Chapter Twelve: Lessons in War (2)

[manniness]

This entry is rated M for violence and gore.

*~*~*~*

Tamial Hightopp – Jabberwocky Pilot and Fearless Adventurer of Daring-Do! – realizes he’s made a slight error in logic as he clutches Maevyn’s neck and the wilderness sweeps past beneath them. Yes, the promise of seeing his Mam finally doing her job as Champion to the White Queen and the resulting rush of excitement had made Tam completely forget about Aunt Margaret, the breakfast call, and an unfortunately vacant bed in the guest room on the other side of the looking glass.

Oops.

But then he shrugs. So they find out. So he gets into trouble... again. He’ll think about that later. This will be worth it, he’s sure! In fact, now that he thinks about it, why did his Fa say he’d come and collect him tonight? Why wouldn’t his Fa and Mam want him to see this?

Well, that hardly matters now!

Over Maevyn’s crest, Tam can make out the ruins at the battlefield. True, he’s never been here before, but Uncle Thackery had described it lots of times... back when he’d been allowed to tell Tam bedtime stories.

Tam smiles at the memory.

Then sighs. He misses Thackery’s bedtime stories. He misses the days when he’d been ten years old. He misses... home.

“There they are!” Lanny shouts, pointing over Tam’s shoulder and directing his attention to the much-closer battlefield.

“And they’ve already started the duel!” Ian moans with disappointment.

“Land over there!” Tam says, “on the tower ruins.”

“Hm... all right. I think I can manage that.”

Tam blinks. “Excuse me? ”

“Oh? Didn’t I mention I’m still working on my landings?”

“Er... no. ”

“Oh,” Maevyn remarks and then, thoughtfully, adds: “Sorry.”

Tam locks his jaw and grits his teeth to keep the unmanly scream from escaping him as the jabberwocky dives with sudden intent toward the crumbling stone sentinel. For a moment, he considers closing his eyes, but no! He will be brave and if this is the end, then he will meet Death head on! He will...!

“Ooof!” he grunts, as Maevyn skids across the largest flat space available, flounders with much scraping and scrabbling of claws, and then halts with a suddenness that sends Tam cartwheeling over the jabberwocky’s neck and landing flat on his back on the stone.

“Ow,” he informs his transportation.

“All right?” Maevyn inquires solicitously, its brows crinkling together with concern.

“I’m docking you a bushel for that.”
 

The jabberwocky snorts.

“Come on, Tam! Get up!” Ian urges him, grabbing one of his arms. Lanny grabs the other.

“Feel pain later! Just lookit that! ”

Tam scrambles to his feet and then stumbles to his knees between his friends. They brace their hands on a fallen column and watch as the two combatants clash swords, pivot away before turning back, blades swinging.

“Wow...” Ian intones.

Tam is too busy staring to add to the commentary. That must be Tarra in the leather jerkin and hide shin guards because That gleam of silver steel is his Mam’s armor. From when she’d slain the Jabberwocky and had ended the Red Queen’s reign. Sir Fenruffle had told them the story and had taken them to see the suit of armor once. This is the first time he’s ever seen his Mam actually in it, though, and... well, she hardly looks like his Mam at all!

Her expression is fierce yet she doesn’t seem to be in any hurry at all to finish the fight. He watches as she blocks another thrust from Tarra’s sword. Tam tears his attention away long enough to search for his Fa and...

There! Tam sighs out a breath of relief when he spies his Fa standing three paces out beyond the front lines. He can’t make out the color of his Fa’s eyes at this distance, but his hands are twitching. Maybe Tam’s sigh of relief had been a bit... premature?

He looks back at the Champions battling in the center of the field. His Mam relents under Tarra’s sudden fury of attacks, approaching the front line of the White Army. She’s only six paces or so away from his Fa when, suddenly, his Mam moves so swiftly he doesn’t even catch the motion that nearly knocks the sword from Tarra’s hands. Her grips is strong, though, and she doesn’t let go. She twists with the blow and falls to her knees rather than drop the weapon.

“I expected more... enthusiasm,” Tam hears his Mam sneer with surprising aggression. “Especially when I’ve most considerately obliged you with a second chance to slice open my throat.”

Tarra climbs to her feet.

His Mam steps forward, sword at the ready...

She swings, misses and...!

Tam gasps as Tarra lifts her sword and arcs it through the air. His Mam’s arms are lowered, her throat exposed above the gleaming collar of her armor and...!

Tam reaches out for his friends as Disaster unfolds right before them.

The blade reaches out, is nearly level with his Mam’s neck, and then...!

And then...

And then all is Silent.

Still.

Frozen.

Tam tries to blink, to move, to say... well, to say something!

He can’t. Out of the corner of his eye and to his left, Lanny is perfectly still. To his right, Ian’s expression is a mask of dawning horror. And before him... before him...!

Tam watches as his Fa steps forward hesitantly. “Alice,” he whispers and Tam hears an odd lisp in his voice. His Fa never lisps unless... unless...

“Please, Alice,” he murmurs yet, in the perfect Silence, the sound carries.

His Mam steps away from the sword tip that is nearly kissing her throat and turns toward his Fa. She holds out her hand which Tam sees is completely bare... which seems odd to him although he can’t be sure why . His Fa crosses the utterly motionless scene and takes it. “I need you,” she says and Tam cannot understand how her voice can be so strong at a time like this. “Underland needs you. These children need you. Please.”

And then his Fa lifts his hands to his Mam’s face, cradles it in his palms, and kisses her. “I luv ye, my Alice.”

And then it all happens so fast Tam would have been shocked breathless if he’d been capable of breathing at all:

His Mam turns back to Tarra’s blade, reaches for it with her right hand and runs her open palm along the sword’s edge.

Blood, dark and red, drips onto the steel.

His Fa steps up behind her, places a hand on her forehead and pulls her head back against his shoulder. His face is twisted with such pain Tam feels the ache even though he does not understand it... and then he lifts his other arm, reveals a knife in his grasp and presses the blade against his Mam’s throat...

And slices it open.

Blood spurts and his Fa leaps back toward the White Army and then...

And then...!

And then everything is in motion again.

Tam watches – frozen despite the fact that he can move now if he wants to! – as his Mam doubles over, reaches for her slit throat with her right hand and stumbles back.

“Alice! ” Tam twitches, recognizing the force of his Fa’s scream. He stares, unable to move – to think – as his Fa races to his Mam’s side. He does not reach her before she falls. She tries to stay standing but the blood... there is so much blood! Red and strange and his Mam’s blood! And she braces herself on the stones with her left hand – When had she dropped her sword? He can’t remember hearing it fall. – and she looks up at Princess Tarra. Tarra, whose face and jerkin are splattered with red blood, whose blade is dripping with it...

His Mam looks at her... opens her mouth to speak... and gurgles instead. His Fa reaches her then, as the blood seeps out over her lips.

“Alice... Alice... Alice...” he cries softly. From this vantage point Tam can see his Fa’s hands lowering Mam gently to the ground, reaching for a handkerchief and then beginning to work swiftly at her neck. “Ye cannae leave me, Alice... Ye promised... Us... us... ”

Tam watches the color drain from his Mam’s face. The blood is too dark and her skin is too white and her eyes become glassy and wide. Her hand flutters weakly upward, to his Fa’s face, which she touches briefly before her arm drops and her left hand – the heart line so stark it is nearly black – rolls over... and is still.

 

*~*~*~*

 

“You’ve forgotten your gauntlets, Alice.”

It’s an utterly ridiculous thing to think, an utterly pointless memory to draw upon, in the wake of what she has just seen:

Alice’s taunt and faulty attack...

Tarra’s blade arching up... and then slicing through her throat.

The blood – unsettlingly red – had sprayed so quickly Mirana had not even see it travel through the air... but there it is: undeniably dripping down her daughter’s pale face just as it had undeniably run in rivulets between the fingers of Alice’s right hand which had clutched reflexively at the gash in her throat... a pathetic and pointless attempt to stop the bleeding.

“You’ve forgotten your gauntlets, Alice,” Mirana had observed as her Champion had lifted her sword, ready to step out and meet the queen’s second daughter.

“No, I haven’t,” Alice had said in a soft, confident voice. Mirana had heard a small hiccup come from Tarrant in response to that, had wondered about it...

But now... now Mirana understands why gauntlets had not been needful today.

She stares at the fallen form of her Champion, at her pale, outstretched had... at the heart line that stretches up her third finger and toward her wrist. Tarrant’s mutters are barely audible over the shock that has rendered her mind utterly useless. From this vantage point, with his back to the opposing army, she can see his hands working furiously to save Alice’s life. But a wound like that, from a blade like the one Tarra had been holding... Even the alchemist in her cannot feel that there is any hope.

She stares, as everyone else stares, in silence.

“No... NO! MAM!! ”

Mirana startles as a voice – a young boy’s voice – echoes across the field. She forces her gaze away from Alice, her now-lifeless friend and fallen Champion, and watches – heart screaming in agony and tears gathering – as Tamial Hightopp races down the crumbling steps of the ruins. The very steps his mother had descended over twenty years ago... after slaying the Jabberwocky.

“MAM!! ”

He races across the field, pushes his way through the silent and shocked rebels, dashes past Tarra who stands frozen, sword still frozen at the conclusion of its arc, bosom still heaving with exertion, and then Tam crashes to a halt on his knees beside his mother’s body. Tarrant, oddly enough, is silent now. Utterly silent... and still. His shoulders are bowed. His head hangs. His hands are pressed – uselessly – against Alice’s bloody throat. He is... defeated.

Alice is Gone. Mirana can only guess what will become of his mind now.

She blinks at that thought, shakes herself. Yes, yes, she must act quickly!

But before she can take a breath, her daughter sinks to her knees, drops her sword and says, simply, “No... No...”

It is Leif, surprisingly enough, who reaches her first, who puts his unbound paws on her shoulders and holds her steady.

Movement atop the battlefield ruins draw her gaze and she has to clench her hands into fists at the sight of her two youngest sons standing beside one of the young jabberwockies. Yet another tragedy today: she had not wanted Dalerian or Leivlan to see... this. She glances toward her husband who is also glaring up at the boys a top the ruined tower. Yes, he will handle them . Now, she must handle this.

Now, Mirana judges, aching for her sons – Their innocence is well and truly lost now! – aching for her daughter – She is a murderer now! – and aching for Alice – Why did you lie to me? Everything is not all right! – aching for Tarrant and Tamial and...

Now, the queen realizes... Now is the time to make the most of Alice’s sacrifice. Now is the time to honor her requests: amnesty and negotiations.

Those objectives seem so... petty now. But, petty or not, they are what Alice has given her life for. Mirana must not allow that to have been in vain. Still, she cannot forgive them so quickly, not with Alice’s body cooling on the stones just a dozen paces away.

She draws in another breath and the White Queen speaks, “Is this what you wanted?” The question is softer than she’d intended for it to be but that makes it no less audible. “Death? Is this what you sought? Are you satisfied?”

For a long moment, no one answers. And then...

“How could you!” The scream, surprisingly enough is not from Tarrant... it is from Tamial. And it is not directed at Tarra. “How could you do this to her?” His voice cracks and gurgles with his tears. Tamial Hightopp glares at his father. “Mam...” Tamial visibly struggles to say more. Struggles... and fails. “Mam...!”

“Yer Mam...” Tarrant whispers brokenly. “Woul’nae wan’ ye teh see her this way. ”

Mirana concurs and nods for a pair of soldiers to step forward. They do, collecting Tam despite his flailing arms and kicking legs, and pull him off of the battlefield. The fight is not over with yet and Mirana will not tolerate another avoidable death. Not here. Not today.

She gazes at her daughter who has never looked so drawn, so beaten. And then Mirana turns her gaze back to her Champion’s body. So still. So pale. Alice, her friend, is Gone.

“What is it you want?” the White queen asks. “What did this wife, this mother, die for?”

Mirana forces herself to look away, to look out at the sea of shocked faces, many of which are streaked with tears. She aches to run to her daughter, to comfort her, but she cannot. Not yet. Tarra is inconsolable yet silent, still kneeling at Alice’s feet with Leif’s arms around her.

“SPEAK!” Mirana shouts, frustrated and grieving and a dozen other things that threaten to tear her apart.

“Th’ righ’ teh bear arms,” one young man says in a gravely voice. “We wan’teh b’ proud o’ our ancestry as figh’ers. ’Tis all.”

“Then...” Mirana forces herself to say recalling Alice’s instructions. “We will discuss terms...”

“O’ surrender?” the young man finishes. It should have been a remark laden with defiance and victory... but it rings out... hollowly.

Still, it must be answered. Alice, the White Queen’s Champion has fallen. Which means...

Mirana draws in a breath, prepares the White Queen’s answer...

“No.”

At the sound of that voice, Mirana turns, feels her jaw drop, and hears herself gasp as Alice...

Alice...!

Alice, with Tarrant’s assistance, sits up, still clutching the bloodied handkerchief to her throat. Her face is still so pale Mirana fears she will fade into nothing even without the assistance of the blood of the Jabberwocky.

“No,” she repeats on a croaking whisper of breath and, summoning her strength, she lifts her sword with her left hand and points the quivering blade at Tarra’s heart. “We do not surrender.”

“However,” Mirana hears herself say as the miracle of Alice’s life unclogs her throat, un-cremates her heart, unfreezes her mind. “We offer you amnesty and we wish to hear your claims in detail... so that negotiations may begin.”

“Negotiations?” the young man snorts in hysteric disbelief.

“Yes,” Mirana says, understanding Alice’s plan in a flash of insight. “No one has lost their life. It is not too late to withdraw... and begin again.”

For a very long moment, no one moves. Alice continues to hold the blade unsteadily over Tarra’s heart and Tarra does not protest. She stares into the chalky-white face of her teacher... and says nothing.

The young man who had spoken, who had introduced himself at the beginning of the duel as Abler Masonmark, takes a deep breath. Slowly, he nods. And then sheathes his sword. The others follow suit.

“Mam?!”

Alice does not – cannot turn her head toward her son – but she drops the sword and reaches out to him. The guards wait for Mirana’s nod of acquiescence, which she gives, to release their charge.

Tamial is across the field and wrapping his arms around his mother in the next instant.

“So sorry, Tam,” Mirana hears Alice rasp as she alternately clutches her son and her husband with her left hand. “So sorry you saw...”

And yes, Tamial did see.

Just as the rebels now See.

Just as Tarra now Sees.

Reclining against her husband’s chest is Underland’s True Champion.

Mirana regards her friend, who has – amazingly – survived despite her injury...

Yes... that very distinct injury, Mirana muses, considering its location and severity... and its likeliness to scar...

Tears fill her eyes as Mirana looks upon a woman who is and will always be a Champion.
 

Comments

[starlight623.livejournal.com]

I think that I'm lucky to still be breathing! I might have held my breath for the entire battle. Crazy Alice! And my heart ached for Tarrant and Tam.

Probably should lay down from the lightheadedness. ;-)

[manniness.livejournal.com]

I'm glad you believed in Alice (and in me, trusting me not to kill off any of my main characters)!

Book 5... yes, the end of Book 4 has a bit of an emotional cliffhanger, hence Book 5.

And, yes, Tam and other other young'uns learned a lot about peace and war, I think. Sure, peace is boring, but war is a nightmare. Of the two, I think I know which they'd all prefer now. (Which was kinda the theme of this book: what happens when the generation who didn't live through a civil war grows up dissatisfied with peace?)

I'll probably post Book 5 all at once, to spare everyone the end-of-chapter cliffhangers. (^__~)

Thank you so much for your comments on these last few chapters!! They've been an absolute joy to read!