Chapter Twenty-Nine Alder
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Alder
Seeing Lettle give up terrified Alder more than anything else he had seen that day. Her scream echoed around the camp, lifting the hairs on his arms.
When she was spent, Malak laughed. ‘Keep it up, they might have even heard you in Mosima.’
‘Lettle,’ Alder said, trying to draw her vacant eyes to him. But she didn’t even twitch in his direction.
Panic surged through his body, as thick and hot as blood. He could not lose Lettle, she had been his anchor through everything. She knew all the parts of him and was the one person who could help him maintain the line between him and Afa.
And beyond that she was his friend.
Their love for one another was the only thing that had remained unscathed during their journey.
He watched as Malak’s fingers caressed the hoop of his drum, ready to strike.
‘A few days of starvation will loosen your lips. Then perhaps you’ll be more willing to help me,’ the chieftain said.
Again, Lettle didn’t respond.
Come on, Lettle, please. Fight back, do something.
Malak flicked his wrist and two guards walked forward and lifted Lettle by the arms.
Her head lolled to the side, her eyes still blinking with life, but her spirit was broken.
It was as though she was awaiting her death.
The image stirred Alder’s panic into rage. He could not sit by and allow them to take Lettle away.
So he said the words he’d vowed he wouldn’t.
‘Obeah, to me,’ he said.
He had promised not to use the creatures as weapons, but without Lettle everything would be lost. It wasn’t just his identity that would suffer; the lives of an entire race rested on her drooping shoulders–she was the only one who knew the spell to bring back the humans.
He was doing this to save them, as well as her.
As well as him.
Did Afa think this righteously when he broke his promise to Hady?
His nails bit into his palm and he pushed the thought from his mind. Even though he knew that in making this decision he had irrevocably blurred the boundary between him and Afa.
Malak looked around, surprised by Alder’s call, but when no obeah showed up, he smiled. ‘Is this some trick?’
Alder waited.
Then Malak heard it. A distant thunder at first, growing louder with each passing second. The soldier holding Alder let go of him in favour of her drum.
‘What is happening?’ Reena said. She hadn’t recognised the sound, but she’d see them soon enough.
The obeah’s footfalls thumped like Alder’s heart as they drew nearer.
Badum, badum, badum.
Louder and louder. Faster and faster.
And just when he thought his heart might rupture, the obeah burst through the camp, tearing through tents and bodies alike. They moved as one, their horns interlocked like a forest of blades.
‘Protect the chieftain!’ Reena shouted, and the soldiers moved to surround Malak in an arrowhead formation.
The white pearlescent bone of the obeah’s horns soon dripped with blood as they advanced. Their teeth were bared in snarls as they carried out Alder’s request: protect him.
Here were the weapons Afa had built. It sickened Alder and he looked away to help Lettle up from the ground.
‘You called the obeah?’ she whispered.
‘Yes.’
‘I’m so sorry, Alder.’ She understood the sacrifice he had made.
He held her to his chest, trying to regain the piece of himself he felt he had lost.
‘We need to go while they’re distracted!’ Mortah shouted. She had regained the drum she had stolen from the soldier and was retreating backwards from the fight.
Though the obeah had taken Malak unawares, his soldiers were retaliating with their full strength. Alder could no longer tell whose blood flowed quickest, the obeah’s or Malak’s people.
The ground was laden with bodies, but where the elves were careful to circumvent their comrades, the obeah simply climbed over them, continuing their onslaught upon the bones of their brethren.
Another platoon of soldiers joined Malak’s side, all with the singular symbol of Waning on their uniforms. They were quick to lend their might against the beasts.
Though drumfire was silent, the damage it made was not, and Alder wanted nothing more than to close his ears to the cries and whimpers of the obeah as they fell.
‘All the obeah are going to die,’ he choked out.
‘Then do not let their sacrifice be for naught,’ Mortah said, urging them away from the fight. The wound at her shoulder had clotted in a bloody mess.
A commotion drew Alder’s attention backwards. His stomach sank as a new group of soldiers marched their way, their bows held up to attack.
‘We’re trapped,’ Alder cried, but Lettle shook her head, some of her old spark lighting her eyes.
‘Look!’ she said.
Alder saw the glint of a silver cloak amongst the newcomers and Shaman Namana pushed her way through the soldiers.
‘Lettle!’ she said. ‘Are you all right?’
Lettle ignored her concern. ‘What’s going on? Who are these soldiers?’
Namana pointed to the soldier at the front who was directing her officers into formation opposite Malak. ‘That’s Colonel Lorna, she was already mobilising her regiment against Malak. Your warning only confirmed her suspicions.’
Alder watched as Lorna’s regiment began to add their firepower to the fight. The sounds of the battle reached a new cacophony.
But Alder had no time to revel in this new hope, as the obeah were still dying. He wept as they were struck down by Malak’s army, one by one.
Namana said hurriedly, ‘The rest of the diviners are spreading the news about Malak’s uprising, but the camp is big and it will take some convincing. These are the only soldiers we have so far.’
It wasn’t enough. Even with the damage the obeah had done, Lorna’s regiment was vastly outnumbered.
‘Tell them Malak killed the other chieftains. The grave is behind his tent if they need the proof,’ Lettle said.
Namana’s face momentarily crumpled and Alder wondered if she’d known one of the chieftains personally. But then it quickly smoothed into the face of a leader.
‘We’ll get the word out.’
Drumfire skimmed past Lettle’s head and she ducked just in time.
Namana grabbed Lettle’s wrists. ‘I have to go. We are not soldiers. We are truthtellers.’
‘Stay safe!’ Lettle shouted as Namana dashed off into the depths of the army camp.
More drumfire followed the first salvo and Alder looked back to see Reena focusing on their little group.
‘This way!’ Mortah said, tugging on both their arms.
Together they began to run, haphazardly, almost drunkenly through the camp.
‘Faster,’ Mortah urged, but Alder’s feet felt numb.
When he walked, whose footprints did he leave behind? His own or Afa’s?
He stumbled, his gaze fixed on the bloody ground. Lettle grasped his hand, steadying him.
‘I have you,’ she said, and he ran on with surer steps.
The shaman’s whisper network had spread quicker than fire and the army was in turmoil.
Shouts of ‘Mutiny’ and ‘Treason’ added to the sounds of the battle.
Soldiers were running into the fray, unsure whether to fight the obeah, or Malak’s coup.
Some were fleeing the camp entirely, and it was easy for their group to join the chaos undetected.
Or so they thought.
There was a shout behind them and Alder glanced back to see Reena giving chase.
‘This way!” Mortah said, directing them towards a narrow street of tents that was quieter than the others.
Alder glanced back and saw that Reena had been swallowed up in the pandemonium of another regiment joining the fight.
Lettle gasped, and when Alder looked forward again, Reena appeared ahead of them, her hand on her drum.
‘You’re coming with me,’ she lisped. One of the obeah’s horns had pierced her cheek and blood dribbled down to her chin.
Mortah turned to Lettle and Alder.
‘You go, I’ll hold her off,’ she said quickly, the stolen drum ready in her hands.
Alder hesitated, knowing that Mortah was offering a chance at freedom at the cost of her life.
No more blood on my hands.
‘Let me stay,’ Alder said.
‘You don’t know how to use drumfire,’ Mortah said, her gaze fixed on Reena. ‘You’ve done all you can here, now go.’
Then she began to beat the drum, her fingers moving far quicker than he thought they could.
Lettle pulled him away before he could see whether Mortah’s bullet had hit true.
Please survive this, Mortah. He couldn’t cope with any more sacrifice.
They ran as fast as they could away from the fight. Alder was glad Lettle had remembered the route to the Mosima tunnel, and she took the lead.
When they reached the neutral territory, it was thankfully empty, all of Malak’s soldiers having been called to his aid.
‘Nearly there,’ Lettle said. Alder was glad to see determination once again painted across her features.
Alder heard the hoofbeats before Lettle.
‘Move, to the side,’ he said, just in time.
A soldier astride a camel cantered along the path behind them, kicking up dust and debris. When it cleared Alder could see who it was.
Malak.
His blond hair was dirty and streaked with blood and fluids. One of his eyes was swollen, promising a purple bruise for tomorrow–if he lived that long. He had seemed someone who had presented himself well, but now his uniform was torn and in disarray, just like the coup he’d attempted.
The chieftain brought his camel to a stop in front of the tunnel entrance. The poor beast was drenched in sweat, its long lashes fluttering in distress. Malak had ridden it hard to reach them in time. He pulled forward his drum so it rested under his palms, ready to strike.
Lettle stepped forward. ‘Malak, it’s over, let us go—’
‘I’m afraid I can’t. Not until the fae are ready to surrender. I told you far too much to let you go now,’ he said.
‘They will never surrender,’ Lettle said fearlessly.
‘I think they might.’ He trailed a lacquered nail along his drumskin. ‘When were you last in Mosima?’
When neither of them answered he said, ‘You’ll find it much changed.’
‘The fae will never bow to you.’
‘They will, one day. When I am crowned emperor.’
The word made Alder’s blood run cold.
‘No, not again,’ he said, and Malak looked at him. ‘The world needs no more tyrants.’
‘I am no tyrant, elf.’
‘And I am no elf,’ Alder replied. He cleared his throat and shouted out, ‘Obeah, come.’
It was easier to call on them a second time.
This is the way it happens, isn’t it? My heart will slowly harden until there will be no difference between me and the man who lived in the sanctuary.
Lettle squeezed Alder’s hand as though she knew what he was thinking. It didn’t comfort him as much as he would have liked.
Malak laughed. ‘Your trick will not work this time.’
The chieftain saw Alder’s confusion and his lips twisted in a cruel smile. ‘The obeah are all dead. One final victory for my battalion.’
Alder staggered as though he’d been hit by drumfire.
The guilt was as keen as if it had been his hand that had struck the bullet into each of the beasts’ hearts. But Alder saw no difference between the beat of drumfire and the words he had spoken.
This was his fault. All of it.
A shadow moved in the tree line, temporarily pulling Alder out from his anguish.
One of the obeah had survived. His hope turned to horror as he realised who it was.
Ajax.
Alder had forgotten that by calling on the obeah he had released Ajax too.
The obeah stood so close to the clearing that he knew if Malak turned slightly to the left, he would be spotted.
Lettle must have seen him too, as she tensed by his side. She drew Malak’s attention her way.
‘There is no point in keeping us prisoner, Malak.’
‘I don’t intend to keep you prisoner,’ he said with a smile. ‘You call me a tyrant, and so I will be one. I just wanted to look you in the eyes as I did it.’
Alder saw his hand move as though in slow motion. From the intensity of movement, Alder knew it was a killing blow directed straight at Lettle’s heart.
Dum-ba-dah.
Three notes.
And three things happened.
Dum.
First Malak lurched forward as though pulled by an invisible string. His head smashed against the rock wall of the tunnel and he fell limp to the ground.
Ba.
Second, Rayan, who was the one to wield the magic that struck Malak, appeared behind the fallen chieftain.
Dah.
And third, Ajax lunged.
He dived in front of the drumfire meant for Lettle.