Myron looked to Arista again.
“He’s fine,” she said simply while nodding. “At least I know that.”
“And so, Lord,” Myron continued with a bowed head, “we say farewell to our king, our brother, and our good friend. May the light of a new dawn rise upon his soul.”
Myron then began the song of final blessing, and all of them, even Magnus, joined in.
Unto Maribor, I beseech thee
Into the hands of god, I send thee
Grant him peace, I beg thee
Give him rest, I ask thee
May the god of men watch over your journey.
Mauvin stepped out of the tomb into the crypt and returned with a dusty crown, which he lay upon Alric’s chest. “Sometimes the price of dreams is achieving them.”
Arista could not stay any longer. She felt like she was suffocating and walked out into the crypt. Entering one of the alcoves, she crouched down and hid behind one of the sarcophagi. She sat with her back in the crux of the corner. Her knees were up, and once settled, she let herself cry. She shook so hard that her back bounced against the wall. Tears ran down her face. She let them run unabated, dripping onto the robe, which dimmed until it went out.
She wanted to believe that when Gaunt blew the horn it had stopped the elves, that perhaps they had heard and were coming to dig them out, but it felt like a lie. She was deluding herself because there was nothing else to hope for, nothing to expect beyond despair. In the darkness, she laid her head down on her arms and cried until she fell asleep.
CHAPTER 23
THE SKY SWIRLS
The booming thunder continued shaking the walls and the floors beneath their feet as the metalsmith hammered the last rivet into the helm. The old man’s face was etched with deep lines partially hidden behind a mass of gray bristles, a beard he had no time to shave away. “There you are, lad. As fine a helm as you’ll find. It will take care of you. Protect that noggin of yours right well. War is upon us, my boy, but don’t worry—that’s only thunder yer hearing.”
“It’s their thunder,” Renwick replied.
The metalsmith looked at him curiously for a moment; then Renwick saw fear cross the man’s face as he put the pieces together.
“Yer the boy, aren’t you? The one who warned us? The one who rode up ahead of the elven army. You’ve seen ’em, haven’t you?”
Renwick shook his head. “Not me, but yes, my friend did.”
“Did he tell you what the devils look like? Rumor has it anyone seeing an elf turns to stone.”
“No, but I wouldn’t turn an ear to their music.”
“You’re Breckton’s squire now, eh? Aide-de-camp to the marshal-at-arms?”
Renwick shrugged. “I don’t even know what an aide-de-camp is.”
The old smith chuckled, wiping the sweat from his face with a filthy cloth as overhead an especially loud roll of thunder boomed. Renwick felt it in his chest.
“An adjutant,” the smith told him. Renwick shrugged again. “You’re like his butler, messenger, and squire all rolled into one, except you’re more like an assistant than a servant, which means you’ll get some respect.”
“But what am I supposed to do?”
“Whatever he says, lad—whatever he says.”
Renwick placed the helm on his head. It fit snug around the forehead and the thick batten felt soft and cushioning. He banged his head with the heel of his fist. The helm absorbed the blow. He felt almost nothing.
“It’s good.”
“You’ll be all right. Now get back to Breckton. I have more work to do, as I suspect you do too.”
Outside, the streets were wet; warmer air had melted some of the snow. Icicles dripped, sounding like rain, as overhead the sky swirled and thunder crashed.
He jumped a large puddle but did not account for the added weight of the armor. He had never worn any before. It was only a breastplate and helm, but with the shield and sword added, it was enough to throw off his balance. He came up short and splashed in the middle, soaking his foot with ice-cold water. He felt foolish holding the shield as if he expected to be attacked at any moment. The other soldiers wore shields slung on their backs. He paused in the street, examining the straps and trying to determine how to do that, when a flash of lightning arced across the sky and he heard a terrible crack. People on the street ducked into doorways, their eyes skyward. This got him moving again and he jogged the rest of the way to Imperial Square.