Raidan’s body turned to ice. “Where does my son lie?” he shouted.
“They’ve taken him to the base of the eastern tower, my lord.”
Raidan didn’t wait for the soldier to lead the way. Raked by his master’s spurs, the stallion sprang forward into a gallop. The prince bent low over the horse’s neck, his mind consumed with only one thought.
He found Raidu lying in the deep shade cast by the high castle wall, surrounded by a group of Meiji troopers. Someone had folded a cloak and had placed it beneath the younger prince’s head. Even before Raidan had dismounted, the soldiers had melted back and bowed their heads in deference.
“My lord Prince.” A woman stepped forward-a grizzled veteran and a sergeant by her insignia.
The prince recognized her. “How is my son, Sergeant Mata?” Raidan forced the words out through lips that had lost all feeling.
“We did everything we could, my lord, but none of us here are healers. I’m sorry, my lord.” The woman lowered her eyes.
Raidan removed his helmet and tossed it aside, then knelt beside his son’s body. For a time, he just looked.
Raidan made himself examine the wound that had taken his son’s life. Great skill, or incredible luck, had guided the point of a sword in below Raidu’s jaw, just above where the plates protecting his throat ended, lacerating the main vessel. His death had been swift.
“Bring my son to the castle yard,” Raidan ordered.
Four of the troopers sprang to obey. They gently gathered up the slack-limbed body in a makeshift sling and hoisted it between them. Raidan walked alongside, holding Raidu’s cool hand in his. Word of the younger prince’s death had already spread like wildfire, and by the time they reached the gates, a crowd had formed. Raidan indicated the troopers should lay Raidu’s body on the gravel.
“Let me through. I want to see my brother!”
The crowd parted to let Kaisik, who had stayed behind with the castle guard, through to his brother’s side. When the boy saw his brother lying on the ground, he broke down. Kneeling beside Raidu’s body, he covered his face and wept.
“Kaisik, my son,” Raidan murmured gently, laying his hand on the boy’s heaving shoulder. “Your brother gave his life to protect the elven people. He would not want his death to be your undoing.”
Kaisik looked up at his father with anguished, streaming eyes. “Yes, Father, I know,” the boy whispered. “I loved him. He always looked after me…I’ll miss him.”
Raidan wanted to fall to his knees, gather both his sons in his arms and give vent to his own grief, but he couldn’t.
“Your Highness.” Sen appeared at Raidan’s elbow, then said in a low voice, “I’m so very sorry, Raidan. You know I understand.”
“Yes, my friend, you do.”
“Let us take Raidu to the chapel,” Sen urged. “Odata’s priest can see to his body.”
Raidan felt numb. He heard and saw everything around him, but it seemed as if he no longer inhabited his own skin; instead, he watched from a distance as his body moved and spoke. “Yes, yes. That would…yes,” he murmured, then without thinking, he added, “Sen, your own son…”
“Is safe, my lord. He took our Kerala contingent out to guard the pass.”
Raidan shook his head, realizing Sen had misunderstood, but before he could say anything further, a commotion at the gates drew his attention.
A scout had just arrived. She pushed through the crowd to reach him and bowed.
“Your Highness, the enemy has reached the pass and they show no signs of slowing down. The humans have fled the valley!”
A great cheer rose up, but died quickly as those assembled remembered the terrible tragedy that had befallen their prince.
“We’ve survived, against all odds.” Raidan raised his voice so all in the yard could hear. “Do not restrain your joy because of my loss. The Empire is beaten!”
The Final Confrontation
He tried to take a breath, but could draw no air into his lungs.
Surrounded, imprisoned, crushed by a great weight…
His eyes, nostrils, mouth, filled with…
Struggling against the earth that held him captive, Ashinji clawed his way through soil and gravel, up toward where instinct told him he would find air, light, and life. When his scrabbling hands broke the surface, he heaved himself free, staggered to his feet, then clutched his belly and doubled over.
He spent an eternity choking up gobbets of dirty spit, and when at last he could breathe without coughing, he stood upright and looked around, eyes and nose streaming.
He had emerged from beneath the roots of a lightning-blasted tree that stood like a lonely sentinel atop a small hill. The moon sailed high overhead, a silver crescent amid a field of stars.
His head felt thick and fuzzy.
Off to his right, he saw a constellation of rosy, earthbound stars arrayed before a wall of deeper darkness.
Crickets sang among the shrubs bearding the hill. A nightjar swooped by overhead. Ashinji brushed dirt clods from his hair and dug a small pebble from his right ear. In his slightly befuddled state, he couldn’t decide what to do. He sank to the ground and rested his head on his knees.
He had no explanation for how he had come to be entombed beneath a dead tree far from the walls of Tono
