petty when looking death in the eye.
Maes’ skin was ashen, the color drained from it with the blood from his wrist; insects crawled across his slack face. Khirro brushed them away in disgust. He deserved better than to lay in wait under a tree, devoured by bugs tiny piece by tiny piece.
The scars on the little man’s neck made Khirro think about the kind of life Maes led, of the blood he spilled in the name of magic, of the pain and frustration he must have felt at having no tongue. Such bravery from such an unlikely person. And in the end, he sacrificed everything so his brother might live.
Did he know his words would work, or did he determine to give up his life only in the hope it would be enough to save Athryn?
Guilt filled Khirro. Here he stood in the presence of true love and courage; seeing it made him realize he didn’t truly understand it. He thought he loved his family, and once thought he loved Emeline, but now saw he didn’t really know. A knot formed in his throat. The sad story of his life paled in comparison to those of his companions. One had been a concubine by eight years old, one a soldier by twelve. Society ostracized the third for an affliction he couldn’t control and the others spent their lives hiding, not allowed to be themselves. Why did he deserve sympathy? In comparison, his life had been good.
More bugs crawled onto Maes’ face and Khirro brushed them away. Here lay a man he should strive to be more like in his life. A tear rolled down his cheek for the little man who couldn’t speak but still made such an impact on those who knew him.
“Khirro!”
The tone in Elyea’s voice pulled him immediately from his thoughts and brought him to his feet. He drew his arm across his face, wiping the tear away before she saw it.
“Ghaul!”
Khirro covered Maes’s face and hurried across the hot sand, skidding to a halt beside Ghaul at Elyea’s side. Both of them stared at the magician sitting up, blinking rapidly like a man emerged from a dark cave into bright sunlight, blinded and confused.
“Athryn.”
Water from Elyea’s cloth shone on the smooth surface of the magician’s face; he looked at Khirro as though he didn’t recognize him. The blank look didn’t escape Ghaul’s notice.
“Do you not know us?” he asked looming over them.
Athryn looked at him, then at Elyea, and finally at Khirro again. He turned with visible effort to scan the forest and beach.
“Where is Maes?” A croak emerged from his parched throat. “Where is my brother?”
“You were gravely injured.” Elyea moved the damp cloth to his lips, but he pushed it away. “Maes saved your life.”
Athryn’s expression changed; his eyes darted desperately between his companions, searching for an answer.
“But where is he?”
Somewhere in the forest, a bird sang an unfamiliar song, sad and lonely to Khirro’s ear; the sound constricted his heart. How did you tell someone his brother gave his life to save him? He tried imagining what it would be like to wake and find the person you loved most in the world gone, but couldn’t. He shook his head dispelling the thought as Elyea spoke again.
“... and he spoke, Athryn—he said the words to save you.” She spoke quickly, emotion laid bare on her face as tears rimmed her eyes. “Because of him, you live.”
Recognition dawned in Athryn’s expression. He understood the cost of what his brother had done.
“Where?” he asked again, voice loud and gravelly. He grabbed Khirro’s hand, pulled himself to stand on shaky legs.
“There.” Ghaul pointed.
Khirro watched Athryn stumble toward the copse of trees sheltering his brother’s body from the sun. He reeled across the swath of sand, stumbling, falling to his knees. Elyea gasped, jumped up and rushed to help him. He took her hand, using it to climb to his feet, then staggered away; she followed no farther. The magician reached the trees, tore aside the blanket and fell to his knees at his brother’s side.
A howl of misery broke the still afternoon air as Athryn found his voice, his sorrow stopping the bird’s lonely song as though put to shame. Elyea’s shoulders trembled as she wept along with her friend, feeling his loss. Was she doing as Khirro had, imaging what it would be like to lose a loved one? Was she thinking how she’d feel if she lost Aryann, or Leigha, or Despina?
Athryn cried out