Free Healed by Hope by Jim Melvin Page A

more beautiful—or morose. She couldn’t help but cry.
    Torg wrapped his arm around her slim shoulders and leaned against her.
    “It is time, my love,” he said wistfully.
    “Time?”
    “Time to go home. The desert awaits its king and queen. Will you come with me to Tējo?”
    Laylah patted her belly and smiled. “Is he welcome?”
    “He is a part of you,” Torg said tenderly.
    Jord came beside them. “It is also time for me to go.”
    Torg arched an eyebrow, and Laylah saw that his eyes glistened with tears. “Will we see you again?” the wizard said.
    The Faerie smiled. “I am not long for Triken,” she admitted, “but there are still tasks I must accomplish before I depart this place forever.”
    Then she transformed into Sakuna, the mountain eagle, and sprang into the sky, veering west and then south before vanishing from Laylah’s sight.
    After that, there was no need for Torg and Laylah to hurry, and it took the company three days to march from Kilesa back to Avici. Their arrival thrilled Dalhapa. The Asēkha reported that, as far as she could tell, no fiends still walked this part of the world. Avici was a nearly empty husk, but at least it was no longer dangerous. Torg left control of the city to the Bhasurans and Svakarans.
    “As long as you harm no innocents, you are free to do with Avici as you will,” the wizard said. “The wealth it contains is yours. The Tugars have no desire for dominion over this place.”
    That night, they slept in Avici’s luxurious accommodations, though Laylah was restless. She told herself that the Golden City held too many foul memories for her to ever sleep there comfortably, but she knew in her heart that something other than that was disturbing her. The baby in her belly—though still underdeveloped—gnawed at her awareness. Laylah clung to Torg’s naked body and took comfort in its warmth, but it was painful to touch her belly to his back. Whenever she did, the wizard moaned.
    The following morning, the Tugars and Pabbajja gathered in a massive courtyard in the heart of Avici. Podhana, Rati, Ukkutīka, and the rest of the Asēkhas flanked Torg and Laylah. Bruugash and Gorlong also joined them.
    “The Homeless People have sacrificed much on our behalf, both here and at Nissaya,” Podhana said to his king.
    Torg nodded. “What is it you would ask of us, overlord?” the wizard said to Bruugash.
    “It is the desire of the Homeless People to be homeless no longer,” the overlord said. “For millennia, we have waited for the right time to reclaim Java. Now that the Kojins and most of our other enemies are destroyed, our goal is attainable. Yet our numbers are decimated, and we cannot retake Java alone. We ask that you lend us the aid of the Tugars in cleansing the forest of what evil remains.”
    Laylah expected Torg to offer immediate help and found his response somewhat surprising. “You deserve our assistance, of that there is no doubt,” the wizard said. “But the Tugars are weary and crave the comforts of home. Therefore, I will not order my warriors to you. But any who volunteer are welcome to do so.”
    Laylah expected this to offend the overlord. Without being able to see his face beneath all the hair, it was difficult to read his expression, even if his eyes did appear to wobble with extra intensity. But in the end, the Tugars did not forsake their newfound allies. Thirty score Tugars, led by Ukkutīka, joined the Pabbajja, and they passed over the arch of the southern bridge and marched along Ogha’s western bank toward Java.
    “I wish you well,” Laylah called after them, not sure of what else to say. “I will await you in Anna.”
    The Tugars who had remained with Torg shouted in unison, “Ema! Ema!”
    Less than a bell later, Laylah, Torg, and the remaining Tugars marched out of the southern gates. The Ogha roared alongside them, seemingly disinterested in their presence, but gobs of blood, gore, and rotting undines from the slaughter of