like mad as she shoved through the south tower door and began hobbling down the stairwell as fast as her ruined leg would let her.

°°°°°ººººº°°°°°

Phane, Gran, and the children were all in the kitchen, sitting at the table when Rhoa limped in from the Great Hall.

"Someone's coming up the tunnel."

Without waiting for more, Phane shot out of his seat, reaching for the sword slung from the back of his chair. "How many?"

"Five. Maybe more," Rhoa said, pulling on a pair of gauntlets. She had already stopped in the Armamentary to grab her knife belt and her throwing axes. "Where is Kry?"

"Seeing to the sheep he brought up from the village," Phane muttered, giving her a hard glance on his way past her.

Kry would be in the stables, then. Alone.