Epilogue

Epilogue

The wide river shone in the evening sun like a line of fire in emerald lands. An orange sky hung in the wake of the sun above rolling hills and the last towering sentries of the Forest of Giants. Early fireflies danced above the current like sparks kicked off the flaming sunset, and water lapped against the hull of the dugout, pulled along by two oars powered by inhuman might.

St. Cristabel Esclanore rowed, her armour and kit packed away lest she were to tumble into the water by accident and sink like a stone. Shed washed, and her chestnut curls poured down over shoulders to her chest and back. Broad shoulders led to arms corded with powerful muscle made visible by her short-sleeved tunic.

Kyembe of Sengezis eyes drifted downward as he watched her work. Eppon the Bear-Breaker had mentioned the size of her chest when describing her to his brother. He had to admit, the dead Garumnan might have been crude, but he certainly hadnt been blind. A glance to Wurhi and he saw her gaze lingered on the same thing.

They exchanged a nod of understanding before turning away lest they were discovered.

Yet more notable to him was the saints seemingly endless vitality. She hadnt paused rowing once since theyd gotten into the boat.

Are you sure you do not want a break? he offered, as he had several times already.

She grinned, her oars cutting through the surface. They say I have the strength of a hundred men. This is no trouble to me.

He looked at her arms, noting sourly that they were thicker than his. Youre exaggerating, he said quickly.

Perhaps, St. Cristabel shrugged. I have not had the pleasure of testing it. Perhaps I should. Were I to gain a rope long enough-

Hold on! Wurhi suddenly sat high in the boat, her green eyes sparking with anticipation. Here it comes!

The three travellers watched the last of the giant trees drift by.

At long last, they had exited the Forest of Giants.

Yeeeeeees! Wurhi crowed, kicking her feet. Were free! Free! Hell to you, filthy forest! Hell to you, drooling ogres! Hell to you dead, ashy wizard! Freeeee! she pumped her fists in the air. Aaaand rich! She laughed, pulling out Gergorixs treasures as she had many times. Were going to sell youuuu. She caressed the golden goblet. And yooou. She caressed the golden talisman. Not you, though. She clutched the egg preciously. Youre going to go right on display when I buy a palace. No! No! Maybe Ill turn you into a pendant again!

She handled it fondly. But we will sell youuuu. She caressed the silver-bladed sword.

Wait, may I see that for a moment? Kyembe interrupted her.

He turned the blade over in his hands, the evening sun playing over the silver edge and jewelled hilt. Oh myyyy, he mused. I would keep this. Theres magic in it.

Really?! She snatched it back. The glitter of its emeralds reflected in her green eyes, and she gave it a few test swings. Well-balanced, and despite its length, it was quite light. Yet she still frowned. I dont know how to use something this long. I can stick people with the pointy end but not any of that fancy stuff you do.

Simplicity itself to solve! he laughed. I shall teach you! With your reflexes, you would be a natural!

I dont need anything like tha- She paused, suddenly remembering how shed run afoul of demons, warriors, wizards and ogres ever since shed met Kyembe on that abandoned dock back in Zabyalla.

His breath failed.

Ahead of him, in a line parallel to the forest, hung his remaining army.

They had all been crucified.

In all that had transpired, Avernix, Lukotor and Eppon had spared no mind to what was not even an afterthought to them; the Bear-Breakers slave boy. The boy that had been released by Kyembe of Sengezi. They could not know how that boy had waited while Avernixs army rode into the trees, leaving behind just enough to guard the captives. They could not know how hed hidden in the encampment, slowly visiting the other captives at night, parting their bonds and arming them with weapons left behind. They could not know how theyd risen up the same night that the ogres had butchered the main force, doing much the same to their own guards.

Or how theyd waited.

Or how theyd plotted their revenge, and how a mass of enraged voices had come together to conjure torture upon torture, each more unspeakable than the last. It was these who had reclaimed their own freedom and now rode to the exhausted, lonely overlord. It was them who rode him down and bound him when hed feebly tried to flee. It was these freed captives who dragged him screaming, back to camp.

We were waiting for you, father of my master, Eppons slave-boy stood among the circle of folk that bore burning brands, bronze hooks, horse-whips and spiked scrapers. To the despairing overlord, they looked like a gathering of demons. Its too bad youre alone. I wouldve liked to repay that fat fool you chained me to in kind. Oh well, well just take his share from your flesh.

He pointed. Take him! But make sure youre gentle! We want him to last!

Avernix screamed as the mob surged toward him from all sides.

In those days, the legend of the Egg of Gergorix finally came to a close, but a new legend - the Fate of Avernix - was born.

The horrors worked on the overlords body were spoken of only in whispers, save by those that committed them. They shouted out their deeds loud enough for the stars to hear.

Watching it unfold from the branch of a high tree was a crow.

A lean crow with feathers white as clouds and eyes as red as blood.

It stayed on the branch, still as death, until the overlords last sobs echoed and died.

Then it took to the air with a single beat of its wings. In its claws it clutched a pouch which contained the ash that was once Lukotor the Wise.

As it flew off, a strange sound seemed to follow in its wake.

An old womans mocking, wet cackle.

The End

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