By Mair Riley-Jones
All Our Grief Will Have To Wait For Now
Can’t sleep again. The tent felt stifling, her furs too heavy, too hot, sweaty. Pulling her boots on, she unlatched the entrance and ducked outside.
Cooler out here. The night breeze relaxed tense shoulders, a deep breath and a soft breeze. High above the night sky and its scattered stars watched the war camp slumber. Warm torches glowed and flickered between tents. She closed her eyes for a moment and saw him again. Lying in the grove. Eyes closed. Skin pale. That stupid fucking wound on his forehead.
Tears threatened at her eyes. Stinging and pressing. Forcing them back hurt, like swallowing dry food in a drier mouth. You’ve cried enough, she thought.
It was worst in the quiet moments. Like the absence hasn’t sunk in yet. So many times in the gathering last that she’d caught herself turning to get his attention. Show him something that family we’re up to. “Hey, Driscol, look at th-“. Stop crying.
Atlantis would burn. Whatever the new world looked like, the Sapphire City would not survive it. The Atlanteans would be dust and ash by the time he was avenged. Glut the hunt on their fear and flesh. Let them choke and cough on their own blood, blood, blood.
Another tent opened. Finn’s eyes caught hers. Had she started crying again?
“Can’t sleep?”
“No.”
“Yeah, me neither.”
He stood by her, looked up at the sky with her, gave her one armed hug, must have known she needed it.
“Do you miss him?”
“Driscol?”
“Yes, Driscol.”
“Course I do. Not like we won’t see him again though.”
Not really the point though is it.
“We’ll see him again.”
Not till they’re all dead though.
“You’re plotting.”
“What?”
“You always have that look on your face when you’re plotting. “
“I do not.”
“You absolutely do.”
“If you think so.”
“Could at least let me in on it.”
“Scrubbing the Atlanteans from the face of the world.”
“Naturally. We’ve got a ways to go before that though.”
They did. Cole and Kayle had only departed the War Host days earlier. Almost to Caledonia. Not home, but close.
There were still five Drune Lords to return to The Cyle. Three Wyrd Stones to smash. One world ending ritual to finish, and only four days to do it all in. Grief will have to wait for now. Slough Feg had a meeting with the business end of spear, it would be rude to keep him waiting.
