Equilibrium: Episode 6

by CS Sealey

  “He already has. He knows he’s killed me.”

  “No! Gods, I have to do something!”

  “You can do but one thing for me now, Emil. Please, help me pass.”

  “Don’t say that,” Emil said, shaking his head. “Look at me, we’ll heal you! I won’t let you die!”

  “Zennia knew it was her time, and so do I. Please, help me, Emil, as you helped her in the end.”

  “No, not when there’s a chance to cure you!” He made to stand. “I’ll take you downstairs to a healing room. There’ll be a herbalist somewhere, I know it!”

  “Don’t go.”

  Kayte felt herself sinking down into the earth. Breathing became harder but it soon felt as though she no longer needed air. She slowly released her breath, closed her eyes, and her head fell limp against Emil’s chest.

  There was a dark hillside surrounded on all sides by an impenetrable blackness. The faint whispering of countless voices issued from the shadows below. At the summit of the Hill was a dull sphere of light. She did not want to leave its reassuring presence to wander that dark land alone, so she stood there for a long time, looking into the sphere. She heard the faint sound of an all too familiar voice, Emil’s voice, shouting her name over and over, but she could not reply. Her grip on her mortal form had broken forever.

  There was a loud, clear note, the sound of a horn, which penetrated even the boundaries of death itself. She felt her heart lift and a single tear of joy slid down her pale cheek. Finally, after what seemed an eternity, she looked into the darkness of death, the echoes of the horn playing in her ears, mustered her courage, and began to descend.

  *

  Rasmus grasped the ram with both hands and waited.

  “Lift!” General Kaster bellowed.

  The two dozen allies heaved the ram up and set it against the castle gates.

  “Pull back! And…now!”

  The ram swung and thundered into the gates with a deafening crash. Splinters careened in all directions. Rasmus felt a shard of wood graze his forehead but continued with the others in hauling on the ram again. Three more times they angled the ram into the gates and, on the fourth collision, the doors crashed open.

  A handful of Ayon men stood in the entrance hall, looking scared. Upon seeing the scores of allies pouring in through the open castle gates, they quickly surrendered.

  “Auran, Avric, sort these men out,” Kaster commanded, motioning to their Ayon prisoners. “I’m sure there are cells downstairs waiting for them.”

  As Rasmus, Cassios and a few others were confiscating the Ayons’ weapons, they heard the sound of hurried feet. Rasmus turned and spotted Markus Taal approaching from a corridor he knew led toward the kitchens.

  “General!” he panted.

  “Ah, Lord Taal!” Kaster said, grinning. “Glad to see you’re still alive!”

  “Have you seen Emil?” the wizard asked, coming to a stop.

  “Not yet,” Kaster said, his grin falling. “Something the matter?”

  “Varren might still be here. Kayte drew him away from us, then Emil and I went in search of her. I checked all the lower levels but there’s no sign of them. I was just about to head upstairs.”

  Rasmus approached them and saluted hastily. “On the way up to the castle, I saw some kind of conflict on the roof.”

  “The roof? We must hurry.”

  “Avric, keep some men and take those prisoners downstairs,” Kaster said. “The rest of you, with me!”

  When they reached the roof, Rasmus initially thought it was deserted. No Ayon archers were stationed along the parapets, not even a lone guard stood watch.

  “Oh, no…” Markus said quietly and hung his head.

  On the far side of the roof sat a hunched figure with a body in his arms. Even from that distance, Rasmus recognized Emil’s form.

  “Elroy,” Kaster said, turning to the company of allies behind him, “spread out and check every room of the castle. Make sure you find every remaining Ayon and take them downstairs. I want this place cleansed.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And Auran,” the general said, turning to Rasmus, “do something about that flag, will you?”

  Rasmus looked up at the western tower and saw a lone crimson flag rippling in the breeze. He nodded and followed Markus and Kaster across the rooftop. As they neared Emil, the shaman raised his head and turned to look at them. His eyes were red and his face, normally devoid of emotions, was set with grief.

  “I was too late,” he whispered, looking up at Markus. “He’s killed her.”

  “Where is he?”

  “Gone. Fled. The coward.”

  A wave of relief washed over Rasmus and he raised his face to the heavens, breathing in a deep breath of cool air, which seemed suddenly so much sweeter. The battle was won! Varren had fled the castle, perhaps also the city, and the districts were gradually falling back into Ronnesian hands.

  He rushed to the western tower, flung open the door and took the stairs two at a time. He stepped out onto the circular top almost out of breath. The wind was strong and the rippling of the crimson flag fixed to the flagpole was loud in his ears. Drawing his sword, he slit the rope that attached the flag to the pole and tore the material down. He gripped the flag tightly in his hand for a moment before leaning out over the parapets and throwing it as far as he could. The crimson material caught on an updraft and lifted into the air above the castle. Rasmus’s eyes followed its progress as it drifted into the darkness of the coming night.

  He heard footsteps on the rooftop below and spotted a figure come to a skidding halt by the parapets.

  “Look what I found!” Cassios shouted up to him, lifting a great horn in his hand. “If it ever deserved to be heard, it’s now, don’t you think?”

  CHAPTER 77

  The sweet tone of the Victory Horn sounded above the rising cheers. Answering horns were blown and bells were rung in every district as the invaders were thwarted and chased from the city. Barricaded doors were opened once more and anxious citizens stumbled onto the streets, tears streaming down their cheeks. One by one, the blockades were dismantled and burning piles of debris that littered the streets were doused. Cheering rose from every corner of the city. The chorus of tower bells reserved for sunrise began to ring out across Te’Roek and did not quieten for a long while.

  The celebrating calmed as the night drew on and the allies’ attention inevitably turned to the devastation caused by the battle. Despite the efforts of the soldiers to keep them safe, the civilians had been reluctant to sit back and watch the battle. They had wielded any weapons they could lay their hands on – axes, spades, fire pokers, kitchen knives, hammers, even rakes and brooms. The bodies on the streets told many sad tales of the price of freedom. The sad task of separating the bodies of friend from foe and moving their brethren to warehouses for identification began. The Ayon soldiers were loaded onto horse-drawn carts and transported for burial to a bare field beyond the reaches of the city.

  The only thing Rasmus could think of, however, was to return to the sanctuary for a drink to cool his aching throat. Then he would kick off his boots, untie his weapons belt and wash his hands and face. Finally, he would take Angora into his arms and tell her that it was now safe to walk the streets of Te’Roek.

  Detaching himself from his reveling comrades, he hurried back to the resistance headquarters. He reached the right alley and hastily knocked the correct sequence upon the door. It seemed to take longer than usual for Lila let him in but Rasmus did not think anything of it. His mind was still reeling with excitement and relief.

  “Oh, Captain Auran!” Lila gasped, stepping aside. “Thank the Spirits!”

  A moment later, Aiyla came running down the stairs. “I heard the bells and shouts from the window. Is it true? Have you defeated them? Is the city ours once more?”

  “Yes!” he cried, pulling Aiyla into a tight hug. “The Ayons fled with their tails between their legs! The blue flag flies once more above the
castle! Was there any trouble along this way?”

  “Not a single soldier.” Lila looked Rasmus up and down. “We heard a great deal, though – shouting, banging and so forth, but apart from the odd flash – ”

  “That’s good.” He paused in unstrapping his weapons belt and looked about him in confusion. “Your girls are quiet, aren’t they? Not hiding, I hope.”

  Lila’s face fell and she glanced at Aiyla.

  “They’re all still upstairs,” the seer admitted.

  “Best tell them to come down, then,” he said, chuckling. “They’ll be happy to know they don’t need protecting from the Ayons any more! Girls! It’s safe to come down now!”

  A long moment passed but there were no sounds of movement from the floors above. Rasmus glanced at Aiyla before his grin faded.

  “What’s wrong?”

  When neither woman replied, Rasmus started up the stairs.

  “Wait, Captain Auran!” Lila called when he reached the second-floor landing. “Please.”

  He stopped, but felt uneasy. “What’s wrong?” he asked, then craned his neck to look up at the floor above. “Girls, the Ayons have gone!”

  Once more, he heard nothing and none of Lila’s girls appeared either on the landing above. A cold chill began to creep through him.

  “I thought you said they were upstairs, Aiyla.”

  “They are,” she replied.

  “Then why won’t they answer?”

  “Captain, a great deal occurred while you were out there,” Lila explained. “I have some…some news to give you.”

  “News? But what – ”

  There was a murmured cry from upstairs, but not of a woman in distress: it was the unmistakable cry of a newborn child. Rasmus glanced back at Lila, then at Aiyla and his eyes widened.

  “Angora has had her child!”

  “Yes.”

  “Oh, but that’s great news!” Rasmus exclaimed. “Rather premature, though, isn’t it? Is the child healthy?”

  Aiyla opened her mouth to speak but seemed to choke on her words. Rasmus’s face fell a little as he saw her expression. Her eyes were shining with tears and her hands were grasping the front of her dress. It was only then that he noticed the blood stains on her sleeves. He looked at Lila, whose dress was also spotted with blood.

  “Oh, Rasmus…” Aiyla began.

  “Don’t tell me the child won’t survive.”

  “No. The child will live, but…”

  “But what?”

  She merely shook her head sadly.

  “Angora?” Rasmus called, then waited. The silence that followed was terrible. “Angora?”

  He ran up the stairs, ignoring Aiyla’s and Lila’s calls for him to stop, and made it to the top floor. There seemed nothing unusual about the inn except the silence of the place, broken only by the cries of the newborn child. He hurried along the corridor to Angora’s room and pushed open the door. There, his knees gave way beneath him. He clutched the doorframe for support but the sight before him made him unbelievably weak.

  Upon the small bed was a crumpled figure amid blood-stained sheets. Lila’s girls stood around her in a half circle; one cradling the child, the other two holding bloodied towels. Angora appeared to be sleeping but the feeling that gripped every inch of Rasmus’s body told him otherwise.

  “No…” He staggered to the bedside, collapsed to his knees and snatched up the limp hand that lay across Angora’s breast. It was still warm but there was no pulse to be felt beneath her pale skin. Angora’s chest was still and her eyelids did not flicker.

  “Angora?” he whimpered, reaching up to touch her face. “Please, Angora. Hear me, please!”

  “Captain, she’s gone,” the eldest girl said, slowly rocking the child back and forth in her arms, calming its cries. “It has been almost an hour now.”

  “No, she can’t be. This was not the way it was supposed to happen!” he cried, tears sliding down his cheeks. “No! No, no, no…”

  Rasmus was conscious of hands touching his shoulders but he shrugged them off. He buried his face in Angora’s shoulder and cried uncontrollably. The sounds of elation from beyond the window seemed painfully bitter now. How could the city celebrate when something so precious had been lost?

  “I was going to lead you outside and show you that it was safe once more,” he whispered shakily.

  “There was nothing we could do,” Lila said, close behind him. “She had barely enough time to finish the letters, the labor came on so suddenly. But it was almost as though she knew. She never once cried or despaired at the end. She just drifted away.”

  “She smiled,” the woman with the child said sadly. “When she saw that her daughter lived and was strong, she smiled.”

  “This is for you,” Aiyla said. “She made me promise to give it to you the moment you returned.”

  “What?” Rasmus asked. He straightened and turned to the seer. She held a folded piece of parchment in her hand and, with a lurch of sorrow, he saw the spots of blood that dotted the outside. Aiyla handed it over before turning to comfort the child, who had started to whimper again. Rasmus slowly turned the letter over and saw his name written in Angora’s small hand upon the front, though not as careful and neat as her usual script. He took a deep breath, unfolded the parchment and began to read.

  My dearest friend,

  If you are reading this letter, you have now seen me. I fear I will not live to see you return from battle, I am sorry. I do hope that the Victory Horn calls to you, while Death’s whisper calls to me.

  Please do not despair, for all is not lost. I guess that you are in no small amount of pain and, for this, I am also sorry. I do not yet know if my child will live but my heart tells me that he will.

  Please, Rasmus, look after my child and teach him the qualities I love in you. Do not let the queen or her servants, nor even your brother, poison his mind with hatred and violence. He was a child born in war, but I hope he will live in a time of peace and happiness. Teach him to love and protect life, not to take it. Aiyla has agreed to be his mother when I am gone. I do hope you will be his father.

  Tiderius will surely blame himself for my death but console him in any way you can. It was my choice to bear this child and mine alone.

  Stay safe, Rasmus. Watch my child, teach him and love him.

  The letter ended with a blot and Rasmus could make out a partial fingerprint in ink at the corner of the page. He wondered whether she had meant the letter to end there or whether she had had more to say. He lowered the parchment and turned to the woman who held the tiny girl.

  “She was going to marry me,” he whispered. He turned to Aiyla and looked at her with tearful eyes. “She was going to…”

  “Oh, Rasmus, I’m so sorry,” she said, pulling him into a hug.

  “Did she name her?” he asked, his face pressed into Aiyla’s shoulder.

  “She whispered something as she passed away,” Aiyla said, stroking his back, “but none of us heard right. It sounded like Elly but – ”

  “Elaine,” Rasmus whispered, feeling a lump rising in his throat.

  The child opened her eyes for an instant and then began to cry again, her small arms moving weakly beneath the swathe of cloth. The woman rocked her arms gently once more and murmured to the infant.

  “My mother’s name. I never thought she remembered…” New tears slid down his cheeks as he pulled away from Aiyla and turned back to the figure in the bed. She would never again feel pain or guilt, Rasmus thought, in a desperate attempt to comfort himself. She would never again feel despair or anger…But she would also never smile or sing or laugh. Rasmus would never hear the sound of her voice or see the light dancing in her eyes.

  “You really are gone, aren’t you?” he said, wiping his eyes. “I can’t rescue you this time.”

  “Rasmus,” Aiyla said quietly, placing a hand lightly on his shoulder. “We must continue to clean and dress her.”

  “Yes…of course.”

  “It
shouldn’t take too much longer.”

  Rasmus looked back at the child in the woman’s arms. Elaine, if she really had been named thus, would grow up remembering nothing of the woman who had brought her into this world – nothing.

  “Can I hold her?” he asked quietly.

  The woman nodded and placed the tiny form into his awaiting arms. There were still smears of blood across Elaine’s skin but not enough to hide the traces of blond hair she had inevitably inherited from Tiderius. She was so light and small.

  For a long while, he stood with Elaine in the mess hall on the floor below, alone and tearful. Through the open window, he watched as the stars appeared one by one, bringing to an end that victorious but dreadful day. After perhaps an hour, Aiyla joined him and rested her head against his shoulder. She raised a hand and brushed Elaine’s cheek fondly. The child murmured wordlessly, then opened her bright green eyes.

  Over the sounds of jubilation, the Victory Horn rang out proudly across the city, lifting all hearts – save two.

  CHAPTER 78

  A very short two days later, the allied army began mobilizing to pursue the fleeing Ayons. Many had wished to follow sooner but the queen, who had been brought back from her sanctuary in Milena, had insisted on a brief period of mourning with a solemn parade in honor of all those who had lost their lives in the battle to liberate the city and its people. The reinforcements from the Tarek Empire marched with the Ronnesians through the streets with helmets under their arms and heads bowed. The citizens who had returned to the city from forced or voluntary exile during the occupation lined the roads and leaned out of windows, watching the procession. The mood was somber.

  Before the armies marched out, many hundreds of citizens volunteered to aid the allies on their northward pursuit. Blacksmiths and cooks offered their services, as well as elders with healing skills. Only a relatively small force was to remain behind as the Home Guard, as General Kaster considered another attack from the Ayons to be very unlikely.

  On the eve of the departure, Aiyla and Rasmus met on the castle forecourt and walked slowly down the main thoroughfares to the outermost wall. There, at the West Gate, Rasmus produced a pair of decorated boxes from a small bag slung over his shoulder. In silence, they walked across the grassland to the bank of the River Mír and, beyond the outskirts of the city docklands, they found a great oak tree. Amid its spreading roots, they dug a small pit, at the bottom of which they laid the boxes.