“You’re seriously going through with this?”

I stop mid-fold and take a deep breath before I turn to face Terue again. This is the third time I’ve had to stop packing up my gear to talk back to him, and it’s all I can do not to bite his head off at this point. I’m tense and tired and still a long way from recovered from the night before last, and the fatigue’s just making me cranky at this point.

It’s not his fault, though. Not really. He’s as frustrated as I am, I think. He’s still one of my best friends, he’s made that very clear ever since we managed to defuse the situation after the battle, but after everything there’s no denying that something’s definitely changed between us. We’d be fools to say it hasn’t.

In the end, though he’s just mad that he’s going to be losing me, and I feel the same. When I look up he’s putting a brave face on it, mostly he just looks concerned, but I can see the anger all the same, hands balled into fists the way they’ve been throughout this whole conversation. He has to unclench one to shove that ever-unruly lock of hair out of his face, but that in itself is enough giveaway, a familiar nervous tic I know well.

“Yes. I’m going through with it.” I sigh, trying to be as gentle as I can with my tone of voice even if I know I can’t with my words. “I can’t do this anymore, not now. I’m tired of everyone walking on eggshells around me, and having to do the same myself. Even my mother … she’s trying very hard to pretend that everything’s the same as it was before, but I know it’s not. Even if I was in the right … I turned on her. I turned on all of you.”

“Maybe you did, but you’re right there too, you were in the right. You had just cause to go against Min, she made a bad choice, and you fixed things before it got too bad.” He shrugs, but he’s still so tight, all the way through. “But that’s no reason to –”

“Oh for the god’s …” I throw my hands up with a growl and turn away from him fast, determined not to keep snapping at him. “I’m out of sorts, Terue, and so is everybody else. You’re still cool about it because you love me, because you’re kind of an idiot sometimes. In a good way. And I know there are others who are the same. But some … there’s too much bad blood now, and I’m tired. I can’t stay. Not now.”

“But them? You’re going with them. After what they did? Okay, okay …” He throws his own hands up, far more in supplication, when I turn back to him. “You’re right, they had just cause too, it couldn’t be helped, and you did say they tried not to. But seriously, these people, I mean … we tried to kill ‘em, and they tried to kill us right back. And now you’re all chummy and you’re gonna go with ‘em. I hate it. It makes no sense at all.”

That makes me grin a little, but there’s little humour to it. “I wouldn’t say we’re chummy. Some of them might be warming up to me, but there’s still a long way to go before I earn their trust. But they’re good people, in spite of what happened. And they offered in the first place, which is more than I expected. It was either go with them, or I’d have to light out on my own. And I am definitely not ready for that.”

Terue’s frown deepens. “So you’re leaving regardless. Even if they hadn’t made the offer, you’d still be going.”

My sigh is deeper this time, truly one of the weariest ones I’ve ever let out. “Yes, I most definitely am.” I return to my packing, folding the jerkin one last time before transferring it to the satchel and stuffing it in with the rest. Finally done. At last.

Min did the best she could to smooth things over in the hours after the battle finally came to an end, at least once we were finally able to dig ourselves out through the exit and stagger our way back up into the keep. In truth the fight had largely gone out of our people by then anyway, when we arrived in that big room again we found Driver 8 stood guard over the doorway while the few remaining survivors held an uneasy vigil from a very wary distance. Mostly they were just tending their wounded and trying not to seem anything like a threat. A few went for their weapons when we re-emerged, but Min was quickly able to wave them down, and at the time I think it was mostly just relief that it was all over that finally stayed their hands.

Similarly, when we reached the courtyard we found Yeslee camped out just inside the torn gateway, not even nocked anymore, a few more shot corpses sprawled outside while everyone else was maintaining what cover they could. The others were relieved to see her alive, especially given what we’d seen Grol had done to the staircase on our way down, but I can’t say I was very surprised, having seen just what she’s really capable of. Ultimately everyone else seemed as happy to stand down as those we’d encountered before.

Even so, the early hours of the morning were unbearably tense as everyone went about their after-battle business. From tending the wounded to feeding the fatigued survivors, not to mention seeing to a lot of dead on our side … to be honest I was almost relieved when I finally collapsed from my own exhaustion after the resurrection ritual. When I woke up in the early afternoon things had been brought to something like a resolution, and Kesla and her people were being treated mostly as barely tolerated guests as they tended to their own hurts. But things had definitely … changed for me and mine.

Walking on eggshells … yeah, that’s pretty much what it’s been like in the twenty-four hours since, and it definitely factored into my decision when I got up again this morning. People have been … unusually polite around me. I can see it all very much for what it is, no matter how carefully most of them are behaving. Some are as sorry for how it went down as I am, but others are still, clearly, pretty angry with me, a few barely able to hide their open hostility. Certainly those who’ve been warmest towards me have been my closest friends, like Terue and what’s left of my old crew, but even with them there’s been tension from things left unsaid. Conversations I’m definitely not willing to have.

It was worst with my mother, of course. She’s made it abundantly clear that she doesn’t think any differently about me now than she did before Ashsong entered our lives, but the more she says it the more clear it’s become that she’s really having trouble with it. That betrayal’s cutting into her as much as it does me, try as she might to sweep it under the rug, and it’s making our relationship worse than it’s ever been before. I can’t let it go on any more, in truth I think some distance can only help us right now. When I dropped that one on her she found it pretty difficult to argue with my logic.

Strapping up the satchel, I let it settle and turn to the sword-belt next to it on what I’m wary to continue calling my bed. I let the strap fall loose as I pick it up and thankfully it hasn’t tangled, so I’m able to buckle up with ease, surprised by how well it already fits me. Terue arches his brows looking down at it, and there’s some appreciation in his face now.

I wasn’t the one to deliver the killing blow to Ashsong, but Kesla didn’t want his sword afterwards, she’s happy with her own, and it is a magnificent weapon, mundane as it may be compared to this one. My reasoning was that Gael deserved it more than any of us, given how their own sacrifice won that fight more than anything else, but they didn’t want it either, saying it really isn’t their kind of thing. So I thought maybe Art should have it, since his own sword was broken in the fight, but he said it was too big for him, too unwieldy a handful like Kesla’s. So Kesla gave it to me instead, saying that, in the face of all the loss, she thought I deserved it more than anyone.

Truth be told, it is a beautiful weapon, fragile as it might look. Surprisingly heavy as well, although no more than a normal longsword, and it’s as strong as dwarven-forged spring steel, with similar flex, so I think its strange crystalline appearance is simply part of the enchantment it holds. I think I need to find out exactly what the weapon is capable of before I can really be comfortable using it, but I’ll admit that, the few times I’ve held it so far, it feels strangely at home in my hands.

“It looks good on you.” Terue says after a moment.

“Maybe. I think it came with more of a cost than I was willing to pay, so I’m not that comfortable with it yet.” I lie.

Terue cocks his brow a little. “I don’t know, you look more like your father with it than you did before.”

That gives me pause, and I study him for a few moments. For the first time I find myself wondering what my father might have thought about what I did, and for the life of me I can’t think of an answer. But a subtle part of me thinks that, perhaps, he might actually have approved, regardless of how it ultimately went.

With a sigh, I pick up my satchel and slip the strap over my head so it’s relatively snug, then shake my cloak out and whip it around so I can swing it up over my shoulders before buckling it in place. Then I pick up my pack and toss it to Terue, followed by my duffel bag. He gives me a pointed look when he barely catches the second, but doesn’t say what he’s obviously thinking. He did offer to help me with my gear, after all.

Finally, I pick up my old sword, cleaned, sharpened and oiled as it fits snug in its new scabbard, and look around the room for a moment. I feel no true nostalgia, I’ve spent plenty of nights here when we’ve inhabited the fortress but it’s never truly felt like a home, just a lodging in a way-station. I’m simply making sure I’m not leaving anything behind I’ll miss on the road.

“Not too late to change your mind, y’know.” Terue sighs, somewhat misreading my pause.

“Yes it is.” I mutter, mostly to myself, walking straight out of the room without bothering to close the door. After a moment I hear Terue’s scuffing footfalls as he scrambles to catch up to my long strides.

Moving through passages and descending stairs, I run into several people on the way, and by and large the interactions I have are swift, polite and more than a little strained, whether they’re definitely still friends or not. Those I feel genuinely raw about parting with I offer a few regret-filled farewells but still move on quickly. It’s only when I’m almost out of the main door into the courtyard that a calling voice brings me up short, but I would’ve stopped for this one if it was merely a whisper.

Nera has to double over a little bit, puffing as she gets her breath back once she reaches us, and we wait patiently for her to regain her composure. She looks me over for a moment when she’s straightened up again and there’s momentary uncertainty just behind her eyes that hurts to look at. It’s gone quickly, though, and all that’s left is a slightly admonishing smile. “Damn it, you walk so bloody fast.”

“Tell me about it.” Terue commiserates, but his tone is gently playful.

“What do you want me to do? Chop my legs down to a normal length? I can’t help being this tall.”

We share a little chuckle for a moment or two, but it still feels a little bittersweet. I can see it, Nera’s finding it hard to keep her smile, but it’s not the lingering disappointment or even anger I see in some of the others. She’s just sad, not that I betrayed her, even if I still feel I did. She’s just sad I’m leaving, just like Terue.

“How’s Lethna?” I ask once it starts to get uncomfortable, but it’s more for my own reassurance than to break the silence. I certainly wasn’t able to work up the courage to go check on her myself when I woke up again, it’s only been second-hand through Terue that I was even assured I didn’t kill her too. That’s still the thing I feel worst about from the other night, not even any of the lives I took.

“Still laid up, and uncomfortable, but she’s gonna be all right eventually, Nill’s sure of it now.” Lethna seems a little uneasy discussing this too, but she’s putting a brave face on. “That fancy cleric had a look at ‘er too, once he was on his feet again. He was sorry he couldn’t actually heal ‘er, but apparently he still ain’t got his mojo or whatever it is back yet.”

“Yeah, well he said it could be another day or so before he can do anything like that. Bringing Gael back nearly killed him.”

“You too, from what I heard.” She’s watching me closely now, not a hint of reproach left. “That was an incredibly brave thing you did.”

“For what it was worth.” I fall back against the wall beside the entrance, sighing heavily.

“Hey,” She steps up to me, reaches up with both hands to take my face and turn it to face hers. She has to crane a bit, she’s a lot shorter than me, but I indulge her. “Stop that. I don’t blame you for that, not for any of it. Neither do a lot of the others, not really. Your mother’s made that as clear as anyone else, that night was not your fault. The others’ll come round in time, but I won’t hear you put yourself down either. Stop punishing yourself.”

“But Lethna, and all the others …” My breathing hitches a little. “She hates me, doesn’t she.”

“No, she doesn’t. She’s pissed at you, but she doesn’t hate you. We talked about it for a while, and she knows you didn’t want to do it any more’n she wanted to kill you. That shit just happened, and you didn’t have a choice. Yeah, she’s hurt, but … she’s alive, and she’ll get better. Worst is she’s got a good scar as a memento.” She shrugs as she steps back, giving me a rueful smile. “For some mad reason you fighters all like that shit.”

I can’t help smiling too at that, weak and pathetic as it might feel on my face. I can’t hold onto it for long though, and I sigh as I push away from the wall again. “I’m still sorry, though. About what happened to you. I’m relieved you’re okay, and your little one, but … I’m still sorry.”

“Don’t do that, that wasn’t your fault either. Your new friend’s already apologised about that, they were proper repentant about it. It was kind of adorable, actually.”

“Yeah, Gael’s a bit … they’re far too young for this, if I’m honest.” I shrug, starting to feel a little better now. “Okay, I’ll try. I promise. I’m just sorry I won’t be around to help you bring this little one into the world.” I put my hand to her belly, still mostly flat and tight, far too early for it to really show yet.

“You’ll come back though, won’t you? You ain’t just gonna ride off and we’ll never see you again, that ain’t fair. I won’t let you.”

Shit … I look at her for a long time, then turn to Terue and see the same hurt uncertainty in his face. The worry that our friendship’s about to end, which is something none of us want, especially me. Gods, I wish I could give them some ironclad promise to keep them going. “I don’t know, really. I’ll try, that’s the best I can give you both. When I can, I’ll try to come back. If only so I can see what that little one turned out like.”

Nera’s on the verge of tears now, I can tell, but she’s fighting it. She manages a shaky smile, muttering: “You better, you big dumb oaf.” Then she can’t hold off anymore, she just throws herself forward and wraps her arms around me and I fold her into a tight hug. We hold onto each other for a long time, both squeezing as hard as either of us dare, and somehow neither of us burst into tears, but I think I’m finding it as hard as Nera must.

She pulls away first, wiping her face quickly as she steps back, and she looks at me for several moments, like she’s committing my face to memory. As if she even needed to, we’ve been thick as thieves for years. “Goodbye.” She barely breathes it, and I can tell she’s still fighting against just breaking down and sobbing right here, then she just walks off without another word. I open my mouth, wanting to call after her, but stop myself, letting her go.

There’s a weight in my chest now, settling in like it wants to stay, and I feel the tears prickling my eyes now. I cast a sidelong glance at Terue, who’s watching me closely, and finally I can’t hold it off anymore. “Fuck …” The word comes out in a sob, and he drops my duffle as he jumps forward, folding me into his arms as I just give in to the opening floodgates.

He rubs my back and gently shushes me as he holds me up. We’re of a height, but while I’m light for someone with orc blood thanks to my father, he’s still a good deal skinnier than me. Even so, he does an admirable job of holding me up as I bawl into his shoulder.

It’s not just parting with my friends, although that has something to do with it. It’s everything, altogether. I think this has been welling up in me for over a day already, and I just have to get it out before I can move on. The fatigue just held it at bay, I think, being so gods-damned dog-tired keeping me distracted until I just stopped thinking about it for more than a few minutes. Now it’s sprung, and it won’t let me off until I’ve had a good cry.

Fuck … I miss them. Tarrow, that poor bastard … he was too young, he didn’t deserve to die like that. He had his whole life ahead of him, didn’t even get a chance to do anything yet. And Garnon, moody, arrogant sod as they might’ve been … they were a good friend. Someone I could trust, that I could rely on no matter what I might’ve been facing.

But it’s Roe, that one hurts most. I know my mother’s cut up about that worse than all the other deaths we’ve suffered in this, although she’s tried hard not to show it. Roe was one in a million, I don’t know if I could ever find a friend like him again. Someone I can trust my life with, yes, but also someone I’d be willing to lay my own down for in a heartbeat. Stubborn bastard just didn’t give me the chance to try.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

And now I’m going to ride off into a world I’ve only ever heard about second-hand from my parents with the very people I’d been trying to kill just a day before I took up arms with. What the fuck? That’s a strange twist of fate and no mistake …

My crying fit seems like it goes on for hours, but I doubt it claims me for more than a few minutes. When I’ve finally beaten it down again and got myself back under control Terue finally lets me go, and I take a deep breath that thankfully doesn’t break when I let it out again, swiping furiously at my eyes and nose with my sleeve. When I look up I expect to find him looking uncomfortable about the whole experience, but he’s just standing by, patient and calm, watching thoughtfully.

“Sorry about that.” I mutter after a moment.

“Don’t mention it. I feel a little weepy myself every once in a while. Dare say you got plenty more reason than I do right now.”

That makes me frown, but I don’t answer back. Instead I give his shoulder a companionable nudge and sigh: “Come on.”

Picking up my baggage, he falls into step behind me as I carry on out the door and into the courtyard. The bonfire’s blazing brightly now, far fewer desultory mourners standing around watching it than expected. I saw it piled high, dozens of corpses spread with kindling ready to burn, when I went back into my room earlier to collect my gear, and it made me feel pretty sick looking at it, but the feeling’s very different now, something more like a cold, dead weight in my gut. Gods, I can’t take that. I look away and do the best I can to ignore it as I skirt as far around the outskirt of the yards as I can to avoid passing through the majority of those who’ve stayed to watch.

The whole way I feel eyes on me, some looks more overt than others. I try not to look back, as much afraid of what I’ll see as I am of provoking a reaction from the openly hostile ones, but I can’t avoid it entirely. There’s resentment here, it’s unavoidable. That blaze is a testament to what we did here. What I did.

We make it to the far side of the yard unmolested and I quickly duck into the passage on the far side, the moderate slope of the tunnel prompting a little speed in my gait that has Terue scrambling once again to keep up. By the time we come out into the open on the other side he’s puffing a little from the effort of keeping up, but I keep going all the same. He decided he wanted to see me off, so he can bloody well work for it.

Emerging into the light once more we find ourselves in the lower courtyard, the wider passage through the gatehouse across the way, and I’m not surprised to find a small gathering of our people here along with Kesla’s band as they prepare their transports. There’s no hostility in any of the faces here – those who’ve chosen to come see me off can all clearly still be counted as true friends. The sobering fact is there don’t seem to be that many of them.

They descend on me as soon as we emerge, slowing my progress significantly. I offer my condolences and try to make it through farewells as best I can without starting to cry again, but as I get through more handshakes and hugs I feel my control slipping again. Terue does his work admirably here, deflecting as much of it as he can, helping to keep the mood light, but it still isn’t great right now.

Finally I’m able to join my new travelling companions, who seem to be pretty much ready to go already. My mother was extremely magnanimous with restitutions once we got everything straightened out, their ruined cart replaced with one of our wagons, a more substantial vehicle which is likely to be as much a hindrance as a help where we’re going. At least there’s more room in the back, which is helpful since it’s going to be carrying passengers as well as cargo now.

Wenrich Clearwood is conscious as I approach, but he still seems a little frazzled, blinking some before finally recognising me. To be honest it’s a miracle he’s alive given the weight of what fell on him, but since their cleric’s still out of action on the healing front we had to rely on non-magical medical knowledge to patch him up instead. His right leg’s broken in two places, his left wrist too, while three of his fingers were badly dislocated along with his right shoulder. His head took the worst of it, suffering more serious damage than Art’s glancing stun, but thankfully he still seems to be just about all there. He’s heavily swathed in bandages and well-made splints, and they’ve made him a proper soft nest in the back of the cart so he can recline while he recovers on the road. At least until Krakka can get back in touch with his beloved goddess again.

Gael’s in there with him, although the hope is that they’ll be up and about on their feet again in a few more days, right now they just need to recuperate. They smile the moment they see me, and I can’t help returning it, although I’m not satisfied with how fragile it feels. It’s real, though. Nice to know I’ve definitely already made at least one genuine friend in this group.

Kesla turns to me as she finishes inspecting Trampler’s saddle, looking me over for a moment before turning back to give the great dark horse a gentle pat on the neck that he grunts his appreciation to. Seems they’ve bonded already. Gods … I can’t believe my mother gave up her own mount, she’s more repentant than I thought. Yeslee’s been given one of our biggest shire-horses, which seems to suit her better than the regular horse she had before, and for now she’s clearly happier communing with that beast than taking part in all this.

Truth is I get the distinct impression she doesn’t like me, or at least I don’t think she does. She’s hard to read, I’m starting to feel like she’s the sort of person for whom expressiveness does not come easy, but our few interactions to date have all struck me as being very cold. If I ever do earn the Fir Bolg’s trust it’s clearly going to be hard won.

Maybe she’s still stewing about her arrows. Some of the ones she shot the other night were recovered from the dead and returned to her, but far less than I think she would’ve liked. I think most were probably broken intentionally by grieving friends after being drawn from the bodies.

Finally stepping away from Trampler, Kesla joins me, Art following a moment later after tending his returned filly. As he draws near I toss my bundled sword to him and he stops where he is, inspecting it all. His brow furrows. “I don’t understand …”

“You need a new sword, so you might as well have mine. Take good care of it or I’ll tear you a new one.”

His eyebrows shoot up as he looks at the sword again, then he draws it. Taking a few steps into open ground, he gives it a few flourishes, trying it out, slashing and lunging for a few moments until he’s comfortable with it. It’s longer than his old one, probably heavier too, but comparatively similar enough he shouldn’t take long to adjust to it. Once he’s done he looks it over one last time, giving an appreciative nod as he sheathes it again. “Nice. I like it. Thank you. I’ll show it the proper respect it’s due, I promise.”

“That was generous.” Kesla watches him strap the new scabbard to his sword-belt, adjusting it carefully until it fits comfortably. “Then again, you got quite the upgrade yourself.” She eyes the sword on my hip for a moment before finally looking up at me again.

“I’m still not sure if I’m comfortable with it yet.” I admit “Time will tell.”

She just nods. I get the feeling she wants to say more but holds back. I find myself watching her closely all the same, wondering what she’s thinking, but once again, as often seems to be the case with this one, she’s just too hard to read. She just shrugs and shakes her head. “So you’re sure you want to do this? You can still change your mind, you know. You can stay. This is clearly still your family.”

“Maybe.” I look around the small gathering, a stark representation of just how diminished the company as a whole is after all this. I can’t help feeling this encapsulates the very reason I can’t stay right now. “They’ll still be here, or somewhere in the Reaches if I ever find my way back again. But I need to do this right now. You’re wrong, I don’t really have a choice right now.” I sigh, heavy in my heart as well as everywhere else now. “I’m just glad you’ll have me.”

It takes her a few moments to answer, which is telling enough on its own. “Yeah, well it’s the least we can do since your people wouldn’t take any of the money.”

Ah yes, the money. Kesla briefly voiced the idea that, in light of what we lost, they might be able to help out there. They have a substantial amount of platinum with them, and she offered us half of it to go towards helping out the kin of those who fell in this last battle, but my mother cut her right off from that. Even if there hadn’t been a modest king’s ransom of cash and objects left behind in Ashsong’s effects she wouldn’t have taken it anyway.

“You’re sure you’re good to ride?” she asks after a moment of awkward silence. “The road outta here ain’t gonna be easy, and it’s worse once we’re moving proper. You might be better off with Gael and Master Clearwood. Ain’t like space is at a premium now.”

“No, I think I need to get back in the saddle, literally as well as figuratively. If we’re going to do this I need to be able to pull my own weight.” Kesla gives me another long look after I say this, and there might be some new appreciation in her expression for that, I can’t quite tell. Not that I’d be too surprised – one warrior to another, I think she understands my need for personal autonomy.

“All right, well mount up then. We got some ground to cover, I wanna do it before it gets dark. Sooner we can collect the rest of our gear again the happier I’ll be.” She looks past me for a moment, frowning a touch, then nods, giving me a gentle slap on the side of my arm, a strangely companionable gesture even if it does feel awkwardly delivered. “I’ll give you a minute or two.”

I don’t need to see what she did before she goes back to Trampler, I already know who’s there. Turning round, I see Terue snap to attention through the corner of my eye, the way he always does when my mother’s around. He just can’t help himself, Min the Reckless just has that effect on people, even those she’s known for years.

Gods, she looks tired, it hurts seeing it in her face. Tired and sad and … lost. She’s wearing her hair down, thick black curls spilling over her shoulders, and not a single piece of armour in sight, leather or otherwise. She still projects power simply through her impressively muscular build and imposing height, but her stance is awkward now, jarringly unsure of herself without the weight of all that gear. That hurts to see too.

“Yeah, sorry.” Terue stammers after a moment, scuttling off with unusual clumsiness. Ostensibly to deliver my pack and duffel bag to rest amongst the gear and supplies stashed in the wagon with its passengers, but really he just wants to give us some privacy.

Several seconds tick by as we just look at each other, then look away awkwardly, before looking back again. Gods, this is so uncomfortable, I fucking hate it. Gritting my teeth, I forge ahead, determined not to just ride away from my mother without a word. “Are you … I’m sorry. This is a mess. Are you all right?” I wince immediately at the question, it’s clear enough she’s not.

“No, no, it’s not. I’m sorry. I’m … I will be all right. I don’t want you to worry about me right now. You need to go, you made that very clear, and I respect that. You need this, Shay. You need time to think, you need time to breathe and be yourself, and most of all you need to see the world outside of … I don’t know. This. There’s so much more for you out there.” She takes a deep breath and it hitches as she lets it out again. “Your father was right.”

“About what?”

“Wanting more for you. I see it now. This’ll be good for you. Perhaps the best thing. There are so many great things for you to see and do out there, Shay. You’ll find your way out there, the right way for you. This is your path to something great.” She looks away for a moment, and I realise she’s watching Kesla, who’s feeding Trampler something from her pocket. It looks like sugar-cubes. Wow, he’s going to go mad for her, clearly.

“These are good people, Shay.” Min says after a moment, and there’s something fragile in her voice. It sounds like hope. “They’ll do right by you, I think. Or they better, at least.”

“Yeah,” I barely breathe it. “I think you’re right. I hope.”

Another awkward silence descends, and I feel that weight of sadness starting to grab hold again, unsure if I really want to fight it now. I finally summon up the words, start to speak, but Min just steps forward all at once and grabs me, folding me into the fiercest hug she’s ever given me, I’m helpless against it. She stops just short of crushing me, but it’s still an overpowering embrace, all I can do is give in to her. Thankfully the tears don’t come this time, perhaps she simply surprised me too much for that, but I melt all the same, pressing my face into her shoulder as I breathe her in. That wonderfully complex, dark, musky scent I’ve known all my life that just smells like home to me. Like love.

“Promise me you’ll be all right out there.” She breathes it so softly I barely catch it.

Gods … I just don’t know if I can really make a promise like that, and it hurts so much. She knows she’s asking for something impossible, but I know she needs that reassurance right now. This is killing her. I know it because it’s killing me. So I take as deep a breath as I can under this kind of pressure and nod. “I promise.”

“Good.” She doesn’t let go, she holds onto me for what seems like a very long time, and I let her. I’m drinking this in as much as I can because I know this is the last time I’ll see my mother for a very long time. Perhaps ever. I hold onto her as tight as she’s holding onto me, making sure she doesn’t let go until I’m ready for her to.

“I love you.” she finally breathes. It shakes my resolve some, I almost choke up after all hearing it, but I manage to fight it back down again. Finally I respond in kind.

We separate after that, and there are several more moments of awkward silence where we just look at each other. Then I sigh and nod and mutter: “Well, I guess I’ll see you around then.” Which has me inwardly cringing because of how thoroughly insufficient and dismissive it must sound.

She doesn’t answer, instead taking my hand at the last and stopping me again. She presses something into it before letting go again, and when I look down I nearly break again. The ring. It’s the ring my father gave her all those years ago, before I was born, when they first made their commitment to one another. It’s far too small for her thick fingers, so she’s always worn it round her neck on a leather thong. It was my great grandmother’s, the ring of a mighty elven mage old enough to recall the Sundering from personal experience. It seems like a simple band of gold, subtly patterned with scrolling filigree, but there’s a subtle thrum of something that feels almost alive in it. I’m speechless for several moments looking at it.

“I can’t … I can’t take this. It’s all you have left of him.”

“No, that’s not true.” She touches my face so gently I barely feel her fingers, featherlight on my cheek. “I have you.”

This time I can’t keep the tears at bay, and I don’t even try. Thankfully they’re gentle, but I feel two drops roll down my cheeks all the same, and I see my mother’s having the same problem. She smiles at me and it’s beautiful, touched by sadness as it is. Something of the bright, unusual, incredibly powerful young orc girl my father fell in love with, I think.

“Goodbye.” I manage to choke out as I slip the thong over my head.

“Never.” She laughs a little saying it, bitter as it might be. “Never goodbye.”

We watch each other for a few more moments, then I hear Kesla call out behind me: “Shay, we need to go!”

Gritting my teeth, I nod a little and give my mother one last glance, trying my best to give her a reassuring smile and knowing I’m failing. She returns the best she can, but hers seems as false as mine. I turn away quickly as I give my eyes a savage swipe with my sleeve and stride off to my own mount with as much confidence as I can counterfeit.

Elder, my own mount, is waiting with his usual mercurial shortness of patience. He’s unusually warm-blooded for a draught-horse, much like Trampler, but also younger, more impetuous too, a temperament that’s always endeared me to him, really. I guess he reminds me of Tarrow in that. Particularly sleek in mane, with a beautiful speckled grey coat I can’t stop stroking. He’s barely tolerant of Terue holding his reins to steady him, only behaving because he knows I trust the half-elf, and he gives a defiant but appreciative shake of his head that troubles my friend for a moment as he sees me coming. I give his shoulder a friendly pat as I reach them and he gives another shake while he snorts.

Terue waits for a few more moments until he’s relatively sure Elder won’t do anything unexpected, then finally lets go of the reins so he can pull me into a hug, and I let him. I give him one last good squeeze before I let go, but he grabs my arms at the last, holds me there briefly before finally letting go, almost regretful, and he’s looking at me, thoughtful, like he wants to do something. I know what’s coming, and I let it happen.

He kisses me, hesitant at first, but then I reach up and take his face in my hands to keep it there, and I kiss him back, deeper. When we part I let my forehead rest against his and breathe him in like I did with my mother. There’s some of the same scents, old sweat and leather, but other things too. Cool and sharp, something new I don’t think I ever noticed before, sharp and a little tangy. He smells like home too, but in a very different way.

“I guess we’ll talk about that when we see each other again, then.” he mutters finally before taking a step back.

“Yeah, I guess we will.” I look him over for a moment, realising a lot of new things about him that I never took into account before. It’s a strange feeling, and not unwelcome at all. “Just keep yourself alive in the meantime so we can actually have that conversation, okay?”

After a moment he cocks a brow, giving me a little half-smile. “I’ll try. Make sure you do the same, Shay.”

Nodding, I take hold of Elder’s reins and jump up into the saddle. Thankfully my legs seem to be strong enough I don’t make a complete fool of myself in the process, and I give my mount a pat on the neck that prompts another head-shake. He paws at the ground for a few moments and I think he might be giving Terue a little stink-eye, which makes me chuckle.

“Okay, then.” I give Kesla a nod as she wheels Trampler round, and she looks to Min, who sticks two fingers in her mouth. Her whistle is a powerful thing, and after a moment there’s a great grinding of locks turning inside the great huge doors in front of us before they start to swing inwards on their own. A few beats later there’s similar clunking from the bottom of the dark, sloping tunnel beyond and light starts to trickle through as the outer gates open outwards on their own too.

Yeslee doesn’t even wait for Kesla’s invitation, she spurs her horse immediately and he trots into the darkness amiably, like he’s already scrambling to please her. Krakka takes up the reins from the wagon’s bench as he settles himself and gives me a moment’s look, then a nod, before snapping the four fresh draughthorses in the team into motion. They follow Yeslee out, Gael’s mount following from where she’s tethered at the back of the wagon.

Driver 8 starts moving then, and those few close to him who might’ve started to forget he was there all immediately jump back from him, clearly remembering what he managed to unleash upon them two nights back. He pauses for a moment to look to Kesla, who nods, then turns to look at me for a much longer time. If Yeslee was unreadable, this thing is an unfathomable mystery. Unsure how to respond, I simply nod too, and after another moment he turns and starts to lumber into the tunnel.

Art looks to Kesla now himself, and when she nods he spurs his own horse on, giving me a moment’s glance which seems much warmer than I expected. Or maybe not. He’s been starting to come round too since the battle ended, and I think my admittedly pragmatic gift might have been the final crack in any remaining reticence.

Finally it’s just me and Kesla, and she’s already getting a feel for her new mount as she lets Trampler trot around the yard for a moment. She looks down at those around us, saying nothing but taking in all their faces, and some of them seem to return her newfound respect. Finally she reins him up and faces my mother, who watches her for a moment before nodding with a subtle smile which is returned in kind. She wheels around once more, gives me a look, then starts for the tunnel herself.

I find it so hard to follow. I look at the others, all focused on me now, and there’s no reproach in any of these faces, no resentment, not even reticence. There’s just love, and sadness that we’re parting. Except for Terue. He’s watching me with a very complex expression, there’s fondness and a little cockiness in there too, but more, there’s an expectation. Like he knows this won’t be the last time we see each other. I wish I could be so certain.

Min holds my attention longest, and her eyes break my heart as they root me to the spot. It’s not until I hear Kesla call my name one more time from the bottom of the tunnel that I’m able to break that hold, waving to everyone before I turn Elder round and ride into the gloom without another backward glance. We’ve gone a whole mile before I finally look back again, and of course by then it’s definitely too late to change my mind …

THE END OF BOOK ONE

THE STORY CONTINUES IN BOOK TWO: ONE COLD TRAIL