A few seconds later, a dishevelled Gideon Thorn skidded out of the alley with a handful of Namdhorian soldiers behind him. The old master visibly relaxed when he spotted Avandriell in Asher’s arms. “She’s fast,” he panted.
Asher looked down at her. “You’d find me anywhere it seems.” A low clicking sound resonated from Avandriell’s throat and she nestled her head into his chest. The ranger was unfamiliar with dragon behaviour and sounds, but he could sense the hatchling’s joy and comfort at being reunited with him.
“Since you’re alive,” Gideon remarked, “I’m assuming he isn’t.”
Asher simply nodded at the splintered doorway, where the soldiers were now entering to calm the family and see to the body.
“Arakesh,” Inara informed gravely.
Gideon’s mouth twisted in contemplation. “It seems your business with them is yet to conclude.”
“It will,” the ranger said gruffly.
“You have a plan?” Inara’s raised eyebrow spoke of her doubt.
“I do,” Asher replied, making for the alley that would take him back to the main road.
“And what would that be?” Inara asked with exasperation.
The ranger paused and looked back at them. “I’m going to help The Rebellion stop Alijah. Nothing else matters. When they come for me, I’ll…”
“Kill them all?” Inara assumed critically. “That isn’t a plan. We don’t know how many are left.”
“Don’t worry,” Asher smiled. “My plan was to stand behind you.”
Inara sighed and looked to be on the verge of a verbal assault when Asher caught a glimpse of a figure behind her. They were further down the street, barely visible on the corner of an alleyway. Hooded and robed, there was something wrong about them, just as there had been with the young assassin on the ramparts.
The ranger strode forward, parting Gideon and Inara to get a better look. Between their movement and the onlookers who had steadily filled the street, Asher lost sight of the observing figure.
“What is it?” Gideon asked, following his gaze.
Asher didn’t answer right away. Instead, he continued to investigate the crowd, assessing each of them for any sign that they were more than they appeared. Back in his day, it would have been impossible to distinguish an Arakesh in a crowd such as this. But this younger generation, trained outside of Nightfall’s terrifying halls, were inexperienced and headstrong.
“Asher?” Inara probed.
“It won’t be long,” the ranger said ominously.
“And then what?” Gideon enquired.
Asher took a breath. “It’ll either be them or me. It was never going to end any other way.”
15
Farewells
Per winter’s demand, the sun remained close to the horizon as it passed over the world. Kassian tilted his head as he scrutinised its position in the sky. They should have left for the south by now. They had, at best, somewhere between four and five hours before nightfall; then the darkness and drop in temperature would force them to camp.
Perched on a ledge, beside one of the catapults, Kassian looked down the main road of Namdhor, where he could see that they were almost ready to depart the north. A good number had amassed to take the fight to the enemy and an even larger number was gathering to say farewell to their heroes.
He didn’t like to think how many of them would never see home again.
Then again, given the scant supplies they had scavenged from every nook and cranny, there was a good chance they wouldn’t reach The Moonlit Plains before they ate each other. With that in mind, he made sure to enjoy every bite of his small pie.
In quiet moments such as this, he liked to imagine Clara sitting next to him. She would playfully accuse him of eating his pie with all the manners of a pig and praise the incredible view before them. She would also ask him what he planned on doing when they reached The Moonlit Plains.
The answer was clear to the widower, but he couldn’t bring himself to say it, even to a person who wasn’t really there. Kassian was immediately frustrated by that fact. Since that night, the night his world had been shattered, he had thought of nothing but killing Alijah Galfrey. Now, after so many days and nights of hate-fuelled violence, he wasn’t sure he wanted to spill the blood.
Now he was thinking of legacy.
He had nothing left but to do something he knew Clara would have been proud of. Something real. Something important. For her.
As always, he battled the images of her final moments. Malliath engulfed her in flames without a care and Alijah showed no remorse for any he slaughtered in Valatos. If he saw his face or that of the dragon, Kassian couldn’t rightly say how he would react. He only knew what Clara would want him to do.
His reverie was disturbed by Aphira, whom he saw approaching up the steps. In part, he was thankful for the disruption of his inner monologue, though, for the most part, he was just happy to see Aphira. He found her accent oddly soothing and he certainly appreciated her input. During their time as Keepers in Valatos, she had only been one level below him within their ranks and he had heard often of her great potential. Since then, of course, she had saved his life a handful of times.
“You’ve either come to tell me there’s more pie or we’re finally leaving,” he called out. “Anything else will sour my cheerful mood.”
“The dragons are flying south,” she reported. “And there’s definitely no more pie.”
Kassian let his head hang as he sighed into his chest. “If they’re leaving we must be soon to follow surely. Have they dealt with the assassin problem?” he queried, having seen Asher and Inara returning to the keep with the body.
“Well he’s still dead if that’s what you mean.”
Kassian silently laughed to himself. “I suppose I
