The Fallen Mender

by R. J. Francis

  Desperate to survive, the man grabbed Maya in a bear hug and flipped atop her once again, slamming her head down onto the pavement. She lost her grip on her blade.

  The assassin seized the dagger, flipped it around, thrust it straight into Maya’s middle, and pulled it back out.

  To her it felt like a strong punch, but the hideous pain that followed told her she was cut badly.

  He tried to stab her again, but with all the strength she could muster she squirmed out from under him, rolled, and managed to stand up.

  Cold pain shot through her torso, up into both shoulders. She bore it. Too much was at stake for her to quit now. Everything that was good and right was depending on her.

  She drew her other dagger—the one that was broader, infinitely sharper, and glowing—the one she regretted not drawing first.

  Her foe got to his feet too. They faced off, assassin and girl, both wounded gravely. Both glanced around for ways to use the environment to their advantage. There was little they could use as a distraction—no dirt to kick up, no crates to upset…

  Hearing a shout behind him, the man took his eyes off Maya for a split second, and shick! she sliced his dagger arm, cutting almost all the way through it. The Frakker dagger clattered to the ground. The man dropped to his knees in pain and shock.

  Maya lunged and drove the full length of her glowing blade into his forehead. The honed dagger sank easily into his skull. He teetered for a moment, and then he fell backward, sliding off the blade as she held its hilt firmly.

  Elaina’s revenge was complete.

  Her insides now screaming with pain, Maya dropped to her knees, and then onto her side. When she tried to sheathe her blade, she felt so dizzy she couldn’t aim it right, so she let it fall to the pavement.

  Her world spun. Feeling something well up into her mouth, she opened it. Blood spilled out, bright and fresh.

  Losing more control of her body by the second, Maya tried to hold pressure on her wound, but her shaking hands were too weak. Chills shook her from head to toe. She saw her beautiful white cloak saturated with blood. “Look how I bleed for you m-my love,” she stammered, deliriously.

  Just then, two Destaurian soldiers came running down the alley. “It’s him,” said one of the soldiers, on seeing the dead man’s body. “It’s our man.”

  Maya was numb all over now. She was unable to move, and she was losing her sight. Her big, brown eyes opened wider as she poured all her energy into staying alive.

  One of the soldiers knelt before her, and she thought just for a moment that she was being saved, when he abruptly clenched both his hands on her neck, choking her. More blood spewed from her mouth, and her lips trembled. “Nice job, you little rat,” said the soldier.

  “Please,” said the other soldier. “She’s only a girl.”

  “You’re right,” said the first, and he let her neck go. He got up, took a few steps back, and drew his longbow. Maya watched him notch an arrow, draw back the string, and aim it in at her chest. She closed her eyes. He loosed his arrow. Thoonk!

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  “Let’s get to the palace,” Radovan told Alessa. “Where is Eleonora?”

  “She’s close,” Alessa replied. Find the others, meet us at the palace gates, she told Makias, in her mind.

  Marco stepped in and scooped up Elaina’s body. Jaimin stayed close and followed everyone down the platform’s ramp onto the square.

  “Remind me who you are,” Radovan said to Alessa. Soldiers were arranging themselves into a wedge to split the crowds, who had stopped panicking and were now closing in to see what was going on.

  “Alessa, the youngest of the council,” she replied.

  “Yes, yes! I remember you now.”

  “There is a lot you don’t know,” she told him, “but you must trust me.”

  “You’re a Celmarean. I trust you with my life,” Radovan said. “But we can’t trust some of my guards. I’ll need your help to find out who is loyal.” Like a strong-hulled ship working itself through sea ice, soldiers cut a path through the crowds for the royals.

  “There are Arran soldiers in disguise here, and more in the palace, and we can trust them completely,” Alessa said. “Eleonora’s personal guards are loyal too.”

  “Very good,” Radovan said.

  As the crowd got the message and moved aside, the royals were able to make quicker progress down the south end of King Poncimus Way.

  On the bridge to the palace gates, Radovan ordered the gate guards to allow Marco, Jaimin, and Candace to pass through immediately.

  The riverside park was filling up with curious townspeople. Turning back toward his subjects, Radovan held up both his hands. The crowd stopped advancing and fell silent. “Stand back,” he commanded them. “More!” They tried their best to comply. It was an odd sight to them: this king they had come out to mourn, looking fitter than ever, shouting instructions.

  Alessa pointed out to Radovan those in the crowd who were definitely trustworthy, and Eleonora, Makias, Nastasha, and the loyal guards and soldiers were allowed into the palace.

  “We couldn’t find Maya,” Nastasha told Alessa on her way past. “I have our men in the city searching for her.”

  “Maya’s dead. I feel it,” Alessa said.

  “No! And Elaina?” Nastasha asked.

  “We haven’t been able to bring her back.”

  “Oh my goodness… Oh my goodness…” said Nastasha.

  “Go on inside and help settle everyone down,” Alessa said. “I’ll meet you in there shortly.”

  Alessa stayed outside at the gates with Radovan for a few minutes to help him arrange for a secure perimeter around the palace. The king needed Alessa’s intuition to discern everyone’s intentions.

  But Jaimin also desperately needed Alessa’s guidance. As soon as Alessa entered the palace with Radovan, Jaimin was in her face. “We’ve got to get to the spirit world. I know we can bring Elaina back,” he said. “Help me.”

  “Okay,” Alessa said. “Visualize the archway—do you remember it?”

  “Of course,” Jaimin said. “You try too—not just me.”

  “I will—but you go ahead and start.”

  Jaimin returned to the dark alcove where Marco had laid Elaina out on a blue velvet bench. Jaimin had tucked her arms neatly against her body, straightened her braids, and centered her amulet on her chest. Now he sat down against her bench and closed his eyes.

  Meanwhile, Alessa and Radovan met back up with Nastasha and the others, who had gathered by the throne room doors.

  “What’s Jaimin doing?” Eleonora asked Nastasha.

  “Trying to retrieve Elaina’s spirit.”

  “Is that even possible?” Radovan asked. “To bring someone back?”

  “It’s happened once,” Nastasha replied. “We shall have to believe it can happen again.”

  Radovan said: “We have not all been introduced.” The foreigners introduced themselves one by one:

  “Makias of Celmarea, Minister to the Audician Crown.”

  “Nastasha, Advisor to the Crown of Arra. I speak for His Royal Highness, Prince Jaimin.”

  “Marco, Shield of the Arran Court.”

  “And is this…?” Radovan indicated his granddaughter, who was awake and quiet in Eleonora’s arms.

  “This is Ia,” Eleonora said.

  The corner of Radovan’s mouth lifted slightly in a smile. “Is my throne room clear?” he asked one of Eleonora’s guards. With so many royals in one place, their guards and soldiers were still working out who would stay on bodyguard duty and who would help elsewhere.

  “Yes, Your Majesty.”

  “The balcony as well?”

  “Yes, Your Majesty.”

  “Everyone, come with me,” Radovan said. He led the others through the towering black doors into his throne room. “I can only hope Prince Jaimin succeeds in his spirit quest, and Elaina returns to us,” he said.

  Nobody responded. He walked them slowly toward hi
s throne.

  Nastasha found the dark grey walls, vaulted ceiling, and magnificent gilded banners of the grand room calming after all that had just transpired. She had always known the danger of their mission, which had essentially succeeded—for here was Radovan, the man who could stop the war, on the side of the light at last. But she hadn’t foreseen the sacrifice that victory would require. Surely she had personally sacrificed much. And now Rosner was lost, and Maya, and—most difficult of all to accept—Elaina.

  Alessa, too, found the throne room grounding. Despite all the terrors that had been planned here, there was something about the ancient room that seemed to ease the soul. The troubles of the moment seemed to diminish in the context of the centuries over which the palace had stood. And, despite her tough countenance, Alessa’s soul needed easing: there were so many feelings to respond to, so many actions to plan, and so many minds around her screaming with confusion and grief.

  The king settled into his ornate blue-padded throne. All came near, except for Candace and the guards.

  “Although my mind was captive for so long,” Radovan said to them, “my recollection is clear. I’d like to think your attempt to kill me was part of the larger plan.”

  “I crafted the poison that left you close to death,” said Nastasha, always eager to explain things. “Because Elaina can only heal those close to death.”

  “That was our plan,” Eleonora added. “To nearly kill you in order to save you. And we saw an opportunity when we learned that Grandfather genuinely wanted to murder you.”

  “I wish that surprised me,” said Radovan.

  “He said that with you out of the way, the tutor would turn to me, and then I could betray him,” Eleonora said.

  “Did he? What did he tell you about the tutor?” Radovan asked.

  “He said the tutor’s ancestor was slighted long ago by the islanders, and that’s why he hates them. He said the tutor commands the purple army, and aspires to conquer the whole region.”

  Radovan replied, “That’s what he told you? What a snake! Yes, there is an ancient conflict between the tutor’s family and the islanders. And yes, the tutor does want the Celmareans dead, but only because he knows they would never accept him. The tutor doesn’t hate the Celmareans; actually, he admires them, and more than anything he wants to be their leader.”

  “He what?” Eleonora asked.

  “The tutor wants to be the Prince of Celmarea. A new Celmarea.”

  “So let me understand this: the tutor wants to kill all of the true Celmareans so they don’t oppose him? And he wants to build a new Celmarea of his own?” Eleonora asked.

  Radovan nodded.

  “That’s crazy,” Eleonora said.

  “The tutor is not, and never has been, well,” said King Radovan.

  “Why this purple army then?” Alessa asked. “Does the tutor really need a whole army to kill a few dozen of us?”

  “Of course not,” Radovan replied. “The purple army is my father’s army, not the tutor’s. My father, King Errol, made the purple army what it is today, making full use of my talents and the tutor’s talents. My father is the one who wants to subdue Arra and Audicia, and to dominate the coastal lands.”

  “So the tutor has no real interest in the war?” Nastasha asked.

  “Not beyond destroying the Celmareans. Once the true Celmareans are dead, the tutor doesn’t care what happens on the mainland. He’s not even in Destauria anymore. He and his family have left for Celmarea to live out their fantasy.”

  “His family?” asked Eleonora.

  “Yes. He has two children and a small band of followers, all under his spell. They had been camping in the mountains here, but his children and followers moved to the Celmarean palace about a year ago. Just days ago, the tutor made the final journey to Celmarea. And, unfortunately, I’ve given my army orders to protect them.”

  “Why did the tutor leave the mainland if he knew the Celmareans weren’t all dead?” Nastasha asked.

  “He grew impatient. Once the tutor believed he had purged me of all my love for you and your sister, he left the remaining islanders for me to destroy, thinking it would only be a matter of time.”

  “What is the tutor like?” Eleonora asked.

  Radovan sighed. “To his supporters he is charming. To me…well, I fell under the spell of his personality long before he first used his actual mind power on me. But he’s not well, not well at all. He’s a sadist, fond of inflicting unspeakable horrors on anyone for his own gratification.”

  Eleonora sighed. She found it hard to fathom that her father had been the unwitting plaything of someone like that for so many years. “And he’s corrupted Grandfather?” she asked.

  “Well, no,” said Radovan. “I’m sorry, but your grandfather is bad to the core without any help from the tutor. He’s damn evil—an abomination. I assure you that right now he’s working out how to kill us all.”

  “My apologies, Your Majesty,” Alessa said, “I must return to Jaimin to see if I can help.”

  “Of course,” he replied, and to Eleonora he said: “You go too, dear. You may leave the child with us.”

  Next, Radovan explained to the guards how to access the secret sub-basements where King Errol lived. Nastasha, Makias, Marco, and several of the Arran soldiers volunteered to join in the hunt for “Grandfather”.

  With all the secret exits the palace had, they figured King Errol had fled, but they needed to make sure.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  “War is upon us,” Queen Alethea explained to the generals, her daughter Tori, and the Celmarean adults who had gathered in the Hall of the Fathers, deep within the Arran castle. “Princess Elaina has succeeded in turning Radovan to our side, but it turns out Radovan has no influence over this purple army. I suspect they will wait for nightfall to attack. It could be sooner.”

  “We have already located six of their camps,” said Audician High General Yern. “We should strike them before they have a chance to move on us.”

  “Agreed,” said the queen. “General Yern, please provide for the defense of our cities. Move as many of the townspeople as you can into the castle and into the forts, and do what you can to protect life and property. As for the Arrans, we shall engage the foe at the camps we know about, and remain vigilant at our strategic posts throughout the kingdom. We’ve found six enemy camps, but there could be twenty others revealed when the sky lights up with fire.”

  “About that fire…” Valeriy said. “The science team believes they have a solution for extinguishing the fuel gel, but they will need time to gather the materials.”

  “They can work away, but we have no more time,” Alethea said. “Will the Destaurian prisoners fight?” she asked Valeriy.

  “Some will take up arms. If Elaina were here to lead them, more of them would join the battle.”

  The queen looked around, and everyone—especially the Celmareans—knew she had more to say. “Princess Elaina was killed this afternoon,” she announced.

  Many present gasped. Valeriy ground his teeth, and shook his head in denial. Tori sat stunned.

  “She died serving those she loved, and she will never be forgotten,” said the queen.

  “By the heavens…” said Valeriy.

  “We must act quickly,” the queen continued. “And may the divine spirit guide our hands.”

  Jaimin had managed to put himself into a trance, but at no point could he visualize the living, writhing archway that would allow him passage to the spirit world to search for Elaina, and he eventually fell asleep. When he awoke, he called out for Alessa.

  “Yes, Jaimin?” Alessa was not far from him now, conversing with Eleonora.

  “I can’t see the archway. Have you tried? How long was I asleep?”

  “I have tried. It hasn’t worked,” she said, dodging the question as to how long he’d been out.

  “Dammit,” Jaimin said. “You’re the expert at this. The more time that goes by, the less chance we have. Eleonora!” />
  Eleonora approached him.

  “Please meditate with us,” Jaimin said to her. “Look for a grooved archway—it’s the gateway to the spirit world.”

  “I’ve tried too,” said Eleonora. “I haven’t seen anything.”

  “We’ll all try again,” Alessa said, and she and Eleonora sat beside the prince. “Breathe deeply—follow my breathing…”

  This time, Alessa saw the Kel-sei archway right away, and went through. She had quite an adventure involving horses, moonlight, fruit pies, and a quaint mountain village, and was able to come to terms with some emotions she had bottled up since childhood, but none of the dozens of people she interacted with during her spirit journey was Elaina. Only three minutes of real time had elapsed when she reunited with her body and opened her eyes.

  Eleonora had some frightening visions of her dead husband lying open-eyed in the darkness. These were followed by a lucid dream of sex with a stranger that caused her to snap awake shaking and sweating.

  Jaimin just struggled with his grief in the darkness behind his closed eyes—lost in memories of his brief but amazing time with Elaina, and of his destroyed plans for the life they would never have together. When he opened his eyes, Alessa and Eleonora were whispering to each other. “Anything?” he asked. They shook their heads.

  “You will see the archway,” Alessa said, “if the divine spirit wants you to.”

  “What about what I want?” Jaimin said. “I want her back. I need her back. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Aren’t you at all upset?”

  “Of course I am,” Alessa said.

  “You knew, didn’t you? You knew she was going to get shot. It was all part of the ‘divine will,’ wasn’t it?”

  Alessa took her time to answer.

  “Bitch!” he yelled at Alessa.

  Eleonora jumped, still on edge from her sex dream. She fanned herself with her hand.

  King Radovan, carrying Ia, had been approaching to ask for Alessa’s help. “What’s going on here?” he demanded.

  “You could have stopped it!” Jaimin accused Alessa.

  “No. You have it wrong,” Alessa said, standing up. “It’s not that simple.”