The confrontation is short-lived. Damin deals with his opponent swiftly and then finishes off the one swinging his club at Lyra. She is nimble, dancing ever out of reach. Kay simply lobs the head of his assailant off, sending it rolling into the dark while the body crumbles before him. The man has skill with a sword.
Hanna and Joseph have it harder. The Messengers are able to defend themselves, but clearly have no idea how to attack to finish it. Quickly I sent my opponent into the netherworld of Arc and move to aid them.
Heaving, we stand in various poses. Bodies surround us.
Lyra whispers, “Unfortunately the residents here have now grown by another six.”
She refers to ability the Glonu have to live in ethereal form. I nod. “Soon, but at least these were not soldiers.”
Kay stares at a twisted form on the ground. “I knew him. He was a date farmer. I did not know him well, but liked him.”
Siri mumbles under her breath and then, aloud, she says, “We must bury them.”
Sheathing my sword, I return to the fire. “No need. The bodies will dissipate by morning.”
Lyra frowns. “Is that what happened in the past? In battle you left the fallen on the field and they dematerialised?”
I glance at her. “Glonu fallen, yes. Ilfin remained intact and required pyres.”
Arms akimbo, she demands, “So what happens if we do bury them?”
I stare at my sister. “Nothing.”
“Exactly, Horin. Nothing.”
Damin understands her point first. “If we bury them they cannot transform into the ghosts of Arc.”
She nods emphatically. Still staring at her, I realise she is right. By the stars. By all the blood red and sapphire blues out there, if we had buried the fallen Glonu in time, few would now roam in this shielded realm.
“We bury them,” I state.