Idiot.
Her legs didn’t work. If Wichtig let go, she’d drop like a stone. He held her tight, his half-hand rising to stroke her hair and getting caught in the tangled chaos.
Not much left.
What she had she pulled together. One last effort. It cost her everything.
“I’ll be waiting,” she whispered into his ear.
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
How many good dreams can you remember? How many nightmares? How often have you seen a crowd gather around to witness an act of friendship? How many times have you seen a mob around the scene of a terrible tragedy?
We forget kindness and cling to horror.
This is our reality.
—Vorstellung - Natural Philosopher
Bedeckt watched in horror as Wichtig killed Stehlen, saw regret blossom on the Swordsman’s face the moment he understood what he had done. It was a terrible look on a man whose empathy never went beyond empty words. It was like seeing that instant in a boy’s life when tragedy makes him a man.
The battle outside forgotten, Bedeckt watched as Wichtig held Stehlen. Saw her draw another hidden knife and hold it to his belly. Saw her decide not to kill the Swordsman. Watched as she whispered something in his ear and went limp.
Wichtig held her for a while longer, stroking the rat’s nest of her hair, before lowering her to the ground. Tears ran from hollow eyes as he knelt over her, blinking as if he struggled to find some way of undoing what he’d done. But there was no undoing murder.
I’ll never see her again. Somehow, Bedeckt knew it was true. All the years they spent together he treated her like shite. Even after that night of drunken rutting in an alley, he brushed her off, kept her at arm’s length. She told him she loved him and he pretended not to hear.
Coward.
Bedeckt’s horse fell screaming through the roof.
It landed like an explosion, like someone forced wine into a skin until it burst. Blood and bone and horse guts adorned everything, hung like festive ornaments from every edge and corner. Ropey curtains of intestine laced the air.
Bedeckt blinked, salty horse blood stinging his eyes, and looked up. Most of the roof and much of one wall was gone, smashed to kindling. Far above, flaming clouds roiled in the sky like bubbling oil. For a moment, all was blotted out as the dragon swooped past, wings spread wide. Once again he heard the sounds of battle. Framed by the remaining walls, he saw his dead fighting a losing war against the Exorcised inner demons of six thousand Gottlos infantry.
Stehlen dead. Wichtig learning regret.
“What the hells was that?” asked Wichtig, staring into the sky.
“Arsehole,” said Bedeckt. When the Swordsman shot him a hurt and confused look he added, “That was my horse’s name.”
“Good name,” said Wichtig.
Bedeckt laughed, his chest shaking, and Zukunft stared at him like he’d lost his mind.
“It’s not real,” he said, meaning it as comfort. She didn’t look comforted. “I’m dying.” He saw she didn’t understand. “I’m still back in that tavern. On the floor. Some mad priest’s sword in my belly. I’m dying.”
“No,” she said. “You’re here. With me.”
“I can’t be. If I’m here, I’m mad.” The words poured out of him. “If I’m here I’m hallucinating, I’m insane. If I’m here, he’s here,” he gestured at Wichtig, “and she’s dead,” he pointed a blunt finger at Stehlen’s corpse. “If I’m here, my delusions pulled my dead from the Afterdeath to haunt me.” He sobbed. “If I’m here they’re all dying again, fighting to protect me and I don’t know why. They’re throwing away any chance they have at redemption for me. Why? Why would they do that?” Bedeckt grabbed Zukunft’s slim shoulders, dragging her closer. “I can’t be here. I’m sane.”
Through the gaping hole in the wall, Bedeckt watched the dragon swoop low over the raging war and breathe chaos on all, demon and dead alike.
The sky bled.
The earth screamed its torment.
I’m done. I’m dying.
Each breath was more difficult than the last.
Bedeckt’s guts were infected with rot, right to the core of him. He felt it like fire.
“You’re here,” said Zukunft. “With me.”
No. I can’t be.
Through the gaping hole in the wall, Bedeckt saw a man dressed in filthy white robes. Exorcised demons surrounded the Geborene. The mad priest saw Zukunft and his eyes lit with holy fire.
Not real.
Vergangene crawled from her mirror and stood behind Zukunft. Beyond her, Bedeckt watched the approaching priest, picking his way through the mud and shattered bodies.
“This is the end,” Vergangene said. “This is it. This is what I have planned and manipulated and worked for.”
She’d lied to him, tricked him. Nothing here would stop Morgen, undo the damage Bedeckt did the boy.
Why didn’t she look happy?
“This isn’t real,” said Bedeckt. “You aren’t real. None of you are real. I am sane.”