Among the Fallen

by NS Dolkart

  It was morning, time for them to help her onto that horse of theirs; the horse they had stolen from the real Iona. Partha considered resisting, but then she decided it might be best to go along, to pretend that everything was fine. She didn’t want to tip her hand too early.

  She was tired of riding that damned horse day in and day out. Her arse was sore. They were trying to tire her out so that she’d give up and they could steal her money. She had gathered it up off the ground, but they had somehow changed it so that it all looked and felt like little rocks and pebbles. They wanted her to give up and abandon it so they could make off with it and turn it back into money afterwards. She was onto their tricks.

  Now the little one was angry at her for some reason, giving her nasty looks as if Partha had done something to her. “Stop looking at me like that, you horrible little girl,” Partha said to her. “What did I ever do to you?”

  “You chased Bandu away,” the girl said sullenly. “You were mean to her. Maybe that’s why she left. I bet you’re happy.”

  “Dessa!” her mother scolded. “How could you say such things to your grandmother? Apologize. Now.”

  “I’m sorry,” Dessa mumbled, obviously not meaning it.

  Was the She-wolf gone, then? Partha hadn’t known. She hadn’t known, and she actually didn’t feel happy about it. She was sure it was a trick – the witch would stay away until Partha couldn’t recognize her anymore, and then she would strike when Partha was defenseless against her. She knew that Partha’s memory was failing, and she was taking advantage of it. Partha tried to resist, but she was already having trouble visualizing the girl. It was fiendish and underhanded, and it played on her weaknesses. If she forgot the She-wolf, forgot to hate her, what would remain?

  Not much, she feared.

  34

  Criton

  It took him far too long to realize that Bandu had really left him, and by that time he had little hope of tracking her down. He spent over an hour wandering through the camp, insisting that she must simply be elsewhere – lingering with Iona while picking Delika up, or visiting Biva and her flock of sheep, or perhaps washing Goodweather’s clothes somewhere nearby. But nobody could remember seeing her, and though he felt her presence when he came to the stream’s edge, he could not tell in which direction she had gone.

  What began as bewilderment quickly turned to panic. She was gone! She had left him! Would she ever come back?

  The others could not understand his desperation. None of the Dragon Touched had liked Bandu except for Belkos’ wife and daughter, and Kilion’s daughter Vella. Speaking of which, Vella had disappeared too. It was Kilion, rather than his son-in-law, who discovered her absence and brought it to Criton’s attention. Kilion looked absolutely sick about it; he was the only person who seemed to care almost as much as Criton did.

  Where had they gone? Had they left together, or was there some other explanation for their simultaneous disappearance? Had one gone in chase of the other?

  He questioned Belkos’ daughter Dessa, who was friends with Vella, but she didn’t know anything. Neither did little Delika, and worse, she seemed viciously glad to have Criton to herself. But he shouldn’t get mad at Delika for that – she was so young, too young to understand or care that his heart was breaking. His panic meant nothing to her.

  Criton wished Bandu hadn’t taken a friend with her. He was increasingly sure that that was what she had done, and it worried him. If she had been alone with Goodweather, she might grow tired and lonely without Criton and come back to him. But like Phaedra, a woman friend would probably encourage her to stay away longer.

  And he deserved it; that was the worst part. He had made a promise to Bandu that he would never take another wife, and then talked openly about breaking that promise for the sake of a political message – and, he had to admit, because he had secretly hoped that Bandu wouldn’t mind the idea of his taking multiple wives. After all, he had thought to himself, the notion of exclusive marriage hadn’t come naturally to her: it had taken Phaedra to explain the concept.

  That secret hope had been quickly dashed, but he had still thought that she would argue, that she would force him to choose her above all others. He hadn’t expected her to forfeit.

  What was the matter with him? He didn’t even want other wives, not really. It may be a good idea politically speaking, but there were other ways to encourage camaraderie between the Dragon Touched and the plainsfolk. And though the idea had intrigued him, he hadn’t taken it all that seriously – and clearly not as seriously as Bandu had. Now he was miserable. He only really wanted Bandu, couldn’t she see that? When would she return to him?

  There was nothing he could do now to bring her back. He wanted to send out a search party, but he knew that if Bandu didn’t want to be found, no search party would find her. Besides, Hessina and the elders wouldn’t approve of his sending such a party. They didn’t want her back. It was all he could do not to scream at them.

  Bandu’s absence only made them press harder for him to take new wives, but he put them off. The very thought made him sick now. It was the threat of his betrayal that had chased her away – if he followed through, he feared that she would never come back.

  At least she knew how to find him. The Dragon Touched were hard to miss, and she knew where he was headed. That was all he had now, the hope that she would seek him out in a month or two and let him apologize to her for what he’d done. Until then, all he could do was to pretend everything was fine, to raise triumphant Delika as if she was his only daughter and to lead his people as if half his soul hadn’t disappeared overnight.

  He led his people back to the Dragon Knight’s Tomb, just as Hessina had suggested, encountering little resistance on the way. The people fled before him, leaving their houses and farms for the protection of Ardis’ walls. The army of Ardis seemed content for now to hide behind those walls as well, and the Dragon Touched reached Dragon Knight’s Tomb without incident. There Hessina asked – or, rather, demanded – that Criton accompany her into the tomb alone. He had less energy for disagreement without Bandu at his side, so he left Delika with his cousin again despite all her protests and ascended the mountain at the old woman’s side.

  At first, Hessina didn’t even talk to him. She knelt by the Dragon Knight’s sarcophagus, praying silently to herself. Criton tried to do the same, closing his eyes and trying to find the words for a prayer. But the only prayer he could think of was please send Bandu back to me.

  At last Hessina shifted, causing Criton to open his eyes. “You wanted to speak to me?” he asked warily. The last thing he needed right now was a lecture, but he was sure he was about to get one.

  “I am sorry for what has happened between you and Bandu,” she said, grimacing as she sat on the hard floor of the cave. “I understand your pain. But you do not have the luxury of grief. You must marry again, and soon. Speak to Kana and the other elders, and marry the women they suggest to you.”

  “I thought you were against intermarriage.”

  She sighed. “Hession was my ancestor,” she said, indicating the tomb. “I’m sure you didn’t know that. Though not Dragon Touched himself, he was married to a Dragon Touched woman, and my lineage traces back to them. Our people have never been pure in that sense – there have always been intermarriages. Despite my reservations, I have come to the conclusion that such intermarriages are necessary for the survival of our people.

  “That means I owe you and Bandu an apology. Though she was not well suited to living among us, you were not wrong to marry a girl from your own island.”

  “You didn’t make her feel very welcome,” Criton said bitterly.

  “I know.”

  “She left me because I was considering listening to you. I promised her when we married that I’d never want another woman, and you made me question that promise. You practically chased her off yourself!”

  She eyed him sternly. “My suggestion was not wrong, Criton. It still isn’t. I think that with
time, you’ll come to understand the wisdom and the necessity of marrying again. You are no longer simply a man, but a symbol. You owe it to your people to marry the women the plainsmen suggest to you, to give us the strength of the plainsmen’s numbers and turn them to our ways. I believe it is for this purpose that God Most High chose you to lead us – I am too old to make political marriages.”

  “Or maybe He chose me because I make better decisions than you do.”

  He had meant to insult her, to make her hurt for the way she was scratching at his wounds, but to his shame and fury, she only regarded him with that disapproving gaze that made him feel like a child, one who could be indulged now and punished later.

  “Your tactical decisions have helped our cause more than they’ve harmed it,” she said. “But this one choice is more important than any of those you’ve made so far. If you do not marry the women the elders suggest to you, our people will suffer.”

  “We’ll see.”

  She spoke on, unfazed. “I do understand your grief, Criton, whatever you may think. A first marriage is special. My husband had no other wives, but from watching others, I can tell you that more wives are unlikely to make you happier. They may dislike each other, or dislike you, and you may well curse us, your elders, for suggesting this course of action. But these marriages are a political necessity. You must realize that.”

  She sighed. “You should know that while I did not especially like Bandu, I did not bear her any ill will. She was an impediment to you politically, but I know her abandonment has hurt you, and I am sorry for that.”

  He hoped she could see the hatred in his eyes. “You knew she’d leave me.”

  “Of course not. But we should look to the future. Our victory is close.”

  “Really? You think we can take Ardis?”

  “God Most High will not abandon us. Now that I am here, I am sure of it. Soon Ardis will fall, and we can make its citizens pay for what they did to us. Which brings us to the second thing I wanted to say. As with your marriages, I want to be sure that you understand what we must do, and why.”

  That sounded ominous. “Has the plan changed? When we take Ardis, we’ll reward our allies and settle in to live as we used to.”

  “No,” the old woman said, her face grim. “It will not be the way it used to. We used to live in relative peace, protecting the king and protected by him as well. Now there can be no peace, not so long as the worshippers of Magor live within those walls. They slaughtered us, Criton. You were never here to weep with us at our losses, but there is no punishment too severe for those who killed our people.”

  Criton recoiled from her. “What are you saying? You want us to slaughter the whole city? We’re not monsters. The goal is to live in Ardis righteously, not to destroy it ourselves!”

  Hessina shook her head. “We cannot live with the Ardismen after what they did to us. I had five sons, Criton. Five. Eight grandchildren. Kilion was my youngest, the only one I was able to save. All the others were killed – my sons, my daughter, and all their children and babies. We cannot coexist with the Ardismen. As long as we live, they will be our enemies. As long as they live, they will be a danger to us. They will dream of murdering us in our beds.”

  Criton said nothing. The story of Hessina’s family – even the short version – was devastating. He had once witnessed the red priest executing an entire family. He had watched children die then, and the horror had been unfathomable. But now, as a father, these things affected him so much more deeply. The reality of Hessina losing her children and grandchildren was so overwhelming it robbed him of his power of speech. He nearly burst into tears thinking of those children, and of his own daughter now absent. Goodweather had been a frustrating chore right up until the moment that she became a hole in his heart.

  It was that pain that brought him back. He shook his head, choking on his grief and on hers. Hessina was justified in her hate, but she was also wrong. She could not ask him to inflict her experiences on other parents, other grandparents. Whatever she said, he would not accept that as the only way.

  Hessina was studying him. “You’ve given me a lot to think about,” he told her. “I’ll ask God Most High for guidance, but you should know that I disagree with you. I’m not going to become the kind of killer Bestillos was. Not willingly, anyway. If I can find a new arrangement with the Ardismen, a peaceful one, I’ll take that peace over the kind of victory you’re hoping for.”

  “This is the victory we have all been hoping for,” Hessina said vehemently. “Our people will not settle for less.”

  Criton frowned. “Then I’ll have to convince them. Maybe this is why God Most High chose me to lead the Dragon Touched – because I’m willing to make peace with our enemies when others won’t.”

  The old woman’s eyes flashed. “Nobody who grew up before the purge will accept your position on this, Criton. You are young and idealistic, and foolish. Don’t imagine for a moment that your stance will be popular.”

  “Thank you for your guidance,” Criton said acidly. Then he closed his eyes and pretended to pray so as to cut off any more communication.

  Bandu would be happy with his position when she found out. She had never believed this war was necessary, and would never have endorsed the slaughter of an entire city. If by some miracle he succeeded and the Dragon Touched made peace with their enemies, she was bound to hear about it and come back to him.

  Wasn’t she?

  35

  Phaedra

  They came through the mists right into the courtyard of Silent Hall, where they were greeted with cheers by Atella’s people. Psander was there too, looking both pleased and astonished at Phaedra and Hunter’s presence. “Oh, well done, Atella,” she said, and to Phaedra added, “I did not expect you two to be on Tarphae – what were you doing there?”

  “We’d been taken there,” Phaedra answered. “Karassa has turned our home into a haven for pirates. Without God Most High’s protection, we’d have been sacrificed to Her as soon as we touched shore.”

  “And yet here you are.”

  “Here we are.”

  Psander took Atella’s bag and thanked her. “You surpassed my expectations, and even my hopes.”

  Phaedra found herself a bit overwhelmed. This was so much more a homecoming than she had expected, certainly more a homecoming than their return to Tarphae had been. Even the villagers, once suspicious of the Tarphaeans for their association with the Gallant Ones, now looked on her and Hunter with admiration and hope. The whole group of them had gathered to witness Atella’s return through the mists, and they looked just as happy with Phaedra and Hunter’s surprise appearance as Psander did.

  It was early morning here, unlike on Tarphae, which confused Phaedra somewhat. The hours of the two worlds had been more or less aligned before, from what she could remember. Had she been wrong about that, or had the release of Salemis somehow thrown this alignment off?

  A young boy spoke up. “Are you here to save us?”

  It was a heartbreaking question, and one that Phaedra did not know how to answer. If the situation was as dire as Phaedra feared it was, nothing could save these people.

  Hunter stared at her. He’d been waiting for her to answer, she realized, and her hesitation had already caused a ripple of fear to spread through the crowd. He turned to the boy. “Yes,” he said. “We’re here to save you.”

  The tension remained among the adults, but the boy smiled. “Good. We need you.”

  You need us most of all, Phaedra thought. The boy was right around the age that elves preferred for their food.

  It was good to see the villagers looking so lively. The last time Phaedra had seen them, they’d all been too weak to stand. So far, the move into the fairies’ world seemed to have done them more good than harm. The trouble was that they couldn’t expect it to last.

  How reckless of Hunter, to say that they were here to save these people! They were neither of them some devastating weapon that could hold the elves
at bay. Psander’s interest in them as such was a mark of her desperation. And yet, looking at Hunter’s face, Phaedra was surprised to see confidence there. It might make no sense, but he clearly believed himself. He thought he could save them.

  Perhaps this was what Hunter needed, what he’d been looking for all along. He had wanted to lead the army of Tarphae once, and when that dream had died, he had fought to protect the remaining islanders from whatever dangers they encountered. Now Psander’s villagers needed rescuing from the elves, who meant to capture them and breed them and eat their children. What better fight could Hunter join?

  They broke their fast all together in the courtyard, joined even by Psander. She had apparently been much less aloof from the villagers since revealing her true nature to them, and a sort of camaraderie had developed in the months since then. Hunter asked the villagers about their interactions with the elves so far, and Phaedra was relieved to hear that nobody had yet been taken. As Atella had told them, Psander had set up wards that alerted the villagers whenever elves were near, and they would flee for the protection of Silent Hall any time the alarm sounded. What protection the walls offered them was unclear, but Psander’s reworking of her God-evading wards had apparently been effective so far. Phaedra hoped she would explain how she’d done it.

  When they had finished with their meal, Psander asked Phaedra and Hunter if they would like to speak privately with her. To Phaedra’s shock, Hunter declined. He was polite about it, but firm: he preferred to stay with the villagers. Phaedra was left to talk to Psander alone.

  As they walked to the wizard’s library together, Psander asked her to explain how she and Hunter had come to be once more on Tarphae. So Phaedra told her of the events of the last few months, and of her ambition to recreate academic wizardry for herself.

  “I am glad you came here,” Psander said, “and it is a great relief to know that God Most High sent you. My old mentor was right, then: the dragons’ God is alive and well, and growing more active in the world. If that is so, and He sent you to me with His blessing, then there is hope after all. I had grown desperate.”