"Lost to Eternity" by Elisabeth A. Wilhelm

Niree had known Era since she had been a child, yet he still was puzzled by her behavior. He had watched her silently make the vows of laeder for the coming battle, his heart in conflict with his mind. The alliance he had fought for so long would send Era to her doom.

“To eternity I pledge my soul, to eternity, my love for my people, and to eternity my sword.” Era’s steady voice speaks the words of the vow, her sword flashing I the shadows with deadly cadence.

Niree had taught her how to fight to save a life, and how to take one, yet he still failed to understand Era. He had fought side by side with her in thousands of combats, battles and endless wars. He had shared warmth with her from the cold, he had hungered with her until the supply lines could get through, Niree had shared his deepest secrets and fears with his woman, yet still as a child to him, yet he still could not know what went on behind the eyes of chipped emerald.

Era, still as beautiful as she was deadly, had been the only thing that had taken his mind for the past months. The toned body, heavy red hair bound back with leather strips, the sharp, clear green eyes, and the pale, flawless skin all gave Niree a sense of guilt. He had loved her for so long, for as a teacher does an exceptional student, then as comrades-at-arms, and finally as a man does to a woman. He may be the courageous one when it came to life and death, but in the affairs of love, he was frightened. He was frightened of rejection from his lifelong companion, her trust in him tinged with regret. Niree had thought up thousands of ways to tell how much she meant to him, how much he loved her, and would die a thousand deaths to be at her side for all eternity. He was an old, graying man with only experience in warfare and bringing death. He knew little about how to express his tumultuous feelings to her. He would tell her soon. Soon he would resign himself to her decision of what he meant to her. He had nothing else to live for. His tribal brothers had been killed off long ago, his family lands pillaged and destroyed, and all things dear to him torn away in the grasp of brutal reality. He wanted to be with her for eternity. He glances over to the fire, light dancing against the painted runes of the laeder, his heart aching to tell her.

The harps of war play their songs to the brooding skies, the screams of the war chargers filling the thick, cold air. Era, protected in heavy black battle armor, turns to her troops, releasing the first notes of the Tribute. Behind her, her army, all mounted, all in black armor, were ready to do battle with hardened hearts and empty minds. Their enemy was none other than their own creators, the Sone. Era’s plumed saber stretched out over the defiant enemy, uttering the words of the long-forgotten prayers of her people. She ripped the armor from her, the tradition of the head laeder to go into battle without armor. The pieces of armor fell to the muddy ground, forgotten. She knew she would die this day. Era did not need to look at the opposing army, tall, furred creatures, their minds insane, held only in coherent thought by their own queen methor, to know there was no mercy in their eyes. That was Era’s target, the queen. “For eternity,” she breathed silently, her thoughts amok, then plunged into battle.

The bright red she wore did nothing to hide her, only made her a more obvious target for the arrows of the Sone archers. Even as arrows pierced her neck, slammed into her chest, and ripped her plumes, she refused to stop, the deeper red of blood staining the red cloak. She would continue to struggle with all her human instinct, to fight to live, for her, for her people, and for Niree. The pain from her wounds grew smothering as she continued to cut and slash her way towards the warrior queen. Her breaths became painful, her heart slowing, her life seeping out from her various wounds. The fire in her eyes grew only more brightly as she brought her sharp saber to bear, bringing it down with all her might onto the queen’s thorax. A sharp, biting pain cut into her back. She gasped her last breath, tumbling onto the muddy ground, her eyes growing tired, her body cooling after the heat of battle. The tears she shed were her last. Tears of joy, of relief, and of frustration over matters she could not control, slid down her cheeks.

Niree could only moan as he saw his beloved fall from her horse, an arch of blood spraying up, his fallen angel. He hacked his way to her side, his thoughts frantic, the confessions of his love and reassurances of healing touching his lips. Her last breath passed between her lips in blood. As he fell to his knees, he could only cradle her head, matted with blood, and hold her still-warm hands. Tears splashed on her neck.  A warrior as old as he had lived this long only by leaving everything he cared for behind. He couldn’t imagine Era dead, his beloved. The unspoken words of undying love perished at his lips, as he only rocked and grieved for his laeder, his fallen student, and his beloved. He had lost her to eternity.