all the fallen. What made it worse was remembering a time in the very recent past when these same men had lived and laughed and smiled. To know them now as nothing but shadows of unending torment and despair was a burden he couldn’t bear much longer.
Death, he knew, would be no release. For him, insanity offered the only way forward.
“And how are you doing this less-than-ideal evening?”
Alwyn turned, surprised to see Rallie standing behind him. He saw the column of soldiers a few yards behind her, waiting.
“More of them have died,” Alwyn said, turning away again.
“You mean of us, don’t you?” Rallie asked, walking to stand beside him. Despite the wind, her cloak barely rippled. “You are still among the living, yes?”
“Am I?”
For an answer, Rallie reached out with her quill and jabbed the point into the flesh of his hand. He yelped, snatching his hand away and shaking it. A warm, soothing sensation enveloped his hand before frost fire sparked and burned the feeling away leaving him cold and shivering.
“Either you have excellent reflexes for a dead man, or you’re still very much alive,” she said.
Alwyn studied her through his gray eyes, seeking out her energy. An ancient power radiated from-“Oww!” he said, feeling the sting of her quill jab him again, this time in the earlobe. As before, a feeling of warmth began to spread throughout his body before the oath magic overwhelmed it. Alwyn shook himself as anger surged inside him.
“The wind took it,” she said, staring him directly in the eyes as if daring him to contradict her. Power coursed through Alwyn. He was the destroyer of Kaman Rhal’s dragon of bones. It was he who blasted the Shadow Monarch’s emissary to pieces. Who was Rallie to-“Oww!”
“It’s like it has a mind of its own,” Rallie said, removing the sharpened end of her quill from his shoulder. It had pierced the cloth of his uniform and his cotton undershirt underneath. This time instead of warmth there was heat as the point entered his skin dead center in the middle of his acorn tattoo. He felt frost fire tracing the outline of the tattoo and its motto “
Rallie held the quill loosely between her fingers, twirling it slowly. Alwyn raised his hands in surrender.
“Who are you?” he asked.
She didn’t answer right away, but started walking. Alwyn watched her for a few steps then followed after her. He caught up with her and fell into step. His tattoo continued to burn, but now it was a tolerable heat. In a very strange way he found it comforting, as if one small part of him was still him.
“The major will be waiting for us, so I think it best we keep moving,” she said.
“You’re not going back to your wagon?”
“One of the lads used to drive a beer wagon. I’m not sure camels are quite the same as dray horses, but I think he’ll get the gist of it quick enough. Besides, with one damaged wagon wheel it’s not a very smooth ride. So I decided I’d take the chance to stretch my legs. And I’d like the company.”
Alwyn tried and failed to read Rallie. He looked for fear, or mockery, but all he sensed was genuine interest on her part.
“Sometimes what you see is what you get,” she said.
He walked in silence, only partially listening as Rallie somehow got onto the subject of distilleries. The regiment trailed them at a distance. A new feeling enveloped him. He was never alone, not anymore, but right now he felt a degree of peace and solitude as he walked beside Rallie. There was something soothing about her voice.
“Are you casting a spell on me?” he asked, suspicion rushing his words and making his tone sharp.
“I have been called mesmerizing in my day,” she said, “positively captivating even. But no, no spell beyond the simple act of keeping a friend company. There’s a power in that greater than anything I’ve ever encountered.”
Alwyn turned his head to see if she was laughing.
“Well, in a deeply emotional way,” she explained, resting a hand over her heart.
Before Alwyn could stop himself the words rushed out. “Everything is pain. I’m losing my friends, Rallie. I’m losing my grasp on this world. Soon there won’t be anything left to keep me here.”
“Nonsense. You’re just feeling sorry for yourself.”
Alwyn had expected sympathy, perhaps shock on her part at his plight, but not this. “That’s what you think this is? I’m becoming the living dead, cursed for eternity with tormented shades as my companions, and you think I’m feeling sorry for myself?”
Rallie pulled the cigar out of her mouth and jabbed it at him. He recoiled.
“As I keep having to explain to you, you’re not dead, not by a long shot.” She put the cigar back in her mouth and clamped down on it as a gust of wind raced across the desert kicking up sand and snow. “Your survival instinct still works. It’s your brain that’s giving you problems. You’re overthinking things. Wallowing, as it were, in a sea of woe. I can’t help the dead, but the confused and despondent I can still help. . if they’re prepared to help themselves. I was telling the major something similar. Start with hope and build.”
Alwyn thought about that.
“I don’t know if I know how to do that, Rallie. What hope is there for them? For me? We’re all bound by Her magic.”
“Magic done can be undone. That’s why we’re going to meet Her on Her mountain. Which is why we’re currently trekking across this desert. You’re getting yourself twisted in knots about grand, horrible things when what you need to be doing is putting your attention on the here and now.”
“But the shades-”
“Will remain that way unless you and the rest of the living do something about it,” she said, cutting him off. Her voice softened as she continued. “I know they’re suffering, as are you. For now, it can’t be helped. You’re their emissary now, and they look to you for answers, so give them something to do.”
“What do you mean?”
Rallie swung a hand around taking in the emptiness. “Put the buggers to work. They’re dead, but that’s no excuse for lying around moaning and lamenting that state of affairs. They need focus, and you can give it to them. You know what’s at stake. You know what has to be done to free the regiment from Her oath. So buck up, chin up, and get moving.”
“It’s not that simple, Rallie,” Alwyn said.
“That’s the human mind for you, always trying to show how complicated things can be. Don’t think about it, just feel it. Better to do something and fail, than nothing and wonder.”
For the first time in a long time, it was as if a dark, smothering veil had been lifted from his face. Thinking about his situation only made it worse. So maybe Rallie had a point. Stop thinking and start acting. Alwyn drew in a breath and planted his legs firmly in the snow. Rallie stopped and turned to look at him, a smile apparent behind the glowing end of her cigar.
His heart filled with emotion, not all of it sad. There was a way forward. How it would all work out he didn’t know, but right now that didn’t matter. Right now he was alive, and that was enough.
“I miss Yimt,” he said at last, unsure what else to say.
“I miss the rascal, too,” she said, “but I hate to think what he’d be saying to you if he were here instead of me right now. I’m not sure ears as tender as yours could survive being exposed to that kind of verbal abuse.”
Alwyn actually smiled.
She started walking again. He matched her step for step, marveling at how his view of the world could change so fast.
“You never answered my question,” he said. “You know, who
“I didn’t answer only because I don’t mean to,” she said, cheerily puffing away on her cigar. “A woman is entitled to her secrets, especially if she can’t remember some of them.”
Alwyn didn’t believe that.
“Eventually you have to tell us,” he paused before continuing. “Don’t you?”
“Do you know what kills cats?” Rallie asked.
“Curiosity?” Alwyn answered.
