Dinavhek- The Fall Read online

  Crunch, crunch, crunch. The horse did not seem impressed.

  Glanen thought he would be able to lead the horse out by grabbing one of the apples. He thought wrong, which he learned too late, as the horse's mouth shot out and snatched the apple right out of his hand. The knight narrowly avoided losing a few fingers.

  “I don't think he's going anywhere, sir,” came the meek voice of the stable boy, a scruffy, thin lad, with a mop of curly black hair that covered his eyes. “I've got another horse you can borrow, same one your friend took.”

  The knight sighed, and gave the stallion a fond pat on the neck. The horse ignored him, focused entirely on his meal. “I suppose I owe you the day off.”

  Xanthus snorted.

  “I don't think that horse is going anywhere for at least a week,” the stable boy said, grinning. “He's a proud one, he is.”

  Glanen laughed. “He's got reason to be! I suppose even the best of us need time to ourselves. Take care not to spoil him too much, lad. I may need him again soon.”

  The stable boy inclined his head, still smiling. “Yes, sir. Shall I bring the mare around?”

  “Please do.”

  “Yes, sir,” the boy said again, hurrying off.

  Glanen chuckled and patted Xanthus again before leaving the stubborn beast to his treats. The horse did not bother to give him even the tiniest bit of acknowledgment.

  The village looked far worse that afternoon than it had looked before. How was that even possible? The village had been on fire the past day! Perhaps, focused as he was on finding the hostage, Glanen hadn't truly noticed the full scale of the damage. Now that he found himself standing there and taking in the aftermath, the knight couldn't believe what he was seeing.

  The fields were destroyed beyond mending; nothing would ever grow on those lands again. What few homes that were left standing had enormous holes in their walls, floors, and ceilings. Livestock pens had been broken open, letting loose many of the village's livestock. Glanen himself had assisted a poor, overworked shepherd in wrangling a particularly foul-tempered ram, one of only three that were discovered alive.

  Now, the knight found himself standing at the village's well, discussing the fate of it and the remaining civilians with two members of the council.

  They felt they had better things to do than to trifle themselves with the fate of a backwater village and the poor, struggling commonfolk inhabiting it.

  “The raiding has gotten out of hand,” said Brethiamo, one of the men that made up the king's council. “Dre'shii is the fourth village that has been attacked this season, and the attacks are growing closer to Aranaot. The last three left a few houses burnt, but the destruction was otherwise minimal. Who are they going to target next?”

  “Even one raid is too many,” Glanen said – or tried to, for he was abruptly cut off by another man, Gotaaga, a short, plump man with frayed hair.

  “Make no mistake, Dre'shii was targeted intentionally. It's one of our largest farming communities. This was a calculated move. After all, how many people will starve without their food?”

  Glanen almost snorted at that, not because he did not care for the needs of the people, but because he knew Gotaaga certainly did not.

  “We will have to encourage more people to share and to ration,” Glanen put in, his suggestion falling on deaf ears. “The poorer commonfolk won't be able to, but our last banquet could have fed this entire village for days. We can afford to cut back, perhaps take the burden off of them a little.”

  One of the village elders stepped up. “We still have many of our goats and chickens, thank the goddess. We lost most of our rams, but we still have plenty of ewes. Our land is dead, but there's always demand for wool and eggs. With a little help, we can get back on our feet. Dre'shii is a proud community; no one will starve as long as we stand.”

  The councilmen ignored him.

  “Those Takirari animals,” Brethiamo said, glaring strangely at Gotaaga. “They weren't pleased when we shut off trade with them. This has them written all over it!”

  Glanen was dumbfounded. “Bandits! From Takirar?” he finally said, shaking his head. “You really think a powerful government is sending the lowest kind of thugs all the way into the heart of Dinavhek? I doubt the raid was a political statement, my lord. They abducted a child, probably in hopes of selling her into slavery. By the sound of it, they tried to make off with a few more. They were likely motivated by profit.”

  “So motivated that they would risk attacking a settlement so close to our capital?” Brethiamo asked.

  “Yes. Kindly explain how you know their motives,” Gotaaga added.

  “If I may,” the village elder tried to cut in.

  Gotaaga talked right over him.

  “Yes, those creatures from Takirar must be behind this! Causing chaos along the border isn't enough, now they're attacking Dinavhene citizens!”

  Brethiamo nodded, leaving Glanen dumbfounded.

  The knight cleared his throat. “By the goddess, can't we just give the subject a rest for the time being? You blame Takirar for every small conflict that arises. But we're not in Takirar right now, we're in Dinavhek. These people will not survive if we leave Dre'shii as it is now – in ruin.”

  “You sanctimonious brat,” Gotaaga growled. “You think we don't know how to handle the people of Dinavhek? You think you have a right to speak in such a disrespectful manner to us? I could have you flogged. I could have you discharged from the knighthood! Keep this up much longer and I could even have you imprisoned. Your father would know better than to object.”

  His father absolutely would not, but he and Glanen were foreigners; unless the King himself stepped in, there was little they could do. It was a miracle that either of them had risen so high in Dinavhene society to begin with.

  The younger man bowed stiffly. “Please accept my apology, my lord. I am merely shaken by what has transpired here. Dre'shii looks even worse now than it did yesterday, when it was up in flames. I only want to see justice for the people of Dinavhek – against whom, it matters not.”

  He may have laid that on a bit thick, he thought, but the senators seemed impressed enough, for they did not press the issue any further.

  “If he is so concerned about the well-being of the... commonfolk, perhaps we ought to leave him in charge of the restoration,” Brethiamo suggested.

  Gotaaga frowned thoughtfully. “Yes, I suppose so,” he answered.

  The village elder, who had been shut out of the conversation entirely, cleared his throat. “I will gladly accept any aid, and I know I am not alone in this. Please, we need all we can get. Even one helping hand is better than nothing.”

  “Then it is settled,” Brethiamo stated, “we will leave you to discuss the details.”

  With that, they departed, taking great care to avoid coming within a few paces of a single villager or animal, as though the misfortune of the commonfolk were some sort of highly contagious disease. Glanen watched it all with a mixture of dismay and relief. Though the task ahead of him was daunting, he was glad to see them go. Of all of the men that made up the Ruling Council, Gotaaga and Brethiamo were the least honorable, and the most vain.

  “What is your name, sir?” Glanen asked, facing the elder who had been largely ignored.

  “Lymnai,” the man said, giving the knight a pained little smile.

  “I will see Dre'shii returned to its former glory, Lymnai,” Glanen said, giving him a half-bow. “You have my word.”

  *​*​*

  Glanen was disappointed, though not exactly surprised to hear that Aasimah had been reclusive throughout the day. Itholera had checked on her a few times, bringing her food and drink from the kitchen. What did surprise the knight was that Aasimah did not speak at all even to Itholera. Adsuni visited her only once, to deliver a message.

  Though the King himself could not be bothered enough to meet with her directly, he had, through the prince, given her a few days to recover. It meant more work for Itholera
, but the prince chipped in where he could to ease her burden – secretly, of course, for if Itholera proved incompetent, she would likely be dismissed and replaced with some new servant.

  Neither Adsuni nor Glanen wanted to see her separated from Aasimah again.

  “Is this really the best approach?” Glanen asked his friend that evening, as they discussed the events of the day. Itholera had prepared tea and a set of small, lightly sweetened pastries for them, which had not been touched.

  The prince grimaced. “I don't know. I thought she would start to come around, but this whole thing is a bit out of my... expertise. It's like there is some great wall between us. I fear that wall is quite thick and solid. It won't cave to brute force. We'll have to be careful about how we choose to go about scaling it.”

  Glanen found the analogy strange, but he couldn't disagree. “Do you remember the week after my second battle, when I went missing?”

  “Missing?” The prince asked, grinning. “You mean that week-long celebration by which you and your father went camping along the Karilar mountain border? It took nearly a month to wipe that ridiculous smile off your face when you got back!”

  “We did go camping, but it wasn't in celebration. I needed to get away.”

  The prince's smile faltered. “From who? Me?”

  “From everyone. From Dinavhek. From the Knighthood. From... everyone. Everyone and everything. I was smiling when I returned because if I stopped, I feared I would come undone.”

  Adsuni, who had been reclining comfortably in his chair, leaned forward, all traces of levity gone. “But after your first battle, you boasted for weeks over slaying seven bandits and rescuing a woman from their leader. What could you have gone through in your second week to top that?”

  Glanen shook his head and gave a helpless chuckle. “I did not slay a single person in my first battle. My comrade did. We were separated from everyone else... he died protecting my foolish arse when I panicked and refused to lift my sword. I was knocked from my horse, my sword ended up near one of the bodies. When the captain came, he had no questions for me. He thought I had been the one fighting. He thought me a hero. I couldn't... When everyone gathered around me, cheering my name, I could not force myself to tell them the truth. They had a hero.”

  “And that second battle?” Adsuni prompted.

  “I remembered my fallen friend, and I wanted justice. What hit me hardest wasn't the spear I took to my thigh, or how difficult it was to kill – it was how easy it was. There were living, breathing men rushing all around me, some to defend me, some to kill me. And killing them before they killed me was easier than I thought it would be. The hardest part came after, when I began to think – were their mothers, wives, or children going to find out? Were they going to have to have to wonder whether their loved one suffered? Or would they be left in the dark, never knowing what happened to him at all?”

  Adsuni had never known Glanen to be so thoughtful, or so grim. The prince had nothing to say in response. He fumbled a bit with one of Itholera's pastries, but could not bring himself to take a bite. Glanen knew that his words were painful to hear, that his friend would never look at him the same way again, but he could no longer bear to hide the truth. He wanted, desperately, for his friend to see him, to understand why he feared for Aasimah.

  At long last, the prince broke the uncomfortable silence. “I have never known you to be anything but honest and brave, and loyal. To a fault, maybe. But never have you shown me anything different. It never occurred to me that perhaps I was placing an impossibly heavy burden on your shoulders. Perhaps I expected too much of you.”

  “And now that you know the truth, you are ashamed?”

  “No! No, never that. I know your heart. We have been friends for our entire lives. When my mother left us, you and your father were there. Everyone else saw you as outsiders, but not I, and certainly not my father. Though we are of different blood, I would like to think of us as family. And what family doesn't have secrets?”

  Glanen took a long, deep breath. He wouldn't have blamed the prince if he had rejected their friendship, but he would still have been devastated nonetheless.

  “Knowing what pain this burden has caused you, I cannot rightly leave Aasimah to bear it alone. I just don't know what to do. This is something I just don't understand. I – I want to, but... No, on second thought, I don't think I do. Ah, I'm a terrible friend,” the prince lamented.

  “At least you are more honest,” Glanen said, taking a sip of his tea, which Itholera had sweetened for him.

  “Not that anyone ever expects that of me,” the prince retorted. “Because I am the prince, people expect me to lie to them. The commonfolk distrust me, the councilmen look down upon me, and my own father speaks to me as if I am still a small child.”

  “And I am a hero,” Glanen finished the prince's unspoken thought, “despite giving into cowardice and allowing one of my comrades to die on my behalf. It is a deplorable state of things.”

  The prince laughed abruptly, coarsely, his normally soft voice twisted by bitter resentment. “I almost envy them, you know. Aasimah and Itholera. I know they were brought here against their will, initially, but at least their lives are simpler.”

  “As simple as that of a thick-headed do-good knight?” Glanen asked.

  Adsuni scratched his chin. “Not so. I heard that Brethiamo and Gotaaga gave you trouble today?”

  The knight downed the rest of his tea before answering.

  “They are reluctant to offer any aid to Dre'shii, and tasked me with handling all restoration efforts.”

  “Then,” the prince said, standing, “it looks like it's time for me to leave the nest. I cannot stand by and continue being a mere figurehead for the people. If my father will not step in, I will.”

  Chapter 12

  In Aid of Dre'shii

  ∞∞∞

  Under Glanen's counsel, Adsuni began to visit with Aasimah during her recovery. At first, she was reluctant to speak with him, he found her more willing to engage with him over time. She did not seem to want to discuss her experiences in Dre'shii, but that was only to be expected. Instead, he stopped by to speak with her while she worked around the palace, and some afternoons, he took her out to the garden.

  The prince taught her how to skip pebbles in the water. He told her stories about his mother, too – what few he knew from memory, and the rest of which he knew from his father. His favorite stories about her all involved travel; she had once been a guest of a noble family in Helisfar, the Lesser – the home of the elves. The prince had never seen an elf before, since they were not in the habit of doing business with Dinavhek. Indeed, the elves and the dwarves seemed to hold a unique grudge against Dinavhek, though thankfully not a violent one.

  “I wonder what it must be like,” the prince was saying one such afternoon, “to meet another person, one that isn't human. I know the small-people and the pointed-ear folk exist, I hear stories about them from time to time, but I've never seen one. I hear they live longer than humans. Can you imagine that? Living for centuries, as opposed to decades? I think I'd eventually die of boredom. I hear they have slanted eyes, and that the women among the small-people even have beards!”

  Aasimah wasn't paying a great deal of attention to him. She was tuning him out, mostly, in favor of losing herself in her own mind. As he prattled on, she toyed with the idea of throwing a pebble directly at him.

  “—and that was when the unicorn began demanding golden figs in payment for her services,” the prince said, finishing whatever subject it was that he'd been rambling on about.

  Aasimah frowned, letting it all sink in.

  “What?” she had enough presence of mind to ask.

  The prince laughed. “I knew you weren't paying attention, so I came up with the most ridiculous story I could think of to get your attention. I'm surprised you didn't notice sooner.”

  “You got me,” Aasimah admitted.

  “Aasimah,” the prince said, “it has
been nearly a month since the... incident. I know it still pains you, but I... oh, forget it.”

  “No, I'm listening now. Go on. What were you going to say?”

  “I worry about you, still. I suppose you'll never really be the same as before, but—”

  “The same? You hardly knew me,” Aasimah retorted. “You don't even know me now. Not really. Look, you're... nice, but let's not kid ourselves; we might as well be strangers.”

  Adsuni flinched as if he'd been struck. She had a point, after all. The prince hadn't known her for very long before, as he called it, “the incident,” but there had been a noticeable change in her demeanor ever since. If Glanen could go back to his usual rambunctious self, why couldn't she?

  The prince decided to change the subject somewhat, hoping to approach her from a new angle.

  “Dre'shii seems to be progressing nicely,” he informed her. “It will be years before the village is returned to its former glory, but already, some of the houses have been rebuilt, and those that sustained injuries in the battle are on the mend.”

  “Can it really return to its 'former glory'?”

  Adsuni shrugged. “To be honest, I don't know. The damage was... extensive, to say the least. But they've been making headway. There are more people with homes now than without, and that's saying something, especially with what little resources they were given for their recovery.”

  Aasimah glanced at him, seeming skeptical. “I heard that Glanen has been tasked with rebuilding the village, and that he's doing so with no outside help. Is that true?”

  “It is. The councilmen refused to give him any aid, and the Knighthood has better things to do, it seems. Father could force someone to help him out, but he doesn't like conflict, and he trusts the senators too much.”

  “What a ridiculous situation,” Aasimah said bluntly, earning a rueful grin from the prince.

  “It truly is. To think that a knight of Glanen's stature is spending all of his time, every single day, rebuilding a village with help only from its own occupants? It's ludicrous. But that one has a heart of gold, as some might say.”