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"My men? How are my men?"
She looked at the field around her. The womenfolk had
lighted fires on the surrounding hills. Many of them,
looking for husbands, brothers, and sons, slipped among the
dead, searching.
"Your men are fine," she lied to him. "Most have
survived." Most had died, killed before the obelisk had been
destroyed, but she couldn't tell him that.
Almost as if the words soothed him, he relaxed. "That's
good," he told her. "Very good. Now that it's over, I can go
to sleep. I'm so tired."
She wanted to scream at him. Wanted to order him not
to give in to death so easily now, but knew it would do no
good. In the fading light, she could see that he looked
peaceful. At ease for the first time since she'd known him,
now that the war was over and the Dark Queen finally
beaten.
She felt him shudder once and realized that he was
gone. Gently, she laid him down and then walked to the
edge of the crater to retrieve the dragonlance. She wanted it
to mark his grave. For a long time she stood looking at him,
silently remembering their sacrifice.
They could have had a few fleeting years together as
husband and wife, but the cost to the world would have
been too great
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