Fallen Warrior (Fallen Trilogy book 3) Read online

  There were enough Yanartians about on the platform to make us lose a few minutes in greetings, not that we could give them the news about Echren. Most didn't know where we'd gone or why. I turned back to Lucian in time to take the satchel he was holding out for me. "To the Chamber?" I asked, already knowing the answer would be yes.

  He stretched out a hand in that direction. I walked on and he fell into step beside me. Luffie had already told me she would stay and wait to hear the warrior's response, despite her need for rest; and it seemed Arrin had the same plan, though he wouldn't stop looking around.

  "Do you have the pledge?" Lucian asked distractedly.

  "In my bag."

  He nodded.

  "You know I can go by myself if you like. I'll make sure to give them the news from the Ghaundians as well."

  "Hmm? No. They'll be expecting me."

  We passed a pair of Yanartian boys, young. They stopped to point at us, whispering. I smiled, while Lucian frowned. "Does it bother you so much?" I asked, laughing a little.

  "I just don't see the point to it. Everyone here has always known who I was. They didn't make anything of it before."

  Before, you weren't the only surviving heir to a kingless throne, I thought. I said: "You must have known this was what would happen after Molec's death."

  He raised his brow at another gawker. "I grew up here, where we don't have rulers. So... no, I didn't know. Before you came, I didn't even understand that royalty was treated much differently at all. And once you got your crown back..." He was alluding to the attention that it had first gotten me.

  "Well, at least you don't have one of those," I teased.

  He winced at the thought.

  "It probably won't be so severe once the war is over. It's just because Akadia is on everyone's mind. I certainly don't get as much attention as you."

  "Really?" he asked with confusion. "I was just thinking the same thing in reverse. You mean when you're alone?"

  "You must be more popular," I went on, "Or else the both of us together compounds the problem."

  He made a face.

  It looked so ridiculous that I was just about to laugh when it suddenly shifted, and his gaze along with it—somewhere behind me, and moving with a steady focus in one direction as if he were watching a bird pass. Only I knew well enough from the look in his eye that it was no bird.

  I turned to see Estrid Larke walking fast along a bridge that ran parallel to ours. She was a blur of black and dark blue, the special Warrior's garb that she always wore, while the chimera, Tris, that followed behind her was just the opposite, white and pink. From their pace and direction, clearly neither of them had seen us. I waited for Lucian to call to her, when he didn't, I sighed internally and did the job myself. "Ho, Captain!"

  She halted at the title, and so did Tris. I heard Lucian clear his throat, and Arrin whine as the two looked our way. Even with the yards of space between us, her appearance was disarming. Skin so pale it made her lips look red. And black bangs that fell into her face while the rest of her hair was pulled back into a wondrously thick ponytail. I couldn't help but thinking my trainer was one lucky Cirali Warrior.

  She looked between Lucian and I without her usual smile. "You're back," she said simply.

  "Just. It took forever in Echren," I answered. "Then we had to stop in Ghaund."

  "Did you have a good time?" she asked.

  Lucian still hadn't spoken. I waited for him to respond, and when he didn't I stepped on his foot.

  "Yes. It was fine," he answered in a wince. "I mean, it went better than we'd expected."

  "Then he'd expected," I corrected, pointing his direction. I predicted this would draw a laugh if not a joke at Lucian's expense from Estrid, but she didn't do either and I was stuck laughing on my own.

  "The birds agreed to help then?" she asked.

  I said "yes" at the same time Lucian said "not quite".

  Estrid frowned.

  "They'll help once we've spoken to the Black Tortoises," I said.

  "If they say yes," Lucian corrected.

  "And they promised to help Ghaund through the winter," I added.

  Lucian looked like he might counter, until I raised a brow at him in challenge, then he shrugged, bobbing his head, "Alright, they did promise that," he admitted, smiling a little at himself as he looked back at Estrid. Only she wasn't matching it.

  "We were just on our way to tell the Chamber Warriors," I explained.

  Estrid jerked back suddenly. "You mean you haven't seen them yet?" she asked

  It was hard not to frown at the quick change in demeanor. "No... Why? Is something wrong?"

  "Wrong?" she echoed. She slid her gaze up to the trees and back. "Well, I suppose that depends on who you ask."

  "What? What do you mean? I'm asking you." She'd been acting strange from the beginning, but now I was really starting to get concerned.

  Her sharp brows dropped low. "And I suppose you expect an answer? As soon as you demand it? Isn't that the sort of treatment princesses get?"

  Luffie growled.

  "Estrid—" Lucian's voice cut off as she switched her glare to him.

  "You're taking her side?" she said.

  "I'm not taking anyone's side," he corrected. "Estrid, what's wrong? Did the Warriors do something?"

  Her brows dipped and I thought her eyes might water; this time her look was all for Lucian. "And what if they did? Would you argue with them?"

  Lucian reared back—as suddenly as if he'd been struck. My eyes widened. Luffie flashed the answer to me... as if we all already didn't know it.

  "I don't see what that has to do with anything," Lucian said, "If something's happened—"

  Estrid's eyes really did tear up now. Mine went wide and I looked helplessly at Lucian, but he was just staring at her. Estrid sniffed, then wiped her eyes. "Oh, go and talk to them then, see if I care," she said. Then she made to turn, but stopped herself before and frowned at me, her expression full of regret.

  I shook my head in understanding—even though I didn't really understand at all. Her frown deepened, then she turned and marched away before she could cry again. Tris followed in her wake, causing Arrin—who'd already been whining—to move to the edge of the bridge.

  Lucian's expression was pure confusion. He looked between Estrid and the way to the Warrior's chamber, almost as if he wasn't sure he could say what he was about to. "Ellia, I don't think I can... I think I have to—"

  "I know," I said, "Go on."

  He looked after Estrid, then moved off in the direction she'd gone—quickly breaking into a run to match Arrin.

  I frowned in their direction. Luffie walked up beside me, her head at my waist. We were both thinking the same thing—that there was no telling what was going on. Estrid and Lucian spent nearly all their time together, they were clearly mad about each other, and yet they still hadn't acknowledged that they had any sort of relationship. Whenever I tried to talk to Estrid about it, she usually said something about how strict he was, or how little he liked sailing. And Lucian grew flustered enough in Estrid's presence, let alone if you tried to mention her.

  "Do you think something's actually going on with the Warriors?" I asked Luffie.

  Her thoughts grew very quiet for a moment, then she presented me with a single picture. The two Yanartians that Lucian and I had passed, pointing us out and whispering. I swallowed, my throat too thick for comfort.

  "Come on," I said, "We better hurry."

  And you better be wrong, I added in my thoughts.

  CYRIC:

  We'd taken the lift to the desert floor, then passed hundreds of workers, soldiers, iron-works, weaving downwards into the waterless lake.

  The air was somehow hotter and more putrid at the bottom than it had been when the cavern was underground. The constant clanking of metal echoed off the walls. Finally we reached the tent that marked the working place of Silos. It was a generous size, made of thick, deep maroon and purple canvases and velvets
, set-up on the bottom floor of the cavern as it had to be to keep Silos close to the Behemoths.

  My soldier gave me a look that expressed what he wouldn't say: that he didn't understand why we were down here, or why I'd made a man with an injured foot walk so far. I thought I must have been too kind on the walk down to make him brave enough to question me. Then I pushed back the flap of the tent's entrance. There was a strange smell, but I couldn't see far inside thanks to the lack of fire-light.

  "Who's that?" someone called.

  There was a sharp hiss and a flash of light as a torch flared up. Silos used it to light a branch of candles. I could see him now, surrounded by the rich hues of his tent, not that he was much a sight. He wore—as he always did—black robes from head to foot that left only his eyes uncovered. It was trademark to his people, Kanthians, and something of sacred important to them—but since the first time I'd met him in this very cavern (while he'd inspected the injured Behemoths) I'd forced him to remove his head-wear in my presence, and there was no changing that now.

  "Master Dracla," he said, pulling the black hood down to his neck. "Forgive my discourtesy."

  "It's fine. What's that smell?" Only a small part of me was curious; that hadn't been why I'd asked.

  He glanced at the smoking bowls on his desk. "Just some remedies I've been testing."

  "For the Behemoths?" I asked. It was a stupid question—keeping the Behemoths alive was Silos's job. I didn't wait for him to give the answer before waving the soldier behind me inside the tent. "You've worked on men before, right? Will you look at his leg?"

  "Did something stop the Akadian healers from being able?" Silos asked, though he was already appraising the soldier. He gestured to a stool and the soldier sat.

  "Just do it," I ordered, having no better response.

  I looked around the room while he removed the soldier's boot. It was cluttered with lush furnishings, furniture; fine instruments, small and intricate, many of them golden. The tools had come with Silos; the rest, like the tent, had come from Lox—rewards for just one of his valuable assets.

  "It seems to be a twisted ankle," Silos said. "Not even sprained."

  "That's it?" I marched over to them—where Silos was rotating the soldier's foot.

  "Unless there's somewhere else you'd like me to check."

  "I thought that... you remember what you said about the lead before?"

  "With the Behemoths?" Silos asked, curious.

  "No. I mean about the granted animals being prone to things that could eventually affect..."

  "Humans?"

  "Others creatures," I corrected. "Anyways, it looked to me like..." I frowned and bent down myself to inspect the soldier's ankle. They were both watching me. The soldier jerked away at my touch. I thought it was a wise move— if he'd halted training for a twisted ankle I was going to kill him.

  "There's nothing," Silos said, echoing my own realization.

  The air in the tent was definitely too thick. I rose to my feet and waved a hand. "Bandage it up then," I ordered. "And make sure it's tight."

  Right, bandages, I thought: for a twisted ankle.

  I went back outside before Silos could tell me how excessive that was. I walked to one of the posts of the tent and leaned against it, crossing my arms, under shade. Without having to take any sort account of my position, I looked to the right. There, not far from Silos's tent, hugging the cavern wall was a fenced in oval that acted as home now to most the Behemoths—really all of them, only they worked in shifts that meant that they were rarely there all at once.

  Despite all the pains that Lox had taken to keep them alive, only about a third of them were able to work the chains at a time, the others had to rest, and they rotated through this.

  Still, according to Silos, if they'd been kept underground they would have all been dead by now, and—diminished or not—the Behemoths were still responsible for keeping the forges running at unnaturally high rates. Since the return of the soldiers, Lox had only increased production; he intended for every soldier to be wearing plate by the time the spring came, and he was constantly building new weapons, often of Bellerophon's design (the same smith who had created the chimera killing metal launchers).

  Clustered together as the Behemoths were now—the children in with the full-grown adults—they really did look like a herd of oversized rhinos. One of the largest of them dipped its horn down towards the earth, and the young one beside it tucked its head over the top of the horn. Both their horns were matching tarnished gold.

  I shifted my gaze from the sight.

  The space around Silos's tent was in no way abandoned. The closest group of diggers looked like a mix of Birmians and Carbans. They were all too thin, sweating and dirt-smudged. A few out of the bunch were women, and one was close to me. She wore some scraps of linen that were torn. She noticed me watching her only once she'd straightened up to wipe her face. I held her gaze when she looked at me, even while she blinked, even while she frowned, but she forced me to a stop when she turned back to her work.

  I swallowed, then took a steady breath, leaning my head back against the wood post, closing my eyes—but only in time to hear a scuffle behind me.

  "All patched up, Lieutenant," my injured soldier said. He was favoring his bandaged foot, though he had his boot back on over it now.

  I saved off a glare, and jerked my head toward the exit of the cavern. "Find your own way back. And if they're still running course when you get there, go around with them."

  He nodded, only showing the slightest sign of confusion before I pushed past him to join Silos back inside the tent.

  "I was told you needed to ask me about something," I said tersely.

  He was already back to working over his desk. He looked up to glance skeptically outside the tent.

  "By the soldier?"

  "No. By my..." My voice trailed off. I thought of Slark, and his all-too-convenient excuse to get me to go in his place. I wanted to scowl but couldn't quite pull it off. "Never mind," I said to Silos. I ran a hand back through my hair, then I made to turn, but before I could leave, Silos called to me.

  "You're not Akadian are you?" he asked. "Not originally, I mean."

  I hesitated. Then I looked back at him. "I'm from Shaundakul."

  "The dragon lords?" His tone was reverent.

  I nodded.

  "May the stars keep you, then," he said, bowing his silver head.

  My expression went very grim, I could tell, even though I hadn't meant for it to. I spared a final glance for his surroundings, then I left the tent.

  ELLIA:

  "You did what!?" I demanded, feeling as if the Warrior's chamber around me were closing in. It would be a simple enough thing, the hollowed out inside of tree, growing back as it used to be, swallowing up the circle of chairs and high table, and orbed chandelier giving off dim light.

  Six of the thirteen first-order Warriors stood around me, most of them thankfully not occupying their high seats:

  Lightning-eyed Alex Scarn, his wife Tory. Lodan Falster, the first man I'd ever met on Yanartian shores. A very oft-complaining bearded man, named Khaliir. Elminster, the wisest and eldest of the Warriors. Fire-haired Lyrie, who still pretended I didn't know she'd once favored my father. And Amalia Denathar, Lucian's mother.

  "Please, princess," Alec said, raising his hand to me, "we didn't do anything."

  "Don't call me that. Just... don't. You called me Ellia long after I told you who I was. If you didn't believe me before I had my crown, I don't want to be reminded constantly."

  "Ellia," Lodan chided, true hurt showing through in his tone. Alec looked rightly offended as well. I put a hand to my head to collect my thoughts, but this only reminded me of what they'd just told me. I looked back at them, red-faced.

  "How could you even think of such a union without speaking with me first?"

  "It wasn't that way," Tory answered for him. "It was mentioned first by Prince Vartus while he was visiting, and then all of t
he Democedian's here were circulating the idea. Then when the news just came that Lox had been forced to dispose of another Lord for spreading word about Lucian... it was just a natural progression that it got out of hand."

  "None of us have confirmed anything," Alec promised.

  "Well, of course you haven't, it's the most absurd thing I've ever heard. If the Democedians were starting rumors, you should have stopped them." I looked at Amalia, expecting support and understanding on behalf of her son.

  Of course now, I realized, that it was no wonder that Estrid had been upset. She had every right. I was only glad, at least, that she'd kept Lucian from coming to see the Warrior's with me, because I wouldn't have wanted to face him with this news.

  "Absurd?" Amalia tested. She frowned. "I think that's a strong label..."

  I narrowed at her, but only until I was distracted by Alec. "Have you heard the situation in Akadia? That most there realize that Lucian is the heir to the throne?"

  "Of course I have. I don't see what that has to do with anything."

  "It's the war," Lodan said, "In the war, in the final battles, when they come again. And if we defeat Akadia—"

  "We will defeat Akadia," I interrupted.

  "Yes, well, have you thought in that case, who will rule it?" Lodan went on.

  "It's not as if it will disappear with Lox," Alec said. "Your people will return to Shaundakul, and whatever others are there can be freed, but what about the Akadians?"

  I had to swallow at the mention of Shaundakul. I pressed my lips to think, then almost burst out, "Are you saying that Lucian would rule it?"

  The silence of the Warriors was answer enough. Particularly Amalia, holding her chin steady.

  "Have you asked him about this?" I asked.

  "There's a consideration of duty here," Kahliir said, "Not only personal want."

  "Yanartas is Lucian's home. He has a chimera. He couldn't—"

  "You speak confidently on his behalf for someone so opposed to marriage," Tory pointed out. Her eyes were speculative, as if she guessed to trap me in admitting I would actually want to marry Lucian.

  "Even if Lucian did want to rule Akadia," I said, "I don't see what that has to do with me."