The Kassian sun set, and more Charic did not come. The tribe rested by the tree the remainder of the day and on into the night. Except for the distant cry of desert animals, all was silent.

Tanin awoke as the moon was setting. Soon it would be dawn. He lifted himself onto his elbows.

Memine lay beside him, breathing peacefully. In sleep, her expression was pained but hopeful. Tanin willed himself to inspect the ruined ends of her legs. They were bound well, and he smelled burnt flesh; the Charic had cauterized the cruel wounds.

Once? Tanin wondered madly as fresh rage swept through his body. Or did they make multiple amputations, burning and binding as they went? As they . . . carved her . . . ?

Pinching pain in his shoulder and side reminded him that vengeance would have to wait. Or perhaps there would be no vengeance; Memine was here. They were, for the moment, together and safe. Other Fell were freed somewhere out there in the high desert, an environment they were accustomed to. All in all, seeking revenge suddenly seemed contrary to all they had achieved.

Not far away, Iona lay stretched out flat, her small body brown and brittle under the waning moonlight. He hoped—trusted—she would recover as she had before. He thought of no possible way to repay her.

Orrock sat cross-legged beside the still body of Mohani. Tanin watched closely for her chest to rise and fall, but it did not.

“Mohani?” he said to the monk.

Orrock said nothing. His half-closed eyes were fixed on the Agnise. As Tanin tried to form more words, Orrock bent and removed one of the strips of his old robe that Mohani had kept tied around her wounds from the dogrels. He tied the ragged orange cloth around his left arm, tightening it with his teeth.

Orrock rose and set Mohani’s hammer over his right shoulder, swinging his mighty horns out of the way to do so.

“Where are you going?” Tanin whispered.

“To pray.”

The monk walked away, his footsteps heavy. As he did so, Iona turned her head toward Tanin. The earth witch smiled, and Tanin smiled back, the kind of smile that is more sadness than joy.

“You saved my life. Again. Thank you.”

“I am with you, Tanin Fell.” She did not move anything but her mouth. She appeared incredibly fragile.

“But Mohani . . .”

“It was the wish of Orrock Guar, Tanin Fell.”

Tanin’s heart skipped. Orrock’s choice? Because the Agnise was an irritant?

No, he realized. That’s not why.

He brushed black hair from Memine’s forehead.

She is why. Us. We are why he chose me.

Tanin then ran a finger in the dirt, feeling the stone-like soil beneath. “What do we do with Mohani? We can’t bury her here.”

“We will leave her to the earth and its inhabitants, Tanin Fell. It is how all things must be.”

“To be eaten by animals?” The thought sickened him; it was no better than what the Charic’sada had done to Memine.

Iona appeared to understand his consternation. “To give food to the earth and its creatures is not the same as taking it by force, Tanin Fell. Yes. We will leave her here to rejoin the earth. Those which feed will one day feed others. It is right and good this way.”

Tanin let it go. To leave a loved one unburied ran counter to all he’d been taught, but under their present circumstances, he saw no wisdom in fighting the witch’s pronouncement. She’d certainly done more than her part on this quest, more than enough to earn the right to make funerary decisions.

He recalled the carnage of the previous day; the magic she had unleashed on the Charic, both at the river, and during their chase, which he’d watched with eyes half-closed in pain.

“Can all of your people . . . do what you did? With the plants?”

“Yes, Tanin Fell.”

“Then how could the Charic possibly have captured all of them, with that sort of magic?”

“There were too many of them, Tanin Fell. When the Charic came, my tribe concealed me. I was the youngest. They fought with the help of our forest, but the Charic were legion. My tribe had no chance.”

“Too many? How many of your people are there?”

“There were twelve in my family, Tanin Fell.”

Tanin was struck silent. Twelve? Only twelve? “But you said there are others.”

“Somewhere in Kassia, yes, Tanin Fell. We will meet them if the time is right.”

“When Anyi wills it?”

She smiled. “When the earth does, Tanin Fell.”

Beside him, Memine stirred. Tanin slid closer to her. Memine’s eyes opened slowly, and when they beheld his face, they widened.

“Tanin-rain.”

He hugged as best he could while she still lay on the ground. When they parted, her fingers touched his healed wound. “How is this possible?”

“I made good friends. How are you?”

“Tired. And very hungry. But I’m with you.” She ran fingers through his hair, which knotted with dirt and the grime of combat. “You came for me.”

“Forever, Memine. No matter what.”

“I hardly recognize you.”

“I’m not surprised.”

She pulled him to her and they kissed slowly, carefully, and the taste of it soothed his body.

“The forest is not far from here,” Tanin said, nestling beside her. “If we haven’t any food left, we’ll find some there, somehow. I’m sure Iona has her ways.”

Memine nodded her head against his own. “Tanin . . . what they did to my body—”

“Belongs to me. As mine does to you. Look at me, Memine.”

She did.

“We are among the last of the Fell. And so I say we are married. All right? We are. I think we’ve earned it.”

Her face tightened at his words, and Tanin smoothed the wrinkles in her forehead. “No. Don’t cry. There’s no time now. We’ll cry later.”

Memine pressed her lips together and lifted her chin in defiance of her tears. The gesture reminded him of brave Mohani.

Tanin rose painfully to his feet, his muscles tight and cramped after yesterday’s combat. He sought the shape of Orrock amongst a cluster of boulders many lengths away. “I’ll be right back. Get some more rest, we’ll have to move soon.”

Memine took a deep breath and closed her eyes. Tanin watched her for a moment before walking, slowly, toward the rocks.

Orrock sat atop a broad, flat rock, knees raised and arms draped across them. The war hammer sat tilted against the rock. The monk cut a powerful silhouette in the moonlight.

Tanin stopped at the rock but did not ascend it. He wasn’t sure he had the strength. Instead he leaned beside the hammer, enjoying the warmth of the stone beneath his skin.

“I’m sorry about Mohani.”

The monk was silent.

“I’ll never forget her. What she did for me. And for us.”

No response. Tanin let the silence grow before speaking again; clearly the Guar wanted to be left in peace, yet he could not help himself.

“What is next for you?”

Orrock sighed loudly in the pre-dawn darkness. “For me? The same as for you.”

Tanin tilted his head, questioning. Orrock slid from the rock and stood beside him.

“These Charic’sada, like their other clans, will continue to use their perverse scripture to destroy all that is good in Anyi’s world. They must be stopped. When I fought them in my youth, it was as a mercenary. The Guar feared nothing from the Charic. But now I have seen what they truly are. And what I have seen I cannot unsee, nor leave unanswered.”

“Some of the Fell escaped, and some other of their prisoners. I saw them running, some of them swam. The ones who made it to the top of the canyon, where did they go?”

“They ran far from that place. Rightly so. For now they are on their own. I saw many in every direction. With luck we will happen upon some of them. Fell, Danaei, or others. We shall have to wait and see what plans Anyi has for them. Or for us.”

“Do the Charic seek revenge? Will they double back to pursue us, or does their religion forbid it? I’m surprised they didn’t attack during the night.”

Orrock considered this. “I do not know. I believe they will continue west. To be cautious, however, we are best served going east. For now.”

Orrock looked down at him.

“Your betrothed. Will you stay with her?”

Tanin scowled. “Of course. We’re no longer betrothed, though. She is my wife.”

“Good. That is as it should be.”

“When you saw her under the blanket, you knew, didn’t you? What they’d done.”

“I suspected.”

“That’s why you tried one last time to get me to give her up.”

“Yes. In my experience, Tanin, it is rare that a creature will care for one of its own with a wound so dire. You are—exceptional.”

Orrock crossed his arms and resumed his long scan of the western horizon. In the east, long strands of vermillion clouds were lit by the rising sun. “The survivors of your kind . . . it is regrettable we could not save them all. But many will live on. If Anyi is for us, we will free them and any others when the time comes. And we will destroy the Charic’sada. We will rid Kassia of their plague.”

“That’s what Holy Creator Anyi says?”

“It is what I say.” Orrock turned to the east, squinting against the faint light. “The earth witch spoke the truth before we went after the Charic. We are now a tribe of Kassia. Whatever we face, we must face together.”

“And your mission?”

“My mission is unchanged. I will find Anyi when he desires to be found.”

Tanin thought of Memine, then of Iona. Of the slain Mohani, who’d spilled her blood for him. The most odd grouping Kassia had likely ever known.

“So, staying together is the will of Anyi?”

The monk set the Agnise hammer over his shoulder. “That is the will of Orrock of Guar.”

He walked back to their makeshift camp, and Tanin followed. Orrock shared the last of his salted dragon with the Fell; then, reluctantly agreeing with Iona, placed Mohani close to the roots of the bush, folding her arms over her chest and sprinkling dust atop her body. After a prayer, he carried Memine on his back, while Tanin carried the lighter Iona.

They walked together toward the woods, each in their own thoughts, prayers, and hopes.

Slowly, the sun rose on this tribe of Kassia.

THE END