Fall From the Moon (A Bánalfar Novel Book 1)

by CS Hale

  The next day, Valemar took me out to see the Dunna River. The road there was well traveled with people and goods moving between the small town of Piltur and the city of Torfin. Nestled on the east bank of the river just above Taspar’s Bridge, Piltuir served as a way station. Torfin was situated central to the fields of pilva, but, as with most pre-mechanized places, the river made transportation of goods easier so the majority of its wine flowed down the Dunna to be dispersed throughout Bánalfar, or beyond from the port in Vanerife.

  The Leisna River that ran by Aedenfal was small, more like a canal compared to the Dunna. Here, I was reminded of the Thames that runs through the city of London on Earth: boats coming and going, traffic moving, goods and people being loaded and unloaded along the banks. The Dunna was not as large a river as the Forma on Hautel Seven or the Mississippi on Earth or the Alfari would have had to cross it by ferry instead of the bridge, the expanse being too great to build one with their technology. And, like the Thames, the banks of the Dunna were pleasant once you left the bustle of town behind.

  “You’re smiling,” Valemar said to me as we walked along.

  “This reminds me of home.” I traveled so much that even though I had a room at Finn’s in Edinburgh and I loved the time I spent with my family, I was more at peace in London with all its parks. It was the only city I’d found on Earth that had managed to retain a village atmosphere, even with all the high-rises that ringed its ancient core. I tried to spend a few weeks there each year — the weary voyager returning to her roots.

  “What was your home like?” Valemar asked.

  I snapped off a flower from the grass along the bank and twirled it. “In truth, the interior of a ship most of the time.” Valemar’s face fell. He knew the interior of my ship was nothing like the ones passing by us on the Dunna. “But when I was home, when I wasn’t on a ship, I liked to spend my days in a town that has a river like this.”

  “What did you do when you traveled?”

  “I worked as an emissary, though my title was ‘Protocol Specialist.’”

  “And what did that entail?”

  I gave Valemar a sidelong glance. It was clear he was leading me not only down the path along the river but to some other agenda. “I studied the customs and business practices of different peoples.” I gestured to one of the larger ships being rowed up the river. “I would have been aboard one of those, traveling with wine or anapali cloth, or with the men — and women — who brokered the deals. Instead of sewing with Cadalin, I would have traveled with her husband.”

  “I see.” Valemar was silent for a moment. “So, you don’t sew. You don’t ride.”

  “Didn’t.”

  “Do you fight?”

  I stopped in my tracks. My heart took the opportunity to jump into my throat. Let’s get the Moon Princess nice and comfortable and then put a blade in her hand. He may not have said it, but I had the feeling that was exactly what he was thinking.

  “No, I was just the emissary. Not even that. The assistant to the emissary.” I sought wildly for a comparison. “I’m more like Padrid. Does Padrid fight?” I asked. And then sincerely hoped the answer was “no.” The Alfari seemed to be the prepared type.

  “Are you protected?” Valemar asked.

  I tried to swallow down my heart. If it rose any farther, it would fly right out of my mouth. I knew exactly where this was going. And, sure enough, that was where it went.

  “If you are protected, should you not be willing to protect? If the need arose,” Valemar asked, using my own words against me.

  “Yes,” I whispered. I stared hard at the flower in my hands and tried hard not to think about the result of any encounter. We wouldn’t be just scaring people away.

  Valemar caressed my cheek then lifted my face until my eyes met his. “There is going to be danger out there. I would feel better if you learned how to use a blade. To move silently. I would not have you be the knife that stands between death and destruction. But I would have you learn to protect yourself. Just in case.”

  His eyes held a fear that had not been there before. Reports passed in and out of his hands all the time. Was there some threat to me that he hadn’t shared?

  Valemar’s hands encircled my hips. His thumbs lightly pressed against my belly. I closed my eyes so he wouldn’t see the answer in them that it was empty.

  He wanted a wife who could protect herself and his future child. I couldn’t give him the latter, but I could give him the former.

  “What would you have me do?”

  Daria dressed me in a short tunic and hose and braided my hair into a plait that hung down my back. Valemar took me to the large chamber he used in Torfin to practice jaldun. He drew out one of the short, curved swords from the belt at his waist. I tried to catch the precise movements as he quickly ran the handle through his fingers before the hilt came to rest in his hand.

  “A sword or knife is an extension of your hand.” His knees bent, his leg shifted, and his arm extended. “You learn to dance with the blade, to move like the breeze, bend like the river, and slice —”

  “Like Death himself,” I said.

  His smile turned dangerous and his eyes gleamed. “Exactly. Men train from early boyhood to move in such a way.”

  “And I am neither a child nor a boy.”

  Valemar’s eyes danced. “For which I am extremely grateful.”

  “So why introduce me to jaldun?”

  The sword hissed — steel against steel — as Valemar slid it back into its sheath. “I want you to be able to wield a knife, should you need to. I want you able to move silent and swift as the wind should you need to fly.”

  “What aren’t you telling me?”

  “Just a precaution.” His eyes said otherwise, but I could tell that was as much explanation as I was going to get. Valemar drew a knife from his belt and held it out to me hilt first, his fingers wrapped around the end of the blade. I took it from him.

  The knife had the weight of a tablet but fit into my hand like it was part of me. I swallowed. “You’d have me kill someone with this?”

  “I’d have you save yourself with this.”

  I tested my thumb against the edge. I didn’t even need to apply pressure to tell that it was sharp enough to cut straight through to the bone. And maybe even through that.

  “Yes, it’s sharp,” Valemar said. “You wouldn’t need much skill, but I would have you learn what someone could try to do to you.”

  “The ability to anticipate is the ability to succeed,” I said, quoting one of my protocol professors.

  Valemar gave me a satisfied smile. “Exactly.” His eyes turned to the knife in my hand. “A perfect fit, and you’re holding it well. It is an extension of your hand, an extension of your will. Fists can pummel and nails can scratch —”

  “But the blade will slice and tear.”

  “Be it man or beast.”

  “Those things aren’t mutually exclusive,” I said.

  “No. They’re not.”

  I swung the knife about, testing its balance. Valemar laughed.

  “I know. I’m rubbish,” I said.

  “Rubbish?”

  I winced and tried to think of a definition. “It means ‘garbage’ in the sense that I’m something you’d sweep up and take out rather than keep.”

  “Rubbish. Interesting.” Valemar came to stand behind me. “Unpracticed is a better observation. One that will change if we don’t sweep you up and take you away with the garbage.”

  Valemar matched his arms up with mine and curled his hands around my hands. “Do you stand so close to the children you train?” I asked.

  “No,” he said. His lips tickled my ear. “But there has to be some advantage to teaching my wife.” He began to slowly move my arms in graceful yet deadly arcs. “The wind brushes everything, curling and twisting. It is here and then it is gone. The river, too, bends and twists. Calm on the surface, swift and dangerous underneath. Both cut and carve. Both are the essence of lif
e — the air we inhale and exhale, the blood that flows through the rivers of our veins. So, too, must you flow if it comes to kill or be killed.”

  “Not today,” I whispered, thinking of the ancient greeting one gave to Death.

  “Hmm?” Valemar’s question buzzed in my ear.

  “One says, ‘Not today,’ when one meets Death,” I said.

  Valemar chuckled. “Until it is, ‘You are welcome, my friend.’”

  “I suppose.” I couldn’t see Death as a friend.

  “My father said, ‘Not today,’ until the pain became so great that it became, ‘I am ready.’ So it was, ‘You are welcome, my friend,’ when he passed into the next life.”

  Pain blossomed in my heart. “I can see how Death could be a friend in that way.”

  “Yes,” Valemar agreed. “But for you —” He continued to move my arms, gently pushing and pulling so that they not only moved but the rest of me, too, shifting my weight from one foot to the next. “— I want you to tell him, ‘Not today,’ for many years to come.”

  I lost track of what I was doing. All I was conscious of was how the husband I hadn’t wanted was wrapped around me.

  “Astrid.” Valemar’s voice tickled in my ear again.

  “Hmm?’ I blinked back my emotion. How had I ended up so blessed?

  “Where did you drift to?”

  My arms felt empty without him in them. I caught his hands with my pinky fingers and wrapped our arms about me, taking care to keep the blade from drifting too close.

  “When I abandoned my ship and set out for Crenfor, I never thought I’d find anyone like you.”

  Valemar’s lips brushed my ear. “And I’d been waiting for you for a long time.”

  But he hadn’t been waiting for me.

  I squeezed Valemar’s hands and extended my arms again. He wanted the Moon Princess to be prepared. I still wouldn’t be her, but I could make the last part true.

  MY DAYS IN Torfin lost their lazy, summer feel. Valemar turned my training over to Heymond and a young King’s Guard who went by the nickname The Shadow. In both cases, Valemar chose wisely. The body that stood behind me, directing my movements in jaldun, was one I’d been plastered against for hours on my first day on Crenfor. As if it remembered the journey, I found it easier to follow Heymond’s movements, limb against limb, than I had with Valemar. There was no anticipation of further joining, only dedication of purpose.

  At mid-morning I became The Shadow’s pupil. Erris had the ability to move silently through building or field with little more than a hint of darkness to give away his presence. Even that he taught me to conceal. Ball … heel … ball … heel. We crept through the passageways of High Torfin, the fields of pilva, and the sheltering groves. He set up watches of the King’s Guard and had me attempt to elude them. I was usually unsuccessful, but my skills improved.

  Afternoons I spent with Brinna, a respite from the rigors of training. In a few short months, I’d gone from reading files and negotiating contracts, to negotiating hallways and learning “women’s ways,” to a ghost who wielded a blade and crept through the shadows, if somewhat clumsily. Afternoons with Brinna, lounging in the solar or outside in the shade of the trees, became my refuge from the world of men. With my every hour accounted for, Daria became merely my dresser, for which I was sorry. Valemar still lavished his attention on me at dinner and in the quiet dark of our bedroom. I no longer saw him during the day, but there were times I could sense he was watching me, judging my progress from just out of sight.

  The karawack grew old enough that they were caged up and sent off to Glábac (the gateway city to Gladama), Aedenfal, Vanerife, and Lendurig. Only one remained in Torfin so that I could receive messages from there once I left. Ean was already planning the next clutch for me. Valemar had hundreds of birds scattered all across Bánalfar. I only had five. I didn’t know how he did it, for each bird seemed to have taken a piece of my soul. It was as if I was sending five children out into the world. Ean had chuckled but agreed when I made the observation.

  “It is very like,” he said. “For that is how they find you.” He secured the cage on the last former chick, now a full-fledged bird, and crossed to its mother. “But you’ve six. Sari has adopted you.” He stroked her cream-colored head. “She would find you, if we sent her.”

  My thoughts were still on my birds while I trained with Heymond. Though he instructed me in jaldun with two blades, today we were sparring with dull knives — him two blades, me one.

  Heymond’s knife connected with my empty left hand. I hissed in pain and tried to shake off the sting. “Why do I only get one?” I asked.

  “That would have been your hand,” Heymond said as I checked my palm.

  “Yes, well it’s used to moving in the flow of jaldun.” I took up my stance again.

  Heymond didn’t. “You need to be aware, my queen. We may fight with two blades, but you will most likely have only one. You are not a warrior.”

  I rose out of the pose. “Then why train me? Why would Valemar have me learn jaldun but give me only one blade?”

  Heymond’s cheek twitched. “You are the Moon Princess. There are those who would stop you.”

  I swallowed hard. “Have you … Valemar … received a credible threat?”

  Heymond’s eyes gave nothing away. “It is not my place to say. But you should be able to defend yourself.”

  “With one blade?”

  Heymond sank back. “With whatever is at hand.”

  I shifted, lowering my center of gravity, and watched for the smallest flicker of movement, the slightest hint as to his intention. Heymond’s blades twirled in his hands. An action, he’d told me, designed to distract an opponent.

  “Remember, my queen, your left hand is empty. Use it for balance only.”

  “Unless I pick something up,” I muttered.

  A smile lifted one corner of his mouth. “Exactly.”

  The knives twirled again and then Heymond lunged. I twisted to the side. His knives sliced at where I’d been, snagging against my clothing instead of stopping against me. In an unconscious flash, my blade traveled from my right hand to my left and jabbed backward. Heymond grunted as the dull steel dug into his kidney.

  “Nice, my queen. Unexpected.” He rubbed at his back. “That is one advantage of having a single blade.”

  Heymond eyed my shaking hand. “Would that blow have killed you?” I asked.

  “No. But it would have slowed me down.” Heymond took both his blades in one hand. “Go find the Shadow. He’s stationed by the High gate,” Heymond added when I grinned. “I’ll retrieve you in an hour.”

  Erris peeled off from his place against the wall when I approached. His eyes gleamed merrily. “I’ll be back,” he called out to the guard standing opposite him. “In — how long?” he asked me.

  “Heymond said an hour.”

  “An hour then,” he added joyfully.

  The other guard bowed lightly. “My queen.”

  We headed off. Erris bounced alongside me like a puppy. “I think we should practice moving through the countryside,” he said, then eyed my clothing. “Though we should practice in town sometime when you’re in your regular dress. No need to advertise what we’re doing, but you should still learn how to disappear into a crowd.”

  I forced a smile onto my face. Why did Erris — and Valemar and Heymond by extension — now think this was something I needed to do? “Why did you learn to disappear and move like a shadow?” I asked him.

  “I like sweets,” Erris said with a big grin. “Moving quickly and quietly allowed me to sneak them from the kitchen.”

  “Ah.” I smiled. “Instead of Shadow, I could call you Knave of Hearts.”

  “Knave?”

  “It’s an old term in my native language for ‘sneaky young man.’”

  Erris frowned. “Sneaky young man of hearts?”

  “It’s from an old rhyme based on an even older game,” I said. “On the moon we play a game that uses
cards illustrated with hearts, diamonds, shovels, and a leaf. The rhyme, though I’m not sure it will rhyme in Alfari, goes:

  The Queen of Hearts

  She made some tarts,

  All on a summer’s day,

  The Knave of Hearts

  He stole those tarts,

  And took them clean away.

  The King of Hearts

  Called for the tarts

  And beat the Knave full sore,

  The Knave of Hearts

  Brought back the tarts,

  And vowed he’d steal no more.”

  “Did he?” Erris looked thoughtful. “I don’t know if I could keep that vow if they were lian tarts. Might have to make an exception for that in my vow.”

  I laughed. “They are good.” I didn’t get them near as often as I would have liked.

  We walked out through the gate and into the countryside that surrounded Torfin. “How old are you?” I asked.

  “I just turned sixteen.” He grinned. “I know. I’m young for the King’s Guard. But they didn’t pick me for my fighting prowess.”

  He put a hand out to stop me. As I fell behind him, I spotted the retreating form of Heymond not too far ahead of us.

  Erris gave me a sly smile. “Feel like spying on our esteemed Captain of the Guard today?”

  “Why not?” I said.

  Erris melted into the shrubbery that lay a few feet from the path. Toe — heel. Toe — heel. We crept along, keeping Heymond in sight.

  Heymond continued down the path then followed a smaller one that split off on the left. Here we hung back. The path ran through fields until it reached a farmhouse. Erris and I got down low and crept along, trying to keep Heymond in sight.

  Heymond shouted a greeting as he neared the house. We watched as a woman came out and spoke to Heymond, then pointed behind the house.

  “Kwarg! Oh — beggin’ your pardon, my queen,” Erris said, apologizing for his use of one of the more colorful Alfari swear words, which loosely translated as “pig fucker”. “We can try to circle ‘round, but if he doubles back before we can get there, we’ll lose him.”