Tosha wanted to scream.
She wanted to ball up her fists to pound the stone floor of the Great Hall while she wailed in grief at the loss of the man who had held up her world when her world came crashing down. She wanted to give vent to the sobs that stormed in her chest like a flock of angry birds because nothing was fair and everything hurt...
But she couldnât. Not now, with Riwal staring at her from just paces away, watching the light fade from his grandfatherâs eyes as the dark tendrils abandoned the withered husk of a man who had nothing left to give to this life. Those eyes, once quiet, calm, and reassuring, now stared fixedly into the next life or the Heavenly Shores beyond.
"Riwal," Tosha said, her voice caught somewhere between a whisper and a sob. "Riwal, give me your hand," she said, reaching out toward her eldest son. He was far too young to be a baron now, but then, Erling Fayle had only been a few years older when he finally took his fatherâs throne... Perhaps he would be able to lend his support if they were able to survive tonight, that is.
"Mother," Riwal said carefully, stepping forward to grab his motherâs hand. Among all his siblings, he alone remembered their fatherâs face, and he remembered how his mother had fallen ill after his fatherâs death...
He also remembered his grandfather, sitting him down when he was only five years old, telling him that a knight must always protect his lady, whether that lady was his mother or his wife, and that he would need to grow up to be strong enough to protect his mother now that his father had left for the Heavenly Shores.
Riwal had taken that message to heart, and for the past several years, heâd aimed to be the strongest knight he could be, chasing after Owain Lothianâs shadow at every opportunity. Just days ago, heâd earned Lord Owainâs praise for helping in the hunt for the Imperial Bull Elk. Now, that praise tasted like ashes on his lips as he looked at the frail, withered shell of the man who had taught him everything he knew about what it meant to be a knight, a lord, and beyond that, a man.
"Riwal," Tosha said, squeezing her sonâs hand and blinking back her tears. "Come with me," she said, climbing to her feet and pulling him along with her.
She didnât go very far. In the chaotic Great Hall, everyone had pressed close together in the âsafeâ spaces they could find, as far away from the dark tendrils as they could get, creating a pocket around the space where Preden Saliou had died. But Tosha led her son away from the late baronâs body, out from behind the tables and the benches, to a place where they could directly watch the fight taking place in the center of the hall.
"Riwal, will you pray with me?" Tosha said, glancing at her son and receiving a shaky nod in reply. Slowly, she sank to her knees, clutching the pendant at her throat with one hand while the other clung to her sonâs hand like a drowning woman clutched a rope.
-CLANG! -CLANG!- -SKREEEET!- -CLANG!-
Lord Owainâs swordwork was at itâs mist brilliant, powerful, and overwhelming, and Lady Ashlynn bled from several wounds. As strong and as fast as she was, she seemed so much smaller than the dark, shadow-shrouded figure of the Lothian Lord.
Lady Ashlynn had arrived to lay bare all of Lord Owainâs wickedness and cruelty, exposing the man beneath the charming smile for all the march to see. Now, the darkness within his soul had been made manifest as an evil force that fed upon his vassals, delivering him the power to slay even a Saintess who had crawled back from the brink of death to claim her vengeance and give the people of the march justice for Owain Lothianâs crimes.
"It isnât fair," Tosha said bitterly as she watched the point of Owainâs sword find yet another gap in Lady Ashlynnâs well-worn, battered armor. "He fights with the strength of many, while she stands alone..."
"Oh Holy Lord of Light, who guides the lost through darkness," Tosha said reverently as she watched the battle unfold. "I have failed in nearly every struggle that youâve sent to test me, and Iâve let myself fall to shallow, petty scheming among the ladies of the court..."
"Mother," Riwal said sharply. "You..."
"Hush, Riwal," Tosha said. "See how much lies have cost us," she said, nodding in Owainâs direction. "You must always be true about yourself, with yourself, and with the Holy Lord of Light. Even when the truth hurts to say. If you canât be honest, how can He take you seriously when you make Him an offering and ask for His help?"
Riwal had no response to that. He never thought much about the Church or the things the priests said unless it was about fighting demons. In his youthful dreams, he thought of fighting demons by the hundreds and the thousands, all to protect his mother and his siblings, and to be the kind of knight Lord Owain had been...
He never once thought that, when true evil appeared before him, he would face it on his knees in prayer, holding his motherâs hand.
"Itâs not fair that your Saintess struggles along against a monster who was once a man," Tosha said, returning to her prayers. "But I am weak, unworthy, and I cannot fight at her side. But if my life can balance the scales, to give her the strength to match the strength Lord Owain has stolen, then I offer it up freely," she said, squeezing Riwalâs hand tightly as she spoke.
"Whatever Saintess Ashlynn needs, you may take from me," she offered. "I only ask... Only ask that, if I fall, you guide Riwal to your Saintessâs side, so he doesnât need to struggle alone..."
"Mother, no!" Riwal cried. "No, you canât..." the young lord started to say, only to stop short as the sound of armor clattering filled the air and Lord Owain staggered several steps backward from an unexpected blow.
Lady Ashlynn stood battered and bleeding in the center of the great hall, but even a woman like Tosha, who had never cared for watching her husband or her son while they trained, could tell that Lady Ashlynn was nearing the end of her strength. That she stood at all with the wounds sheâd accumulated was a miracle all its own. For her to win now would require an even greater miracle...