The Fallen Mender

by R. J. Francis

  “Neither can I. Well, they come out one at a time, I hope…” The two of them giggled, and then winced.

  “Well, I’ll let you get ready for breakfast,” Elaina said.

  “Elaina, I’m…I’m so glad you’re back with us,” Nastasha said. “I suppose I don’t have to tell you how much I admire you.”

  “I know,” Elaina said.

  “Of course you do. Well, I’m always trying to become a better person,” Nastasha said. “If you ever look in my mind and see…um…something not quite right—would you please tell me?”

  “You’d like to understand yourself better?” Elaina asked.

  “I would.”

  “I can’t promise to tell you everything I see.”

  “Just, maybe once in a while, help me to grow,” Nastasha said.

  “Sure, I will.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  Two days later, just before dawn, Princess Tori was roused from her sleep by a kind hand on her shoulder. “Shhh…” Queen Alethea said. “Come with me, sweetie.”

  Tori stretched her eyes open, blinked a few times, and sat up. She was still in her new temporary bedroom: the castle’s main dining hall, where she would stay with the court survivors until her brother Jaimin returned, as it was more practical for the royal guards to watch over her there.

  Tori grabbed her stuffed rabbit with one hand, and her mother’s arm with the other, and surmounted the lip of her cot’s rigid frame, landing in her slippers.

  Her mother led her by the hand through the kitchen, where the servants were preparing breakfast. They strode past prep counters piled with washed potatoes, freshly snipped herbs and pungent diced onions. Meat, eggs and mushrooms sizzled on heavy cast skillets. Someone was stretching dough.

  This week had been tough for Tori: moving out of her room in the west wing, taking baths in servants’ tubs that smelled of steel and inexpensive perfume, reading books more than once… It was all too different.

  Alethea led Tori into a hall where a band of travelers had just come in from the cold, with their overcoats and hats still encrusted with snow. Tori recognized one of them at once.

  “Jaimin!” she squealed, and she ran to her brother. He stooped to take her in his arms. “Yikes! You’re freezing,” she said.

  “It’s snowing outside.”

  She hugged him tight. “I missed you,” she whispered in his ear.

  “I’m back now for good,” he said.

  Next, she saw Elaina. “Are you Eleonora?” Tori asked.

  “No, it’s me sweetheart,” Elaina said.

  “But…but…Mama said you were dead! I cried and cried!”

  Elaina knelt and took both of Tori’s hands. “I was dead,” she said. “But I’m not anymore. Sometimes, but not often, the divine spirit gives people a second chance.” Tori couldn’t understand this, but she believed it. She gripped Elaina in a huge bear hug, and cried little tears of relief as Elaina picked her up.

  “Where’s Alessa?” she whispered in Elaina’s ear.

  “She’s fine. She’s helping my sister Eleonora in the south.”

  “And Maya? I like her.”

  “Maya was…killed in the war,” Elaina said. “You won’t see her again in this world.” Tori clutched Elaina more tightly. “I’m sorry,” Elaina said. “I liked Maya too. A lot.”

  “I hate this war,” Tori said.

  “Me too,” Elaina told her. “But I’ll tell you a secret: it’s almost over.”

  After a quick breakfast, Jaimin called Nastasha, Tori, Elaina, Alethea, General Valeriy and General Yern to assemble in the Hall of the Fathers.

  There, Jaimin and Nastasha presented their plan to end the war.

  The plan involved copious amounts of poison, a purple army communicator, Jewel, an experimental generator, arson, an unliked weapon, a couple of damn good hiding places, and the deception of the entire Destaurian army.

  The plan was endorsed by all, but Elaina insisted on this: success would be measured by how few lives were lost.

  Nastasha got to work at once on the poison. Sylvia and her—officially now—new boyfriend Kotaret, met up with Nastasha in Nastasha’s new laboratory. When they arrived, they found her rummaging for something in a closet. Kotaret was still in awe at the method he’d just used to enter the lab: descending on a rotating platform through a barrel of red slime. Sylvia checked her gorgeous black hair for any traces of the goop.

  “I hope that’s you, Sylvie,” Nastasha called out.

  “It’s us,” Sylvia said. “Don’t panic.”

  Nastasha emerged from the closet carrying an enormous iron pot. “I hear you two are official now,” she said. “Well, you have my blessing.” She heaved the pot onto a counter. “You couldn’t be more right for each other. But with the crowds upstairs, I don’t imagine you can find much privacy.”

  “Aw, we manage,” Sylvia said. Kotaret was standing behind Sylvia now, with his hands on her waist.

  “Well, you can come down here anytime,” Nastasha said. “Nobody will ever find you.”

  “When this war’s over,” Sylvia said. “We’ll find a match for you.”

  “Oh, I’m far too busy running the country,” Nastasha said. “I don’t see any men in my future.” She opened a book and flipped through the pages.

  “Everyone needs someone,” Kotaret said.

  “Okay, I lied,” Nastasha told them. “I’ve met a man while I’ve been away. And I’m pregnant. Please don’t judge me.”

  “Tss… No need to tease us,” Sylvia said.

  Nastasha stepped up to Sylvia and stood nose to nose with her. Looking in Sylvia’s eyes, she took hold of her right hand and gave her the secret oath handshake, in the presence of which a girl could never lie.

  “What?” Sylvia exclaimed. “Who is he?”

  “A Destaurian rebel. A freedom fighter.”

  “I’m in shock,” Sylvia said. “I have to hear all about him.”

  “You two will get the full story,” said Nastasha. “But we’ve got a war to win. I need your help to gather some ingredients from around the castle.”

  “I…you…uh…” stuttered Sylvia, still reeling from Nastasha’s news.

  “What ingredients are we looking for?” Kotaret asked.

  Nastasha read from her book: “I just need you to find: six blue starflowers, six hundred tomato seeds, a jar of horse glue, six bottles of blood plasma, and some pine cleaning fluid—I shall get the rest. Do you think you can remember all that, or must I write it down?”

  “Starflowers, seeds, glue,” Sylvia said.

  “Plasma and pine cleaner,” Kotaret added.

  “Blue starflowers. The white ones won’t work. Six of them at least. I’m sure there are some growing in the Glass Gardens.”

  “Right,” said Sylvia.

  “Go with the royal guards,” Nastasha told them. “I’ve spoken with them, and they can get you past any checkpoint. Just be careful, and come back here at once when you’re finished.” Nastasha kissed both of them on the cheek, and the teens were off on their mission.

  “You’re not going to remember the ingredients, are you?” Kotaret asked Sylvia as they were leaving.

  “She’s pregnant,” Sylvia said, in a daze.

  “I didn’t think so,” Kotaret said. “Let’s stop so I can write them down.”

  Meanwhile, Nastasha continued rifling through the cabinets for the other materials she needed. One by one, she set them out on the counter near the stove.

  Just at the edge of the forest, near the farm where Elaina grew up, a purple army assassin emerged from beneath a stopped wagon and slipped in among the snow-dusted bushes.

  The assassin headed southeast, searching for a marker. She listened to her communicator for signs she was not alone.

  She moved as efficiently as a human could possibly move across the varied terrain. This girl’s muscles were perfectly toned and synchronized, absorbing the shock of each step and redirecting it to drive her next step. Her eyes, ea
rs and sense of smell collaborated to give her a complete view of her surroundings. At one point, an unusual noise entered her mental picture, and she stopped dead in her tracks, silently scanning. It was natural—nothing of concern. She continued at pace. Which would she come across first, the signal on the tree, or a signal in her ear?

  It was the tree Jewel came across first. Like the Shadow Children, purple army soldiers secretly marked trees to point the way to their nearest camp. Where Shadow Children used an infrared dye, the purple army used an organic resin that only lasted a short time. Some trees were marked by both groups—and neither was the wiser. Jewel examined the marking on this tree, and got a good idea of where the nearest purple army camp was. She cut due south to avoid it.

  Jewel’s body was fitter, and her senses were keener, than those of a wild animal, for she had been perfected over many years through practice and applied science. On her belt she carried the honed sword Ivinar, which had once belonged to Nastasha, who had shunned it after it took several innocent lives. Perhaps with its new task the weapon could be redeemed.

  Soon Jewel heard faint sounds in her purple army communicator. This was a wonderful sign—the frequencies hadn’t been altered. She stopped briefly to use her other communicator to give General Valeriy the good news, and then she continued south, pushing her body to the limit.

  Jewel was ecstatic. Time flew by for her. She had already made a crack in the oppressive machine that had bound her, her sister, and her friends for so many years. Now she had a key role in smashing the machine to bits.

  King Radovan gave the order to his generals: “Assemble your units in a line from the coast to the wilderness, and await my further orders. Let not a single purple army soldier make it from north to south, past your lines, to help their fellows. We will divide them, and in two days’ time we will burn their nests.” The generals bowed and left the throne room. Radovan retired to his salon, where his daughter, granddaughter, and guests were gathered.

  Alessa was seated on the king’s velvet couch, cradling Ia in her arms. Eleonora sat next to her, reading the compelling novel Your Eyes are Like Fire while Candace, her maidservant, brushed out her hair. Makias and Mascarin studied a war map at a nearby table.

  “It’s done,” Radovan announced. “Soon, the Destaurian army will be spread out in a line awaiting orders, keeping themselves out of trouble, and out of the way of the real initiative. Again, I’ve deceived them.”

  Eleonora set down her book. “There are too many in the Destaurian army still loyal to grandfather, and we just can’t trust them. We need to accept that this mess will take time to fix.”

  “I know,” he said.

  “What you said to them wasn’t entirely untrue,” Mascarin said to the king. “We will move against the baby mill and the training camps, but just not with the whole army.”

  “And that, my dear Candace,” Eleonora told her servant, “is when we will rescue your daughter.”

  “What? Elma is still alive?” Candace asked.

  “I’ve heard that she is,” said Eleonora, putting her finger to her lips in a subtle cue for Mascarin to say no more. Mascarin got the hint, and so did Radovan. Both men knew that Elma, only fourteen, was now pregnant with twins—but that was more than Candace needed to know for the moment. The important thing was that Elma could soon be brought home.

  “Oh, thank you, Your Highness.” Candace’s hands shook as she continued to work on Eleonora’s hair.

  “What time are the Shadow Children arriving?” the king asked.

  “Two hours after dark,” Mascarin said.

  “I want to show them kindness,” Radovan said, sitting down in a fine gold-clad chair. “A splendid meal in honor of what they have done for us.”

  “The children normally shun luxury, but I believe an audience with you would be an inspiration to them,” Mascarin said.

  “A late meal it is then,” the king said. “Candace, when you are finished, please inform the kitchen.”

  “Yes, Your Majesty.”

  Ia was fussing, and Alessa handed her over to her mother. Eleonora revealed her breast and Ia was soon content on it.

  After Ia was done feeding, Radovan spent some time holding and enjoying his granddaughter. “She’s divine,” he said. “Look at that fine black hair.”

  “Thank you for fighting for us, Denda,” Eleonora said. “It must have been a nightmare resisting the tutor’s persuasion.”

  Radovan said nothing. At the slightest mention of what the tutor had made him do, Eleonora felt him close off. Radovan didn’t blame himself, but his sins were not something he cared to recall. Radovan handed Ia back to her. “I couldn’t protect Camron,” he said.

  “You tried to warn us,” she said. “I was blind for so many years. Had I asked more questions, had I seen the truth, I would have…”

  “You would have got yourself killed,” he said.

  “I would have,” she said. “You’re right.”

  “Your mother saw the truth, and I killed her.”

  “None of that matters now,” Eleonora said. “Mama doesn’t blame you for that.”

  “What? Have…have you seen your mother?” Radovan asked.

  “Elaina has. Our mother watches us from the spirit world. She has forgiven you, and she wants nothing more than to see you healed.”

  Radovan looked dazed. His eyes welled up with tears. “I wish I could see her again.”

  “You will see her again,” Alessa said, “one day.”

  Radovan’s liberation was complete, and the liberation of his kingdom was well under way.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  There was a knock on Elaina’s door.

  “Sorry, my dear,” said Queen Alethea, when Elaina came to answer in her nightdress. “Another cartload of wounded are on their way.”

  “Of course,” Elaina said. “I’ll be down shortly.”

  Jaimin, who was in his room about to fall asleep, sensed Elaina’s activity. He got dressed and intercepted her in the hall on her way out. They embraced and kissed tenderly, as they always did when they met up.

  “More wounded,” she told him.

  “I hear it’s been cat and mouse in the woods here for a week,” Jaimin said. “We’re the cat, and they’re the mouse, and then it reverses.”

  “An exhausting way to fight a war,” Elaina remarked.

  “If our plan works tomorrow, things will change.”

  “Jem, I can handle this. You get some sleep. If it’s too much, I’ll send for you.”

  “I’ll nap in the infirmary as you work.”

  “You’ve lost me once,” she said. “You just can’t let me out of your sight, now, can you?”

  “I just don’t want to,” Jaimin said.

  She smiled. “You win. Let’s go.”

  Mascarin and Makias escorted the Shadow Children to the grand hall, where Radovan, Alessa and Eleonora stood to receive them.

  Unschooled in the protocols of greeting royalty, the children just nodded as they passed the king and the two princesses. Some stared curiously at Radovan; others looked around, taking in the vast scale and grandeur of the ancient surroundings.

  The kids were all on edge. The runaways among them worried that their parents would find out where they were, despite Mascarin’s assurance that the king would not betray their trust. A few children circled back and lined up to hug Alessa, whom they recognized from her time with them.

  Mascarin wasn’t sure where he and his charges should sit. “My friends, please,” the king said, “sit wherever you please. This evening is for you.”

  They settled in, leaving the seat at the head of the table open for Radovan, who stayed standing to address them.

  “Young patriots of the homeland,” the king began, “our kingdom is in your debt. I am in your debt. You never lost faith in the truth. You never lost faith in me, or my daughter.”

  “At each of your places there is a golden pendant carved with my seal. Take it as a sign of my protection.
” Some of them picked up and examined the pendants, which were strung onto strong gold alloy necklaces. Some put them on. Radovan continued: “If you wish, you may live here in the palace. Bring those you love, and your belongings. If you prefer to dwell in the city, you may still come to the palace day or night.”

  “When the war is won, I will construct a monument to your fallen sister, Maya, in the city square. The memory of her devotion and her sacrifice will live on from age to age, through art, story and song.”

  “I can ask no more than you have already given, but those who desire to may continue to aid us in our fight. Mascarin will be your commander.”

  “But enough talk of war,” he said. “Let’s enjoy a fine meal together.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  The days were short with winter arriving. The next morning, the sun seemed to rise later than ever, and it seemed that just as the soldiers guarding King Errol got into their routines the sun was setting again.

  Deep in the bowels of his bunker, Errol was all set to pen his evening announcements over three tall glasses of drim, a potent grain liquor. Each night, he would turn down the lamps and have his messenger wait outside in the hall while he cooked up some clever words to be broadcast to his minions.

  He downed the first glass of drim quickly, to warm his body and to ease him into a state of bliss. Sinking into his comfortable chair, he felt the energy of the liquid infuse his blood. Each breath carried him deeper into the pleasant numbness.

  The second glass he sipped. Now he must think of something creative to say to his purple army. Perhaps a sappy message of appreciation? Or maybe a gory threat—he liked to change it up. What had he said last night? Ah, yes—he’d scolded his army for allowing the Sentinel’s passengers to make it all the way back to the Arran castle alive. And he’d lied, saying he’d caught and eaten those responsible. In fact, Errol had never eaten anyone, although he did quite enjoy watching people eat each other. And he also enjoyed lying to those who trusted him.

  Errol regarded the truth as something only he was worthy of knowing.

  And the truth of the war was clear to him: his foes stood against him in numbers he hadn’t predicted. But still he believed his clever army would survive. His purple troops would pick away at the conventional armies of his enemies and would remain elusive. Fear would keep Arran civilians holed up in their beloved castle, where eventually they would run out of food, or fall victim to disease. He figured the thousands of civilians sheltering within the Arran castle’s walls had to be ripping through their food stocks at an astounding pace. And, crammed together like that, they couldn’t stay healthy for long.