Fall From the Moon (A Bánalfar Novel Book 1)

by CS Hale

  Daria helped me change into a dress of green and gold then took out one of the padded boxes that contained the royal jewels. She removed the small crown of gold barat leaves and peridot and placed it on my head.

  “Who are we receiving?” I asked her.

  Daria stepped back to survey her work. My appearance met with her approval and she smiled. “You are being received. Valemar will be here momentarily to take you to the glade.”

  Before I had a chance to ask any questions, Valemar opened the door to my room. “Thank you, Daria,” he said. She bowed her head and left us. Valemar stepped around me and checked my appearance as well. Then he smiled and held out a hand. “Are you ready?”

  Down we went, through hallways that led to the back door, without the twists and turns that I had grown accustomed to. Valemar pushed the door open, and I stopped in surprise. The grove spread out before us, fifteen feet away, but the massive, open space beneath the green, leafy canopy was empty, despite the crush of pilgrims in Glábac. Valemar and I were alone with the trees. Their ancient, heavy branches bathed the forest in shade. Patches of gray sky poked through. Valemar led me down an unseen path that wove its way through the gnarled, ancient roots that anchored the trees. There was no birdsong, just the creaking and groaning of the trees and the rustle of leaves as a light wind passed through them, carrying with it the smell of impending rain.

  “Where is everyone?” I whispered to Valemar, for I had the same feeling as when I walked into a church — that hush of respect that made you lower your voice because you sensed you were in the presence of something greater than yourself.

  “Letting us pay our respects in private.”

  “And how do we do that?”

  Valemar didn’t answer me. I trotted alongside him, the difference in our heights much more noticeable due to the lengths of our strides.

  We wound our way through the trees. Eventually, I could see the meadow between them, the glade that had given the forest its name. A basket sat nestled by a root. I giggled when I saw the bottles of wine it contained.

  Valemar stopped. “What?”

  “Well, I’d been thinking that this place reminded me of a myth of my ancestors,” I said.

  “They may have come here.”

  Not likely, I thought. “Though this is a grove with many trees, they are much like what I imagined Yggdrasil, the Tree of Life, looked like. There are three goddesses there — the past, the present, and the future. Every day they draw water and pour it on the tree so that its branches do not rot.”

  “Ah.” Valemar smiled. “And we are to pour wine on the trees.”

  He wrapped his arms around me and pressed his lips to my hair. I held him close, my nose buried deep in the fabric of his robes. As if he knew I wanted to linger there, Valemar kissed the top of my head and took my hand again.

  Valemar removed the stopper from one of the four bottles and handed it to me. “Just pour a little on the roots of one tree and move your offering to the next.”

  I held the bottle to my chest. “Do I say anything?”

  Valemar smiled. “Only in your heart.”

  “And what do you say?”

  He uncorked his bottle. “It is said that we came from the sea but Gladama sheltered us, protected us until we were strong enough to go out into the world. We offer thanks for the life it’s given us. We —”

  But he didn’t continue. “I’ll meet you in the middle, on the far side,” he said, then he stepped left and poured a small measure onto the roots of the tree.

  I thought I saw his lips move, then I stepped right and poured my offering. Thank you for the life I have here. I reached out and touched the tree. My hand snapped back almost as soon as it brushed the bark. I curled my fingers together to stop their shaking and brought my hand back to my side as I swallowed. Surely, I had been mistaken.

  I walked twenty or thirty feet to the next tree and poured the wine. Thank you for my husband. I cautiously held my hand out this time and placed it against the knobby, gray bark. It was probably only the wind, moving the branches, moving the tree, but it felt like a heartbeat. Which only added to the sense that the trees were somehow more than alive.

  Slowly, I lifted my palm and moved down to the next one that ringed the glade. Life. These trees were life. And then I knew what Valemar’s prayers were. I didn’t turn my head, didn’t turn around to watch him at his task, but I knew.

  I poured wine on the roots of the next, unable to form any words or thoughts of thankfulness. My fingers brushed the tree. I wish …

  But there was no point in wishing. I stepped to the next. Thank you for my life here. Thank you for my husband. Protect him. Protect us all.

  My prayer was different when I poured the last of the wine from my second bottle on the last of my trees, Valemar doing the same thing twenty feet from me. Show me how to help him for I do not know how. I laid my hand against the tree. For you are threatened again, and I am no savior.

  There was the faintest of whispering in my ears. I looked up and searched the tree, ready at that moment to believe in dryads. And then the leaves rippled in the breeze, louder than they had been before.

  “It will rain tonight,” Valemar said, joining me.

  “Um,” I hummed in agreement, still beyond words.

  Valemar embraced me from behind and pressed a kiss to my head. “We should go. Let the others into the glade before the weather changes.”

  I leaned into the protective circle of his arms. “Why was it just us?”

  “Antilli Slácran Carbrev pledged his life and the lives of his people to these trees. Every generation since has come to offer up their lives in service. It is a sacred vow. The Alfari know we stand first, and while they come to offer their thanks to the trees, they stand behind us. So, they wait for us to finish our offering and our pledge.”

  I folded my arms over Valemar’s. Two thousand years of prayers. Two thousand years of service. My eyes began to sting.

  Valemar kissed the top of my head again. “We should go.” I nodded.

  Two thousand years, and it would all end because of me.

  The rain broke about dinner time. Dinners at Aedenfal had been noisy, crowded affairs where I was grudgingly welcome. Dinners at Torfin and been smaller, quieter, but filled with Brinna’s sparkling personality. Dinners on the road had been even smaller, mainly just our party at a table in the public dining room, but the Alfari let their king eat in peace. Dinner at Glábac reflected its setting — quiet and reverent, with each person treated more or less as equal.

  The crowns we’d worn to the glade were put away, and our green and gold robes exchanged for plainer ones of a medium green. We ate at long wooden tables set with long wooden benches. After dinner, a minstrel perched by the fire and sang the ballad of Antilli Slácran.

  Valemar sat with his arm around me, his fingers gently tracing the curve of my shoulder. I laid my head against him and watched the musician and the flames, though in my mind Antilli rode down from the north, leading his army. He destroyed the forges, burned down the mills, and drove the Cordair before him, all the way to the Archjarn — the Iron Hills. The land was green and peaceful then. The song reminded us that the Alfari were still called to watch, to prepare, and to give thanks for the trees.

  Valemar and I went up to bed shortly after the minstrel had finished. Daria put me into a cream colored nightgown.

  “I’ll have a hot bath waiting for you when you get back,” she said.

  “Get back?” I asked. But she slipped from the room before I could ask, “From where?”

  Valemar came in a short time later dressed in a loose fitting tunic and trousers. He held out his hand. “Come.”

  “Where are we going?” I asked, but he didn’t answer.

  We followed the same route from the afternoon, down to the door that opened onto the grove. Valemar pushed it wide. Rain pelted, splashing the threshold. The night was inky dark beyond.

  “I can’t see in the dark like you c
an,” I said, knowing he was going to take me into the trees.

  “You’ll be fine. I’ll keep you out of the way of the roots.” He squeezed my hand and drew me out.

  The rain was warm but soon left me sopping wet. Rivulets ran down my face and snaked through my hair before draining onto the increasingly wet nightgown that clung to my skin. It was dryer under the canopy, but the leaves collected and passed on the water which then fell in marble-sized drops. Daria was correct in her prediction that I’d need a bath after tonight’s foray. I just wondered what it was for. What was required besides the prayers and the wine?

  I could tell when we reached the glade. Mud turned to springy grass beneath my feet. The electric current that seemed to connect the trees changed, and the rain became steady. Even in the dark, there was the sense that this place was sacred. Sacred and protected and life-giving.

  Valemar stopped. I held out my hands, searching for him. His came around mine and placed my hands on his chest. He released them and took my face. Valemar traced the line of my jaw, gently brushed my mouth with his thumb, then lifted my chin and kissed me. His kiss was hungry but not demanding. And I realized why he’d brought me here.

  I kissed him back, willing to try, but my heart grew as heavy as the clouds, their tears running down my face, for I knew the effort would only lead to more disappointment.

  Valemar pressed me against him and kissed me until I became breathless. Then he pulled the nightgown over my head and dropped it onto the grass. His tunic soon followed. He stepped out of his trousers and lowered me to the ground.

  I brushed his long hair from our faces and prayed he couldn’t see the sadness that filled my eyes. In one smooth motion, he was inside me, and I could feel his prayer with every stroke. Please. Please let there be a child this time. Please.

  I offered up my own as I opened myself further, spread my legs wider and lifted my hips, allowing Valemar to drive even deeper. I held him to me, tears rising in my eyes, knowing that in a matter of days, his heart would break again. Valemar Dönal, heir of Antilli Tree Savior and the last of his line, would have no child with me.

  His thrusts drove me into the ground, and I took them, crying out when he climaxed and reached so far inside me he could have planted himself in my womb.

  Valemar shifted his weight and caressed my face. “I didn’t hurt you?”

  I shook my head. “No. You didn’t.” His lips came down on mine. He kissed me gently this time. I wished I could see him in the dark, see his face. And then I realized — he could see mine.

  I lifted a smile into place and reached out a hand, searching for his face. Valemar kissed me again and flexed inside me. I twitched and felt him go hard.

  “Again?” I asked.

  “Again,” he said. “This time for you. Let me show you how much I love you.”

  I didn’t bother to fight back my tears. Then Valemar started to make love to every inch of me and they were washed away.

  As the days slipped by, I spent increasing amounts of time among the trees, often curled up against the roots, my back to the ancient trunks, seeking my own shelter. Here in the Glade of Time, mine was running out.

  Valemar was with me when I got out of bed one morning to discover my period had arrived. The devastation on his face killed me.

  “We can try again,” he said. “You’ve been drinking the Mödatal’s tea, haven’t you?”

  I closed my eyes and clenched my teeth. I should have known. “Yes, of course. It’s …” I trailed off. It was time to tell him. “Let me just change first.”

  I pulled off the nightgown, put on a clean one, then wiped down my thighs and inserted a cloth tampon. I washed my hands and padded back to the bed. “I …” My lips trembled so badly, it was difficult to speak.

  “Astrid.” Valemar scooted over and took my hand. “Astrid, what is it?”

  I wanted to snap my hand away. How could he comfort me when I was about to destroy his world? “There won’t be any children,” I whispered.

  “Why do you say that? We can try again.”

  I shook my head. “It won’t work.”

  “What makes you think that?”

  “Because you and I are as different as … an anapali and a darana! They can’t have young together.”

  Valemar’s hand slipped from mine. “Why would you think that? You’re —” But he stopped. Just how foreign I was finally hit him.

  “I’m not of this world. I am as different from you —”

  “As an anapali from a darana.” I heard the first vestiges of anger in his voice. “Is it really so different on the moon?”

  I’m not from the moon, I said, but only my mouth moved. I’d not been able to put any air behind the words.

  “Astrid!”

  “I’m not from the moon,” I said, forcing the words out.

  “What do you mean you’re ‘not from the moon’?” The anger was unmistakable now in Valemar’s voice. The mattress shifted as he stood up.

  “Just that — I’m not from the moon. I’m … I’m from a planet that circles a distant star.”

  Valemar stumbled. His hand reached out for the wall, and he braced himself against it. “That’s madness.”

  “Is it? You’ve seen my ship. Well, it’s not even my ship. It was the escape pod. My ship was huge. About the size of this castle —” I broke off as Valemar turned and stared at me in horror. “That’s why it is forbidden,” I said, desperately grasping at something to make this better.

  “But … but you’re the Moon Princess.”

  I smiled weakly. “No. That’s what you called me.”

  Valemar’s head moved from side to side as he stared at the floor, unseeing. I shrank back as he changed, as rage filled and twisted his face. “You said you were the daughter of kings!”

  “I am. I mean, I was. Astrid was. I am named after Astrid, Trygve’s daughter. King Trygve Olavson of Viken. I carry the blood of three hundred years of Viking kings, but my family hasn’t ruled anything in nearly as long as yours has ruled Bánalfar.”

  “You LIED to me!” Valemar roared. His eyes turned dangerous. I shrank back further, afraid that I’d just released the lethal warrior inside him.

  “I didn’t correct your assumptions.” My words were little more than a whimper.

  The man I loved disappeared before my eyes. “You utter ombrác!” The word translated, and its vulgar meaning sliced at my heart.

  Valemar clenched his hands and roared his frustration at the ceiling. The eyes he turned to me were full of hatred. I tucked my feet under me, ready to spring away, even though I knew it would be useless. Valemar was too tall, too quick, and he could snap my neck before I ever saw it coming.

  My fear only made him roar again. I scrambled away when he moved, but a nearby chest of drawers fell victim to his rage. He grabbed it, taking it with such force that I expected the wood to splinter. Then the chest rose into the air, and he tossed it. Shards flew when it hit the floor. Without looking at the damage or at me, Valemar stomped to the door and flung it open. It banged against the wall and swung shut behind him.

  Fifteen minutes later, a terrified Daria found me cowering in bed.

  “Hurry, my queen,” she said, raising me with shaking hands. “We have to pack.”

  “Pack?”

  “We leave in an hour.”

  Valemar was casting me out. “Where are we to go?” I asked. Daria was already pulling things out of drawers.

  “Vanerife. Valemar is sending you to his mother.”

  THE MÖDATAL WAITED in the yard, already astride a darana, and dressed in her usual red. She shrugged. “I, too, am no longer welcome.”

  “You got us into this mess,” I muttered. I turned my stirrup and shoved my foot in. Keyan, Heymond’s lieutenant, rushed up to help me, his eyes averted. I wanted to snap at him, but Vanerife was hundreds of miles away. It would be a long journey if I alienated him now. “How far do we ride?” I asked him.

  “To Piltuir. We’ll take th
e royal barge from there.”

  I hummed an acknowledgement that was more of a grunt and jumped, pressing my weight into the stirrup. Keyan caught my right foot and boosted me over Loenir’s rump. I found my seat and looked around. We were a small party — three women, five men, and one pack animal. No Heymond to guard me this time.

  Keyan mounted up and clicked to his darana. I didn’t look behind me as we rode out of the castle gates and onto the cobblestone streets of Glábac. I had the feeling that Valemar was watching me, and I didn’t want to see his face. Anger, indifference, or happiness, I didn’t want that image seared into my memory.

  We made good time and stopped in the late afternoon at an inn to spend the night. I managed to stay upright until the innkeeper’s wife closed the door to my room then my legs gave out. I bit back my sobs, but couldn’t hold back the tears that flowed down my face. Daria found me like that a few minutes later.

  “Oh, my queen!” She sank down next to me and put a hand on my back. “What happened?”

  But I couldn’t answer. Daria sighed and began to rub my back, her hand moving in small circles. Even sitting upright became too difficult. I tipped over. My head came to rest in Daria’s lap. And still she kept at it, rubbing my back, stroking my hair.

  The shadows lengthened. The sounds of laughter and tankards pounding against wooden tables drifted up to the room.

  “I can’t go down to dinner.” My voice was hardly more than a whisper.

  “Why is that?”

  “She’ll be down there.”

  “Who?” Daria asked.

  “The Mödatal. It’s all her fault.”

  “Why is that?”

  I swallowed, trying to find my voice through the sobs that filled my throat. “She filled Valemar’s head with that ridiculous prophecy.”

  Daria’s hand stopped a moment then began to stroke me again. “I see. And what’s ridiculous about it?”

  “That I’m a savior.” I closed my eyes, shutting out the images of my dead comrades that rose up. “I can’t save anybody.”