in defense of this valley and this Realm. Not only those legionares who fought beside us, but also those holders and soldiers alike who fell to our enemy and whose bodies were used as weapons against us." He was silent for a long moment. "They all of them deserved better than this. But they gave their lives to stop this threat from spreading and growing into a plague that could have ravaged all the Realm, and it is only by the whims of chance that we stand over their graves rather than them standing over ours."
Another long silence fell.
"Thank you," Bernard said quietly. "All of you. You fought with courage and honor, even when wounded, and when the fight seemed hopeless. You are the heart and soul of Aleran legionares, and I am proud, honored, and privileged to have commanded you." He turned to the empty mouth of the cave. "To you," he said, "I can offer only my apologies, that I could not protect you from this fate, and my promise that your deaths will make me more vigilant and dedicated in the future. And I ask that whatever power governs the world after this one to look upon our fallen with compassion, mercy, and gentleness that was not given them by their slayers."
Then Bernard, Sir Frederic, and half a dozen Knights Terra who had arrived with the relief force knelt upon the ground, calling to their furies. Some kind of rippling wave ran through the earth, toward the cave, and with a low rumble, the shape of the hillside the cave was in began to change. It was a slow, even gentle motion, but the sheer scale of it made the ground tremble under Amara's feet. The mouth of the cave sank and began to close, the motion slow, ponderous, inevitable, until the opening in the rock was gone, and only the hillside remained.
Silence settled over the valley, and the earthcrafters rose to their feet together. Bernard turned to face the fifty-odd surviving veterans of Giraldi's century. "Legionares, fall out. Pack up your gear and make ready to march back to Garrison."
Giraldi gave a few subdued orders, and the weary men began the walk back to Aricholt. Bernard stood watching them go. Amara remained beside him until they were out of sight.
Walker came pacing slowly out of the sheltering trees, Doroga padding along beside him, his cudgel over one shoulder. They walked over to Bernard and Amara, and Doroga nodded to them. "You fight well, Calderon. The men who serve you are no cowards."
Bernard smiled a bit, and said, "Thank you for your help, Doroga. Again." Then he faced Walker, and said, "And thank you as well, Walker."
Doroga's broad, ugly face spread into an honest grin. "Maybe your people can learn something," he said. Walker let out a rumbling snort. Doroga laughed.
"What did he say?" Bernard asked.
"Not say, so much as... mmph. It is something like, spoiled fruits all taste the same. He means your people and mine shared a common enemy. He allows that you are passably good substitutes for the Sabot-ha, my clan, if there is fighting to be done."
"He's the reason we survived that rush in the cave," Bernard said. "I won't forget it."
The big Marat rolled his massive shoulders in a shrug, smiling. "Send him some apples. Maybe not spoiled."
"My word on it." He offered Doroga his hand. Doroga traded grips with him without hesitation.
"And you, Windrider," he said, turning to Amara. "You will not make a good Aleran wife, I think."
She smiled at him. "No?"
He shook his head, gravely. "I will wager that you will not clean much. Or cook much. Or make blankets and things. I suspect you will find yourself in trouble, all the time."
"It's possible," she agreed, smiling.
"Good in bed, though, from the sound of it."
Amara's face heated until she thought steam must surely rise from it. "Doroga!"
"Woman of trouble," Doroga said. "But good to hold. My mate was one such. We were happy." He struck his fist lightly to his heart, Aleran style, and bowed his head to them. "May you be. And may your fallen people be at peace."
"Thank you," Amara stammered.
Bernard inclined his head as well. Without further words, Doroga and Walker departed, walking slowly and steadily without looking back.
Amara watched him, standing close beside Bernard. She didn't remember when she'd twined her fingers with his, but it felt natural and right. Bernard sighed. She could feel the pain in him, even without looking at him, without