Book 5, Chapter 52: Memorials
The guards, of course, let me pass and would inform the nobles I’d left. More must have been watching, from the walls of the castle, the towers, too, likely tired as it was the middle of the night.
“Sleipnir!” I called out and he came. Each of his eight legs stamping out the ground toward me, and a twinkle in his eyes. The large horse came close and I rubbed his head. “Did you meet some new mares?”
He neighed and stamped playfully.
“Will you carry me yet more distance? I must see to the dead and then I have business with those who’d steal the divine power.”
I heard not a few gasps as Sleipnir leapt into the air and carried us on the winds toward the Battle for Breadamont and past the field where I awoke on this planet. On the way, I scratched his neck and combed his mane and inquired as to the news of my former and sometimes home. If my fellows there were worried about me, they did not speak of it openly or to Sleipnir. Likely, though, they were not troubled by my disappearance. And, anyways, I was not troubled by their indifference, not anymore, nor likely ever again.
Thinking of my fellows brought Anansi to mind. There were now two deities on this land. I shook my head in wonder. He’d somehow communicated to his beloved creatures, his spiders, while inside the trap. Had to be his webs. They must somehow breach the dimensional trap. Webs everywhere, that guy, and you never know when you’re touching them. He had to be aware that I’d escaped, too.
But I didn’t see him as a threat. That’s the problem with spiders, though, their prey never sees them as a threat until they’re tying them up for dinner. Yet, he’d said we were friends before. And we only made it through the prison by relying on each other, arm in arm. I couldn’t help but feel he and I would get along here. Maybe even hang out. At the least, stay out of each other’s way. If I survive, I might just have to ban the eating of spiders.
Or, thinking about how he left me in that prison getting eaten, promote spiders as a food source. Even the little ones! Trickster deities. You never quite know how it’ll go with them.
When we’d come to the field, I dismounted, bid Sleipnir to wait. The circles of death remained largely without life. New grass pushed in from the edges, but nothing yet grew in the blackened circle Etienne had made, trading life for brief power.
I crouched down where he lay restless, touched my hand to the ground and called him forth. We spoke for a time, but the knowledge of death is not for the living and I cannot share our communication.
“Sleipnir,” I called and he trotted over, “Would you take this wizard to the halls beyond? Etienne is his name. He fought and died in battle and deserves better than this field. I will need you to return, if you can and if it pleases you, for one last favor. Not here, but where I will be after the dawn breaks.”
The horse of horses agreed, allowing Etienne to mount, and carried him away. Placing my hand on the ground, green grass filled the blackness, dandelions sprinkled within, and a fairy circle sprouted to mark the area.
Then I walked down the hill. Where Maitlan crushed the remaining chariots, where the phalanx held, our lines met, and finally, to where Gun had fallen. He was no longer here, having died in battle, and briefly, I missed his presence. Yet I was glad for him.
A tangle of bushes burst forth from the ground and grasses, growing higher and higher, with thorns on their stems and fruit and flowers at the tips of their branches. I cupped a flower, the rose petals soft in my hands, and gave one last kiss so he would know that I’d come to honor his memory.
The dawn had yet to come, moonlight still ruled these lands, when I walked and walked to the castle I’d never seen.
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