The Fallen

by R. L. Drummond

  Vella returned Jenko’s gaze with a careful expression, trying to block out the pain of Tellan’s treatment as he stitched her wound closed. “At first I didn’t know what she was talking about, but she was adamant the message had come from me.” She explained and with a tilt of her head, she continued meaningfully, “And, you being you, Jenko, I figured that meant you were in some kind of trouble.”

  Vella then huffed and gestured hopelessly at Tellan as he tied off the suture, “But I didn’t expect this. I think you’ve got both some explaining to do. Why were you in Dahlia, Tellan? And how do you know Reya?”

  “That’s a story in itself, Vella.” Tellan answered gravely as Jenko came forward with a strip of velvet ready for dressing Vella’s wound. Tellan sat back on his haunches with a wince at the arrow still lodged within his chest and when Reya came back with the water skin, he accepted it gratefully.

  “I’m hardly going anywhere, am I?” Vella replied wryly as Tellan took a deep draught. Jenko finished wrapping her shoulder well enough that the sutures were at least protected, and finally, he turned and grimly looked at Tellan.

  “That needs taking out first.” He said insistently with a gesture at the arrow within Tellan’s chest.

  “Very well.” Tellan acquiesced as he shrugged out of his overcoat as best he could without jarring the broken arrow shaft and while Jenko placed a somewhat ungentle hand upon the wound, he wordlessly handed him Vella’s knife.

  Throughout the entirety of his treatment, Tellan and Jenko told Vella the full gravity of what had come before: of Asgard and the Line of Baldur, of the War Beyond, of Reya’s unique lineage and the true threat that Belial brought upon Midgard. In as much as she was stunned by the enormity of their story, Vella couldn’t help but be impressed at how steadfastly Tellan bore his cauterising; the barest of hisses escaping his breath in spite of the agony she knew such treatment brought.

  As much as she had known him for many years and worked with him on many jobs, only now did she realise the gravity of where he had come from. She had always known he and Jenko were the most formidable fighters she had ever seen, for the times she had witnessed them united in combat had always left her astonished in awe. It occurred to her then that she had made her own conclusions about both Tellan and Jenko’s pasts and all those years ago, when their friendship had still been fresh, Jenko had done little to elaborate on what she had decided could only have been military skill.

  What a fool he must have thought me…Vella suddenly thought bitterly, watching on with what felt to her like childish naïvety as Tellan stretched his chest experimentally. The two men traded places with silent practise and as Tellan warmed the blade of his dagger once more, she remained in stunned silence, staring incredulously at the very idea that these men had been alive for centuries. They continued on the fantastical saga of Reya’s heritage even as they cut Jenko’s wound, both men making their own additions to the incredible story that had brought them to this point. But when the end of the revelation was punctuated by the final snipping of Jenko’s sutures, they finally stopped speaking and looked upon her so solidly that she balked at their attention.

  “Well?” Jenko asked after a moment of silence that seemed to stretch on. He hitched his hands meaningfully at her and added, “Aren’t you going to say anything?”

  Still Vella sat in dumbfounded silence, but eventually she shook her head, still too flabbergasted at the magnitude of their story to say anything worthwhile. “What can I say?” She asked in stunned shock and as she settled her gaze upon the two men, she continued numbly, “You’ve just told me you’re not human. That…that you’re immortal–”

  “Used to be.” Jenko interjected as he gently flexed his leg.

  But Vella shook her head dismissively at his interruption. “This is too much.” She muttered quietly, “I can’t…I can’t wrap my head around this. And this Belial guy is a demon?”

  “Demon prince.” Tellan murmured carefully as he set to removing the other arrow still lodged in his own shoulder, for he could sense how fragile Vella’s temper had become in the enormity of their revelation.

  Again Vella shook her head and as she rubbed her face in impotent confusion, she mumbled under her breath, “This has to be what going mad feels like.”

  “I…appreciate this is…a lot to take in.” Tellan began carefully through a grunt as he finally pulled the arrow free and Vella shot an incredulous glance at him between her palms, “But please, believe me when I say that Reya cannot fall into the hands of Belial. It would be disastrous across the planes.”

  Vella huffed a laugh and hitched an eyebrow ironically, “Well no. Not with all that…Asgardian magic she’s got.” I can’t believe I just said that. She thought.

  “It’s not magic.” Jenko supplied pointedly and Vella could almost have laughed at how casually he handed the hot throwing knife to Tellan.

  “Whatever.” She argued irritably. She then glanced at Tellan as he cauterised his own wound and asked, “So you were the uncle she was talking about back in Ilema?”

  “Yes. I sent her there when Belial killed her father.” He answered with a hiss of breath as he pulled the blade back from his skin, “I barely got there in time myself before he laid waste to Ilema looking for her.”

  “And you!” Vella suddenly shot at Jenko.

  “What did I do?” Jenko asked defensively with his hands pressed upon his chest.

  “‘What did I do?’.” She mimicked childishly, “You were going to toss her out that night!”

  Even as he stitched his wound closed, Tellan turned questioning eyes at Jenko and with a defensive shrug, Jenko offered them both, “Hey, I didn’t know who she was and she had no money to pay for a room! I’m the mercenary type, so sue me!”

  “How could you not recognise your own niece?” Vella asked coldly.

  Jenko pinched the bridge of his nose for control over his sudden spike in irritation and sighed. “I know Tellan calls her his niece, but we’re not related, Vella.” He replied insistently.

  “Maybe not, but how could you not know her?”

  “I…” Jenko began and as he dropped his hand into his lap, he continued awkwardly, “I left for Ilema not long after she was born. I didn’t see her grow up.”

  “You mean you abandoned her.” Vella asked with deadpan judgement.

  “No!” Jenko shot angrily, his eyes flashing up at her with indignant heat, “Baldur ordered me away; it was for her own protection!”

  “And since when do you do what you’re told, eh?”

  “That’s different, Vella! Above all else, I am a soldier of Asgard. I know it’s difficult for you to comprehend, but when my commander gives me an order, I follow it!”

  “Even so!”

  Reya’s quiet voice joined the conversation then, but as hushed as she was, her soft tone commanded the immediate attention of everyone. “This world, Vella…you and me…we’re not ready for the things that lie beyond our plane. I’m not, and I’ve seen such things with my own eyes that you wouldn’t believe. My father was frightened that if our family stayed together, then too much attention would be brought upon us, upon me…I am a child of both our worlds, you see. My father sent Jenko away for my protection, to keep me safe.”

  “Your family?” Vella whispered numbly, touched at how poignant Reya’s words sounded from someone so young.

  “Yes…” Reya said and she looked upon both men by the campfire with the proudest adoration Vella had ever seen before, “My guardians, my family.”

  Tellan’s eyes gleamed with powerful pride as he looked upon his beautiful niece, taken with how much she had grown since her father’s death. He was breathless with how wonderful she had become, so different to the frightened young girl of that day, of the day she had become so painfully aware of who she was…he could have wept with the power of his adoration for her.

  “As much as our background gives a reason for why we’re here, Vella, the bottom line is keeping Reya safe from Belial.” J
enko murmured hoarsely, for the realisation of how deeply Reya cared for him in turn touched his heart with such sweet pride that it nearly choked him.

  Vella sighed at Jenko’s words that held such a selfless truth so uncharacteristic of him and she acquiesced, “You’re right, of course. But forgive me if I find this revelation about someone I trusted over everyone else difficult to swallow.”

  “Are you talking about me, or Tellan?” Jenko quipped ironically in an ill-advised recovery of his lapse in neutrality.

  “For fuck’s sake, you just can’t help yourself, can you?” Vella responded hotly and within the genuinely angered tone of her voice, Tellan became glaringly aware that a deeper grievance lay within her.

  He stood silently then and with a meaningful hitch of his head at Reya, Vella and Jenko were left by the campfire in a heavy silence that lay heavily over the warmth of the flames. Jenko watched his companion warily, unsure of what he should say to her in this moment. He knew she was hurting, that she felt he had lied to her…she wasn’t wrong, not entirely, but Jenko had no idea of what he could possibly say in his defence that wouldn’t sound trite or bitter.

  His eyes snapped up in sudden attention when Vella blurted first, “How long have we known each other for, Jenko? Ten years?” She shook her head at him then and Jenko felt the stab of guilt in her wounded expression, “You’ve lied to me every day for a decade, you complete and utter bastard.”

  “I never lied to you, Vella.” Jenko began with a sombre glint in his eye, “I told you every damn day…you just couldn’t see it.”

  Vella blinked with sudden comprehension and as the penny dropped with a loud clang in her mind, she chuckled wryly, “Ah yes…the ‘Fighting Angel’. How droll. My sides are fucking splitting.”

  Jenko stared silently at her downcast mouth, uncomfortable with how badly she had received the revelation of his origins. He felt compelled to embrace her then, but instead he came forward on his haunches and even as Vella rocked backward in surprise of his movement, he placed his hands caringly upon hers. Jenko sighed down at their touch and as he looked upon Vella with something that startlingly looked like regret, he swallowed bitter disappointment at his own part in her pain.

  Vella looked at him out of the corner of her periphery and rolled her eyes almost imperceptibly at the sadness she saw in his face. This was him saying sorry…and in his silence, was the most heartfelt apology she had ever been given from him. It grated on her that this new, considerate Jenko was so sweet; she’d be as big a bastard as him if she didn’t forgive him now.

  “So…” She muttered with reticent levity, “Where’s your halo and harp then?”

  “I fenced those years ago.”

  The two looked at one another then and with the slight smile that danced upon Vella’s lips came the unspoken affirmation that Jenko was granted forgiveness. But as much as he shared her dry chuckle, he still felt that he owed her more and again he dropped his gaze to their hands still entwined.

  “For what it’s worth, Vella…I’m sorry I had to keep this from you for all these years.” He murmured with such sincerity that Vella’s brow ticked uncertainly, so unused she was to the display of honesty that had become far too frequent for his own comfort, “But I couldn’t expose my true nature to anyone, for the sake of Reya’s safety. I hope you can forgive me…but I’ll understand if you can’t.”

  Vella’s mouth twisted reticently at Jenko’s words, but as she sighed and patted his hand gently, she answered honestly, “Of course I understand, Jenko. But given how close I thought we were, don’t you agree that it’s not unreasonable for me to be pissed off?”

  Jenko nodded briefly and the slight sagging of his shoulders spoke volumes of his relief as though he had declared his thoughts to the world. “Of course…and I’m glad.” His forehead then creased in a frown as he patted her shoulder with awkward roughness, “We’re still close, Vella. Apart from Tellan, you’re my oldest friend, it’s just…I hope you know keeping my past a secret was not because of a lack of trust.”

  Vella then watched him as he glanced over at Tellan and Reya with concern, and as her face softened with the gravity of a new realisation, she asked in wonderment, “You really love her, don’t you?”

  “With all my heart.” Jenko all but whispered back, “When she jumped…I truly thought–” He then sniffed awkwardly when he realised how closely Vella watched him and with a clearing of his throat, he dipped his head and said, “Anyway, now that’s all cleared up, I suppose I should…have a scout around.”

  But when Jenko walked away from her she had already seen the gleam of emotion within his eyes and for the second time in as many hours, Vella realised that there was far more behind Jenko’s cynical exterior than she had ever known. She then looked upon Tellan and Reya and, after a moment of watching how intimately they stood together, she shook her head at the enormity of her new knowledge.

  Angels and demons…wars on different planes…what the hell is coming next, undead and werewolves? She wondered wryly.

  Timran’s fingers clawed doggedly at the sharp rocks of the canyon’s steep divide, heedless of the blisters and cuts that would have scalded the hands of other men. The bloodied pads of his fingers reached for any purchase that could bring him closer to level ground, his eyes ever unblinking in their silver focus upon the grey clouds that roiled above. He slipped momentarily until his fingers bit tightly into the barest of hand holds, buffeted by the wind that raced through the rocky corridor like wheeling swallows. But still Belial’s champion climbed on tirelessly and when his bloodless fingers finally gripped the tufted edge of the canyon’s precipice, his wrist was seized by a dark grey hand.

  His unblinking silver eyes were lifted then and upon the sighting of his master Belial before him, gripping his wrist with a sneer of derision upon his smoky face, Timran was pulled upwards. But his saviour hauled him onto his feet with a roughness borne of anger and as Belial seized Timran’s throat with an iron hard grip, Timran was pushed backwards until he leaned over the canyon’s edge once more.

  Belial surged forward then and as he squeezed tightly upon Timran’s throat, he stared centimetres into those lifeless, mercurial eyes with a drumming tattoo of Abyssal rage in his soul. But the lack of reaction within his champion’s expression reminded him of how ineffectual such anger was against this pawn and even though his grip slackened slightly, there was still the rusted edge of anger within his voice.

  “Where is she?” Belial hissed with quiet malice into Timran’s face and his eyes sketched across his champion’s motionless expression, “Where is my prize?”

  “Gone, Sire.” Timran rasped and even though his heels clipped the edge of the canyon in teetering danger, his face remained unmoved.

  “I can see that.” Belial responded with simmering acidity and he bared his teeth in an animalistic grimace as he asked, “Did you engage them?”

  “Yes, Sire.”

  Belial snarled in rage and as he clamped his other hand around the back of Timran’s neck, he pushed him further backwards until all that stopped the hollowed soldier from falling to his doom was his master’s strength. He stared aggressively into Timran’s sightless gaze as he pressed a hand against Timran’s chest and watched when his champion’s failure flashed before his eyes.

  “So…she has finally learned some degree of control.” Belial murmured thoughtfully, ignoring how the soldier’s heels slipped precariously. He then chuckled darkly and continued, “Good. Your fumbling was not without some success, at least.”

  Belial’s sight suddenly unfocused when a dull, metallic film gleamed across his eyes and as he shook his head from the buzzing tug upon his mind, he felt the sensation that someone stood behind him. He turned his head sharply and for a moment, he became confused at the vision his mind showed him.

  The girl Reya stood behind him with her hands over her mouth against the sharp gasp that burst from her lips and, even as Belial hissed in triumph that she had come to him, his peripheral
vision brought him new clarity. The girl stood within a small courtyard, shrouded in an oily gloom that Belial recognised as his own Dark and in that moment, he realised that he saw her through her own dream.

  He ignored her then and turned his attention to her surroundings, knowing that at any moment, the shock of seeing him would bring her crashing into wakefulness. Sparse tufts of grass grew in pale green sprigs among the cobbled stone under her feet and around her, mottled white and grey stonework littered the ground in a parody of a building. Ancient banners left shredded and distressed across the destroyed walls blew like cobwebs in the wind, bleached through sun and storm and from memory, Belial knew there would be the ghost of a forgotten coat of arms emblazoned upon them.

  The girl’s knees buckled then in the beginnings of a faint and as the fleeting scene was ripped from Belial’s eyes, he staggered from the whipping force of its abruptness. He gasped briefly in the aftermath of Reya’s vision and as he redoubled his grip upon Timran’s throat reflexively for purchase, his champion remained ever silent.

  “Clever…” He growled under his breath, for he recognised his prey’s location with great familiarity. He then righted himself and as he straightened once more, he stared into Timran’s face with a wicked grin. “The time has finally come, old friend.”

  “Sire!” A voice shouted from behind.

  Belial kept Timran held over the yawning edge of the canyon as he turned and looked dismissively upon the vermin soldier that had addressed him. “What?” He snarled.

  “Their trail has been found, Sire.” The man said through a knife slash grin that spoke of how deeply Belial’s Dark had rooted itself within him.

  Belial turned his head once more and looked upon Timran’s bloodless face as he answered his human lackey with a knowing tone, “They’ve gone north.”

  “Yes, Sire.” The drone answered and Belial’s grin was truly murderous as he revelled in his impending victory. The soldier continued, “Shall we make chase?”