The Fallen (Book 1) (61 page)

‘Where’s Dale?’ said Kelian, noticing the Baron was missing from the sea of faces.

‘He was helping clean out the old stables near the city gates,’ General Marnol replied. ‘With a bit of work it will be good enough housing, for the time being.’ There was the sound of footsteps approaching and seconds later Dale stood in the doorway. He was covered from head to toe in filthy mud, and he wore a look of resignation.

‘Oh, for goodness sake Dale! Not again!’ cried Eibhear crossly. ‘Surely you didn’t get Nailmarni blood on you again! Why didn’t you call one of us to help you?’

Dale’s face seemed to crumble. ‘There were children there Eibhear,’ he said and his voice was barely a whisper. ‘They were
playing around the stable and one of them accidently dislodged a beam. The Nailmarni must have died hiding in the roof, and when it fell, one of the children was pinned under a whole lot of wood and the dead body dropped on top of her. I couldn’t wait for anyone! I dragged the body away and it kind of ripped open and splattered...urgh!’ Dale rushed across the room and managed to get his face through the window before he vomited violently. The guardians had moved through the ruined city before the citizens returned, removing as many of the bodies of the Nailmarni as possible, but several more had been discovered as the wreckage was removed from key areas.

‘And the child?’ said Kelian anxiously, rising to his feet.

‘The child is fine,’ Dale managed to gasp, before vomiting again. ‘Jemia didn’t get any blood on her from the creature. She’ll be fine.’ Dale wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and smeared more mud across his face.

‘Dale, why don’t you bathe before you lose consciousness,’ Eibhear suggested. ‘I know who’ll get stuck with the job of shoving pelgavik into you to keep you alive, and it’s bad enough dealing with the fact that you are ungrateful and bad mannered, without being so filthy and stinking of vomit that you’re practically unapproachable. At least you can be clean if I have to spend the next week feeding and watering you!’

‘Thank you Eibhear,’ said Dale gratefully, seeing right through Eibhear’s sarcasm.

‘At least this time you won’t have to sleep on bare rocks,’ said Danil encouragingly. ‘Where’s our physician? Do we have any pelgavik?’ he asked, referring to the herb used to treat illness caused by exposure to Nailmarni blood.

‘He was killed in the first attack at the Dwellings,’ said Dale sadly.

‘I’ve got pelgavik in my pack,’ said Captain Gilgarry. ‘Remember we collected it before we went to the Dwellings, and we didn’t use all of it. I don’t suppose it matters if it’s completely dried out?’

‘It shouldn’t make any difference,’ said Eibhear. ‘Bring it to me.’

Dale leaned against the wall and slid down until he was sitting on the floor. Already he was finding it almost impossible to keep his eyes open.

‘Bath! Now!’ Kelian ordered, and Dale opened his eyes with difficulty. He clambered to his feet, stood poised for a second, then crashed face first to the floor.

‘Now what do we do with him?’ said Eibhear in dismay. ‘He stinks like he fell into the dunnigin!’

Callian knelt beside Dale and placed his hand on the Baron’s forehead.

‘Dale?’

‘Bi ciuin.’
Dale opened his eyes and stared up at Callian. He clutched at his pounding head.
‘Ta tinneas cinn orm.’

‘You’ll have more than just a headache if we don’t get some Pelgavik into you right now,’ Callian muttered.
‘I can make him stay awake long enough for him to bathe himself, if he’s quick,’ said Callian.

‘Bathe?’ said Dale looking confused.

‘That’s where you clean yourself in a tub of water. I don’t know that you’ve ever taken one before,’ said Eibhear sarcastically, though he looked relieved.

‘I know what bathing is, idiot!’ Dale mumbled dragging himself to his feet.
‘Supreme Majesty! I just hope I can stay awake long enough that I don’t drown in there!’

Eibhear studied Dale’s thoughts for a moment and was suddenly serious. ‘I’ll wait outside the bathing room, Dale, and if I can’t hear your thoughts I’ll come in and drag you out of the water.’

‘Thank you,’ said Dale, stumbling towards the door. As it turned out, he managed to stay conscious long enough to bathe, dress in his night shirt and eat a good quantity of pelgavik before he finally succumbed to unconsciousness. Eibhear picked him up easily, carried him to his room and dropped him on his bed. ‘Sleep well,’ he muttered. ‘And if you can hear me, Dale, you can stop worrying. I’ll probably keep you alive even though I think you’re the most bizarre human I’ve ever met, and probably the clumsiest. And definitely the most accident prone,’ Eibhear finished, raising his voice slightly as he saw Dale’s eyelids flicker slightly. ‘As I said, sleep well. I’m off to gather some noxious weeds.’ He chuckled wickedly as Dale squirmed slightly, then dragged a light cover over Dale’s body and opened the window to let in a breeze. His face turned serious and he sighed sadly. There was a larger possibility that Dale would not survive this time.

Chapter 4

Hunted

Kalinya woke to find himself surrounded by complete chaos. He gave a cry of surprise when he saw the cart was on fire. He leapt from the cart and landed on Kindalin who was lying face down on the ground, with blood covering the back of his crushed skull and his arm severed at the shoulder. There was a crunching sound as Kalinya’s ankle wrenched sideways and he crumpled to an agonized heap. He rolled away from the body, crying in pain. A cacophony of shouting rang out around him, and without thinking he crawled frantically towards the long grass at the side of the road.  He could see the bodies of three more of Kindalin’s team. They were all dead. He clutched his ankle as he peered back through the long grass towards the cart. Men worked feverishly to unload the cart as it burned but these were not men Kalinya recognized.

‘Did you get everyone?’ asked a pale faced man.

‘Do you see anyone alive?’ a fair haired man replied obnoxiously.

‘Calm down. No need to announce your stupidity to everyone. I was told to be thorough and to clear out
everything
.’

‘Is this thorough enough for you?’ The fair haired man pressed one side of his nose and snorted snot onto the ground. ‘Do we really need to try to save all this rubbish?’ He gestured to the merchandise.

‘We were just paid to kill everyone on the cart and make it look like they were attacked by thieves. You were supposed to steal the merchandise
before
you set fire to the cart. But I think it’s enough. Let’s go.’

Kalinya lay without moving until he was sure he was alone, and then he sat up, wondering where he was. They had passed several cities and many small towns and he hoped the lights he could see in
the distance were from the city of Orapba. His mother had spoken to him of Orapba, and he struggled to recall what she has said, but all he could remember was that it was a medium sized city with too many people crammed into too small a space. He tried to stand up and found that though his ankle pained terribly he could limp along if he moved slowly. The cart was still burning, but not as fiercely as Kalinya had expected it might, so he staggered as close as he could without being burnt. He could see now why the cart was not burning well. The huge water barrel Kindalin had stowed near the front of the cart was smashed and water had rushed in every direction, wetting the cart and a lot of the merchandise. Kalinya knew that this was both good and bad. Good because food and supplies would be less likely to burn and he would need all he could to get to Orapba, and bad because now he had no water. He limped back to the side of the road and sat in the long grass. Then he lay down. When he awoke the first thing he thought of was water. His throat felt dry from the smoke and the heat. To his surprise and disappointment, there was very little of the cart which hadn’t burnt, but he picked up a long stick and began to sift through the remains. A small portion of the water barrel remained intact and in the bottom there was a few inches of incredibly dirty, ash covered water. He did his best to scrape away the debris then he scooped out handful after handful of dirty water and drank thirstily until he was bursting. The lights of Orapba twinkled in the distance and Kalinya wondered how far it was and how long it would take to walk there. He sighed, knowing there was no point in waiting. He had been asleep when Kindalin’s cart was attacked, and now he was in fear of anyone who might come along the road, so he decided to walk adjacent to the road rather than on the wheel ruts. He gathered up the items he had salvaged from the burnt cart; a blunt knife, which had been jammed under the old water barrel to hold it level, two apples which had fallen into the barrel, and a small metal box with a hinged lid, which Kalinya felt was probably useless, but he decided to keep it anyway. Until this point he had avoided looking at the bodies of Kindalin and the other men from the cart. Now he approached Kindalin, wondering if he should try to do something with the bodies. He attempted to drag Kindalin from the road and found he couldn’t move the large body at all. His hand brushed against the leather satchel that Kindalin wore tied around his waist. That it had been missed by the attackers was proof enough that theft was not the true motive for the attack. He quickly unbuckled the pouch and managed to free the leather strap. It was surprisingly heavy and it slipped from his fingers and fell onto the dusty road. Kalinya undid the draw cord and opened the satchel. It was filled with coins, mostly silver, but some gold and a few coppers. He placed it thoughtfully beside Kindalin before picking it up once again.

‘Can I take your coins, Kindalin?’ he murmured, looking sadly at the dead body. ‘You’ll not need them and I’m sure the first person who comes this way will take them anyway. Please forgive me.’ He felt guilty as he strapped the satchel around his waist. He placed the two apples and the little metal box on top of the money. He stood up and moved to each of the other bodies, checking for anything that might help him survive. He came away with two well-worn but reasonably good cloaks; several travel cakes, a well-fitting hat and two undamaged water bags. He chose the larger of the two water bags, which was almost full and he fastened it to the strap of Kindalin’s money satchel, then he slipped the knife in with the money, leaving the handle sticking out at his hip, and drawing the cord to close the pouch which now felt uncomfortably heavy. He pushed the travel cakes into the inside pocket of his vest and fastened one cloak around his shoulders knowing it would prevent his skin burning in the heat of the day. With a final, brief glance around, he turned and limped towards Orapba.

It wasn’t long before his ankle began to hurt so badly he had tears running down his face. He took the second cloak and tore it into strips, and then he firmly bound his ankle. When he stood up, he was pleased to find the pain was lessened, but the uneven ground made it almost impossible for him to move at any pace, so he reluctantly returned to the dusty road. As he walked he took the time to try to guess how far he was from Orapba and how many days it would take for him to walk there. He decided that at his current pace, and with his painful ankle, he might reach there in two or three days. ‘Not too much water,’ he said to himself. ‘I will eat one apple and one travel cake each day, and if I get to Orapba on the third day I can buy food.’ By nightfall he was glad to have the large cloak as the night was quite cool. There was no effective shelter nearby and as darkness fell Kalinya began to feel exceedingly tired. He walked just far enough into the bushes that he was hidden from the road. After a quick survey of the area, he untied Kindalin’s satchel and removed his cloak and placed them at the base of a small honey tree. He unwound the strips of cloth from his ankle and placed them beside the satchel. The huge amount of water he drank earlier could not be ignored, so he moved further into the bushes and relieved his bladder. He was hungry when he returned to the honey tree, but he ignored the discomfort, wrapped himself in the cloak and lay down on the ground dragging one corner of the cloak under his head for comfort. He was asleep in minutes.

The heat of the sun woke him the next morning. He sat up and gazed around, pulling his arms from within the cloak. The deep pink flowers on the honey tree were now smothered with small black bees that were causing a loud collective humming. Kalinya ignored the bees and reached under the tree to collect his satchel and the torn up cloak. He bandaged his ankle once again and belted the satchel around his waist, and then he swung the cloak around his shoulders and made his way back towards the road. He nibbled at half of a
travel cake as he walked and took a very occasional sip from his water bag, and the day passed slowly. Not a few times he hurried from the road when he heard people approaching and he hid in the bush land until they had passed.

On the third day of his journey disaster struck. He was only about a mile from Orapba when he saw someone approaching from the opposite direction. He hesitated, wondering if the person had already seen him, then he decided to hide in the bushes. He dashed from the road and into the trees wishing the undergrowth was thicker and that there was somewhere better for him to hide. At the last moment he shimmied up a handy tree and hoped, if the traveler was not friendly, they would not leave the road, or if they did, that they would not look upwards. Luck was not with Kalinya. The man left the road where Kalinya had and moved in the boy’s exact direction. He was wearing black pants and a long black vest which laced together across his chest. There was very little sound from his black boots as he followed Kalinya’s obvious tracks. As he approached the tree, the man unshouldered a bow and drew a dark feathered arrow from the quiver at his hip. Kalinya gave a cry of fear and tried to climb higher into the tree. The man let an arrow fly, and it struck Kalinya hard in the shoulder. The boy was flung backwards and his head struck a branch heavily as he fell. As his body crashed onto the ground, the shaft of the arrow snapped, leaving the head embedded in his shoulder.

Kalinya awoke hours later. His hand went to his painful shoulder and he cried out in agony as he tried to sit up. His head felt dizzy and he lay back on the ground, staring up at the trees and wondering what he was to do now. He could tell without looking that the money satchel had been taken. The remaining pieces of travel cake were still in the pocket of his vest and this gave him a small surge of hope. He felt for the water bag and was disappointed to find that it was empty. It had burst open when he hit the ground and it would not be usable again. Once again he tried to sit up and fiery pain flashed through his body. Gasping in agony, he managed to roll onto his knees where he remained for some time before staggering to his feet. A disappointed looking wedge tailed eagle took flight from a nearby tree and disappeared into the glare of the sun. Kalinya’s knees wobbled uncontrollably and he retched from the pain of his wounded shoulder as he stumbled back to the road.

It was dark by the time he reached the outskirts of Orapba and he was tired beyond anything he had ever felt before. The sickness in his stomach had grown intense and he held his arm hard against his body, so as not to move his injured shoulder. He stared hopefully towards the soft light coming from the window of a hut close to the road, but even as he stared an indignant face appeared and a voice rebuked him crossly. He continued on, looking around desperately for somewhere he could sleep where he wouldn’t be seen and eventually he found a narrow gap between two partially ruined stone buildings. He lay on the hard dirt, sobbing from pain and exhaustion. Eventually fatigue overcame him and he fell into an uncomfortable sleep.