Ren shivered, startled to find she had wandered up to a door leading into the courtyard.
She hesitated, glanced around, and finding no one watching her, headed outside. Shadows plunged the courtyard into darkness, except for a few Hiwan guards who vigilantly watched the bodies of the old Emperor and his son. Ren approached slowly, eyeing the massive platform that had been built as the funeral pyre. Black lotus flowers surrounded the pyre. In the background, men and women moved about, no doubt preparing for the time they would chant and bless the bodies before they were burned.
Ren studied them in the silence.
Soon, the air would fill with heat, flame, and the melodic chants meant to accompany the Emperor into the heavenly realms of the Triad. Ren could almost imagine it: the sultry smoke. The distant noise. She studied the bodies, so calm in death, and felt a vague stirring.
She didn't ever get to know Isao. And Emperor Saemon had frightened her. Still, she felt sad for them. For the Empire. For her.
A cloud shifted overhead, spilling moonbeams onto the bodies.
Ren felt a tug at her heart.
How unlucky her young husband had been, to die so early, and fall so fast.
Isao
A strange stillness seemed to hang in the air over the Okuna glade.
In the aftermath of the battle, all were fatigued. Khalem dozed while Isao, Ranbelt, and Celty finished bandaging each other up, drinking and refilling water pouches, and discussing their next steps in low tones. Each kept looking over at the nearby trees, as if waiting for an enemy to jump on them from the forest.
Isao kept a careful eye on Ranbelt – a strong fighter, despite Isao’s assumptions otherwise – and noticed that his aura had changed; he had become morose and quite serious. For the first time, Isao wished the bright, almost annoyingly energetic, Ranbelt was back, even if he had been grating with his constant laughter.
"Well," Isao said, gazing out of the glade. "Let us press on. It will be a difficult journey. The sooner we arrive to Havin, the better for all of us. Especially Khalem."
Taking in a ragged breath, Khalem awoke at the sound of Isao's quiet murmurings.
The others helped him stand, putting around his bandages, tightening and retightening where they needed it. Khalem grimaced with every movement. His eyes flickered to Celty. "The herbs," he said. "They help a little. Thank you."
She inclined her head once.
They started off, with Isao eventually asking Celty to take the lead. She did so while taking extra precautions: holding her nose up to sniff the air often, and darting her eyes from place to place constantly. She kept a distance from the rest of the group, but Isao couldn’t be sure whether this was because they moved so slowly with Khalem, or because she wanted to meet the threats head-on by herself first.
They eventually moved out of the glade, and out of the highlands. The beautiful, rolling fields became flowery meadows, then grasslands. Here a strange stench filled the air.
Khalem, who panted with almost every step, grimaced. "The stink."
"Yes," Isao murmured, shaking his head. "The land here is . . . strange."
"We are nearing the Isan region," Ranbelt said. "Watch and prepare."
A few hours into their slow journey, Khalem stumbled. Isao reached forward, grabbing his mentor and catching him before he fell. Ranbelt quickly supported him from the right.
"Easy there, unsmiling man," Ranbelt said, little humor in his voice. "A mighty tree creates a great fall."
Khalem's nostrils flared. "Please," he whispered. "A break."
"There." Isao nodded toward a copse of trees not far away. A line of the trees ran down a short, unexpectedly lush, embankment. "I think there's water there. Let's all rest."
With the group’s help, Khalem sank down to the earth, and braced his back against a large boulder. He squeezed his eyes shut with a groan. Blood seeped out of his bandages, staining his arm and clothes a fresh crimson. Isao motioned for a water pouch, and Celty handed it to him.
"Here, Khalem. Drink," Isao urged.
The General drank, water dribbling down his chin, until he drained almost the whole pouch. Finally he shook his head. "Enough."
Ranbelt's eyes were trained somewhere in the distance as Khalem rolled his head back against the boulder and fell into sleep. Isao straightened, leaving him to his rest, and approached Ranbelt.
"Ranbelt? Does something out there worry you?"
Ranbelt nodded toward what looked like a smudge of gray off in the distance. "You see that?"
"Yes."
"That's the outer border of the Isan nation."
Celty let out a long breath. "Then we're getting close."
"Yes. We are."
Isao sat down on a fallen log, grateful to take a rest himself. His body ached. His muscles felt swollen and stiff. Like Khalem, he wanted to sink into sleep until he never had to wake again, but he didn't. "Ranbelt," he said. "You were a mighty warrior today. We surely would have died without you as well, and much sooner. Thank you for your help. Where did you learn to fight?"
"I had brothers growing up. I had to survive somehow!" Ranbelt laughed.
The mirth in his tone prevented Isao from really believing him, yet again. "Truly?"
Ranbelt shrugged. "You know how it is as a traveler. You pick up a piece of learning here and there. I find my ways to educate and improve what I know."
Celty scowled, and Isao sensed that neither she nor Khalem would ever truly trust Ranbelt so long as he jested about everything. Isao wasn't sure he could blame them.
Isao leaned back, staring at the blue sky. He thought of his father. He pictured Saemon's wise face, his strong features. Would he be proud of how far Isao had come? Would he know one day all Isao had to endure to serve the Empire?
The sound of a voice startled him. Isao opened his eyes, blinking out of his stupor. "What?"
"Isao," Celty said. "You fell asleep. Wake up."
His eyes opened wide. "I fell asleep?"
She nodded toward Ranbelt, who was just rubbing his eyes awake as well. Next to him, Khalem continued his rest, his eyes shut and his face sporting a grimace.
"I let you rest. It's only been an hour or two, but I figured we'd need the strength. All has been quiet."
"Thank you, Celty."
Slowly stretching out his tight, weary muscles, Isao stood. Ranbelt did the same. Eventually, Celty crossed over to Khalem, putting a gentle hand on his arm whilst leaning back. She was leery of waking a deeply sleeping, highly trained soldier.
Khalem jerked awake, his good arm swinging, just as Celty seemed to have anticipated.
"General," she said, dodging his flailing limb, "we must continue."
Khalem blinked, regarded all of them, and finally nodded. "Yes," he murmured. "We must. It will be a . . . difficult thing."
Isao, Ranbelt, and Celty helped him stand, tighten his blood-soaked bandages, drink more water, and prepare for the trek.
Isao started off first. He stepped ahead of the group, peering down the grassy embankment. It gave way, sloping down into what appeared to be a land filled with bogs. His nostrils flared.
A difficult thing, indeed.
They stumbled through the bog-filled Isan nation hours later.
Worn paths along the outer edges of the first marsh indicated that someone had patrolled here: There were sets of fairly fresh tracks. Twisted old trees with gnarled roots and knobby branches welcomed them, reaching out with spiny arms and trunks that resembled screaming faces. Bugs buzzed around them, making annoying whistles in their ears. The stink of the air lay on them like a thick perfume here.
Once they crossed through the dry grasslands and into the bogs, they encountered a straight path that led all the way in. Isao could only hope that it connected with Havin, as it seemed there was no other way through the marsh.