Chapter 4 - Pursuit
Pushing hunger and thirst from his conscious mind, Ripred trotted along. With a much greater stride than a nibbler, he could conserve his energy, walking at a pace that, for him, was leisurely. Part of him wished he could carry a dozen nibbler pups on his back, but the experienced veteran won out. All of his energy would be needed for fighting. He could battle multiple gnawers without injury, when the same fight would cost many nibbler lives. Whenever the rats caught up, every second would mean life and death. Not for him, but for all the brave little mice near him. Every rat that got past him would mean pain, blood, and loss for these refugees. He had no special love for mice, not like Luxa, but in his weary state, they looked so much like gnawer pups. And he hated needless death in any form. He'd dealt so much slaughter in his time, and he never wanted to reach a point where he completely stopped caring.
Nike flew over, reporting that the head of the column had reached relative cover. The wide tunnel where the pups and elderly from the first groups they'd rescued had been hidden. Side tunnels would be less direct routes out of the Firelands, but it was better than staying out in the wide open cavern. Not only were the fumes and ash far worse out there, the nibblers would be far too vulnerable if the Bane's armies overtook them in such an exposed region. In tunnels, there would be fewer points of attack, and Ripred's deadliness could be more effectively leveraged.
Although Howard had stitched him up yesterday, he still felt the sting and ache in his shoulder. When the mice had been suffocating in the pit, Luxa had lost all sense, and when Ripred prevented her from flying off and getting herself killed, she had gone so far as to stab him. That moment had been a wakeup call for the old rager. He easily could have blocked the attack, but he genuinely hadn't believed she'd go through with it. Clearly, Luxa's emotions could still utterly overwhelm her, despite all her training, and her maturity far surpassing most children. The ash and dust aggravated his wound, a constant reminder that the girl on which this whole operation depended couldn't always be trusted to act wisely. Though, perhaps the wisest thing she had done so far was telling all these nibblers that he was her chief military adviser, and that they should follow his orders as if they came from her.
A badly wounded nibbler drifted toward the back of the formation, and soon he trotted beside Ripred. Missing an eye, an ear, and his tail, the young mouse looked proud and determined. "You're a rager," the mouse said.
"Yep."
"You could outfight a hundred nibblers with ease."
"I already did, intercepting two of the three groups of gnawer reinforcements."
"It might take a dozen nibbler lives to achieve what you can without taking so much as a scratch."
"That's the burden of a rager. You always survive, even when a battle costs the lives of everyone else."
"Thank you."
Ripred almost tripped. "Excuse me?"
"Thank you for fighting on our side. Your presence easily doubles the chances of our species avoiding extinction. And if you had fought on the Bane's side, the gnawers could extinguish all of their competitors."
"As you just explained, I'm not taking much of a risk in helping you. Even if my mission fails, and you all get wiped out, I'll probably survive."
"The cost one pays, and the risk one takes, is an important part of what earns someone gratitude… but still only part. Results matter too. If my entire generation dies fighting so the others can escape, we might be remembered for our sacrifice… but it will still be you who made the greatest difference."
These thoughts of course weren't at all new to Ripred, veteran of a hundred battles, winner of wars, and slayer of thousands. But it was still striking to hear such words from a young nibbler, who had already been so badly hurt, and clearly intended to keep fighting for as long as he breathed. "You've got quite a philosophical mind, though not much more than a pup. What's your name?"
"Calc," he said. "But it is alright if none but my family remembers it. Thirty just like me already died, and hundreds more soon will. For us, it is enough that our people live on. We can't all be remembered, but that pales in importance compared to the future of the nibbler race."
"They weren't just like you," Ripred said quietly, growing morose as his mind filled with the images of a hundred dead comrades. "Every life is unique, and every life matters."
"Sage words, coming from one who has ended so many lives."
"Not all lives have the same value." Ripred said. "If someone decides to murder a pup, their own life just dropped in value by a lot. If someone starts a war for selfish reasons, their life now means next to nothing."
"In your estimation?"
"Of course! And in the heat of battle, that's all that matters! I can't afford to hesitate, even with skill and experience as unmatched as mine. If I decide someone needs to die, I make it happen, without thinking twice. In a fight, if people are dying, my judgment on who deserves to live is all I have. I know I've killed at least some who didn't really deserve to die, but I've saved the lives of far more."
Despite his wounds and weariness, Calc smiled. "Good. I trust your judgment. And your priorities."
"I'm flattered, but you might recall that the Queen wanted us to avoid needless conversation."
"Not needless. Not at all. I was taking your measure, and for more than just myself. I shall share what I've learned with my surviving friends and peers. We will obey you without question, knowing that you will use us well. Like you, we rate most lives as precious, but some are far more so than others. If spending our lives will save many more, don't hesitate. We are yours to command."
The nibbler increased his pace, moving through the numerous mice of the rearguard, encouraging all to treat Ripred as their general. As always, the rager's heart and mind pulled him in different directions. He hated how often he held such responsibility, with lives under his command, with the power of life and death over so many. But he also knew he was worthy. The best rat for the job. If he chose who lived and who died, the total deaths would be greatly reduced, and most of those killed would either be those who deserved it, or those with the courage to face death at his order.
It couldn't stop the pain.
Decades ago, he'd mastered that pain, so that regret and sorrow never slowed him down in a fight, and never made him hesitate when killing needed to be done. But that didn't mean the pain had ever completely left.
At that meant his life still had value, as more than just a living weapon. If he ever lost all concern for the lives he took or the allies he lost, then he would be a monster. Perhaps a monster on the right side… but a monster nonetheless. He hoped the pain never fully left.
If the Bane's forces were consistent, if they pursued them without letup, and attacked them relentlessly, many good creatures like Calc would die under his command.
And Luxa's. Her orders mattered even more than his.
But he would pay that price. Without him, none would survive. So he would accept Calc's loyalty. He would spend these brave fighters. If they put the future of their people above their own lives, he would accept their priorities. They might not live to see it, but the nibbler nation would outlive this war.
As he trotted along, his nose and echolocation ever vigilant for signs of pursuit, his mind wandered. Periodically, Nike would bring word from Luxa, but the two might not directly interact for the remainder of the journey. If the column stopped to rest, Ripred and the bats would best be spread out to keep watch. And whenever Nike flew ahead to scout their route, even secondhand reports would be intermittent, with messages being passed up or down the line by many nibblers. Tiresome, but unavoidable.
That thought led him to reflect on Gregor, who by now had surely read the prophecy, weighed the costs, and committed to stay and fight. The boy would even now be facing the dreadful weight of those useless, idiotic predictions, that caused so much trouble and always had to be accounted for. The words of a long dead immoral madman were the eternal curse of the Underland, causing so much foolishness and irrational behavior.
It had shaped so much of how everyone treated Gregor. The lies of Sandwich caused most rats to want Gregor dead, even before he'd done anything to make him their enemy. From the moment Gregor was branded "the warrior," everyone had treated him differently. For Gregor himself, he had grown far too willing to risk his neck for people who didn't always deserve it. For Vikus, it had meant resisting Solovet's desire to have Gregor trained, as if it would somehow distance him from the prophecies and therefore keep him safe. In truth, training Gregor to defend himself and issuing him Regalia's best sword would do far more to keep him safe than subtly resisting meaningless prophecies. Hamnet might still be alive if Gregor had been more effective fighting the cutters. Solovet, meanwhile, had come to view Gregor as a vital weapon that must be controlled and wielded to maximum effect. Even now, she likely was enacting plans to ensure Gregor obeyed her. And Luxa? She had almost gotten herself killed because of those prophecies. Everyone had, in their own private ways, looked ahead to the Prophecy of Time, believing it would one day be Gregor's end. Ripred felt certain that Luxa's reckless stunt, flying across the Waterway to join the quest to hunt the Bane, had been due to that prophecy. If a boy from another world would one day die for her people, Luxa must have felt an irresistible duty to show courage matching his own. Vikus had told the truth when he told Gregor there was no shortage of volunteers to join him on that quest, for all had believed that boy needed to fulfill multiple prophecies.
And then there was the despicable faction that had argued in favor of executing Gregor for treason. They had believed that if Gregor died in such a way, it would prove he was never the warrior, and the other prophecies might not come to pass for centuries.
It all made Ripred want to scream. Every time these fools decided a prophecy was at hand, it took all his influence and wit to spin it in a way that wouldn't make things even worse. The quest to rescue Gregor's father should have been made up of an elite team of fliers and humans. But because of the prophecy, two spinners and a crawler ended up dead. The Prophecy of Bane hadn't dictated the details of who went, so Ripred had been free to sit back and let things play out, sending only Twitchtip. But the quest to seek the cure to the plague shouldn't have involved any gnawers at all. A team of doctors and soldiers on fliers could have flown directly to the vineyard, harvested Starshade, and gotten out without risk or fuss. But the idiotic prophecy had demanded gnawer involvement, there had been no way for Ripred to convince anyone otherwise, so the mission had wasted days and gotten people killed. Including Hamnet, one of the few humans for which Ripred had absolute respect, without reservation. Before that needless tragedy, Hamnet had been as enslaved by the prophecies as everyone else. As a pacifist, the man had wanted to despise Gregor as the foretold warrior, but he hadn't been able to. Knowing about the warrior's foretold death, Hamnet had softened toward Gregor sooner than he might have. So… perhaps there was a little good caused by the prophecies. Including Ripred occasionally leveraging them to convince everyone to do what he wanted.
But the harm still outweighed the good by an overwhelming margin. Hamnet might have been even friendlier to Gregor, if the warrior's foretold death hadn't made the man fear getting too attached. And Ripred anticipated a mountain of heartache when everyone demanded Boots must be key to breaking the code, which would needlessly slow the code team down.
And poor Gregor? The kid would go through an entire war expecting to die at the end, which would certainly throw off his judgment and impact his decision-making, to say nothing about weakening him due to perpetual stress. Now that he'd taken up Sandwhich's sword, Gregor would always be watched. Who knows how long it would be before Ripred could safely confide how he actually felt about the prophecies? Yesterday, when Gregor demanded that Ripred tell him what the Prophecy of Time said, Ripred had wanted so badly to tell him how he truly felt. To tell him that ancient mumbo jumbo could safely be disregarded. But with all the others there, he simply couldn't. And he would not be the one to afflict Gregor with such a horrible prediction when he knew it was all a hoax. He still felt a bit weak for failing to come up with something better to say. But if the kid had to live under an oppressive lie, it was better to delay it. And since Gregor didn't get the bad news from Ripred, he'd be more likely to take him seriously when the time came to tell Gregor the truth. Although Ripred was firmly convinced that Gregor needed some major "tough love" to get him through this war alive, he still didn't want the kid suffering. Resilience, courage, and discipline would all keep the boy strong. Hopeless depression would not.
As the hours dragged on, as the refugees trudged down dark tunnels occasionally illuminated by steaming magma vents, Ripred let his mind enter something of a trance. A technique he'd learned decades before, for preventing worries and stress from accumulating. His limbs moved on autopilot, his senses stayed alert to danger, but his conscious mind essentially entered stasis. It wasn't as good as sleep, not even close, but it still helped.
The column at last paused in a larger chamber with only three adjoining tunnels. The pups, wounded, sick, and elderly immediately collapsed, most falling asleep in seconds, and even the healthier nibblers couldn't hide their weariness. Even over the sound of the crowd, Ripred heard Luxa's distant coughing. At his orders, Aurora, Nike, and he each rested near different tunnels. They would sleep, as their stamina needed to be prioritized, but if warning was sounded one of them would be close. Ripred ensured there were enough lookouts to cover three shifts of two hours each, then he allowed himself to sleep.
His internal clock, honed by decades of war, informed him two and a half hours had passed when a whispered warning roused him. Instantly fully alert, Ripred rose and requested a report.
The elder Trig answered in a whisper. "We have been scouted. Both the tunnel behind us and the side tunnel where Princess Nike sleeps have reported subtle sounds in the distance. The enemy isn't coming too close, but it's clear they know where we are."
Nodding, Ripred sat up on his haunches, looking out across the slumbering crowd. The nibblers were so ragged, so miserable, as were his companions. It looked like Howard and Nike were awake, and odds were someone had woken poor Luxa too. That girl's health was fading fast, and he wished she could have gotten more sleep.
"Do we press on?" Trig asked. "Or do we drive off the spies?"
"No point on either count," Ripred whispered. "If we resumed the march so soon, our pace would be pitifully slow, and even then, I'd expect some of the pups and elders to die of exhaustion. And the Bane is being advised by all the best gnawer strategists and tacticians. Every scout you've detected surely has another posted a hundred yards behind them, and another behind them, and so on in a chain. If we chase one off, he'll just creep back. We won't continue the march early unless an actual attack seems imminent."
"Understood."
"For now, this changes little. Prevent the news from spreading and causing a panic. Advice my companions to get more sleep, if they can. I want swift, young nibblers with sharp senses to creep down those two tunnels, closing about half the distance to the enemy scouts. They are to avoid contact, and retreat if approached. But it's vital that the warning be sounded immediately if a large group makes a move."
Trig nodded, and crept away to spread the word. Soon, a bright-eyed young female slipped past him and crawled into the tunnel, making Ripred's heart ache. The tragic truth was that nibblers weren't just smaller and weaker than gnawers, most of them were also slower. Though lighter than rats, nibblers suffered the same challenge that human children had when racing against adults: they had a much shorter stride. They might have the advantage if running steeply uphill, but in such a wide tunnel? The young volunteer surely knew as well as he did that she likely wouldn't survive if the enemy suddenly rushed her. The best she could hope for was to sound the alarm before being overtaken. Ripred wanted to take her place, but he needed sleep. Nothing would be more disastrous than letting himself get so tired he actually lost a fight, leaving all these nibblers without a champion.
Forcing his heart to stay calm, shielding himself from the weight of risking young lives, he made himself sleep again.
Mercifully, the six hours passed in full without an enemy attack. The rats that found them first had likely been swift scouts, with strict orders not to engage unless a far larger force could be gathered. For good or ill, the enemy certainly knew that Ripred was with the refugees. This would likely mean fewer separate attacks, at least near Ripred's position, but any time the pursuers did choose to commit, it would likely be in very great strength.
The column carried on. With Nike occasionally bringing updates from the front of the group, they wove their way through the chaotic twists and turns of the elaborate tunnel network of the Firelands. Avoiding the main chambers required so many detours Ripred feared the enemy might eventually pull ahead of them, but it was still the best option. Even with numbers on their side, battle in the open would quickly become a bloodbath. And there was no knowing when numbers might stop being on their side. To prevent the nibblers from escaping, the Bane might risk pulling his whole army into the Firelands.
Again, Ripred gritted his teeth at the thought of how much harm the prophecies caused. He'd argued passionately that the Prophecy of Time didn't specifically say that it was the warrior who must kill the Bane. But he'd been ignored. He should have just put the deranged killer out of his misery and accepted the consequences… but he'd foolishly believed he still had time. If Gregor had helped him kill Pearlpelt, he could have spun it to where the gnawers blamed Gregor alone. But it would have been worth destroying his own credibility, and ruining his chances of leading his species after the war. If he'd only known. If he'd realized how far along Twirltongue's plans already were, how many Generals secretly supported the Bane, he would have made his move.
But he had delayed. He'd wanted to kill Pearlpelt without ruining his chances of future influence. And even though his influence would be vital in maintaining peace after the war, he'd still been wrong to wait. Now, for every nibbler that died in the Firelands, a small share of the blame would fall on Ripred. If he'd killed the Bane, this mad plan of genocide likely would have been averted.
He could only console himself by the simple fact that he would deserve much of the credit for every nibbler that survived.
Hours dragged on. The column's pace gradually reduced as the nibblers steadily weakened. Nike flew over, and Howard handed Ripred a strip of leather. "From Gregor's backpack," he explained. "It's only value is psychological, but chewing it might help."
Nodding, Ripred stuffed the leather in his mouth and began to chew. It was big enough to be far easier than chewing the Overlander's gum in the jungle.
By now, either Regalia had dispatched the army to rescue them, or they had decided it wasn't worth the risk. He didn't consider the latter option likely… which was good.
Because that choice would be the end of them.
If Solovet believed Gregor and Boots were all she needed to win the war… would she actually abandon Luxa out here?
No… he thought not. She could be cold, even cruel, but that would be too far. But she might send only a small squad of elites to force Luxa to return home, leaving the nibblers to die. Or she might expect Aurora to carry Luxa to safety if everything fell apart.
Again, he forced his mind to return to the thoughtless trance that shielded him from stress and useless pondering. Occasionally, he caught a whiff of gnawer from behind, and twice Nike reported hearing pattering feet. But Ripred couldn't bring himself to dispatch scouts on foot. They were unlikely to discover much more than the obvious fact that they were being followed, and it would almost certainly cost lives. His mental trance worked a bit too well, perhaps, for before he knew it it was time to rest again. This time, they stopped, not in a cavern per se, but a stretch of tunnel that was wide enough for the group to cluster together more. It was less comfortable for the sleeping crowd, but at least there wasn't a side tunnel. Ripred let himself sleep again, confident that if the rats chose to make their move, there were only two directions they could come from.
They came from both.
Aurora jerked awake to the sounds of shouted warnings. By the time Luxa struggled to her feet and awkwardly mounted up, the warnings had given way to screams.
The young nibbler Stat that sounded the alarm didn't live long enough to reach the main group. The leading elements of the gnawer assault overtook her, and she turned to die fighting instead of running.
Everyone had hoped the rats hadn't been given enough time to pull ahead of them, so the majority of the combat-worthy mice were at the rear of the formation with Ripred. Aurora could hear fighting from that direction as well, but she would focus on the fight in front of them.
Turing was already shouting orders, and a hundred nibblers formed up, spanning the width of the tunnel in a line several mice deep. Aurora respected them all, but especially those who had chosen the front rank. With so many gnawers incoming, there was no way any of those brave mice could survive. Older ones took position behind them, while parents and wounded ushered pups away from the impending fight. Aurora beat her wings, and Luxa struggled to draw her sword.
The rats smashed into the front rank of nibblers.
The only advantage the little mice had was how many could pack in side by side. The gnawer front line was less than ten rats, but they faced a line of twenty nibblers. Several of those nibblers were immediately killed by devastating bites, but the rats that struck so aggressively paid for it. They exposed their heads and necks in doing so, and the mice behind or to either side of the victims savaged their killers. The surviving gnawers recoiled at the ferocity, and fought more cautiously.
Which was exactly what the overmatched mice needed.
Aurora dived in a tight corkscrew maneuver that Ares never could have imitated. She might be slower and far smaller than the warrior's mighty bond, but none could surpass her agility. She was a perfect match for her bond in that regard, and they struck with fluid grace. While Gregor and Ares had speed and deadly power, Aurora and Luxa were a fine scalpel. Rather than try to kill outright, which was difficult for young Luxa, especially with her health failing, she focused on supporting the nibblers. Her sword slashed at ears, faces and tails, weakening many rats and giving the mice a better chance.
Despite all their efforts, the front rank died as Aurora knew they would. As they had known they would. The second rank showed the same courage as the first, and would face the same fate if the rats didn't break very soon.
Nike and Howard arrived, and Aurora relayed Luxa's instruction. Soon, Howard fought with similar tactics, weakening many rats rather than try to kill a mere few. A leaping gnawer nearly caught Nike, but a heroic nibbler sprang to intercept. The two rodents collided in midair, and the mouse was savaged before they landed. Howard drove his sword through the killer's head a moment later, though too late to save his rescuer. Aurora vowed to learn the name of that brave mouse, that had just saved two of her friends.
The battle raged, chipping away at Aurora's heart. Inevitably, the second rank of mice died. Under other circumstances, this might have broken the morale of the defenders, triggering a chaotic retreat. But with pups and elderly behind them, the third rank refused to give ground, showing the same invincible courage as those that had already fallen. More and more rats began to leap at Aurora and Nike, and soon their role had to shift. Instead of enabling their riders to wound many rats, they focused entirely on evasion, distracting and occupying gnawers that might otherwise have overwhelmed the mice. A rat that nearly caught Aurora's wing lost a paw to Luxa's counterattack.
And then, in the space between two heartbeats… it was over.
With so many mice clearly prepared to fight to the death, the gnawers broke and retreated down the tunnel. Most of the nibbler third rank still lived, but fully half of Luxa's vanguard had already died. The young fighters had taken the full brunt of the attack, and Aurora had to exert her will not to give in to mourning, for her part was not yet done. She and Nike whirled, racing over the column, heading toward the rear, ready to keep up the fight. Luxa panted audibly, and her voice was an alarming rasp. The girl quivered, nearing exhaustion, and Aurora feared her bond might drop her sword.
But when they reached the rear, the fighting was already over.
The rearguard was far more numerous than the vanguard, and Ripred was a brigade unto himself. Gregor had stunned her with his lethality when fighting the twisters in the jungle, and Ripred was the boy's superior in nearly every category.
Only a dozen nibblers lay dead here, with four times their number of dead rats scattered about. Bloody ash ran off Ripred's filthy fur, and he sniffed at a small nibbler to see if she was still alive.
Luxa wiped most of the blood from her sword onto her filthy shirt, then she sheathed it… and lay forward without a word. Her breathing still came in ragged gasps, but not as bad as while they were fighting. Aurora chose, not to worry unduly, but to be proud of her bond. Howard had earlier spoken with Luxa, using both logic and passion to convince her of her own vital importance. Nike and Aurora had joined in, and together they had, barely, extracted a promise from her. She would give greater priority to her own health and safety, though she insisted on still fighting. While Ripred was by far the greatest fighter here, it was Luxa who was the symbol of hope. The nibblers looked to her, and she must not fall, for it would break them. That argument had been more effective than trying to make her look farther ahead, to how much she would matter as Queen after the war.
Now that the immediate fight was over, Aurora felt only relief that Luxa was getting some rest.
Arriving again at the front of the column, Aurora landed and took in the aftermath of the fight. Hundreds of nibblers had gathered, grieving for the mice that had died to blunt the enemy attack. Luxa slid off her back and dropped to her knees. They knew so many of these faces from their months in the jungle. They would have died without the nibblers taking them in. Aurora saw young Symmetry gasp out her final moments. She had frequently slept at Aurora's side to comfort her when the pain of her wing had been harshest.
Making her way awkwardly through the grieving crowd, Aurora found Howard and Nike already at the side of the mouse that had died saving them.
The elder Turing was there too, his expression utterly desolate. "My daughter's youngest, Octal," he whispered. "He said goodbye to me earlier. I told him not to talk nonsense."
"A princess of the fliers and our only doctor are alive because of him," Aurora said softly. "I thank you for teaching him well."
Turing nodded, then he rose, making his way through the crowd to console others.
"More than sixty lost in the first gnawer raid," Nike squeaked in the flier language, hoping few of the nibblers could understand. "Unless the ferocity of the defense has daunted them, we can expect the next attack to be even worse."
Luxa flinched, and Aurora realized Hazard must have taught her more than anyone realized. The few words audible to human ears must be part of Luxa's limited flier vocabulary.
"We need to have another quick word in private," Howard whispered.
"More private than you think," Aurora said. "Last time, I spoke the least. This time, it is my turn." She brushed up against Luxa, who reluctantly left the grieving nibblers and mounted up. Aurora flew to a small ledge high on the wall, as it wouldn't be safe to seek true privacy farther down the dangerous tunnel.
Before the flier could speak, Luxa's words gushed out, quiet but full of anguish. "They fought at my command. They died at my command. I declared war. Thousands will die… because of me."
Aurora slowly rolled over, until she hugged Luxa close. "No. Not because of you. They may die for you. But that is very different."
"My heart cannot feel the difference." A fit of wet coughing took Luxa, and Aurora patiently waited until her bond recovered.
"You declared war… because the Bane killed the innocent. And what we have seen since has proven you were right. If nibblers die at your command, if fliers and humans die under your command… it is not because you undervalue them. They fight for the cause you championed. The nibblers that died, those that yet will die… it is for their own friends and families."
"And when the war reaches Regalia?" Luxa asked, her ragged voice so sorrowful it made Aurora wince.
"Any fliers or humans that die in the war, it was not due to some childish whim on your part. They will fall to prevent nibbler extinction. And if battle reaches your city's walls, those that fall will be defending their homes. Your burden is the greatest of everyone's, but–"
"No," Luxa said flatly. "By now, Gregor has the greatest burden. Of everyone who fights this war, he alone knows his death is certain."
"Luxa… that is false. Your burden is greater."
The girl pulled away from the embrace, looking on Aurora with confusion. Luxa's eyes were bloodshot, with weariness, ash sickness, and pain of heart beating upon her. "How?"
"Gregor will bravely face his end, like the many nibblers that just died, and the thousands yet to fall in battle. And then he will rest, having proven his worth and his love. But you… you must live. And you must rule. You must not carry guilt for those who die at your command, though you will always feel responsible. You will honor their memory by ushering in the future they did not live to see. You will forever carry the weight of their lives. And we all know you are strong enough to bear it."
A long silence, finally broken by a whisper so soft only a flier could have heard it. "Even… Gregor's life?"
"Yes," Aurora said without hesitation. Only when alone with her bond did she speak so openly and so much, and her heart overflowed in her words. "Gregor will march to his end because he loves the Underland, and because he will not abandon those in need. Like the multitude that will fall in this war, his life will buy the future. Nations will survive by the courage of many noble souls. They give their strength, their hearts, their loyalty to you. That is their freedom, to choose what is more precious than their own lives. But you are bound by duty, and you do not have the same freedom. Your crown demands that you live. You must not die with them, for it is not your right. Instead, to repay those who give all they have, your role is to spend their lives well. To direct their strength wisely. To lose as few as possible, while ensuring their blood buys victory. And then, the labor of your life will be to help those who remain to move forward and rebuild."
"I... I do not want to let them all die... I do not want to be safe and whole if so many others are not."
"I know. And yet... you must. It is the ultimate form of service for one such as you. When we are at last back home in Regalia, your daily mantra... must end. The first time you wake up in the palace, you will not tell yourself that day will be your last. From that moment on, every morning when you wake, you must tell yourself, 'Today, I will remember the fallen, and work toward the future they died for.'"
Luxa hugged her close again, and her slender body quivered from more than physical ailments. Her pain was so great. And it would grow greater with every life lost.
But the young Queen must endure. She must accept what her subjects and her allies were willing to give. Her heart might crack, and bleed, but it must not break. When Aurora accepted Luxa as her bond, she had known the responsibility she would face. The day may come when she had to disobey Luxa, disregard her wishes, and bear her to safety, even if Luxa wept and screamed and begged to fight. Aurora would allow Luxa to take risks… but only to a point. She would keep Luxa alive, that beyond the dark and flame and war and strife… the future may be bright.