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Twilight in Heaven: Chapter 34

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Chapter 34

By the time I got to the southern edge of the forest by White Hoof, the spirits of fire ring Mt Ararad. It stands the furthest east of the Ribbed Mountains, a slanted horn with three faces gouged out by worms of Meru. All three bowls are white, but the ridges that climb to the peak between them are brown and black. Overhead the sky is dark. Midnight is here or just past, and dawn will not come for hours.

Flames that have escaped their candle wicks circle the summit. They are hounding something, flying quickly through the air in a wide loping circle. At one point they dive as they pass and fall like shooting stars toward a ridge. There are sparks there that die sizzling on the snow. The flames rise again. I am down the mountain but climbing very quickly. I wish I had a sword.

Up close the flames are horsemen with long glaives. They dive at Laeth, who stands over a crack in a ridge, parrying their weapons with a sword in his left hand. Every time their weapons of fire meet his blade of metal, they notch the metal. Yet he strikes back and when the horsemen have passed, plunges the sword into pockets of snow. I can see the cold of it hurts his hand, for he stuffs the sword in, watches for the next rider, and yanks the blade out to fight with it. He cuts them, and their flames turn cold and dead where his blade slashes. But there are many of them.

Merryweather and their little boy are in the crack underneath, and she is heaving stones aside, making it bigger. She throws boulders, but the horsemen are too swift in the open air.

I get closer, moving up the stone arete.

Laeth gets one of the flaming horsemen through the chest, and horse goes dark and black. It’s like a splotch of ink that spreads, ruining the brilliance of fire and light, until the whole horsemen is black as old ashes but smoldering around the edges. It falls, hits the snow, and breaks apart. Laeth yells something to Merryweather, and she stops throwing rocks.

I want to do something, but I have no idea what. Death take me, I’m going to help. Fate, let Intercepting Fist find these notes. I am tucking them among the rocks, and they should stay dry. I know I’m supposed to stay out. I can hide, but I won’t anymore.

Goodbye. I’m going.

#

My name is Intercepting Fist. I am an operator of Fate.

On 3rd Brumaire, the Olnedes were observed at White Hoof Massif. A source operates at White Hoof, one Nivale, Daughter of Aethionema, of the line of Lumina. Our next contact was not scheduled for some months, however the appearance of the Children of Olnedi away from any known volcanic eruption is a Class 5a suspicious event. My primary mission objectives were determine the reasons for and threats presented by the appearance of the Olnedes. In accordance with SOP, I also attempted a health and welfare check for the source. At the time of the incident, I was source’s handler.

The high-probability cause for an unexpected appearance of volcano spirits is unexpected volcanic activity. My initial premise was an unscheduled eruption, from which the Olnedes had escaped their bonds early. I took a complete vulcanology kit and notified the Bureau of Natural Disasters and Cataclysms via forms 10-992e and 10-992j. Forms had been accepted and signed. BNDC POC is Asst. Sec. Rock Thunder, see Receipt of Notice, 3-14.

A low-probability cause for the unexpected appearance of the Olnedes is madness. I sought and received Authorization for Terminal Sanction in defense of the source. BS POC is Divine Saturn.

Upon arriving on scene, I performed an initial recon. Time was between midnight and dawn. Weather was overcast. Terrain was mountainous/rocky with glaciers. Footing would be deeply suboptimal. I rode my personal transport, a lightning-dragon Lucky 8 who is certified for combat operations. The airborne Olnedes had formed a ‘doom loop,’ a harassing tactic used by cavalry against dismounted infantry. No signs of volcanic activity were identified.

I DID perform a ET 411 test for volcanic activity and confirmed no warning signs. It’s in the appendix. Allegations I failed to perform the test and violated EOF/ROE are a damned lie.

Negatively confirming the high-probability case, I closed on the engagement.

Cinders lay distributed across snow and ice. Not less than eight Olnedes had been slain. As I watched, one of the lava children dove on their adversaries. A primary aggressor executed a forward mounted attack with a mounted weapon and was parried by a swordsman. A female defender attacked with a chunk of ice of medium-log size. The ice spar struck the rider in the mount, and since the Olnedes are one entity, the cold attack on the apparent ‘horse’ caused damage to the rider. The aggressor went down and spread his ashes across the mountainside.

However both defenders went down as well. Upon closing, I observed innumerable burns to both combatants. The nature of the injuries prevented significant blood loss, but their skins had begun to turn. Black wounds like charred wood marred their flesh.

Further, the female combatant expressed the features of the line of Aethionema. Wielding several thousand pounds of ice as a melee weapon was in agreement with a dryad of Lumina’s line in their place of power, as was hair color and build. The Luminesque dryads tend toward tall but resilient entities.

Seeing both defenders fall but keep struggling, the Olnedes abandoned their harassing tactics and gathered for a cavalry charge.

Within the limits of battlefield intelligence, I used training and best judgment in accordance with Battles Guidance 0-1. I declared positive ID that the female combatant was the source, and therefore Terminal Sanction was authorized. The Olnedes numbered less than two dozen. I attacked.

The Olnedes formation had achieved maximum velocity, following an attack vector along the arete when I came up the same arete with Lucky 8 skimming the rocks. The Olnedes did not see me until I engaged. I executed a frontal assault almost on top of the defenders. Two volcano spirits I slew with my fists, off balanced another, and dragged him along the saw-tooth edge of the arete until rock tore him apart. The other riders diverged into two formations. Before they could rally, I assaulted the eastern formation from behind and got among them. They lost situational awareness, failed to evade in time, and I engaged and destroyed the enemy formation.

Emerging, I discovered the opposing enemy formation had rallied and assaulted their targets on the rocks. Such bloody-mindedness is atypical in capricious volcano spirits. Upon assaulting the enemy, I discovered another Lumanesque dryad operating in defense. She had taken the sword from the fallen male defender, but approximately ten Olnedes attacked her. I engaged them from the side, dismounted into their formation, and released Lucky 8 to operate as close air support. Landing on a fire-rider, I tore him limb from limb and beat his comrades with his remains.

The engagement ended shortly.

Having terminated their attack, I observed the defending combatants.

The remaining female defender was the source. I initiated passcode confirmation and received the correct challenge response. The initial female defender was the source’s sister, and the swordsman the source’s sister’s spouse. I performed triage. The source had not suffered life threatening wounds. The spouse was beyond care. The sister might survive. In accordance with Serenity Final Principles 0-8, I gathered sister and spouse together to ease his final passing. He died in her arms.

The sister asked for one ‘Kog,’ and the source retrieved a child from a hidden spot among the rocks. The child had succumbed to exposure and ceased responding to stimuli.

The dryad, while powerful in her home, was still limited by the nature of her home. To wit, the line of Aethionema is powerful among the Simhalls, yet the Simhalls are perilous to their kind. The end effect is one of heightened mutual lethality not mutual survivability. I judged the child beyond care, but considered some possibility of getting the source and source’s immediately family off the mountain before death. When I summoned Lucky 8 for exfiltration, the source’s sister blessed the child, cried for her husband, and died as well.

I exfiltrated source and child, retrieving the source’s reports, which are filed as an addendum.

Terminal Sanction was clearly used as authorized. While initial positive ID may have been flawed, the source was present for the engagement. Therefore executing Terminal Sanction was in accordance with terms authorized by Divine Saturn herself. Legalese nonsense to the contrary is blister popping. The Prosecuting Officer’s remarks are comprehensively garbage, lacking legal standing, understanding of the limitations of real-time conflict, and ignorant of SOP. The PO is obviously operating under a delusion of omniscience given by reading too many reports and not being in enough fights. He is an idiot, a fool, and a disgrace to the service.

With a peculiarly blank mind I flipped the page. The following few pages were collected forms. Operator Intercepting Fist had been charged with failure to follow procedure while executing Terminal Sanction and found guilty. He had been demoted from operator status and assigned to border control operations in the Ticonae North.

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Twilight in Heaven: Chapter 33

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Chapter 33

Hyrthon walks in circles, muttering to himself, and having half-conversations where he yells at invisible antagonists. He’s talking himself up, getting madder and madder, when I climb the roof and peer through the ceiling. He’s posted up in the Aspen Forest, a guest room in the east wing. I didn’t know he was there until he appeared when Mom upstaged Merryweather, but there aren’t too many rooms a guest could keep their presence secret. It’s a secluded place in a hidden part of the house, where stonework trees stand like a forest. Their leaves are amber and emerald. I climbed the walls and snuck through the marble aspen trunks to the roof, and looked down through a ceiling full of small windows. Hyrthon is walking in loops around the table below me, getting angrier every time, until someone speaks.

“Relax your anger,” she says, and Hyrthon looks up confused. I didn’t notice her at all, and he doesn’t look like he knew she was there. For a moment he flushes.

“Don’t be upset,” she says again. “He wanted a reaction out of you. You are reacting.”

She’s tall and dark, though of skin or because she’s wrapped in shadow I don’t know. She has black hair that falls thick and shiny down her back, one liquid wave of it with a single reflection where the light hits. Her dress is dark in layers, an outer shear gown, straps inside that over her shoulders and around her torso connected by something like netting, and darker material over her bust and hips. She seems like she’s almost exposed, but I tried to sketch her and couldn’t see quite enough outlines to start anywhere.

The dark lady does not smile. Hyrthon reacts angrily.

“Don’t be upset? You promised me a kingdom if I took Fallor’s Castle, because it was you he insulted! Look what that got me! I’m insulted, and Aethionema-”

She interrupts. “Will give you everything when you take her to your bed.”

Hyrthon stumbles in his words and looks at her.

“She is weak and vain. Already her son is forgotten to her. The mortal reminded her, yes, but she thinks of nothing but herself and her stature. I promised you a kingdom if you took Fallor’s Castle, and you didn’t. However, do not question me. Know your place.”

Hyrthon looks like she poisoned him. He swallows and grimaces.

“Good,” she continues. “Fallor came to his destruction. I intended to give you his keep and kingdom, but more so, I intended him to die. He did. You tried to do my bidding, and I appreciate you. I have given you a rich heiress who is mad with lust for your rank, your titles, and your name. Do not question me again.

“But, like against Fallor, you are failing me. You challenged a mortal to a duel, elevating him to your level. You showed neither wisdom or skill, and I am not convinced in your skill were you to engage him. They are gone now, and I do not think they will return.

“Listen carefully. You will ignore him. Tell the world he fled before you. Tell them his every word is a lie. There is nothing he can do to you. I will ensure that he vanishes as a mortal does. A few decades from now he will be gone, and his life will leave no trace more on the world than a pebble after it sinks into a pond.”

“And his insult to me? His threats to me?” Hyrthon huffs as he talks.

She sweeps air aside with the back of her hand. “They are the rage of a mortal against a god. He is nothing. I would have made you a great king if you’d taken Fallinor, but I will still help you. I tell you now, ignore the human. He is irrelevant. If you do my bidding, I will make you powerful and strong. I will exalt you among the ranks of the divine, and you will rest on silver clouds.

“Do nothing to the mortal, Hyrthon Dawnchild. Let him spend his years in a wagon. Take your pleasures with Aethionema. She is a fool and besotted with wine. Go to her, tell her you cannot leave her, and bury your hot blood. She will forget, and I will give you everything you need.”

The dark lady smiles. “Obey me.”

“Yes,” says Hyrthon, and he departs.

She is gone too.

I feel sick and nauseated. I wish I didn’t have to hear that, and instead of following Hyrthon, I go back to my room. I don’t want to know what else is going on in White Hoof.

#

It is hours later. I don’t know what to do or where to go. I feel like something big is happening and I should react, but I don’t know how. Instead I wander the house, the lawn, check the rock garden, and finally climb the roof again. I’ve got a knife and a pencil, and I’m drawing nothings on my paper when Hyrthon walks back into the room. He’s changed his clothes to a brown robe, and he paces.

For a long time he walks without saying or doing anything. He winds through tables and chairs. He forms orbits among the statues. His circles constrict to single, tight loops about a bucket of cleaning cloths and expand to wander the entire room. He goes up stairs and down, walking with his head down and watching the floor.

I find watching him restful, but he isn’t rested in the walking. He’s working himself up again but very, very slowly. At first he walks with his hips, almost leaning back at the shoulders, but time and loops about the room continue until he’s leaned forward. His hands curl into fists. His jaw clenches. His circles constrict again to a tight, fast path around a couch. Finally he stops with his fists on the backrest.

“I am not convinced of your skill were you to engage him,” he says. I can hear the words perfectly.

“I am not convinced of your skill,” he repeats.

“Your skill,” he says.

“Were you to engage him.”

He’s talking to himself like there’s another person in the room.

“Do nothing to him.”

“Do nothing.”

“Go.”

He stares into nothing. His face is moving. There are expressions flickering across his skin so quickly I cannot read them. They settle into some quiet glare. He stares into a cold fireplace, and speaks a word of command. Cherry red flames leap from sandstone.

“Children of Olnedi, come to me,” he says.

The flames leap and bend. They reach from the fireplace and arch over the floor, and dribble fires into pools on the polished stone. One by one, figures arise, and they are flickering and thin.

“Olnedes, listen to me. Go out and go wide through the Simhalls. Hurry above the cities. Be seen by all the mountain peoples. Then find Laeth, the mortal, and Merryweather, his lover. Kill them and be not secretive about it. But tell no one who sent you thus, and let everything you see or do tonight burn away with the coming dawn. Go and kill him.”

The flames bow to him, and they turn to the fireplace. One by one they leap up the chimney, and I see them racing skyward when they emerge. Above the house, they are but bits of cinder, floating upward. I look down, and Hyrthon has disappeared.

I search the house quickly, and I find him in the worst of all places. He has returned to my mother’s rooms.

When I go outside, red and yellow figures appear in the far sky. They are scarlet and orange, riding horses of white and blue. They run across the dark night,
outshining the stars, and over the cities they pause. Their flaming horses rear; they leave trails of sparks in the air. They come from all directions, heading south.

I am scared now, very scared, and I leave White Hoof as well. I run toward Merryweather’s wagon.

I flipped to the back of the folder and paged through the index. A citation linked this page with a name: Arya, the Goddess of Twisted Ways, Lady the Labyrinthe. She was one of the ancient ones, a goddess from before the first rising of the Sun.

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Twilight in Heaven: Chapter 32

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Chapter 32

Perhaps it’s the energy drink, because I suddenly felt nervous. My skin itched and something like bug-feet crawled on my neck. When I brushed them away, there was nothing there.

I had been wearing one of those flappy formal dresses, but I have a super power. I can change from a formal dress into anything else faster than any other dryad alive. Dropping my foliage, I call it, except instead of winding up naked, I wear pants.

If you don’t mind me getting a little more personal, it’s impossible to keep a sword under your skirts. For some reason boys tend to think we can hide long swords, battleaxes, or crossbows under a dress. I can’t. If I have to move around at all, stand up and sit down, or any of that, a sword just won’t fit. I may have tried for a summer or so and other than bruising my ankles and feet, gained nothing from the process.

But wishing I had a sword, I left the reception, changed, and chased Merryweather. I snuck up on them as they got to their wagon. The kid kept trying to walk, but he couldn’t walk too quickly. Laeth finally carried him most of the way but at the wagon door put him down to play. Merryweather and Laeth didn’t say much along the way, and now they’re looking at each other like, ‘How do we start this conversation?’ I’m hiding behind some rocks.

Back to taking live notes.

“Well,” says Laeth.

“Yeah,” says Merryweather.

They stand still for another long minute.

“Kog was good,” says Laeth.

“He was. He didn’t fuss at all.”

“So what do you want to do?” asks Laeth.

Merryweather doesn’t say anything. She’s watching the peaks, the groves of aspen, and Mom’s little white and pink flowers that grow wild. For a while she looks in one direction, and I try to follow her gaze. I don’t see anything. I don’t think Merryweather is looking at anything.

“Do you want to just leave?” asks Laeth. “We dump your brother and go? He’s home. My duty’s done. Your mother recognized our marriage, and I know how much that means to you.”

“You challenged Hyrthon to a duel.”

“Technically, he challenged me.”

“Laeth,” she says.

“Fine. But I don’t think he’ll pursue it. What does he have to gain? If he wins, he killed a mortal, and if I even injure him, he’ll be humiliated. And stabbed. He’s not very good in close quarters. Your mother wants us to go. Hyrthon won’t argue if we do. Do you want to just leave?”

“And go where?”

“The world. We’ve got the wagon. We’ll travel lighter without the coffin.”

“Can you do that? Leave a duel?”

“Sure. If Hyrthon wants to find me, he can. Blisters on him. He’ll tell everyone I ran away, but I wasn’t going to win friends here anyway.”

Merryweather stares again, and I look again. This time I see a marmot, but the marmot doesn’t look back.

She speaks hesitantly. “You know we’ll be leaving forever? My family’s not rich, but we do have a house, lands, people. It would be a place for Kog to grow up. If we leave, we’re turning our backs on them.”

Laeth takes her hands. “Yes. I know. It would just be us: you, me, the boy, other small, annoying people who might come along to break all my stuff and throw up in new and exciting places. Yes. Let’s just…go.”

“Okay,” she says as if it’s nothing.

“Good.”

They stare at each other. Laeth raises an eyebrow. Merryweather shrugs.

“Okay,” she says again.

“Good,” he says again, but after a pause adds, “We do have to drop your brother.”

“Oh, thank the Makers. Baby, we’ve been traveling with a coffin in the wagon for three years! Let’s drop him right now.”

“Do we have to bury him or something?”

“No, I don’t see why. We should take him to a crest or peak, though.”

“Why?”

She looks at him. “Because he’s named Ridgecrest. If we’re going to put him somewhere, it should be on a ridge or crest.”

Laeth looks around. They’ve drawn up their wagon outside the house grounds, and spires of the Simhalls reach up around us. A narrow valley to the north leads home, but here two river valleys meet and split. The pine forests are dark going north, but south, the valleys are wide and the grass is gold. The peaks around us are tall and stark.

“Can we pick a low one?” asks Laeth.

“No, let’s pick a tall one. He’d like it.” She pats Laeth on the arm. “Don’t worry. I’ll carry the casket. You mind Kog.”

“Oh.” Laeth stares at her as if he forgot something. “Yes.”

She smirks, and I see a hint of old Merryweather. She’s a daughter of Aethionema, of Lumina’s bloodline. For an instant I get Laeth. He sees her as his wife. He takes care of her, she him, and they’re probably in the middle of some long, married-couple fight about socks. Merryweather used to be whiny when she got annoyed, and I bet she still is. But she’s a daughter of Celestials and a dryad. She could lift that wagon and carry it into the high places herself if she wanted too. Laeth stares at her, pleased, amused, and above all happy.

And I get Merryweather finally. She’s my sister and born of the blood, but she never mattered to the family like she matters to him. She matters as a member of the family, not too the family. So she’s leaving.

He starts doing something with straps and bolts on the side of the wagon. It’s a big, boxy thing, and their two elk are grazing nearby. She grabs Kog, who seems to be trying to lick rocks. I could stay and watch, but I feel like I should leave. They’re deciding to leave us, me, and that hurts a little.

I understand, but I’m sad. I only understand my sister now that she’s leaving.

Quiet as mist flowing across the ground, I head back into the forest and go home.

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Twilight in Heaven: Chapter 31

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Chapter 31

I found an energy drink in my desk, six months past its expiration date. It would probably give me leprosy.

Sickness take it, I thought and drank the energy drink.

I was not unmindful of the irony of my curse, but I kept reading.

My mother is going to find a way to make this entire event about herself.

She always does this. I think the only reason I have so many brothers and sisters is she wanted someone to boss around. Well, the joke’s on her because we’re leaving. Only Merryweather came back, and Mom caved when Merryweather threatened to leave again.

She married a mortal and had a kid.

That’s insane.

She probably thinks she’s being brave, but I don’t know. She did make Mom back down. Mom wants to play with the kid while he’s still young enough to be an accessory, and with three of the brothers off to the armies and the rest of us moving toward the exits, she announced she’d recognize Merryweather’s marriage to keep her from leaving.

There’s some issue with names as well. Apparently mortals give each other their names when they get married. Merryweather is going to become Merryweather Tim.

I’ll find out tonight. I’ll take notes, but I don’t know what I’ll say other than, ‘And then Mom made everything about her again.’

#

Here we are.

I’m taking notes as the reception happens. We just finished dinner, which was tense but pleasant. Merryweather’s husband, Laeth, attended, and I got to meet him. He only has one hand, but I didn’t ask about that in case it’s rude. I never know with mortals. He said his family is of the line of Tenmen, but I couldn’t ask who that is either. A few generations back they’re all forbidden traitors. We talked about the weather.

I met the baby too. He was cute enough, I guess. I wouldn’t risk throwing away the family heritage for either of them. Sometimes Merryweather is a bit dramatic.

She’s well. Merryweather was always more pretty than beautiful, but she has a lovely smile. She smiles a lot more now. She always used to smirk too much. She spent most of dinner keeping the baby upright, because that kid wants to fall off things. But she enjoyed it, and Laeth sat by her side, and I guess I could see why she’d be fond of them.

We moved to the Aeschites Hall, and it smells of dust. Mom has taken the dais, the new family is standing in front of her with their backs to the rest of us, and we’re spread out through the tables. I’m pretending to draw, but no one’s paying attention to me anyway. The hall is made of blocks piled up to look like grandfather Painter grew it out of stone, but Mom doesn’t have the gift. It’s a dark old room with stone trees that hold the balconies, and the sunlight is filtered by glass leaves. Mom’s wearing a black and green evening dress, and Merryweather’s in an old dancing gown. The man’s wearing a shirt and pants of leather strips on linen.

“My dearest, my kith and kin, I adore you all,” Mom says. “You are here today to witness me blessing this union between our daughter, Merryweather, and this man, Laeth. She is one of our children, a blessed child of Lumina. She carries the blood of Argus the Painter, who crafted these mountains. He moved stone like clay, and lives in glory among the stars in a hall like this one Aeschites. All of us are blessed of Divine, and we carry the Titans’s glory. She’s marrying him.

“And if our station has fallen enough that one of our beloved children finds herself with a mortal, by our blessing we can elevate it to more than whatever he brings, so that their marriage is worthy of Merryweather. He’s the best that she can do. But we rejoice that she has found a husband at all, and so let the marriage of Merryweather and Laeth be blessed! Their son is of our house now. His name is Klog something.”

And somehow, Laeth is smiling. He looks like he’s struggling to hold back laughter.

“I am delighted to meet you all, and delighted that you’re so happy to see me!” he says.

I guess he doesn’t realize he’s being insulted.

Merryweather realizes. She looks like Diadred made flesh. I think she wants to murder people.

“Overjoyed,” says Mother. “We will tolerate your human custom of giving names, so family of Lumina, look upon Merryweather Tim!”

Merryweather is about to say something, when Laeth takes her arm, spins her around, and smiles broadly to everyone. She looks sick, but he’s grinning like a fool and kisses her. The boy is chewing on his fingers. The family applauds. Merryweather looks somewhat less enraged and more annoyed, but turns to the family and smiles.

“And now that we’re done talking about them!” Mom interrupts the applause, which have mostly stopped anyway. “Pay attention to more important news. Not all of us have lowered ourselves to mortals! I am delighted to announce I am affianced to a god of the Westhrom Realm, a great magician and warrior, one who is worthy of our station. I am–”

Merryweather has turned back to Mom like a sunflower turns to face the sun. She is mad with rage. Laeth is whispering in her ear very quickly, but I don’t think she hears him.

I missed a bit of Mom’s speech. “–to introduce my own, divine fiancé, Hyrthon the Dawnchild!”

And out he comes.

He’s wearing mail of silver rings, and his boots and cloak are scarlet. He has nice hair, slicked back and neat. I haven’t seen him since he came looking for volunteers to join his legion, and Ridgecrest went with him. I suppose that’s how he met Mom.

He comes out and puts an arm around Mom, and she beams. They snuggle up against each other on the dais, above and behind Merryweather and Laeth. Green windows in the shape of leaves cast sunlight on them, and perhaps by some trickery or maybe just good timing, the light dims on the Tims and brightens on Mom. Everyone applauds again, but louder.

Laeth has stopped whispering. He seems frozen. While the family applauds, he stares up at Mother and Hyrthon without speaking, an arm still around Merryweather. She’s trying to eye-murder Mom too but stops when she notices he went quiet. Her eyes flick from him to the dais and back, and I can read her lips.

Merryweather whispers, “Oh, baby, no. No, baby, no.”

“My dearest mother in law!” announces Laeth, louder than the cheers. Mom startles, like she’s just spotted a new bug. People are looking at him instead of her. “Delighted to meet your new fiancé! May I say a word?”

“Of course not,” she replies.

“Thank you.” He winks at her. “Hyrthon, we meet again! I marched with you at Fallinor and rejoice to see you alive! Reverend Mother Aethionema, I was there with Ridgecrest when he died in Hyrthon’s army, and I have come to bury him.”

Hyrthon looked first annoyed, then disturbed, but suddenly unwell. Mom hates being called Reverend Mother. It makes her feel old. She looked like she’d tasted poison when Laeth called her that, but he spoke the black magic name. She’s silent now.

“The assault on Fallinor’s Castle was a fiasco,” Laeth says. “We built no siege engines, no towers, no ladders. Hyrthon sent a squad out-of-uniform to take the gatehouse while we hid in the woods. They were to light a fire in the windows, and we would take the open gatehouse. I was in those woods, and Ridgecrest with me. We wagered everything on surprise.

“We had bad luck. When the commandos attacked, Fallor’s swordsman Hwang Twostones was in the gatehouse, and he held the door. No one could get in, he couldn’t get out, and for two hours he held the gate. Finally, a body fell down the stairs, and the alarms rang.

“You remember that, don’t you Hyrthon? You waited back among the trees with us instead of going ahead.

“But when the alarms rang and the plan failed, you ordered us to attack. And we went. But the gate was closed, and they met us with arrows. We were defeated, captured, and somehow, you escaped.

“Reverend Mother Aethionema, I was taken prisoner with your son Ridgecrest after Hyrthon escaped. Let me tell you how he died.”

And Laeth tells a horrible story as Mom falls to the ground. Only Hyrthon remains standing. When Laeth is finished, the Dawnchild speaks.

“You, mortal, are a damned liar,” says Hyrthon.

“You’re a coward and traitor to your men,” answers Laeth.

“Fight me.”

“I accept.”

“Mortal, silence your worthless noise!” shouts Mom, and she hasn’t even gotten up yet. “You won’t duel anyone above your station–”

“Mom, you whore!” yells Merryweather. “He killed Ridgecrest! His cowardice killed my brother.”

Mother scrambles back, fighting with her dress get away. She looks for a moment uncertain, even uncomfortable.

“He didn’t say that,” she says, pointing at Laeth.

“This fool’s cowardice killed your son,” says Laeth.

Mom looks stricken, and for once, I don’t think she’s faking. She doesn’t cry, and Mom always cries when she wants attention. She goes down on her elbows and stares at the ground.

“This is irrelevant,” says Hyrthon. He turns to Laeth. “You’re both lying and wrong.

“The campaign at Fallinor turned into stalemate. We couldn’t get in, and they couldn’t get out. The walls of the keep are strong and thick, and even now, Thorophus has just begun his work. We had no cannon. I challenged Fallor, either alone or with champions, and he refused. We assaulted them for two years, and they spoke such blasphemies in their defense that the city was cursed. I decided to break the siege.

“During all this, Ridgecrest was with me. He had always been there, wherever the fighting was hottest. When we probed the walls, he was the first in line. When we tried to gain access through secret ways, he went in front. He made his name and honor a dozen times.

“But in the end, it was Fallor’s vanity that turned us away, because he spoke unforgivable things. Mallens he blasphemed, and Mallens does not forgive. At a final meeting, your son was there–” he turns away from Laeth to address Aethionema “—we realized that even if we won, we could never hold Fallinor’s Castle. Eventually word would get reach the Lord of Creation’s ears and bring down ruin. So it was we left.

“I’m here in part to tell you what became of your son. Though undefeated, we hadn’t come to victory, and Ridgecrest is at times… impatient. He’s made a name for himself with me, but he is also ambitious. I have contacts in the southern lands of Tuerte, and I sent him down as my emissary. It is a dangerous mission, and I fear for his safety. But he has a stout heart, and I have great hope for him.”

Aethionema looks up at him, and there’s a hunger in her eyes but also doubt. She looks to Laeth.

For a long time the mortal thinks. Finally he answers, “Ridgecrest is dead. I brought his body back to bury him with his family. He rests in my wagon.”
Mom says, “Both of you be silent,” and she stares at the ground. That’s a bold thing to say to Hyrthon who stands higher than any of us, but this is her hall. I can see him thinking, but he holds his peace. Laeth does as well.

Mom slowly gets to her feet. She seems unsteady. Turning to Laeth, she says, “I do not believe you. Go to your wagon and get your proofs. Get…whatever you have.”
Laeth doesn’t react immediately. He looks at Merryweather. She nods. With that, he nods as well, bows to Mom, and they leave, taking the little one. Mom turns to Hyrthon, stares at him, and turns her back on him to walk away. She goes through the stone trees among the tables and leaves the light that falls through the window-leaves.

Hyrthon looks out at the family, and we’re all quiet for a moment.

Then Snowdrift asks, “Why doesn’t someone just go to Fallinor’s Castle and find out?”

Hyrthon says, “Because Mallens crushed them six months ago. The city is not there, and the mountains and valleys sink into the earth. I told you of their blasphemy.”

The family begins to fight, and Hyrthon sits down. Someone brings him some wine. There’s already shouting among the tables.

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