The Path of the Fallen

by Dan O'Brien

  Lassen regarded Fairhair with a thin smile. “They are beginning to move. Two convoys have arrived as of last week, one of which contained Leane of House Di’letirich.”

  Another of those assembled cleared his throat.

  He was by far the oldest-looking in the room. His receding hair line was shaved short, making the color of his hair indistinct. His brown eyes squinted as he talked. Crow lines along his temples marked much time in the sun. His sleeves were rolled up, and his clenched fists lay on the wooden table beside him. “Must have been mighty close to manage such a confident description,” mused Er’eil. His real name required an advanced degree to pronounce properly.

  Lassen shook his head. If only they could get that close, there wouldn’t be much of a war at all. “They passed through a checkpoint south of Duirin and didn’t hide the fact that they were traveling to Illigard. Then again, we weren’t on alert until last night.”

  “Big deal. She isn’t anything more than a figurehead in a failing government body. The Greater Commerce will be dissolved soon enough, and it will be a miracle if they even have a home, much less that somebody would care that she was of a House that no longer exists,” spoke Fairhair with a degree of disdain. His hatred of the upper echelons of the Culouth society was a rather common sentiment among those who were stationed on the Lower Plane.

  Most hadn’t seen the Upper Plane in years.

  Some, like Lassen, hadn’t in decades.

  “She is related to the mion and that makes for plenty of pull in Culouth,” spoke the smallest of the four; his was the loudest, most obnoxious voice of them all. He was called P’ion by his people and was known for his religious zeal and strange streaks of spirituality that he, of course, shared with his brethren of the squadron.

  “That is indeed something that must be taken into consideration. Her attachment to Fe’rein could create a rather distracting chain of events if we are instructed to try and lay siege to Illigard. She could potentially get in the way,” conceded Lassen as he folded his arms across his broad chest.

  “Any word from the other outpost at the edge of the wasteland?” queried Fairhair with a nod to the others.

  “A lot of the same. Thousands of refugees and would-be soldiers are streaming in from the south,” replied Lassen with a sad shake of his head.

  “Not to mention the talk of Umordoc wanting to join Illigard. The presence of the guardian of Leane’s child proves only to aid their cause,” continued P’ion. Opening the door to the sea of soldiers below in the courtyard, he gestured to them with a sweep of his hand. “Each day their numbers begin to rival our own. No offense, but T’elen is known for being more than most can handle.”

  “If they were to attack, we would be at a disadvantage. However, T’elen knows that her safety lies in the wasteland. No land army can penetrate that infernal swamp and it is highly unlikely that we would be able to drop in enough troops to overrun them. Illigard is a fortress,” replied Lassen, sitting back in one of the wooden chairs.

  “The question is: will they attack without provocation?” queried Fairhair, lifting one of his eyebrows to accent his question.

  “The Resistance sees the Intelligence as provocation enough. Had General Marion still been alive, then there might have been a possibility that they would have risked such a charge across the wasteland, sacrificing many for his agenda. But, T’elen is a far smarter beast. She will plot and wait. She knows Culouth will come in force and that the Stone Tower will be the staging point,” replied Lassen.

  The door had remained open, and the noise of those accumulated outside continued to rise. There was a clamor now followed by the sound of machinery and then the thrusters of a transport. Lassen was the first to the door as the messenger returned. His stiff salute returned, and Lassen waved it away just as quick.

  “A transport approaches from Duirin,” he spoke, his voice rattled. It was no secret within the Stone Tower that Illigard would soon incite war and destruction.

  The name itself brought distrust.

  Lassen looked at the others in wonderment. It appeared the Fates worked in mysterious ways. “Show them in immediately,” and then added, “Dismissed.”

  “Did she come all this way despite what we know?” asked Er’eil.

  Lassen flashed him a grin. “We will have to wait and see.”

  They did not have to wait long.

  The shouts of the messenger could be heard, and then his startled scream as T’elen threw him from the staircase into the swimming bodies below.

  Lassen could not hide his grin.

  T’elen was indeed a force to be reckoned with. She bowed slightly as she entered. The concept of a salute was something she did not acknowledge, though she addressed him properly. “Field General Lassen, it has been too long.”

  Lassen bowed back and then gestured to the others.

  “You remember my lieutenants. Er’eil, P’ion.”

  She nodded to each.

  “What can I do for you?”

  The distrust was thick in his voice.

  T’elen did not miss the venom of his words. “You have heard the whispers?” she queried, circling into the room. Her battle garb was accompanied by a flowing body veil.

  Lassen nodded again. “I have heard rumors that you are the leader of the Resistance, that you have begun amassing an army to battle against the Intelligence.”

  “I lead those who wish to battle tyranny, oppression.”

  “There is talk of the Ai’mun’hereun, of something that cannot be. So, we are divided. Religion is not something that comes before our charge.”

  “Has word reached the Intelligence of what we wish to do? Have their spies discovered our plans?” she challenged.

  Lassen allowed his frustration to surface. “Are you searching me out? Trying to find our weak points? Why have you come here?”

  “I have come to ask where your allegiance lies.”

  Lassen was dumbstruck, and it showed.

  T’elen was truly a bold woman.

  “Are you daft? We are soldiers of Culouth. We are loyal to our nation,” interjected Fairhair. His voice tried to sound hard, but his mannerisms were far too gentle. He received only a stern glare from Lassen for his impertinence.

  T’elen seemed unfazed by the younger officer’s outburst. “You once walked the walls of Illigard, Lassen. There must still be an allegiance to those who embraced you when you were green.” She moved around the room, eyeing each soldier with a neutral gaze. “With the added infantry here and this outpost, the Lower Plane would be impenetrable. For Culouth to place troops on our battlefield, they would have to use the remote transports, which are hundreds upon hundreds of miles away. Together, we could defeat the Intelligence alongside the Ai’mun’hereun, for he is no myth. He will come to pass.”

  There was a stunned silence during which T’elen continued to pace. Her words had them on the ropes. She continued. “Illigard is a fortress. You know that, and I know that. You will be fodder for Kyien’s men. After I leave here, there will not be another chance.”

  “You would ask me to betray my nation?”

  There was fire in T’elen’s eyes. “I would ask you to save your men. I will kill those who threaten the safety of Illigard.”

  Lassen reeled as if stung.

  It was P’ion who spoke next.

  His tan skin was marred with scars, and his face wrinkled as he spoke. “There is no gift greater than freedom. But some men would leave families and lives behind to do what you say. It would not only be a betrayal of country, but also of family.”

  T’elen was not convinced. “They took that risk the moment they became soldiers. That is an argument I will not buy,” she snapped and then wheeled on Lassen. “The Ai’mun’hereun will come. He will kill Fe’rein, and the Intelligence shall be broken.”

  The finality of her words struck Lassen. He watched her as she stalked toward the door. T’elen turned as she reached the doorframe, craning her neck back, exposing a b
eauty not often seen. “I will await your response, Field General.”

  As she left the gawking soldiers of the Stone Tower, the door slammed shut behind her. She allowed herself a small smile. She had taken the first step and the rest would be up to them.

  ⱷ

  E’Malkai

  As sleep subsided and E’Malkai slipped back into the realm of the living, he reached his hand up to wipe at his eyes. He felt the sting of the light, but also the strength of Arile as he held the youth’s arm firmly.

  E’Malkai snapped to attention.

  The hazy, warm feeling that accompanied sleep washed away, and the cold reality of his surroundings were apparent all at once. The grim line of Arile’s face brought out the paleness of his skin. E’Malkai held his tongue, noting that the tension in the air was powerful enough to know that he would be safest in his silence.

  “Hybear,” whispered Arile as he pointed over the embankment that they had used as a shelter the day before. The youth followed the finger and saw the mammoth figure referred to commonly as a hybear; a larger creature E’Malkai could not remember seeing. Even Elcites would have seemed small next to the beast.

  E’Malkai stared wide-eyed, not bothering to speak. There were no words that he could have uttered that would have described it accurately. It was a massive creature. The tales of them reaching thirty feet or more were grossly under-exaggerated. It stood on its hind legs. Almost half the size of the canyon, it was fifty or sixty feet tall from foot to head.

  The muzzle on the beast was something that only dwelled in the darkest of nightmares. Its white fur was thick and marred with black marks of an unknown origin. The gray, cracked points of its claws clicked against the ice as it moved through the pass. Twin black eyes stared out. Those hollow, obsidian globes stared around thoughtfully and despite its size, there was intelligence behind the eyes.

  “What do we do?” queried E’Malkai without taking his eyes from the beast.

  Arile shook his head, uncertainty there. “Wait for it to pass. We are not much of a meal for a creature such as that.”

  The hybear stopped and fell on all fours again. The bumps on its powerful back were prominent. It raised its head and sniffed the air, the flare of its nostrils like a gale through the canyon.

  “Does it smell us?”

  The shake of the head returned.

  “We are downwind, there’s something behind it.”

  What happened next seemed improbable to E’Malkai. The source of the hybear’s attention was revealed when stark white tundra wolves burst through the west side of the canyon. Their snarls echoed, but were quickly silenced by the deafening sound that erupted from the hybear as it rose onto its haunches, claws barred as the wolves leapt. Their ascent was smashed down as the hybear swung its mighty arms about. Flailing its claws at the haphazard wolves, it slammed them against the side of the canyon.

  A shiver ran the length of the ice.

  “We can’t kill that thing,” spoke E’Malkai.

  The wolves recovered, some of them anyways, and resumed their attack. Their numbers doubled as more poured through the other side of the canyon. Fear gripped E’Malkai as he watched their destination flood in carnage.

  “No. Too big. The Fallen have in the past for survival. Even some Utiakth, though it is considered an ill omen to kill a hybear. They are a kindred spirit. My concern is the wolves, if they actually succeed. They are known for blood frenzies, especially with such limited game,” replied Arile, moving his head to watch the battle.

  E’Malkai grimaced as the skull of a wolf splattered gruesomely against the wall of the canyon and slid to the ground. It was replaced quickly by another leaping, snarling predator. “What do we do? Go back around the mountainside?”

  The head shake.

  E’Malkai had grown to hate it.

  “No other way to the Maiden. The Fallen is on the other side, can’t turn back.”

  “What then, wait it out?”

  That damned head shake.

  “The Hybear will ignore us if we pushed through. Could even help it by picking off some wolves as we went,” suggested Arile with a feral grin, his teeth bared.

  E’Malkai stared incredulously. “You are kidding, right?”

  “Do you have a better suggestion?”

  He paused and looked at the white hunter, defeated. “I don’t have a weapon. You at least have that spear,” coaxed E’Malkai, still not yet warming to the idea.

  Arile pointed at E’Malkai’s hilt. “Your father’s blade.”

  E’Malkai grasped it and held it in his hand, thinking. The howls of the battle were lost on him as he thought back to Linar and the damage the wolves had done. He had tried to wield the blade then, but he had succeeded only in failure; the beast had fallen on him.

  Arile looked back at the battle. Loosening the bonds that held his spear in place, he gripped it tightly. His intense gaze watched the hybear begin to falter as several wolves blundered onto its back. “There is little time, E’Malkai of the South. It is now or never.”

  E’Malkai’s eyes snapped up, and he nodded, pulling his pack over his back. Smashing his foot into the heat of the fire, he smothered it. Pulling the planedge free of its sheath, he darted out behind the charging Arile.

  As they rounded the side of the embankment, the hungry eyes of the wolves followed them. Some broke loose of their attack upon the hybear. They blended into the surroundings so well that only the red glow of their eyes seemed to pierce the ice. Fear burned in E’Malkai’s stomach as he stumbled forward. His viselike grip on his father’s weapon was not from determination, but from a fear of dropping and losing the only thing that truly connected him to the Fallen.

  A wolf reared and leapt, past Arile’s shoulder and at E’Malkai’s face. E’Malkai paused and swung the blade parallel to his body. The steel was sharp. He felt the weight of the flesh as he tore into it. His slash carried him straight through the creature, shredding bone and sinewy muscle. He watched as the carcass collapsed to the earth, steam rising from the insides. The shouts of Arile to keep moving forward fell on his deaf ears, for he still had not come to terms with death.

  Arile’s face startled him.

  His words came back into focus, but only half of what the white hunter was screaming. “…Otherwise they are going to be on us instead of the hybear.”

  E’Malkai squinted, ignoring the questions he wished to ask. Arile caught the leap of another wolf, skewering it upon his spear and chucking it aside without breaking stride. E’Malkai followed behind, his feet working to move around the icy obstacles in their way.

  They passed just through the center of the canyon. The hybear was closer and seemed even larger at close range. The giant turned to look at him. Lifeless black eyes twinkled as if it knew. Rearing back, its claws caught the snapping bodies of the tundra wolves. As they passed beneath the haunches of the beast, it fell back on four paws again. They found that they only needed to duck slightly to get to the other side. The snarling muzzles of the tundra wolves seemed to lose interest in the passive hybear. Instead they saw a fleeing meal, their horde leaping onto the icy ground in pursuit.

  E’Malkai glanced over his shoulder as he ran.

  The dark red eyes of the wolves now pursued them, and he spun, shutting the horrific image of their pack out of his mind. He saw the light at the end of the canyon, the exit of the pass, and ran harder. His father’s blade sliced through the air with every rotation of his arm.

  “They are gaining,” yelled E’Malkai at Arile, only a few steps ahead of him. His spear was tucked along his back. Their growls echoed, and E’Malkai dared not turn for fear of one leaping at him. He focused on the glimmer of light from the Maiden at the end of the pass.

  One hundred feet: the hybear had begun to turn in their direction.

  Eighty feet: E’Malkai dodged to the side as the pass crumbled beneath the hybear’s movement. A jagged icicle slammed into the earth where he had been, taking out a wolf that was leaping at
him.

  Sixty feet: the hybear moved forward, each stamp of its foot an earthquake that shook the foundation of the pass.

  Forty feet: E’Malkai could hear his breath in his mind.

  Twenty feet: the edge of the canyon seemed so close.

  Arile ran through the opening and spun, his arm pointing.

  Five feet: E’Malkai leapt, spinning with his blade out, and watched as a tundra wolf felt the cold bite of his blade across the face. It yelped and leapt away, swiping at its face with its paw. A roar ripped across the plains as the hybear burst from the pass, its paws taking out handfuls of the wolves.

  The two men and the hybear stood calculating one another.

  “What now?” whispered E’Malkai, as he backed into Arile.

  “Do not move,” he returned through tight lips.

  The hybear sat back down on its paws. Sniffing the air as it had earlier, it roared again. The warmth of its breath was stale and fetid. A sigh replaced the roar as it sniffled and then turned. The movement was accompanied by a ripple of muscle beneath the mass of fur as it stalked into the distance.

  Each step resounded on the plains.

  The men watched the hybear for some time, such grace for a creature so large. Soon, its white fur melted into the line of the mountains and the horizons.

  E’Malkai sighed.

  “Was that for real?” he asked in astonishment.

  The hunter nodded.

  It was a welcome change from the head shake. “You witnessed what little life exists on the tundra; though I have never seen so many wolves attack a hybear. Come to think of it, I have never seen a pack of wolves attack anything with such malicious intent. They weren’t merely trying to feed. They were trying to kill that hybear, to hurt it.”

  E’Malkai turned and looked upon the Barren Maiden for the first time, and all he could do was stare. The sheet of ice was like a clear mirror that reflected the darkened skies above. A sliver of light escaped through the cloud cover and refracted off its surface like a beacon.

  “This is the Barren Maiden.”