Chapter twenty-two
Alek was holed up in a room at Healer's, one with a window for Kasara to poke her head in. Malak was there; he had been summoned by a trainee who had the bright idea that Malak might be able to coax Alek out of his current state. Malak had be shocked to find his husband, last seen with dark hair, brown eyes, and tanned skin as he currently appeared, pale, almost translucent skin, pale blue eyes, and white hair. But Malak had verified that Alek really was Alek by virtue of a birthmark only he would have known about, and from that moment refused to leave his side. He played his music and sang, he fed him, talked with him, caught Alek up on all the goings on of Haven and all the rumors about what was going to happen next.
It took a sennight, but it worked; Alek began by first looking straight at Malak when he was talking or singing, seeming to understand what was happening. Then he began to nod yes or no to questions, then he could say it. He was able to take a few steps with support, and even feed himself a few bites. After a sennight, Eothen made her way to visit – she would have come sooner, but with meeting with other Heralds, Council member, and the Queen, as well as her own reunion with Hexen, she didn't have any time. Besides which, she was still exhausted and wanted to give Malak his privacy. But the moment she saw her friend, she ran to Alek and hugged him tight. Alek actually hugged her back.
:He says to thank you for caring for him.: said Kasara into Eothen's head. :He says to tell you that you made excellent decisions, and you passed your field circuit with flying colors.:
"You can talk to Kasara?" she exclaimed. "That's wonderful!"
"Yes," said Alek with a smile. His voice was a whisper, but it was a voice.
"Kasara tells me he was aware of what was going on the whole time," said Malak. "But he could not make himself respond. Thank you so much for looking out for my man."
Eothen surprised both herself and Malak by hugging him, too, and spent the rest of the candlemark getting to know her mentor's husband. Alek paid close attention, and occasionally was able to interject a yes or no or otherwise indicate his intentions. More often, Kasara relayed Alek's comments via Mindspeech to both Eothen and Malak. Eothen couldn't remember being so happy, or so relieved; she had been so worried that her friend would not recover, despite Kasara's reassurance, and she was simply keeping him alive for her own, and Kasara's benefit. But it seemed as if Alek would, in fact, recover, and he was happy to be here. Eothen could have spent the whole day, but she had too many obligations. One of them was being fitted for her brand new Whites, she had lost quite a bit of weight, so her old Grays would not do to go by. And another meeting with the queen, another abbreviated Council meeting…..and she wanted to at least see Aladrian today.
The Council was still deadlocked on what to do; there were really two options. Recall all the Guard and the Heralds, and basically re-conquer their whole territory; that would entail a lot of innocent deaths, and probably result in further rebellion as a very heavy-handed response. Still, it might preserve the infrastructure of their nation enough to rebuild, and perhaps by then, the rest of the citizenry would be happy enough – or even forget entirely – to mount another rebellion, or if they did the government would be able to handle it. The other option was to communicate, via Companion, to band together with Guard contingents and take the fight town by town. This had more ethical value, in Eothen's opinion; it would not result in as many innocent deaths and did not simply roll through the country, decimating the population. But it would take considerably more time, communication would be difficult, each individual citizen would need to, at the end of each fight, be questioned to determine loyalty, and each Herald/Guard contingent stood a decent chance of being defeated, whereas the army as a whole stood a better chance. If that happened, it would be a disaster; and they would have to hope for success – total success – before rebellion sprang up again.
All things considered, Eothen didn't know which option she hoped would win out. The first had more likelihood of success, perhaps; but the latter remained more true to Valdemar as a nation. After all, she thought, the nation's success in survival meant nothing, if they squandered their values to do it. And if that happened, what were they bothering to save, anyway? She would rathe try, and fail, to succeed in saving the core of what Valdemar was, than live, only to save the nation, but destroy its values and what it stood for.
:I made much the same argument to the Council myself, when they were leaning towards running from that mage and his army.: said Taia. :I knew I liked you.:
:Hmph.: Eothen replied.
Hexen was overjoyed to be reunited with Eothen. As soon as the page came to notify him that Eothen was done meeting with the queen, he raced over to her quarters – and found her sound asleep in her bath. Hexen knew she had to be exhausted, but nevertheless he couldn't help but be a little disappointed. He had been hoping for a little more animated reunion. Still, he picked her up and dried her off, laid her in her bed to sleep – and sat. He knew she would sleep for a long time, so he got comfortable. When she started showing signs of waking in a candlemark or so, he sent a page to bring some food; he knew she would wake up ravenous. He was right; when she woke, she first looked around as if she didn't know where she was. When she had established that she was, in fact, in her own room, she kissed him heartily – and then promptly began to eat.
"Thank you," said Eothen around a mouthful of bread. "I'm sorry, I had intended to see you after my bath – "
"No you didn't," Hexen said, but he was quick to reassure Eothen that he wasn't angry – "you were exhausted. Too exhausted to think, to even know I existed. Don't argue – I'm not mad. It's to be expected. Now tell me what was so important you had to race yourself almost to death to get to Haven."
"You," said Eothen, and then blushed. "Seriously, though, it's going to sound insane."
"Try me," said Hexen. "I've heard some pretty insane stuff, and besides, I know how likely you are to believe in crazy theories. As in, not at all"
"Well, don't say I didn't warn you," said Eothen. "Have you ever heard of the Ur'nomi tribe?"
"A little," said Hexen. "Strange people, don't like to talk. They will answer whatever questions you ask them, but will not elaborate or volunteer anything. What do they have to do with anything?"
"When Valdemar first made contact with them, they assumed, from their mannerisms and dress, that they were quite unsophisticated. If they wanted what another tribe – or nation – had, they defeated them and took it."
"How very unValdemaran," said Hexen. "What does that have to do with us?"
"Well," said Eothen, "what if they weren't so unsophisticated? What if instead of defeating an enemy militarily, which could have led to destruction if their enemy was more powerful than they were – what if they used subterfuge?"
"That – would make sense," said Hexen. "But we allied with them generations ago, you surely don't think they could keep up their subterfuge for this long?"
"That's the really crazy part," said Eothen. "I do. A civilization like Valdemar would take a long time to infiltrate and take over, I don't think they planned on it taking this long, but I do think they managed to do it."
"They began to infiltrate, and assumed they could just assassinate our leaders," said Hexen. "But they didn't count on the Heralds – no way would they have allowed a takeover."
"And with that kind of time, they also were able to destabilize and destroy all our allies, who did not have Heralds," said Eothen. "We have seen how successful that has been, and the same types of destabilization we saw in those countries, has been happening on a smaller scale, town by town, here."
"Wow," said Hexen. "And there aren't enough Heralds anymore to keep it from happening. With Gifts being less prevalent than in previous generations, the Companions have not been as fertile; that is why they are striking now."
"Why aren't Gifts as prevalent, or as strong, anyway?" asked Eothen. "Do you know?"
"I think it's because technology is taking the place of magic," said Hexen. "So whoever or whatever is responsible for giving the Gifts, doesn't think we need them anymore, I guess. Who knows what goes on in the minds of gods."
"Who indeed," said Eothen. "So anyway, the Council is debating on what to do about it, and before they decide, I think the decision wil be made for them."
:Now you understand Councils.: sad Aladrian.
:Now you finally wake up.: said Eothen, teasingly.
:I spent all that time running, you just sat there like a lump.: Aladrian said, just as teasingly.
"What are their options?" asked Hexen.
"There are two," answered Eothen. "One, recall all the Guard and Heralds, and basically re-conquer all Valdemaran territory. That would be faster and easier, but run the risk of killing innocents."
"As well as sacrificing all that Valdemar stands for in the first place," said Hexen. "What's the other option?"
"More of what we've been doing, basically," answered Eothen. "Pair up groups of 3 or 4 Heralds with Guard contingents and go town by town, quelling rebellion and arresting the instigators."
"Which takes a really long time, likely longer than we have," said Hexen. "And if the town fights, and wins, will stoke further rebellion with fewer soldiers to fight it now."
"Yes," said Eothen. "And judging from the level of fight the towns already have, I doubt that it would work. But if we do it the first way, what is it we're trying to save, anyway? Not Valdemar. Just….a country, which stands for nothing, and runs the risk of becoming even more brutal than the people we are trying to defeat."
"Right," said Hexen. "But right this instant, it is not our problem to solve. And I, for one, am very interested in giving you a proper welcome home."
"Oh really," said Eothen. And they spent the next few candlemarks not attempting to solve any problems at all.
Caryli was tired. Bone tired, the kind of tired that will not even come close to being fixed by mere sleep. She last had any of that two – three? – days ago. That was also the last time she'd had a chance to bathe, and she felt it. She was sure her fellow guard members could smell it too, but they were suffering the same lack, so they could hardly complain. She was not injured, which was more than she could say for anyone else under her command. The wagon carrying the wounded was a endless cycle; one would heal enough to return to duty, another would fall injured. Rika had healed; through mindspeech, however, it was decided that as much as Eothen and she missed each other, Rika would be next to useless in Haven. So she spent all her time hunting food for the Guard contingent; they were still hungry, but not starving, as they might have been save for her help. Caryli was grateful.
She was also grateful to Rika for her help in providing replacement mounts, for injured or exhausted horses. She had been forced to defeat some town in battle, so far successful, and unfortunately that first town had not been the only one she had had to burn. Rika had served there, as well, in attempting to rescue any animal trapped in a burning barn. Few were the towns where they could pass through in peace, and when they did, they made sure to eat – thereby spending money in towns that showed loyalty – and bathed in the rivers that flowed near them. The last such town had been – she remembered now – three days ago. She had gone as long as a sennight before, but she hated being dirty. She should have been a soapmaker; she considered the irony of someone as fastidiously clean as she preferred to be, working as Captain of a travelling Guard contingent, where bathing was irregular by necessity. She supposed it a good thing, though; without the exercise and spotty meals, she would have become quite overweight, as Samra was an excellent cook.
She sorely missed her wife. They were somewhat used to being apart, since Caryli worked as a field guard Captain and Samra was the chef in a noble's home; but Caryli's job was supposed to have been temporary, only until she could get promoted to Lieutenant and be stationed in either a city or a Guardpost permanently, and she would move Samra to be with her wherever that was. Their separation was only supposed to be for three or four moons; it had now been six. They had been delayed in every town, for much the same reason they were now fighting their way to Haven. Her Guard contingent had been on its way to the last town before the Guardpost where she would hopefully be awarded her promotion; that Lieutenant had earned his retirement and would be transferred to Haven to train new recruits. Caryli had hoped to be picked to replace him, and likely would have been, had those Heralds not raced up and needed help. Instead of enjoying her promotion and awaiting the arrival of her beloved Samra in the place where they could stay and make a home, here she was, hungry, tired and filthy, another fortnight out of Haven. At least she would have her reunion when she arrived, although she doubted even Samra would be excited to see her as filthy as she was.
Caryli sighed; they were a half-days ride out from the next town. This one was a big one, and she was nervous. It was big enough that in the past, when there had been enough Guard to go around, it would have had a small Guard contingent of its own. She wished it had; she would have at least been able to count on help. And a bath, when it was over. Maybe even some bread and ale, and camaraderie. But no matter; there was not another contingent, and she would just have to find a way to do it by herself. Somehow. If the town fought, she didn't believe she had the numbers to defeat it; neither could they successfully burn it without being killed halfway through. Burning a town, much as she hated to do it, only worked if they could finish the entire thing before enough townspeople could gather enough to fight back. This town was simply too big. So she decided to ride along the outskirts, not straight through the middle, the way they usually did. Down the middle tended to root out all the rebels at once, leaving the innocents safe in their homes, at least when they had the honor to fight an honest battle; but this town would have too many people to defeat, and enough nobility to have trained and organized their rebel army. So outskirts it was.
They began on the west side. They defeated all those that attacked; then rode again, this time on the east end of town. Then they rode down the first major road just inside the edge of the west side, then east. They continued riding through the town – really, it was a small city – west, then east, then west, closer and closer to the center until they were, in fact, riding and fight through the center of town. At this point it was nightfall, and her troops were exhausted, bloody, and most had minor or even severe injuries. But they couldn't stop until they finished, or else what rebels remained would regroup, and probably fight guerrilla style; they had no hope of winning if that happened. So they fought on, grimly, until the last rebel stopped fighting and the rest of the townspeople hung white sheets outside their windows, signaling their surrender.
"We have reclaimed this town for Valdemar, of which you are citizens," said Caryli, as loudly and clearly as she could. "The survivors will be executed for treason, as it is, in fact, treason to attack Valdemaran Guard and wage war. If any object, let them join the rebels, for I have neither the time nor the patience to hear debates and excuses."
She waited; none of the sheets wavered, signaling that at least these townspeople were not, currently, rebellious. That was the best she could do; she would have like to have interviewed them all independently, as she would have in a smaller town, but that would have taken days. She was beginning to feel the pressure of time; she needed to get to Haven. She could waste no more time here. She and her second-in-command finished executing the treasonous rebels; this was another part of her job she hated doing. Had there been a Guard contingent in this town, if they even were able to mount a rebellion, that standing guard would have staged a trial for the rebels, sending for a Herald if necessary, and they would have executed the rebels themselves. As it was, trials were largely abandoned for obvious treasonous acts and were executed by herself and her second. She knew it was the only sentence for treason the law allowed, and had she been promoted to that Guardpost, she would be the one carrying out such a sentence. Still, she did not relish it, and completed her task as quickly and with as much mercy as possible.
They made camp just outside the town, next to the river that large towns tended to grow up near. Finally, a bath. She used privilege of rank to go first, but she did not take her time. She unsaddled her horse and brushed him out well, and cleaned out her clothing, armor, and weapons as well. By then plenty of her crew had joined her; one of them had been responsible for setting up her tent, one for making the fire. Rika turned up just then with some venison; that would go nicely with the warthog she'd dropped off with the wagon just before the fighting. She wasted no time jumping into the river to get clean herself. Rysen cooked them a decent meal, for all that it was all meat, they set a watch for the night – Caryli decided to use one more privilege of rank and not take a turn, she was the one person that absolutely needed to be clear headed come morning in case of another battle, and currently she did not feel up to the task. So for once in over a moon, she slept the sleep of the dead until morning.
In the morning she woke, to a depressingly beautiful day. She didn't feel like the days should be anything but cold and grey when there was so much killing and fighting going on, but the weather was determined to fail to cooperate. For the next fortnight they rode towards Haven, relentlessly as ever. There were only a few towns left between Caryli and Haven, Caryli and Samra. She had to fight to keep their pace steady; everything in her wanted to ride at a gallop all the way to her beloved Samra, even though she knew her horse would lame himself and die long before she arrived if she tried. Finally, they arrived; she did quicken their pace and that point, at least as much as she could given the crowded and busy streets of the poor district. She made it to the merchant district next, and at least it smelled better; perfumes, soap, candles, desserts, sweet breads….all the smells of a thriving business district of a busy city. Next was the area reserved for nobility; Caryli started to get nervous and excited. This street would take them right past the one Samra worked in.
Eothen heard from Rika that both her bondmate and her friend the Guard Captain had made it to Haven. She decided to saddle up Aladrian and ride out to meet them; she was excited, she needed to get out, and she wanted to show off her Whites, if she was being honest. So she rode past the Palace gates, down the street she knew Caryli would be arriving from. She could see her friend coming; she decided to stop about two streets before she would meet them.
Caryli was ecstatic. She was almost to the house where Samra worked; and sure enough, her beloved came racing out the front door, a grin on Samra's face, and Caryli had one to match. She got ready to swing Samra onto her horse and hold her tight – when Samra stopped short. A confused look on her face. Samra opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out – only blood. Then she fell – and Caryli saw the blade in her wife's back.
Eothen saw her friend, and she saw what must be Samra run out to meet her; Samra was dark skinned, dark haired, a tiny little thing, really. Then she saw the knife appear in Samra's back; right in between her ribs, where she knew from experience, would pierce her heart. Even had a chirurgeon been present, she could not be saved. Then she heard an inhuman sounding wail, half pain, half anger – and realized it was coming from Caryli. Caryli stood up in her saddle and strung her bow, in the direction that Samra had been hit from – Eothen was not surprised to see a body hit the ground in front of her, bearing more knives matching the one in Samra's back. She was not surprised, however, that he was wearing the same green-grey weave she had seen on the mage and other rebels. Ur'nomi.
She was, however, surprised to see Caryli lying next to her wife. Dead. Not a mark on her.
:Well,: said Taia sadly, :I guess lifebonds still exist afterall.:
