Chapter 65: Cenric

Chapter

Sixty-Five

CENRIC

After the battle, my men spring into action, erecting tents and gathering supplies. Gabriel's forces join ours, and together we establish a makeshift camp.

Once the camp is established, I make my way through the apothecary tents. Groans of pain echo off the canvas walls as healers move swiftly between cots.

I stop at the first bed, where a young warrior lies with a bandaged chest. His face is pale, but his eyes light up when he sees me.

"Commander," he croaks out.

I clasp his shoulder gently. "You fought bravely today, Einar. Rest now and regain your strength. We'll need you for the battles to come."

Moving on, I approach an older warrior with a bandaged leg. "Halvor, old friend. Still getting into trouble, I see. "

He offers a faint smile. "Can't let the young ones have all the fun, sir."

"Save some glory for the rest of us next time," I say as I squeeze his arm.

At each cot, I pause, offering words of encouragement and gratitude. To some, I promise promotions for their bravery. To others, I share memories of past battles we've fought together.

As I move through the tents, I see the toll this rebellion has taken on my men. Bandaged limbs, blood-soaked cloths, and pained expressions surround me. Yet, in each face, I also see determination and loyalty.

Near the back of the tent, I find one of my youngest warriors. His arm is in a sling, and tears streak his dirt-smudged face.

I kneel beside him. "What's troubling you?"

He looks up, startled. "C-Commander, I...I'm sorry. I shouldn't be crying."

I shake my head. "There's no shame in tears. This was your first real battle, wasn't it?"

He nods, sniffling.

"You're alive. That means you did well. The first battle is always the hardest. But you've proven yourself a true Bloodstone warrior today." I squeeze the young warrior's shoulder. "What's your name?"

"Torsten, sir."

"Well, Torsten, I'll tell you a secret. I was terrified in my first battle too. But you know what? That fear kept me alive. It made me fight harder, move faster. And look at you now. You've survived your first real test as a warrior. That's something to be proud of."

Torsten's eyes widen. "Truly? You were scared too?"

I nod. "Every warrior feels fear. The brave ones use it to their advantage."

The tears on Torsten's face dry up. His chin lifts, a spark of pride igniting in his eyes. "Thank you, Commander. I'll do better next time."

"I know you will, Torsten. Now rest and heal."

I continue through the tent, offering words of comfort and praise to each wounded warrior. Their spirits lift with each interaction, determination replacing the pain in their eyes.

Gabriel appears at my side, his face grim. "Cenric, it's Liam. He's been injured badly. He's asking for you."

Liam?

My heart clenches. "Take me to him."

Gabriel leads me to another tent, where Liam lies on a blood-soaked cot. His face is ashen, and a thick bandage wraps around his midsection.

I kneel beside him, clasping his clammy hand. "Liam, you old fool. What have you gotten yourself into this time?"

A weak smile tugs at his lips. "Thought I'd try...catching a sword with my gut. Wouldn't...recommend it."

"Always the jester, aren't you? You'll be back on your feet in no time, my friend."

Liam's grip tightens on my hand. "We both know that's not true, Cen. But it's all right. I know...I'm dying."

I swallow as I fight to keep my voice steady. "Liam— "

"—we'll succeed. Magic will return...to our tribe. We'll root out...the evil. The Bloodstone...will be strong again."

The gods help me!

I never expected to lose someone like Liam. Never expected this rebellion to rip a chasm across my chest.

"I swear it," I say, my tone heavy with grief. "Your sacrifice won't be in vain."

Liam's eyes lock onto mine, a fierce light burning in them despite his fading strength. "You'll see it through. You always do."

Sometimes it doesn't feel worth it. The deaths. The pain of losing warriors you grow close to. But our tribe deserves my dedication. It deserves all our dedication. We have a purpose, and we will not stop until we see it through.

I remain near Liam's side until the light fades from his eyes and his hand drops limply by his side.

A curse rips from my throat as I rise, my legs stiff from kneeling so long. The tent feels suffocating, the air thick with the stench of blood and death.

I need to get out. Now!

Pushing past Gabriel, I stride from the tent. I walk away from the camp. Away from the tents filled with the wounded and dying. Away from Liam's lifeless body.

My feet carry me to the edge of a nearby cliff. The wind whips around me, tugging at my cloak. Below, the valley stretches out, dotted with the fires of our makeshift camp. Beyond that, darkness.

I stand there, staring out into the void. My jaw clenches so tight it aches. My fingernails dig into my palms, but I barely feel the pain.

Liam. Gone.

The man who fought by my side since we were boys. The one person who could always make me laugh, even in the darkest moments. My closest friend. My brother in all but blood.

A roar builds in my chest, clawing its way up my throat. I want to scream, to rage at the gods, to curse this rebellion that's taken so much from us.

Instead, I grab a nearby rock and hurl it into the darkness with all my strength. It disappears into the night.

I pick up another. And another. Each one I throw harder than the last, my muscles straining with the effort.

It's not enough. It will never be enough.

I drop to my knees, my chest heaving. My eyes burn, but I refuse to let the tears fall. Leaders don't cry. Warriors don't show weakness.

But damn, does it hurt.

I slam my fist into the ground, welcoming the sharp pain that shoots up my arm. It's something to focus on besides the gaping hole in my chest.

"I'm sorry," I whisper into the wind. "I'm so damn sorry, Liam."