9. Ashorra the Only

Ashorra stormed his own battle field. He knew where they were, he knew what they were doing, because he had given the orders. So many soldiers. So many ghosts. So much blood. So many voices.

He closed his eyes, dizzy and unsure on his paws.

Don’t be weak. Fight! Fight for your wife!

Such a hypocrite. Let your soldiers fight for you, but close your eyes when you enter the battle field yourself.

Be strong and crush those enemies. For a united Schola! For your grandfather!

Now he saw what one pawn on his map represented. An endless, endless row of animals on both sides. Every single one chased by their own Death, until they were unavoidably grabbed by their mate—never coming home.

“Who has taken my wife?” he bellowed. His army automatically formed around him, a gigantic elephant as the perfect center. The Tamli armies heard his voice, or its delayed echoes, and they laughed. They laughed at him.

“Aaaah!”

He dashed at the danger. His double sword, sharp on both sides, twisted round and round before him. He barely saw what he did, only enemies vanishing from his path. Sometimes his eyes closed. Sometimes he stepped straight through the Death of another, chilling him to the bone.

It motivated his own army. They yelled equally loudly and leapt at the enemy. They made progress—progress! Piece by piece, Candya’s territory was taken and conquered.

The Tamli king himself had to retreat. In the distance, behind a safe shield wall, he held an alarmed discussion with Are and Beeris.

“I am here!”

Marili’s voice. She did not sound in danger. She sounded … challenging?

He finally opened his eyes. He shouldn’t have.

Around him was only death and despair. So many soldiers. So many innocents caught in the fire. He almost fainted—and this wasn’t even half a pawn on the map. Before the battle was over, the bodies would pile up.

No more.

This wasn’t right. This was impossible. How could he ever pretend to be a good king as he commanded this?

Ah, I see now. You are weak.

“SHUT—UP.”

You froze amidst a battle field. Your soldiers are losing hope already.

“You are my Death,” he whispered. “Your only goal is to push me to my death as rapidly as possible. I’m not listening, I’m not listening.”

He found his wife.

Marili wore spiked armor and shot heavy stone balls with her trunk.

She fought for the enemy.

“Marili!” he yelled, pushing aside soldiers on both sides with his tusks. It felt like walking against a storm, wading through water.

Marili held four enemies at a distance. Her enemies—his soldiers. Her attacks were precise, elegant, and deadly.

“Marili! Stop this madness! How dare you fight against me?”

“I’m not. I fled to Candya to live in peace. Now I am defending myself!”

“Nonsense! Come with—”

“I am never coming with you again!” she screamed. The next bullet from her destroyed a Gupramil catapult.

“You are commanded to—”

“Your commands never mattered to me!” She twisted and pierced an incoming cannonball on her spikes. Now that everyone knew who she was, some were hesitant to attack, while others attacked gleefully.

They could almost touch each other. All fell silent. The fights seemed slowed down, sounds dulled, his entire world nothing more than Marili’s sweet, beautiful face.

“I stayed for love. For what I thought we could be together. A united, peaceful Schola. I wanted that—I wanted you.”

Ashorra extended his paw to her. “How could you not want me anymore? With how strong I’ve become?”

Marili stepped back, barely looking at him. “No. Deep inside you’re a soft, emotional boy. You let entire armies go out of love, just to save me. You think it’s a weakness—it’s your biggest strength.”

“And I still desire you here, at my side!”

“All life is suffering, and all suffering comes from desire.”

She cried.

Her Deathmate, a little boy with a naughty grin, jumped on top of her as if she were tasty prey.

She didn’t notice the next attack at her back.

“No!”

A flaming cannonball hit Marili and hurled her across the battle field like a leaf in the wind. She stayed down, lifeless, open eyes starting at a sky filled with arrows and fire.

Now don’t go crying, you soft king, you—

He fell on his side. And he cried tears until they turned to rivers flowing away from him. Marili. Sweet Marili. He loved her so. Why had he not told her every day? Why had he ever been angry with her? It was a miracle she even stayed all those years.

She should’ve stayed much longer, like his grandfather. But now …

“STOP!” he bellowed. Roaring and shaking he lifted himself off the floor, layers of dirt caked to his left side.

“Lay down your weapons. We pull back. Nobody fights anymore. The war is over.”

“What?” The tiger commander looked around and laughed at this. “Ignore that—”

“You’ve heard your king,” Ardex said, after which he removed a handful of weapons from soldier’s paws with one swing. Even the Tamli were rooted to the spot, although their army was almost exterminated.

A ghost floated before him. His own Death, a woman who chuckled and rubbed her hands.

Oh, yes, good plan. This will kill you much faster!

She was so convincing. So—

His Deathmate was suddenly attacked by another Deathmate, who was the exact opposite of Marili.

Focus. Clarity. For the first time in forever, he could think for himself.

“My command remains. We don’t fight anymore. The Tamli are welcome everywhere, you may keep your own area and riches, I don’t care.”

He turned around and walked away, destroying some more weapons.

The Tamli army was left behind uncertain. Some also dropped their weapons. Some eagerly took the opportunity to—

Beeris forced his way forward.

“Some would call your decision insane, Ashorra,” he said. “Naïve and stupid enough to end the Gupramils dynasty.”

He turned around and smiled at all soldiers.

“I am not one of such creatures.”

Side by side, they left the battle field to discuss the terms of their peace. But most of all, Beeris had to console the crying king after losing his beloved wife.

That’s what family did.