El mundo de Lirah es pequeño y viven en islas flotantes porque casi toda la superficie terrestre está bajo el mar. Se necesita una gran cantidad de solárium, una planta que produce energía, para mantener sus ciudades en el aire.

Runa walked through the ruins of the main seat of Aifeatas. Two large fires burned in the distance, spewing black smoke and filling the air with the smell of charred remains. Homes had been gutted by still smoldering flames. Those that had been spared by the torch had their doors kicked in and the inhabitants’ belongings scattered. Runa wouldn’t be surprised if some looting had taken place despite Arona’s strict orders against it.

What shook Runa to the core was that besides herself, Lirah, and a few of Arona’s soldiers in the distance, there was no one else here. Had everyone fled before and during the battle? Or had they left earlier, when Orrin stormed through with his army?

Arona had mentioned that they had been lucky to catch both Orrin and Gerant at the same time, but as Runa considered the damage done, she wasn’t so sure. The citizens could rebuild and have a halfway hospitable main seat by the next year, but that depended on whether people wanted to return after being displaced by battle.

But she wasn’t here to reflect on what had been her home for nine years. With Lirah following close by, she made her way to a makeshift clearing where two bound men, Lelwy Arona, and a crowd of onlookers were.

“Is that them?” Lirah inquired quietly. She nodded at the men.

“Orrin and Gerant? Yes.” Runa confirmed. “I asked for them to be taken alive… if possible.”

“I would have just killed them in battle.” Lirah remarked. “Considering the damage they’ve done to you and your children, they deserve it.”

“They’ll die after I’m done speaking with them.” Runa stated patiently. “But I must ask them a few questions first. Wait here.”

Lirah headed toward the crowd as Runa walked away. She was surprised Runa wasn’t angrier at her brother in laws for the crimes they committed. They had committed fratricide and stolen the birthrights of her daughter and son, all in the name of petty revenge against their brother. But… perhaps Ciardha was to blame as well. She only knew of one incident between the three, where Ciardha had lured Orrin and Gerant into drinking with him and ordered them castrated when they were too drunk to move. 

But in her opinion, if Ciardha had wanted to ensure a swift end for both bastard brothers, he should have opted for something other than sending them to battle and removing a part they dearly treasured.

Runa stopped in front of her brothers in law. They were kneeling in the mud, stripped of their armor and weapons, and their limbs immobilized with rope tied to stakes in the ground. Orrin was barely recognizable; dried blood caked his face, most of it from a grim scar that sliced through his right eye. The rest of his face that wasn’t covered in blood was swelled and painful. The long brunette braid Runa remembered him sporting had been hacked off and lay discarded at his side.

Gerant wasn’t faring any better. One arm still bled heavily despite a rudimentary cloth bandage. Under the grime and mud caking his face, he sported a bloody nose that was either due to a cut or a brutal punch to the face. Blood seeped out of one corner of his mouth. As Runa watched, he spat out a bloody tooth. Arona left their sides to stand next to Runa.

“Are you surprised I’m still alive?” Runa asked.

Orrin shook his head.

“Saw you… slip away… couldn’t find you,” he wheezed

Runa could only nod. She swallowed heavily. She had told herself over and over that she was ready to face them again, but the sight of Orrin made her blood run cold. She wanted to run away, even though there was no possibility of him getting out of his bonds and strangling her and her children like she’d overheard him promise Gerant.

“I know you murdered Ciardha,” she said instead. Her voice came out harsher than expected. “What did you do with his body?”

Gerant craned his head to look at Orrin. Orrin lowered his head and refused to look at her.

“Answer me,” Runa demanded. She felt tears forming and did nothing to wipe them away. “D-did you salvage his body and burn him?”

No answer from either brother. Runa trembled with grief and rage as Arona steadied her.

“Answer me!” Runa screamed. Arona tried to stop her, but she stepped forward and slapped Orrin as hard as she could.

Orrin spat out blood, but he refused to answer.

“We… we beheaded him and tossed the head in the Inan Strait,” Gerant confessed. “We fed the rest of him to the pigs and dogs.”

Runa fell to her knees in the mud. She screamed a wail that echoed around the clearing and made the hairs on Lirah’s neck stand up. She desperately tried to push through the crowd, but they refused to move for her. Through the gaps in the bodies, she saw Runa’s body shake with sobs as Arona knelt beside her. Finally, she gave up trying to push through and walked around the crowd to reach the very front. By the time she reached it, Runa had stopped crying and was standing without Arona’s help.

“T-Tell me,” Runa sobbed. “Is there anything of his I can have to honor him? A-A scrap of cloth? Anything?!”

The brothers were silent as they looked at each other, and then they hung their heads.

“No…” Orrin whispered.

Runa stood there, dumbfounded. Arona grabbed her just in case she fell again, but she regretted it as Runa wrenched out of her embrace and grabbed at her belt.

“Runa, no!” she shouted, but it was too late.

Lirah watched, horrified, as Runa unsheathed one of Arona’s knives and slashed at the brothers. Her gut-wrenching scream mixed with Orrin’s agonized yell as he helplessly struggled against his tight bonds. Gerant remained upright, though his forehead was bleeding profusely.

“Rot in hell, both of you!” Runa shouted. She threw the knife to the ground as Orrin continued to howl in pain. She’d slit his remaining eye and cut the bridge of his nose. “I wish you the same fate you gave my husband!”

She turned around and stormed off toward the temporary encampment, deaf to the murmurs of the gathered crowd and the screams of Orrin. Arona and Lirah ran after her, catching up with her just shy of the camp entrance. Runa blindly fell into the arms of one of them and started sobbing into her chest. She didn’t care who it was. She sank down to her knees again, taking the two women with her.

Lirah grunted as Runa dragged her down and winced as the wet mud soaked through her skirts. She moved out of the way to avoid putting pressure on what remained of Arona’s left arm. Runa was sobbing into her chest and Arona was muttering phrases too softly for her to hear properly. Not knowing the best choice of words to comfort her, Lirah awkwardly smoothed Runa’s long hair back from her face and shoulders and allowed her to cry herself out. Hardly anyone in front of them paid them attention, and the people from the crowd said nothing as they quietly tip-toed past the trio.

With a final, heaving sniffle, Runa raised her head and wiped her eyes with her sleeve.

“I-I’m s-sorry…” she said hoarsely.

Lirah bit back a retort. Runa had nothing to apologize for, even though the front of Lirah’s dress was wet with snot and tears.

“We need to get you cleaned up,” she said instead. “Come on.”

“I’ve got her left side,” Arona muttered. “Lirah, can you support her on the right?”

“Already on it,” Lirah answered. “This isn’t hurting your left arm, is it?”

“No, I’m using my right arm to support her. I’m going to stand on the count of three, all right?” Arona replied. “One… two…”

“Three!” Lirah finished.

They stood up, adjusted Runa between them, and began walking back to her tent.

--

Lirah sat down on a closed chest and set a clean dress down beside her. Runa was asleep in her bedroll, a cool cloth resting on her eyes. Arona was sitting on a low stool nearby, cleaning the knife Runa stole from her. The tent entrance was tied shut tightly, though sounds of cooking and a buzz of conversation intruded.

“Lelwy Arona, may I ask a question?” Lirah asked quietly.

Arona glanced up from polishing her blade. “Do you need help changing into another dress?”

“Thank you, but I don’t.” Lirah stood up and started unbuttoning the front of her soiled dress. She struggled with the long, horizontal horn buttons as she spoke. “It’s about what I witnessed earlier.”

“I’ll try to answer as best as I can,” Arona replied. She placed a rag she’d been using to clean aside and picked up a whetstone. “What questions do you have?”

Lirah waited to speak until she finally managed to undo the final button of the dress and slipped the garment off. “What did Lelwy Runa mean when she asked Orrin and Gerant about… having something of her husband to honor him?”

Arona mulled over her response. How Votgardt and Veltan handled their dead could be different, and the last thing she wanted to do was offend Runa’s… well, servant. Who was actually a guest pretending to be a servant? She angled her clean knife on the whetstone and sliced against it five times as Lirah changed in front of her.

“We burn our dead. After the burning, family members of the deceased are usually given ashes from the pyre,” Arona finally replied. “However, sometimes locks of the deceased’s hair are given to them, or scraps of their funeral clothing are given instead.”

“So… Orrin and Gerant didn’t do that?” Lirah struggled to pull the fabric she was man-handling close enough for the thick, horizontal button to get through the hole.

“Do you need help with that?” Arona asked. “Is the dress too small?”

“No, I can manage. I just need practice,” Lirah replied. “Answer my question.”

“No, the brothers didn’t do that. By cutting Ciardha’s head… off…” Arona faltered, her voice catching. She didn’t want to acknowledge it. “… and feeding his body to animals, they’ve denied him the proper burial he deserved.”

Lirah stopped buttoning up and stared at her, shocked.

“That’s…”

Arona set her knife and whetstone aside. She nodded, trying to hide her anguish.

“I… Yes. I know Ciardha didn’t… get along with his brothers,” she said thickly. She inhaled sharply and wiped her eyes. “B-but this is a level of cruelty I did not expect them to do.”

“You’re going to execute them, aren’t you?”

“With what they confessed earlier, how could we not?” Arona stated harshly. “We might do it tonight, but it does threaten to rain later.”

“How are they doing to die?” Lirah inquired. Arona shrugged.

“It’s up to Runa. However, I don’t think she’ll be awake until later tonight or tomorrow morning.” she said. “By then, they’ll be dead. Besides… she did wish them the same fate they dealt Ciardha.”

Lirah busied herself with the dress buttons as she tried to think up a response. She was halfway done and not willing to acknowledge that this dress was too small for her. As she wrangled with closing a button below her chest, she couldn’t stop thinking about the cremations done to the deceased.

“Lelwy Arona, is everyone cremated? Does it matter what their social rank is?” she asked. “Are executed individuals cremated?”

“Everyone is cremated, Lirah. But some pyres, depending on social rank, can be more elaborate than others,” Arona replied. “Criminals are granted cremation rights, but their bodies are left to burn alone. Do you have suggestions for the executions?”

“I do, actually. But before I voice them, how would you carry out the executions?”

Arona went quiet for a minute. “I’d… give them a similar fate as Ciardha like Runa wished. Decapitate them and throw their bodies into the forest for the animals to eat, because I doubt the pigs here can digest another human. What’s your idea?”

“You’re going to think I’m being cruel, but…”

Arona listened. Her mouth dropped open at the crux of the plan and she hastily closed it.

“That… that’s very fitting for them. A twist on tradition. Did you say you wanted to carry it out yourself?”

“I did,” Lirah replied.

“Traditionally, criminals are beheaded and then cremated immediately after by the executioner without ceremony,” Arona stated. “But with your plan, we may not need an executioner after all.” She quieted for a minute before speaking back up. “But how are you going to carry this out?”

“I don’t want to reveal my plans just yet,” Lirah replied. “But Runa’s children… will Breda see it? Padraig’s usually put to bed after sunset.”

“I saw my first execution when I was eight, and my first funeral when I was three,” Arona replied with a shrug.

“But Breda isn’t you. She’s almost four years old.”

“My younger sister Gwinna saw her first execution and subsequent cremation when she was four years old,” Arona countered. “It was our older brother. She had questions, yes, but she wasn’t scared.”

Lirah did not want to know the circumstances behind that execution.

“I’m just worried no one will be able to keep an eye on her when I carry out my plan,” she said instead. “Runa’s asleep, and I can’t carry out my plan and watch Breda at the same time.”

“Gwinna and I can watch her for you,” Arona offered. “I can also arrange for someone to keep an eye on Runa until the executions are over.”

Lirah was silent as she thought the plan over. It was sound enough, providing Arona chose someone she trusted to look after Runa. Having her and Gwinna watch Breda would also let her be free to work without distraction.

“All right. Your plan sounds better than mine would have been if I voiced it,” Lirah stated. “We’ll use it. When are we going to hold the executions?”

“Executions are typically held at sun down. Gwinna and I will get you when everything’s ready.” Arona replied. She paused as she scrutinized Lirah’s appearance. “Can you come a little closer?”

Lirah walked up to her, and tried to stand in a more lighted spot. “What’s wrong?”

Arona seized the dress front and pulled her closer. “This dress is too small for you. I know you wanted practice buttoning up these awful things, but it’s no good walking around and having it rip at the seams unexpectedly.”

Lirah’s face reddened. “I didn’t grab something belonging to your sister, did I?”

“No. She’s smaller and thinner than you right now. Is Runa allowing you to wear her clothing?”

“…Yes? Well, some old dresses her foster mother gave me to wear. Lelwy Eig—Eigyr?”

“Lelwy Eigyr. That’s how you pronounce it,” Arona corrected. She let go of the dress and stood up. “Wait here. I think we’re more or less the same size, so I’ll give you some of mine that I was going to cast off.”

“You don’t have to!” Lirah protested. “I think this is the only one that’s too small. The others fit me well enough.”

“Hm. Very well, how about this: I give you one of my cast offs, and in exchange you can give the one you’re wearing to my sister,” Arona suggested. She looked at the garment critically. “It’ll be slightly big on her right now, but she’s growing like a weed. In a month or so I think she’ll fit it perfectly.”

“I like that arrangement much better,” Lirah stated. She sounded relieved, but Arona smacked her hands away when she started to unbutton the dress.

“Don’t touch those until I get back. I’ll show you a trick to fasten the dress together easier,” Arona chastised. She walked toward the tent entrance and began to deftly untie the opening. “Go check on Runa, but don’t wake her.”

--

At sundown Arona, Gwinna, and Breda came for Lirah. As promised, Arona had given her one of her cast off dresses to wear. Lirah had expected yet another garment that had to be shrugged on and buttoned up, but she was pleasantly surprised that this wasn’t the case. She only had to pull it down over herself and smooth any creases left behind. It was a dress made for a larger woman, but a makeshift belt made it fit easier. Before leaving, she had grabbed a bucket of oil and then covertly opened a chest to grab one of Runa’s cloaks. She didn’t want to wake Runa and ask to borrow it. She would only wear it tonight, anyway.

The four of them strode out of camp. Breda walked next to Gwinna, clutching her hand tightly.

“Is that Mommy’s?” Breda asked. She pointed at Lirah’s dark grey cloak.

“Your abasa let me wear this tonight,” Lirah lied.

Arona and Gwinna stared at her, confused.

“I—I meant mother,” Lirah corrected. “Breda knows what I said…”

“I don’t,” Breda replied. She looked up at Gwinna as Lirah tried to cover her shock. “Where are we going?”

“We’re going to the field where I taught you to make flower crowns…” Gwinna replied.

Lirah didn’t listen to the rest of Gwinna’s words as they approached the clearing. She hung back a little and let the three walk ahead of her. It was difficult to tell just how many people were present, though visually it looked as if everyone had turned out. But the coming nightfall made it hard to see. The only source of light was a ring of torches, widely spaced out around the perimeter of the gathering.

When Arona, Breda, and Gwinna had disappeared into the crowd, Lirah began walking again. She pulled the hood over her head and kept her pace slow. The gathered crowd parted for her as she approached.

Orrin and Gerant were still tied in place, though they were surrounded with kindling and straw. Lirah stepped through the parted crowd and clutched the bucket of oil. Orrin raised his head at the noise. Lirah tried to not recoil at the sight of his ruined eyes.

“Who are you?” he asked hoarsely.

“You don’t need to know who I am,” Lirah replied.

She approached the men and began pouring the oil all over them. Lirah didn’t necessarily need it, but she wanted to maintain an illusion that she was going to do a cremation the proper way with torches. Gerant squirmed as oil trickled down his back. Lirah tried to not pour the oil onto Orrin’s face, but he squirmed and subsequently cried out as the oil she was trying to pour on the back of his head dribbled down his face. When she was satisfied with how covered the two men were, Lirah stepped back and set the bucket down near someone’s feet.

“Lelwy Runa informed me that cremation is how the people of Votgardt respect their dead,” she announced. Her voice carried throughout the crowd. “In the place of Lelwy Runa, I sentence you both to die for the crimes you have committed against your brother, your niece, and your nephew.”

In the crown, Breda tugged on Arona’s sleeve.

“What did he do to me?” she asked. Arona crouched down beside her.

“You were supposed to rule Aifeatas and Padraig was supposed to rule Mhoibh,” she whispered. “But Orrin and Gerant took them from you when they killed your papa.”

“Am I getting Affy back?”

“Yes you are,” Arona replied.

She stood back up, using a stranger for support. Breda ignored her and began peppering Gwinna with whispered questions. A woman stepped forward and tapped Lirah on the shoulder.

“If you’re going to burn them, they should die first,” the anonymous woman stated when Lirah turned around. She held out a small knife. Lirah shook her head.

“I won’t need it. Please, stand back,” she replied. The woman looked confused, but she reluctantly complied.

“W-who are you?” Orrin sobbed.

“I am the last thing you’ll see before you die.” Lirah responded coldly. “Lelwy Runa also extends her condolences for what you lost last year, and hopes you’ll be reunited with them in death.” 

She closed her eyes and envisioned the two men bursting into flames, but she quickly retracted the thought before it became reality. It was too easy to do. They deserved something more subtle. She took a deep breath and focused on how the two brothers were outlined in her mind. She envisioned small flames breaking out on them, almost like lighting a candle on a candelabra, and channeled her energy into that instead.

“What are you doing?!” Gerant screamed.

Lirah opened her eyes as the crowd behind her gasped. Orrin was struggling against his bonds, and the smell of burning hair filled her nostrils. Another flame burst to life on him as she blinked, this time on the hem of his soiled tunic. Gerant howled in pain as his oil-soaked skin caught fire and spread up his injured arm.

“Why?” Gerant sobbed. Lirah could barely hear him over Orrin’s deafening screams. “We’re still alive!”

“You dishonored your brother’s body after his death,” Lirah responded. “I’m giving you two the proper burial you denied him.”

As she spoke, more flames erupted on the men and their screams filled the night. The onlookers began shouting lurid, hateful phrases at them. They were words Lirah had no translation for, but the way they were spoken was enough to get the message across. She felt slightly nauseous now; a brief spell of light-headedness that only required her to rest.

Arona stared at Lirah in shock. She had not explained this—this calling fire out of thin air. How had she done it? Was she one of these mages Runa’s father wanted for his army? Arona wanted to demand an explanation from her. But supervising Breda with Gwinna was a higher priority. In the press of the crowd, surrounded by the shouting men and women, she watched Lirah walk away.

--