“Lehmor, let me see if I’ve got this right. You refused a direct order from the Lady?”
“No,” Lehmor protested. “She let me choose.”
Valentiner raised her hand to stop him. “The darkness is here, as has been foretold. Soon, the One will wake the Dreamers.” They all gawked at her and the eerie authority her voice carried. Only the shaman nodded in agreement, unperturbed by the discrepancy between the voice and its origin. Valentiner ignored their stares, to continue. “Even the Orbs are split. Not since the Ancient War has this come to pass. It is a time to choose; a time to fight; a time to grow.”
Marl took a step closer, then paused and returned back into the shadows, deep worry lines scarring his face. He cupped his body with his arms, as if to keep himself warm.
“We’ll help,” a familiar voice rang in David’s head. Voice! You’re back! His heart skipped a beat with excitement. For the first time in months, his body tingled with the anticipation of being whole again. But this was different; she was no longer inside of him. She sounded remote, as if hovering just outside his reach.
“You need us,” was her simple reply.
What should we do?
“What Valentiner said. Choose. Fight. Grow,” the Voice replied.
But we should obey the Old Woman!
“You should obey what you know in your heart to be true. What does your heart tell you now?”
I don’t know!
“Sometimes the wrong choice is the right one,” the Voice said.
What do you mean?
No reply came, and the feeling of emptiness threatened to swallow him again. It had been so long since he had last felt complete; it had taken him months to get used to the loneliness. This brief interaction only served to remind him of what he had lost, and a wave of resentment washed over him. What does it matter, he thought bitterly. You only show up when you need me. Where were you when Lem died? You’re nothing but cowards. His anger grew with each word he thought, each accusation he hurled at her.
Deep inside he knew this was not true, but he wanted to hurt the Voice; make her share his pain. His lips curled downwards in a deep frown, and he absent-mindedly raised himself to his feet and rubbed his aching temples. Only when he felt everyone’s stare on him did he realise he was standing, mumbling to himself. He coughed to cover the embarrassment, then sat down again. The shaman smiled in encouragement, giving him a knowing look.
“I think Valentiner’s right,” Tie said. “We must do what’s right. No one knows the Lady’s will; not even the Old Woman. If there’s a split, we need to be on the side of justice, for that’s where the Lady will be, too.”
“What do you know of the Lady’s will? You worship Themis,” Two-horns said.
“Who do you think Justice Dar based Themis on when she came up with the new religion?” Tie asked.
“The Lady’s will be done,” Two-horns mumbled. “The Iotas will attack soon, if Lehmor’s right. This is too serious a matter for us to decide. We should wait for Moirah’s father to return. He’s our sole leader now. He’ll know what to do.”
“Not the Iotas. Pratin,” Lehmor corrected him.
“Does it make a difference?” David complained.
Lehmor glared at him. “Yes. It makes all the difference.”
“Pratin,” Two-horns agreed. “In the meantime, we let the tribes know. If it comes to that, we ask them who will follow the Lady’s…” His voice trailed off, and he lost himself in thought for a moment. “…The Old Woman’s will, and who stays to fight.”
“Malekshei will fall, unless we’re together.” Valentiner’s stark warning sent shivers up and down David’s spine; then his face flushed with anger. It’s not fair!
“I’m staying,” Lehmor said with determination. “This is my doing. My responsibility.”
“Then I’m staying, too,” Moirah said. “My father can lead the Fire clan out of Malekshei when he returns, but I’m not leaving Lehmor.”
“I’m taking my daughter and we’re gone,” Marl said from behind them, emerging from the shadows.
“You’re not a prisoner, you can go whenever you wish,” Two-horns snapped, without turning to face him.
“No, Dad. Everyone dies if we leave now,” Valentiner said calmly. “Even Mom.” Marl opened his mouth to protest, but something in her voice made him shrink back into the darkness instead, milking the air with his fists.
“The Argikar are gone. My duty’s to the tribes. I will keep safe those who leave,” the shaman said, sadness in his voice. “What about you?” he asked Tie. “Care to join me?”
“Argikar or not, these people here will also need a spiritual leader. I may serve Themis, but I’m as versed in the Lady’s teachings as the next man. I think I’ll stay,” she replied.
“I’ll leave,” David said. “We can’t fight a war against the Lady’s will.”
Lehmor gaped at him, his face a mix of hurt and surprise. “You’re leaving?”
David looked away. “If there’s a split in the Orbs, it’s because you caused it. You should have obeyed the Old Woman.”
“And kill innocents? Punish them for Pratin’s sins?” Lehmor blurted out. “I looked up to you,” he said with bitterness. “But you’re as blind as Abaddon.”
“Stop it, you two,” Moirah scolded them. “This is not the time.” She turned to David. “If you wish to leave, we won’t stop you. But there’s a way to serve both the Lady and the tribes.”
“What’s that?” he murmured. Why did the right decision feel so wrong?
“You can send for help.”
“Who will help us?” David said with bitterness. “Cyrus wishes me dead. The Voice has left me. Even the Old Woman has forsaken us.”
She smiled in sympathy. “You’re a Newcomer. How about Jonia?”
His forehead creased in thought. “They hate Cyrus, so they might be willing to help. But I doubt they can afford many men; they have their own war to wage.”
“Then, look farther,” Tie said. “Jonia’s not the Capital’s only enemy.”
“No, that’s true,” David agreed. “The Democracies might agree to help us.”
“Then, go there for help,” Moirah said. “With any luck, the Iota won’t attack before your return. Afterwards, you can go wherever you wish.”
“Very well,” David agreed. “I’ll go to Anthea first. They were at war with the Capital not too long ago. Sol, their ruler, is ambitious and smart; perhaps she’ll see the wisdom of allying herself to the tribes.”
“In that case, it’s settled,” Two-horns said and raised himself to his feet. “We all know what to do.”
“What about you?” Lehmor interrupted him.
Before Two-horns had a chance to reply, the door burst open and two men hurried inside. They carried a man in a makeshift gurney, hastily cobbled together with sticks and hides. His deep-set eyes were feverish, standing out against his white skin as two blood-shot holes. The stench of rotting flesh, emanating from deep wounds all over his body, filled the room. “What is the meaning of this?” Two-horns said, his angry voice booming in the hall.
The men bowed their heads. “We’re sorry to intrude,” the older one said. “We thought you should know immediately. A patrol found him in the woods. He was with the expedition.”
Moirah raised her head in surprise. “My father’s expedition? What happened?”
The two men carefully placed the gurney next to the fire and melted into the far shadows of the room. The shaman held his arm up to stop the Council from rushing to the man’s side. “Step back. Let me examine him first.” He leaned next to the listless man and placed one hand on his forehead, the other holding his wrist softly. His head touched the man’s chest and listened attentively through all his senses. “He doesn’t have long,” he whispered.
Valentiner slipped by his side. She took the shaman’s hand in one little hand, and held the man’s hand with the other, murmuring a repetitive, soothing song. The shaman followed the tune. It meant
nothing to David, and he thought with bitterness back to the days when the Voice translated and explained everything to him. To his surprise, the man soon pried his eyes open.
“He’s conscious!” David blurted out.
Valentiner shot him an annoyed look, then craned her head to the man’s lips. He whispered something, then she murmured something to his ear and he whispered something back. They continued until the man finally closed his eyes again.
David eyed her questioningly, but she shook her head and waved them to leave the man alone. Only the shaman remained by his side, murmuring a new song; a plaintive one.
“What did he say?” Moirah asked, her pretty face a mask of agony. She was squeezing Lehmor’s hand so hard, that David wondered how he stopped himself from crying in pain.
“They went west first, but found no Fallen,” Valentiner said. “Heading back east, they caught the trail of a pack, heading north. For two weeks, their prey eluded them. When they finally caught up with them, it was a trap, an ambush.”
“How many?” Two-horns asked.
“Hundreds, he said.”
The blood left David’s face. “That can’t be right. There haven’t been so many Fallen in the Haunted Forest in thousands of years. And who heard of Fallen waiting in ambush?”
Valentiner raised her head to stare at Lehmor, her amber eyes filled with sadness. “They were not alone,” she said. “A tattooed man led them.”
Lehmor took an involuntary step back, as if she had punched him.
“What about my father?” Moirah asked, white as snow. “Had he seen him?”
“Your father ordered him to warn us. He said they would hold them off as long as they could.”
Moirah brought a fist to her mouth. “Is he…” She dared not say any more.
Valentiner shook her head. “He doesn’t know. On his way back, the pack of Fallen they had been tailing waylaid him. They left him for dead. He… He doesn’t think anyone made it.”
Moirah’s loud wails filled the hall. Lehmor tried to take her in his arms, but she pushed him away. “This is all your fault,” she yelled. David watched the blood leave Lehmor’s face and remembered Valentiner’s words. The darkness is here, she had said.
“Lehmor’s friends are not coming,” Two-horns whispered to David’s ear, as if to confirm his fears. “They’re already here.” A sad smile crawled on his lips. “You’d better hurry, my boy.”
David headed towards the door, stealing one last look behind him. Moirah collapsed into Lehmor’s arms, sobbing. David’s heart sunk at the sight of Lehmor’s drawn face and Moirah’s despair. He spun around and rushed out of the room, wishing to be as far away as possible from the approaching darkness.
Shortly afterwards, he was filling a satchel with provisions, when Annoush appeared at the door. “I hear you are leaving,” he said.
David did not turn his head, trying to decide if he needed a second pair of boots for the journey. “We are leaving,” he said.
“I’m staying.”
David dropped the satchel on the bed and faced the young man. “You will probably die if you do,” he said softly.
“I know.”
David’s brow creased. “Then, why stay?”
“I ran away from the Slums. Ran from Altman. Ran from Gauld. Ran from Cyrus.” Annoush’s lips turned downwards, as if sickened by himself, and he shook his head with disdain. “I’m done running.”
David’s mind returned to the first time he had met Annoush. Altman had let the boy live at Parad’s request. Gaul had imprisoned them both, but David and his companions had rescued them on their way to the executioner’s block. “You’ll achieve nothing by staying,” he said.
“David, how many battles have you fought?”
David raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Dozens, I guess. Why?”
“I haven’t fought a single one. My first day on the field was the day I killed Tang. I did it to save Altman, but he nearly killed me.” He let out a soft laughter. “A soldier who’s never fought a battle; how funny is that?”
“And you think that dying here will make you a soldier?”
“I’m not afraid of dying. I’ve seen the general, you know.”
“What do you…”
“He comes to me. In my sleep. He’s always looked out for me, even now that he’s dead.” Seeing David’s face, he hurried to add, “I know it sounds crazy –”
David raised his hand to stop him, a soft smile on his lips. “Less than you might think. Go on.”
“Last night he came to me. He said Malekshei will fall, but my death will save everyone. He gave me a choice.”
David blinked in surprise. “You can’t die, you’re just a boy.”
It was Annoush’s turn to smile. “The Slums are no place for boys. I don’t remember ever being one.”
“Still, there must be a way.”
“There is. If you stay, Malekshei can be saved.”
David staggered back, his face flushed with anger. “This is a trick. It wasn’t Parad talking to you. It was the Whispers. They want me to break the Lady’s will. I won’t!”
Annoush’s smile turned bitter. “He said you’d say that. That’s why I have to stay.”
David glared at the boy. “Do what you must. I’m leaving.” He spun around and grabbed his boots to shove them into the satchel. When he faced the door, Annoush had gone.
The Marshes
Gella
“Get up!”
Gella groaned and tried to move, but her body refused to obey her. She could barely see through her swollen right eye, and her throat burned with blood. Every breath was laborious. Resigning, she let herself sink back to the darkness.
“Get up! You don’t have much time!”
She cracked her burning eyelids open and tried to lift her head. The voice sounded familiar, but no one was around. She squinted; all she could see was a thin sliver of blue sky coming through tall treetops. Her head hit the ground with a dull thud and she sighed, shivering with fever. She welcomed the darkness about to swallow her, when a small sphere made of light shimmered in front of her. The smell of lavender and citrus filled her blood-crusted nostrils. She gasped and stared at it. Millions of colours danced within, forming a familiar face.
“Parad…”
“Gella, you must get up. You’ve lost a lot of blood. Please, you must hurry.”
She made another effort and managed to crawl to her side. Burning pain filled every inch of her body, and she screamed, before sinking back onto the ground, exhausted.
The orb circled her nervously, then made up its mind and dashed towards her. A loud groan escaped her lips as it plunged into her torso. Her whole body burned, fire spreading outwards from her chest. First one leg stretched, then another. Soon, she found herself crawling towards an opening between two trees. No longer in control of her limbs, she welcomed the feeling of surrender, closing her shattered eyes.
She popped them open for a second as she lost her footing and rolled off a gentle slope. Memories of a little girl spinning on the grass filled her head. She giggled and turned, enjoying the dizzy sensation. The pain was gone, leaving only a swimming sensation behind.
When she stopped rolling, she found herself at the bottom of a small crater, facing a thick bush. Her arm lifted itself into the air and pressed forward, passing through the leaves, ignoring the scratching thorns. She frowned in confusion when her hand found a metallic rectangle and pushed. A soft whoosh sounded, then light flickered through the foliage for a moment, before steadying itself into a bright opening. Her limbs pushed aside the branches while she crawled inside.
She blinked a few times, her swelling eyes struggling to take in the unfamiliar sight of a white, rectangular room through caked blood. Unfamiliar, yet not unpleasant smells filled the room. A name was painted in black letters on a wall, underneath a big red cross: “UES Pearseus. Emergency medical bay.”
Everyone thought that all technology from the ship that had brought their an
cestors to the planet three centuries ago had already been discovered. Of course, every now and then someone would stumble upon an ancient uniform or some other debris; these were highly valued, for both sentimental and practical reasons. A few decades ago, an intact supply pod had been found buried in the Marshes; it had been the find of the century. The villagers that had stumbled upon it had pillaged it, of course, and items from it still surfaced in the black market. But the only medical bay she had ever heard of was the one Teo was rumoured to have rebuilt in the Capital. To have found a second one in the middle of a forest just when she needed it was too much of a coincidence.
Not a coincidence, a voice inside her head scolded her. I guided you here.
“Thank you for using the emergency hospital unit,” said a pleasant woman’s voice next to her. She had not heard anyone approach, and jumped out of her skin with fright. Spinning around, she almost bumped into a translucent woman in a white shirt and matching skirt. A funny cap with a red cross covered the top of her head. The woman smiled politely at Gella. “Please place any wounded members of your party onto the gurney,” she instructed, motioning towards the centre of the room.
“Help me,” Gella said and tried to lean against the nurse. Her hand passed through the woman’s shoulder, making her lose her balance and crash to the floor. A groan escaped her clenched teeth as she staggered towards a gurney. With the final remnants of her strength, she managed to climb on it and sank onto the soft, smooth surface. A flickering beam of light appeared from a small protrusion on the ceiling and travelled up and down her body, tickling her skin. The wall beside her lit up into a sketch of a human body. Various numbers, letters and multi-coloured lines and shapes danced on it.
The nurse now stood next to her, a look of distant worry on her semi-transparent face. She seemed to be studying the wall, murmuring to herself. Gella had trouble focusing, only catching sporadic words.
“Loss of blood… Internal haemorrhaging… Critical condition…” “We will operate immediately,” she said to no one in particular. Then, to Gella, “Please hold still.”
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