The Fifth Star - Chapter 15 (2/2) - In Ruin

She read the multiple page letter thrice, holding the papers reverently as she sunk onto the mattress, absorbing it all. Ever since he had left to join the Empire years ago, Alysse had decided she wanted more than a simple homestead life, more than the farm and the children that had always been wordlessly expected of her since childhood. In fact, the day she had come of age, she’d gone to her father and the village elder and demanded to join the rebels’ ranks, eager to prove herself. It had taken much arguing, and many trials besides, before they had reluctantly accepted her. Her father had been beyond furious, but his hands were figuratively tied once Dreidan had admitted her. He left the village only a year later, and she hadn’t heard from him since.

Up until now, so little had been happening in the region that her position had stagnated. She helped forge the records of their taxes, delivered sensitive messages to men and women in Reivic. Having discovered early on she was a fair hand with a bow, she’d poached many animals off Valterian lands to fatten the winter food stores. Advancement beyond these things though had seemed forever away.

In that moment she held within her hands the key to so much more. She no longer needed to be just an errand girl for small tasks. Now, she could make a difference to more than just Kierton – these sheets of paper told her all she needed to become a vital piece of the rebellion, a woman of import and strength. She decided then she would do everything she could, and take what it was she wanted for herself. This may have been a horrific tragedy, but it also presented an opportunity she wasn’t about to let slip by. She no longer desired to live in obscurity. She settled in to the desk, stomach content and her mind made, and began penning her first letter to the rebellion.

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A deep chill had set into the air since the attack, heralding the coming onslaught of winter. Her food stores were dwindling, and Alysse knew for a certainty she would only be able to remain here for another week or two before she would have no choice but to move on to Odan Reis. That is, at least, if she didn't plan to pilfer food along the way, which would only be a last resort at this time of year - anything she took would be a direct loss to someone else's deserving belly.

She sat alone in the miniscule hideout, the scratching of her quill against aged parchment her only company while she penned yet another letter to her contact at the rebellion base, by the light of a single candle which had long ago begun to drip its wax down over the desk. She made no move to stop it; the well worn surface was already deeply scarred, and once her work here was finished all the evidence of her presence would be destroyed anyway.

The encryption code was so ingrained at this point she had no need of the lacquered cipher resting at the back of the table. She'd written enough confidential notes in the past few weeks that the gibberish anyone else would see on her pages was as legible to her as impeccable Valterian. She wrote the last few lines of this particular letter with care: a list with the names and physical descriptions of all the men, women and children she'd sent towards the rebel city since her last note. It was important she make no errors in this, so their newest recruits would arrive and be greeted with open arms instead of unsheathed blades, and she took her time transcribing.

True to what the emergency plan predicted, dozens of people had arrived in Kierton shortly after its destruction, all demanding answers, and many pleading for help. Alysse had done the best she was able - any who rushed to flee and seek refuge in Odan Reis were directed along the best routes and assured of their acceptance, any who were injured she bandaged to the best of her ability, though she’d never had much aptitude for wound care. She’d been occupied, and not a day went by that she was completely alone until the flow of people had slowed to a trickle about a week ago.

Now that the work had slowed, the lack of distraction combined with the constant painful sight of the blackened remnants of Kierton was taking its toll on her mental state. Harsh images of fire and death, which so far had only haunted her dreams, began to creep into her waking hours as well. The worst of these was not actually the village on fire, but the final terrified expression on Marlenna’s face. She’d let the poor girl down, hadn’t even tried, and she would bear that guilt for a long time to come.

Before she ended up reliving that moment yet another time, Alysse signed her letter and its identical copy and stood from the desk, stretching her cramped limbs with a mighty yawn. It was well past dusk, and she dearly wanted to sleep, but the shelter suddenly felt claustrophobic. I need to feed the birds, anyway, she thought as she sealed the notes with a dollop of wax before slipping them in her pants pocket and heading for the door. Over the frame hung her cloak, which she draped over her back and fastened in place, and leaning against the wall sat her bow. She took that and slung it over her shoulders as well as the quiver of arrows; she did not want to be caught unawares and unarmed ever again, no matter how slim the chances were that she’d find a living soul outside.

Emerging from the tunnel, she noted that more time had passed than she had initially thought; the moon’s position in the sky told her midnight was upon her. Inhaling deeply of the cool air, her head began to clear, allowing her to push the memories aside for a while.

The messenger birds were contained in the basement of Dreidan’s home, tucked away where their screeches could not be heard outside. She’d never known they were there herself until she read that letter. She headed that way now at a leisurely pace, making her way down the short winding trail from the tree into the village. When she reached the dirt lane that led through it however, her steps quickened and she drew her cloak tight about her body, shivering, but not from the cold. The corpses of the other villagers, after all, had not been buried. She alone could not have done it, and the refugees passing through had more to concern themselves with than the burial rites of strangers. The guilt she felt for surviving purely from chance – and a mage’s malice – only grew stronger when she looked at their forms, the flies buzzing about them and their smell filling the air. At the least, a few of the able bodied who had come through had assisted her to move them from where they cluttered the streets… but still, they were exposed in piles against the remnants of the houses, and the carrion birds had been starting to swarm - Alysse knew they deserved so much more.

Dreidan’s house was one of few in the village constructed not of wood or mud, but stone, and as such had been spared the extensive damage the rest had suffered. Its thatched roof was gone but the walls stood strong, albeit heavily blackened with soot. She passed through the doorframe and descended the rickety stairs to the basement, where a great chorus of squawks and chirps immediately greeted her.

“All right, all right, settle down,” she said to the few pairs of beady eyes gawking at her as she lit a candle to see by. Most of the birds were regular messenger hawks, but there remained two of an especial merit. They were quite attractive creatures, with mottled feathers upon their chest, small and light of body but with a vicious curved beak she imagined could do quite a lot of damage were one to be cornered. The letter had referred to them as aethawks, and the name was famously known, though she’d never expected to see one in Kierton. From what she knew of them, they were the result of magical experiments centuries past, combining the slightness of a sparrow with the keen mind and instincts of a hawk, along with some strange ability she didn’t understand the specifics of which allowed them to cross the realm in a fraction of the time a regular bird took. Regardless, the sparkle of unnatural intelligence in their eyes was ever unnerving.

She fed each of the remaining hawks a scoop of the seed and grain mixture, speaking softly to them and stroking their feathers through the bars of the cage while she waited for them to finish eating. A few minutes passed, the clacking of beaks ceased, and Alysse opened the cage, allowing two of the regular type to hop out onto her forearm. They emitted happy sounding chirps while she fastened the two copies of her letter to their legs, and they sat placidly until she opened the small hatch set high into the wall. The moment the sky was visible through the opening, their wings opened and they took off, soaring out into the night.

Alysse returned to the hideout and opened the trapdoor to enter when a sound, too close for comfort, caught her attention – the whinny of a horse. Ever so slowly, she lowered the door back into its resting place, listening intently for another that would tell her which direction the sound had come from, but none came. She pulled the bow from her back, loosely notched an arrow to it. Who could be coming at this time of night? she wondered. Bending down into a crouch she moved towards the cover of the few trees present here, and crept along until she had a clear view of the main road into the village, settling down into the brush to watch.

She’d just begun to think a lack of good sleep had her hearing things when two horses, each bearing a rider, came into view. Their faces were impossible to make out from this distance. They came to a stop and dismounted suddenly. One rider slumped down on the ground, and the other followed seconds after.

What-? She was filled with puzzlement as the two sat silently on the road. Then a roar of hatred and anger escaped the one who had been first to dismount, its owner clearly masculine. Without warning, he stood, and a blast of blinding light shot upwards into the sky from his hands, a ball of fire much like she’d seen the red mage use that exploded at its apex.  Alysse’s piqued curiosity morphed into terrible fear. Gods, no, she thought, that mage… he didn’t come back?

The horses neighed out their fear and made to bolt, but Alysse didn’t pay that any mind; instead, she watched as the man threw another fireball into the sky, then fell to his knees, sobbing quite audibly even from this distance. That can’t be right, she figured, that mage would have shown no remorse for what he’s done. So… who is that? Alysse made her way closer as the man’s partner sat next to him again, an arm over his shoulder.

When she was close enough to discern details, far closer than she strictly should have been, she could see it was a woman whose arm was wrapped about the man, though she did not recognize the face. The only details she could discern were short, dark hair and eyes that were especially bright – even in the relative dark of a moonlit night, she could tell how piercingly green they would be in the sun. That thought was short-lived, however. The man raised his head to look at his companion, and his was a face she did recognize.

Alysse couldn’t stop the gasp that escaped her as that face registered and hit her in the chest like a smith’s hammer to an anvil. Before her sat the man she had once been betrothed to, who’d shared that first kiss with her. The man whose parents she’d been closer to than her own before he’d murdered them both and run off to join the Empire. The man who had shattered her heart into a thousand pieces, and who, despite her best efforts, she’d never truly forgotten.

Darius Alder.

Alysse stood on shaking legs, pulled the bowstring taut and took aim, peering down the shaft of the arrow that was now poised to pierce his accursed heart.