Chapter 7 - The Burden of Command
Newton the nibbler pup scurried down the shadowy tunnel. Weariness, hunger, and thirst all made him want to give up, but he needed to find his family. Mother, Father, and his five siblings were with him back when everyone first escaped the gnawer pen. He thought they had been together for some time after that… but he couldn't really remember anymore. He tried very hard to picture what happened yesterday… but his memory seemed totally blank. It must have been very boring, full of tedious, tiring marching. He was old enough to walk on his own, but his little legs had to move really quick to keep pace with grownups.
And right now, he didn't want to.
Light and sound reached him from up ahead. Firelight, screams, begging, snarls, and weeping. Armored bodies hitting stone. Swords striking claws or teeth.
He did not want to go there.
"Speed up!" Turing shouted. "The longer it takes for us to get to the next tunnel, the more humans will die for us! They are spending their blood so we can survive! Hurry everyone! Right now, we have the power to save lives, if we can just go faster!"
The kind old mouse Trig came up alongside him. The closest thing nibblers had to a doctor, he took special care of the pups. His tail gave Newton a gentle bop on the rump. "You must hurry, little one. Please. Just a little further. Run as fast as you have ever run. Good people are getting hurt. You can help them."
Heart pounding, little Newton sped up.
The torchlight drew closer. The screams grew louder. The smell of blood, which he hadn't known before this awful journey in this awful place, was very strong.
"Almost there," Trig said. Then he picked up a slower pup by the scruff of the neck, tail-bapped Newton's rump one more time, and sped up.
Panting, Newton bolted forward, and reached the illuminated chamber.
Death. Pain. Fear.
Humans on foot, standing against monsters. Many fell. None ran away.
The humans were giants compared to the mouse pup... but the rats still made them look frail.
For just a moment, Newton froze up, stricken by the sight.
So many humans lay in the muddy ash. Many were still. But many weren't. Some cried. Some shook. Some vomited red. A pretty young woman had no arms, and she screamed as rats dragged her away by the leg.
A skinny young man collapsed right next to Newton. His light armor was breached, he had deep gashes across his body, and there was so much blood. His face twisted in agony, he fought to breathe, and his body quivered. A stronger man and a young woman who closely resembled him stood protectively between the boy and the rats that had hurt him.
Behind Newton, the other nibblers continued to dash by, racing down the side of the chamber, as humans stood and fought and died for them.
The boy opened his eyes, and saw Newton close to his face. For just a moment, he recoiled. But on seeing Newton wasn't a rat, but a mouse pup, the boy forced himself to smile. His lips and teeth were bloody, and he could barely breathe, but he managed to whisper, "Run, little one. We all want you… to live…"
Behind him, Hypatia shouted, "Faster everyone! Faster! Our protectors pay for every second we take! Move move move!"
The boy's struggles slowed, and Newton gently touched his nose to his forehead.
Then the pup ran.
His legs were very short, but he was also very, very light. His run shifted into a series of leaping bounds, and he dashed behind the human line, a tiny black blur.
More humans died during the brief time it took for him to reach the next tunnel. More bled and screamed and begged for help, but none of them broke formation. He didn't know how they were all so brave. But he wanted to thank them. He saw a human child with unusual coloring fighting alongside Ripred, cutting down rats. He marveled at the sight, but he couldn't stop to watch.
Maybe one day, he could be as brave as all these humans.
But today, his job… was to run.
Rendwelt dodged to the side and backed off, probing the human line. So many of the soft, skinny things had already died. The gnawers kept killing, killing, killing the frail soldiers, but more just kept coming. Very few humans were still safe on their bats, and even these would likely join the dying line soon.
Rendwelt licked her lips, savoring the taste of human. Earlier, Cleaver had grabbed a young man with his tail, yanking him into the crowd, and Rendwelt had been one of many to seize the chance for a satisfying bite. Three other humans very similar to that one had fought side by side until recently, when Gutpulp mangled the youngest boy's chest. That one had fought on for a time before collapsing, but he lay a bit behind the line, denying Rendwelt a chance for a bite. She made a quick swipe at a young woman standing over him, but this soldier was very fast, and Rendwelt barely avoided losing a paw.
She hated swords. They were so irritating to deal with, and without them humans would be helpless. Even the young woman's muscular brother weighed less than half as much as Rendwelt, and she wasn't an especially large gnawer. If they fought fair, ten humans would be easy meat for a rat. But swords were just so dangerous. Their entire length could bite you, and many even had a second edge. They were far longer than gnawer claws, or even teeth. If a gnawer didn't want pain and bloody wounds, they had to fight far too carefully. An aggressive rushdown could easily destroy a human, but there would be so much risk of a slashed face, or worse. Even quick attacks with claws could so easily result in a maimed paw. And blocking a sword usually required excellent timing, because you had to slap the thing aside by the flat of the blade.
If she ever had an opportunity to face a gaggle of unarmed humans, it would be a delight. So much meat, so easily killed. Too slow to run, too weak to hurt her with mere fists, and without even fur to protect them. Not enough muscle to keep claws from reaching organs, and with bones that snap in gnawer jaws. She could slaughter a room full of them and then take her time feasting.
But imagining such a happy scenario wouldn't help her right now.
Backing off for a moment, Rendwelt let others have a go. She trotted in the direction the mice were running, getting a bit closer to where the enemy champions fought, but careful not to push her luck. She couldn't actually see Ripred or the warrior, though for different reasons. A continuous tornado of ash revealed Ripred's location but blocked the view. And the heap of dead rats surrounding the enemy champions had piled so high, the warrior couldn't be seen. A dozen gnawers clambered up the corpse wall, and four of them immediately tumbled back down, their throats gashed.
If the Bane himself ordered me to go over that wall, I'd refuse…
"The nibblers are in! The nibblers are in!"
Rendwelt turned from the ashy whirlwind and saw it was true. The last of the mice had entered the tunnel. The human line began to contract, with those defending the other tunnel steadily repositioning. They weren't retreating yet, since they knew rats could outrun those refugees, but they now needed to defend a much smaller area. Every second, the humans would get harder to kill, as they'd close ranks, deepen their line, and support each other more effectively. One more reason to hate swords. They gave humans the ability to reach over others and land deadly stabs. When fighting many ranks deep, gnawers could only assist the front line with their tails.
If I want to get a taste of that other human's relatives, there's not much time left. Sooner or later they'll mount up and retreat.
She dashed back toward the spot where the two young humans stood over their smaller brother. Sure enough. The youngest now lay still. As Rendwelt watched, the last of the brothers died too. Slicksip knocked aside two swords and chomped into the young man's body. She turned and bounded away from the line with the doomed soldier bouncing in her grip. Rendwelt dashed after them, eager for a taste. The soldier flailed, trying to fight back, and even landed a shallow gash on a passing rat. But then Rendwelt sank her teeth deep into his side and pulled away several pounds of flesh. Many other gnawers did the same, and soon little remained that was recognizably human.
Chewing contentedly, Rendwelt savored the texture. The young man had been an excellent specimen, well trained and youthful, with fresh skin, dense muscle, and healthy entrails. She wished she didn't need to share the meal with so many others.
But at least there was more of that family waiting to be harvested. Rendwelt turned back toward the wailing voice. The young woman now fought with a desperate mix of grief and fury, tears moistening her mask. Rendwelt would love to finish her off, but with the human line continuing to tighten, she feared all the swords to either side.
An errant breeze caught Rendwelt's attention barely in time to save her life. She instinctively dashed to the side, and an instant later a rat crashed to the ground. Rendwelt turned, heart pounding, and looked upon Bounder, who struggled and thrashed, but couldn't move the rear half of his body. Senses heightened by fear, Rendwelt dodged to the side a second time, barely avoiding a diving attack from a vast black bat. The warrior's bond was unshaken by her evasion, and instead sank his claws into Slicksip. Beating his powerful wings, Ares hauled the huge rat into the air.
This shouldn't be possible. Without human riders, fliers should be helpless against us, able only to flee. But for some time now, Ares had inspired the largest fliers to use the high ceiling of the chambers to allow such tactics. Poseidon, a high-ranking bat, dropped a small rat to his screaming death very close to Rendwelt. With the nibblers out of sight down the exit tunnel, the fliers were growing more desperate. For them to lose their bonds now, with their escape so close, would be agony for them.
Rendwelt needed to afflict that agony. This was only the first major battle of the war. Destroying enemy morale would make future battles less costly.
And gnawers were very good at damaging morale. To most humans, a gnawer was the stuff of nightmares.
The young woman that she really wanted to kill was too skilled, but an older woman next to her had a wounded swordarm. Dashing in, Rendwelt rolled to the side at the last moment, slapped the flat of the wounded woman's sword, and wrapped her tail around her neck. Pulling her close, Rendwelt bit off the woman's hand, drove claws into her neck, then kicked her aside. Eager to see a reaction, she backed away from the fighting and turned to focus on the bats. It was hard to be sure, with so many wheeling fliers already grieving, but she thought she noticed a squealing brown bat looking right at the dying woman. It was so satisfying, she looked again upon her true target. The younger woman who had lost three relatives already. Was it worth the risk of attacking one so skilled? If she got away, it would leave Rendwelt feeling... incomplete.
Poseidon called out the order to retreat. Bats began dashing in, scooping up the surviving humans. With the low ledge, the maneuver was very risky, and Rendwelt managed to gut a small gray flier that swooped in low. Frustratingly, the flier's bond was immediately rescued by a different bat that had likely lost its own human.
Rendwelt had very little time left if she wanted to kill the grieving young woman.
Thankfully, she wouldn't have to risk it. Crushquick had similar thoughts, but no caution.
The huge rat came in low, driving the claws of his hind legs into the young woman's chest. Rendwelt would have preferred making the kill herself, but there was still entertainment value to be had. A flier diving to rescue the woman must have lost all will to live, deliberately crashing into Crushquick and attacking him with no thought for her own safety. Incredibly, the bat managed to claw open an artery in Crushquick's neck, and didn't even react when his death throes broke her wing.
Hesitating, Rendwelt pondered what would be more cruel. Part of her wanted to finish off the wounded bat… but her grief was so extreme, her hopelessness so delicious…
She would rather this flier live on for a while, letting her stew in grief. Weakening the hearts of all around her.
Rendwelt got her wish. Several other bats worked together to lift up the grieving thing and carry her to safety. She would have to die eventually, but it was nice to imagine her wailing in the hospital for a few days before that.
Most of the humans and fliers had now fled the chamber, with only a few elites remaining to guard the tunnel. Even the weakest of those champions could likely kill Rendwelt with ease, so she left it to the less cautious gnawers. Furtively checking her surroundings, ensuring that General Flayer and Commander Nipswift had their attention elsewhere, Rendwelt slunk over to where the human siblings died. The skinny young man and his elite older sister lay silent and still in the blood and ash.
Smiling, Rendwelt began to feed.
York roared again and again, letting his pain, loss, guilt, and rage overflow with every strike. His typical stoic silence in the face of battle was long gone. Not even in Gorger's war had so many soldiers died under York's command, and his drive to avenge them burned bright. His claymore split a gnawer skull, and a follow-up slash took off the forelimb of another. Standing to his right, Marian finished the rat off. With only six defenders remaining to hold back the rat army, every gnawer in sight pressed in on them. For the tenth time in as many minutes, York saved the woman's life, driving his massive sword into a rat that had broken her guard.
Then Poseidon and Uranus dived in, snatching Marian and Lenwen to carry them to safety.
Now, only four defenders remained.
Gradually, the champions gave ground. Perdita held the left, York the right, with the two ragers battling side by side. York marveled at the skill, strength, and especially the courage of the young warrior. He might be very tall and hard for his age, but to York's eyes the boy was small and frail. But Gregor stood against rats that outweighed him five to one, and he didn't even flinch in the face of their murderous hatred.
No torches were allowed in the escape tunnel, so the light faded as they backed away from the chamber where so many had died. The Overlander had one of his wondrous glowing devices, which likely was enough for Perdita, but soon York struggled to see.
"Retreat!" Ripred ordered, during a brief moment when his mouth wasn't full of gnawer flesh. "It's too dark for you!"
York let out a series of curses, his mind flooding with images of brave soldiers that had obeyed his orders and died for it. He wasn't going to run just because he couldn't see. In the tight confines of the cave, he lunged repeatedly, stabbing into the packed gnawers. Attacks that slipped past his guard did little, as he had the strength to wear far heavier armor than most soldiers could bear. Even so, he couldn't keep this up forever. Sooner or later, a large, frenzied rat would get past the two ragers and tackle York in the darkness. He was one of very few humans that could match the strength of an average gnawer, but they still outweighed him.
"Hey!" Gregor called. "You on the end!"
Too caught up in the work of avenging hundreds of his colleagues, York didn't make the connection.
"York!" Gregor shouted.
That did it. York spared a moment to look in the Overlander's direction just as he tossed another glowing device his way. He caught it, and he did have the strength to wield his claymore one-handed, but it would greatly reduce his skill and power.
"In your teeth!" Gregor shouted.
Ah… a much better plan. York tore off his mask, held the marvelous little light in his mouth, and now he could see well enough to fight properly. Instead of stabbing blindly into the darkness, he could accurately hack at the foe. So many had bloody teeth, yet another reminder of just how many loyal soldiers had died under York's command in the last half hour. With the light in his teeth, York couldn't vent his rage with full throated bellows, but he could still grunt and hiss and mumble curses. The young Overlander probably didn't know the meaning of most of those words, so he felt no shame speaking thus in front of a child. And since that child was engaged in the business of slaughter, mere words had little relevance.
But only because the boy's mother didn't know. From his few interactions with Grace, York shuddered to imagine her response if he cursed in her son's presence...
The next gnawer had obvious plague scars marring its face, where much fur was missing. The sight brought York back to the miserable days when Howard suffered from that malady, when eighty of York's citizens had died. Deep down, York's heart longed for peace, gentle quiet, and days with family. The first sight of what the plague did to people had caused him to faint on the spot. To this day, his dear Howard was a shadow of his former self. A decade of intense, painful, determined physical training had been undone in such a short time. The boy had been on course for earning strength few others could match... but it was gone now. And Howard never complained, knowing he was lucky just to be alive.
The knowledge that it was Regalia that developed that plague still ate at him…
But that didn't mean this rat deserved mercy. Yes, a human weapon had disfigured it… but it had come to the Firelands to slaughter nibblers. Those two causes had nothing to do with each other, and York would not excuse one monstrous goal simply because others had their own monstrous goals. One sin did not excuse another. The handful of humans that ordered the plague's development didn't justify what these rats planned.
And even if it did, York wouldn't let his surviving soldiers die simply because these rats had cause for anger. Human deaths wouldn't help the plague victims. But their survival might buy peace.
The gnawer lunged, and York's sword crashed down, splitting its head and making its scars forever irrelevant.
The four champions battled on, a slow fighting retreat that littered the tunnel with dead rats. The last of the cavern light was left behind, but the device between his teeth let him keep chopping up rats. Horatio and Marcus could fight longer than York, but even they couldn't kill rats as quickly as he. His height and reach exceeded theirs, letting him strike from an even greater distance and thus with greater aggression, and it made chopping downward even deadlier. Reach mattered more than strength when it came to swordplay, which made young Gregor's height even more important than his overpowered little muscles. But if you wanted to split a rat, not merely cut it, extreme strength had its uses.
He tired though. He'd long since lost count of how many rats he'd killed. Likely as many as Perdita, though less than Gregor, and far less than Ripred. But he began to feel it in his bones. He'd killed and killed and killed, and against an army bent on genocide he would willingly continue for hours. But even his great strength was waning. Splitting bone took a lot of power, and although he had that power, the weariness was building. His heaving breaths sucked ash into his lungs, and he thought of the young Queen who had inhaled this vile air for days. Of the four fighters, York's combat style was the least efficient by far. He drove his sword through three feet of gnawer flesh, and he felt his stamina failing…
Then Gregor yelped. A moment later, there was a splash. The boy had fallen in a pool of liquid, and York's feet now plunged into it. Too thick for water, and with a rich smell, York suspected they'd found the oil that was so vital to Luxa's plan.
"Run!" Ripred shouted. "All of you!" He lunged forward and began to spin. The rat had fought so hard since before York's army even found him, so he likely couldn't maintain that high-energy attack for long. They mustn't waste time in escaping, or Ripred's stamina might give out defending them.
Without hesitation, York and Perdita turned and ran. The lighter Perdita soon outpaced the weary York, and Gregor followed close behind. The boy struggled in the oil, but York's greater height made wading the dark pool easier. He briefly considered carrying Gregor, but the little warrior didn't need his help. Up ahead, he saw torchlight from a larger cavern, and he hoped these were far from the refugees, who were surely drenched in oil. Soon, he cleared the liquid and accelerated to a cautious jog. All the nibblers had trailed oil everywhere, and it wouldn't do to slip. He spared a moment to look back, shining his light behind him. Gregor escaped the pool and began to run, and Ripred ended his spin to race after them.
Beginning to suspect the next stage of Luxa's plan, York prayed they would all clear the danger zone in time.
Lenwen fought back tears as he scanned the crowd yet again. He had known fighting on the ground would cost many lives, and with all four of his children in that fight he'd forced his thoughts to dwell on only his own small part of the battle. But now that part was done. Uranus had evacuated him down the tunnel, over a stream, and to the side of Queen Luxa. If the plan worked, he wouldn't have to fight anymore this day.
So all he could do was fret.
His eyes went from one masked face to the next, growing more frantic. It wasn't just one of his children he couldn't find… it was all of them.
Then he heard Gaia wailing in unrestrained grief. Riven's bond lay weeping, utterly broken. Not far from her, Crius, Epimetheus, and Rhea huddled for comfort. Purest sorrow was plain on their faces, even with their masks.
Lenwen's heart went cold. His body went numb. He barely even heard the words when Uranus mournfully reported what was already plain.
All four of his children… gone on the same day.
They all held the line… and died along with so many others.
All the veteran had left of his family was his wife Neria and his nephew Marcus. As a member of the council, he could only hope Neria would never have to see battle. And Marcus was one of Regalia's best fighters, having driven himself mercilessly ever since losing his parents as a boy. Lenwen might never recover from the fourfold hammer blow of agony dealt him today. He couldn't bear the thought of any more loss.
Many nibblers still struggled to cross the river, but there were many fliers to help them. For the moment, Lenwen couldn't move. He could barely blink. Twenty years as a proud father… and today it ended in blood.
Luxa burst into another fit of wet coughing. Heart numb, movements awkward, Lenwen gave attention to his Queen. "Relax, Your Highness. Focus on breathing. We have made your will reality. Not a single nibbler died in the fighting." No… but hundreds of humans did… including my beloved sons… and my precious daughter…
Luxa nodded, gasping, and seemed to pull it together.
Marian and Poseidon circled overhead, along with two other bonded pairs. Marian had sheathed her short swords and readied one of the few bows in the Underland. The three stayed over the water to prevent any accidents. They all had flaming arrows at the ready, and it would be disastrous to light all the oil too soon.
York and Perdita climbed out of the river, closely followed by Gregor. All three had helped nibbler pups struggling to swim, and fliers rescued the last of the mice.
Perdita's bond, Aether, shouted, "Shall I give the signal, Your Highness?"
Like Lenwen, Aether must be so stricken by all the loss that she'd forgotten there was still one ally fighting.
But the Queen hadn't. "Not yet," she said in a hoarse whisper.
Howling rat voices began to echo from the tunnel, drawing closer.
"Now, Your Highness?" Aether asked again.
"Just give him a few more moments… There!"
Barely recognizable from all the oil, Ripred bounded out of the tunnel. Lenwen knew he should feel tension, fear that the rats might reach them, or that the plan might fail. But his torn, overwhelmed heart couldn't muster any reaction. Vital, life-and-death matters were afoot, but his mind couldn't engage with it.
"Wait for them," the Queen whispered. "Wait for them…"
The rat vanguard came into view in the tunnel, almost to the chamber.
"Now."
Lenwen didn't hear Aether's squeak, but the three archers fired.
Commander Nipswift tail-lashed a gnawer that didn't seem to hear her words. "Stop stuffing your face! The battle isn't over yet!"
The rat spun, clearly annoyed, with a pale hand dangling from her mouth. For just a moment, Nipswift feared the frenzy of feeding might lead to full-blown insubordination.
But then General Flayer strode over. "Our enemies are through that tunnel! All of you, follow the rest! We can all feed after the battle is–"
His words cut off when a blast of heat and light burst from the tunnel mouth. Flaming bodies and shrieking survivors spewed forth, and Nipswift's eyes widened in disbelief and horror. Relief and shame both flooded through her. If she had accompanied the vanguard instead of leading from the rear, she might have died in that conflagration. But then again, she might have realized the danger and saved her forces from this disaster. Easily two hundred rats had been in that tunnel, and a fire that devastating had likely extinguished all life in both directions. So the enemy had a decisive plan for cutting off pursuit… The nibbler escapees will reach Regalia after all…
General Flayer howled in frustration and rage. After days of pursuit, multiple ambushes, and a prolonged battle, his prey had escaped. It would be his responsibility to explain this to the Bane.
Nipswift strode over to his side, determined to snap him out of his misery. She had no love for the boorish General, but if he faltered, the entire war effort might suffer. "This may look like a defeat… but it is not. Not at a strategic level."
Gnashing his teeth, Flayer spun on her. "What idiocy is this? The nibbler nation survives, we failed to kill the girl Queen, I won't for one second believe that Ripred was caught in that blast, and we just lost more than–"
"Irrelevant," she said, shocking him into silence. "Those nibblers will take days and hundreds of bats to evacuate to Regalia. It will tax their resources and reserves. The truth of our intentions already got out, so the time for secrecy has passed. When we break Regalia's defenses, when we slaughter the humans, the nibblers will die too. Their escape is temporary: they're fleeing to a place already slated for destruction. Once the diggers make their move, the city cannot hold."
"But… our losses…"
"Even with that dirty trick at the end, annihilating our forward battalions, the previous stage of the battle makes up for it."
She turned, looking over the heaped corpses of human soldiers. "We slaughtered them, more than a division's worth of troops, and that means a division's worth of bats are now in mourning, having lost their bonds. We suffered losses, but theirs matter more." She turned, locking eyes with Flayer, whose dismay was beginning to settle into grim resolve. "We outnumber humanity in the Underland. If we continue trading lives at the rate we did today, the humans will run out before we do. And the numbers are even more one-sided when you remember that all adult gnawers can fight, but the majority of Regalia's population are helpless civilians."
Flayer slowly took in his surroundings, looking first at the flaming rat carcasses, then at the savaged and dismembered remains of humans. At last, he nodded, and smiled. "At this rate… the only possible outcome… is victory."
"Whose idea was this?"
Luxa barely had the energy to turn her head, and her voice was too raw to answer Ripred anyway. She allowed Lenwen to answer, though he sounded as numb as she. "Queen Luxa's."
Ripred trotted over, getting in Luxa's line of sight just so he could glare at her. She didn't have the energy to care. His scorn was freely given to all, so she need not acknowledge it.
But then he surprised her with a respectful nod. "Good plan."
Luxa tried to answer, as praise from Ripred was far too rare to ignore. But another fit of violent coughing took her. When she pulled her hand away, it was covered in blood… despite the mass she wore. There was so much, it had soaked completely through…
For a moment, the dizziness and weakness overcame her. She might be agile, athletic, and skilled, but her twelve-year-old body had suffered too much for too long. It was hard to imagine her lungs would ever recover from the deadly environment that had killed little Thalia. She slid to one side, no longer able to even lean against a stone, and for a moment her world went black.
"Luxa? Luxa?"
It was Gregor, he was scared, but she was too weak to respond. The Overlander propped her head on his lap, and Head Doctor Twillen tore away her soaked mask and poured strong medication down her throat. It burned, terribly, but it also helped her to breathe. Twillen's presence here, so close to a recent battlefield, proved that Solovet did care about her granddaughter. It had been a decade since the royal physician had been risked beyond Regalia's walls.
"Look at her!" That deep, powerful voice could only be York. "She should have been sent home days ago!"
"We could not make her go."
If Luxa hadn't spent the last several days with Howard, she wouldn't have recognized his faint, raspy voice. He wasn't in much better condition than she. Another fit of coughing racked her body. Gregor clutched her close, and Twillen rubbed a harsh cream onto her upper lip, so that she inhaled a bitter fragrance with every breath. Thick sludge flowed from her nose.
"You are still here as well?" York demanded. Despite her dizziness and suffering, Luxa recognized the concern in the father's voice, all but hidden beneath the exasperation.
"I was needed. So many wounded, Father…"
"You are no help like that. The pair of you! To Regalia! Now!"
For a moment, Luxa drifted out of reality again, but she came to as York lifted her.
"It would be best if she could remain sitting up," Doctor Twillen said. "Easier for her to breathe."
York set Luxa on Ares' back, right in front of Gregor. "Can you keep her upright?"
The Overlander hugged her close, firm, strong, warm, and gentle. "Yeah. I can do it." Luxa saw a nasty gash on his leg, but he didn't seem to care. Then he pulled her back so her head rested on his shoulder. Even with her body failing, with all strength gone, she felt safe in his arms. His strength was enough for both of them.
More words were exchanged, but Luxa couldn't follow them. She kept going in and out of reality. She caught a glimpse of Lenwen, sitting in silence, his bond trying and failing to comfort him.
When Howard climbed up onto Ares behind Gregor, a thought forced her more awake. "Aurora…" Luxa struggled, but only briefly. She couldn't so much as budge Gregor's arms, despite the gentleness of his grip.
"On my own flier, niece." York ran his fingers through her filthy hair, clearing away some of the ash. "She will be right behind you."
That was good. York's bond Chthonius was nearly as strong as Ares, so he should be able to carry Aurora. "Ripred?" she whispered.
In a heartbeat, the rat arrived. "Right here." It was difficult to detect, but there was a hint of concern in the rager's voice.
"The nibblers… If I die…"
"You? Die?" The concern was gone, replaced by his usual cocky flippancy. "You're too mean to die."
Despite everything, Luxa managed to smile… but it was for her old self. The untested girl whose "meanness" merely meant stubborn arrogance or slapping an Overland boy who caused trouble.
Now… she got people killed.
And she'd do it again, were the circumstances the same.
Luxa's smile faded. And Ripred took it the wrong way. "Don't worry, Your Highness. I'll look after them."
She nodded. Ripred might not always be fully trustworthy, but this wasn't the sort of promise he'd break.
Ripred gave Ares a nudge. "Fly you high… and fast."
Ares took to the air, mighty wings pumping, propelling them forward with reckless speed. Luxa's thoughts strayed and flowed, with a continuous stream of faces parading before her mind's eye.
Broken bodies of mice, lying still at the base of the cliff, with only Cartesian still breathing.
Nibbler families in the pit by the Queen, struggling, gasping, and dying, with only seven escaping the gas in time.
Precious Hazard weeping unconsolably over the lifeless Thalia.
More nibblers dead in a different pit, with no sign that any had survived.
Two dead in the brief struggle to rescue Trig's group.
Dozens of young fighters killed as a direct and immediate result of Luxa calling for them to rise up.
Hundreds more dying on the long road through the tunnels, with the rats always in pursuit. An entire generation of young mice lost, obeying her orders.
The many pups she failed to protect, nearly a third of the tiny innocent creatures, despite Luxa spending so many other lives on their behalf.
And today… hundreds of humans, obeying her command to defend the nibblers… at all costs. For their loyalty to her, and to defend the innocent, they had stood and fought and bled and died. She was so proud of them… and she mourned for them. But she could not regret her choice.
So many bats were now bereaved. It was rare for one bond to die and the other survive, as they nearly always fought as one. But by Luxa's command, hundreds of bats had not been allowed to fight with their bonds. By requiring them to fight separately, she had broken their oaths... but they would blame themselves.
She had spoken. They had obeyed.
Their bonds had died. They lived on.
And so did Luxa.
Howard's words, and Nike's, and most of all Aurora's had at last sunk in. Today, Luxa had taken a burden upon her heart that exceeded even the loss of her parents.
Even more painful than Henry's betrayal.
She had told people… to die… and they had. They fought for her. They bled. They were gone now. Hundreds of lives ended. Thousands of others would suffer from the loss for years, even decades. The Queen had spoken in the fullness of her power. Death had followed.
And she must… live… on.
Her grim orders, and the heartrending costs… had been… right. They had all done what ought to be done. What justice, and decency, and compassion, had demanded. And Luxa's duty… was to survive. She could not have saved the nibblers by her own strength. It had been achieved by the blood of many.
And she must remember. She must endure. She must heal her body, and to the extent possible her heart, so that she might return to her duties. The war had only just begun.
She must live… that she might order still more to die.
That she might send… Gregor… to die.
The dear boy sitting behind her was so clearly afraid, but for her alone. He had not fled the Underland after reading the prophecy. He had come all the way out here, fought a great battle, and suffered injury… for her. In his warm embrace, she felt safe… but she couldn't stop herself from thinking ahead.
He would not be warm forever. By the end of this war… which she had declared… he would lie cold and silent.
Today, she had spent hundreds of lives.
In the days to come… she would spend hundreds more.
Aurora was right.
Although thousands would face toil, fear, suffering, and death in the coming days…
Luxa's burden… was the heaviest of all.