Kushiel's Justice - Jacqueline Carey [268]
It was growing late in the day. The light was dimming, the trees casting long shadows. I was tired and cold and hungry. " 'Tis all well and good to admit to mistakes and say there might have been a better way," I said. "Elua knows, I've made enough mistakes of my own. But you'd do it again if you had to, wouldn't you? Kill Dorelei and our son?
"For my people?" Berlik asked. "Yes. We are few. The Maghuin Dhonn will continue to diminish, to mingle and blend with the other folk of Alba. In time, we may become a memory. But we will not be stamped from the face of the earth, all our sacred places destroyed, our magic broken and our lore forgotten. And it may be that we have a role yet to play." He gazed at me with his pale, somber eyes. "You would have done the same. I pray you never have to make such a choice.”
I was silent.
Berlik sighed. "It grows late. Shall we be done with it?”
I swallowed. "I suppose.”
He knelt heavily in the snow. Even kneeling, he was a big man. He bowed his head and murmured a prayer, too low for me to hear, then raised his head and gazed up at me, snow falling on his face, catching in his shaggy black hair. "Let me die like a man. Please.”
I put down the hunting bow and drew my sword.
"Thank you." Berlik smiled, genuine and startling. Somehow he looked humble despite it. There were tears in his pale eyes. He searched my face. "I'm so sorry. I promise you, it was swift. She felt no pain, only a moment's fear.”
I nodded. "I'll try to do the same.”
"My avenging angel," he said. "Thank you.”
I nodded again, unable to speak. Berlik bowed his head. His coarse locks parted, revealing the nape of his neck. My blood beat hard in my veins and hammered in my ears like the sound of bronze wings clashing. I raised my sword high overhead in a two-handed grip. I was Kushiel's scion, here to administer his justice. For the sake of Dorelei, her life cut short too soon. For the sake of our unborn child. For the sake of the love I hoped to deserve.
For the sake of us all.
I was here to accept Berlik's sacrifice and to atone for my own sins. We had both transgressed against the wills of our gods. This was our moment of redemption. The gods had brought us here for a purpose.
And I understood for the first time what it meant that the One God's punisher had loved his charges too well.
"I'm sorry," I whispered.
I brought the sword down hard, hard enough to shear through bone. Berlik's neck gaped and his head lolled. His body slumped. Crimson blood spurted, vivid against the white snow. I raised the sword again and struck a second blow, severing his head from his body. It rolled free. I could see his face. His eyes, framed by the woad claw-marks, were closed.
He looked peaceful.
Blood seeped steadily into the snow from the trunk of his neck, the flow slowing as his heart ceased to drive it. More snow fell from above, flakes drifting aimlessly. A light wind sprang up, stirring the snow on the ground, making it swirl around us. Not a storm, just a breeze. It was pretty, really; or at least it should have been.
Berlik was right. It was beautiful here.
Beneath the shadow of a barren oak tree, I fell to my knees and wept as though my heart were breaking.
Chapter Fifty-Nine
I built a funeral pyre for him.
I didn't know what else to do. I kept his head, shoving it into Urist's leather sack. I couldn't bring myself to boil it down to the skull. I could barely bring myself to look at it. I hung it outside in the trees where scavengers couldn't get it, and let it freeze.
His body, I burned.
It took the better part of a day to gather sufficient wood for the pyre, but at least I had shelter and an ample supply of food. Berlik must have brought down one of those big deer. There was meat enough to last for weeks, and none of it spoiled. Even without the salt, it was cold enough to freeze in the cabin.
I built the pyre with dry branches and deadfalls, and dragged his frozen, headless body atop it. I lit it with the flint striker given to me long