SciFi and Fantasy Stories: Of Love and Blood: Chapter Two

Some of the Riders were beginning to emerge from the barracks to participate in the evening drill.  Kaelimine passed a few of them on his way back into the compound.

            “Drill, Captain?”  One asked.  Kaelimine turned and nodded, then pointed in the direction of the approaching visitors.

            “Soon,” he said.  “I must take care of whatever business is about to present itself.”  The Riders moved out into the field.  Kaelimine watched them briefly, then entered the compound and headed for his office, silently praying that he may be done with whatever the visitors had come for with haste.  The sooner he could finish the drill with the Riders, the sooner he could get back to Analaeia.       

Presently, the door opened, and Kaelimine looked up.  Ti’lan stepped in and was shortly followed by a tall, gaunt, golden-haired elf whom Kaelimine found vaguely familiar.  Behind them both followed one of the visiting Captain’s men, who simply stood in the corner of the office.  Kaelimine gazed at the elf before him, trying to place where he knew him from.

            “Captain Iaarnen of Brooks Dell, sir,” Ti’lan said as the elf approached Kaelimine’s desk.

            Finally the name clicked into place for Kaelimine.  He wondered how he could have ever mistaken it.  The elf before him had been a classmate of his at the Academy in Aldemar, nearly thirty years before.  There had been something of a competitive rivalry between the two, and they had both left the Academy on less than pleasant terms after an unfortunate accident that left Iaarnen unable to train for a week, conveniently right before the exit exams and graduation from the Academy.  While Kaelimine regretted the incident, he was not about to forget that the fight had been started by Iaarnen—perhaps he received the punishment he justly deserved.  Iaarnen had apparently seen things differently: shortly after the incident, he had tried to strangle Kaelimine, no doubt in an effort to kill him.  Kaelimine had at the time shaken it off, but the incident stayed with him for many years.  He had all but forgotten it, until that moment. 

Needless to say, Kaelimine was somewhat surprised to see Iaarnen before him now, a Captain. 

            “Many years it has been, Captain,” Iaarnen said dryly—it was obvious that he, still, had not forgotten the event at the Academy. 

            “Indeed,” Kaelimine replied as he rose to clasp his visitor’s hand.  Briefly, he wondered if Iaarnen, like Analaeia’s father and uncle, had completely ignored the memory that he had once tried to kill Kaelimine.  Ti’lan shut the door to the office and stood by the door.  Iaarnen moved toward Kaelimine and they shared a brief clasp of hands, an impersonal motion that Ti’lan did not miss. 

            “When they told me it was you who was Captain of the Wingéd Riders, Kaelimine, I was somewhat…surprised,” Iaarnen said sardonically.  Kaelimine remembered keenly that both of them had been interested in a commission with the Wingéd Riders, but Kaelimine had scored higher on his exit evaluation from the Academy, and had been offered the coveted commission first.  It was no wonder that Iaarnen was quick to bring it up.

            Kaelimine raised a slender eyebrow.  “I have been Captain several years here now.  Nearly a decade, if memory serves.  It may be that I am the more surprised to see you Captain, Iaarnen.  I trust your temper has cooled?” 

            Iaarnen ignored the comment.  “That’s quite the interesting design you’re sporting on your face these days.  I must say I hardly recognized you.  I was not aware that the Wingéd Riders had seen any combat in recent years.” 

            Out of the corner of his eye Kaelimine saw Ti’lan raise his eyebrows, shocked at the outright remark.  The comment was not altogether outrageous to Kaelimine, as he had heard comments of the same sort made before, but it nonetheless unsettled him.  He looked away for a moment, resisting the urge to glower at the elf.

            “No, we have seen no combat,” he replied evenly.  “Just a very unfortunate accident on my part.”

            “My sympathies,” Iaarnen said.  His insincerity was blatantly obvious.  Kaelimine chose not to respond, only nodded his head, eager already to have Iaarnen out of his office.  He had always been a pretentious, arrogant elf, and Kaelimine could see that time had not changed that fact. 

            “Well, Iaarnen.  Brooks Dell is quite the distance from Cairndale, I can hardly imagine that you made the ride simply to trade banter with me,” Kaelimine said. 

            “Ever the pragmatist,” Iaarnen quipped.  Then he pulled in a breath.  “Perhaps you have heard of the growing conflict in the north?” 

            Kaelimine raised his eyebrows, and glanced at Ti’lan before responding.  Ti’lan, too, showed by his expression that he was uninformed of the event, and shrugged his shoulders.  “I had not.”  He did think it peculiar that he had not heard anything; usually any budding military conflict was heard of quickly by the Riders.

            “Mongrels and thieves, mercenaries, have been attacking the people in small bands.  They attack the outlying communities close to my own; soon they will break the mainland.  So far they have sent small groups to attack the smallest of settlements.  The attacks seem random, sparing even, but we fear that they will soon attack in greater numbers.  They are organized, but hardly deadly at this point.  They seem to be more of an annoyance than anything else.” 

            Kaelimine was not surprised to learn of this tactic.  Brooks Dell was far to the north of Cairndale, and was to some extent inhabited by wandering nomads who, during the summer months, settled on the open plains several miles from the town square.  Brooks Dell itself was barricaded by a large wall around the city, outside of which was open land.

“I am sorry to hear that,” Kaelimine said, sincerely.  “But if they have yet to attack with any organized forces, what is it you need from us?”

“I am requesting your attendance at a forum to determine exactly how much force we should muster.  So that, in the event that we do declare open fighting, you may know personally how many forces you might bring to our aid,” Iaarnen said.

Kaelimine looked at him curiously. Ti’lan approached the two—he was, after all, the second-in-command and had some consideration in what the Riders did.  Iaarnen glanced at him briefly, derisively almost, but then looked back at Kaelimine. 

“I request only your presence, and perhaps that of some of your highest officers, to come to Brooks Dell to see the extent of the situation for yourself.” 

Kaelimine refrained from giving an answer for some time.  His memories of Iaarnen were dark ones, and he could think of no decent reason why he would ask him for help, unless he was truly in dire need.  From their last meeting alone, Kaelimine had assumed that Iaarnen would not have wanted anything to do with him unless he was the last person available.  He finally looked at Ti’lan, his eyes asking a silent, Well? 

Ti’lan offered no objections, only said, “You will have to seek an audience with the King as soon as possible; he must know our plans.”  He said the words almost tentatively, knowing Kaelimine’s aversion to any interaction with King Taemar.  It was his duty, though, to inform the King when the Riders were taking leave of the city.  There was no way around it.

The Captain looked back at Iaarnen and said, “Tomorrow, then, I shall speak with the King and inform him of our plans.  Our departure will be delayed, however.  I have a new officer arriving tomorrow and I should prefer to wait for him.”

“Understandable,” Iaarnen said, offering a slight smile.  “We will be anticipating your arrival in Brooks Dell, then.” 

            Kaelimine turned to the table behind him to retrieve writing utensils.  There were a few moments of silence in which Ti’lan studied the lanky, golden-haired Captain.  Something about him did not bode well with the younger elf.  He inwardly shook his head and looked away.

Suddenly, Iaarnen said, “Tell me, is she close to you?” 

            Ti’lan shot his gaze immediately back to Iaarnen.  Kaelimine turned back, appearing somewhat surprised to hear the question.  “Excuse me?”

            “The beauty I saw you with outside.  Is she close?”

            A moment of silence passed.  Kaelimine flicked his gaze briefly to Ti’lan, who appeared to have bit the inside of his lips in an effort to keep quiet, and then looked back again at Iaarnen. 

            “Yes, actually,” he said finally, his voice quiet. 

            “I never recall you making mention of having the desire to give your heart to anyone, all those years ago.  In fact I remember you were quite adamant with your studies and training above anything else.” 

            Kaelimine regarded Iaarnen briefly.  “Time changes many things, Captain.”

The elf flashed a slight smile.  “Of course,” he paused and then took in a breath, as though a thought had come to him.  “A dangerous position to be in, if I may say so.” 

Ti’lan cleared his throat.  Kaelimine only stared at the elf before him, his eyes asking the question. 

“Something that needs to be said, I believe.  A man in your position must be constantly aware of his duty to country above all else.  Going into battle with a family behind him is a frightful position to find one’s self in, I would imagine.” 

            Kaelimine swallowed and glanced down at the parchment in his hand briefly before continuing.  “I think that’s a risk I’m willing to consider, Captain,” he said finally.  Ti’lan crossed his arms and watched Iaarnen, but the elf showed no outward response, only smiled in appeasement.

            “Of course,” he said quietly. 

            Kaelimine knew what the Captain was doing.  He, Iaarnen, knew that Kaelimine had made a decision and would not back down from it—Iaarnen was simply stoking the fire to elicit some sort of base reaction out of Kaelimine, knowing that he could not revoke his decision.  It was a tactic he had seen before.

            “Brooks Dell, then,” he said quietly, raising his eyebrows.  “We will be arriving in several days’ time.” 

            “Excellent.  We shall be waiting,” Iaarnen said.  Then he nodded to both Kaelimine and Ti’lan, and turned to go.  The elf in the corner offered no parting salutations, only followed his Captain out of the office. 

            After a moment, Ti’lan said, “I sense a long-lost rivalry.” 

            Kaelimine snorted and turned to the window, crossing his arms over his chest.  “We trained together at the Academy in Aldemar.  A rivalry is not exactly the word I would use to describe it.”

            “Has he always been so pompous?”

            Kaelimine nodded.  “Pretentious, arrogant, foolhardy…I have a hard time believing he is actually a Captain.  He hardly showed the aptitude for it when last I saw him, not to mention the fact that he attempted to kill me just before we both graduated.”

            Ti’lan raised his eyebrows, almost horrified.  “He wanted to kill you?”

            “He failed, obviously…one more thing he did not have the ability to complete correctly…he was insanely jealous that I won the commission with the Riders.”

            “Why did you agree to help him, then?”  Ti’lan asked. 

            This elicited a sigh from Kaelimine; he ran a hand over his face as he glanced out at the darkening field outside.  “Because I know him, and I know he would not come begging for help unless he sincerely needed it.”  He paused.  “Actually, I feel that things must be dire indeed, for he wanted nothing to do with me last we spoke.”

            “There is no pride in diplomacy,” Ti’lan reminded him. 

            “That is true,” Kaelimine said, and then sighed.  It was possible that the situation just happened to work out the way it did—Iaarnen may have simply run out of allies closer, and the next on the list was the Wingéd Riders, or so it would seem.  “Very well.  The decision is made.”  He moved to the corner and took up his sword, then beckoned Ti’lan to join him.

            The sooner he could be done with the drill, the sooner he could get home.

~*~

            Kaelimine gazed at Analaeia across the room, where she was sitting upon a couch, hands covering her face.  One hand, the one that had suffered the crow’s attack, was bandaged.  She was trying to hide the troubled tears that were welling in her eyes.

            “A voice?  In your head?”  he said again.  He had been unable to grasp hold of Analaeia’s story of the event with the crow earlier that evening, and he knew his lack of understanding was frustrating for her—mostly because she probably didn’t understand herself.

            “Calling my name,” Analaeia said.  Her voice sounded constricted, as though she were fighting tears.  “I sat here all night trying to understand why, but…I can’t.” 

            Her husband sighed and leaned against the counter and crossed his arms over his chest.  He was trying desperately to think of something prudent to say, but he could think of nothing.  He let the moment pass.  Outside it was raining a quiet summer rain, pattering against the small window behind his head.  For a few minutes there was an uncomfortable silence in the house.  He knew Analaeia was upset by what had happened that day, and he had no words of comfort for her, because he didn’t know what had happened, either.  Presently, out of the corner of his eye he saw Analaeia move her hands away from her face, wiping at her eyes as she did so.

            “Who was your visitor?”  she asked finally. 

            Kaelimine finally broke his stance and looked up at the ceiling, recalling the visit from Iaarnen.  He had almost forgotten about it, or at least had put it to the back of his mind when he arrived at home.  Iaarnen and his party had left shortly following their meeting, and Kaelimine and the Riders had gone on with their drill as planned.

            “A Captain Iaarnen from Brooks Dell,” he said finally, his voice heavy. 

            Analaeia looked across the room and regarded her husband for some time.  “You seem displeased.” 

            “He and I were classmates once, and we departed on terms that were…less than pleasant.  I had honestly hoped never to see him again.  It seems to be an unhappy circumstance that has brought him here,” Kaelimine replied.  Analaeia was silent, waiting for him to continue.  Kaelimine finally shook his head.  “I should not worry so.”  He looked back across the room at Analaeia.  “He has asked my attendance at a…quorum, in Brooks Dell.  Apparently they…they have recently been under some slight attack, and if need be he will ask for the assistance of the Riders, but I suppose he wants me to come and see the situation for myself.”  He paused, noting Analaeia’s clouded expression at his words.  “And so, tomorrow I must seek an audience with the King, and as soon as possible I must depart for Brooks Dell.  My new officer also arrives tomorrow, which puts the whole situation at rather an inconvenient time.” 

            Analaeia did not reply for some time.  Then, “How long will you be gone?” 

            Kaelimine shrugged honestly.  “As long as needed, I imagine.  Though I can not see my absence being more than a week, if I am only to be attending this discussion of his.”  He looked at Analaeia and frowned.  “You are worried.”

            She shook her head slowly.  “Why should I be worried?” she asked honestly.  “It is not as if you are going to fight.” 

            Kaelimine regarded her for a moment and then looked away.  He had in fact considered it a very likely possibility that he would see combat of some sort.  Analaeia frowned.  She had only seen him so torn once before, and that was just before the incident with Tyaro.  She knew that his hesitance was not a good sign.  He did not have to say the words; she knew what he was thinking.  After a moment she rose from her seat and swiftly crossed the room to him and put her arms around her husband, stepping into his embrace and resting her head against his chest.  She closed her eyes. 

            Kaelimine rested his chin on her head and hugged her close.  “I hate to leave you,” he whispered. 

            Analaeia was silent for a moment.  She opened her eyes and stared at the floor, trying to think of something to say.  “If it is your duty, then you must go,” she replied.  Kaelimine sighed quietly.  He knew she was right.  Part of him was resenting Captain Iaarnen for bringing up the subject of leaving his family behind, and part of him knew he was right.  He had duty to both his country and his wife, and to put one above the other was a difficult decision. 

            Analaeia was careful to close her eyes against the tears that were suddenly welling there.  She listened to the rain outside the window, tapping rhythmically against the paned window, and felt the throbbing pain in her palm. 

            The only thing that mattered was the moment.  She was grateful at least that the mysterious voice within her head was prudently silent once more.