Chapter Twenty-Five Alder
Chapter Twenty-Five
Alder
Lettle had prophesied help would come, but as they stood by the edge of the war camp, nothing presented itself.
‘Are we sure this is the right thing to do?’ Alder asked her. He pulled at the collar of the uniform he was wearing. In the quiet of the morning, Mortah had slipped into the nearest tents and stolen three sets of uniform. She had returned brandishing them.
‘Stole them when they each went to the latrines,’ she said. ‘Easy as anything.’
But Alder suspected it hadn’t been easy, just from the sweat that darkened her shirt.
Lettle ran her fingers over the four emblems that now adorned her lapels.
‘The coalition is standing firm,’ she’d said with wonder when she’d first seen them.
She looked more at ease in the clothing than he expected.
She had told him she’d been an archer during her years of conscription.
From the way she held herself, he thought she’d been a good one.
Alder, on the other hand, felt extremely uncomfortable. Lettle must have noticed for she said, ‘The Fates have spoken. Bosome’s children will help–that’s the elves–so we’ll be fine.’
He didn’t want to point out that the Fates hadn’t exactly said they’d be fine. He wrapped his arms around himself and ran through everything that Mortah had taught him that morning.
Beat a closed fist over my heart to salute. Hard enough to hear the drumbeat in my breath; the louder the beat, the more respect I afford.
His feet twitched with the formations she’d instilled in him. So much so that he almost stumbled, revealing their location.
‘Are you all right?’ Mortah asked.
‘Yes.’
No, not really.
He would never be the same again.
Lettle had asked him whether he regretted knowing the truth of his origins. He’d recounted one of Dart’s epithets about life being a rose, thorns and all, but the truth was he longed for the ignorance of the past.
He wished he hadn’t learned anything about his former crimes. His skin felt uncomfortable on his bones, his hands red with the blood of so many innocents. But he could see the guilt eating away at Lettle, and he didn’t want her to feel even worse about something she could not change.
The one thing his mind had gifted him was a dream of the future, of him and Golan in Caperly. ‘Uncle Alder’, the children had called him. But even then, he had known it to be an unobtainable dream.
The truth would haunt him for ever.
‘Remember the plan?’ Lettle said, and he repainted his face with a smile.
‘We stick together. We do not bring attention to ourselves. We head straight to the entrance to Mosima. If we are stopped, we confirm we have been sent to relieve those on duty.’
‘And if they protest?’ Mortah said.
‘We run.’
A simple plan. Too simple. Too stupid. But he didn’t want to voice his opinion. Now that he knew his history, he was scared to influence anything and anyone lest he inadvertently cause disaster once more.
Besides, Lettle said help would come…
They lingered in the shadows of the trees, waiting for the soldiers to change shift.
‘When this is all over, what do you want to do?’ Lettle asked.
It was a question for less fraught times. Wistfulness did not belong in a war camp, but to his surprise, Mortah answered with a nostalgic warmth he hadn’t heard from her before.
‘I want to rejoin the elven army. I know I’m old–don’t look at me like that, Alder.’ He hadn’t realised his face had changed at all. ‘But I think I could help change things, use the army to build a better world–not to fight, but to protect.’
Lettle’s face betrayed her feelings: she did not support armed forces, offensively or defensively.
‘Will you stay in Mosima, and continue on as seer?’ Alder asked her.
Lettle dropped her gaze to her prophecy tokens. It was clear she was battling some internal war. ‘I’m not sure,’ were the words she settled on.
Then she turned her violet gaze on him before he could ask more. ‘What about you?’
Alder allowed himself a small smile as he thought of Golan and the whispered plans they’d once made beneath the sheets, in the moments after ecstasy when anything felt possible. ‘Golan and I talked about starting our own farm, somewhere quiet, near Caperly.’
Lettle snorted. ‘Golan, a farmer?’
‘His mother kept a vegetable patch in the garden, it was some of his happiest memories of her.’
Lettle’s smile dropped. ‘Oh, I didn’t know that.’
‘We talked about corn for half the night. He knew more than me about growing it,’ he laughed. But the memory turned bitter as he was brought back to the present.
Golan would not love the man he was now. How could he after everything he had done?
The soulless obeah stood in the tree line behind them.
He’d commanded they stay and they had complied with no fuss.
He did not enjoy telling them what to do; in truth, the creatures terrified him.
Their eyes reminded him of fish, freshly gutted.
But it wasn’t just their coldness that unsettled him. It was the power he had over them.
Alder wasn’t a natural leader. The role of Wayfarer of the Nomads had been bestowed on him unwittingly. Though his job was to guide, it had taken him many years to learn to instigate his opinions.
To have complete control over another being sickened him to his core.
When Lettle had suggested they use the obeah to fight their way through the army, sheer panic had gripped him.
The creatures might have no souls, but they were still creatures.
He could not and would not be culpable for any more blood spilled.
Afa had killed enough. He had killed enough.
‘Looks like some of the soldiers are moving. Everyone ready?’ Mortah said.
Lettle looked to Ajax then up at Alder. ‘Now,’ she said.
‘Obeah, to me,’ Alder said. The beasts launched forward. ‘Surround Ajax.’
The king’s obeah was taken entirely unaware as the soulless obeah surrounded him.
It had been Lettle’s idea. She had thought it up that morning when Ajax had left the camp to forage.
‘He won’t be able to stay out of harm’s way,’ she said.
Alder had been apprehensive; he did not like the idea of taking away Ajax’s will either.
‘Please, Alder,’ Lettle was distraught. ‘Ajax and Rayan will protect me at the cost of their own lives.’
‘But—’
‘You won’t be using the obeah to harm anyone, only to protect.’
‘Lettle, I—’
‘I can’t be the reason he dies, Alder,’ she cried, and it broke his heart. He knew what it felt like to cause death, even though it wasn’t his fault. So he had agreed.
But seeing Ajax’s fear as the obeah circled him made him regret his choice. His eyes were wide, the whites of them showing as they rolled back.
Ajax snorted as the obeah advanced towards him.
‘It’s all right, Ajax, stay calm. Don’t fight them,’ Lettle was saying in a soothing voice.
The soulless obeah locked horns then pointed them downwards.
Ajax whimpered and pawed at the ground.
‘I’m sorry,’ Lettle said. ‘But I need to keep you safe. Alder will release you once we’re inside Mosima.’
Lettle set her shoulders and turned away from the obeah. Alder thought it took considerable strength.
‘Let’s go,’ she said.
They began to move through the edges of the camp. Morning dew had made the marshland even more boggy, and their boots squelched as they walked. It was early and many of the soldiers were still in their tents.
Alder had never been in a settlement like it.
The first thing he noticed was the smell.
They had dug latrines too close to their sprawling encampment, so those housed in the tents by the border were subjected to the stench of thousands of soldiers’ waste.
Alder had never seen more than the Nomads’ modest population of under five hundred in a room before.
And even then, that was only in Caperly.
The travelling group were less than two hundred oftentimes.
The tents themselves were once white but now grimy with mud. The months out in the Wasted Marshes had taken their toll, and Alder spotted more than one bit of patchwork.
Small fires smouldered in pockets around the camp, left over from the night watch. They walked past one with a soldier asleep next to it, close enough to singe his eyebrows.
Mortah shook her head. ‘Terrible discipline.’
Alder found Mortah to be an enigma. Though she’d rarely strung more than five words together throughout their journey, she seemed to enjoy teaching him all about the army. When she spoke of her time there, her eyes lit up with an intensity she hadn’t shown for anything before.
‘I was a captain,’ she had said when he’d asked. He didn’t understand the ranking system, but from the gravity with which she’d said it, he assumed it was high. So he had nodded and looked appropriately impressed.
‘He would be dismissed the second he woke up if he’d been in my regiment,’ she remarked about the sleeping soldier.
They continued on. Alder began to relax a little as the entrance to Mosima came into sight. This was easier than he expected.
‘Soldiers,’ the call came from behind them and Alder froze. All of his brief training completely left him.
Mortah thankfully turned quickly on her heel and saluted. ‘Colonel.’
Alder cursed inwardly, as he couldn’t remember if a colonel was high ranking or low.
‘Where are you going?’ The woman was no older than forty, with white hair that was braided by her waist. Alder noticed she wore a Waning symbol on her lapel.
‘We’ve been sent to relieve the soldiers at the entrance to Mosima,’ Mortah said.
Lettle was giving Alder an urgent stare and he realised he hadn’t saluted. His stomach dropped and he snapped out of his paralysis, following Lettle’s lead by bringing his fist to his chest.
The colonel’s brow knotted together. ‘Who sent you?’
‘We are part of Rohan’s regiment, Colonel. In Waxing,’ Mortah answered quickly.
She was good at lying.
‘All regiments know that the entrance to Mosima is Colonel Reena’s jurisdiction, that is to say my jurisdiction,’ Reena said.
‘Apologies, we’ll be sure to inform Captain Rohan on our return.’
‘Yes, do that,’ Reena said. Just when Alder was sure she was about to ask another leading question which would give them away, a soldier ran up to her.
‘Colonel Reena, there’s trouble in Crescent. Three captains are refusing their orders until they see Chieftain Waksa.’
Reena made a frustrated sound. ‘I’ll deal with it,’ she said to the soldier, then she turned back to them. ‘Go back to Waxing, tell Rohan I want to see them.’
Mortah saluted as Reena moved off. Lettle had to jab Alder with an elbow to remind him to do the same.
Alder let out a shaky breath. ‘I was sure we were caught.’
‘Don’t lower your hand from your chest. Reena is still watching,’ Mortah said. Alder glanced up and caught the eye of the colonel as she was walking away.
Her eyes were narrowed, but then she glanced away, her mind on other things.
They waited for what felt like for ever. Alder only relaxed when Mortah did.
‘I really thought we were done for,’ Alder said.
Lettle frowned. ‘Did you notice she was wearing a uniform with only the Waning symbol on? And the soldier who came up to her was too.’
Mortah didn’t respond; she kept looking behind her. ‘Something’s wrong here. The air crackles like it did on the Bleeding Field. And did you hear what they said? There are captains refusing orders in Crescent.’
‘This doesn’t feel like a coalition at all,’ Lettle agreed, but truthfully, Alder had no point of reference.
‘What do we do now?’ he said.
‘We continue with the plan,’ Mortah said. ‘If she’s off to Crescent then she won’t be at the border to stop us. All we need to do is get into the tunnel.’
‘And hope that either Furi or Rayan are on the other side to let us in,’ Alder muttered.
‘They will be,’ Lettle said firmly. ‘Don’t forget the Fates told us help will come.’
Alder clenched his fists. He didn’t trust the Fates any more than he trusted human magic.
‘I think we should move quickly now,’ Mortah said, taking the first step. ‘Not too fast, Alder, just a gentle jog, like we’re training. That’s it.’
Alder was already out of breath despite the easy pace.
‘We’re not far now,’ Lettle said by his side. She must have realised his panic.
He nodded, not trusting himself to speak.
The edge of the tunnel came into view. But so too did the scale of the soldiers guarding it.
‘There’s at least a hundred armed guards here,’ Mortah muttered. The soldiers parted, revealing someone else among their ranks.
Colonel Reena.
‘It occurred to me after I had left, that Rohan retired from the Waxing army twenty years ago,’ Reena said lightly.
‘Shit,’ Mortah said.
Alder’s chest jerked as though he’d been shot. It was over. They’d been caught.
‘It’s all right, help is coming,’ Lettle reminded him again, but it did little to ease his fear.
She is so na?ve, even after everything she has learned; she still thinks magic will save her.
But Alder knew no one could save them except themselves. He dropped to the ground and pressed his hands to the earth.
‘What are you doing?’ Reena said. She reached for her drum, but her hand hesitated as she watched Alder with curiosity.
He willed the ground to part beneath him. Shift, move, do something.
But the earth didn’t so much as tremble.
‘Shit,’ Mortah said again, and Reena smiled, realising Alder was no threat.
Reena raised her hand and the entire squadron behind moved in formation towards them.
As the soldiers advanced Lettle seemed to finally accept that the ruse was over. ‘Alder, the obeah, call them,’ she said urgently.
He shook his head. ‘No.’ There were too many soldiers. Even if the obeah managed to fight them off, many of the creatures would die and he wanted no more blood on his hands.
Lettle bowed her head, accepting his decision, though he thought he saw a flicker of frustration in her eyes. But she couldn’t know what it was like to be able to manipulate another body so easily. He had to be gentle with their lives, even if they had no souls.
‘We should run,’ Lettle said.
‘No, there is no point. There are too many of them, we’ll die with holes in our backs,’ Mortah said.
‘Better than holes in our fronts. I’d rather not see death come for me,’ Lettle said.
The soldiers were within firing distance now and it took only a single word from Reena to condemn them.
‘Fire.’