The Fallen Mender Read online

  Principality: Book THREE

  The Fallen

  Mender

  R. J. FRANCIS

  Copyright © 2018 R. J. Francis

  All rights reserved.

  DEDICATION

  To the fallen who have been redeemed.

  CONTENTS

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  CHAPTER FORTY

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

  CHAPTER ONE

  “Where are we now?” Jaimin asked. His grandmother, Princess Oria, was leading him by the hand down a wide corridor with an arched ceiling and book stacks on each wall.

  “A place dear to our people. In my day, we came here to find answers. One day you will find answers here too.”

  Jaimin had plenty of questions, but each one vanished like a wisp of smoke just as he tried to articulate it. And his senses were being fickle too. Sounds were neither near nor far. Some of what he saw receded into shadow as soon as he looked at it. This was nothing like the spirit world he remembered. But there were moments of clarity.

  He felt strongly that he was in the palace on the island of Celmarea, but he didn’t recognize this section of the complex.

  “Spirits know the future, don’t they?” he asked his grandmother. “Tell me what must be done to turn Radovan to our side. Can he be healed? Will he be healed?”

  “Once revealed,” she replied, “the future becomes like the past: it cannot be changed. Elaina knows what she must do to heal her father.”

  “I worry about her getting near Radovan. He can kill her in an instant.”

  “Don’t worry, my dear. I’ve seen your children, and they are many.”

  Many? he thought. Nobody had more than three children—most couples had, at most, two. He visualized himself with “many” brown-haired, brown-eyed beautiful children around him: girls, boys, all different ages, and all of them his. The image he had so easily conjured felt real, and beyond merely seeing these kids he sensed that he had a deep, powerful, and individual connection with each of them.

  Questions flooded into his mind, but when he tried to re-focus on his grandmother’s image to ask them, he felt himself falling away from her presence. Her loving smile and touch was fading. Instinctively, he knew that his thoughts had strayed too far. His soul was slipping back into the world of the living.

  And he let himself return.

  He fell straight backward from his cross-legged position. Elaina ran to him and caught him before his head hit the stone floor.

  “Take it easy,” she said. “Keep your eyes closed.”

  “So…dizzy…” Ultimate peace had encompassed Jaimin’s soul during his expedition to the spirit world. Now that he was back, his heart raced with stress chemicals.

  “Did it work?” Elaina said. “Did you recall your dream?” Earlier that day, Jaimin had had a dream that his intuition told him was incredibly important. Unfortunately, he couldn’t remember the details of the dream.

  “No, but my feeling was correct: someone was reaching out to me.”

  “Your grandmother?” Elaina could see into her fiancé’s mind more easily now. She could see the image of the woman Oria, with her kind face and grey- and brown-streaked hair. Jaimin opened his eyes, but the room was still spinning. “Take your time, Jem. This is new for you.” He heeded her advice, closed his eyes again, and tried to relax.

  “How long was I away?” he whispered.

  “Not too long.” Actually, she’d been waiting for him for over an hour in that attic lit only by her lamp. She’d grown uncomfortable sitting and had gotten up to survey the mothballed furnishings stacked up around the room.

  “I met her. Princess Oria,” Jaimin said. “She’s wonderful, but I’ll admit I couldn’t understand half of what she told me. She said you know how to heal your father.”

  “Well,” Elaina said, “I suppose I do. But I can’t promise our plan to get close to him is going to work.”

  Jaimin didn’t want Elaina to know about his grandmother’s prediction of “many children” until he had a chance to ponder it further. But just thinking about keeping the message a secret brought it straight to the surface of his wide-open mind, and Elaina immediately picked it up. She withdrew into herself, a bit happy, a bit shy. It would be her pleasure, of course, to bear as many children as she could, and the prospect of being a mother to more than the norm was exciting.

  “My grandmother may have more to say,” he said.

  “You’ve seen enough for now, I think,” Elaina replied. “We should go downstairs, once you’re able. We may be needed.”

  Jaimin opened his eyes again, and this time the room was reasonably stable. “Here we are again,” he said, and she knew precisely what he meant. Her knees were gently pressed against the top of his head, and she was looking at him upside down, exactly the way she had the night she’d rescued him as he fled from assassins.

  “This time I’m not going to wonder whether you’re a boy,” he teased. When Elaina had first met Jaimin, her dark brown hair had been quite short, but it had since tripled in length. She’d healed hundreds of wounded soldiers on the battlefield, and each time the healing light had surged through her body, her hair had grown. Now it blocked out the light as it draped around his face like a tent.

  “It’s our private space,” she said, “wherever we are.” She leaned over him and kissed him on the lips, upside down. His heart pounded. Hers did as well.

  She kissed his chin, and then crawled over him to kiss him on the bare skin of his upper chest, and then on his clothes, in a line, again and again she kissed him, all the way down the center of his body. Her hair, the folds of her dress, and the fragrance of her body teased Jaimin’s face.

  “I don’t feel the Areu tonight, do you?” Jaimin asked. “Not even a little bit.”

  “No,” she said.

  “Why not? We felt it just this afternoon. What does it mean?”

  “Not sure.” She got up to her feet and helped him stand. “Touch me, Jem,” she said. She closed her eyes and stood motionless.

  Jaimin gently and lovingly ran his fingers over Elaina’s dress, feeling her body beneath it. He felt her entire body to see where Areu—the force that sets limits for Celmareans—would stop him. Where it had stopped him before, it no longer did. He lingered in the places he thought for sure would be forbidden. They were not.

  To Elaina, Jaimin’s touch felt too good for the purposes of a mere test, and so she clamped her hand over his, stopping the exercise. “Maybe you were right. We’re t
o be joined now, without waiting any longer,” she said, breathless.

  “Damn this law,” he said.

  “It’s actually a law? I thought it was just a custom.”

  “Me too, until I asked my mother at dinner. It’s a law, binding on every Arran, that a couple must wait six months before marriage.”

  In her eyes, a glint of mischief… “What’s the penalty for breaking the law?”

  “Well, there’s no penalty. Not for the average subject, that is. But for the future king to break such a law would be disastrous.”

  “Would it really? I don’t believe your parents waited six months.”

  “They didn’t?” Jaimin had never done the calculations, but now that he thought about it, he realized that Elaina was right.

  Elaina took a deep, cleansing breath, and then started over to the dark corner where something had caught her attention earlier. She lifted a dusty canvas cover to reveal an old brass shield that looked more ceremonial than practical. “This room is where you and Nastasha used to play king and queen.”

  “She was never my queen,” Jaimin said. “That was never part of the game.”

  “It’s okay with me if she was, Jem.” Elaina was paying just as close attention to Jaimin’s feelings as she was to an ornately carved headboard. “I like it up here,” she said.

  “It’s quiet,” he said.

  “I don’t see it that way,” she said. “These objects are screaming with stories. The love that went into making them. The joy they saw when they were downstairs.” She floated her hand along the carved design. “Aren’t we lucky to have grown up in such a healthy and prosperous land?”

  Jaimin had always regarded the furnishings in the castle’s attic as toys at best. He had no idea how much meaning was packed away up here, but he welcomed the new notion. More and more, Prince Jaimin was showing that he was willing to listen—willing to try out new ways of seeing the world. And that’s just one of the reasons Princess Elaina of Celmarea was so deeply in love with him.

  Within Arra’s castle, the army’s presence was helping to bring back a feeling of security. But with so few from the royal court surviving, to those who had returned the halls and courtyards now felt desolate.

  Outside the castle compound, from one end of the scarred kingdom to the other, the allied Audician and Arran armies, having liberated Arra from the grip of the Destaurians just the night before, were still recovering, regrouping, and processing their prisoners.

  Meanwhile, Arran royal guards were busy preparing the horses and gear for Elaina’s critical mission to rescue her pregnant sister, Eleonora, from an enemy detention cell somewhere in the Destaurian desert.

  In the city’s open spaces, the Arran subjects continued their victory celebrations. Ale flowed, fueling the jubilation and tempering the sting for the many who had lost friends and loved ones. Soldiers, bruised and bandaged, were each given a few hours of leave to rejoin their families before returning to duty.

  But a girl due to arrive within the hour had news that would shut the taps and put an end to the festivities.

  Elaina and Jaimin sensed their time alone was over. They would need to head downstairs.

  CHAPTER TWO

  When Elaina and Jaimin arrived in the Hall of the Fathers, the other royals were already seated around the ancient oaken table. Servants had brought in ample fresh water and enough wheatberry cakes and spreads to keep the leaders going, however long their evening meeting might take.

  Queen Alethea of Arra conversed with her sister, Princess Alessa of Celmarea. On the other side of the queen, Jaimin’s baby sister, five-year-old Princess Tori, was dolled up in a lace-trimmed gown of burgundy and brown. She was wide awake despite the late hour. General Valeriy was deeply engaged in a discussion with his daughter, Nastasha. Royal guards manned their stations in the shadows. Alethea caught Jaimin’s attention and directed him with her eyes toward the king’s chair at the head of the table.

  Jaimin wasn’t sure about sitting in his late father’s place. Not this soon.

  “Go on,” Elaina told him.

  A servant drew back the chair for him, and Jaimin reluctantly settled into it. He had never once sat here. It surprised him how cold the wood was; for some odd reason he’d assumed it would still be warm with the king’s presence. His fingers traced the carvings of the chair’s arms as he surveyed the hall from the unfamiliar angle. This is wrong, he thought. I’m not the king. Not yet.

  We need your help tonight, came the message from the mind of his mother, Alethea. Tonight, you will lead.

  Jaimin lifted the ornate gavel beside his right hand. Suddenly, a force from somewhere within him caused him to move the gavel over its tray and slam it down. The bam! resounded through the ancient hall. Jaimin’s heart raced. At once, all were silent. Jaimin was just entering the period of expanding intuition known as Kalmise. He supposed it was Kalmise that had possessed him to so abruptly call the meeting to order.

  Everyone was staring at him now, and he had no idea what was on the agenda. “Welcome, everyone,” he said, tentatively. “What’s the news? I thought we were meeting in the morning.”

  “I called for the assembly,” said Nastasha. At a mere seventeen years of age, Jaimin’s best friend Nastasha had been named royal advisor after proving her bravery and intellect in the early stages of the war.

  Now that she was back in the castle, Nastasha could once again dress to her customary extravagance. Tonight, she was in a cream-colored dress under rich robes of cerulean. Her exceedingly long blonde hair was pulled back in a simpler style than normal—and this, together with the puffiness of her face and her eyes looking desperate for more sleep, betrayed the demands of her new role.

  “A Destaurian girl,” Nastasha began, “perhaps twelve or thirteen, approached a patrol near Fern Rock this evening. She claims to represent the resistance movement in Destauria, and she says she brings information vital to our success. She’s being brought here.”

  “General, do we know anything about a resistance movement in Destauria?” Jaimin asked.

  “No,” replied General Valeriy, stroking his golden beard. “But in wartime it wouldn’t be unusual for dissidents to come forward.”

  “What else did the girl say?” Jaimin asked Nastasha.

  “She refused to say anything more to our officers. She asked to speak directly with you, Jaimin.”

  “Sounds like a trap,” young Tori said. “Is she a mind-turner?”

  “There’s no way to know for sure, but I share your concern,” Nastasha replied.

  “She could be a spy,” Alessa suggested.

  “Possibly,” Nastasha replied. “Surely your council can divine her motives.” She meant the Celmarean princess council, represented there by Alethea, Alessa, Elaina and Tori. Alethea, Queen of Arra, also held the title of Princess of Celmarea.

  Alethea said: “When Jaimin sees this rebel for himself, he will decide whether she is trustworthy. Alessa?”

  “Let her see us,” Alessa said. “Elaina, what do you say?”

  “We must speak with her,” said Elaina. “I feel she’s going to be important to our plan.”

  “Your Excellency,” Tori said to Nastasha, “we recommend to let this girl in.”

  Nastasha then turned to Jaimin, who, by virtue of his chair, had the final say. “I’ll see this girl,” he said. “But Elaina stays hidden until we’re sure there’s no threat.”

  Ten minutes later, the dissident girl was escorted into the Hall of the Fathers by four soldiers. They unshackled her wrists and she immediately dropped into a curtsey. She was a younger teen, in white leather armor, wearing a white cloak streaked brown with dirt from her travels. Her face was round, her skin milky, her dark eyes big and sincere. Her shiny, chocolate brown hair flowed into her fur-lined hood.

  “Your Royal Highness,” she said to Jaimin, “thank you for receiving me. My name’s Maya, envoy of the Shadow Children.”

  “The Shadow Children?” Jaimin asked.

/>   “Patriots of Destauria,” she said. “Truth-keepers.”

  Jaimin, putting on a stern air, pushed back his chair, arose, and approached the girl. Like a soldier at inspection, the petite Destaurian rebel stayed motionless as Jaimin circled her, examining her, waiting for his nascent intuition to reveal something certain about her intentions. The response was quick: tell her everything.

  Since Jaimin had never received such unambiguous direction from within, he doubted it immediately. With his hands clasped nervously behind his back, he stared into Maya’s glossy eyes. They welcomed him in. She stayed composed, imperturbable.

  “How old are you?” he asked her.

  “Fourteen,” she replied.

  “Where do you come from?”

  “From Destauria, Your Highness.”

  “Have you come to kill me?”

  “Oh, no, Your Highness. I’m here to help you. To share urgent news.”

  “First, answer me this, Maya: Is King Radovan your enemy?”

  “No.”

  At this, Arran royal guards unsheathed their swords. The supernaturally honed blades glowed in the shadows.

  Maya didn’t flinch—clearly this girl valued her mission over her own life. “King Radovan is a good man,” she told Jaimin. “His decision to send his army against Arra was not his own.”

  “Whose decision was it?” asked Alethea. Alethea and the others already knew that Elaina’s father, King Radovan of Destauria, was under the control and influence of another entity: someone called “the tutor.”

  “Dunno,” Maya responded. “But someone controls our king. Steers his mind. And through Radovan they also direct the purple army.”

  Jaimin felt a pain in his gut when the girl mentioned the mysterious military force: the purple army. Elaina’s twin sister, Eleonora, who had grown up in Radovan’s care, had spoken of a purple army: raiders in purple-trimmed uniforms who descended on Destaurian neighborhoods and villages by night, kidnapping and killing. Radovan had his subjects believing the purple warriors were Arrans.

  Jaimin was also convinced he’d had a personal encounter with the purple army. Twin girls, assassins, had attacked him in the forest a few weeks back. He’d killed one, and… Suddenly, he recalled his dream from earlier in the day! In his dream, a purple army assassin had visited him, and warned of other assassins on the way.