In Other Lands

by Sarah Rees Brennan

Luke pulled his sword free, leaned his face and his free arm against the rock, and was suddenly sick. Elliot realised, after a stunned instant, that though Luke was past master at any number of instruments of death . . . he didn’t think that Luke had ever actually killed anyone before. That was how all Luke could do, all he was celebrated and adored for, ended up: these dead bodies in the dry path before them. Elliot grabbed the child’s hand tightly as Luke was gripping the hilt of his sword and went over to where Luke stood braced against the wall. He leaned against Luke, rested his cheek against Luke’s arm. He could feel Luke shaking. “You saved her,” he said. “You did it. The child’s safe. They didn’t hurt her, because of you.” It probably didn’t matter much in comparison, but he figured it couldn’t hurt to add: “I’m safe too. You did everything you could.” Luke took a deep shuddering breath. “Yeah?” Elliot took a step back and nodded nervously and so vigorously his hair tumbled in his face, a blinding red tangle, and he had to shake it out. By the time he had, Luke was smiling faintly—Luke thought Elliot’s total inability to deal with his hair was really funny, which Elliot resented usually but was grateful for this once—and then Luke swiped a hand over his eyes.