They looked to Joden for answers.
“Joden?” Amyu’s voice cut through his daze.
He caught the scent of her hair, and it brought him back to the world. She’d brought her horse close to his, so close their legs touched. The others were ahead of them, quizzical looks on their faces.
“Joden?” Amyu repeated. “Are you well?”
“The dead,” he kept his voice low. “All around us.”
Her eyes went wide, and she glanced around, shifting in her saddle. So did Joden.
The dead were still there, still waiting.
“Let me have your reins,” Amyu said softly.
He nodded, but couldn’t seem to make his hands work. He felt her warm fingers on his as she slid the reins from his hands. He clutched at his saddle with a tight, desperate grip.
Amyu urged her horse forward, and nodded to Rafe. Rafe took the lead again, but this time at a slow walk. The other warriors took up positions around them, and their little procession headed toward the gates.
Joden felt his horse start to walk with the rest, heard the guards call out, heard the great gates start to swing wide to admit them. But he only had eyes for the dead, silent and watching.
The dead, lining the roadside.
The dead, who knelt, their heads bowed, as he passed. Row after row of endless, silent witnesses.
“Our dead travel with us, ride along beside us,” Joden recited the ancient words in his head, words he’d heard from his theas. “Unseen and unknown, but knowing and seeing,” he choked as he continued the litany. “Until the longest night, when we mourn our dead, who are released to journey to the stars.”
Yet these dead were still here.
Joden kept his eyes open, and met the gaze of every warrior, every man and woman. It was the least he could do, maybe all he could do.
He endured until Rafe lead them through the gates, and then he closed his eyes.
It was enough.
Amyu’s gentle handsled Joden into the Healing House. She didn’t question him, or ask him to open his eyes, just calmly put his hand on her shoulder and warned about steps and low doorways. He was grateful for her quiet strength at his side.
There were exclamations, and various people speaking all at once, but Master Eln’s voice cut through the confusion. “Bring him in here, Amyu.”
Amyu moved and he moved with her, sensing the walls of the hallway.
“Joden?” came a shocked exclamation. “Amyu?”
Joden opened his eyes. Lara, Warprize and Queen of Xy stood there in tunic and trous, confused and anxious.
Behind her, Joden caught a glimpse of an old woman lying on a bed, staring at the ceiling, with others standing around her. There was something familiar about that profile, something—
The old lady turned her head, taking them in. Her eyes reminded him of the Ancients.
A soft exclamation from Amyu and he was being tugged further down the hall, to the door where Eln was standing. Joden caught a last glimpse of the old woman as Lara shut the door and followed them. “Joden?” she started. “How did you—”
“Questions can wait,” Eln said, ushering them in. “We need to see to injuries first. On the table, Joden.”
Joden pulled up short, jerking Amyu back.
Eloix lay on the table, her back wounded, raw and festering. Master Eln stood over her with a handful of bloodmoss, his face grim. Amyu knelt by Eloix’s head, and yet she was guiding him in. Master Eln was behind him.
Yet they were there, at the table. Master Eln plunged his hand into the wound, and the bloodmoss withered away.
