Page 52 of Fallen: Darkness Ascending, Vol.1

Cessir smirked. “Which includes us?”

“For certain.” She grinned. “You have never lied to me.”

“Hm. Make this sign if you detect a lie.” Kaju chose a mundane hand gesture. “Keep so we can see you. The rest of you, spread out a little but stay close.”

The Wilder approached the Queen’s Son and his four warriors, showing their empty hands and lack of weapons or armor. Matalai appeared curious, maybe confused, but held his poise until they could talk without shouting.

“Thank you,” he said. “What are your names?”

The brother tapped his chest and spoke first. “Kaju.”

The sister tapped her own, bowing her head. “Cessir.”

“Well met.” Dark red irises landed on Uradri. “And you, good mother?”

“Pennilil,” she answered.

Matalai waited then probed further. “What is your status, each of you?”

“Status?” Cessir repeated, the word unfamiliar.

“Your position of leadership among your tribe?”

“Oh.” She motioned between herself and her sibling. “We are the guiders, a brother and sister of equal standing.”

“Hm.” The half-blood’s strange, neutral gaze landed again on the Sovereign. “And her?”

“Elder advisor,” Cessir said after choosing her words.

The Queen’s Son chose to accept that. He removed from his belt a small cylinder the width of his palm, tugging a tab to pull out a stiff bit of parchment which bore a clear script on both sides.

He referenced it while the guiding siblings glanced at one another, then allowed it to retract before replacing the case on his belt.

Nice show.

“Our last census numbered the Eighth Wild Tribe at two hundred and thirty-seven.” He tilted his head toward Uradri. “Are we off by more than one in either direction?”

Kaju chuckled. “I doubt we have counted that high recently. It is close enough.”

Matalai betrayed brief irritation. “Precision is better.”

“Why is that?”

“The message from the Valsharess, my Mother. The Sorcerer-General’s army needs counsel from the Wild tribes to meet challenges at our borders, and your Queen is calling upon tribute owed.”

“What?!” Uradri barked. “You’re here for conscripts ?”

The siblings stiffened as garnet red eyes focused intently.

“There’s no need to shout, elder. And our wilderness cousins are not conscripts.

Their magic, knowledge of the Desert, and shapeshifting are invaluable to our shared concerns.

The other tribes have already provided recruits.

Volunteers, I add. You are the last ones.

I’m here to negotiate how many you can afford. ”

“ None! ” she snarled. “Not a one.”

“Elder Pennilil?—”

“‘Volunteers,’ huh?” She stretched up to look at the caravan. “Let us speak to those you hold as ‘tribute’ and we shall see how voluntary it is.”

“Impossible. They aren’t where you are looking. In any case, one tribe does not make decisions for the others, am I right?”

“If I were you, I’d have gathered the elders of every tribe at once to discuss this.”

“That’s irrelevant.”

“Not as basis to refuse an undue burden on a people with few hands to spare.”

Matalai exhaled in controlled exasperation, looking to Kaju and Cessir. “Is this so? You cannot spare a hunter or two?”

“Um,” they began.

“What about asking them ?” The Davrin half-blood gestured to their escort. “Are any interested in serving? They would travel far and learn about how the world works. ”

“I know how armies ‘work,’” Uradri said darkly. “With rigid hierarchies and collective torment, they strip you of your ability to think so you follow orders, no matter how unjust or immoral! Soldiers commit atrocities they never would have if not forced into conformity!”

“ No one lives in perfect harmony, elder,” Matalai countered, his jaw tightening.

“Adaptation, collaboration, and, yes, occasional tests of strength are constants between peoples, especially in lands with limited resources like ours. That is clear enough unless you live with your head buried in the sand.”

Cessir and Kaju tensed up.

“Could you slow your words, please?” the sister asked. “We, uh, we don’t understand all you say.”

“Oh?” Matalai squinted. “You cannot even understand your advisor? Is she speaking out of turn?”

Uradri scoffed. “Not when you are trying to trick them into giving up their family to an apparatus of war.”

The Queen’s Son smirked but spoke to Cessir. “Her Davrin speech is impeccable, guiding sister. She looks like you but doesn’t sound like you. Where did she come from if you do not understand her concepts?”

The Wilder siblings panicked; they couldn’t hide it.

Uradri growled protectively. “Leave! We’ll not give you ‘tribute’ under the circumstances.”

Eyebrows rose all together.

“You refuse the Valsharess?” he interpreted in an obvious trap.

“I demand proof,” she countered. “You refuse to show us who volunteered, and we haven’t spoken with the elders of the other tribes. That is naive foolishness to take your word and give our family, as if you have authority out here, Second Son.”

Matalai pressed his lips into a thin, dark line. “Proof, hm.” Dismissing the question of his authority, he reached into a belt pouch, withdrawing a sizeable bloodstone. “One moment, if you will.”

The half-blood withdrew his horse behind those of his bodyguards, all of whom eyed Uradri warily, hands never far from weapon or magical item. They did not have what it would take to stop her, but Uradri recognized the Davrin soldiers and Matalai himself as her descendants.

I will not harm you if I can help it.

But they dare not take her free and balanced children, prevent them from roaming where they will, only to place them in a deadly corral which shredded their spirits.

Do not dare. I will stop you, Queen or no.

The Queen’s messenger returned, his expression relaxed and self-assured compared to when he had turned away. Uradri frowned at the change.

“My mother and father are willing to speak with you, Pennilil,” he said. “We shall wait for them. It won’t be long.”

She stared with her mouth open as nerves rippled through all the Wilder, riders and mounts.

“The… Valsharess is here?” Cessir asked.

Matalai smiled, feigning friendliness that gave Uradri the creeps. “She is. With Her Consort, the Sorcerer-General.”

Kaju and Cessir gave Uradri a pleading look, but she could only shake her head. I wish he were lying.

He was not.

Hearts raced all around her, hooves stamping with anxious whickers as the Sovereign straightened her back.

I called this. So be it. I shall handle it.

She moved forward, gathering her courage and holding it close for their sake.

Four more figures rode out to meet them upon the dunes this afternoon. Uradri soon witnessed auras so powerful, they did not need full guard surrounding them.

Three Davrin females, one Human male.

Each of them wore vibrant colors in an elegant style of dress that made the random articles worn by the Wilder like rags.

Two of the Davrin were sisters close in age.

The one in front wore red and gold while the one flanking her displayed purple and gold.

The Human who must be the Queen’s Zauyrian sorcerer covered the other flank, proudly wearing blue and gold.

And the fourth…

Black with white, and small bit of red. The natural coloring of the Davrin Elves without clothes. Uradri narrowed her eyes. Strange.

“Her Majesty,” Matalai introduced, moving his horse to one side, “the Queen-Mother and Valsharess of V’Gedra, and Her Consort, the Sorcerer-General of the Zauyrian Realms.”

“Your Majesty,” Cessir and Kaju said together, bowing their heads from their horses. “General Firebird.”

The tanned, dark-haired man chuckled, bowing his head. “I am Cris-ri-phon, son of Begir-al-phon, of the Third Realm.”

The guiding siblings grew overwhelmed by all the titles while Uradri quelled the tremble in her stomach.

Yes. That’s him.

Over three hundred years later, the sorcerer remained strong, young, and handsome. He even moved like an Elf for such a large man.

And… Uradri’s eyes drifted to the Queen. Still virile.

The Valsharess was pregnant as well but farther from her birthing.

She stopped her horse beside her Consort, watching them in austere silence.

Regal and beautiful, with black skin, scarlet eyes, and brilliant white hair ornately styled and lifted off her neck, everything about her reminded Uradri of the earliest days on the island.

The Davrin Elves had managed to keep their appearance unchanged for millennia. How disappointing.

“Acknowledge also,” continued Matalai, “the Queen’s Visionary Seer, Ishuna Du’Alyarra, and her acolyte, Kadre the Weaver.”

The Sovereign met eyes with these two. Not since waking in Ice Heart had Uradri experienced such deep chill.

The Seer’s eyes were like clear topaz, an extremely unusual eye color among her breed of Elf, yet her “acolyte” only bore the illusion of garnet-red irises. In truth, they were blank eyes colored a sickly yellow. The shade placed a vile taste upon a Sovereign’s tongue just looking at it.

The Abyss.

The Queen and the Godblood had a true demon among them. Did they know this? Was it an alliance or infiltration? How long had this been going on?

Kadre stared back, unblinking. A hungry grin grew on her Davrin face as a sinister, stealthy message reached the Sovereign’s mind.

*Well, well, well… one of the guerilla angels has arrived! A bit late, aren’t you? Heh! This will be interesting.*

Uradri met the reality-bending stare, searing the edges of the shadow in which it hid. *Indeed, it shall be, creature. That body is not yours to keep.*

Hyper, raucous laughter rippled across the ether. Behind a calm, mortal Elven face, mad, yellow eyes flashed, and gums began to bleed, staining the teeth pink in a demonic grin only Uradri could see.

*I like wearing their skin,* the demon whispered. *Take this one, angel, I will just leap to the next.*

*Not if you’re burned to nothingness.*

“Pennilil?”

“ Pennilil! ”

Uradri jumped as Oros side-stepped, forcing her to cling to his mane or tumble off.