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Twilight.<\/p>\n Two men on the snow.<\/p>\n Tsung’s thoughts jumbled,<\/p>\n snow below him, above him,<\/p>\n branches thickened by white.<\/p>\n King Xau bent over him,<\/p>\n blood trickling from the king’s shoulder.<\/p>\n Red blood, white snow<\/p>\n as Tsung drifted in and out,<\/p>\n the king’s hands on his stomach–<\/p>\n pressure, no pain–<\/p>\n the king trying to hold together<\/p>\n what could not hold.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Little sign left of the boy<\/p>\n that king had been,<\/p>\n the boy Tsung had been given charge of,<\/p>\n seven years ago–<\/p>\n un-muscled, unassuming,<\/p>\n easy to underestimate.<\/p>\n As Tsung had done.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n “Leong!” Xau’s hands on him,<\/p>\n the king shouting. “Leong! Help!”<\/p>\n <\/p>\n But Leong not there,<\/p>\n none of the other guards there–<\/p>\n Tsung’s fault–<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Sun sinking, setting,<\/p>\n now the colors gone<\/p>\n except the red trickling<\/p>\n from the king’s shoulder.<\/p>\n Hard to breathe,<\/p>\n to shape a word.<\/p>\n “Xau?”<\/p>\n <\/p>\n “Don’t try to speak,” said Xau.<\/p>\n “Leong will come–“<\/p>\n <\/p>\n “Xau. Leave me.”<\/p>\n <\/p>\n “No.” Flat.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n “I’m dying. Leong can’t help.”<\/p>\n Each word a battle.<\/p>\n “Xau, bind up your shoulder. Go.”<\/p>\n <\/p>\n “No.”<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Both of them silent, then the king:<\/p>\n “We will not leave you to die alone.”<\/p>\n <\/p>\n A puny boy, Xau,<\/p>\n not a natural warrior.<\/p>\n Unlike his father, his eldest brother.<\/p>\n But Xau had acquitted himself well today.<\/p>\n Had fought as Tsung had taught him.<\/p>\n Efficient, effective.<\/p>\n Two of them against seven.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n The boy. A boy no longer. The king.<\/p>\n Twilight.<\/p>\n Tsung tried to sort out time:<\/p>\n he’d told the other guards<\/p>\n to set up camp,<\/p>\n had walked into the forest<\/p>\n with the king–<\/p>\n stupid, no backup, Tsung’s fault.<\/p>\n A mile? Two miles?<\/p>\n before he’d told the king<\/p>\n he’d be stepping down as captain.<\/p>\n How far? How far did they walk?<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Cold now.<\/p>\n The press of the king’s hands.<\/p>\n Seven men who fought like soldiers,<\/p>\n pale-skinned Innish men.<\/p>\n Maybe brigands who’d crossed the border.<\/p>\n Clear that the seven hadn’t guessed who Xau was.<\/p>\n Mere bad luck to run into them.<\/p>\n No, not bad luck, Tsung’s fault,<\/p>\n because he’d ordered the other guards<\/p>\n to stay behind,<\/p>\n had wanted (stupidly) to speak<\/p>\n to the king alone.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Darker,<\/p>\n twilight fading,<\/p>\n and, at the last, pain after all.<\/p>\n As if the sword<\/p>\n were in his belly still. Twisting.<\/p>\n Tsung turned his head,<\/p>\n out of breath,<\/p>\n sucked in air.<\/p>\n A dark puddle under him.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n “Leong!” Xau’s hands pushing, hurting<\/p>\n –why was the king hurting him?–<\/p>\n the king shouting, “Leong! Here! Help!”<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Tsung shaped a word.<\/p>\n No breath in him to sound it.<\/p>\n The pain hard to bear,<\/p>\n hard to keep his eyes open.<\/p>\n He looked at Xau, his king,<\/p>\n his king whom he loved.<\/p>\n No breath to tell him so.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n “Tsung.” Xau’s voice very gentle.<\/p>\n “You were a better father to us–“<\/p>\n The king stopped, restarted.<\/p>\n “A better father to me<\/p>\n than my father ever was.<\/p>\n Tsung? I love you.”<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Tsung closed his eyes for a moment.<\/p>\n ________________________________________<\/span><\/p>\n![\"\"](\"http:\/\/www.heroicfantasyquarterly.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2020\/01\/Jumble-Mary-Lee.jpg\")
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