Among the Fallen

by NS Dolkart

  “Good,” Bandu said. “I talk to Iona about watching Delika and Goodweather then.”

  Criton had begun to nod, but suddenly stopped when he realized what she meant. “Hold on, what? You’re not coming with me, are you?”

  “No,” Bandu explained. “I go with the plains people. They need someone to show them the way and help them be quiet, and you’re no good for that. You need to go with your kind so the Ardismen think you have everyone. So I go. I can talk to Iona now.”

  She saw his face turn sour. “I do this,” she said. “You don’t stop me.”

  “I don’t want to stay with Iona!” Delika said suddenly.

  So she had been listening to the two of them after all. Of course she had. Bandu took Goodweather back from Criton and left him to argue with Delika while she went to ask Iona about watching the children.

  She wondered if Criton would give her any more trouble about joining the plains people when they made their attack. He was probably worried that they wouldn’t let her go with them, but she didn’t think that would be such a problem. She knew she wasn’t a member of their pack, but she also knew they were afraid of her. They called her “witch,” which Iona had said was a bad name for a woman who used magic. That meant they were afraid, she thought. Anyway, Bandu did use magic, and she was used to being called wicked. She suspected that the plains people would be too afraid to say no to her, and that was enough. She didn’t need them to like her – just so long as they did what she said, they could call her whatever they liked.

  They weren’t really one mass, of course. There were many clans from many villages, and she and Criton would have to convince each and every one of them to let her lead them in the raid. When she had sorted out her arrangement with Iona, she made Criton take her with him to talk to those elders. It was long and frustrating and took two full days – the plainsmen preferred to be led by one of their own, and they preferred to be led by a man – but in the end, they agreed just as she had thought they would.

  What convinced them was the story of the weeping house, which many of them had heard from the other Dragon Touched and which Criton told them again anyway, just in case. For all their objections, the story was powerful. It was one thing to be led by a foreign woman, but no one could say they didn’t want to be led by a miracle worker.

  And so, two nights later, Bandu led an army through wet grasses toward the enemy camp. The whole of the army had gone together to a spot maybe half a mile from where the Ardismen had set up tents, so that the scouts would tell their leaders that all the Dragon Touched were coming. Then the Dragon Touched themselves split off, and it fell to her to lead the plainsmen the rest of the way.

  First, she asked the wind for its help in keeping their steps silent. A breeze picked up and began whistling in their ears, blocking out the sound of their shuffling feet. Good. As long as they could still hear the battle when it started, this breeze was their friend.

  They approached as quietly as a three hundred man army could. There was only a sliver of moon, and they stole forward in the darkness, straining their eyes to catch the first light from the Ardisian camp. When they had come as far as Bandu dared, and the lights of the camp were readily visible, she gave the order to stop. She whispered it through the wind, which made many of the plainsmen stare shocked in her direction. But they did all stop, and they did it without anyone having to yell out a command or make a hard-to-see hand signal in the dim light. They would be glad they’d let her lead them.

  The camp looked asleep from here, to Bandu’s surprise. Criton had thought they would be ready for an attack, but apparently he had been wrong. This might be easier than they had expected.

  The Dragon Touched made their attack a few minutes later, and Bandu quickly saw her mistake. The Touched came in unexpectedly from the west, but the Ardismen were far more ready than they looked. A guard sounded the alarm long before the Dragon Touched reached him, and masses of soldiers streamed from their tents fully armed and ready for battle. It wouldn’t take long at all for Criton’s group to be overwhelmed.

  Bandu whispered her command and the plainsmen broke into a run, making no sound except for the pounding of their feet and the laboring of their breaths. The closer they got, the more Bandu wished she had given the order sooner: the Dragon Touched were so, so outnumbered. For all their blazing breath-fires, it wouldn’t be long before the Ardismen killed them all.

  But the tactic worked. The Ardismen didn’t call a second alarm until Bandu and the plainsmen were practically on top of them, and by then it was too late. They weren’t ready for the real army to appear out of the night, running them through from behind. Bandu wasn’t in the front by the time they arrived – the others ran too fast – but she was still there in time to join the battle. She drove her way through the crowd and toward the clump of Dragon Touched, swinging the farming tool she had been given to fight with – a hoe, did they call it? Whatever it was called, she used it to smash people in the head.

  The Ardismen broke quickly, even quicker than she had expected. They made their retreat in total confusion, trampling each other in their hurry to escape. The Dragon Touched and plainsmen cut them down as they fled into the night, slaughtering them by the hundreds. Another battle, another rout.

  We can win this war, Bandu thought. Nobody can stop us.

  22

  Narky

  They had glorious sex that night, and then again the next morning. Now that he had given himself permission, he couldn’t get enough. Ptera had been married before and knew exactly what she liked, which was wonderful since it meant he didn’t have to guess. The morning was also a better time for it, because he liked seeing everything. He sorely missed his left eye – he’d have grown ten more if he could have.

  When they finally stumbled out of the house that morning, they asked the older couple whose bed they had borrowed to witness their wedding. It was a slapdash affair – Narky might have been high priest of Ravennis, but he had no knowledge of the old Laarnan wedding rites, so he had to invent new ones himself. To his secret shame, he modeled them after Bandu and Criton’s ridiculous wedding, with an exchange of vows and a few words connecting the whole thing to their God. He told Ptera and their witnesses that the Lord of Fate had decreed that they should be married long before any of them had even been born, a claim that he was not sure he even believed. It was plausible enough, sure, but did Ravennis really care that much about His servants’ affairs?

  They set out again. Now that Ptera was officially his wife and he was no longer preoccupied with the question of whether or not to marry her, Narky found that he was desperate to know more about her history. He barely knew anything about her! How long had she been married before? What had her first husband been like? Why hadn’t she had any children, if she had all this experience with lovemaking?

  He was going to ask her about all of it – he just hadn’t figured out how to yet. He was still trying not to be too blunt, at least not until she knew him better. Besides which, if he had the chance to improve himself a little bit, and before she could really get to know him – well, he was going to take it.

  To think that the Graceful Servant had thought that marrying Ptera would make him less distracted! Now his thoughts were consumed with the tactics of tact and the dangers of upsetting his bride. What if, over the next few days or weeks, she discovered that she didn’t actually like him? That would mean a miserable life for the both of them, and it also wasn’t terribly unlikely. What did she really know about him? Nothing. No more than he knew of her, anyway.

  But she seemed happy enough so far, and Ravennis below, she was beautiful with her clothes off. Whatever anger he had felt toward her and the Graceful Servant for arranging this marriage, it was gone for now. If it could last, this was the life for him.

  He tried again to imagine what Phaedra might say if he told her which questions he meant to ask Ptera. The question about the children was definitely the wrong one to start with, he was sure she would have
said that much. How about her first husband? No. Questions on that subject might bring up painful memories, besides which, what if her first husband had been better than Narky in every way? It wouldn’t have taken much.

  He had probably been tall. Tall and muscular and manly, and better in bed. He’d probably swept Ptera off her feet, and now she was trying to make do with a mere shadow. She called Narky a boy; her first husband had been a man. Maybe he’d died doing something suicidally brave, like wrestling a lion away from a small child. Or maybe he’d died by drinking too much and falling in a river. That would be better.

  Narky wished she would volunteer something about the man. He didn’t want to have to ask, to open the old wound all by himself. Why couldn’t she make this easy for him?

  What if he made his questions as generic as possible? He didn’t think Phaedra would have objected if he asked a really basic question in a soft tone of voice. How about, ‘Can you tell me about your first husband?’ That was a nice, simple request, not judgmental or prying in any way. He rehearsed it in his head.

  He was about to ask it when Ptera said, “You don’t regret it, do you?”

  “Huh?”

  She sighed. He shouldn’t have made her have to explain herself – that was already a mistake.

  “Marrying me,” she said. “You’re right, I didn’t even talk to you about it before we sprung it on you. And I’m much older than you, and I’ve been married before… is it all right?”

  The question brought back all his resentment, so plainly laying out the reasons that it had been justified. He almost said “No,” and left it at that. Instead, he took his time before answering. Yes, she had done the wrong thing, but hadn’t he been thinking just a few minutes ago about how happy he was with the result? If he drove her away, that would be his own doing, not hers. If he wanted more mornings like this one, he had to find a way to salvage the situation.

  “I don’t know yet,” he said. “I wasn’t angry today until you asked me.”

  “This morning was good, right?”

  He nodded. “Yeah, it was good this morning. So far, it’s not so bad.”

  She sighed again, and seemed to accept that. He didn’t want her to look so unhappy, but then, he also didn’t want her to think that he was no longer mad at all – or that it was all right to cut him out of decisions she made for the two of them.

  “It’s got nothing to do with your age,” he told her. “I’ve got no complaints with your looks or anything like that.”

  She smiled wryly at him. “Thanks, Narky, that’s quite a compliment.”

  He felt his face get hot. “Sorry, I… This is how I talk.”

  “I’d noticed.”

  “You had?”

  She laughed at that, and Narky couldn’t think of anything else to say. She had already noticed how blunt he was – did that mean he should give up on trying to be tactful with her? That would certainly make things easier. Still, he was surprised at how much disappointment was mixed in with his relief. Perhaps he ought to keep trying anyway.

  On the other hand, if she was already aware of his manner of speaking, that sort of gave him permission to ask his awkward questions, didn’t it? He hoped so. As a test, he asked, “What was your first husband like? I know I’m young, but I don’t want to live in his shadow.”

  She raised an eyebrow at him. “You’re not in his shadow, Narky. He barely cast one.”

  “Yeah? I bet he was taller than me, and stronger and everything.”

  “Well, yes.”

  “So?”

  She sighed. “It was no good, Narky. How can I explain it?”

  “Try. Did he hit you or something?”

  She shook her head. “He wasn’t a brute, he just wasn’t right. At all. He married me after Magor’s fertility festival because he said he liked how I looked under him, and I was young enough that I thought it was a compliment. We had a few decent months, but it went sour fast. We just didn’t get along that well, and he was annoyed at how long it was taking me to conceive. He was actively looking for a second wife when he died.

  “He wasn’t cruel,” she added hastily. “He’d have kept supporting me either way. But I wasn’t exactly looking forward to the rest of my life.”

  Narky swallowed. “So… when you say it took you a long time to conceive…”

  “I didn’t conceive at all,” she said tersely.

  “And you were married for…?”

  “Three years.”

  “How did he die?”

  “A man killed him,” she said disgustedly, “in a fight over a woman. His brothers avenged him, and killed both his killer and the girl. Then the girl’s father stabbed one of them, and the priests of Magor had to step in and threaten to eradicate all three of our families before the feud resolved itself. The whole thing was stupid from top to bottom.”

  “Oh.”

  He felt foolish now that he knew the story. “I thought you’d turned to Ravennis out of grief,” he said.

  “Over him? No.”

  “Then…”

  “Even before he died,” Ptera said, “I was starting to question my allegiance to Magor. The God of Strength seemed to want me to be powerless, now and forever. And then suddenly my husband was dead and the Graceful Servant appeared at my door, offering me a place in the church of Ravennis and the eternal protection of a God who cared about me.”

  She smiled with the recollection. “She gave me this name, Ptera, and it suits me better than my old one did. Did you know that I was the first Ardiswoman she converted? She said that our God had special plans for me, and that I would help her build a church that would last for the ages. And now here I am.”

  “Yeah,” Narky said. “Here you are.”

  They fell into silence again. He was going to have to get better at talking to her. They kept starting and stopping, leaving more unsaid than he could really process.

  “Anyway,” he said, “I’m glad you don’t have any children I didn’t know about.”

  “I may not have any with you either, Narky.”

  He shrugged. “We can worry about that later, or never. I’m not ready to be a father yet anyway. I’ve seen a bit of what it’s like.”

  Her expression was priceless, a mixture of shock, confusion, tentative relief. “Really? You don’t care?”

  “What do I want with a baby?” he asked her. “I can barely handle myself right now.”

  She clearly couldn’t tell if he was joking or not. He wasn’t. It was a relief to know that they wouldn’t be following Criton and Bandu’s path any time soon. Gods, how he had hated spending time with that yowler of theirs.

  It might be different with one of his own, of course. Gods knew, Criton and Bandu didn’t seem to have noticed how hideous their child was. Parenthood seemed to cause a sort of blindness in that respect. Even they had noticed how loud it was, though.

  In any case, maybe by the time it came up for him and Ptera – if it ever did – he’d feel differently about it. For now, he wouldn’t have minded a guarantee that she wouldn’t conceive for a little while.

  “So,” he said, “what is Magor’s fertility holiday like?”

  He shouldn’t have asked. Ptera was clearly trying to find a way to avoid the question, or at least avoid telling him all the details.

  “It’s much kinder to men like my first husband,” she said, helpfully leaving off the obvious follow-up, kinder to them than to men like you. “The Graceful Servant called it barbaric, and she wasn’t really wrong. It could be good, though, and it definitely taught me a lot about lovemaking. I’m sure that makes you uncomfortable.”

  It did, but he wasn’t about to admit it. If they had had an orgiastic holiday on Tarphae, he was sure he’d have grown up even more miserable than he had been already.

  “You’re really good at what you learned,” he said diplomatically.

  “Thank you.”

  There was nothing to say to that, so they stopped talking yet again. These frequent silences
were killing him.

  “We should get off the road,” he said after some time, just so he could hear something beside crickets. “We don’t want to meet anyone who will tell Magor’s priests where we are.”

  They did as he suggested. They stopped only at doors marked with the symbol of Ravennis, which grew more common as they traveled farther south. The cult of Ravennis seemed to have grown fastest in the lands between Ardis and its southern neighbor, Anardis. Magor had been widely worshipped in Anardis before His defeat at Silent Hall, and yet the people there lived far enough from their northern neighbor not to feel immediately threatened by Magor’s priesthood. Some doors they found marked with both Elkinar’s moth and the crow of Ravennis. It seemed that, at the very least, Ravennis was rapidly displacing Magor as the secondary God of this area.

  What would Narky’s reception in Anardis be like? Did they still blame the Tarphaean islanders for the destruction of their city at the red priest’s hands? Would Narky be seen as a representative of his God, or as a symbol of their weakness and subjugation?

  He had stalled long enough: he ought to tell Ptera about the last time he’d been to Anardis. The islanders had come there last year after Phaedra broke her ankle, hoping that the priests of Elkinar would be able to heal her. Which they had, sort of. When they had arrived, Phaedra had been completely unable to walk. The high priestess Mother Dinendra had rebroken the bone and set it properly, and now she could walk with a limp.

  The islanders, Narky explained, had had a reputation back then for bringing bad luck wherever they went, but Mother Dinendra had shielded them from those who wished to see them gone. They had spent weeks in the inn across from Elkinar’s temple, visiting every day to help in the rooftop garden or, in Phaedra’s case, to read. But then the army of Ardis had come through the gates, preempting any plans the Anardisians’ king may have had for breaking free of their dominion. The islanders had fled without saying goodbye, leaving the city burning behind them. He didn’t know if Mother Dinendra had survived, or if so, how she felt about the islanders and their “bad luck” now.