The following morning they resumed their journey entering the great plain. The long dark tree trunks gave way to slim blades of grass, wet from morning dew and swept by a fresh and pleasant breeze. To the north Agatha could see the jagged teeth of a faraway mountain range. Maybe Kal or Ark knew its name, but she didn’t.
Around lunchtime, the flat horizon changed shape and gray shapes appeared, like man-made buildings.
«Is that Istak?» she asked her brother, walking beside her.
Kal stopped fidgeting with one shoulder of his new uniform and looked up.
«It can’t be.» He answered, as she noticed a tear on the seam of his sleeve. «We’re still far from it. They said it’ll take at least two weeks to get there.»
«That’s only a frontier village, kid.» said another watchman. «Probably there’s less people living there than there’s around us at this very moment. Anyway we’ll steer clear of it. The less we make ourselves known before we reach Istak, the better.»
Like the man had said, the column of refugees changed direction, deviating to the north as if to go around those gray buildings and those who inhabited them.
But even Agatha knew that it wasn’t possible to “hide” a hundred marching people, especially not in a wide open plain like that. If they had seen the village, chances were somebody in the village had seen them.
And that evening, as they set up their tents, Agatha saw them coming almost before the sentries did.
They weren’t many, ten at most. Almost none of them was armed. One held a lantern, shedding bluish light on the group. They were guided by an elderly man, dressed in a long red robe.
As the crowd gathered to see what was happening, the watchers drew their weapons and the elderly man stopped. Then he spoke, but Agatha couldn’t understand a single word that came out of his mouth. His speech was bizarre, alien, full of weird sounds that she’d have had trouble describing had someone asked her. At times he whistled between his teeth as if trying to imitate the rustling of leaves, other times he clicked his tongue making the noise of a small pebble falling in the water.
She found Kal and asked: «What on Earth is that man saying?»
He answered her: «I don’t know. They speak a different language here.»
«Another language?»
The watchers parted and the Exarch’s daughter appeared, followed by a young man with short hair. The latter spoke to the old man, talking in the same weird way.
He answered, and when he finished the young man turned to Helena Dorina and said: «He is Kesmetal, chief of the village of Malkisvor. He welcomes us in this land and asks us who we are.»
She tried to hide a sigh, then replied, looking at the old man: «We thank you for your reception, Kesmetal of Malkisvor. We assure you that we mean no harm, and that we will leave when morning comes. We are bound for Istak.»
Even before she was done speaking, the young man started speaking too, in a lower voice, while looking at the old man and using his strange language. Whether the man realized she hadn’t really answered his question or not, Agatha couldn’t say. Still, after that he nodded and spoke again. Maybe it was just her impression, but it seemed to her that his tone had changed from before.
«Forgive us, we have little food to offer you.» said the young man. «This year we’ve had a poor harvest, and we need most of it to…» a pause, as if to look for the right words «…pay the taxes, that our Noble Lord’s officials are here right now to collect. We are really sorry.»
«Worry not for us, we have our supplies.» Helena replied. «And we will take care to not be a cause of distress neither for you nor for the Noble Lord’s officials.»
Agatha wasn’t very close to the scene, but she was still pretty sure Helena and the old man exchanged a smile. And yet, neither seemed happy.
The elderly man left, followed by his retinue, and the Exarch’s daughter returned to her tent.
After the guards had dispersed the crowd and everyone retired for the night, Agatha in her cot thought back to the curious spectacle she had witnessed.
She had been taught that languages other than her own existed, but it was the first time she actually heard one.
And she realized that, until that moment, she had never really understood she wasn’t home anymore.
«Royal collectors.» Helena murmured, sitting on her blanket in her tent.
She had understood the message hidden in the village chief’s words: “if you attack us, you will find armed people defending us.” But since she never had any intention of attacking them, the matter that worried her was a different one.
«In a few days at best, Istak will know of our presence. And in their eyes, we will look like an invading army.»
«This was something I had not foreseen.» her father admitted. «I knew we would be sighted sooner or later, it was inevitable, but to arrive here right when the taxes are being collected is unfortunate.»
Ergon silently handed him a vial of medicine. The Exarch drank it in one go, then he resumed: «Still, everything is not yet lost. I do not believe the royal collectors will be all that eager to relieve themselves of part of their precious escort to sent a message to their lord, not in this border region so far away from their capital.»
«And how does this benefit us?» Helena rubbed her temples. «Unless they intend to stay here two whole weeks, they will still make their way back to Istak before us. Ergon, wait.»
The medic was about to leave the tent, but he stopped.
«Ergon, you were born in the Federation, were you not?»
She did not know the details, but she remembered the day that unusual man of many talents had come to offer his services to her father. His nationality had almost never been brought up in the Rook, Helena even doubted many knew he was not native of the Principate, but when he had offered to translate the village chief’s words for her, she had suddenly remembered that information.
«Yes, Helena Dorina.» he answered, in a vaguely fearful voice.
«Have no fear. I only wish to ask you if you can tell us anything about this territory. My father knows the lord Zamoshan because he met him during the Winter War, but he has never been in the Federation. Do you perchance know faster routes than the ones we have on our maps?»
«Forgive me.» Ergon shook his head. «I am from Enver, a long way to the east of here. This is the lordship of Shavek, I don’t know it any better than you.» Having said that, he left, as if he were more than glad of exiting that tent.
Once she and her father were alone, he said: «So, what do we do?»
Helena was surprised by his question, but she kept pondering as she already was. They would never reach Istak before the news of their presence, even in the most favorable conditions: a hundred people could not move faster than this.
However… was it really necessary for all a hundred of them to precede the news?
She felt foolish for not thinking it sooner.
«Father, you have told me that you know Zamoshan. How much do you know him?»
A glint in her father’s eyes told her he was expecting that question. «Less than I would like, but I know he is a man of great intelligence and understanding.»
«How great is this understanding? Should we write him a letter in which we explain our situation to him, would he read it, in your opinion?»
Her father answered without even having to think about it: «Oh, certainly.» He rose from the cushion he was sitting on, grabbed a pen and a roll of paper and moved closer to the lantern at the center of the tent.
In the meantime, Helena called for captain Astor, and when he arrived she gave him her orders: «Gather immediately a contingent of watchers. Choose the fastest ones you have. They must go before us and bring as quickly as possible to the lord Zamoshan the letter the Exarch is writing.»
Astor left, and once more silence fell inside the tent, broken only by the noise of her father’s pen sliding on the paper. Eventually that too stopped, and Helena realized her father was looking at her, with a bitter smile on his face.
«What is it?» she asked.
«Right now… you resemble your mother so much.» was his answer.
This unsettled her: her father almost never spoke about her mother. Helena had never known her. She was aware of her name, “Dora”, mostly because it was part of her own. And any time that she, as a child, had tried to ask him about her, Stefan had refused to answer, telling her only that she had died giving birth to her. Growing up, she had understood he had never really recovered from that. Their love must have been deep.
«In moments like this, I still miss her.» he resumed. «But at this point… ah, never mind. Rather, would you kindly seal this letter for me? Right now I have little trust in my ability with knots.»
She did as he had requested, but as she took the rolled paper she touched his hand.
And even if her face betrayed no emotion, that contact filled her with a vague sense of dread.
For despite the cold, her father’s hands were hot, burning hot. As if he had a fever.
Kal yawned.
He didn’t know what time it was, but the camp behind him was dark and quiet, so everyone must have been asleep.
Under the stars, all was still. The forest had long disappeared behind the horizon. To the southwest, in the distance, he could still see the last village they had come across on their way.
After Malkisvor there had been three more settlements. Each time the order was given to keep away, in order to avoid potential disorders. But while the first and third one had ignored them, the chief of the second village had come talking to them, like Kesmetal, and he had asked them more or less the same questions as well. He had offer them food, in exchange for them leaving the village alone. Helena Dorina had rejected his offer and had assured him they meant no harm, and after the talk ended she had seemed to be in a good mood for some reason.
Apart from this incident, The journey went on with little change from one day to the next. Despite their situation, there was a widespread sense of… placid calm. Out of precaution, the food was rationed, but everyone had been assured that the supplies would last until they reached Istak, and it seemed nobody doubted that. Kal had expected cries and complaints from the citizens, but since they had left the forest behind everyone seemed to have calmed down.
Perhaps it was due to the scenery. The plain extended as far as the eye could see, every once in a while interrupted by small streams they used to drink, wash and change the lanterns’ water.
Even in the dark, the prairie had a soothing, almost soporific effect.
Kal resisted the temptation to close his eyes, and it was then that he saw it.
Far away, behind the camp. Almost invisible.
A lone, wavy flame.
He squinted his eyes and observed it for a while, to be sure it wasn’t a hallucination induced by fatigue. It was undoubtedly real.
Somebody had lit up a fire there, in the middle of nowhere.
Kal was reminded of their first night in the forest, when they had seen that lone flame, snuffed out before Fyra could get close, and he was suddenly taken by an unease he couldn’t explain.
He was about to call a companion and report the fire, when he realized the camp was suddenly awake with voices.
Looking away from that faraway flame, he saw that the camp’s lanterns had been uncovered and a crowd was gathering around one of the tents, Exarch Stefan’s.
When a citizen passed close by, Kal asked: «What’s going on?»
The other answered: «I don’t know, but I heard the Exarch’s dying.»
«Ergon! Finally you’re here!»
Helena had called for him the moment her father had awakened lamenting pain in his chest. Stefan was still lying on his bed, breathing raggedly.
Ergon though stood at the tent’s entrance, hesitating, with an apologetic expression on his face.
«He has relapsed, Ergon. Help him!» Helena was making an effort to keep her self-control. And the reason was more than the crowd of onlookers surrounding the tent, a crowd that Astor was barely managing to keep out.
But Ergon said: «That is not a relapse, Helena Dorina. That is the drugs’ effect.»
«What do you mean?»
The medic sighed: «I did all that I could, but the wound is too deep, and it has become infected. I gave him some tinctures to reduce pain and allow him to travel, but that came at a cost as well. And now his body is simply at its limit.»
Helena could not understand what he was saying. Or rather, something inside of her refused to.
«You… what?»
«I’m sorry.» Ergon bowed his head and stood still, as if waiting for some punishment. But Helena, surprising even herself, felt no desire to punish him. It would have changed nothing.
«Helena.» She heard her father calling and immediately knelt to his bedside.
«Helena.» he repeated. «Do not blame him. I was the one who requested this of him. I needed more time… and I did not want to worry you.»
He reached out toward her. She took his hand.
«Leave us, please.» her father said to Ergon and the other guards. The door to the tent was closed and in a few moments silence fell.
«Do you remember what I told you so many times?» his voice was weak, and yet full of warmth. «Each of us had a duty… a role. Mine ends today.»
With the other hand he tenderly caressed her hair, like he did when she was a child.
«Do not be sad for this. I am not. What I am sad for, is that I had wished for you… a different role.» He paused for one moment, to take a breath. «I wished to leave you a world where you would not be forced to fight, to be afraid, to suffer…»
Suddenly, with what she understood to be an enormous effort, he hugged her.
«In this, I have failed. Please… forgive me.»
She only managed to hug him back. She felt as if nothing she was seeing were real. All sensations were dulled.
After a few moments, her father loosened his grip, and Helena understood that that was his strength leaving him. «Today my role ends, and your begins. You will carry a great responsibility on your shoulders… but you must have no fear. You are ready. I have lived long enough to see that.»
He weakly smiled at her. Weakly, but sincerely.
«Hate not your uncle, he is merely being… manipulated. You will have to save him as well. We need to be united. And you will be the one to unite us. You can do it. You will… fulfill everyone’s hopes.»
His expression became solemn and severe.
«You need only… to always remember… who the real enemy is…»
And those were his last words.
He breathed out a long sigh, after which Helena knew that her father was no more.
They emptied a large jar of its contents, splitting them among the bags. Then they wrapped him in his blankets, laid him inside the jar and buried him not far from the camp.
A small ceremony was officiated, but afterwards Helena wouldn’t remember the details. She kept feeling as if she were in a different world.
She expected to fall into despair, to not know what to do, to be anguished. But the truth was far worse. As much as she tried, she could not even cry. Searching inside of herself, she only found a limitless void.
There was pain, but it was dull, distant, as if that loss hadn’t happened less than a day before but a long, extremely long time ago, as if it were a distant memory already.
Is this what I am? Is this all I can feel, even after the death of the one I cared for the most?
She became scared of herself.
Is this the person who should “fulfill everyone’s hopes”, Father?
However, she did not have the time to dwell on the matter.
Even if Stefan Arystid was dead, the citizens of Elis were still in a foreign lands, far away from everything they had ever known.
It was them who went to her, in her tent.
Astor knelt in front of her, and asked: «What are your orders, my Exarch?»
Although she had feared chaos would spread throughout the camp, it appeared everyone had accepted her authority, both among the populace and among the watchers. And she figured out that that was the reason her father had insisted so much in these last few days for it to be her to speak to the people and to give the orders. All had already become used to considering her their leader, and saw no problem in entrusting themselves to her.
You said I was ready. I will trust your judgment, Father.
She took a deep breath, and then gave her first order as the Exarch.
«We resume our march. Onward.»
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