We watched his pyre until all movement stilled, and thin grey light crept over the mountains.
“What of his army?” I asked. “What will become of the men?”
“They are being rounded up as we speak, and told of their captain's sacrifice. After that, they will be bathed and shorn.”
I swallowed hard. “So that they may return to their villages clean and neat, ready to start over?”
“Oh, Z'el, you always make me smile.” The Magician tousled my hair. “Don't be silly. You know the troops complain if there's beard in the soup.”
My heart sank. “But the surrender-”
“Afforded barely enough to serve everyone, and an army marches on its stomach. But, let one of my soldiers dare grouse about portion size, and I’ll see that he joins the course.” He brushed dust from my feathers with long, careless strokes. “You know,” he murmured, “I was just about to turn the army back. Our supplies were getting too low, but now...now I think we'll push on toward the Capitol. Half a dozen armies lay scattered between here and there. With your clever new trick, we can take them all.”
“My new trick?”
“Yes, pet. Just when I think I know you, you go and surprise me with something new.”
The Magician patted my head before turning away and striding toward his tent. He didn't notice me following right behind until he reached the tent flap. “Oh. Still here? Go eat something, have a rest. You look dreadful.”
My shoulders slumped. “Sorry, my lord, but the only rest I've had for days was when I lay dead in a latrine.”
His lip curled at the admission.
“I had hoped to sleep beside you once more.”
“In my bed? No. I won't have it.” He looked me over like a horse at market. “You're filthy, half-starved...” He brought a hand up to his nose. “You even smell like them now.”
“And if I bathed?”
He shook his head. “It's deeper than that. You've let them inside your head, just as you trespassed in theirs. It's changed you. You're not the same angel I sent to spy three days ago.”
His words struck me like a tangible blow. This from my father, my king, my god. “Everything I've done has been in service to you. Every life I cut short-”
“Yes, you've proven yourself useful, but far too dangerous to keep close. I'll have a separate tent set up for you tomorrow. For now...” He waved a hand in the direction of the camp. “Find somewhere else to burrow.” The Magician ducked into his grand tent.
I stood dumb for a moment before following him inside.
“Z'el, what did I just say? Get out!”
“That's it?” I demanded. “I'm not to be your angel anymore, just like that? Now I'm just a plague that you send against your enemies, to garner their trust, raise their hopes and then betray them, over and over again?” I advanced as I spoke, unable to keep the fury from my voice.
“Z'el, calm down-” His hands began to describe arcane runes in the air.
“No. I will not do that again. Never. Again!” I seized his moving hands and pressed them together until the bones crackled.
The Magician cried out.
I saw fear in his eyes for the very first time.
“Stop this!”He commanded. “They have corrupted you, can't you feel it?”
“Yes,” I agreed. “And it feels wonderful.” I gripped both his broken hands in one of mine and closed the other around his throat.
The Magician's eyes went wide. He could utter no charms against me, work no spells. Without them he was just a man like the others, with iron in his veins and finite days.
His face grew red, then purple, and I felt his throbbing pulse slow beneath my fingers.
He opened his darkening lips to spit one last word, spilling strings of spittle alongside the lonely syllable of my name.
Once he was dead, I closed the Magician's eyes and composed his features into an expression of solemn peace. Then, to be sure his death was genuine, I wrenched the head from his shoulders and took it outside.
The patchwork soldiers stared as I lifted the Magician's head high. I don’t know what I expected, be it cheer or cry of rage, but not a sound was uttered throughout the camp. They all stared at the head, and at me, waiting to be told what to think.
“Brothers!” I called, my voice ringing out like a bell. “The man you followed was false! His magic was an illusion; you were his true strength! Without your muscle, your toil, there would have been no victory. But now the war is won!”
This time, when I raised the head into the air, they cheered.
“No longer do you have to follow his orders, or any man’s. No farther must you march. You are free!”
No cheer for that, but I expected such a grand idea would be slow to permeate their half-cooked brains.
“There is no army left to devour, no battle to be won. There is nothing left to do now but turn back.” I swept my gaze over their twisted, rapt faces, and threw my former lord's head at their feet. “I leave at dawn's first light. I suggest you do the same. Nothing awaits us to the West.”
What became of the Magician's head I do not know, though I can guess. It was gone by the time the sun rose, along with most of the camp. Some tents still stood, some fires smoldered, but not a step was taken toward the Capitol, nor any further into the realms of man.
I flew back to the escarpment where Harmon's men had first captured me, and watched the sun rise over the empty battlefield, painting the desolate ground gold.
Alone, I sang for the lost, the saved, and for those who would never know what horrors they were spared because of one fickle, black-winged liar.
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