The Fallen Mender Read online

  It was the Dagger of Shen-Yan. The exquisitely crafted weapon had been a gift to the eleventh king of Arra by Shen-Yan, sovereign of the old Trystan Empire, as a token of goodwill, upon the signing of a pact between Arra and the Trystans.

  Nastasha knew all about this legendary blade—she had seen it in the Royal Museum. The dagger’s hilt was ebony wood, inlaid with spirals of pure gold. Its guard was a brilliant gold alloy, flecked with diamond glitter. The scabbard had a natural glow to it, catching and refracting every source of available light in the thousands of diamonds and yellow sapphires that coated its surface.

  The hilt felt light and perfect in her hand. She began to draw the scabbard off, and then stopped. The blade beneath had been altered—light acquired a blue tint as it bent around its edges. What have you done, Jaimin? she thought. You’ve sharpened it?

  “It’s meant to be used,” Jaimin said. “It shouldn’t be locked away.”

  “It’s never drawn blood,” she said.

  “I’m not so sure,” said Jaimin. “Let me show you something I discovered while working on the blade.” She handed it back to him. Jaimin knelt down, thrust the dagger into the hard-packed ground and firmly twisted the hilt ninety degrees. He then pushed down slightly on the butt of the hilt and let go. The hilt separated into two sections, their margins disguised by ornate carvings. Jaimin easily lifted off half of the hilt to reveal a small compartment housing a vial of black stone. He stood, carefully undoing the vial’s cap. Next, from the vial, he levitated six droplets of what appeared to be blood and held them in a vertical line in the air for the ladies to see. “I know how much you enjoy mysteries,” he told Nastasha. “Let me know what you find out.”

  Carefully, with his mind, he manipulated the liquid back into the vial, sealed it, and reassembled the weapon, presenting it again to Nastasha.

  She took hold of the dagger with trembling hands. The last time Jaimin had given her a blade for a gift, things did not go well. Still, she accepted it.

  The scout group had already set off, so the rest of them couldn’t tarry. Watnik walked by, with the queen’s falcons Sacreah and Termeah on his shoulders. The birds could find their way back to Arra’s castle from anywhere to deliver messages, if needed.

  Alethea, Tori and Nastasha bade the travelers farewell in the courtyard, and watched them ride out through the castle’s main gate.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  “It’s time I went to Eleonora,” Elaina told Jaimin, as soon as they were out of the city. “Her contractions are strengthening.” Jaimin, Elaina, and Maya journeyed in comfort in the four-in-hand coach driven by Makias, while the rest of the group rode horses.

  “Will I be able to wake you if we run into trouble?” Jaimin asked.

  “You should be able to.”

  “Go,” Jaimin said, before he had the chance to worry himself about all the potential risks. “I know you’ll be safe.”

  Maya watched in wonder as Elaina settled into the silver satin seat and slipped into the spirit world. Maya had the strong sense of Elaina being transformed somehow, although Elaina had only closed her eyes. “What’s she doin’?” Maya asked.

  “She’s entered the spirit world,” Jaimin explained. “She’ll visit Eleonora for a while. Help her through the labor.”

  “Spirit world?”

  “Destaurians know about the spirit world, don’t they?”

  “Well, yeah, but it isn’t a place you can just go.”

  “Mostly it’s Celmareans who can ‘just go.’ Right now, she’s using the spirit world as a way to travel far in an instant. She’ll become visible to Eleonora.”

  “Can she go anywhere? That would be handy in the war, y’know. Sneakin’ around all ghosty and reportin’ back.”

  “I don’t know what the limits are,” said Jaimin.

  Maya thought a bit. “Yeah. Could be real useful in the war, I expect.”

  Through a gap in the curtains Jaimin noticed that snow was falling. “You in love with Mascarin?” he asked.

  “Huh?” Maya’s eyebrows shot up.

  “Mascarin.”

  “Oh, my, well he’s so much older than I am…”

  “Is that a ‘yes’?”

  Maya grinned. “Yeah. I’m in love with him. Weird, huh?”

  “Of course it isn’t,” Jaimin assured her.

  “You won’t tell him?”

  “No. I promise.”

  “He took me in when I was nine,” Maya said. “He was fourteen then, but he was already fighting for the cause—him and his dad, who the Frakkers took. So…yeah. The Frakkers took my parents too, one summer night while I was away at camp. I was told when I got back. I didn’t want to go live with my aunt, who’s a bitch, and I’d heard about Mascarin’s group, so I joined up with him and hid out.”

  “So, do all of you live with Mascarin?” Jaimin asked.

  “Well, the runaways live in the basements of friendly merchants. Mascarin and a few of us lived at the tavern he inherited from his dad, until Radovan…burned it down.”

  Jaimin just kept listening with extreme interest. He thought it fascinating the way Maya would allow her dark eyes to wander in wistful recollection before snapping back to full eye contact with him, keeping him engaged in her story and in her as a person.

  “Mascarin’s never touched me, I assure you.”

  “I wasn’t thinking that at all.”

  “I just, you know, got older and got the feelings girls get, and I realized I had ‘em for Mascarin more than anyone else. That’s probably bad of me, but I can’t help it. It’s his fault he’s so handsome.”

  “Shame on him,” Jaimin said, jokingly.

  “Yeah, huh? Well, I’m just worried that since he’s so pretty the Frakkers are gonna draft him to be one of their breedies.”

  “I’m sure that won’t happen.”

  “Well, I’d like to think that too.”

  Jaimin and Maya got along terrifically, and they chatted while Elaina “slept.” Maya told Jaimin more about how her privileged childhood had been turned upside down by a Frakker raid. She described each of the Shadow Children, detailing what she admired about her comrades as well as their quirks. Every once in a while, she would wind up a topic with: “I can’t believe a prince cares to hear this,” and she would drift off in thought, but before long she had a new revelation or question for Jaimin.

  “Where do you think your parents are now?” Jaimin had to ask, only because he truly felt she wouldn’t be upset.

  “They’re either Frakkers or they’re dead. And you can’t trust a Frakker, no matter who they were. If I saw them, I’d have to assume they were going to kill me.”

  “So you would fight them?”

  “Yuhp. Kill them if I have to. Mascarin and I made a blood pact we wouldn’t let our feelings for our parents get us killed or captured.”

  “If only the Frakkers could be cured,” Jaimin said.

  “Oh, I’ve never seen that happen,” Maya said. “And I can’t imagine how it could. They’re cured when they die. My parents, if they died, I’m happy for them because they’re cured of whatever awful things were done to them.”

  Jaimin wondered whether even death would cure a purple army soldier, but he didn’t comment further.

  “So,” Maya asked him. “What are you like?”

  “What am I like?” Jaimin asked.

  “Well, I do wanna know what it’s like to be a prince, but I also know before you’re a prince you’re a person. So what’s this person Jaimin like? Give me five words that describe you.”

  “I guess you can say I’m devoted…curious, sporty,”

  Maya giggled.

  “What?” he asked.

  “Sporty? You take care of your body, huh? Yeah, you look like you take care of yourself. Okay, you have two more words. Maybe something you’re not quite happy with about yourself?”

  “I guess I can be passive when I should take charge instead, and I probably complain too much.”

  “B
ut yer workin’ on it, right?”

  “I am.”

  “For your princess, right?”

  “For everyone I love,” Jaimin said. “For me, too.”

  “So how did you and your princess meet?”

  He filled Maya in on how he ended up with Elaina. He recounted his first few weeks with Elaina, from the night she dragged his wounded body onto her farm and covered him with her cloak, to the night she retrieved his soul from the spirit world.

  Maya was fascinated by all of these tales, but her interest was especially piqued whenever Jaimin mentioned the spirit world. She seemed thrilled with the layers of adventure added to her worldview just by knowing a bit about the other world, and how it looked, felt and functioned.

  Jaimin was in the middle of a story when Elaina awoke suddenly and uttered: “It’s a girl.”

  Elaina had amazing news about Eleonora and her new child. Curiously, much of what she described to Jaimin and Maya had not actually happened yet, because Elaina had been in her sleep-like state for less than an hour, but she had actually visited her sister for ten.

  Eleonora had every reason to be anxious. Once her baby was born, there would be no way to keep him quiet, and whoever was on guard up top would know.

  Her cell stank from her husband’s rotting corpse, and from her own vomit—from those times the smell had become just too much. So far, she had managed to get up and make it to the farthest corners of the cell to throw up, and to keep her long hair out of it. But to bring a child into this detestable situation was merciless, she thought. Sure, she could breastfeed him—she had milk, but scraps of her dead husband’s clothes wouldn’t last very long as diapers. “I have to get out of here today,” she told Elaina, when she arrived in spirit.

  “I’m so sorry,” Elaina said, “I’m still a few days away.”

  “I can’t wait,” Eleonora sobbed. Another contraction began and she clenched her fists. “If I take my own life, there’s a chance they will spare my baby. Maybe they will feed him.”

  “Please, don’t speak like that,” Elaina said. “There has to be a way for you both to live.”

  “Can’t you smell this place?”

  “No,” Elaina said. “But I can feel what you smell. It’s cold, acid, and awful.”

  “Rggg. That hurts like…”

  “Maybe there’s a way for you to escape,” Elaina said. “If I help you.”

  “How?”

  “Well, I’m not sure yet, but once your baby is born, they’ll have to come down here, won’t they?”

  “What?” Another pang of pain had distracted Eleonora.

  “If it’s their plan to kill you or the baby, they’ll have to come down to get you.”

  “I guess, unless they shoot me from the top.”

  “Well, we won’t give them a clear shot. We’ll set a trap. When they come down, they will need to lower a rope, and you can subdue them and use the rope to get out. And then you can find a sheltered spot and wait for me.”

  “Again, how do you plan to pull off this miracle? Even if I do manage to knock out whoever comes down, how do you propose to get me past the rest of the guards up there?”

  “Need to think that through…”

  “I do see where you’re going with this. Can you stay?” Eleonora asked.

  “Yes.”

  Eleonora caught herself smiling.

  Elaina knelt down near her sister. “How do you know it’s a boy?”

  “Father looked inside and told me.”

  “What are you going to call him?”

  “Camron,” she said. “After his father.”

  Elaina and Eleonora grew much closer in the hours that followed, trading life stories in between the crippling contractions. They also discussed how they might sever Camron’s umbilical cord, how they would tie it, and what they would do with the placenta. Part of their plan required Eleonora to use her mending ability to extract some materials from her husband’s dead body, an act which she was absolutely appalled by, but which she did nonetheless.

  Night fell. Elaina assumed Jaimin and the caravan were still safe, as she felt nothing to the contrary. Eleonora was sleepy from her awful mending chore, but her intensifying contractions would not let her doze off.

  Elaina had her sister try manipulating water, and to their surprise it worked on the first try! Eleonora managed to draw a tiny sphere of water from a small puddle left over from a leaky water skin, but just as the sphere broke from the water’s surface, Eleonora’s water broke, bringing the lesson to a messy end.

  “I believe,” said Elaina, “that you and the baby can survive tonight, whatever happens.”

  “You just keep on believing that as hard as you can.”

  Eleonora positioned herself on the floor near the wall, supporting her back with a blanket. She sat on a second blanket, leaving part of it stretched out in front of her for the baby to emerge onto. As soon as she was settled into her new pose, she felt the baby edging down the birth canal, and she felt the strong urge to push.

  “Can I push now?” Eleonora asked.

  “Yeah, I think so,” Elaina replied.

  “How hard?”

  “I don’t know—I guess as hard as you want.”

  “Urrrgh!” Eleonora cried as she applied pressure, not knowing whether she was doing it right. “I…think it has a ways to go,” she said. “Tell me a story or something while I do this.”

  Elaina distracted her sister with the tragic story of how, in her own defense, she had killed her mentally altered housemate as he was holding a knife at her throat. It wasn’t an uplifting story, but it was a perfect example of how resourceful Celmareans could be in tough situations.

  The baby finally presented as a normal, head-first delivery. Fine, black hair covered its little head.

  “Aaaaaaarghh,” Eleonora cried, clenching her teeth. “Augh, crud, I’m not meant to stretch like this. I can only believe…”

  “Believe?” Elaina asked.

  “It’s going to be over soon,” Eleonora said. “Women throughout…urgh…throughout history have gone through this and survived. Haven’t they?”

  “Most of them,” Elaina said. “But you will for sure.”

  Elaina was on edge; she even felt some of Eleonora’s physical pain. It was quite unsettling for Elaina to see her identical twin give birth. This could be me in a year or two, she thought. “You can do it!” Elaina said.

  “I don’t have much of a choice, do I? Ergh…Oh, goodness…”

  “You’re strong,” Elaina told her. “Oh, look how strong you are. There you go. He’s coming out!”

  Eleonora pushed with all she had, and the infant slid out onto the blanket, winding up on its back.

  The baby took in a gulp of air, wiggled its limbs, and started to wail.

  It was a raw, magical moment, which had both twins’ minds prickling with excitement. With the pressure suddenly off, Eleonora experienced a dizzy, floating sensation; her midsection and pelvic area burned with soreness and felt numb at the same time. She relaxed her body and caught her breath.

  “You need to pick him up,” Elaina said. “I can’t. Remember how we planned it.”

  “Hey, just give me a moment,” said Eleonora, panting. “Okay, okay…”

  Eleonora fought the soreness, and with her strong arms she pulled herself backward to sit up against the cold stone wall. As she did this, her bottom dragged the birth blanket and the baby toward her. She took another few deep breaths, and then again battled the pain to lean and pick up the tiny child crying before her. “He’s so slippery! Shhh…shhh… There you go.” As soon as she picked the baby up, it fell silent and looked straight into her eyes. Eleonora’s heart melted with joy. “Oh, how precious you are!”

  “Maybe you should try feeding him,” Elaina suggested.

  “What?”

  “Feed him before he cries again.”

  “Okay, just a minute here…” Eleonora pulled the baby close to her and offered it her left nipple.
With her free hand she cleaned off its body with the blanket, trying not to disrupt this first feeding. That’s when she saw it was a girl.

  “Is anyone coming?” Eleonora asked.

  “I don’t hear anyone,” Elaina said.

  “It’s a girl.”

  “What?”

  “She’s not Camron. Look at that. She’s a girl! My father lied.” Eleonora said.

  “Wow. Why? Never mind. Here comes the placenta.” The slippery, temporary organ flubbed out onto the floor. Eleonora was nauseated and didn’t have the hands free to deal with the placenta, and Elaina looked on, desperately wishing she could help more. It was an awkward, messy scene, but both sisters were just happy that the baby was out and alive, and breathing normally. Somehow, they were able to set aside the real danger of Eleonora’s predicament and enjoy the moment.

  “A girl, wow!” Elaina said. “She’s adorable.”

  After the baby had fed some, Eleonora set her down, tied off her umbilical cord with a strip she’d ripped from her nightdress, and severed the cord with one of several knives she’d made out of her husband’s leg bone. Using more cloth torn from her nightdress, Eleonora made a rudimentary diaper and slipped it between the baby’s legs, but there was nothing to fasten it with, so she left it loose. Finally, she bundled her child tightly in the cleaner blanket.

  “What should I call her?” Eleonora asked.

  “She’s a Celmarean princess, you know,” Elaina said, leaning in for a closer look at her niece. “I hear there’s a tradition in naming Celmarean princesses.”

  “What’s the tradition?”

  “The princesses of the next generation were to have names beginning with ‘I,’” Elaina explained.

  “Ia,” Eleonora said. “How about Ia?”

  “It’s beautiful,” Elaina said. “I think ia means ‘wind.’”

  “Wind can be forceful or gentle,” said Eleonora. “It can warm someone or chill them to the bone. And it’s always resilient and determined, just like a princess must be—just like my daughter must be.”

  Ia looked serene. Elaina kept staring at her niece in wonder, and Eleonora had another good, long look at her baby before picking her up and positioning her to feed from her other breast.