Fall From the Moon (A Bánalfar Novel Book 1)

by CS Hale

  Valemar lay down next to me. “What scares you about this? Having you attempt this is a theory, just a theory. I’ll not risk you for a theory.”

  “But it needs to be considered.” I sighed. “In theory, it should work. Get me aboard a Hormani ship and I can use the comm program —”

  “Comm program?”

  “Communications program on the —” He was never going to understand. “It would be like me going to the Cair and asking Shale to use her Mödatal abilities to send a message to Reina. Another seer would receive it and tell her.” This is going to be a longshot since they can’t actually do it. But it was the best comparison I could think of.

  Valemar’s brow wrinkled. “So you’d talk to Shale?”

  “Yes.”

  “And she’d send a thought or some kind of invisible karawack to another seer?”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay.” A glimmer of understanding shone in Valemar’s eyes. “So you send the message, and then?”

  “The Shororato come.”

  “And make the Hormani leave.”

  I sat up. “If by some freaking miracle I’m able to send a message, the Hormani will probably leave as soon as they realize what I’ve done.”

  “That would be a good thing.”

  “That would,” I said, making myself agree with him.

  “And this frightens you, why?”

  I laced my fingers together to stop their trembling. “Because the Shororato will inspect your planet. They will need to assess what the Hormani have done.”

  “And they will stay, yes? You said something about chalk?”

  “Chalcopyrite. Yes, the Shororato will stay. And your people will never be the same.”

  Stopping there kept my promise to Shale, but I wanted Valemar to understand how much things would change. “My people, my planet, had found ways to travel to our moon and our neighbors in the solar system — the other planets. We had colonies on worlds that had never seen life before.” Valemar sucked in a breath and then slowly exhaled. “And we still weren’t prepared to meet people who could travel between the stars. My planet had spent hundreds of years searching for those … unseen signals in space. Proof that there was other life out there. And then one day, they heard it.” I took a deep breath. “And a few days later, the Shororato showed up.

  “If my arrival had been different, if I had killed everyone who attacked me, with weapons or methods you couldn’t understand, what would you have done?”

  Valemar went pale. “Fought.”

  “The Cordair are not going to be happy when the Shororato arrive. They seem to be a ‘shoot first, ask questions later —’” Valemar’s eyebrows inched together creating a furrow on his brow. “Old Earth expression. Someone surprises you —”

  “Got it. You fire your arrow before you ask what they’re doing.”

  I laughed at his simplistic, yet accurate, interpretation. “Yes.” Then I sobered. “These people here, your Alfari, can’t imagine traveling to the moon. They don’t like that I am different. What are they going to do when the Shororato appear in ships that can fly? There was mass panic on my planet when they showed up on mine, and we had thought we were ready for it.”

  Valemar stroked my face with a finger. “I begin to see your pain. You would not change my people — our people. But the Cordair …” Valemar gave a heavy sigh.

  I put a hand on his arm. “I know.”

  Garris stayed. Laera departed for Lendurig at first light. She was not the only one. By noon, a small but steady trickle left Aedenfal headed either north or west, people who had heard that the king claimed war was coming. That the Cordair had friends who would help them reclaim the lost lands.

  I remained inside the High, afraid for my life. Valemar and I had lit a match, hoping to create a backfire, but I was now afraid of the wind. It wouldn’t take much to send that fire racing back toward us instead of creating a protective swath.

  I dressed on my own. Braided my hair on my own. Lost in my thoughts, I dismissed Iree as soon as she’d brought my breakfast. I walked down to the jaldun practice room, selected my blades, and went through the movements on muscle memory alone. In my head, I ran through what it would take for me to even get to a comm panel should we ever find a Hormani ship.

  Valemar was out, doubling the efforts to find one. Based on the information Reina had sent him from Vanerife, he’d had time to ascertain that they weren’t living openly with the Cordair. They’d probably been on the planet less than one Earth year.

  I switched into the next kata and let myself mull over the concept of time. Days were longer on Crenfor. I wasn’t sure by how much, but at least two, maybe as much as four, hours. Blood Moons came every thirty days, almost the same timing as full moons on Earth. I had no idea how long a year was. They did have four seasons, and we were now into autumn. I’d never asked how far north the snows came in winter. Not that I’d get to see winter. Unless we couldn’t find a ship before snow came to the Archjarn. Then footprints would give us away no matter our stealth. I wondered if our enemies would let me live to see the spring.

  I felt more than heard a brush of movement on the stones behind me. I turned, blades raised defensively, to find Valemar standing there. “Aedenfal is losing citizens,” I said.

  Valemar walked over to the rack and armed himself with a sword and a knife. “Others will come to replace them. The Alfari do not want to see Aedenfal fall.”

  My mouth turned up into something resembling a smile. “A rhyme.” Valemar came to stand behind me. “What does ‘Aedenfal’ mean?”

  “The town is older than the Alfari — here, anyway. It means ‘fire fall.’” A shiver marched across my skin. “I suppose that’s why the High has the ‘rabbit warren,’ as you like to call it, of defense. The skies used to burn here.”

  “Mother and Father that they won’t again,” I said.

  I had expected Valemar to lay his arms over mine and teach me a new form, but instead he pressed his back to mine. “Today we work on defense. I want you to learn what it feels like to have someone on your flank, someone you can count on to defend that side. Your muscles, your nerves will be heightened in a fight and learning to trust someone else’s movements at your back can be difficult. It can be the difference between knowing you’re protected and knowing you’re in danger.”

  I swallowed. “I could never keep up with you. And if I’m — we’re — fighting on two sides, wouldn’t the situation be … bad?” I wanted to say “hopeless” but that was too depressing, even for me.

  “You train —”

  “Yeah, yeah. So your body learns what to do and your mind can focus on other things.” I blew out a breath. “Fine. Let’s do this.” I raised my blades. Then furrowed my brow. “How are we going to do this?”

  Valemar chuckled. “Imagine someone standing between you and Daria again. You get him while I watch your back.”

  “Right.” This was never going to work. Valemar would never watch my back. He’d take the front.

  But I could watch his back.

  I bent my knees and became one with the ground. Our blades began to twirl, and I imagined Valemar trying to get us out of here while I gave him time to do so.

  “Astrid. You’re defending.”

  “Of course, I’m defending,” I snapped. “Do I really think you’d let me take point?”

  Valemar grunted. “No, I suppose not. Unless you saw the smug Hormani kwarg who poisoned Daria.”

  “True,” I said, saving my breath. “But I’m not sure which one it was.”

  “Does it matter?” Valemar asked. I was both pleased and irritated that his breathing hadn’t changed at all.

  “Can’t kill them all.”

  “Well, you could try.”

  I rolled my eyes and concentrated on the parries and thrusts of my knives. At first, I was distracted by Valemar’s movements behind me, and mine, though rote, were slow, sluggish. But as my back got used to the feel of him there, I began to develop a
sense of when he’d press or retreat, and the two of us began to move as one.

  “Tomorrow we’ll add Orin and one of the others,” Valemar said when we finished. “Use blunted spears and truly spar.”

  I could feel the bruises already.

  I dressed in red again for dinner. I wore the crown with the cabochon rubies that I’d married in. And I left the place next to me empty. Who would sit at my right hand was a question I wanted Aedenfal to ask themselves. I sat at Valemar’s right, Garris at his left, but who would take the place of honor at the Moon Princess’s — Bánalfar’s queen’s — side?

  Had we been in Torfin, it would have been Brinna. There were several I wanted — Heymond, Orin, Erris, even Shale. Any of them I would have welcomed, but instinct told me that an empty place would make those who remained squirm. Who would rise to help me?

  I had braced myself to see resentment on the faces that greeted me, but there wasn’t any. Padrid even glowed with pride, as if he was responsible for my transformation. For I did feel transformed. The Astrid who had first sat at this table had been in survival mode. Frankly, she’d just hoped to survive her head injury. And then her wedding night.

  I now felt as if a sword hung at my throat, and the moments were rare that I didn’t feel its pinch, didn’t know what the end result would be. And yet, I was so much more than I had been. I was still PS Carr at my core, but I had grown into Astrid Carbrev. It was the name I wanted on my memory stone, though my title wouldn’t be there.

  In reality, my name would probably be on a plaque at Agçay headquarters on Earth, listed with the rest of the crew of the Palmas Cove. Once the Shororato arrived — if I was successful — then they would write their own version of history. And I was slowly making myself okay with that. These people needed me.

  It generally wasn’t good business to come down on a side of right or wrong. Those ideas were usually just a matter of vantage point. Were the Alfari wrong for keeping the Cordair from their former lands for two thousand years? The Cordair would say, “Yes.” Having been to Gladama, I would say, “Show me I can trust you.” But then, Enartin had done that and the Cordair had broken his trust. No, the trees and the land needed to be protected. Off-worlders had disturbed the balance, and it was up to me to put it right.

  I sighed and made sure my smile was still in place. I knew so few of the people in the hall. Just the weaver’s family really. And they were still there. But then, their livelihood was tied up in anapali wool.

  I had one of the servers ask Vienne if she wanted to join me. Heads turned and followed my finger as I pointed her out to him. Even from here, I could see her face turn red.

  “Is that Arken’s wife you’re sending for?” Valemar asked me. The eyes in the room followed the server’s progress.

  “Is he the weaver?” I asked, as the server bent and whispered the invitation to Vienne.

  “Yes.”

  “Then, yes. I am.”

  Valemar washed down the piece of meat he’d been chewing. “What do you think you are doing?” he asked as a grave-faced Vienne now made her way to the high table.

  “Making sure a wedding goes through.” I lifted a smile in place as Vienne joined us and gestured for her to take a seat. The server poured her some wine and passed a plate of meat to her.

  “My queen,” she said, her eyes fixed on the table. “To what do I owe —” She swallowed. “Owe the honor?”

  I realized she was afraid that she, too, would be sent from Aedenfal. She hadn’t been any more welcoming that Laera. “I was glad to see that you and your family are still in Aedenfal. I wanted to see if the plans were still going ahead with Reez and Niah’s wedding.”

  “Nothing has changed, my queen,” Vienne whispered.

  “That is good because so much else has. Please let me know if there is anything that you, or they, need. Aedenfal needs a celebration.” I looked at Niah and Reez, their faces full of worry, and smiled at them. “We need life to go forward. If the worst comes, then they can cling to each other as husband and wife.” There would be no “best” for them. They faced either the Cordair or the Shororato. “Let me make sure that there is at least some joy in Aedenfal.”

  The next night I had Cadalin seated beside me, though I knew the sight of her belly pained Valemar. We talked of babies, of cloth, of my time in Vanerife. “I pray that you, too, have a child,” she said, and rubbed a place on her stomach that had bounced from a kick from within.

  “That has got to hurt,” I said.

  “Sometimes,” Cadalin said, and pressed her fingers against the spot, moving the offending foot. “And it’s not much fun when they kick your bladder. But mostly it’s just such a miracle, knowing there’s another life inside you.”

  “Do you have everything you need?” I asked. “Is there anything at all that I could help you with?”

  Cadalin’s gaze swung to Valemar then fell. “My husband no longer wishes to travel,” she said in a small voice. “It’s not just the baby. He fears being away from me and …”

  “Having you here alone if something happens,” I finished when she didn’t.

  “But if he can’t sell the cloth …” Cadalin wrapped her arms protectively around her belly. Unconsciously, I thought, for her eyes were blank as she stared at the table.

  “Is there an apprentice or journeyman who can travel for him?” Valemar asked from over my shoulder.

  “None he’d trust with so great a task, my king.”

  I bent my head and whispered in Valemar’s ear. “I know you would find this difficult, but couldn’t we have her move in here? Surely it would put her husband at ease, knowing that she and the child are protected. And trade must continue.”

  I hated the pain that entered Valemar’s eyes. He’d hear a child crying, all the while his own cradle would remain empty. And yet —

  “The queen and I would like to offer you our hospitality Grada Cadalin,” Valemar said. I took his hand under the table. “Bánalfar needs your husband’s trade. Perhaps he will rest easier with the assurance that you and his child are guarded well.”

  Cadalin’s eyes grew round and her mouth dropped open. “Someone should be using the solar since I don’t have much time to sew these days,” I said.

  “Thank you, my queen. You are too kind.”

  “Are you going to invite them all here?” Valemar asked me later that evening.

  “In case you haven’t noticed,” I said, “I don’t have many friends. Many women friends. Cadalin and Niah were the closest thing I had here. Even with Laera glowering at me and Daria the whole time.”

  Valemar ran a hand through my hair. “I hadn’t really paid much attention.”

  “Men don’t,” I replied. I kissed his chest. “Is it going to bother you horribly, having a child within these walls?”

  Valemar rolled us over. “Yes,” he said. “I can’t imagine what my father went through, knowing my mother had been able to give birth and then nothing.”

  “Do you know what became of your brother?” Valemar’s eyes widened. “Did you not know?” I asked.

  Valemar slowly shook his head. “Brother. I had a brother.” He rolled off of me. “Such a different concept than ‘child.’” Valemar blinked then rubbed my arm. “No, I don’t know what became of Reina’s child. Moon children are given to the Cair when they’re fifteen days old. Time enough for mothers to pass along their strength and then given to other Moon Mothers to nurse.”

  “Such a different concept,” I said.

  “Why?” Valemar asked. “What do you do with your moon children?”

  “Well, as I told you, we don’t have Blood Moons. In this time period in my planet’s history, a man’s sons were everything. Children born outside of marriage were considered scum, their mothers even worse.”

  “Their mothers?”

  “Well, yes. She’d let someone who wasn’t her husband bed her. And if she bedded someone else’s husband, well — she was the one leading the poor man astray. Muddying the l
ines of succession.”

  “So men were weak on your planet?”

  “No. They were like rutting animals, trying to produce as many children as possible.”

  A puzzled frown grew on Valemar’s face. “But it takes two people to produce a child. So why wouldn’t they want the child? Why would the woman be looked down on?”

  I sighed. “In your mother’s case, your father would have never chosen her. She’d have already proven that she’d take someone else to bed. How could he be certain that you were actually his?” Understanding grew in Valemar’s eyes. “And your brother wouldn’t have disappeared into anonymity. Someone would still have known he was there. Even though it was through your mother, he would have been steps away from the throne, the only brother of the king.”

  “Is that why you asked?” Valemar said. “Are you worried about the succession?”

  “Yes,” I answered.

  “I don’t think I like your Earth,” Valemar said.

  “Why is that?”

  “They seem cruel. Greedy.”

  “That was hundreds of years ago,” I told him. “Now we don’t care who marries whom or if they even marry. We don’t care where children come from, only that they’re loved. Our kings are few, and even then, they have little power.”

  “What? How does that work?”

  “The people rule themselves by elected committee.”

  “How do people learn to lead? How do they learn what is needed to keep a country together?”

  “They do it by committee,” I said.

  Valemar snorted. “How foolish.” He looked at me with suspicion. “Do you think committees are better than kings?”

  “I think a good committee is better than a bad king and that even a good king needs to listen to the advice of others.”

  Valemar’s mouth thinned. I couldn’t tell if he was happy with my answer or not. “Good answer, wife,” he finally said. But he didn’t smile. Valemar caressed my face with the back of his hand, a frown growing.