Chapter Twenty Six

Alistair's pelt was soaked with blood, some no doubt Gwanwyn's father's, but mostly his own. More seeped or gushed from his many wounds all over, dripping off him and making pools on the ground. One of his paws was twisted. The poor creature was only half-conscious from the pain.

Looking at him, sprawled on the floor of the burnt forest, patches of light illuminating different parts of his abused looking canine body, Gwanwyn thought he was the most tragic and beautiful thing she'd ever seen. She came closer, raising his head and resting it gently on her lap, burying her head in his neck, ignoring all the gore.

"Don't leave me, Alistair. How can I lose everyone dearest to me all at once?" she sobbed.

Then she made herself stop crying. After all, it was Alistair who was in pain, not her.

"You did it, you know, Al. You avenged her," but her voice caught. She couldn't speak of Arin. "And you saved my life. I wish I could save yours— oh." Gwanwyn regretted those last words as soon as she said them. She couldn't stop saying the wrong things somehow. So she decided to be silent until she could think of something she wouldn't regret.

So Gwanwyn sat there on the hot, cracked dirt with Alistair's head in her lap. He gazed up at her and she found herself looking into his eyes where she found emotions rather than words. And she could feel his pain. Not his physical pain, but all the wounds inside. They shared the blanket of grief and at that moment their eyes were the same. And Gwanwyn knew that there was no longer a need for words because the silence said more than words ever had.

They stared into each other's eyes, or rather, their own eyes because now their eyes were the same. No one blinked, no one's eyes were clouded by tears, and both eyes spoke.

Nobody cared to see the smoke rising from the hot ground far away in other parts of the forest. Or the way the sun shined on the same side of each tree, illuminating the damage done by the fire. Or the way the sounds of the battle were beginning to quiet slightly, or the little birds who were coming to rest on the tops of the trees.

Alistair never shifted from his no-doubt uncomfortable position, never let out a sound of pain, despite the wounds that no doubt caused him agony, and Gwanwyn was just as still and quiet because they had so much to say and knew there was little time to say it.

Now his breathing was slowing, and while Alistair's pain grew, his eyes reflected relief.

But Gwanwyn's eyes reflected fear and sorrow; she couldn't bear the thought of being left alone.

Then images of people began to flash through her eyes, images of Evan, images of Arin. . .

In his last few minutes, Alistair's eyes spoke his final words, told Gwanwyn his final wish, and they both knew she would grant it. He wanted her to keep moving on.

Then he closed his eyes.

Soon she found herself holding the head of a pale, dark-haired boy instead of a wolf. His eyes were closed as if he were asleep, but he was still, and without a pulse, and Gwanwyn knew he was gone.

"Say hello to Arin for me," she said softly, and finally let the tears come.

Eventually, she ran out of tears and began to wonder what to do with Alistair's body. She could not bury him, for the ground was too hard to dig in. She picked him up like she had Arin that last full moon when Jude and Lina had been there, gently, and began to walk back towards the battlefield where the fighting seemed to have ceased.

She hadn't quite reached it when she encountered a blonde, grey-eyed rather muddy boy with several knives on his belt. The mud did not cover the intricate designs on his arms. She recognized him as one of the mages who had come to the cabin with so much news for Istelle so many days ago.

"Hi," he said, staring rather uncomfortably.

Gwanwyn nodded, "hello."

He looked like he wanted to say something else, but decided not to.

"Where can I find Istelle?" Gwanwyn asked.

"She should be over there by the lake pit or the medical station."

"Thank you." Gwanwyn headed in that direction, around the field. Still avoiding those bodies. . .

Istelle's pained expression became more sorrowful when she saw Alistair in Gwanwyn's arms.

"Oh. . ."

"Where are the Akeefa?"

"They took their bodies and left. That's what we're going to do now."

"But where will we put them?"

"I don't know. Maybe we'll bury them here. Spread out in the lake pit. . ."

"But not Al. I want to put him somewhere else," said Gwanwyn, surprising herself.

"Alright," Istelle agreed, "I'll ask a magician to help. . ."

"Thanks," nodded Gwanwyn as Istelle called Jake over.

When emotional Gwanwyn and Jake returned, almost an hour later, from burying Alistair, they saw Alexa a bat ashy, Cygnus a swan ashy, and Zarnieth a pegasus ashy landing at the edge of the pit where the bodies were being buried, all looking quite unhappy. "What happened?" Jake asked them.

"Altair fell off the edge of a cliff after Zarnieth mind swiped him just like we told him not to," said Alexa, "we couldn't catch him before he hit the bottom."

"You should have brought back his body then," said Istelle, but she didn't make them go back for it, for the flight would take hours. Instead, she ordered them to help her bury the others.

"Wait," said Istelle suddenly, stopping the two men about to bring the first body into the lake pit for burial, "there's still something left."

Indeed, there was a tiny droplet of water left at the bottom.

Istelle put her finger on it and rubbed it into the soil until it was absorbed into the ground.

A second later, Istelle was knocked backward by a puff of air shooting up from where her finger had been, whistling loudly, and suddenly the Amazara was there, swooping in and swallowing the whistling puff of air.

The bird landed on the ground and turned to Istelle.

It opened its beak and rhymed her a message:

Thank you, dear Istelle, my friend

Cyan is gone, Cyan is dead.

And after the forest was burned

The Symbol of air was returned!

This is truly wonderful indeed

Now all cursed by Cyan are freed!

The bird then winked and flew away.

It took a second to register. Then Istelle gasped and cried out, "Soren! Soren is free!"

But only Jake really understood what she was talking about.

When the Amazara flew away, the others found that Istelle was suddenly full of purpose and productivity, knowing all that had to be done and confidently distributing jobs and tasks.

As if she hadn't been at war all night.

Still, her mood was contagious, and the others followed her example, especially Gwanwyn, who was determined to continue doing Alistair's last wish for her until the end.

They were ready to leave several hours before sunset.

The Ennell said goodbye to the bloody battle and the buried dead and set out for the Cabin.

The leaders knew they would have much to do when they returned to the Cabin, and they would have to do more traveling and grow the army more. For now that Cyan was dead, her prophecy was broken, and the Lette had a chance of winning.

Istelle was glowing with joy for Soren was free and she planned to find him and had never been so excited for anything before in her life. Her large grey eyes shined with anticipation, and one look at her told you that her head was filled with happy dreams and thoughts and there was no point in trying to talk of serious things, not that anyone had the heart or reason to spoil her happiness.

Gwanwyn was quiet and thoughtful. She had searched for Arin's body but had come to the conclusion that it had burned in the flames. She was determined to move on like Al had wanted, but felt that she had to untangle the ropes inside her first, and had to really understand everything.

Talion was proud of the victory and was already preparing himself to ready his troops for another. He was still in commander mode, but aside from war and things, he was anxious to get back to the Cabin and see Nayana again.

Far away, Soren was realizing his freedom.

He had been in mad bewilderment, wondering what was going on until the joyful Amazara had come to him and explained some. Now he was hiking determinedly back to the Cabin, full of hope and excitement, hardly believing that what he had never dreamed of but wanted with every fiber of his being could actually happen.

And finally, the weary army arrived back at the cabin, less than an hour before the sun was to set.

Istelle ran ahead, practically flying up the hill to where Barrett sat, holding up the rain and looking ever so tortured, and she was so full of joy she wanted to laugh and cry and hug the world, but couldn't, she could only stand there, bent over, hands on her knees and panting.

Finally, she was able to catch her breath.

"We did it, Barrett," she said, and then laughed, "we've defeated Cyan, you can let the rain fall!"

And it was as if the heavens had opened, and sheets and buckets of water were falling down, and everyone ran for the hills and for their dens and for the cabin, slipping and sliding on the hills, crashing into each other because the rain was so thick they couldn't see a thing in front of them, and Istelle got as many people as she could inside the cabin, cramming them like sardines in the sky room and various bedrooms.

There was almost no point in looking out the window for more people because almost nothing but rain was visible, but she did it anyway.

And it was good that she did because if she hadn't, she would not have seen the silhouette coming up the hill towards the cabin. And though it was just a silhouette, she knew immediately who it was and her gladness turned to ecstatic bliss and she flew out the door, which was quickly shut behind her by Gwanwyn, who didn't wish for the cabin to flood.

Istelle ran, stumbled, and slid down the hill, knowing Soren wouldn't let her fall, and he didn't.

He caught her before she could slide by him and pulled her up into an embrace, on the side of the hill, with rain beating down hard on and around them.

And right at that moment, everything was perfect.