HER LAST STAND
Kyra stared at the blade in her lap, sharpening it with careful movements. It was only a few months ago that she’d learned how to do it. She had learned many things since then. Seen many things. Too many.
She shivered as the wind blasted through the mountain pass and glanced at the hulking shadows rising all around them. They had renamed them the Last Stand Mountains. The place where hope went to die.
Tomorrow, she would take the sword and fight. There was no one left to deny her, it was her right as the elder of her family. Kyra would never see her fourteenth summer, she knew that. Accepted it. There were no more tears. Not anymore.
War, that’s what the adults called it. War of the mothers. In her opinion, slaughter was a better name, more accurate. Mothers fought hardest, were the fiercest. Stood their ground. But even the fiercest mother could be slain.
Kyra wrapped her fingers around the handle and lifted the sword. It was heavy in her hand, but that didn’t matter. She was ready. It was her mother’s and she would carry it to the battlefield. She would fight and stand her ground. For her little brother.
Someone sang into the night. Ballads were the one thing they still had. Songs to remember their fallen by. Kyra joined in to the chorus, adding a name at the end. Her voice didn’t waver when the war cry rose. She would cry it tomorrow with the others and it would carry over the clash of swords. It would be their legacy.
She was already up when the shouting began, bringing the whole camp to their feet. Elves. Elves were here. Kyra glanced over the fire at Samuel sleeping under the furs. She would protect him.
Figures in black capes melted out of the shadows. They moved quietly, barely disturbing the surrounding air. Kyra held her sword tighter, ready to fight, but no attack came. The elves formed a line and pulled back their hoods, revealing white hair instead of raven black. Kyra sighed softly. Elves of Snow. Why were they here? This wasn’t their war.
Some of the tension drained from her muscles, but she heard muttering and saw the sideways glances. Clearly, she wasn’t the only one unsure about this turn of events. Kyra moved to stand between her brother and the newcomers.
There were no branches of green to indicate that they came in peace. No weapons either. Kyra inched a step closer, keeping the sword at her side. The Last Queen walked over but didn’t offer the elves any greeting. Others gathered around her, all waiting in silence. Kyra slid between bodies to see better.
One of the elves pushed back her cloak, revealing a dark green suit. Kyra couldn’t silence her gasp. One by one, the rest of the elves followed suit. All of them wore different colors, from green to blue and to shades of gray and white. Kyra blinked rapidly, taking it all in. Her hand shook so much, she had to tighten her grip on the sword to keep it from falling.
It was not just Elves of Snow standing before them. It was a coalition from The North. Every faction stood represented. All of them. Kyra couldn’t believe her eyes.
As one, they pulled small knives and slashed their hands, spilling blood on the ground. Kyra took a step back and bumped into someone. A hand landed on her shoulder, steadying her. A blood oath. She changed her grip and let her own blood drip down from the blade of her mother’s sword. An oath answered.
Again, as one, the elves turned and, in a blink of an eye, melted back into the shadows.
Tears slowly trailed down her cheeks as the silence over the camp broke. Kyra could hear their worry, sense their unease. Questions saturated the air around her, but she couldn’t find her voice. There were no words, she just knew.
Touching the small wound in her hand, Kyra made her way back to the fire. Samuel still slept undisturbed. A soft smile played on her lips when she sat down to sharpen her sword. She would carry it to the battle tomorrow.
Kyra glanced at the mountains again. Hope glimmered in her eyes and faith burned in her veins. It would not be her last stand.