Chapter Twenty-Two #2
The blue glow of Benjamin's thread burned bright enough to reflect in his eye sockets when Sikras placed the thread-wrapped stone between Benjamin’s ribs.
With the power of the spell, scattered bones organized, joints rejoined, and movement returned as Sikras felt his own vigor abandon him to sustain the spell.
He lurched forward, the darkness of the locks he could see draped over his forehead re-shifting to their ghostly gray.
Muscle mass siphoned, fatigue and aches returned, and the only thing that eased the sting was seeing Benjamin’s bones spring to life to catch Sikras’s shoulders in a sudden grasp.
“I saw her! Imri!” Benjamin squeezed tighter, voice brimming with excitement.
“Sikras, Imri was in Enos, essence and soul, all of her. I—I got to see my sister again. Well, see without seeing, however things work in Enos. You know what I’m talking about.
But she was there. I felt her. Told her I loved her, and she was happy, and .
.. and then Goddess Tiagon came. She came and took her to the twin gods’ paradise.
And Dionus was there too, but Death ...”
As the excitement faded from Benjamin’s voice, Sikras battled a wave of nausea.
The immense requirement to tether Benjamin’s soul to his bones weakened Sikras once more, and the world spun around him in a smear of landscape and shapes.
Wrestling through the discomfort, he swallowed a rising mouthful of bile and grinned.
“Turns out Imri’s soul was trapped here too.
But she’s free now. She can finally rest with Tiagon. ”
Benjamin relinquished Sikras from his grasp. “Her soul was trapped the whole time? By Dionus’s sword. I’m just glad she’s okay now. If anyone deserves eternal rest, it’s Imri. And Nyllmas is safe?”
“Vessik is dead, if that’s what you’re asking. I’ll regale you with the sordid details when the world stops spinning.”
“It’s over, then. That’s it. You did it.” The stark difference in Benjamin’s tone was evident, and he stared off into the distance. “You did it. There’s nothing left to do.”
Sikras nodded. As blissful as it was to enjoy the little things, like proper blood circulation and muscles that atrophy wasn’t ravaging, having Benjamin back made the loss of such frivolities bearable. But something still seemed ... incomplete.
Helspira threw her arms around Benjamin and expressed joy over his return, her words distant echoes on the edge of Sikras’s mind. He inhaled deeply, then released it in a slow, contemplative exhale.
A sudden familiar chill washed away the moment of respite. Somehow he knew she would come.
“Excuse me for a moment; would you both?” Sikras took a final look at his companions, stood, adjusted his collar, and closed the distance between himself and Death.
She watched him, wordless, tattered robes and long locks unmoving despite the wind.
“As much as I enjoy your company, you don’t need to keep visiting me.
Vessik is”—Sikras paused, stabbed by guilt over his dear friend’s fate—“is no longer a threat. Imri’s soul can finally rest. Ithusa may have absconded with those souls, but after what Helspira did to her, I doubt she’ll return, unless she suffered some sort of traumatic brain injury in addition to losing all those body parts. It’s over.”
From beneath the impossibly black shadows of her hood came Death’s soft voice. “I think we both know it isn’t.”
Sikras bristled. “A deal is a deal. I did everything I was supposed to do, everything I agreed to do.”
“Yes,” Death said. “You did.”
“This should be a victory,” he said, fists clenched, voice breaking.
Skeletal fingers wrapped tighter around the snath of her scythe. “Does it feel like one?”
The question cut deeper than any blade. Sikras squeezed his eyes shut, and the mocking sting of unshed tears burned behind his lids.
If he tightened his jaw any harder, teeth would chip.
But rather than run to the familiar comfort of numbness, he replayed the pain in Benjamin’s voice when Benjamin had realized he couldn’t accompany Imri to the twin gods’ afterlife.
When Benjamin had realized they had succeeded.
When Benjamin had realized he would be doomed to live another day.
“Sikras?”
The weight of Helspira’s hand on his shoulder startled him. With his back straight, eyes forcibly widened to keep the tears at bay, Sikras donned his practiced smile and spun to face her.
Concern showed in her knitted brows. “Are you all right?”
He raised her hand to his lips and planted a gentle kiss atop it. “Almost.”
Freeing her hand, Sikras cleared his throat and stepped past her, then stopped when he stood within several feet of Benjamin. He stole a fleeting glimpse over his shoulder to see if Death remained, but she had disappeared.
Benjamin tilted his head. “I can feel you staring at me. Are you in disbelief that a man can still look this good four years postmortem, or do I have something stuck in my teeth?”
His hands on his hips, Sikras rocked on the heels and balls of his feet, looking anywhere, everywhere, except for Benjamin’s face. “Both, actually.”
“Really?” Benjamin scraped at his teeth, until he pinched a small red fiber between his fingers and plucked it out. “Huh. Looks like lint from a Red Sentinel scarf.”
A bird trilled in a far-off tree, generously filling the long pause with sound. “Benjamin?”
“Yes?”
“Are you tired?”
“You know I don’t get tired. And even if I did, it’s not that long of a walk to Vinepool.”
Sikras finally faced him. “Look me in the eyes and tell me you’re not tired.”
“Oh.” Benjamin’s tone filled with understanding. “We’re not talking about walking, are we?”
“Tell me you’re fine, and we can forget this whole conversation ever happened.”
Wind rustled the tall grasses that snow hadn’t weighed down. Benjamin stared at his feet, quiet, until he turned his eye sockets upward. “I’m tired, Sikras.”
A compulsive laugh vanished in the wind. Sikras nodded, burrowing his fingers into his hips. “Well, I don’t know any good bedtime stories, but at least let me tuck you in.”
“Are ... you serious?”
“Unequivocally. And I am deeply, fiercely sorry it took me this long.”
Benjamin raised his hands to exonerate any guilt. “No apologies, please. You’re my friend. I’d do anything for you.”
“I know,” Sikras whispered, throat tight. “It’s time I return the favor.”
Crunching snow signaled Helspira’s approach. She stood beside Sikras but stayed silent.
Swallowing the pain, Sikras grinned. “If I recall, I won the last completed game of Rack and Ruin. If you go now, I’ll remain the reigning champion for all eternity, so ... this is a win-win for both of us, really.”
Bony digits clasped Sikras’s forearm. “You’ll be okay?”
“Cross my heart and hope to die. That actually means something now that I gambled my lives away, like a bettor at a Tsa'nakai race.”
Benjamin leaned in, as if inspecting every inch of Sikras’s face. “Are you sure you’ll be okay? I can never tell when you’re lying.”
“Yes, you can.” Sikras patted his hand. “But let me do this for you anyway.”
Slowly Benjamin nodded and craned his neck toward Helspira. “Take care of my guy for me, yeah?”
She swept away a tear and smiled. “Always.”
His heart pounding, head light, Sikras forced his body to remain poised, composed. “Any chance you renounced Dionus in the last five seconds and want to wait for me wherever all the godless heathens end up when they die?”
An echoey laugh rattled through Benjamin’s jaw. “You’d never want me to leave Imri all alone in the twin gods’ afterlife.”
Sikras smirked. “No. I wouldn’t. When you see her—”
“I’ll tell her you said hi. And, Sikras? I love you.”
Sikras bit the inside of his cheek until he tasted blood.
Fearing he might back out if he didn’t do it now, he gesticulated the proper finger movements, whispered the matching words, and stripped off each layered protection spell, like skins on an onion.
“I love you, too.” Giving Benjamin one final look, he swiped his hand, severing concentration on the spell that anchored his soul.
The light abandoned the thread. His bones hit the earth. Sikras flinched when the full force of the Cat’s Eye returned to him in a blink. But for all the power woven through his veins, he never felt weaker than when he stared at Benjamin’s unmoving corpse.
When Sikras was certain Benjamin was gone, certain of no chance to resurrect him, Sikras buckled at the knees and crashed into the cold snow.
The pressure of Helspira’s arms fell around his neck, and it took a moment to process that she had come around to kneel before him. “Why didn’t you tell him about Vessik?” she asked.
“If I did,” Sikras replied, each word shaking despite his effort to steady them, “he would have stayed.”
Silence. Nothing but the compression of Helspira’s embrace. “I’m so sorry, Sikras.”
He steadied his breaths, each one slow and purposeful, reminding him he could still breathe, though it felt like he was suffocating.
“I’m here,” came Helspira’s voice, so close but sounding so far away. “I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.”
In a flash, he wrapped his arms around her, pulled her into his chest, held her as tightly as his shaking arms allowed and, for the first time in his life, mourned the loss of Vessik Holm, Benjamin Reese, and Imri Nikabod.