37
“And the shadow of the day will embrace the world in grey”
MAC
Ours is a somber group that descends the cliff, battered, weary, and bleak.
I now understand the meaning of the phrase “hollow victory.”
In the past, each time we did battle with the enemy, although there were losses, none cut so deeply, so close to the heart.
I realize belatedly that for some time now I’ve counted the Keltar as one of us: indomitable soldiers, battling tirelessly against evil, fighting the good fight, always surviving to wage war another day. I counted on it.
One of the good guys died tonight.
A man with family.
A legend of a Highlander.
There’s no hope Dageus survived the brutal gutting, the crushing blows against the cliff, and the subsequent twelve-hundred-foot fall.
Like the Hag, Dageus MacKeltar is dead.
Drustan doesn’t speak a word, supports Christian on one side, with Jada on the other, and they half carry, half drag the now unconscious prince down the mountainside.
When we reach the bottom and load him carefully into the Hummer, Drustan murmurs, “Och, Christ, how am I to tell Chloe? They fought so hard to remain together. Now she’s lost him for good.” He whispers something over Christian in Gaelic then turns to leave.
Ryodan steps into his path, blocking it. “Where do you think you’re going, Keltar.”
“Unlike you, I’ll no’ be leaving without retrieving what remains of my brother’s body for burial.”
He’s referring to Ryodan hastening us from the mountaintop without pausing to collect Barrons, which I know he did so Drustan and Jada wouldn’t see him vanish but no doubt appeared callous to the others.
Drustan’s gaze is bleak, haunted. “Too many times he took the burden upon himself to save us. I’ll see him buried properly, in the old ways, on Keltar ground, in Scotia. If the Draghar still inhabit his body, certain rituals must be performed. If not, aye, well, bloody hell if not, they’re free again.”
“I’ve no intention of returning to Dublin without Barrons,” Ryodan says. “I will collect your brother’s body as well. Christian needs you. Your clan needs you now.”
I search his face and am surprised to see something patient and understanding in those cool silver eyes.
“I know the sorrow of losing a brother,” Ryodan presses. “I’ll bring him back. Go.”
I wonder about Ryodan and Barrons. Did they once have other brothers? Did they lose them before they became what they are, or afterward? How? I want to know about these two, understand them, hear their tales.
I doubt anyone ever does.
Drustan glances between Christian and the shadowy entrance to the gorge, visibly torn, unwilling to do anything that might risk that for which his brother gave his life, equally unwilling to leave his brother’s body behind.
“Come, Drustan,” I say gently. “The living need you now. If Ryodan says he’ll bring his body back, he will.”
Ryodan says to me, “It may take time to find … all of him. Take Christian to Chester’s. Sequester him where we protected the Seelie Queen. He’ll be safe there while he heals.”
As Ryodan turns to go, Jada says, “I’ll come with you.”
“You will return with the others and protect them.”
“I’m not she who once—”
He cuts her off fast and hard. “I know who the fuck you are,” he clips the words out coldly. “You’re the only one that doesn’t. Dani could have anticipated the Hag’s movements. You could not. Jada.”
Ryodan vanishes into the night without another word.
I wince. That was harsh. Whether or not it was true.
The three of us join Christian in the Hummer and begin the long silent ride home.