Bitter Winter Page 6

  He wrapped his free arm around his bundle of wood and turned back toward the Altair cabin. “I’ll come see him later.”

  Holden nodded and reached out to grip his shoulder encouragingly before letting him go.

  Back at the cabin, Kyrin and her family slowly gathered around the table where Lenae had laid out breakfast. Jace placed the wood in its box and put a couple of pieces in the fire before joining them. He sat down next to Kyrin and all was quiet. No one seemed to know what to do. Jace glanced around the table. Kyrin and her mother looked lost, while her brothers all sat red-eyed and grim-faced.

  At last, Marcus bowed his head, and everyone else followed his example. He took a deep breath, but his words didn’t come for a long moment. When he did speak, his voice lacked the confident strength Jace was used to, and it wavered at times. Marcus thanked Elôm that they’d driven the soldiers back and hadn’t been defeated and that most of them were still here to have this meal together. After that, he prayed for strength for everyone. That was all he could manage and ended with a hoarse “amen”. Jace added his own internal plea for divine comfort for the Altairs and for all those dealing with loss this morning.

  Silence fell again as they all picked at their food. Even Jace found it hard to force any down. A heavy and stifling gloom hung over them. No one said a word for a long time. The silence was only broken by another gentle knock at the door. As if coming out of a trance, Marcus straightened, and then rose to answer it. Aric and Talas entered the cabin when he opened the door. To see Talas was almost startling. Jace was so used to his grin and air of mischief, but his red-rimmed eyes lacked any sort of sparkle. Even the times Talas had been injured, his good humor had remained. Today, however, there wasn’t even a hint of it.

  Aric approached the table, hesitating, and focused on Lydia. His voice was rough but compassionate. “We came to let you know Trask and Darq are gathering the dragons to help clear a burial site. It will take some time to get through the ground, but it should be ready by tomorrow.”

  At first, Lydia barely reacted, but then she blinked at the tears building in her eyes and shook her head. “No, he should be buried at home… with his father.”

  Everyone looked at her, but Marcus responded first. “I agree.”

  Kyrin and the rest of her brothers nodded. Jace could understand their desire to keep their family graves together.

  With a slow nod, Aric asked, “When do you want to do it?”

  Lydia bit her lip, and when she spoke, Jace could tell she fought mightily not to cry. “We should get it done… as soon as we can.”

  “We could prepare today and leave tomorrow,” Marcus suggested.

  Silent agreement passed through the family. Jace prayed no snowstorm would blow in and delay their plans. A funeral would help provide closure.

  “I’ll let Trask know,” Aric said. He stood for a moment before heading back to the door.

  “Thank you,” Lydia said after him.

  He glanced back and nodded.

  Once he was gone, Marcus took his coat from a peg on the wall. He faced his family as he pulled it on. “I should go check on my men.”

  Kaden rose from the table. “Me too.”

  He, Marcus, and Talas left the cabin, and Lydia got up, quietly clearing the breakfast dishes. Before Kyrin could join her, Jace put his hand on her arm.

  “I’ll go with you to Mernin, if you want me to.” He didn’t want to intrude, but he also wanted her to know he was more than willing to be there.

  “Yes, please,” she murmured, her eyes watery.

  He squeezed her arm. “Then I’ll go get ready and be back in a little while.”

  * * *

  Nighttime darkness engulfed the cabin. Kyrin’s brothers had lit some lamps, and Jace added a couple of pieces of wood to the fire. He glanced at Kyrin, who helped her mother finish the supper dishes. Neither of them spoke. No one did. Jace wasn’t used to the cabin being so quiet. It had always been so lively with Kyrin’s brothers around. Would it ever be the same again? Jace let out a long sigh. Why was joy so easily snatched away?

  Glass clinked as Kyrin and her mother placed the dishes in the cupboard. Lydia then turned to her sons at the table.

  “Ronny, why don’t you get ready for bed?” she said softly, weariness weighing on her voice. “We all need rest.”

  Ronny said nothing, just got up and walked toward the back of the cabin, his head bowed. Jace didn’t think he’d spoken since the attack. He was too young to have had to face so much heartache already. Liam followed Ronny, and Marcus and Kaden both got up, pushing in the chairs around the table. As they prepared to turn in for the night, Kyrin joined Jace at the fireplace. She stood beside him for a moment, staring at the fire before looking up at him.

  “You should go so you can sleep in your own bed tonight.”

  He shook his head. “I don’t mind staying.” His back might, but it was a small price to pay.

  The briefest hint of a sad smile lifted her lips. “I know, but I do want you to rest comfortably.” She breathed a deep breath. “I’ll be all right.”

  He watched her for a moment, debating, but he wouldn’t insist. Slowly, he nodded and headed for the door. As he slipped into his coat, he turned to Kyrin, who had followed him. Her face seemed especially pale in the dim light. The emotions and grief were taking a heavy toll. He hated seeing her in such a state.

  He reached for her, pulling her gently into his arms. She latched onto him, burying her face in the folds of his coat. For a long moment, they just stood there. When Jace gently pulled away, Kyrin’s cheeks were wet. He reached up, wiping the moisture with his thumbs, and cupped her face in his hands. His throat clogged up, strangling his voice. “I wish so much that I could bear this for you.”

  “I know,” she barely whispered. She closed her eyes to collect herself. Finally, she opened them again and stared up at him. “Thank you for bearing it with me.”

  Chapter Six

  Trask pulled on his boots and then sat back in his chair with a heavy sigh. Today would be one of their first funerals held in camp. The only other one had been for Mr. Hagen, and that was due to an unfortunate accident, not an attack. Thirty freshly-dug graves waited on the edge of camp. Another thirty-eight deeper into the forest for the fallen Arcacian soldiers. So many.

  A hand rested on his shoulder, and he looked up. Anne gazed down at him, her deep green eyes dimmed by sorrow and sympathy. One of those graves could have been hers. Had the soldiers broken into the cabin, they could have slaughtered her and her mother. He could hardly bear that thought.

  “It’s my fault.” His voice dragged hoarsely past the knot in his throat.

  Anne’s forehead wrinkled, and she sat in a chair across from him. “What is?”

  “The attack. I got complacent. I never imagined there would be an attack in the dead of winter. With all the snow and the cold, I didn’t think . . .” He shook his head, the guilt wearing him down. He’d failed the people he’d set out to protect. “I should have done more. I should have had more security in place.”

  Anne reached for his hands, squeezing them between her soft fingers. “You’re the one who started this camp, but you’re not the only one responsible for it. We all grew complacent. It isn’t only on you. None of us could have predicted an attack now. I still don’t know how they managed to reach us through all that snow. And that’s probably exactly why they chose to attack now. They knew we would be unprepared.”

  Trask nodded and sighed again. “We relied too much on the cold and snow. Unfortunately, that’s what made us easy to find. They probably had their crete spies flying over the forest at night looking for us now that the trees are bare.”

  “We can’t change what has happened; we can only make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

  She spoke with such attractive strength and determination. She hadn’t once broken down in a weepy panic since the attack. He knew men with less fortitude. A slight smile worked its way to his lips. How he loved this woman.

  Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. “What?”

  He just shook his head and lifted her hands to his lips to kiss them. “I just love you, that’s all.”

  * * *

  Mernin. The last time Jace had visited this area, he’d just been whipped and beaten by the General’s men at Fort Rivor. The pain from that experience crawled along his back like a phantom whip and stabbed through his ribs. He looked ahead to the large, gray-brick Altair house as he dismounted Gem. It reminded him of a couple of the homes where he’d once been a slave, though the Altairs had never kept slaves.

  Giving his dragon a light pat on the shoulder, Jace cast a glance over at Kyrin. The memories of pain faded, and real pain squeezed his heart. Kyrin’s gaze was fixed on the spot where her father was buried. What a tragedy that her childhood home held such a difficult mix of both fond and painful memories.

  Jace scanned the yard for any sign of danger even though Talas had scouted ahead of them with Storm. Everything was quiet and frozen. The only sign of life was the smoke rising from the house chimneys, and the area seemed just as devoid of wildlife as Landale.

  With a low creak, the back door to the house opened, and an elderly man stepped out into the snow. He wore a familiar, bright smile, but it faded quickly once he noticed the misery on their faces. Pulling on his coat, the Altair’s old groundskeeper, Carl, crossed the yard to meet them, the lines in his face deepening.

  “What’s happened?” he asked when he stood a few feet away.

  Jace looked over at Lydia, who struggled to form even a simple word. Marcus stepped up and put his arm around her shoulders.

  “Camp was attacked.” He hesitated, clearing his throat. “Michael was killed.”

  Tears slid down Lydia’s cold-reddened cheeks. Kyrin’s weren’t far behind. Carl stared at them as if frozen for a moment, but his eyes turned watery. He blinked hard and shook his head, murmuring, “I’m sorry.”

  Marcus cleared his throat again, though his voice came out husky. “We wanted to bury him here, with Father.”

  Silence engulfed them as Carl let the news sink in. He then said hoarsely, “Let me help you bring your things inside.”

  Everyone turned to unload the dragons. After taking his things from Gem, Jace turned to help Kyrin. With their packs in tow, they followed Carl up to the house. The warmth inside enveloped them as they stepped into the back entry. Carl’s wife, Ethel, waited there, her stern face knitting in concern. Carl set aside the pack he had carried for Lydia and gave his wife the news. Though she was stiff and not particularly friendly, Jace could see the sorrow in her eyes. She even stepped forward to give Lydia a hug. Why did it always have to be death that brought people together?

  Once things were settled, Jace followed the rest of the men back outside. It didn’t seem that Marcus or his brothers would rest until they had accomplished their task. With the dragons to clear most of the snow and help thaw the ground with their fire, they went to work digging a grave. Since only a couple could work on it at a time, Jace turned his attention to the gravestone just to the left. The top barely peaked out through the snow.

  Calling to Gem, he set about clearing the snow here as well. When his dragon had scraped away most of it with her powerful claws, he used a shovel to remove the rest. Before long, he had a large area around the grave cleared. Resting against his shovel, he stared at the gravestone. William Altair. Traitor.

  Jace let out a long breath, tight bands wrapping around his chest. Kyrin’s father had been a good man. If only Jace could have gotten to know him better, especially now with all that he had planned for a future with Kyrin. Would he have approved?

  Yes, Jace believed he would have. Kaden had told Jace that his father liked him even though they’d known each other for only a brief time. Jace’s eyes stung, and he closed them for a moment. Lord, please spare Kyrin and her family any further pain.

  * * *

  The only funeral Daniel had ever attended before today had been his father’s. How was that even possible? He felt like such an imposter standing here with all these grieving people. He hadn’t been in camp long enough to know any of the deceased that well. Yet, they were his people. He should have been able to prevent this.

  The sounds of women weeping added a backdrop to Trask’s voice as he spoke over the graves. His words were thick, and he had to clear his throat several times. Really, these were more his people than Daniel’s. Trask had been leading men for far longer than Daniel had even thought about it. Trask had grown up learning that responsibility. Daniel had squandered any times his father had tried to teach him how to be a leader. And yet, somehow these people still intended to make him their king. They were prepared to die to accomplish it. He certainly hadn’t earned any such loyalty. Trask would have made the better king.

  Daniel’s vision blurred, his eyes stinging. He blinked hard. Would he ever be able to do right by these people and protect them from future heartbreak? Sometimes he wondered why Elôm hadn’t just wiped out his family and started with someone new. He had many good men to choose from who had far more experience and wisdom than a once-pampered prince.

  A firm hand gripped his shoulder. He blinked the wetness from his eyes and looked over to find Sam. The talcrin’s gold eyes beamed compassion that bolstered Daniel. Sam had been his friend since long before any of this. He’d known Daniel as a child. He had seen Daniel at his worst, and that was strangely comforting. Sam held no grand illusions about.

  The funeral ended a short time later with a few final words from Trask and everyone slowly dispersed. Daniel blew out a gusting breath, standing at the graves a moment longer before turning toward the cabins. He didn’t realize that Sam had remained behind as well until the talcrin fell into step beside him.

  “How are you holding up?”

  Daniel shook his head. “I keep thinking that this is my fault. I should have been able to prevent this, but I was too foolish and naïve to secure my place on the throne. If I had suspected Davira and taken precautions, none of these people would even be here. They would be at home with their families, finally living in peace. I’m supposed to be king, but I can’t even prevent a massacre of my own people.”

  “You may be king, but you are not Elôm,” Sam said in a tone far more fatherly than Daniel’s own father had ever used. “You can’t see or know all.”

  Daniel sighed again. “Yes, but shouldn’t a king be wiser than that?”

  He glanced at Sam, who wore a faint smile.

  “Kings are people, just like the rest of us. They must be wise, yes, but not a single one is perfect.”

  “I don’t know. Balen seems a lot more perfect than I’ll ever be.”

  “Yet, his people are suffering under Davira’s rule, and he is here, same as you.”

  This did give Daniel a bit of pause. After all, if Balen had suspected his stepmother of treachery, things might be very different in Samara. Really, they’d made the same mistake. Still, Balen had far more experience and wisdom as a result.

  “At least he took his position seriously. All I did was fight any training my father tried to give me.”

  “You will learn,” Sam assured him. “You’re more than willing now. And don’t forget that Elôm is working, even in our mistakes. He would not have allowed Davira to succeed if it was not part of His plan.”

  As hard as it was to accept and understand, Sam was right. Daniel just had to trust Elôm to see it all through.

  “Don’t sell yourself short.” Sam squeezed his shoulder again. “Anyone can see that you love your people and want to do what is right for them. You’ve come a long way from where you were when you let me walk out of the palace with the Scrolls, but even then, you knew what was right.”

  The memory of that night brought a small smile to Daniel’s lips. It seemed like a lifetime ago. Thank Elôm he had let Sam leave. He looked into his friend’s gold eyes.

  “Thanks, Sam.”

  * * *

  They held Michael’s funeral shortly after preparing the grave. A few snowflakes fell from the overcast sky as they all gathered at the edge of the frozen hole in the ground, where Marcus and Kaden laid Michael. Jace stood next to Kyrin and rested his hand against her back to let her know he was there to support her. At first, no one said a word, but then Marcus spoke, softly and sadly. He spoke of how much Michael loved his family and his great desire to protect them. He shared memories of their time growing up—memories that drew brief, teary smiles. In conclusion, he reminded them all that Michael was with their father and grandfather now, enjoying the blissful life Elôm promised His children.

  By this time, Kyrin and her mother cried openly, and her brothers each had tear tracks glistening down their cheeks. A few tears fell from Jace’s eyes, and he put his arm around Kyrin’s shoulders, drawing her close. She leaned into him, weeping.

  After a few minutes to compose themselves, the men grabbed shovels to fill in the grave. Gently parting from Kyrin, Jace joined them. The shovel felt strangely heavy, as if weighed down by the memories. He’d taken part in too many burials—first Kalli and Aldor, then Josan, and now Michael. So many good people gone from this life. They were in a better place now, but many people sorely missed their presence and positive influence.

  Once the grave was filled, they stood for a while longer before the cold drove them inside, where they gathered in the dining room. Memories of their previous visit returned to Jace again. His gaze focused on the end of the table where he’d sat bloodied, beaten, and in agony. He then looked at Kyrin. She too stared at that spot before meeting his gaze. As painful as it had been, the memories weren’t all bad. In those moments, her gentle care for him had first awakened feelings he’d never had for anyone before her.

  Her attention shifted away from him when Carl spoke.