Book 4, Chapter 51: Alone
After a while, I slowed to a walk. The animal trail I followed was circling a hill, going up a bit and down a bit, the easiest path, probably, and I hoped it would link up with something more directly north, but who knows. Maybe I should have been selfish, brought a guide. I should have brought a horse, but there weren’t any living ones around when I took my leave. But, no, I hoped the boy didn’t follow me. No one was safe around me, neither horses nor people. Who knows how many people, other than my targets, I killed today.
It was a terrible and terrifying thought. Sure, they were enemy combatants, and animals pressed into service, but just an afterthought to the battles between us, those mages, me and Etienne. How he died was incomprehensible to me. A terrible spell, he said. Turning life into magic. Or death into magic, depending on how you looked at it.
I wondered. If I hadn’t been there, would the circle have expanded further? Until his death? And the cost seemed his death and more, when he begged me to take him, whatever he meant by that.
Trying to ignore these thoughts, images of the dead and dying, the horrific powers unleased, I tried and tried to focus on the path, the dirt beneath my feet, the branches I had to dodge, startled birds and squirrels, but failed.
Morry.
I stumbled then. And just couldn’t find my footing. And the ground was blurry. No idea where to step. And tired, muscles, joints, exhausted. Stumbled again and gave up and sat on the animal trail. In the compact dirt.
Morry.
Stripped off my gauntlets, greaves and helmet. Left ring, dropping it, right ring, drop. Each bracelet in turn. Earrings, toss. Bending over, I merely let the anklets fall. Lay my sword down, in its sheath. My spear was with the big man, wherever he was.
A little pile of the most precious iron in the world.
I buried my face in my hands a bit. A touch longer. A bird call or two more. Put my gauntlets back on, greaves, carry the helmet, got up and continued along this path, wherever it led. At that point, I didn’t care. Away from people.
Aisu, she could track me by the iron. What was left of her body couldn’t, of course, but probably others could. It had to go. Perhaps I yet needed its protection, especially if they were hunting me, but I needed not to be found much more so. I should have left it with Maitlan, but my mind, too much had happened.
I gave up this path for another heading in a direction I thought was north. Perpendicular to the battlefield and the march we took to get there, as far as I could tell. These hills were all laid out east to west, laid down by a great flood long before. They made direction easy. The path was more or less north, some of the time more, some of the time less. Etienne said to go in that direction, and I did.
I knew I should stop, rummage through his satchel. He’d given it to me for a reason. Walking. That was the thing to do now. Put some distance between me and so many bodies. Keep my own body moving. One foot ahead, another and another, dodge a branch here, one gets stuck in my hair and breaks, try not to think.
As walks went, it was nice. More of a hike, really. The animal trail took me along meadows, around hills. When it passed a decent sized stream, I stopped, stripped and stepped in. It was cold, so cold goosebumps formed on my skin. Almost painful, it was good. Splashed cold water on my legs, body, torso, and washed and washed. No soap, I rubbed sand over my legs and arms. Rinse and wash, rub and rinse.
At least the blood on me and my armor was my own. The stream took the ash and dust and dirt. After, I stood still. Naked. The sun was late and it was spring and cool. The water flowed, little eddies around the pink and brown and green and grey stones. I shivered. The rapids were little bumps in the water, made from the current rushing by, always rushing, down and down, but the bumps stay. Flowing as fast as it can, through shapes that stay as long as they can.
The air, cool against my skin, took the wetness away in its own time and in mine, I dressed back in my sweaty undergarments, gambeson and armor. The plate, at least, would protect me. At some point, I’d have to give it up or be recognized, but for now, I was keeping it. The thought of running into a giant spider or worse, whatever was worse, I wanted this on.
As the day wore on and the sun began sinking, I wondered why the iron didn’t stop my magic. Or energy, or whatever it was. Brin saw it first, so long ago, when I’d met the Seclazrin Archbishop, but I had troubles believing her back then. The iron stopped working at some point.
Maybe my magic adapted. Or something else.
I wondered if Rand had survived. More steps along this path. Gun was probably dead, too, given that he’d almost certainly been directly under the fire that had fallen from the sky. No. I knew that he was dead at some point, so he was. No more stolen kisses from my dance partner, and guilt and sadness overtook me.
I survived where Etienne said no human could. It seemed indecent, wrong. Bechalle, you bastard, you were successful.
At the peak of a steeply sloped meadow along a hill, I sat on a log, and watched the grass ripple in the wind. White flowers from a delicate herb peaked through, caught in the waves passing over and over the greenery.
A deity.
The sun slowly set in the distant horizon.
As the rust-colored sun sunk from view, white clouds glinted gold across their outlines, the sky a vivid pastel red fading to purples then dark blues. The breeze quickly cooled, gently wafting along the grass, its light green color darkening in the fading light.
The moon rose, pale white outlined in golden yellow, not quite full, and the first star, bright and glinting. I watched until more and more stars appeared, until they dotted the black sky, the sun long gone.
When the grass of the meadow was as dark as it could ever be, I rose from my seat and found a large tree with low, low and long branches, and settled in underneath in the cavity it created and atop its bed of soft needles.
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End Book 4. Book 5 will begin shortly.
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