“Not as far as Suria, no!” Tellan exclaimed through a grin and ruffled her hair in fond jest, “Don’t be silly, girl, that’s halfway across the world!”
Reya smiled crookedly in return and looked upon him with such affection, until she placed her head back upon his chest and whispered, “It felt that long.”
A little stab of guilt pierced Tellan’s heart then, as it always did whenever he heard the baby bird cheep of sorrow within her timid voice. He sought for something to say to her, anything that would soothe the sensation that he had disappointed her gentle heart, and a familiar wish rushed into his head like a high tide that he could abandon this way of life and stay with her. But within that embrace, Reya’s fingertips brushed against the harness that kept Tellan’s bastard sword strapped upon his back, and as the sensation of her touch grounded him, he closed his eyes with a smile at his own sentimentality.
The excitement within Reya’s soft voice broke the spell of Tellan’s wistful thoughts as she asked with a newfound burst of excitement, “But you are staying for dinner, aren’t you? Please say you are! There’s so much I want to ask you about!”
Tellan glanced down at her and grinned with amusement at the wild beauty within Reya’s astonishing violet eyes. The rare splendour of those irises against her porcelain skin was never lost on him and it left him breathless with pride. “Perhaps, Reya,” he answered cautiously and as she pouted in childish rebuke, he continued, “but I’ve come to see your father first.”
Reya’s eyes dulled slightly and she looked away. “Oh…” She uttered and as she pulled away from Tellan completely, she nodded towards the house that sat in wait behind them, “Papa’s inside.”
Tellan made to move off, but when he registered the flat note that soured the fluted tones of Reya’s voice, he faltered and gazed down with a concerned furrow of his brow. “What’s wrong, love?” He asked her gently.
Reya shrugged, still with her gaze focused on the leaves that lay in a ragged, haphazard pile beside her feet, “Nothing.” She muttered.
Tellan’s eyes flickered across her slight frame; she stood with her slender shoulders drooped, her hair fallen to hide her expressive and exquisite eyes and he knew then that her words were contradictory. “Reya?” He insisted gently, but without intimidation.
Reya looked up at him with her eyes wide and the corner of her mouth ticked in a reticent smile. Uncle Tellan never had to cajole Reya into confiding her secrets in him; just the soft tone of his voice always instilled a sensation of safety within her and it emboldened her to unburden her heart.
“It’s…it’s Papa,” she mumbled and glanced down nervously at her fingers as she played with her nails distractedly, “I don’t think he’s terribly happy with me.”
Tellan’s head jerked back almost imperceptibly at the unusual observation she had made, but as stunned as he was at her words, his voice remained soft as he asked, “Whatever for?”
Reya’s mouth ticked from side to side and when she finally looked up at Tellan, her eyes were reticent as she admitted, “I don’t know. I think it’s because I’ve been…keeping him awake lately.”
Tellan observed Reya for a moment in silence and her discomfort was so heart–breaking that he asked, “Are you sure, my love? Have you asked him?”
Reya shrugged once more and mumbled, “No, not really. I don’t like it when Papa’s mad at me.”
Tellan sighed and as he affectionately tucked a strand of soft, golden hair behind her ear, he replied with a reasonable tone, “Come now, Reya. I’m sure he wouldn’t be. You know your father loves you more than anything.”
Reya sighed at length and opened her mouth to speak to him once more, but a deep, powerful voice from within the house rumbled through the autumn breeze and halted her before she could utter a word.
“Tellan! Well met, my friend!” The voice cried with cheerful warmth.
Tellan looked up at the source of the voice and as he smiled at Reya’s father, who watched the pair with eyes crinkled in contentment from the door, he flipped a casual salute in greeting, “And you, Baldur!”
Baldur nodded in return and reached for the cloth he had draped over his shoulder. “Can I offer you a drink, Tellan? You must be parched after your journey.”
Tellan hiked his head with eyebrows raised in anticipation and replied, “Offer away, brother and I’ll gladly take you up on it.”
Baldur laughed heartily in response. “Good man.” He said and disappeared back into the house.
Tellan glanced down at Reya once more and as he took her head in his hands, he kissed her forehead tenderly. “I’ll talk to him.” He said reassuringly.
Reya’s eyes flashed up at him then, clear of the trepidation that had all but filled those violet depths so completely at the thought of her father being upset at her. Before Tellan moved away however, he patted his chest theatrically and muttered softly under his breath, “I’m sure there was something – oh, yes!”
Reya’s eyes widened in anticipation as Tellan pulled a slim, grey bound book from within his dog–eared overcoat and when he handed it to her, she gasped as though he had offered her the most precious of jewels.
She gathered it close to her chest like a mother with a newborn and rushed out excitedly, “Oh, Uncle Tellan! Thank you so much!”
Tellan smiled indulgently at how wonderful a pleasure such a simple book of poetry could bring and as Reya picked up her skirts in exuberance, she scampered to the base of the tree. Her nose became buried in the book as soon as she sat upon the leafy ground, cross legged in the boyish fashion Baldur had tried so hard to train her out of. Tellan shook his head fondly at how eagerly she clasped the book as she devoured its offerings, and made for the house to commence his original intention behind his visit.
“Forgive me, Baldur,” he said as soon as he was through the door, “I was giving Reya a new book.”
Baldur corked the bottle of liquor he had filled two glasses from, while Tellan removed his bastard sword with a barely audible grunt and laid it down upon the small, worn kitchen table.
“Not at all.” Baldur replied as he made his way over to him. He held out an enormous hand with an offering of a drink for Tellan, the tumbler tiny in Baldur’s huge palm, and added, “Your gift is a well–timed distraction.”
Tellan raised his glass in a hail to his host and noted the ominous words and tone of Baldur’s last remark as he raised the liquor to his lips. He sighed in gratitude at the fiery sweetness that warmed his chest and glanced at Baldur carefully as the big man sat down on one of the kitchen chairs that creaked precariously under his weight.
“That’s part of why I’ve called you here today.” Baldur added with a rumbled voice as Tellan sat on the rickety chair beside him, the corner of the table between the two men. Baldur exhaled at length through his nostrils as he leaned his great forearms along the table, and the corded muscles that spoke of barely dormant strength twitched as he rolled the glass between his palms distractedly.
Tellan could see the turmoil within his old friend’s grizzled face and thought on what he should say to him that could assuage his temperament. But he had a promise to fulfil and so he said carefully, “Reya’s taken it into her head that you’re unhappy with her.”
Baldur closed his eyes with a heavy flutter and issued a great sigh that seemed as though it grew from the very roots of his heart. “I could never be angry with her.” He murmured with such gravity that Tellan’s eyes dropped to the table top guiltily.
Baldur then stood and moved towards the window, his eyes soft as he looked upon his daughter, who had become entirely lost in her world of poetry underneath her favourite tree. Tellan watched as Baldur reached out and placed his fingertips tenderly against the window pane, as though he could stroke her silken cheek through the very glass.
Tellan observed Baldur in silence then, moved at how the love Baldur felt towards his daughter was so strong, that it exuded from the man’s enormous back with the power of an aura. Ever
ything about Baldur conveyed strength and honour: from the noble timbre of his voice, to his titanic stature and huge hands. But whenever he looked at his child, Tellan could see nothing but the purest adoration in those proud blue eyes, and the comparison to the love he himself held for Reya always humbled him.
Tellan had loved Reya with all his heart from the moment she had been born, but Baldur’s trumped his own beyond any measure and Tellan couldn’t help but feel sorrow that a father’s love would be one that he could never experience for himself.
Baldur’s great voice jolted Tellan from his thoughts. “The truth is, Tellan, I am concerned.” He said and as his mouth searched for an explanation, his eyes dropped disconsolately in silence.
Tellan stared at him in wait until it became clear that Baldur was at a loss and so he shifted nervously in his seat and murmured, “What is it?”
Baldur’s head bowed then and as he turned his face slightly towards Tellan, he continued gravely, “Reya has begun to see what lies beyond this plane.”
Tellan blinked in shock and his mouth sought for the words that his mind couldn’t grasp, as though he had been doused in ice water that froze his tongue solid. “How is that possible?” He asked numbly, aware that it was an idiotic question in the face of such a gargantuan statement of fact.
Baldur shook his head and his chuckle was ironic as he turned to Tellan fully. “I don’t know.” He replied. He then frowned and his voice was quiet as he added darkly, “Her nightmares…barely a night passes that she doesn’t have them.” His mouth became a grim line then as he finished at an uneasy murmur, “She sees through my eyes.”
Tellan’s eyes scoured the scratched and worn table between his hands, as though the knotted surface could show him the answers he sought to the questions he didn’t know how to ask. His eyes snapped back up to Baldur’s and he asked, “Are you certain of what she sees?”
“Come now, Tellan.” Baldur began in a tone that approached admonition and regarded the man that had once been his second in command, from a time that seemed both only yesterday and so long ago.
“She…relives your memories?” Tellan asked with eyes squinted in incomprehension.
“They’re certainly not her mother’s.” Baldur retorted softly with a wry smile that belied his discomfort, “The names she speaks, the beginnings and ends of certain battles…there’s no way it could be otherwise.”
Baldur then closed his eyes in pain as he turned back towards the window and as he gazed upon his daughter once more, he added at a near whisper that sounded as though its very utterance bruised his heart, “You should hear how terrified her screams are. It tears me apart.”
Tellan remained still in spite of the flash of worry that thronged through his heart, for even though he had no answers he could possibly give, he was certain that silence was better than useless platitudes and limp reassurance.
Baldur passed a hand over his face in weary concern and blurted, “For the life of me, Tellan, I don’t know what I should do! I’ve never spoken to her of…before she was born. I wouldn’t even know where to begin! How can I? She is an impossible child, one that should not be!”
Tellan nodded sagely as he tried to digest the enormity of what he had just been told, but it loomed over his mind like the shadow of a titan and was almost too much for him to absorb. It was true that Reya’s very existence was the greatest miracle to have happened across all the planes, throughout time itself.
Baldur turned back to the window once more and his breath hitched in his throat at the innocent curiosity that filled Reya’s face as she watched a caterpillar in its ponderous journey along an orange coloured flower.
“By the Light, Tellan, I love that girl with everything I am. Sometimes I look at her and I’m speechless at how beautiful she is.” He murmured in stunned tones.
Tellan dropped his eyes to the floor, for he was suddenly unsure of what he could say in return; he was still staggered at the sensation that the girl he called niece was on the teetering precipice of waking up to who she truly was. “She has her mother’s spirit.” He finally said, but the words felt fumbled and inept past numb lips.
“Aye…” Baldur replied as his enormous hands gripped the edge of the kitchen counter he stood at, “But I fear she has inherited her father’s soul. And if she has, then I’m not sure what that means for her safety.”
“Her safety?” Tellan asked as his head snapped up with a frown that convulsed across his brow, so unexpected such a statement was, “You think she’s no longer safe in Fieldhaven?”
“Not as such, no.” Baldur began hesitantly and he grimaced awkwardly as he tried to put the fear of a father into words, “But how long will it take for her Light to be noticed?”
“Why would it be noticed? Mortals aren’t attuned to–” Tellan broke off suddenly. His eyes narrowed thoughtfully as he speared his gaze upon Baldur’s back, as though the force of his stare alone was enough to reveal the secrets of his commander’s heart. But such a feat was unnecessary, given the stiffness in those broad shoulders and Tellan’s eyes skewed shrewdly as he asked, “What aren’t you telling me, Baldur?”
Baldur rubbed his face, shamed slightly that his lieutenant knew him so well that words weren’t necessary to understand that a greater worry troubled him.
His voice was grave when he finally rumbled, “Reya spoke Belial’s name.”
Tellan’s eyes flared open and as his fist curled tightly upon the table at the sound of their greatest enemy’s name, he ground his teeth against the sudden surge of hot rage that filled his throat like fire. It was true that Baldur had never spoken to Reya the truth of his past, neither had Tellan out of fear that such knowledge would have left her frightened and hurt. For theirs was an exceptional story that spanned centuries and it was one that those who lived on the plane of Midgard wouldn’t understand.
Baldur and Tellan were two of many angelic warriors bound to the Legion of Asgard; every one of their brethren lived and breathed by their unshakable vow of protecting the planes and their many denizens from the potent taint that was the Dark of the Abyss. The demonic plane of the Abyss commanded a powerful army of their own however, and in their everlasting desire of conquering the planes, the mortal realm of Midgard had become threatened. But one of the Abyssal dark princes, Belial, held an evil ambition of his own that looked far beyond the meagre offering that was the plane of Midgard: he desired the celestial plane of Asgard for himself. Not just Asgard, but its very Light, and with its incredible power he would have ruled on high as a demon king, spreading the destructive taint of his Dark across the planes.
The War Beyond had been born then and ferocious in their honour, the Legion of Asgard had met the Abyssal army head on in a terrible war that had claimed the Light of many angels and the Dark of many demons. Far beyond their eyes, the denizens of Midgard never had any indication that their world had been engulfed in such overwhelming peril.
“Belial.” Tellan repeated through an iron hard jaw, his voice a gravelled snarl at the memory of the demon prince that had eluded the justice of his vengeance.
“Yes.” Baldur affirmed gravely as he turned and faced Tellan with burning eyes. The two men stared at one another in an electric silence that was pregnant with apprehension, for the mention of Baldur’s nemesis was not a light matter for anyone of the Legion of Asgard.
Tellan could remember every detail of the monumental battle when Baldur and Belial had finally crossed steel, so ferocious and vicious had it been. And he remembered the moment when his commander’s mighty great axe had descended to claim justice in the name of the Light. But when the demon prince had realised his fate had been inevitable at Baldur’s hands, he had outstretched his arms and Fallen. Baldur could still feel the tight constriction of his heart as he had watched his nemesis Fall towards Midgard and he still felt a heavy pride in his own reaction, for he hadn’t hesitated when he had made the decision of Falling after Belial himself.
A demon’s influence was a powerf
ul taint indeed, but a demon prince held an even greater Dark and Baldur had known that, in spite of the mortality that Falling brought, Belial would have still sought to lay waste to Midgard. They had fought again on mortal soil, but Belial had been a foe not to be underestimated and as he had matched the great axe’s ferocious strikes with his own, their battle had seen Baldur wounded greatly. Before Belial could land his final strike, however, Baldur had looked to the sky and his heart had soared with sorrowful pride at the flashes of lightning that had torn through the clouds. Tellan, his second in command, had loyally followed his commander’s Fall, completely steadfast in his acceptance that in doing so had made him mortal. Tellan had battled Belial further to keep Baldur protected and with the sparking streaks of two more comets that ripped across the night sky, the Line of Baldur had become reunited. Tellan, Timran and Jenko had battled on heroically, but the demon snake had fled before Asgardian justice could have been delivered. It still remained a great source of shame for Tellan that he hadn’t slain Belial that night.
But justice did eventually fall upon the demon when the four angels had found him taking refuge within an abandoned castle on the southern coast and a monumental battle had ensued. The fight had been gruelling, long and ferocious, but as mortal as Belial had become, he had still held tremendous Abyssal cunning, and had laid traps in wait for the Line of Baldur.
Tellan would never forget that moment when the crumbling lip of the courtyard Belial and Timran had fought upon had given way, and the pair of them had fallen in a tumble of rubble and limbs. Baldur had wanted to stay, to recover Timran’s body…but the winter sea had been strong that night and no sign had been left upon the rocks below but the red stain that washed into the lapping waves. Jenko’s wounds had been too severe to have been left untreated and so the three surviving angels had hobbled away, a truly bitter victory against their mortal enemy.
The Fallen Page 2
