Stellan considered Gretchen’s words as an ache bloomed in his chest. Despite the horror of seeing Patrulha rise from the dead, she’d given the two of them her blessing. Gretchen was right. Patrulha was a warrior to the end–and beyond. She had shared as much during their mind link. Could he deny her the defining battle of her life?
“Patrulha, I...” Stellan clenched his teeth. No words could express the mixture of grief and gratitude surging through him like wildfire. “Thank you for this, sister. I’ll never, ever forget you.”
In response, Patrulha raised her enchanted sword with both hands, raised high to shoulder height. Then she began to run.
Ploddingly at first, for as a corpse her limbs still creaked with stiffness. Exhausted though he was, Stellan redoubled his concentration. He drew magickal power from every fiber of his body. As a result, Patrulha’s speed increased as she headed straight for Sada.
Faster and faster she ran. Her feet became a blur as she practically glided across the snow. Shimmering with an iridescent glow, her spirit transcended her earthly form, expanding to over five times her normal size. Anything or anyone in her path was knocked to the side.
Almost there, thought Stellan. Sweat poured from his shaking limbs. I’ve got to keep it going!
Patrulha reached Sada’s position. The dead warrior lifted her sword for a final attack.
Sada’s last remaining knights rallied to protect her. Her stance indicated she was already initiating a counterspell. She raised a hand, one sparkling with blue fire.
Patrulha struck her with the force of a hurricane. Her sword arm arced in a swift, deadly maneuver, leaving a colorful rainbow in its wake. Electricity crackled and rent the air with a deafening tearing sound. Smoke exploded from the spot, obscuring the actual contact. Stellan dared not break his concentration yet, but looked with narrowed eyes to discern if Sada had been hit.
Nothing could be seen, save smoke and fire.
A bright flash mushroomed into the air. After several moments, the smoke began to dissipate.
All around Stellan, the corpses besieged what remained of the Pestilence army. Upon defeating the last mutant, they sank back into the earth.
Stellan collapsed, the white world before him growing black. The cold, hard embrace of Death rushed toward him.
Then there was only silence.
Chapter 41
As the fourth hour past midnight approached, Clarysa lugged her tenth bucket of water to the throne room. Sleep had eluded her the past two days, so while Stellan and Lionel lay unconscious in their respective rooms, she had dedicated herself to cleaning. Given the sacrifices so many others had made, it was the least she could do.
At the arched entrance, her arms trembled with the effort of holding the bucket. She set it down and paused to rest. The great hall contained four long rows of gravely injured soldiers. They lay on thin pallets and mounds of sheet-covered hay. Scores of candles lit the area and fires burned in all the grates. The air felt warm but stuffy. Pungent scents of medicinal ointments mixed with the odors of blood and unwashed bodies.
After the battle, Edward had sent for the top Aldebaran healers. While the women in red robes attended to the patients, Clarysa, Gretchen and a handful of uninjured soldiers cleaned the floors, clothes and bedding.
Clarysa had been shocked at the amount of blood and bits of human flesh she’d encountered, but braced herself nonetheless. It wouldn’t do for Stellan to awake and discover his castle in shambles. So she had set to work.
She picked up her bucket and resumed her trek across the chamber. One last corner remained. Some of the patients were awake, talking quietly. Clarysa nodded and smiled to those she passed, trying not to flinch upon witnessing truncated limbs, swollen faces, and bruised skin.
She placed the bucket down and retrieved a worn brush from a cavernous skirt pocket. Gretchen had somehow found the time to adjust one of her skirts for Clarysa to wear during the cleaning phase. The baggy shirt she wore belonged to Ghyslain. But Stellan’s family shared freely, no matter how little they possessed. It was simply their way.
Clarysa poured a splash of water onto the floor and began to scrub away dirt and stains of blood. Her sisters would probably faint at the sight of her laboring like a servant, but Clarysa welcomed the distraction. Keeping busy had helped her cope with the aftermath of the battle. And she wanted Stellan to know she considered no task beneath her. She would help him rebuild Vandeborg Castle until her hands fell off, if necessary. Tears rolled down her cheeks. He’d been unconscious for so long. Would she ever have a chance to tell him?
Clarysa scrubbed harder–and then harder still. As soon as she finished, she would check on Lionel and Stellan.
The hall was quiet save for her scrubbing. A half hour later, Hunter Red appeared, arms full of clean rags. No doubt Gretchen was responsible for his timely intervention. He helped Clarysa mop up the remaining grime.
Cleaning the rags in boiling water and hanging them up to dry in the kitchen stole away another hour. Needing respite, Clarysa quenched her thirst with a mug of icy water. Gretchen insisted she eat a thick slice of hot, buttered toast slathered with apricot jam. Clarysa knew better than to refuse her.
As soon as she swallowed the last bite, she rose. I’d best check on Lionel now. Her cousin’s room was closer, so it made sense to go there first. Clarysa wrapped a shawl around her shoulders and left the kitchen. The trek through the corridor was as cold as ever. She shivered and quickened her step. At least Lionel’s room would be warm.
Several yards ahead, soft amber light spilled through the partially open door. Clarysa eyed it with appreciation and hurried forward.
She slipped through the opening and closed it behind her. “Good morning, Lionel,” she said softly, though she didn’t expect a reply. Then she froze.
Lionel was not in
