It seems like she’s been waiting for Marie to leave. She crosses to my bedside and immediately snatches me into a fierce hug. I feel a terrible pinch in my wrist and try not to squeal from the pain. She finally lets me go and pulls back. Her eyes are sad, but she smiles and kisses my cheeks, then my lips.
“What was that for?” I ask.
“For saving Rodrigo,” she replies. “And me, and Selvie, and everyone else.”
I swallow. “I couldn’t save everyone.”
“You saved the ones you could.”
There is an awkward silence, and I feel like I should say something. Nothing comes to mind. I feel the knot between my shoulders begin to fade, realizing that Bellara has given me an absolution that I didn’t know I sought. I take a deep breath, but Bellara shakes her head. She closes the door, and returns to me, climbing into the tiny hospital bed. The movement brings pain.
I do not object.
“What are . . . ?” I begin to ask.
She puts a finger against my lips and lays her head on my shoulder. We lie quietly for several minutes and I am about to speak again when I smell something strange.
It takes me a few moments to place the scent. It smells of spring wildflowers in the lower Bavares, the scent of soil laid bare to the world after the melting of the snow. I hear birdsong, startling me, and when I look for the source of the sound I am no longer in a hospital in Bava. I lie on a grassy, lowland field, the dark green of wild pastures splashed with the brilliant colors of spring spread out for as far as the eye can see. A brook bubbles nearby.
My bed is now a patterned sheet laid on the dewy grass. There is a picnic basket at our feet.
I look down at Bellara. Her head is still on my chest, her eyes closed. I know this is an illusion, but it feels so real I want to cry. Bits of propaganda float through my head—admonitions against wasting sorcery on anything but the war effort. I discard them and put my good arm around Bellara, and allow myself to fade to sleep with dreams of peace.
About the Author
Photograph by Emily Bischoff
BRIAN McCLELLAN is an American epic fantasy author from Cleveland, Ohio. He is known for his acclaimed Powder Mage universe and essays on the life and business of being a writer. Brian now lives on the side of a mountain in Utah with his wife, Michele, where he writes books and nurses a crippling video game addiction.
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BOOKS BY BRIAN MCCLELLAN
THE POWDER MAGE
Promise of Blood
The Crimson Campaign
The Autumn Republic
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Forsworn
Servant of the Crown
Murder at the Kinnen Hotel
In the Field Marshal’s Shadow
The Mad Lancers
Ghosts of the Tristan Basin
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