Flame of Requiem by Daniel Arenson

Author:Daniel Arenson [Arenson, Daniel]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Daniel Arenson
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

ELORY

She walked through the forest, her sword drawn, waiting for enemies to emerge from behind every tree, boulder, and hilltop.

The land here is beautiful, Elory thought. Pines, carob trees, and cypresses grew upon the rolling landscape. Boulders of chalk and granite dotted the land, and anemones and cyclamens grew between them. Sparrows and finches bustled among mint bushes, ants scurried in their hives, and gopher holes rose from wild grass. The Te'ephim River gurgled to her left, lined with rushes, and ibises and herons drank from its water.

And yet, despite the beauty of this place, Elory still felt like she were back in Tofet.

Every bird that fluttered out from a bush, Elory started and winced, expecting a lash's blow. Every tree branch that creaked in the wind, she raised her arm protectively, expecting a blow from a master's fist. Even walking through patches of grass, no movement or sound around her, her heart kept racing, her eyes darting nervously, her muscles tense and ready to bolt. At her side, Meliora walked with her sword sheathed, but Elory kept her blade drawn, forever ready for more violence; she could not imagine a day without violence.

Meliora walked closer to her. "Elory, it's all right. You can sheathe your sword."

"I'll keep it drawn." Elory nodded. "Just in case."

Meliora raised her eyebrows. "Isn't your arm tired?"

"I'm used to hauling baskets of bitumen that weigh many times more." She smiled thinly. "I can carry a sword."

Meliora looked at her, eyes soft in concern. Her hair was slowly growing back; golden stubble covered her head, almost long enough for fingers to grasp. Her wounds were healing too, the scrapes and cuts on her body closed and scabbed. Even the wounds on her shoulder blades looked less swollen and inflamed; Elory had helped clean them just an hour ago in the river.

My wounds too are healing, Elory thought. The whip's cuts on my back are scabbed over, the pain in my arm is fading, and my bruises are fading, but the wounds inside me remain.

"Are you sure you're all right?" Meliora whispered.

"You have to understand." Elory stared steadily into her sister's eyes. "All my life, I was beaten. Brutalized. Unable to resist as they cut me, kicked me, tortured me. For the first time in my life, I hold a weapon. A real weapon. An ancient sword of Requiem—Lemuria, blade of Queen Kaelyn herself. For the first time, I fight back against our enemies."

Meliora lowered her head. "And all my life, I was pampered, spoiled, fed sweets, perfumed, sheltered, and lied to. Unable to resist as they fed me the fairy tales. I never held anything more dangerous than a dessert spoon. Yet now I too hold a sword of ancient Requiem. And I too will fight our enemies." She drew Amerath, touched the blade to Lemuria, and smiled thinly. "I will always fight by your side, sister. Whenever you rest, whenever you sleep, whenever you're afraid or hurt, I'm here for you. I will never leave you.

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