Fate of the Fallen Read online

  The young woman smiled at Isabelle.

  “Hi, my name is Ellie and he,” Ellie pointed over Isabelle's shoulder, “is my friend. You can trust him, he won't eat you.” She finished with a laugh.

  Isabelle turned slowly and saw something she did not understand, or even knew existed. She looked straight into the swirling eyes of a large red dragon.

  “Hello.” It said softly. “I didn't mean to scare you. My name is Cole.”

  Isabelle fainted.

  *

  Isabelle awoke to the soft echoes of voices. A blanket had been draped over her and a fire crackled and popped a short distance away, making her feel warm and safe. In her half asleep state she drowsily reasoned that the previous three days had caught up with her and she had collapsed, causing her wild imaginings and hallucinations of dragons and strangers in odd clothing. The feeling of embarrassment, of having to put her mother through so much trouble, roused Isabelle further, but she had to admit she was glad of the rest.

  Lying there she clearly heard her mother's voice and felt comforted.

  “I won't come with you, Ellie. You know that. I want to live in the world, not hide away from it.”

  “What about Isabelle and the baby? I've argued with you on countless occasions about the dangers of these times. The hunts, the trials and executions.” Isabelle's eyes widened as she listened. The other voice continued. “You know how much I respect you for risking the danger to help people, but you can't do this with Isabelle and the baby.”

  The conversation halted for a long while, and Isabelle only heard the sound of the fire before her mother answered.

  “Very well, take the baby to safety. As for Isabelle? Well, she's old enough now to choose her own path. Every village I've encountered girls of her age and younger have been apprenticed off already.”

  “How is she?”

  “She has my gifts. In many ways she has surpassed me already, but the talent is raw.” Isabelle's mother chuckled. “In fact she's using one of the simpler gifts at the moment. Eavesdropping!”

  Isabelle cringed, her face becoming bright red as she pushed back the blanket and sat up. Her mother, and the stranger called Ellie that Isabelle had met in the woods, were sitting across the fire from each other. Isabelle cast a quick look around and saw they had taken refuge inside a cave. Ellie grinned at Isabelle who smiled back shyly.

  “How are you feeling, my darling?” Her mother asked. Isabelle nodded as she pushed herself to her feet and went to sit next to the fire.

  “I'm alright now.”

  Ellie leaned forward and Isabelle turned to meet her gaze. She was captivated by eyes that seemed very wise and old in such a young face. Those eyes, Isabelle thought, were much like her mother's in that they had seen so much.

  “I'm sorry if we scared you. Cole was scouting around to see if anyone was following you all. He can be terribly cautious.” Isabelle heard a strange sound from outside the cave and Ellie laughed. “And he says I'm too quick off the mark!” Isabelle's eyes were wide. She had still assumed the dragon hadn't been real. Ellie saw the look on the girl's face and moved around the fire to sit next to her.

  “It's a shock isn't it? But yes, you saw a dragon, my dragon. His name is Cole and I'm his rider.” Ellie saw Isabelle studying the clothes she wore. “These are my riding clothes, leather for the most part, and I doubt anyone around here has seen a woman in trousers before.”

  “But, but…” Isabelle spluttered, “Dragons aren't real. How, how, I mean….how?”

  Ellie gave Isabelle's mother a quick look, and she nodded her consent.

  “It's a long story, but we have all night.”

  Ellie made herself comfortable and began her story.

  *

  Isabelle looked up into the night sky as Ellie finished her story. They had moved outside the cave so her mother and the baby could rest, and that they could talk without interruptions.

  “What Cole and I didn't know, couldn't know is what Eridan asked the orb to do to us. We only found that out over the course of time.” Ellie prodded a finger into her chest. “Long life. Unnaturally long. We don't even know how much time we're here for.”

  Isabelle noticed that Ellie had finished her sentence in a near whisper, and she tried to contemplate what it must be like to live for so long. Feeling a little uncomfortable, Isabelle changed the subject.

  “An old man in the village told me that angels were looking down on us and protecting us.” Ellie looked at Isabelle and saw the girl pointing into the starry night. Ellie placed a hand on her shoulder.

  “That's a nice thought. But I think the real answer is more wondrous than that.”

  Isabelle moved her gaze from the stars to the profile of this strange woman.

  “Tell me.” Isabelle whispered.

  Ellie's eyes did not waver from the stars.

  “Those points of lights are stars. They're the same as our sun, though some are bigger and some are smaller. The light can take hundreds of thousands of years to reach us.” Ellie's voice dropped to a near whisper. “My father loved to look at the stars.” Ellie coughed and smiled down at Isabelle. “We're made from the same stuff as them.”

  Isabelle looked from the stars to Ellie and back again. Her head felt light as if she was drifting away. Her eyes focused on one bright star and she suddenly seemed to be racing towards it. She could see it! A large ball of white tumultuous fire, sending arcs and streamers of white fire out into the blackness. She turned and saw an immense cloud of dust and gas. Within it lights sparked and burned. Then a titanic eruption of light occurred, brighter than anything Isabelle had ever witnessed, and the dust blew away to reveal thousands upon thousands of bright stars stretching away into the black.

  Isabelle gasped and dropped to her knees. Ellie quickly crouched down beside her.

  “Are you okay?”

  Isabelle nodded, tears of joy streaming down her cheeks at what her gift had shown her. In the distance she heard a loud padding of paws upon the forest floor and looked up to see Cole, Ellie's magnificent dragon come into view. Rather than experiencing any of her earlier fears, Isabelle's mind and body felt awash with happiness.

  “May I be your friend?” she asked them both.

  Ellie placed an arm around Isabelle's shoulders and raised her hand towards Cole. The dragon responded by rubbing his maw against his rider's outstretched hand. Isabelle watched as Ellie stared unspeaking at Cole, and came to the conclusion they could communicate with their minds as she did with her mother. Cole snorted and rumbled deep within his chest, though it somehow sounded a contented rumble to Isabelle. Ellie turned to her and smiled warmly.

  “I think Cole and I may just be looking for an apprentice to help us in our work. Of course your mother would have to agree.”

  Isabelle's heart skipped and then pulsed hard with excitement against her chest.

  “I'm sure she would!” Isabelle looked over at Cole, suddenly overcome with a sense of shyness. “Would I be allowed to ride with you?”

  Cole laughed, sending a few clouds of smoke into the cool air.

  “I'm sure we can arrange that.” he said, and Isabelle smiled.

  “Isabelle, you have to understand, and your mother knows this already so it will effect her decision, that what Cole and I do can be dangerous.”

  Isabelle straightened up from her crouched position.

  “I understand.”

  The Old Lady

  The old lady sat at the window in her rocking chair, completely still. Anyone entering the room could've easily mistaken her for a shop mannequin, even her chest did not seem to rise and fall with the task of breathing. There was only one sign of life. Her long grey fingers gripped the arms of her chair so tight her skin appeared to be on the verge of splitting, it was under such tension.

  She stared, unblinking, through the bay window beyond her front garden to the street. Three children stood on the pavement looking at her house. They were pointing and laughing. In turn they would hide
their eyes and then dare each other to stare at the house for a period of time, before shielding their eyes once more. The old lady had perfect eyesight and through the laughter and screams, she could see one word being repeated again and again on the children's lips.

  “Witch!”

  Laughter.

  “Witch!”

  Screams.

  “She's a witch!”

  Her eyes narrowed and her mouth began to quiver with anger. The sound of cracking punctured the stillness of the house and the wood beneath her hands crumbled and fell to the floor in a dry pile of dust.

  “Control.” The voice said and she tried to relax. Deep, shaking breaths helped to calm her rapid, stuttering heartbeat. She closed her eyes and tilted her face towards the ceiling.

  “That's better. Too much danger out there still.” The voice cautioned. The old lady nodded and looked back down and out of the window. Three more youngsters had joined the original three on the pavement, though they were a few years older. The noises and gestures had stopped. She smiled at the intervention and then the tallest of the group turned to face her house. The old lady's mind screamed with grief and anguish.

  “It's her!” She fell from her chair onto her knees, sobbing into her hands.

  “No, it can't be. It's impossible.” The voice advised.

  “Yes, yes, yes.” The lady babbled, with each word she rocked forwards and back. A small line of drool escaped her mouth and slowly crawled its way to her chin. The sobbing subsided as dark thoughts began to emerge. Anger, loathing, revenge.

  “Please listen! The danger! They'll know we're here!” the voice tried again, but it was faint and slowly being drowned out by the crash and surge of hatefulness.

  The old lady crawled across the floor and despite the blistering heat of the day, she tossed firewood and newspaper into the fireplace and lit it. With a grimace of pain she levered herself up against the chimney breast and stood in front of the flames, the orange light flickering in her grey eyes. She studied small wooden boxes that were positioned on the mantelpiece above the fire, disregarding some, nodding slightly at others. She reached up and opened three, pinching small amounts of their contents and depositing them in her left palm. When satisfied she had enough of each the old lady began mixing them with her finger, the pupils of her eyes circling with it. When done with mixing she spat upon the drab concoction, causing a small puff of dust to rise. She smiled thinly and looked into the heart of the fire. She whispered to it, and the flames began to dance. While whispering she clasped her hands together and began to work the sodden mixture until it squeezed through her fingers. Done with the mixing, she kissed the tip of each finger and pressed them against her forehead. The fire, which had danced to the old lady's words before, now seemed to reach out of the fireplace towards her. Orange and red tendrils of heat, like bolts of lightning comprised of fire, shot towards her, seething and crackling as they did so. The intense orange and red flickering showed the woman's lips moving faster and faster. The flames responded and licked against her. She offered her dirty hands to the heat and flame. The flames responded instantly, as if afraid she would snatch them away at any instant, and engulfed the old woman's hands.

  The arms of her cardigan began to smoulder and char. In place of her hands were now two orange and golden balls of flame. The old woman took a deep breath, her eyes now alive with anticipation and desire, and held it. Closing her eyes, she faced the ceiling once again and opened her mouth. The fire responded instantly, writhing up her arms and shoulders, wrapping itself around her neck like a deadly scarf. The fire had moved completely from the fireplace and onto the woman. It continued slower now, sending questing tendrils of heat up her neck and then onto her face. Fingers of heat probed her mouth and finding it open, slithered in. The remaining flame followed swiftly. As the last few whipping orange flames entered her mouth the old woman closed it, sealing the heat in. Her clothes were scorched and hung loosely from her body, but her skin was unharmed. The pressure held within her body caused her to start shaking violently and the vibrations travelled around the room, causing shelves to creak and windows to rattle. The old woman lowered herself into the fireplace and placed her head upon the hot coals of the dead fire. She looked up into the darkness of the chimney and grinned tightly, expelling the fire in one titanic breath.

  The girl's story

  The day before the girl found the pen in her bedroom was exactly the same as the previous one. Not in detail but in emotion, it was ruled by pain and despair.

  She rose early with the pale grey light that filled the sky all day, every day, and perched on the edge of her bed. To the best of her knowledge, which was limited, she had always done so. The girl sat rigid but examined the room with anxious eyes, always seeking something. Again, she had always done so. The room itself was bare so she could think of no reason that she would do this. The bed was the only piece of furniture, and the walls were dull and lifeless. Even if they were painted a bright colour, the grey light would leech and sap it away.

  The girl's searching eyes came to a stop as the distant, sad toll of a bell rang out. She reached down and without looking, slipped on her shoes. Standing, she left the room quietly and entered the hallway where she stopped beside the front door. The girl opened it but did not leave, and simply stared blankly at the grey bushes and trees in the garden. Everything was still and quiet, with not even a slight breath of wind to stir the leaves or grass. Each morning spent watching this lifeless view was another morning the girl had to resist the temptation to squeeze her hands against her ears, mash them hard against her head and scream. Anything to break the silence of the morning. But that wouldn't be allowed. She would be punished.

  The dull chime returned and she took a deep breath. She stepped out of the house, closed the door and entered the grey world. As she walked slowly down the street she heard the front doors of neighbouring houses being opened. Then footsteps would thud in the stillness as people would walk to the pavement to witness her day's journey beginning. She never looked back, never met their gaze or spoke to them. That wasn't allowed.

  Her mind wandered listlessly as she stared unseeing at the road before her. No one thought came to prominence as her murky mind swirled with despair, pity and sometimes anger. Many times she had focused her thoughts hard and desperately on escape as soon as she woke in the morning, but the march up the road and the day that would follow simply crushed it into nothing, as if two hands were screwing up the paper ball of her mind. So she had given in, defeated and weary. But it would not end, for whatever reason she was here crushing her mind and spirit seemed to be just the beginning.

  The girl reached her destination, her body trembling and eyes wide with fear. Hands fell upon her shoulders and spun her to face the way she had come, the one road back through the village. A harness was slipped onto her shoulders and a belt cinched at her waist. Chains were attached to both and pulled backwards, causing her to stumble slightly as she was hitched to her load. The chains fell slack and the girl felt the steady tug of them hanging behind her off the ground. The bell rang again, for the final time of the day. It was a signal for her to start moving. She leaned forward, face contorted, the muscles in her shoulders, legs and stomach squeezing so tight she always feared they would rip away from her body. She moved forward an inch and then another, and she began dragging the tree trunk behind her.

  *

  The girl grunted and then whimpered in pain as the harness dug into her shoulders. She was leaning forward at such an angle that if the chains suddenly snapped, she would crash violently to the road, her arms and hands useless to protect her. Sweat coursed down her face, making her hair hang in limp strands before her eyes. It took too much effort to wipe the sweat away and flick her hair back. The trunk rasped down the road behind her, a few inches at a time.

  All the villagers were now outside their homes to watch her torment as she made her way slowly through the village. Though surrounded, she felt totally alone. These peopl
e were observers, nothing more. She had discovered that if she gave up walking or didn't achieve her destination by nightfall, the villagers would be punished. The only resolve that glimmered in her mind happened when she passed by those houses, where nobody was standing and never would again. The girl would not fail them again. Whenever that emotion arose, no matter how brief in passing, she felt like a different person, one who was strong and capable. At these times she would imagine someone in front pulling the tree trunk along with her, but when she glanced up there was just the grey road, and pain would strip that strong person from her mind.

  The day passed with trembling muscles and cries of agony as cramp encased her shoulders and legs. But on she continued, tears streaming down her face to her journey's end. As with most days the girl was unaware of when she had reached her goal, her mind a thick fog, impenetrable. She did not feel the chains and harness being unhooked. A pair of hands caught her before she collapsed to the ground and she was hoisted over someone's shoulders and carried away. Only once had she been lucid enough to look up to where she had brought the tree trunk, and she had vowed never to look again. But no matter how tired she was, the memory would reveal itself with sparkling clarity and she cried at the thought of the massive wooden pyre being constructed.

  *

  Something was wrong or different. It was dark and the girl was awake. Normally after being carried back home and placed in her bed, she would sleep until morning. But this time she was alert, certain that something or someone was in the room with her. She heard a small creak and held her breath, fear instantly immobilising the rest of her body. Her heart slammed so hard it gently rocked her body against the mattress. The room was silent now, but the girl remained still. The blanket started to become heavy and hot. Sweat from the fear and heat was becoming unbearable. The room was silent. Shortly the girl's breathing calmed and she flipped the blanket away from her body, sighing in relief at the cool air. The girl shook her head at this strange occurrence and eventually slipped back to sleep.