The Lion Soul by Amy Sumida

Chapter Forty-Six

I sat on the deck beside Kaelen, both of us in borrowed clothes, with our backs against the cabin, just to the side of the steps to the quarterdeck. I couldn't close my eyes yet, not with Alantri still on the horizon. General Shelvak was likely still alive which meant that he'd be coming for me. Whether he'd do so immediately or not was the question. So far, it looked as if he wasn't going to risk flying after us, not when he couldn't bring his ground troops with him. I'd have done it if I were him. We had more soldiers out there, but we would have been hindered by the sea and the fact that we were divided into several ships. Still, Shelvak didn't come, and it left me wondering if we'd injured him more gravely than I'd thought.

Many of our soldiers had died, but not a single one was Takahansi. My clan had proved themselves against the Farungal and there was a sense of accomplishment, if not brash pride, about them. They lined the railings, watching Alantri disappear with blank expressions that I knew hid their satisfaction. It wouldn't be proper to show such pleasure when so many others had fallen. Still, I felt it too, the honor of representing our people well.

Not that we hadn't suffered. Most of the Takahansi were wounded, many of those were minor injuries, but some warriors stood with arms hanging limply or favoring one leg, and a few were below deck, being tended to. But there were no corpses on our ship, and for that, I was deeply grateful.

Once Alantri faded from view, and we were far out enough to feel relatively safe, I finally gave in to my exhaustion and dozed off. An hour or so later, I was awakened by a gentle shake on my shoulder. I blinked my eyes open to see Kaelen smiling softly at me. Although my kin had been able to find us pants that fit, they hadn't been so successful with tunics, so his bare chest greeted my sleepy gaze. I had a sudden thought that I'd be happy to awaken to such a sight every day for the rest of my life.

“Your father wants a word,” Kaelen said.

I frowned and focused on my father, who stood just behind Kaelen. The warriors of my clan were gathered around him solemnly. Solemn except for my sister, who gave me a secret wink.

I got up and bowed to my father, self-conscious of how I was as bare-chested as Kaelen. As I mentioned, the Nazakian tunics hadn't fit Kaelen, and they'd been snug enough on me that I had decided to go without as well. If I had known that my father had some kind of ceremony planned, I would have put up with the discomfort and squeezed into one. But my father didn't seem to mind.

My father bowed back to me before declaring, “We have fought a great battle today against a fearsome enemy. I am pleased that it ended with your liberation and that you played a part in that. You showed skill, bravery, and power today, my son. I have never been more proud of you than when you leapt from that wall and killed the Farungal Queen. You have proved yourself to be a valued member of our clan. I am confident that you and your sister will continue to bring honor to our family.”

“Thank you, Father.” I bowed again.

“Which is why I've decided that I have fought my last battle.”

My sister blinked, her eyes going wide, but no one else reacted. A warrior had the right to retire at any time, though it was more honorable to do so after providing a replacement to the clan through a child or by waiting until you were past a prime fighting age. Still, my father had shown no indication of wanting to retire before this.

“Thank you for the wisdom you passed onto me, Father,” I said. “You have taught me much that I will carry with me forever.”

“I have more than wisdom to offer you, Son.” My father's lips twitched before he controlled his expression. With crisp movements, he untied the cords that held his swords to his belt. The cords unwound to show the bright underbellies that had been preserved within the knots, drawing attention to how faded the rest of the length was. My eyes widened as my father lifted the swords between us, balancing the enameled sheaths on his palms. “These swords belonged to your great grandfather, Osani Takahansi who commissioned them from the renowned swordsmith, Ukamu Juro. When he retired, Osani gave them to his son, Kenru Takahansi, and Kenru, my father, left them to me upon his death. Now, I give them to you. It appears that you need them.” He looked pointedly at my bare hip.

“Thank you, Father and esteemed ancestors,” I whispered reverently as I took the swords. “I hope that I will prove worthy to wield them.”

“You have already proven so.” He wrapped my hands around the swords. “A warrior cannot be without his swords, even if he has other weapons available to him. I know you will not be returning with us, Son. These swords will serve to remind you that you are a part of us, and we are a part of you. Stronger than steel.” He tapped the enameled sheaths. “A bond that cannot be cut. You have been transformed by the Gods, but your blood is still our blood, Rieyu Takahansi. Never forget that.”

I gathered the swords to my chest in the proper ceremonial manner and bowed over them to my father and then my clan. “I will never forget my clan.”

And then, after I received their bows in return, the Takahansi clan shouted our battle cry. It must have echoed across the water to the ships because the Stalanians and faeries took up the cry and it spread down our fleet until the very air vibrated with our shouts of joy.