Imiko sobbed and drew her knees close, hugging them against her chest. I reached up and put an arm across her shoulders, pulling her into a hug. It felt awkward, and not just because the girl was taller than I, but because it wasn't the sort of thing I did. That was how Silva comforted people, with compassion and contact and love. I comforted people by drinking with them and burying the pain.
"We'll get him," I promised her. "I'll get him. I'll repay him in kind for all the pain he caused us. The Iron Legion will die for everything he has done, all the atrocities. For what he did to me. For what he's doing to Josef even now." Imiko let out a whine, but I wasn't listening anymore. My anger was a boiling thing inside of me, bolstered by Ssserakis' confirmation that the Iron Legion would pay. "I just have to find him first. Learn some new tricks. We need more power."
"It's not that," Imiko said between sobs. I realised I was gripping her tight, and she pushed away from me, tears rolling down her cheeks. "I know I couldn't stop him. I don't care. I killed someone, Eska. More than one." She reached down beside her and pulled up a small knife, the blade stained reddy brown with drying blood. "People are dead because of me. Because I…" Imiko held the knife before her, gripping the hilt hard between white knuckles. It shook in her grasp, as though she wanted nothing more than to let go but couldn't unwind her fingers. So, I did it for her. I took her hand and peeled back her rigid fingers, then plucked the knife away.
I don't know how to console people, I never have. Comforting and easing people's pain is simply not one of my skills. It's a lack in me, and I'm aware of it. It is not because I do not understand, and not because I do not feel for them, but simply that I know no words that can help. Silva was good with such moments, always knowing just what to say and when to say it, or sometimes when to say nothing at all. All I know how to do, is shoulder the burdens myself. After all, what's one more death, or even a hundred more, laid at my feet?
"It's not your fault, Imiko. It's mine." Truer words, I have rarely spoken. "You just held the knife. I gave it to you. I directed it. Without me, there would have been no need, and no target. It's not your fault. It's all because of me."
I looked about our little group. Homeless and wounded. Beaten and sullen. Even down in the Pit, despair had not crouched above our heads so closely. It wasn't just comfort or consoling they needed, and those who did would be better looking towards Hardt and his giant shoulders. They needed something else from me. They needed direction and purpose, and I had that to spare.
Pushing back to my feet was difficult. Sleeping in the chill had stiffened my limbs, and my ankle still hurt from being twisted. Between my various cuts and the cracked rib, the simple act of living was painful, but I've endured worse. At least my injuries would leave no memorable scars, not like some I have suffered. My hand found my left cheek and rubbed along the proud line Prig had left there, a reminder that even the pettiest of actions can leave a mark upon the world. All eyes turned to me as I stood there, as though my friends could all sense the weight of what I was about to do. Even Ssserakis stirred within me, its curiosity distracting it from the fear that surrounded us.
"Horralain, come with me." Terrans and pahht share a few common traits, and among them is strange attraction to mystery. Everyone could sense I had made a decision, and the implications hung in the air between us. When I stormed out of our little building, Horralain on my heels like a loyal dog, the others followed behind, driven on by curiosity.
I marched towards the amphitheatre as well as my leg would allow. It was more of a limping lurch, but I put my all into the act. Hardt asked a question behind me. Tamura answered him by saying A fire does not see the ash is leaves behind. It has already moved on to burn something new. I wondered if I was supposed to be the fire he spoke of. I'm not certain a metaphor has ever been more apt for my life. Everything in my way burns and all I leave behind is ashes.
Feral pahht watched us from shadows, their fear making them stand out to me as clear as the day was gloomy. Ssserakis was still weak, but the horror had fed well during my day and a half asleep, and my shadow shifted with every step as my passenger tested its new limits. Perhaps it was a result of our bond growing stronger, or perhaps the horror simply better understood its own capabilities within my confines. It claimed Ovaeris was different from Sevoari, the rules were different, yet I think neither of us truly knew what that meant. We were both discovering what the other was capable of, even as we discovered what we ourselves could do. For all our differences, Ssserakis and I made a good team.
I pointedly ignored the blackened sand where I had burned Silva's body. I needed no reminder of the consequences of my actions, especially when I had another act in mind that I knew might bode even worse for us all. Dozens of frozen bodies littered the arena floor, most of them already stripped of anything useful or worthwhile. Corpses do not rot and fester as they should in the cold, they stay preserved for a long time. Imiko let out a strangled sob and I heard Hardt rumble a few words. She would fare better in his care than mine. Discarded weapons, many of them bloodied, lay forgotten amidst the sand. Close to the centre, next to a giant body with a crushed chest, lay the great hammer; one of the ten weapons that fell when the moons collided. Its head lay half buried in the sand, its haft sticking upward.
Blood spotted the sand near the centre of the arena. Some of it was Josef's from where Prena had run him through, and some of it was mine from the injuries I had sustained. Already it seemed so long ago, but in truth it was less than two days gone. I stopped near the two small pillars that had been grown from the floor, the evidence of my meeting with the Iron Legion. When I turned around, I found the others nearby, watching me and waiting as though I were about to do something wondrous. I suppose they weren't far wrong. I was about to change the world.
"Aerolis!" I shouted the name to no answer. None of us had seen nor heard the Djinn since it fled the amphitheatre two days earlier. I think the others were happy about that. I should have been, too.
What are you doing, Eskara?
"I made a deal." I was answering Ssserakis, though I suppose the others thought I was talking to them. "Actually, I made two deals. It's time we both made good on our promises."
"Aerolis, the Changing!" I raised my voice even louder than before.
A wind rushed into the arena, stirring coats and hair as it came. Imiko clung tighter to Hardt's side and the big man sent a worried glance my way. Ishtar let out a groan and hobbled closer on her crutch, mumbling as she settled down on one of the earthen stools the Iron Legion had grown from the sand.
"I hope you know what you are doing, terrible student. This creature is not a thing to be trifled with."
"I made a deal to free you, Ishtar," I said. "I suppose we could have just chopped your leg off instead."
My sword tutor let out a chuckle. "I did not say I am not grateful. Only that I hope you are not stupid."
The wind grew to a howl and blew in from all over the arena, coalescing into a swirling maelstrom of madness just a few steps away. I squinted against the sand thrown into the air.
"I am not some servant to be summoned." The Djinn's voice was no longer a grating rumble of stone on stone, but more like a whistling howl of a cyclone.