Movement V: Requiem (II)

    They had won through to the gates, but at a terrible price. Fully a third of the column had fallen, and those who survived had wounds. Dozens more died of grievous injuries. Through some stroke of luck, Malron and Arion had escaped virtually unscathed, and they were instrumental in the healing that followed. Cullan and Kellan had nasty flesh wounds, but they would recover. All were dispirited, and Haleth most of all. There were injuries physical, mental, and emotional, and it was even worse when the orcs had laid siege to the keep.
    My fault, mine, somehow I should have been able to protect them…
    Most children had lost one parent, and there were plenty of orphans. No one muttered against Haleth or blamed her, but that made her feel only worse. She blamed herself for everything—at least until Malron shook some sense into her.
    “You fool,” he said. It was two days after the battle, and Haleth had come to him to pour out her guilt. “It’s not your fault.”
    “Then whose?”
    “Mine, if anyone’s. It is true that I should have tried to stay by Haldad’s side, but he always was headstrong. I couldn’t keep him behind; he insisted on running out. My fault,” he whispered, and she knew that he carried a burden even heavier than hers. It had been her duty to guard the keep; it had been his to protect Haldad.
    “It wasn’t your fault either,” she said quietly. “Neither of us could have persuaded father to remain behind in safety.” Saying those words relieved her of part of her barriers. Although she had refused to weep openly, she found herself sobbing uncontrollably as Malron held her to his shoulder and murmured in her ear.
    Then she gathered her dignity about her and said, “Arrange for a funeral.”
    “We can’t bury them. The orcs will desecrate their bodies as soon as they break through.”
    “Then burn them. We will inter their ashes in the ground.” It was not the Haladin’s way to burn the dead, and Malron frowned and opened his mouth to object.
    “Do as I say and burn them!” she said fiercely before Malron could say anything. “Would you leave them to die unburied, or to be desecrated by the orcs?”
    He bowed and left.
    The next day, they burned the bodies of those they had managed to recover. Arion gathered up the ashes and placed them in an urn; the Haladin would inter them later… if they survived.
    Their food was running out. At least they had enough water; they had a dozen wells within the keep. But the Haladin were muttering of death and doom. Some few had thrown themselves from the battlements in the rivers already, preferring to drown rather than to face starvation or an orc’s sword.
    My people have lost hope, she thought dully, and I certainly cannot give them any.
    “We will wait here,” she said to her people after the funeral was over. “We will remain in the keep.”
    And the people bowed and left. What else was there to do but to wait for death?
    The next week, the orcs attacked. Haleth could not even bring herself to care. Did it matter what manner of death the Haladin suffered? Soon enough, they would join friends and kin they had lost. The only question was when.
    But she led her warriors out anyway to attempt to drive them back. The Haladin fought with the strength of vengeance, but little by little, step by step, they were driven back to the keep. They barred the gate, and she called the Haladin to her before the gate as the orcs rammed it.
    “My people,” she said. “I will not lie to you. We are going to die here today.” The log slammed into the gate again as the orcs shouted in their foul tongue. “Here we will make our stand, and here we will die. If you wish to bear weapons, do so. If you wish to cast yourself into the rivers, do so. If you choose the latter, leave now.” She waited, but no one moved an inch, their eyes fixed upon Haleth. “I can give you no more life, but know that I love and respect you, Haladin.”
    “Haleth,” someone called. “Haleth. Janya gave you Haldad’s standard before; now Malron and I give you your own.” Bríani stepped forth, bearing another roll of cloth. Haleth unrolled it and caught her breath. It was as beautiful as Haldad’s. There was a falcon with her wings spread upon a white field, and she clutched an arrow in her talons.
    “Thank you,” she whispered. “You honor me, my sister, my brother.” Was this the secret that Malron had kept within his chest?
    She did not know who raised the shout, but within moments, everyone was shouting. Even the orcs halted their siege as the Haladin roared as if with one voice. “Haleth Haldad’s daughter! Raise the standard! Raise the standard!” Arion gently replaced the hound with the falcon, and then he struck it in the earth.
    “My people!” she shouted as they quieted. “My people! Today, we may die, but we shall die fighting! For honor and glory!”
    Thump.
    “For honor and glory!” they echoed.
    Thump.
    “For our comrades who have fallen!”
    Thump.
    “For our comrades who have fallen!”
    Thump.
    “For the Haladin, today we stand and fight!”
    “For the Haladin, today we stand and fight! We stand and fight!” Many had tears openly flowing down their cheeks as they grabbed weapons and formed a tight mass before the gate. Haleth found herself surrounded by people she knew—Malron at her right hand, Arion at her left, Cullan and Kellan behind her. But when Bríani, a vaguely familiar sword in her hands, shoved beside her and glared at Arion, he grinned and took his place beside Cullan and Kellan.
    Thump.
    Then the gates shattered and the orcs poured through as the Haladin raised a cry with once voice.
    Haleth only remembered the killing and the dying. So many people were dropping about her, but so many orcs were dying as well. She was screaming as savagely as everyone else around her, Haldad’s bright sword flickering and taking orcs’ lives so easily, perhaps in vengeance. She noticed almost nothing, save when she thought she heard the distant sound of horns blowing.
    She did notice when Arion was wounded as an orc slashed him across his stomach. His mouth opened in a silent “oh” and he sank to his knees. All Haleth could think was, Another friend dead, my fault, mine, I should have been able to save him.
    She made his way to his side. No one else had noticed save for her, and she cradled his head to her.
    “I’m sorry,” she whispered as tears blurred her eyes. “I should have been able to save you.”
    “Love you,” he said in a voice rough with pain. “Do me a favor, Haleth—end it.”
    She stared at him, her mind benumbed with shock. “Don’t leave me here to die in agony,” he rasped. “Give me a clean death.”
    “Arion—”
    “Do it if you ever loved me!” His eyes were bright with pain and sorrow. “I’m sorry that I have to ask you to do it, but ‘m too weak. Can’t.”
    Haleth nodded, although it felt as though her heart was tearing in two. “Farewell,” she said quietly.
    Then she took up her sword and thrust it into his heart. He held her eyes to the last, and sighed with relief as his eyes slid closed. When she pulled it out, he was dead.
    Why can he have relief, but I have only sorrow? She thought about falling on her sword here and now. What was the point of living?
    She heard the blowing horns again as she morbidly examined the red blood on her sword. Malron seized her arm.
    “Look!” he cried, pointing outside the gate to the north.
    “Arion’s dead,” she said woodenly. “I killed him.”
    “You killed…” he trailed off as he noticed the gut wound. “Sister, he would have wanted it.”
    “He asked for it. But I killed him.”
    “Oh, Haleth…” he held her to him as she sobbed wildly and the battle raged about them. But when she heard the sound of horns again, she raised her head and stared outside.
    “They have come.” Her face twisted in rage and pain. “But why didn’t they come sooner? Why didn’t they come in time to save Arion?”
    Malron had no answers for her.
    The orcs pulled out of the ruins of the keep to meet this new threat. The Haladin were shouting in triumph as the Elves swept down from the north, a great Lord at the host’s head as they engaged and utterly defeated the orcs. When Gelvar and Janya came riding upon a horse at the great lord’s side, they cheered.
    But through it all, Haleth could only weep.

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