Rise (War Witch Book 1) (72 page)

Ramora had known each of the Blessed by reputation the day she had met them, and knew the Ascended by name, for she'd lived among them. Seeing them wrapped in their pain made her forget her own for a time as she stood to reach out to them, hugging each in turn as they made ready for the long march to Casterperi Hill, a place for the honored dead, where the Blessed and soldiers would find their final rest.

Caleri, with her blackish green hair and reptile eyes, had stood beside Rick for many years under the auspices of Terakus. Yorndo, the powerfully built, bald Ascended of Verea, with his skin showing the faintest lines of scales, had walked with Sabra by the Snake Goddess's desire. Qaru, with her long, thick horse tail, had guided Bit at the order of Amaron. Larak, bat wings folded tight to his back, grieved the stoic Tanna, not just for himself, but Neglis. Gera, wide raven wings drooping, trailed fingers over Flick's coffin, saying goodbye for Rialda, and herself.

Chara stood back, watching as Ramora, Izra, and Untar took a moment to offer the demigods their condolences. She wanted to join them, to stand by Shana, express her sorrow, but felt she had no right. They, like the warrior she cared for more than she could say, were beyond her now. She had no place at their side.

Rakiss remained by her, invisible, but knowing the other Ascended could see him. He didn't approach, no more than they acknowledged him. He wanted to be among them, for he knew their pain all too well. He thought of Emiline, and with a brief look to Chara, decided to leave them and the mortals to their grief.

He would not sully this day with his works, even if it cost him everything.

The Ascended stood with the three remaining Blessed, and Rills’ squad, loading the caskets of the fallen agents of Heaven and soldiers alike onto the carts that would carry them to the cemetery. By the time they'd finished, the rain had begun, a steady drizzle that none balked from as they made their way out of the courtyard, led by Untar.

The King walked, a man now and not a ruler, with the Ascended at his back. Ramora and Izra followed, Rills and his soldiers at their heels, Chara, Esteban and Leena the final members of the procession as the small wagons with their woeful loads came after, making the journey in a single line.

Chara paid no heed to the rain, her mind grasping to understand why the world was this way. The stories of how Ker Zet had fallen and brought such great evil to the world did little to ease her grief. Good men and women, friends, people she'd come to know, respect, and care for were gone, and she didn't understand why.

Why was the world so cruel? So cold? The questions plagued her as she followed in the footsteps of heroes, with martyrs at her back.

She could find no answers, only a last question she pondered for much of the long walk. Was she strong enough to stand by them, and die like them?

The procession wound through Lansing, a route known to all as the Last Road, a wide spiral that allowed the honored dead to pass through much of the city, in turn allowing the city to pay their respects. The way was lined from start to end with citizens of mighty Lansing, their heads bowed as they thanked the fallen for their sacrifice, swearing in their hearts it would not be in vain.

Halfway along the Last Road, a boy, no more than five, watched as the procession passed, staring at the coffins for a while before asking his mother, "Why did they die?"

"So we might live," she answered, pulling him close to her.

"The Gods will send more Blessed to protect us, won't they?" he pressed.

"We can only hope," she told him.

He nodded, his young face set and resolute as he said, "Then one day, I'll become a Blessed, so I can take their place, and protect everyone."

His mother, saddened and proud at the same time, knelt and gathered him close. "I know you will, Gannon. I know you will."

Many are those who choose the path of hero, as many as have it fall to them. For each, in the deeds of their lives, and even in the manner of their death, they can serve as an inspiration. Young eyes that look upon them, their legacy, and become driven to aspire to be as selfless. The gentle ripple of a noble action, a sacrifice made for others, spreads in ways that cannot be predicted, often changing the course of a single life, that may go on to save many. A line, unseen, unspoken, that makes a better world, by the subtlest of degrees.

Rain continued to fall as the procession finally arrived at Casterperi Hill, on the eastern edge of the city. A rolling stretch of lush green, it was dotted with ancient oak trees and monuments carved to reflect the good men and women who'd found their final rest there. As the thunder rolled slowly over the gathered, they returned to the earth their friends, their family, and their loved ones.

They said goodbye, until they could meet once more, in Paradise.

THE RAIN STILL FELL
when Chara woke the next morning, as it had the day before, and through the night. She lay in bed, watching water streak the window, listening to the occasional roll of thunder, and wondered if Rajan himself mourned so many Blessed being taken from the world at once. What tales she knew of the Storm Dragon didn't make her think him the sentimental type, but he was still a God, so it seemed reasonable.

Am I strong enough
, she wondered,
to die for others?

The question plagued her. For the first time, she felt she truly understood what it was the Blessed stood against, what Ramora stood against. For the first time, she wondered if she had what it took to walk that road by her side.

It wasn't like she thought it would be, fighting the Demon Seed. Growing up in Rheumer, the war seemed so far away, a thing that happened elsewhere, and had no real consequence on her life. Even after facing the Orcs that morning in her home town, and Deacon later, she hadn't really grasped it.

Now, she felt she couldn't escape it. The reality of it. The horror of it. The soul-crushing despair it brought. This wasn't gallant battles, or noble heroics. This was war. It was ugly, cruel, vicious, and it hurt. Good people died. All for no reason.

It made her want to weep at the savage nonsense of it all. The senseless malice behind it robbed her of her ability to think clearly, her mind whirling as she tried and failed to make the world feel right again. She wondered if she'd made a mistake, leaving home.

Pushing herself up, she sat on the edge of the bed, watching the rain with a somber expression. She couldn't make the world feel right again, she realized, because the world had never been right to begin with. This was the real world, where good people died, lives were torn apart, grief walked hand in hand with impotent anger, and simple girls from nowhere towns saw how pointless their lives really were.

She felt empty. It was the only word that fit. She felt empty. She wanted more than anything to go back to her daydream life, when she'd believed that the heroes always won out, that good people prospered, and the world was a loving place. She had been a pampered, spoiled child, thinking herself put upon. She'd wanted to believe her life was hard, because it allowed her to excuse her own actions. She had been stupid, selfish, and naive.

She saw the world for what it was now, and herself as well. Sitting there, as the Werejaguar she was in love with for no reason she could name stirred, she felt hollowed out to her very core, and asked herself again if she was strong enough to die for others. She couldn't answer that, and that frightened her even more. Yes, or even no, would've been fine, but to not know terrified her.

It made her wonder just who she really was, deep down.

"Beloved?" Esteban asked as he woke, rolling over to see her sitting, fists tightened, bunching the sheets.

Chara said nothing, staring at the window, unable even to cry anymore. She hurt, her soul screaming out against a world so wrong, but no more tears would come. Sorrow warred with rage, neither winning as she tried to understand not just the cruelty of life, but her place in it. Still, she found, she just ended up feeling numb.

"Chara, are you alright?" Esteban asked, sitting up to reach out for her.

"Yeah," she finally replied, standing and moving away from him. "I'm just... I don't know."

He frowned softly, moving to sit, staring at the floor. He felt he knew what she was going through, for he'd struggled with it as well. It had been in his thoughts for days now. Uncertain how to bring it up, or even if he should, he had left it alone, where it'd festered, like a boil on his thoughts.

"We should stay here when she goes," he said at last.

Chara jerked around to him, disbelief filling her face. "What?"

Esteban didn't move, his back to her as he realized he'd finally said it aloud. "We should stay here when she goes."

Anger flared bright and hot in her as she shook her head. "I can't believe you would even say something like that."

"I'm just trying to be realistic," he replied.

Giving a sharp snort at that, she stalked to the dresser and jerked out a cotton shirt and a pair of leather slacks. "Realistic. Whatever. To even suggest that, I don't even know what to say."

With a heavy sigh, he reached for his pants and began tugging them on. "We need to face it, beloved."

"I don't know what you mean," she barked, yanking her pants on in outrage.

Esteban watched her for a moment as she fumbled with the fasteners, her hands shaking. "What we faced the other day, it's likely just the beginning. If we stay with her, we'll see worse."

"Oh, so that makes it okay to just bail on her?" Chara yelled. "Leave her to face it on her own?"

"She won't be on her own," he said, trying to keep his own voice calm. "Izra is likely to go with her."

"No," she told him hotly.

Nodding to himself, he admitted he'd known she would react like this. "We're not soldiers, Chara. Nor are we warriors, or Blessed. We have no training for this. To continue on with her after this is foolish."

"Stop talking," she ordered, pulling her shirt on, finger stumbling over the buttons.

"I won't," he snapped back. "You have a blind devotion to her that clouds your judgment, and I have an obligation to you to at least try and make you see reason."

The look she gave him was pure fury. "We both swore, Esteban. That day, in the library, when we saw how many Blessed Draco had killed, we swore to stand by her, no matter what, to the bitter end. We made a promise, dammit!"

"We didn't know what we were doing then," he bellowed. "How could we have? Now, however, now we really have had a taste of what we were vowing to stand by her through, and we need to rethink our choices."

Growing ever more irate, Chara finally managed to get at least two buttons on her shirt fixed, and left off the rest, storming towards him. "She's our friend!"

"Yes, she is, but how are we supposed to do anything but get in her way as we are now?" he shouted. "We're lucky to be alive. Don't you see that? We barely got through that in one piece! Next time, we most likely won’t be lucky, much less have an assassin, a Blessed,
and
an Ascended there to keep us from getting killed!"

"I will not listen to this," she hissed. "I will not turn my back on her, after everything she's done for us, just because it’s suddenly gotten hard!"

"We have done enough!” he retorted, his temper getting the better of him.

"Enough?" Chara gasped. "How have we done enough? I'd be dead if it wasn't for her, and you would be the slave of a Demon sorcerer! At best!"

"So that makes it acceptable to lay down our lives on her quest for revenge?" he retaliated.

"Yes!" she screamed back at him. "It makes it right! It makes it fair! It makes it our obligation to do!"

Esteban seized her by the shoulders. "I will not lay down your life, or mine, for her, or anyone else!"

"Then you really aren't who I thought you were," she told him, shoving him away.

Desperately trying to regain control of his temper, he balled his fists, grating out, "This isn't our fight, Chara."

She paced away from him, hand to her face. "It's everyone’s fight. This whole thing is everyone’s fight. We can't just walk away, not now, not after seeing what she's up against."

"What about
our
lives?" he demanded. "When do we get to start living our lives? Have you even considered that?"

"No," she snapped. "I haven't. Not even once. Not until that son of a bitch is dead."

Grabbing his vest, Esteban shook his head. "Then you aren't who I thought you were, either."

"No, I really am not," she snapped. "I'll be leaving with her when she goes."

"Good luck to you both, then," he grunted, slamming open the door and storming from the room in a rage.

Chara stood for some time, staring out the window, trying to understand what had happened to her life. How it had gone so far away from everything she knew. When Esteban didn't return after a few minutes, she buried her face in her hands, finding she still had tears after all.

They didn't last long, just enough to remind her she could feel something besides numb. Pulling herself together, she pulled on a pair of boots, laced them quickly, grabbed her gun belt from the chair in the corner, buckled it, and headed across the hall to speak with Ramora.

The warrior opened the door after Chara pounded on it twice. She looked as if she hadn't slept in days. Too worked up to notice, her young friend pushed past her, missing the welcoming wave to come in the Blessed gave a moment after.

"You won't believe what Esteban just said to me," she told her, pacing the room.

Ramora figured it couldn't have been good as she went to sit back down on the bed, trying to sign to the other woman. She gave up after a moment when she saw it was pointless. Realizing she'd never seen her in such a state, the warrior settled back, letting her get it out.

"He said we should stay here when you leave," Chara bit out, the disgust thick in her voice. "I mean, actually stay here, as in, not go with you. Can you believe that?"

When Ramora didn't respond, Chara ranted on. "How could he even suggest such a thing? I mean, seriously! And he meant it, too! That's the part that really gets me. He actually, seriously, meant it! Like it was a good idea! Can you believe that?"