Tallah [Book 3 Complete]

"We bloody knew where you were, you dolt. Do you think us incapable of keeping track of an asset as costly as you? Did you think going off without warrant or order was going to be ignored? Has it ever entered that thick, flat-eared skull of yours that there are far more important things in play than whatever bloody farce Cinder sent you off on? Oh, yes, we knew it was Cinder that sent you here. Who else could've? You were give a simple job to kill one cockroach, and you fumbled it. It was no great feat of imagination to see she's gotten into your head. There's plenty of room in it—"

On and on the berating went. Quistis was surprised the aelir'rei found the space to draw breath between the onslaught of insults she was heaping onto Falor.

Quistis tried to open her mouth and say something but Yriea pointed a lighting-wreathed finger in her direction, the crackle and buzz of power an impossible to ignore warning. There was little love from the empress's heart sister towards the Storm Guard on the best of days, and this didn't look to be one of those for anyone.

Quistis had been in the same room as Yriea twice before.

The first had been when Quistis had just been assigned to the Storm Guard after serving with the Drack auxiliary seventh horde for a good five seasons. It had been like seeing the goddess in the flesh as the aelir'rei swept through the gathered soldiers at the ceremony, her beauty the stuff of legends, her power a constant crackle in the air. Compared to her, the empress had looked barbaric even in her fine white regalia.

The second had been when Falor had picked Quistis for his cell during the emergency response to the Cinder incident of Valen. Yriea had acted unconcerned about the attack and cracked jokes at Adjunct Leah about how sending Falor was the equivalent of a bolt of lightning summoned to scythe down a stalk of wheat.

Both times the aelir'rei had been aloof and mostly disinterested in the goings on of the Storm Guard. But her temper, even then, was the stuff that legends were spun out of, its ignition held back by the thinnest thread of patience. Since those moments, Quistis had been within earshot of shouting matches between Yriea and Falor. Those could go on for bells on end unless someone like the Adjunct were to step in and disarm tempers.

The Adjunct wasn't her, unfortunately. And Falor was doing his best not to answer the stream of invective with one of his own.

Quistis realised she was gaping and shut her mouth just as Yriea's cold, amber eyes swept over her. The gaze was electric and the frown a match for any of Falor's blackest.

"Where's the big one?" Yriea snarled at Falor, interrupting the insults for just a breath.

If not for the swell of her belly, she would've come chest to chest with Falor, and even if the commander was a full head taller than she, her presence towered.

"Barlo's scouting outside." Falor wouldn't meet her eyes, his own slipping down to stare at the very pronounced pregnancy bump.

If that's what it is.

A horrid image passed through Quistis's mind, of men writhing in agony as something grew inside them and ate its way out. Was… Could that…

"Why's your pet staring at me?" Yriea demanded. "And why are you?"

As if reading Quistis's horrid imagination, Falor blanched. "Your… err…" He fumbled for words, evidently as horrified as she was.

Quistis forced down the lump in her throat. "We saw men—" She faltered. How to even say something of the sort? "Men that had burst. Something had slithered out. Your… are you… pregnant?"

The aelir'rei's eyes widened for a heartbeat, then her expression hardened into flint, a hand pressed to her belly. "I carry the heir of households Calhad and Gallhan. You will not speak of her in the same breath as of Ort's parasites."

A collective breath was released that moment. Still, this was hardly the place for a pregnant woman, and especially one that looked like she was due at any time.

"If you knew where I was coming," Falor said, now finally meeting Yriea's eyes, "then you would've know I'd be back once I had the proof I needed."

He swept his eyes around the room and, for the first time, so did Quistis.

The warden's office was empty. No books. No ledgers. The shelves lay empty and were caked with dust and grime. Cobwebs spun among the ancient furnishings, disturbed only by the breeze of their breaths. A single set of footsteps cut through the thick dust on the floor, coming in from an opposite door.

"Or was I not supposed to find this?" Falor asked, his temper chilling suddenly.

Yriea only scoffed. "What you were supposed to do was follow your orders and return to Aztroa. There's work that needs doing and you're not at your post. Your mother asked me to fetch you, that's how grave the situation." She poked him in the chest, their combined lightning sending sparks flying in all directions.

This had the making of a full-blown argument brewing between them. Quistis swallowed, then coughed as politely as she could. Amber and black eyes turned her way. "This might not be the best moment for all of this." In spite of everything, she kept her composure. "We found a strange creature in the sewers. And there's the matter of those that have passed the gates. We're all in danger."

"At least your pet has the sense that you lack." Yriea did not back down. "The work here can handle itself. Ort's little toys can't penetrate the deeper facility. Now that I've my hands on you, we can return to Aztroa. My guards hold the gate."

"Where are the prisoners, Yriea?" Falor took a step towards her. His shoulders were slumped and his head lowered, face a mask of anger. "I will not move a step until I understand what happens here."

In the cramped room their light was turning blinding. Blue-white coils of power covered them both as Yriea squared her shoulders and raised her chin in defiance. "I can unmake you, eidolon. Do not test me." She bit off the words, eyes flickering in Quistis's direction for a heartbeat as if some secret had escaped her lips.

Eidolon? What is an eidolon? Maybe a secret had just escaped.

Falor was undaunted as he took another step, pushing Yriea back with his bulk alone. "You and what army, lady aelir'rei? My mother's not here." She drew breath to answer but stopped with a shudder as he raised a hand and gripped her shoulder. With a sharp shove, he moved her aside as if she weighed nothing. "Move, or be moved. It's all the same to me."

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"Captain?" Vial's voice elicited a squeak out of Quistis. Like her, his eyes were glued to what was the highest insult Falor could bestow on the aelir'rei. "Umm, who do we… follow?"

"Him." Quistis didn't even need to think on the answer. "Always him." She began weaving her barriers, though she didn't yet know what to do with them. Shield herself and Vial? Separate the two metal minds? Bar Yriea's way?

Possibilities swirled in her mind but one thing was clear: the commander had chose to clash rather than obey. This would spell terrible things for all of them come their return to Aztroa.

A thick lump formed in her throat at the next thought. If we ever return to Aztroa. The possibility of their death had not even entered her mind up to this very moment as she saw Yriea's inhumanly large eyes narrow to glittering slits, her golden skin turning the colour of dark honey as her anger rose.

"Why were you in here?" she heard herself ask. "If you knew he was here, why were you waiting in here?"

That only deepened the shade of anger on Yriea's face and neck. And now that the light was strong enough, Quistis could see more details. The aelir'rei's skin was grimy with blood spatter and dust, her clothes were ripped, one of her sleeve hung off her shoulder, the stitching come undone. Even her hair was in disarray, elegant curls sprouting haphazard strands of golden hair.

"You're not in control of the situation. Commander, don't open that door."

Falor had his hand already wrapped around the door's handle. In the next heartbeat the door shattered, a forest of arms, hands and fingers crowding through the wreckage. They grabbed his jacket's front and yanked him outward. He resisted for a brief moment, then was ejected from the room into whatever lay beyond.

"On her!" Quistis shoved Vial to Yriea. "Defend her." She wove as fast as she could. First, a barrier to defend the aelir'rei and the soldier as he took up his position, sword aimed at the boiling door. Then one for herself. She anchored both to whatever beam she could spy in the room, making the supports as strong as she could,

Heads poked through the door, faces that were little more than gaping maws filled with teeth and wriggling beetles.

She doubled the barriers just in time to hear the whistle from the room beyond. She dove behind the nearest dust-laden desk.

A crack of thunder so loud that it sent the room shaking and the dust swirling up into a fine mist. Quistis caught a glimpse of Vial throwing himself at a stunned Yriea, his arms raised to shield her face from what was coming. Then she shut her eyes and opened her mouth.

Even behind the desk and barrier, she felt the concussive force of Falor's counterattack. The floor bucked with the first shock, then cracked with the second. Things howled outside the room, gurgled, died. Wood snapped and shattered. Ancient shelves clattered to the floor. She almost crawled fully beneath the desk and clamped her hands over her ears.

When the world stopped shaking, she drew in a breath and choked on the dust, breaking into a fit of aggressive coughing.

"Vial…" she croaked as she tried to rise. Wood debris was everywhere. In places even the stone of the walls had cracked.

"Here, captain. All good." Vial sneezed twice and Quistis could find him in the chaos. "My apologies, Your Grace," the soldier went on. "Hope it doesn't hurt too bad."

"Get off me, cretin." The aelir'rei pushed past Vial, shaking the dust off her, only to be stopped by Quistis's barrier. "Get this down, healer. I will not be corralled like some animal."

You're welcome, Your Ladyship. Little wonder Falor dreads having to deal with you.

Quistis did as instructed in time for Falor to peek back into the room. Gore spattered him from head to toe, dripping off him in chunks.

"Everyone all right?"

His eyes rested on Quistis and she nodded. Yes, all was well, even if Yriea looked ready to continue her verbal sparring.

Falor shook blood and teeth out of his hair and Quistis picked her way to him. He wasn't hurt aside from scratches and cuts. The blood didn't look to be coming out of him.

"We're heading in deeper," he declared as Yriea waddled her way to him. "If the cages are the same, I'll be satisfied."

"Commander," Vial spoke up for the first time. The soldier gestured with his arms at the room, spinning slightly in place. "Do you really need more proof? This place ain't no prison. It's barely a ruin." He pointed a finger at the aelir'rei. "And she knows what's what. Just ask her."

"Can't say I disagree," Quistis said. "I don't think there are any prisoners here."

But there had been soldiers. There were corpses in the courtyard. They'd smelled them at least. Something existed in Drak's Perch, but was it worth the trouble of digging deeper?

"Something's drawing those things here." Falor hefted his hammer. "I'd say to go regroup with the others, but I've only thinned their numbers." He stomped heavily on a broken arm that was trying to crawl away. "I will get to the bottom of this."

"You will not do anything of the sort," Yriea demanded. "You are coming with me."

"No." Falor's answer had the note of finality. "Even if you could unmake me, as you say, you'd be stuck here with these monsters. And you haven't been doing so well so far."

For the men, Yriea's grimace may have been invisible. Just a twitch of her eye, then an easing of the fine lines of her face. But Quistis had noticed. The way the aelir'rei held herself, the subtle twitches of pain, the small gasps in each intake of breath.

"Are you in labour?" she asked, the full extent of the situation dawning on her. She hadn't noticed for all the dust and blood, but Yriea's robes were blood stained and wet. Quistis's eyes went wide. "You're in labour. Goddess. Why are you even out here?"

It took some heartbeats for Yriea's scowl to ease. "Cat asked for my help. We knew you were in the area, so I came here by shard. Found a siege instead. Lost three of my guards in the first clash." She allowed herself to lean against the wobbling ruin of a wall while outside they could all hear the frantic sounds of things digging through Falor's devastation. "I've been fighting for two days straight and looking for you. And been carrying my daughter for six seasons. She's chosen a fine time to be born, and a finer place still."

Oh. Oh, that was bad.

An aelir's pregnancy could be quite long, but six seasons… Quistis felt her knees tremble at the prospect.

"We need to get you out of here. I'm… I'm no midwife."

"I don't need a midwife." The aelir'rei pushed herself back to her feet proper. "I just need to lie down."

"The shard room is overrun." She drew in so much illum that Quistis could feel the ambient charge drop. "Between us, we can get back control. My guard captain has our shards. Vacrion should still be alive, if we can find him."

"How'd you get separated?" Quistis asked. She slit open her rend and rummaged about. "I have a light sedative, you need. Shouldn't hurt the baby."

Yriea waved away the concern as she walked out, followed closely by Vial. Falor caught Quistis's eyes. She staggered under the weight of what she saw in that liquid black stare. Like the world had come undone for him and it had all fallen on his shoulders.

"Falor…"

He shook his head and hefted his hammer. "She didn't lie," was all he said before he followed after Yriea and Vial, his electricity lighting the dark beyond the door. Quistis was left to follow, her sprite hovering dim high above.

Part of her hated everything that sprung to mind in the moment. Part of her rejoiced.

I can tell him the truth. Will he listen? Or will he shatter? What's an eidolon?

The questions swirled and she hesitated before following. This was not the moment, but her heart sang out with prospect that she could tell him the truth. Or part of it. It all quickly deflated as they exited from the warden's small keep into the fortress proper.

Two channellers stood to face a horde of the dead that now also had weapons. In a deserted prison, at the ass-end of nowhere, soldiers had been stationed and very well armed. Now all those blades were pointed at them.