Fallen Warrior (Fallen Trilogy book 3)

by Williams, Tess

  "How?" someone called.

  "I don't know," the speaker admitted. "Nain wasn't in a state to give the full tale before I left. The commander was privy to some of it, but he was not with Nain."

  "Where is the released commander now?"

  The speaker shook his head, uncertain.

  "Why would one of Lox's lieutenants free the prince of Karatel?" someone asked.

  "Nain didn't know."

  "There must be a reason."

  "Does he plan to defy Lox?"

  "What about the other commanders?"

  While the chamber went on with questions, with the speaker trying his best to answer, I watched them with my hands clinging tightly to the wall in front of me.

  I wanted to shout out to ask where he was. And yet I couldn't even open my mouth for the joy that was locking my throat. My chest was a flurry of bliss and excitement. I thought I could have stood hearing this news repeated forever, like I'd never felt so at peace, and so content. Not from anything I'd ever heard. Nothing my whole life. But at the same time, I felt like I couldn't stand still one more moment without being with him. Without touching him, kissing him, without being one with him. After a whole lifetime of never being close enough, it seemed like there was nothing left to keep me from him. Even if he was not here, even if he was in Selket with Nain, even if he was captured in Akadia, the distance didn't matter.

  My head flooded with the delirium of it, and the Warrior's chamber, which had become in the past weeks so cold to me, was now golden with warmth.

  The speaker shushed the crowd. "Wait, that's not all of it. And I think it will answer many of your questions, so let me tell it out." This digress had mostly worked, though some still spoke on. He took a breath that lifted his whole body, then spoke on loudly. "After Nain came to us, and we went to seek out the behemoths, we got word from the outer cities. Reports came in from our spies shortly after. Nain doesn't believe that the Lieutenant had plans to overthrow Lox, but he was captured all the same. And Lox, he has some sort of new weapon, some monster, there's different reports of what it might be, but he used it— Against the— against Dracla."

  The chamber was in no way quiet, many were still muttering excitedly, giddy over the effect of the behemoths' freedom. Still Lodan's voice rang clear from the crowd.

  "What do you mean he used it?"

  "Well, I mean, he's dead. Lox executed him. None of us were very surprised, of course, considering what he'd done, but..."

  He went on talking, but I didn't hear it. I kept hearing his first words over and again instead. Well, I mean, he's dead. Lox executed him. Dead. Lox's executed him. Dead. Executed. My fingers lost their grip on the wall.

  I was in another time, out by the ruins outside of Uldin Keep with Cyric, on a cold day. I'd tossed off my long coat, and now I stuck a knife into the air, one Cyric had just gotten for his first battle in the army. I was fifteen at the time.

  "So it would be like this," I said, mimicking a swipe to the imaginary goblin I'd detailed, "Then you turned. Then you ducked. Then you came up and knocked him in the shoulder."

  "No. I kicked him in the leg," Cyric correctly boredly. He'd put up with my re-enactment of his part in the battle only because I'd kept pestering him. He leaned against a nearby wall, and he was looking at the trees rather than me, only glancing back every so often.

  "You kicked him in the leg," I adjusted mimicking it, nearly tripping in my dress, but I straightened myself and remembered the rest of it. "Then he dropped to his knees, then you swiped across his neck." I brought the knife around to copy the movement, but before I could I felt a hand on my wrist. It was so warm and unexpected, I turned without a word to see why he had stopped me. His body was very close, but his eyes were locked on the knife instead of me, and for one second, his expression was strained.

  Then his gaze flicked to mine. His features straightened. He made a show of pulling my hand, then turning it over, and taking his weapon. "Right. You've done it. Can we quit with this now?"

  I frowned, pouting my lips. "Don't you like that I want to know how your first battle went?"

  "No," he replied, almost immediately, "Why would I care?"

  I growled, crossing my arms against the cold. "Oh. You were in a better mood before you left. I won't want you to go if you're going to get like soldiers always do. Brutish. Rude."

  "Whether you want me to go or not. I'm a soldier, now. I have to fight. There's not much you could do about it."

  "I could talk to my father any time of day I like," I retorted. "Or Vossler. I'll tell them I want you in my guard and you'll never get to fight the goblins again."

  Cyric stopped at the wall a few feet away. He was playing with the tip of his knife, but now he looked up at me. "You think they'd listen to you? By all means then, try."

  "It would work."

  "Of course. Who wouldn't concede to the princess."

  "Don't start that again. I mean it, I would."

  "I know you mean it."

  "Then watch me. I'll go and you'll be sorry."

  "The Keep's that way," he said. But he didn't even gesture in the direction. He turned around, leaning forward on the wall and still fiddling with the knife in his hand.

  I lifted my chest up tall, prepared to do just as he suggested. I even put my coat back on, throwing up my fur-lined hood. But then I looked at him, all fitted in his leather armor, with his shoulders hunched over and one of his boots kicked back. I stepped carefully up beside him, my lips worming together and then apart. "I thought that you wanted to tell me about the battle. I thought that since I couldn't go, you would tell me what it was like."

  "I did tell you, Ellie," he sighed. "I just told it to you five times. If you've gone through the steps yourself, I think that's sufficient."

  "You told me what you did. But you haven't told me anything about how it felt."

  "It's a battle. It's not about feelings."

  "Isn't it exciting at least?"

  "No. It's not."

  "What about killing the goblins? I've imagined it would be a sort of righteous thrill. Wasn't it?"

  Cyric's arm hand tensed and he looked over at me. His brow was narrowed, and it felt like he was searching for something on my face though not very happy about it. My hood was rimming the edges of my vision.

  "Cyric?"

  He turned back to the forest. "No. When they die. You can't feel righteous. Because they're not evil anymore. Their eyes go dark, and then they're just a body. There's nothing left to hate, because they're just nothing." He looked down at his hands, his eyes narrowed. "And you can't bring them back—even if you wanted.... They're really gone for good."

  I frowned, watching him, wondering at his thoughts.

  The memory rolled away. My fingers dug into the wall of the bench for a moment, and I felt like I was gasping for air. But I had stayed perfectly still. The speaker was still answering questions and the room was full of chaos, much of it happy, joyful, chaos. My eyes were strict ahead. I felt a tear roll down my face. Then I blinked a dozen times. I pushed away from the wall, unaware of anything else, just moving one foot in front of the other. I could hear each tap of my heel.

  When the cold of outside hit me, I truly did gasp. Then I took in my surroundings enough to head away from the sounds of the chamber, away from the cheers, away from everything. I didn't stop until I'd reached the edge of platform, where I could see the ocean past the trees, even though I didn't know how I'd found it. Luffie dropped down from the sky; but without even coming close to me, she went to its corner and stood. She did not invade my thoughts. That was when I heard the footsteps, and then the voice.

  "Ellia,"

  I shook my head.

  He took another step closer to me. I watched the dark waves rolling forward, far out from the shoreline. I watched nothing.

  "You wanted me to tell you how your brother died," I said. I felt a catch in my throat. "You deserve to know."

  "Don't do this now," he argued.


  "I want to. Please. Or I never will." I didn't wait for him to answer. "When I left Shaundakul, when I was first taken, it was long after the battle had ended. He saved me the first time by agreeing to bring me along with the other captives. We were alone. Then, on the way, he offered to let me go. Even though he was an Akadian captain, even though it was dangerous for him, he even tried to convince me. I didn't go because I didn't want to separate from my people, and I was worried for my friend, the same one they just spoke of. Cyric Dracla. I'd lost him after the battle, and I didn't know if he'd survived.

  "Once I got to Akadia, Tobias saved me again. I was going to be a handmaiden, and it, well it would have been terrible, but he sent me belowground instead. You might think that sounds cruel, so did I at the time, but it kept me safe. I think even at this point he might have guessed who I was..." I shook my head. "He didn't tell anyone, though it might have been invaluable. He didn't leave me to the underground either. He took me to see the fields of radiance, which was where the behemoths had once lived. He told me of Akadia in the old days. He loved Akadia, as much as I loved Shaundakul. He loved it even after what it had become. And he was fighting to change it back into a good kingdom. He told me this about the same time that I came to be with Cyric again. It was Lox that brought Cyric and I together; I didn't know it at the time, but he'd already been moving Cyric along to his side of things, to joining Akadia. You know my feelings for Cyric?... I trusted him. I..." I put everything into keeping my voice strict. "I told him about your brother's position. Tobias hadn't told me anything yet, of what he was truly doing, but it didn't matter. There was a morning, Tobias took me to the granted temple, though it was restricted. I was going to show him my power, to see if it could help my people. He taught me the sword trick I so often use.

  "Then Lox came. With Lox was Cyric. Lox threatened to send me belowground. Tobias protected me, but I thought that we could defeat Lox. I still thought Cyric was on my side, even though he'd brought Lox there. Tobias knew better. He tried to keep my identity hidden from Lox, but in the end, Cyric told him. Then Cyric and Tobias fought."

  I felt wet pricks on my face and didn't know if it was the sting of tears, of rain, or ocean water.

  "You told me when we first spoke of Tobias that to the Warriors a person's character is revealed in their death. I can't explain, but even as they were fighting, it didn't seem like Tobias was angry with Cyric. He pleaded with him to see through Lox's lies. It was almost as if he pitied Cyric more than anything, and he was trying to help him, even up until the end." In my own mind, I saw Cyric disarm Tobias. Heard Lox telling Cyric to kill Tobias. And watched as Cyric dropped his arm, but this part I would not tell Lucian, because it didn't mean anything. It didn't change the wrong that was done against Tobias, by me, and by Cyric. "Lox was the one to kill him. And he was cruel. But Tobias just looked at me and told me to run. It was the last thing he said. And I was terrified. But he didn't seem afraid at all."

  I felt two hands on my shoulders, and I started sobbing. Lucian turned me around and I cried against him. I heard a rumble from Luffie, as she bore my grief. When Lucian moved a hand to my head, I stepped back far enough to look up at him, my voice breaking through tears. "Do you know what Carceron said to me in the granted temple, Lucian? He said that the dead don't see stars. Remember I argued that the stars shine for the good and bad, and that the Granted could have mercy just the same. He said that the dead don't see them, Lucian. And it's true, isn't it? It's my fault that Tobias is dead. It's mine just the same as Cyric's. Why am I not dead? If he deserved to die than I do too. Why am I still here without him? I don't want to be. I don't want be." Sobs tore through me again, and I couldn't see. Lucian held me and told me things, assurances, while I apologized for Tobias's death, but I couldn't hear any of it. Eventually he made me stop, and if he hadn't been holding me, I would have fallen to the floor of the platform.

  Then I could only think of Tobias, and Cyric, my father, and Kraehe, and the nothingness of death.

  Luffie came close to me to assure me of her presence.

  And somehow I survived the night.

  PART TWO

  Change the colors of the sky, and open up to

  The ways you made me feel alive, the ways I loved you

  For all the things that never died, to make it through the night

  Chapter Eight

  CYRIC:

  I remembered thinking that the burning was lasting too long. I remembered I thought it was the worst pain I'd ever experienced. And then I remembered nothing. And I thought nothing. And I knew nothing. Only pain. I felt eternities of pain. And then I would vanish into nothingness. And then the burning would come again. I heard voices, but I didn't dream. Sometimes I saw lights, but could never make them out as anything.

  The first time it had been lessened in any degree, I was coherent enough to decide that I was being punished. That this was whatever came after life, and I was being punished for the evil I'd done.

  I wanted the nothingness. When I wasn't burning, I was shivering, or else I was ill, sometimes all at once. Whenever I came to consciousness I would experience thirst so great that it felt like my insides were scraping, and then water would wash down my throat, and soon it seemed like I was sick from it, but still I was thirsty.

  I gradually began to realize that the times of awareness were accompanied by movement, like the world around me was shaking. Then once I woke in a small room of wood. With a bed and a candle lit far away from me. And I saw wraps over my body, but within seconds the pain had forced me away.

  Not long after that I began to hear a voice telling me to drink. Always telling me drink. Drink. Drink more. And sometimes the water would be for my skin, relieving the burning for precious moments.

  I began to dream. I dreamt of everything, but most of all Ellia and when she wasn't there, I called for her. I was so scared and so weak that I wasn't able to make myself strong enough to care. I started to forget what it was like to be strong. It was during a fit that the voice first spoke to me in more than just the one word.

  "Quiet boy. You must be calm."

  "I need—"

  "I know. Drink more. Be calm. It will lessen. It will lessen."

  So I did as he said when the pain was un-bearable. And it did lessen. Day by day, it did lessen.

  #

  I tasted dust in my mouth. Everything was silent. I opened my eyes and stared at the ceiling above me. It was made of tarp, covered over with dark canvas. It was maroon in color, but to me it looked grey. There wasn't much light coming in from outside, though from the sounds I expected it was late morning. The candles inside the tent had all burnt out.

  A thick wooden pole stood at the center of the space, holding up the top and linking to others along the sides. There was a second bed and a few trunks, bettered with items.

  I'd tossed my blankets off in the night—to be free of the heat that seemed constantly to chase me. The taste of dust came from the floor of the tent which was made up of grassy dirt, but I sat up to take a drink anyways. I winced for the pain at my side, but ignored it until I'd had my fill of water, then I examined the bandage over my ribs. It was one of the only ones I still had. Another on my left forearm. The back of my shoulder. My leg, over my right thigh. I pulled it away and narrowed at the redness, thinking I must have scratched the burn while I slept. There was a bowl of ointment left sitting out beside my bed. I dipped two fingers in it, and applied it to the wound.

  The relief was almost immediate. This medicine, ansubstance that both sterilized and cooled the burning, was what I'd thought was water on my skin my moments of half-consciousness. The first time I'd woken fully, I'd been covered in it, along with bandages. I'd seen a dark figure working over my leg, otherwise a small room with a single set of candles.

  The pain I'd been experiencing had felt so subdued that I'd tried immediately to sit up, but my elbows brushed against my wraps, sending them to a fit of painful burning.

  "No. No moving. No mov
ing," said the voice.

  It was the same one that I'd heard so many times.

  "I can't," I groaned. "It hurts."

  "Stay still. It will be better."

  "I think I'm going to be sick."

  "It will feel like that, but you won't be. You haven't eaten anything. You might shake, try to stay as you are."

  I felt a shiver run through my torso at the same time he lifted my left elbow; the one that was now burning worse than anything else.

  "I can't. I don't want this. I can't make myself stop." A spasm crept into my neck, forcing me to slam my shoulder back into the bed. Tears stung around my eyes and I realized that I was swallowing back sobs.

  A wet cloth pressed against my head and the man began to shush me consolingly. He moved the cloth to different places on my face, until my body settled. I thought that I would fall back into unconsciousness, but I stayed awake. I blinked the tears from my eyes, feeling them cut a sharp path across my skin.

  The sight above was a ceiling—made up of wide strips of wood. They were crimson in color, or at least they looked that way in the firelight. They were dotted with grain and I found myself studying the light as it scattered different patterns.

  "Where am I?" I asked.

  He'd moved back to working on my elbow. "At an inn on the outskirts of Karatel. We're safe."

  "How—"

  "Eat first," he said. "If you can talk, you can eat. You need to try."

  I felt a bowl touch the edge of my mouth. It tipped up and I was swallowing something cool and thick, but bland. The familiar taste told me it hadn't been the first time.

  "We left Akadia some days ago," the man replied, just as he took the bowl away. "I kept you hidden there the first night. Since then we've been moving through the desert."

  It dawned on me slowly—because the words were so plain, and were forming a picture that made a sort of sense—that I wasn't dead, that this pain wasn't in some other realm at all. "I don't understand."