Aeron let his dagger drop and dashed to Mellonin, who stood beside Gwyllion, who was sprawled prone on the floor. He dropped to his knees and cradled her in his arms. His sister...Gwyllion. He rocked back and forth, trying to stop the hot tears that clung to his lashes. "Gwyllion...why...why..." he choked.
She was stabbed...he hoped that the merlock who had slain her had been killed, preferably by his hands. Her fear of blood...what must she had thought when she saw her life blood pouring from her leg...the terror the fear. He hugged her, and rested his chin against her head.
"Gwyllion," he whispered, "do you remember when father left us? And how you loved him so much that you thought he'd come back? When I stole my first ring, and we celebrated with creamy milk and cheese in the finest inn? Gwyllion, why did you have to die? You could have had such a life...full of joy...and song. I was going to give you a harp...so that you could sing songs and tales..."
He heard Ravion behind, asking Gwyllion to do something...didn't he know?
"Aeron. Gwyllion...is she..." his voice trailed off, as if he too feared the dreaded truth.
Aeron bit his lips, and picked his sister up. "What do you think?" he asked...his voice cracked and hollow.
"We'll have to bury her," said Ravion quietly.
Aeron tried to breathe. He tried to nod. The hot tear fell down his cheek.
|