Fall

Atlas

A knock on the door revealed a friendly face.

“Congratulations!” Thorn’s falcon shot into Linden’s house.

Atlas ducked, then retreated to the table. “How nice to see you, friend.”

“You’ve gained the respect of many of us.” Thorn was radiant. He nodded to Milla. “You, especially.”

Milla pet June to hide her face. “It was a group effort.”

Skye understood the excitement in the air, if not the Chestic language. “So we did win!”

“The North is still in danger,” Atlas corrected her quickly in Elben. If there is still a North.

I’m sure Asher wouldn’t let his kingdom fall without us, Hudson said.

It reminded Atlas of their seclusion in the South. He suddenly felt worried. If something were wrong, a messenger would come.

If it made it through the desert. If it made it past bandits.

We have to leave, Atlas thought. We’ve stayed too long.

Hudson agreed. We will gather our allies, and head to the North.

Linden spoke to her uncle. “How many have pledged their towns to the North?”

“Seventeen. Quite a feat,” Thorn said.

Seventeen out of twenty-four. Atlas whistled. It was quite a feat. He hadn’t even been sure they had gotten half of the mayors’ support, despite the smiles at the table.

“We are meeting again this afternoon. I hope to see you there.” Thorn was still in the main hall, not yet to Linden’s kitchen where the rest of them sat. He went back to the doorway as his fera switched shoulders.

He turned, his glazed eyes sweeping over them all. “The ones who are not on your side are on Jestin’s. I am on yours.”

Milla pursed her mouth. “The lines are drawn.”

“We will see you this afternoon,” Atlas assured Thorn.

The mayor gave a shallow bow. “You will.”

The questions and restlessness Atlas held made the morning go by at an agonizing pace. Milla and Linden finally sent him out to cool down.

You can’t “cool down” in a desert, Atlas grumbled.

Hudson, who was still inside, changed positions to get a more comfortable part of the stone floor. Why don’t you visit the bay?

No. Too crowded, Atlas said.

The market?

Crowded as well.

The… Hudson fumbled for a place to name. There were few choices in this city. They must still have the great tent up.

It’s being prepared for the meeting—the one this afternoon. Why don’t you come out? Atlas asked.

Hudson arched a thick eyebrow. I’m not the one who was kicked out of the house.

You’re apart of me, so that means you were.

Linden and Milla seem perfectly fine with me here, Hudson rumbled contently.

You’re a lazy sack of bones, Atlas said.

Hudson yawned. Good try. I can tell you don’t mean it. Let me rest until the meeting at least.

Fine. Atlas stood with a swirl of sand. He bit back further bitterness, and went to walk the streets of Chesa.

His steps were aimless, at first, but he soon found himself at the business section of Chesa. Then the market. Then the stall closest to the bay.

“Ah! You caught me just before I went out again. I’m getting such good coin, I’m hardly at the booth long enough to sell it.” The fishmonger flashed a smile.

“That’s great, friend.” Atlas returned the smile. He clicked a piece of silver on the table. “This is for your help the other day.”

The fishmonger pat his exposed stomach. It was flat, with the start of a bulge, instead of sunken in. “Don’t need it. We’ve been eating like kings.” His cat fera rounded the corner of a post, purring.

“Save it for when the tourists leave,” Atlas insisted.

“You forced my hand.” The fishmonger took the coin off the table. He peered at Atlas. “Now that the main hubbub’s over, are you leaving?”

“There’s a meeting this afternoon…” Atlas trailed off. “After that, we’ll see.”

The fishmonger quickly ducked, and rose to let something heavy fall on the table. “Well, consider this a farewell gift.”

Atlas looked at the wrapped fish, and chuckled. “Thank you, friend.”

“Heh, heh,” the fishmonger laughed. “Have fun in your travels.”

A few minutes later, Atlas offered the fish at the door. “There isn’t a password to get in now, is there?”

Milla’s eyes were alight in mirth. “The fish should suffice. For now.”

Kane

The further the Norther Mountains were, the more worried King Asher’s letters became. They demanded updates and schedule records Kane hadn’t even lived through yet.

You think he was my mother, Kane said.

They were deep in Western territory now, riding the fine boundary line between a large procession on their side, and trespassing on another.

Spies were following them, that much was certain. The bright eyes in the darkness and occasional glimpse of green or red in the day confirmed it, but the spies stayed far back from the rear guard’s vitrum weapons.

Thea could be providing some of the questions, Flint chuckled.

Truth be told, Thea was probably still trying to organize a rally to find Kit. Kane hoped she succeeded in finding a lead while he was away.

They were all away, Kane thought. Atlas in the South, Thea in Elbe, he riding the line of the North and West, and Kit… Somewhere. Alive.

Kane went down the checklist on the fluttering page in his hand. “Rear guard count.”

“Unchanged,” Homer said beside him. He kept a steady pace with Kane’s horse.

“Overall head count.”

“Unchanged. Wait,” Homer paused. “There was a deserter last night. Caught, and being returned to Elbe with an escort of two. So that means we’re out three soldiers.”

Kane put a small -3 to Elbe, on the page. It had taken him nearly this long to perfect the multitasking of writing and riding. “Okay. So that gives me an idea of the moral.”

Homer confirmed this with a nod. “Slightly low.”

“Are they afraid of the West? The East?” Kane scratched his head. He looked over the mass of blue around them. A true sea of bodies.

“Some are conflicted about the idea of going on the offense… of leaving Elbe.” Homer fidgeted nervously on his horse. But he didn’t have to worry about Kane’s opinion, he had circled the very same thoughts.

They will have to deal with the king then, Flint said.

Kane sighed. “I’ll put homesickness down. Last one for this morning,” he glanced at the checklist. “How is our progress?”

Homer pointed ahead to the center knot of the procession. Mule fera—both unbonded and bonded—were loaded with supplies and tents not carried on the backs of soldiers. It was hard to miss them. They appeared to be small, snow peaked mountains taking a leisurely stroll.

“That’s a question for Donovan,” Homer said.