The Fallen Mender

by R. J. Francis

  Jaimin wasn’t sure what to do. In the real world he would surely stoop to heal this wounded man, but in this dream world, or spirit world, or something-in-between world, he was more hesitant.

  Just then, he noticed a ghost-like figure emerging from the direction of the deeper forest. It was another young woman, dressed in Celmarean attire. Jaimin looked closer.

  It was Elaina!

  Suddenly Jaimin had a huge stake in this odd vision.

  Elaina was approaching the wounded young man, but she, too, didn’t seem to notice Jaimin at all. Afraid he might be invisible to her, Jaimin tried to call out, but he managed little more than a weak wheeze. Elaina was so close! He’d come so far to find her, and she couldn’t even see him?

  Elaina knelt by the wounded man. Jaimin ran up to her.

  At last, Elaina turned and directly addressed Jaimin. His heart melted when she looked at him with those gorgeous brown eyes he loved. “If you heal him, he is forgiven,” Elaina said. “Are you prepared to make that decision on behalf of your people?”

  “Elaina, come back with me!” Jaimin managed to say. He noticed his hands were beginning to glow with a white light.

  “This is more important than you or me,” Elaina said with urgency. “This man and the tutor share a spirit. Are you prepared to forgive the man who had me killed?”

  “I don’t…know. Why are they shunning this man?” he asked. Jaimin’s hands grew brighter still, flooding the forest with a light even brighter than the one still beaming forth from the man’s wrist.

  “Why doesn’t matter,” Elaina said. “Perhaps for what he’s done, or perhaps just for who he is,” she said. “Does he deserve the light any less?”

  Jaimin knew he needed to address Elaina’s question, and he knew the answer: beneath the skin, beneath the mind, beneath anything anyone has done in their lives, all souls are pure.

  Hadn’t he seen a pure soul in his own father once he found the courage to look beyond the king’s selfish, depressed façade? And, in the war, hadn’t Elaina deemed both friend and foe deserving of the light?

  One thing was certain: the light always brought truth.

  Jaimin sensed this was one of those moments he feared would come: if he said something wrong, even out of ignorance, Elaina would be lost forever. “I will forgive him,” Jaimin said.

  “Why?” Elaina asked.

  “Because I’ve seen the power of forgiveness,” Jaimin said. “It was your mother’s work, and your work, and now it’s left to me. If hate and fear have driven the nations apart, maybe our courage to forgive can bring them back together.”

  Elaina smiled. “It’s not forever,” she said, and divine light exploded from Jaimin’s hands.

  All went white.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  “Are you there, Jaimin? Are you hurt?” Jaimin heard Nastasha ask. She was still right behind him, and as the Celmarean living room came back into view, he felt her hands on his shoulders. Alessa was taking off the hood from the tutor’s head. The tutor’s neck wound had completely healed, and a white glow was fading from his skin. Jaimin knew he had just healed the tutor.

  The tutor was a pleasant looking middle-aged man. His light brown, curly hair was thin and medium in length. The only odd thing about him was the irises of his eyes, which had turned snow white, like those of his son. He looked around at everyone, confused, until his eyes fell upon his dead daughter. He immediately looked away and grimaced. “Take me away from her, please,” he beseeched the general.

  General Jorge had several of his men move in to lead the tutor away.

  “That was really brave, Jaimin,” Nastasha said softly. “You spared him.”

  Jaimin could say nothing. His thoughts were on Elaina, and how she had been right there in front of him, and how now—again—she was gone.

  A soldier ran in and gave General Jorge an update: the tutor’s other followers had all taken their own lives.

  “Very well,” Jorge told him. “Clean everything up.” He then said to those gathered, “Now, my friends, let’s take a moment for proper introductions.”

  “Prince Jaimin of Arra,” said Jaimin, weakly.

  “Huh! I suppose I’ll have to stop calling you ‘son’,” Jorge said.

  “Nastasha, Advisor to the Crown of Arra,” said Nastasha. She had reached back and was gently lifting her hair from beneath her sailor’s uniform.

  “Mascarin…of Destauria.”

  “Makias of Celmarea, Minister to the Crown of Audicia,” said Makias. The general raised his eyebrows.

  “Alessa, Princess of Celmarea.”

  “Ha! How wonderful,” the general said to Alessa. “I thought I recognized you, Your Highness. There are a few statutes of you around here, are there not?”

  “Yes, a few. We have another of our princesses with us, who stayed aboard the vessel. We’ll have to help her ashore. She’s…not well.”

  “We’ll help in any way we can,” the general said.

  “There was a residence on level three in the west wing, with two cribs…” Alessa said.

  “Yes, yes,” said the general. “I know exactly the one you mean. We’re not using it currently.”

  “Can it be guarded?” she asked.

  “Of course,” said the general.

  “Jaimin,” Alessa said, “I suggest you bring Elaina there, to her mother’s quarters. In the meantime, Makias and I will question the tutor. We’ll find you when we’re done.”

  “I’d like to come along with you, if I may,” Mascarin said to Alessa. “Find out what this tutor knows about the purple army’s plans.” Mascarin departed with Alessa and Makias.

  Meanwhile, Nastasha was having another look at the tutor’s daughter’s body. She noticed something peculiar: some of the foam coming from the girl’s mouth had already dried at the edges. This made her wonder just how and when the tutor had been tipped off to the Sentinel’s true mission. She figured it would take more than a few minutes for a foam of that consistency to begin to form a crust.

  The room had several large windows overlooking the bay, so it was fair to assume that the tutor had seen the Sentinel arrive. But how did he know enough about the crew’s intent to decide to proceed with this radical suicide plot?

  Nastasha looked around for a spyglass or other device which the tutor might have looked through to recognize her, Alessa, or Makias as phony sailors. She found nothing of the sort. She looked out the window. Indeed, the Sentinel was clearly visible. She thought through a few more scenarios in her head involving corrupt Destaurian officers.

  And then she noticed it: a red band of cloth, tied neatly around the base of the forward mast.

  “Jaimin, come quickly,” she said. Jaimin and General Jorge ran over.

  “That red cloth on the forward mast! Was that there before?”

  Jaimin squinted to look at it. “I don’t remember seeing it.”

  “It’s because you can’t see it from the deck. You can’t even see it if you’re working the sails. You can only see it from afar,” she said.

  “By the divine spirit!” the general said. “That’s an old naval signal. It’s to warn those on shore that the ship has been commandeered and is no longer in the captain’s control.”

  “That’s how the tutor knew.” Nastasha said.

  “Surely if someone tied that on while you were in Destauria it would have been visible from the docks,” the general said. “Could it have been a crew member?”

  “The crew were all carefully screened,” Jaimin said.

  “That only leaves one other option,” Nastasha said hurriedly. “That someone other than the crew tied it on during the voyage.”

  “Stowaways!” said the captain.

  The three of them ran out of the room as fast as they could get around the furniture. They had to jump over a few dead bodies in the corridor, and they nearly slipped on the blood-wet floor. Marco rejoined them, and several more Destaurian officers were following by the time they reached the beach
.

  The general’s dinghy had been pulled up onto the sand. They quickly dragged it back into the surf and the four of them and a few Destaurian officers hopped in, which helped to balance the general’s weight.

  “Hang on everyone,” Jaimin said. The small boat lurched forward as Jaimin shoved a mass of water up behind it, speeding it toward the Sentinel.

  When they reached the Sentinel, Jaimin ran their little boat so hard up against the side of the warship it almost capsized. He hopped onto the ladder and climbed.

  Careful, Jaimin, you don’t know what’s up there! Nastasha said to him in her mind. Why don’t you let someone else go first?

  Jaimin peered up on deck and could see no one. He pulled himself up, drew his sword, and waited nervously for the others to catch up.

  “We’ll check on Elaina first,” Jaimin said. “Nastasha, stay back a safe distance.” Nastasha drew her dagger.

  “Hang on. I’ll lead,” Marco said. He led them down the steps into the belly of the ship.

  The lamps had gone out, so the lighting was poor, but they could clearly see Captain Sam on the floor in a pool of blood, with his officer beside him. Both appeared dead, but the general checked them for signs of life.

  Elaina’s crate was open—Jaimin ran to it.

  There was nothing inside but straw.

  “Where is she?” Jaimin cried out.

  Nastasha ran over. “Shit! She’s been stolen,” she said, noticing now a trail of straw leading away and up the stairs.

  “Search the ship,” the general shouted to his men. “And I want the entire island on high alert.”

  Jaimin backed up against a wall and slid down it into a sitting position, feeling lower than he had ever felt. His hopes of restoring Elaina were shattered. How could he revive her if he didn’t have her body? What were they doing to her body? If he found anyone who had touched her he would rip them apart. Why was the divine spirit torturing him? Had he made a wrong choice? Had he not done his duty?

  Three things got him through the next several minutes and kept him from taking out his burning anger physically on himself or his surroundings: his grandmother’s promise that he would have many children, Elaina’s own words: “It’s not forever,” and a long, tender hug from Nastasha.

  Meanwhile, on a couch in the palace, Alessa and Makias were conversing with the tutor, as Mascarin looked on.

  “I’m sorry about your daughter,” Alessa told the tutor. “Because of how we healed you, your feelings are going to be muddled for a while.”

  “I’ve been responsible for the deaths of so many,” the tutor said.

  “Yes,” she said. “And many of those dear to me. I’m an islander, and so is Makias here. I am Princess Alessa.”

  “Why…why have you kept me alive?”

  “It was Prince Jaimin of Arra, my nephew, who spared you. Had the decision been mine, I’m not sure what I would have done.”

  “I see.”

  “But since you are alive,” she said, “we’re going to ask for your help.”

  “Anything,” the tutor said.

  “First off, what’s this to you?” she held up the silver circlet she had taken from his grip. The gorgeous, highly-polished headpiece seemed to catch all the colors of light it could from the room. It was made from dozens of strands of silver, interwoven in delicate swirls, floral motifs, and wave patterns.

  “It’s Ariane’s Circlet.”

  “We know what it is,” Makias told the tutor. “It’s one of our most precious artifacts. But what’s its significance to you?”

  “Ariane and my ancestor Tramel were in love, at the dawn of this age. Ariane was spared when your people took refuge underground. But your ancestors shunned Tramel, tore Ariane from him, nearly killed him, and left him to suffer the days of darkness. We’ve never forgotten that.”

  “We?” Alessa said.

  “I haven’t forgotten. Tramel hasn’t forgotten.”

  “You speak of Tramel as if he’s living,” Makias said. “The days of darkness took place millennia ago.”

  “He is living, or rather was living, in me. Until today.”

  “And now where is Tramel?” Alessa asked.

  “I don’t feel his presence anymore.”

  “And does Ariane still walk this world?” Alessa asked. Makias looked at her quizzically. What kind of question is that? he asked her in his mind.

  But the tutor didn’t seem surprised by the question. He looked down and sighed. “She…no. She never has, during my lifetime. But we were in love with her—Tramel and I. Or, in love with her memory. Our love for her drove our love for all things Celmarean. It’s why I’m here. Why I have restored this place. In her honor.”

  “You clearly know more about Ariane than I do,” Makias remarked to Alessa.

  “I have read a bit, my dear. In adulthood, Ariane became the most powerful Celmarean of all time,” Alessa said to Makias. “Not in terms of influence, but I’m talking about her raw power to affect nature. It’s said she could kill someone with a look, and move a pond from here to there as easily as moving her little finger. Ariane was the first and only queen of the Celmareans. She’s the one who created the tradition of the princess council, sharing power evenly with her closest sisters in order to protect everyone from any mistakes she alone might make—for her mind was not…‘reliable’ in her later years. During the days of darkness, she found a second lover among our people, which is very unusual, as you know, and she became the mother of many of us. If the old books can be relied on, Ariane is my direct ancestor, and Jaimin’s as well.”

  “It would have torn me apart to know this, just this morning,” the tutor said. “We had always believed Ariane died a virgin. To think we were killing her descendants! But, well…now somehow my connection to these ancients is lost, and I feel nothing.”

  “Do you know what’s happening on the mainland now?” Alessa said.

  “Errol’s war,” said the tutor.

  “And yours,” Makias said.

  “Yes, yes. He promised to wipe out all you islanders for me. That’s all I ever asked of him in return for my help.”

  “How does he plan to kill us?” Alessa asked.

  “Assassins,” the tutor replied. “I suspect several arrived with you on that ship outside in the bay.” Alessa closed her eyes. She sensed that Jaimin, the general, and Nastasha were, at that very moment, suspecting that there may have been stowaways.

  “Can you call off the assassins?” she asked.

  “No. And they are very good. You aren’t safe until they’re dead.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  Alessa was waiting in the east wing corridor when Jaimin and Nastasha returned from the shore, out of breath.

  “Elaina’s body’s been taken,” Jaimin told her.

  “I know,” Alessa said. “The tutor believes there are assassins here working for King Errol.”

  “I don’t want to think what they might do to her,” Jaimin said.

  “General Jorge has his men scouring the island,” Nastasha reported. “Can the tutor somehow call off these assassins?”

  “No,” Alessa replied. “Their orders come from Errol alone.”

  “If we find the archway and return Elaina’s spirit,” Jaimin said, “she will let us know where her body is. That’s really our best hope.”

  “Then let’s find that archway,” Alessa said. “Makias will take you both down to the archives so you can do your research. I’ll stay here. Mascarin and I have more to ask the tutor. Stay strong, and watch your back. We have to assume the assassins are not just after Elaina, but the rest of us as well.”

  On their way to the archives, progress was slow, as each area needed to be searched before the group could advance. Waiting for the all-clears gave Makias a chance to fill Jaimin and Nastasha in on the legend of Tramel and Ariane. Jaimin recounted his vision, convinced that he had witnessed Tramel and Ariane’s final moments together. “Ariane sounds like she was quite a handful,” Ja
imin said.

  “Alessa’s more of an expert on her,” Makias said. “Ariane is your direct ancestor, Jaimin.”

  “That explains a lot,” Nastasha quipped.

  “How do you know who was whose ancestor?” Jaimin asked. “Wasn’t this thousands of years ago?”

  “The bloodline is documented, to an extent,” Makias said. “It’s likely that all of us have some of Ariane’s blood, because ours was a small community. Inevitably, we paired with our cousins.”

  “That’s not always the best, from what I’ve read,” Nastasha said.

  “Celmarean genetics are unique,” Makias told her. “Detrimental genetic traits, including those resulting from the mixing of relatives, can be suppressed or corrected by Areu.”

  Nastasha’s eyes grew wide. “I must know all about this,” she said. “So, in a sense, your race is self-perfecting, with each generation more optimized than the last.”

  “Correct,” Makias said.

  “And when entirely new genetic material is introduced, these half-bloods like Jaimin and Elaina can end up with novel, incredible powers,” Nastasha said. “Maybe when the Celmarean genes, which have perfected themselves over thousands of years, encounter fresh genetic information to work with, it’s as if there are—new possibilities, new heights to reach…”

  “Maybe,” Makias said, “but like I told you before, it’s not all down to heredity.”

  “I’m lost,” Jaimin said.

  “Don’t worry,” Nastasha said. “I’ll fill you in later.”

  “The technology I saw in the vision—this man Tramel arrived in some sort of electric coach that floated on the air,” Jaimin said.

  “How fascinating!” Nastasha said.

  “In and before the days of darkness,” Makias said, “we know that human technology was unlike anything we have seen since. Most of it disintegrated as it was designed to do, but stories have survived, and there are more than a few relics.”

  Nastasha was thrilled at hearing this. She knew relics existed from that ancient time; there were even a few objects in Arra that, when studied carefully, had resulted in great leaps in technology. She had never been able to secure access to those relics, or to the primary research on them. Maybe now, though, with her new rank, she could ask to study them. And if there were even more relics here on Celmarea…