sight.
Major Swift Dragon made a motion to Yimt, who took a step forward. “Parade…attention!” The soldiers came to attention as best they could. Captain Ervod was struggling to keep the ship steady, but the seas did not appear to be cooperating.
Prince Tykkin nodded to himself, then began speaking. The first few words were carried away by the wind, but Alwyn knew the speech by heart. Everyone did. The Prince went through the motions, exalting the fallen, though Alwyn doubted he would even recognize them.
“…through their sacrifice the Empire will survive, and the light of civilization will shine in all the corners of the world…”
As the Prince spoke, Alwyn looked around the formation. Anticipation and apprehension filled the air. Coughs and shuffling feet were muffled by the wind, but there was no hiding the looks in men’s eyes. They all shared the same thought as they looked at the four bodies. That could be me one day. What happens next could happen to me.
“…in taking the fight to our foe, we stamp out disorder and chaos, bringing the order of the just throughout the known lands. Ours is a cause most worthy, and so to fall in the furtherance of that cause is an honor…”
Alwyn caught Yimt’s eye and realized they were both sneering at the Prince’s words. Alwyn coughed and looked over at the Prince, but he continued to talk, his eyes unfocused and staring at nothing.
The ship took a wave off the port bow, sending a shudder through the timbers. The Prince stumbled, then righted himself. He looked questioningly at Major Swift Dragon, who saluted. The Prince returned the salute and without another look back, walked across the deck and into his cabin.
The roll was called for each section that had lost a man. When they got to Harkon, the entire regiment stiffened. Word of his strange death had quickly made the rounds. Soldiers understood dying in battle—they even were beginning to come to terms with the idea of a ghostly afterlife—but to have your shadow burned was something new.
Major Swift Dragon took a moment and panned his eyes along the ranks. When he came to Alwyn he paused, and Alwyn held his gaze. The major looked away and called the last name.
“Harkon.”
Waves battered against the hull with dull booms.
“Private Harkon.”
A clewline snapped and began whipping back and forth against a sail.
“Private Kester Harkon.”
The ship rose on a large wave, then slid down the other side. Spray shot up from the bow and sprinkled down on the assembly, but not a person moved to wipe his face.
Major Swift Dragon pulled his saber from its scabbard and held it skyward. Four soldiers standing at the ready bent and lifted the first body and carried it to the railing.
A mournful, keening sound came from somewhere high in the rigging of the mainmast. Alwyn knew Tyul Mountain Spring, a dïova gruss, an elf lost to the natural order after bonding with an overpowering Silver Wolf Oak, was up there. Miss Red Owl had decided to keep him with her, perhaps as another project, as Yimt put it. Alwyn wasn’t sure there was anything that could be done for the elf. He seemed to live in his own world. When he wasn’t sitting and staring off into space, he was climbing the mainmast that had once been Jurwan’s ryk faur Black Spike to howl whenever there was a burial at sea.
“Sends spiders crawling down the inside of me spine it does,” Teeter whispered to Alwyn.
Alwyn felt something similar, but he thought it had more to do with what was about to happen than with the lost elf’s sorrow.
Major Swift Dragon brought his saber down and the soldiers tipped the body over the side. As they did so the regiment began reciting the oath, a last, bitter sendoff that they had come to cherish the way you trace a finger over an old scar.
We do not fear the flame, though it burns us,
We do not fear the fire, though it consumes us,
And we do not fear its light,
Though it reveals the darkness of our
Major Swift Dragon made a motion to Yimt, who took a step forward. “Parade…attention!” The soldiers came to attention as best they could. Captain Ervod was struggling to keep the ship steady, but the seas did not appear to be cooperating.
Prince Tykkin nodded to himself, then began speaking. The first few words were carried away by the wind, but Alwyn knew the speech by heart. Everyone did. The Prince went through the motions, exalting the fallen, though Alwyn doubted he would even recognize them.
“…through their sacrifice the Empire will survive, and the light of civilization will shine in all the corners of the world…”
As the Prince spoke, Alwyn looked around the formation. Anticipation and apprehension filled the air. Coughs and shuffling feet were muffled by the wind, but there was no hiding the looks in men’s eyes. They all shared the same thought as they looked at the four bodies. That could be me one day. What happens next could happen to me.
“…in taking the fight to our foe, we stamp out disorder and chaos, bringing the order of the just throughout the known lands. Ours is a cause most worthy, and so to fall in the furtherance of that cause is an honor…”
Alwyn caught Yimt’s eye and realized they were both sneering at the Prince’s words. Alwyn coughed and looked over at the Prince, but he continued to talk, his eyes unfocused and staring at nothing.
The ship took a wave off the port bow, sending a shudder through the timbers. The Prince stumbled, then righted himself. He looked questioningly at Major Swift Dragon, who saluted. The Prince returned the salute and without another look back, walked across the deck and into his cabin.
The roll was called for each section that had lost a man. When they got to Harkon, the entire regiment stiffened. Word of his strange death had quickly made the rounds. Soldiers understood dying in battle—they even were beginning to come to terms with the idea of a ghostly afterlife—but to have your shadow burned was something new.
Major Swift Dragon took a moment and panned his eyes along the ranks. When he came to Alwyn he paused, and Alwyn held his gaze. The major looked away and called the last name.
“Harkon.”
Waves battered against the hull with dull booms.
“Private Harkon.”
A clewline snapped and began whipping back and forth against a sail.
“Private Kester Harkon.”
The ship rose on a large wave, then slid down the other side. Spray shot up from the bow and sprinkled down on the assembly, but not a person moved to wipe his face.
Major Swift Dragon pulled his saber from its scabbard and held it skyward. Four soldiers standing at the ready bent and lifted the first body and carried it to the railing.
A mournful, keening sound came from somewhere high in the rigging of the mainmast. Alwyn knew Tyul Mountain Spring, a dïova gruss, an elf lost to the natural order after bonding with an overpowering Silver Wolf Oak, was up there. Miss Red Owl had decided to keep him with her, perhaps as another project, as Yimt put it. Alwyn wasn’t sure there was anything that could be done for the elf. He seemed to live in his own world. When he wasn’t sitting and staring off into space, he was climbing the mainmast that had once been Jurwan’s ryk faur Black Spike to howl whenever there was a burial at sea.
“Sends spiders crawling down the inside of me spine it does,” Teeter whispered to Alwyn.
Alwyn felt something similar, but he thought it had more to do with what was about to happen than with the lost elf’s sorrow.
Major Swift Dragon brought his saber down and the soldiers tipped the body over the side. As they did so the regiment began reciting the oath, a last, bitter sendoff that they had come to cherish the way you trace a finger over an old scar.
We do not fear the flame, though it burns us,
We do not fear the fire, though it consumes us,
And we do not fear its light,
Though it reveals the darkness of our
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