Another chapter set in the past. Yes, it's going a little bit slowly, but I didn't want to rush what we all know is coming. Please let me know what you think :)

Chapter 22

Seasons passed. The leaves on the trees swirled in Autumnal sweeps across the meadows, rustling under their hooves as they galloped beneath the stars. Winter whisked across the Andalite home world, and they grew thicker coats, but it was never cold enough to cause them difficulties. Andalites are in essence creatures adapted to temperate climates, and their fingers would never have survived exposure to truly cold conditions. Winter merely frosted their breath and then retreated, and Spring came again, bringing with it new leaves and new hope for Jahar. As the days passed the world of war retreated, further and further away. Jahar no longer built her dreams on her mate's military success; they were now far more modest. She foresaw a future of anonymity, of being forgotten by all but her most loyal friends, of living alone with Alloran and their children in the Scoop. Such an outlook suited her, but not her husband, and that was troubling.

Alloran could not accept his fate. He would not resolve himself unto a life of solitude but waited, ever hopeful, for the summons back to war. It made Jahar's hearts ache to see him fret in the fields, galloping far beyond his dietary requirements to maintain his optimum physical position, or duelling holograms when he thought she wasn't looking. He was a father to their children, but he yearned to be a warrior again. He was not stolid, home-loving Arbat and no amount of wishing would make him be. Sometimes she caught herself wondering what her life would have been like with Arbat, what would have happened if she had stayed. She supposed she would have loved him eventually, at least as the father of her children. Still, it would never have compared.

And she did love Alloran. Her affection for him returned hesitatingly, as the sunny days and gallops together gently dimmed the memory of those howling Hork Bajir. The more he loved her and treasured her and devoted his life to her the more she disconnected her husband from his crime, attributing it to the horrors of war, far removed from her kind and tender husband in the here and now. And they were both aided by his many nights at home, a fact she recognised candidly herself. Many Andalite females with husbands in the war suffered in silence from loneliness, and Jahar attributed some of her initial fury against Alloran to frustrated desire. When she could be in his arms every night, no longer leaping desperately but relaxing into gentle, familiar intimacy it felt as if her life was slowly settling into what should be.

If only he would lose his itchy hooves.

One Spring day Jahar took Farling and Tirdellan to see Kalladin's young son, Kipsing on a planned visit. Kipsing was a little older than Farling, and a fast grower. His first move when they visited was always to challenge Farling to a tail fight, and he usually beat the younger male soundly. Farling disliked the weighted fights, but Jahar urged him to accept them because Kipsing was an only child and so rarely had the opportunity to show off his skill. His own father was a lowly technician who flew with the fleet and ran repairs on the smoking fighters brought back by the warriors from exciting battles with Yeerk Bug fighters, their sides seared and Shredders buzzing from repeated fire.

Your boy is hardly fair to mine, Jahar remarked as she and Kalladin amused Tirdellan with a three player game called 'Conquest'. She glanced at the central computer simulation of a landscape and moved her second war band to the edge of Tirdellan's territories.

Better watch your mother, Kalladin advised Tirdellan. She's after your Ramonite reserves. Tirdellan scanned the landscape, then selected a dome ship and sent it to the Ramonite mines. Jahar laughed.

A bit of an overreaction, Tirdellan, but there's no doubt they're safe now. However, I fear Kalladin has tricked you.

I said nothing but the truth, Kalladin replied, deftly sending a small force of assassins into Tirdellan's central command. She was indeed after your reserves. Unfortunately I am after your High command. As they watched, Tirdellan's skeletal defence force attempted to resist the assassins, and Kalladin smiled as they were shot down.

Are you so sure you have won? Tirdellan asked curiously. She waited patiently for Kalladin's force to advance, and then laughed as they triggered a trap and were shot down by hidden wall Shredders. Kalladin snorted.

Clever. You worked out my strategy several turns ago. Tirdellan nodded. Jahar's go, Kalladin added. Jahar swung back to the game, looking away from their sons. Kipsing was busily instructing Farling in a new tail strike he had learnt a few days before. As she watched with her left stalk eye Kipsing demonstrated by snapping his tail past Farling's face, then whipping it back and catching him a stinging blow over the ear. Farling staggered a little, but then straightened again, game to be taught.

You might teach your son to use the blunt of his tail more, she murmured, selecting Shredder cannons and positioning them above Kalladin's main transport route. Mine's bleeding. Kalladin glanced round and sighed.

I apologise. I will discipline him later. Jahar completed her move and waved Kalladin's words aside.

A few light cuts never hurt anyone. I am more concerned for how many friends Kipsing will keep if he does not learn to play gently. At school they are less tolerant of males who have not learnt to control their tails. Jahar cocked her head to watch as Tirdellan sent an effective fighter strike against her secondary command centre. Well done, Tirdellan. The younger Andalite inclined her head, smiling at the praise. Kalladin stretched in an Andalite yawn, and dispatched some fighters to disrupt Jahar's cannon building arrangements.

Kipsing will learn soon enough. Not long now until he enters the education system.

They played late into the afternoon, the game concluding with a tense tail fight between Jahar's one surviving War Prince and two arisths Tirdellan had sent to the far reaches of the map at the beginning of the game who had escaped detection until the very end. Kalladin snickered as one of the arisths took off the Prince's arm.

Forgive me, Jahar, but since you showed me no mercy when I made the tactical mistake of allowing you too near my central command I have no compunction in enjoying your downfall.

You shouldn't have made such a foolish move, Jahar replied good-naturedly. I could hardly pass up such an opportunity. Alloran would have been most unimpressed.

Does your warrior husband know his wife is about to lose to her own daughter? Kalladin asked as Jahar's Prince fell to his knees.

I think he'll be more impressed with his daughter than disappointed in me, Jahar replied. Oh go on, put the poor creature out of his misery, she added to Tirdellan. Tirdellan directed her first aristh forward and under their eyes he dispatched the war prince.

What a violent game, Kalladin sighed. Do you remember when we were young, Jahar? We played such simple games as 'Chase the Kafit'.

Yes, and how soon we grew tired of them, Jahar replied. Well done Tirdellan. You're getting much better at this. She glanced up and called for Farling, loading her children back into The Jahar for the flight home. Kipsing hovered near Kalladin's heels, and Jahar extended her tail to him in a friendly farewell. You look bigger everyday Kipsing. He returned the greeting, extending his tail.

When I am grown up I will rebuild our lands, he said quietly. Kalladin flushed a little at his open mention of their poverty, but Jahar only laughed at his seriousness.

Will you indeed? I would like to see that.

Perhaps I should teach my son silence before I teach him to play gently, Kalladin said privately.

I have no doubt he'll fulfil his promise, Jahar replied. But perhaps a lesson in reticence would be appropriate. The females smiled at each other and touched tails, Jahar turning into her ship just as the second sun slid towards the horizon, pouring its final rays across the valley towards them. She powered up the ship and flew them away from it, towards the gathering dusk.

When they landed on their own fields Alloran trotted out of the scoop to meet them, his feet barely touching the ground. The final blaze of sunshine from the third sun was incredibly bright, cutting through the few Spring clouds and bathing him in a radiance which made his fur gleam a metallic blue. Something fluttered in Jahar, and once again she was aware that she had married a male who was most certainly not unattractive. There was a spring to his stride she had not seen in a while and she wondered what could possibly have excited him so much. He greeted the children brightly when they stepped tiredly from the ship, but sent them briskly across the near fields for their evening nourishment, telling them that they would have to gallop alone that day.

Jahar love, will you accompany me? he asked as she stepped down onto the grass. She almost took a step back, so powerful was his animation; he was practically fizzing with energy.

Of course, Alloran. She picked up an easy trot, heading for a ridge which overlooked the fields the children were grazing in, but was forced to start cantering to keep up with him as he skipped ahead. Whatever has excited you so? You seem quite mad.

But I'm not mad! Alloran cried happily. According to the best psychiatrists in the fleet! I passed their wretched tests and that means I can fly with the military again.

Jahar stumbled, conflicted between joy and a sudden foreboding. How wonderful for you to have achieved a positive result, she said, deliberately slowing her pace. She felt as if she had not the breath to run so fast beside him. Alloran too slowed down, so that they were standing beside each other, looking down at their children feeding in the dying rays of the final sun. He stepped closer to her and his hand drifted to her shoulder.

My darling, surely the news that your husband is not mad is good news?

Perhaps I am only sad that we needed a psychiatrist to tell us that, Jahar replied quietly. I am sure most females only need their hearts. Alloran hesitated.

It soothes me at least, to know you are not saddled with an unstable husband.

Yes, Jahar replied. She didn't voice her sentiment that the only thing this psychiatrist report proved was that Alloran had committed his atrocities whilst horrifyingly sane, which seemed somehow far worse. Alloran fidgeted, and then moved on.

Jahar, I have received an offer to return to the war. I am to fly on the Starsword.

Will you go? she asked quietly. He hesitated again, unsure of what her reaction would be.

War can corrupt. We have already seen that it can reveal an unhealthy side in me.

But you would not be you if you did not go, she said tiredly. He flinched guiltily, but she lifted her own hand to his. It's all right, I understand. You are a warrior. She smiled sadly. War Prince Alloran. It was the first time she had used his proper title since his disgrace, and he seemed to grow under the spell of those magical words.

It will be difficult to face the other warriors again, he said. But Jahar, I cannot stay at home and do nothing. I am a fighter. The fleet needs warriors like me. Warriors who know how to fight.

And when to discard integrity, Jahar thought, but she didn't say it. She sighed and turned to Alloran. Just remember that what you do on the battlefield will have to be carried home with you, and into my scoop. Don't bring me anything you would be ashamed of. For an instant the awkwardness of the past hung between them, and she knew then that she was no longer innocent. She loved Alloran, but she was no longer blind as she had been before, when she believed him to be the infallible shining prince. Now, through a haze of resignation she saw that the gleaming warrior was stained by his ability to descend into darkness for the greater cause, a snare dragging at his heels and pulling him down.

I love you so very much, Alloran said, turning to face her. Jahar, I will try so hard this time, for you, my love. He reached out and stroked her face gently. War is madness and horror. It is not a game. And you are all that keeps me sane in it. For a second his mention of insanity shook Jahar to the core, as something horrible gleamed briefly in his deep green eyes, like a fish briefly breaking the surface of a lake, and she shivered. Do not think I want to go because I glory in war, Alloran continued, oblivious to her temporary discomfort. I want to go because I have a duty to our people. If I can serve them then I must. She stroked his face.

Yes, I know. That is why you are you. I know this is what you have to do. Go back to war. They exchanged a soft kiss, and then he bowed to her and turned, leading her back towards home, trotting forwards with the final brilliance of the sunlight breaking on his back. Go back to madness, Jahar whispered, and then she shook herself and followed her flawed mate back to the scoop.