Sweet Dreams

 

Fallon and Sisseku brought out a second helping of bread to the feast. As they approached Sisseku glanced to Fallon, puzzled at the stillness. In the dimming sky above, Fallon paused staring at what seemed to be a Faerie or a small bird.

“Hurry, the bread is cooling,” Sisseku stopped and turned back to him.

“Bird? I haven’t seen a bird in a while,” Fallon said, motioning his head skyward.

Sisseku looked up. “Oh, my, that is odd. Come on, the queen will be mad.” She turned toward the tent.

Fallon paused, listening to the silence from the pavilion where he had left the soldiers. If the poison had taken effect, he expected to hear gurgles and moans of pain, not the quiet of an evening breeze. He almost bumped his tray into Sisseku, who had stopped inside the pavilion. “Why are they sleeping?” Sisseku asked.

Fallon moved to the side and put his tray of breads on a nearby table. He noticed the flowing beige gown of the queen, her seated figure at a curved table the soldiers called a dais. Her head lay in her crossed arms on the table and beside her the red-haired soldier slumped sideways in his seat, his head cocked back, his mouth open.

“Shhhh,” Fallon said, turning to Sisseku. He approached the dais table and bent to look at the slack face of the red-haired soldier. He walked around the table and behind the soldier and felt for a pulse on the neck below the beard. He turned to the queen and felt her neck, then looked up to Sisseku and shook his head.

“Not sleeping?” asked Sisseku as she put the bread tray down.

“Not breathing,” Fallon said. “No pulse.”

“But we made all this food,” Sisseku protested as she looked around at the uneaten dishes they had prepared.

Fallon looked around for the bowl with the berry mash but moved casually toward it, pausing to check other soldiers. He kept his eye on Sisseku, ready to intercept her if she moved toward the table with the bowl. She was more interested in the meat tray.

“She’s dead?” Sisseku asked. Fallon nodded and Sisseku cut a piece of haunch meat and held it to her nose before taking a bite.

Reaching the bowl, Fallon saw that it was mostly empty. The soldiers hadn’t waited to eat it after the meal. Fallon pretended to knock the bowl off the table, then bent down and threw some dirt in the bowl. He stood up, holding the bowl to show the dirt, apologizing for his clumsiness. He realized that he couldn’t leave the bowl there in case a stray animal licked it. He turned to a nearby soldier, reached down and slipped the knife from the scabbard at his waist. He brandished the knife in one hand, the bowl in the other using it as a shield. “I’m going to the palace to get the doctor,” he said to Sisseku.

“Don’t leave me here,” she said, her mouth full. She swallowed. “We can bring the meat back to the village.”

Fallon took a chance. “Aren’t you worried that it might be bad?” he asked.

Sisseku shook her head. “The village elder had some this morning. He was fine.”

Fallon paused, “I wonder what happened.”

Sisseku said, “We’ll bring the calf meat down to the village, then clean up in the morning. I don’t want to stay here.” Her shoulders shook as though a chill ran through her body, then took another bite of meat.

Fallon left the tent, moving toward the palace at the top of the rise. Alert to every sound and smell, he was aware of the ocean smell that carried on the night breeze. He saw no motion but heard a slight keening voice from the sky above. Not the sound of a faerie after all, but a bird who balanced on spread wings in the onshore breeze. Fallon stopped to put more dirt in the bowl, rubbing it around, then scooping the loose dirt onto the ground. Finally, he wiped his hands on the ground, aware that he was probably carrying some of the poison on his fur.

A torch light inside the main portico showed no activity but he was cautious, expecting that the Fae palace guards had not attended the dinner. He crept through the opening, watchful for the slightest movement. To his right was the ramp that led up to the clinic, Alithea and Erthen. It was strangely silent. Stooping low, he crept up the ramp, ears and eyes alert to the presence of a Fae guard. At the top of the ramp, he peered down the hallway toward the clinic. A Fae guard lay crumpled a warrior’s length yards from the clinic, a finger tendril laying askew on the hard clay floor. Fallon made the sound of a Burble bird, hoping that Alithea could hear it from inside the clinic.

When Alithea’s head appeared in the clinic opening, she turned left and saw Fallon. Silently, he pointed to the fallen Fae guard. Alithea held up two fingers. Fallon gave her a questioning gesture, hoping she would know where the other guard was, but Alithea shook her head. Fallon crept forward, pausing to feel the neck of the Fae guard, satisfying himself that she was dead and not unconscious. He moved across the hallway and joined Alithea as she backed into the clinic.

“Erthen?” Fallon asked in a whisper, enjoying the contact with Alithea as he clasped her arms in his hands.

“In the other room,” Alithea said. “The queen sent over a dinner for the guards, but I don’t know where the other guard is.

“Wait here. Stay with Erthen,” Fallon cautioned, then turned and snuck into the hallway. An opening at the east end of hallway was the pale light of a quarter moon. Fallon moved slowly, pausing at each room opening to make sure it was safe. When he got to the end of the hallway, he approached opening, knife and bowl at the ready. He made a swift movement through the opening, arm cocked but there was no attack. Looking down he saw a Fae guard folded over the short wall that bounded the small balcony. He moved his foot forward, extending a claw to poke the guard’s foot, but felt no response. He set the bowl down and reached forward to feel the guard’s neck, knife poised to strike. No pulse. He pulled the body back onto the balcony, noticing the limp finger tendrils that signaled death.

Moving cautiously back to the clinic room, he ducked inside. When Alithea started to speak, he made a quieting motion with his hand. “Both guards are dead, but there could be others. Let’s go.” He looked past Alithea to the small room. “Erthen?” She nodded. He went inside and picked up the boy, then put his mouth over the boy’s mouth, making a shushing sound with his tongue, the signal to stay quiet. The boy slapped his father on the shoulders and made joyful throat sounds but did not speak.

Fallon moved through the clinic to the hallway, clutching the boy. “Wait,” Alithea called back in a loud whisper. She gathered some items from a cabinet, put them in a cloth bag and followed Fallon down the hallway. When they reached the main opening to the palace, Fallon scouted the lawn, then moved to the right, away from the ocean. “Where are we going?” she asked in an insistent low tone.

“As far away from here as we can get,” Fallon said, turning to wait for her.

“Sisseku. We can’t leave her here,” Alithea said.

            “We can discuss this when we get to the trees ahead,” Fallon said. “I feel exposed in this moonlight.”

            When they got to the edge of the trees, they stopped. Fallon gave Erthen a smooch as Alithea shifted the bag of medicines she had brought. “Are they all?” she asked.

“It’s like they were drunk or sleeping,” Fallon said, shaking his head. “No pulse. What was that?”

“Never mind,” Alithea said. “Where is the rest of the berries? Some animals could…”

Fallon interrupted. “I cleaned the bowl out with dirt. Oh, my fur,” pushed Erthen away from him. “Take him. I might have some on my hands.”

Alithea put the medicine bag down and scooped Erthen into her arms, cooing at him while she did so. “Did you touch his face?” she brushed away the fine fur around his mouth and nose. “I don’t feel anything.”

Fallon had stooped down, rubbing the front and back of his hands on the grass that grew near the edge of the trees. He peered at the back of his hands in the dim light but he couldn’t see anything. “I think I cleaned it all off. There was just a tiny bit left in the bowl when I first found it.”

“If they are all dead, we can go get Sisseku,” Alithea said.

“She wants me to help her take the calf meat back to the village,” Fallon said. “It’s become her home. Come on, let’s go.”

“What about the others? Bebe, Alpen and Drindl? We can’t just leave them,” Alithea protested. “We could bring some of the food with us.”

“We’re not going back to the village,” Fallon said. “When the other soldiers find out their queen and this garrison are dead, they may just kill us all. I don’t know.”

“We’ll need the food,” Alithea reminded him. “He needs the food, some proper food,” nodding her head to Erthen.

Fallon looked to the east and the moon, then back to the pavilion building. “Quickly. If Sisseku doesn’t want to go with us, we leave. Promise.” Alithea agreed and they followed the tree line toward the north and the pavilion.