Ander - Part 6: Subchapter 37
37
The sun hadn't come up yet, but the eastern horizon already had a reddish tinge to it, like blood mixed with tears. Ander could feel all that time dripping through his fingers, gone forever.
He paced the wall, lantern in hand, occasionally stopping to tug on a piece of rope or push against a support, testing anything and everything that looked like it might fail under pressure. If even a single thing went wrong...
He stopped, ran a hand across his dirt-smeared face, and forced himself to take deep, slow breaths.
It didn't work. There was this constant sense of urgency, of time running out. He felt like he needed to hurry, that something was coming, and that he was nowhere near ready for it.
A small chuckle broke through his 'calming' breaths, and although he knew it must sound crazy, he didn't really care. There was nobody around to hear him go to pieces, so what the hell?
They had worked deep into the night, chopping trees, sawing logs, weaving rope. Even after it became too dark to get anything done, they had kept going. And why?
Because they actually looked up to him. They saw him as some kind of leader who knew exactly what to do. They saw him working hard and they followed suit, thinking that if they did exactly as he asked, then they'd be safe. Thinking that they could go back to their unburnt homes, kiss their wives and husbands on their unscarred cheeks, ruffle their children's unbloodied hair, sit down to a nice meal and retire to a warm bed and pleasant dreams.
They saw him as a saviour...
Another chuckle burst out of Ander's mouth, but quickly turned into a strangled sob.
Saviour? Him? After this was over, he'd have more blood on his hands than anyone who has ever lived. That wasn't a saviour. That was a murderer.
He wiped his eyes and got back to work inspecting the wall. It was all he could do for now, at least until the sun came up. It was better this way, focussing on the wall itself, rather than its deadly purpose. It wasn't all that different from the one back ho- back from where he came. It was a simple construction stretching from one side of the pass to the other, made from tall posts of wood, partially buried at the base and sharpened at the top, all of them tied together with miles of rope and hundreds of strips of rawhide and braced in the back for added support. That much was fine, but...
There was just so much that could go wrong.
This walkway he was standing on, would it support the weight of all the archers? Was it broad enough for them to travel back and forth without jostling each other off the back? And the crenels, were they spaced correctly? If they were too narrow, the archers wouldn't be able to fire through them, but if they were too wide, they wouldn't have any protection from the enemy's arrows...
Enemy's arrows?
'Enemy'?
Ander rubbed his eyes, wondering what would come first - if his body would just give up and keel over from sheer exhaustion, or if his mind would break down completely and he'd just sit down right here and cry.
Neither of those things happened. He just kept standing there for a while, covering his eyes and staring into the blackness behind his eyelids, feeling the icy wind blowing in from the pass and slapping him in the face with its millions of tiny hands.
If the plan works, not a single arrow will need to fly.
If the plan works, the amount of murders you have committed will rise from two, to two hundred. Maybe more.
That wasn't my fault! I was trying to save him, but Banno - He wanted to pull us both into the river! What was I supposed to do!?
You still murdered him.
Garten was trying to kill me! He wouldn't stop! I tried to warn him, but he kept coming and I -
And you plunged a knife into his face. Understandable? Completely. Justifiable? Perhaps. But the fact remains, you murdered him, and now you plan to murder hundreds more.
Shut up, Banno.
It's just like I said, Ander.
Shut up!
You and I, we're not so different after all.
Ander switched the lantern to his other hand and bit down on his knuckles, grinding his teeth against Sarah's handkerchief, which was already filthy after a full day's work, drenched in dried blood and sweat and sprinkled with sawdust. The pain was unbearable, but that voice, that dead, terrible voice, was gone. At least for now.
Ander didn't sit down as much as he just sort of slid down into a sitting position, right there on the walkway. He put the lantern down and fished a scrap of paper from inside his clothes. It was even filthier than the handkerchief, covered in random streaks of charcoal and smeared with spots of ink from various quills. He smoothed it out against his thigh and stared at the lines for a very, very long time.
It was a rough set of sketches of the wall and the surrounding area. One as seen from the side, as if there weren't half a mountain blocking the view, and another from above. A single line, four wolves high, and a curve, bulging into the pass like a -
Like a pregnant belly...
Ander shook his head, pulled a stubby piece of charcoal from his pocket and set to work, poring over that piece of paper with naught but a single lantern to light up the scribbles. He drew more lines, indicating where the wall needed to be strengthened, he drew circles, highlighting potential problems, he drew arrows, visualising where the enemy -
Wolves, just like me, they're just like me, just like Hezzi, how am I going to do this, I can't do this...
- would come from, where they would most likely stop, how high their arrows would fly, where they would land, and the reverse as well, where the Foxes' arrows would -
There aren't going to be any arrows. There isn't going to be any fight at all. It's just going to be death. Just death.
- fly, where they would land. But that's only if the plan didn't work. That's only -
Death.
Ander scribbled in the margins, estimating distances, trying to foresee every possible action and every possible counter, but they all ended the same way.
DEATH.
He kept working, making notes, randomly switching between the Old Wolven style of writing and the Fox style without even realizing it, until the whole thing was covered in a smattering of letters and symbols that no one else could possibly have deciphered. He only ever looked up from his work to check that his sketches were matching up with reality.
He sketched in the rope ladders they had put up yesterday evening, rushing against the setting sun. It was such a slipshod thing, such a tiny, inconsequential thing. The eastern side of the mountain wasn't as sheer as the walls inside the pass, but they were still dangerously steep. Just one misstep or one shoddy knot and a Fox could fall to his death.
Really, Ander? You want to blame yourself for some clumsy hypothetical Fox's death, too? Just how full of yourself are you? If that happens, just add another one to the list. Two, three, four, a thousand, what's the difference? A murderer's a murderer, no matter the number of deaths they've tasted. Once you've gotten your hands wet, you might as well just roll around in it, have some fun. At the very least, it might make you feel less guilty, right?
And if those damn ladders weren't bad enough, what about the bridges? If he had had more time, he could have built them nice and sturdy, out of wood, but there just wasn't enough time! Most of the 'bridges' were just two or three ropes spanning giant drop-offs or hanging limply against cliff walls like half-dead snakes, just something to grab onto and shimmy your way along ledges that were barely wider than your feet. Everyone told him he was crazy to go up there, that he should leave that work to the smaller, more agile Foxes, but that wouldn't be right. He couldn't ask them to do something like that while he just stood around and gaped up at them from below, waiting to see if any of them would fall and splatter on the ground like over ripened fruit.
He added more lines to one of the few remaining patches of white, denoting the pathways along the almost vertical walls of the pass. There were inlets, here and there - gaps in the stone, chunks of jutting rock, and ledges just wide enough to get the job done. He marked these with the Wolven symbol for 'fire', and looked up into the receding darkness. Bright lines of sunshine were slowly starting to creep down the mountain's highest peaks, illuminating the snow in brilliant flashes of white, but the signal pyres were completely invisible from down here, and invisible they would stay until the time came for them to be lit. And when that happens...
Time's up.
Ander bit down on his knuckles again, not even realising he was doing the exact same thing his father used to do whenever he was upset. He just wanted to focus on something other than the future for a few seconds, and pain was simply the most convenient thing at hand right now. If he thought about what was going to happen, if he thought about what he was going to do, then...
He was afraid he wouldn't be able to do it all.
"Ander?"
He jerked his bleeding hand out of his mouth and stuck it behind his back, feeling like a guilty child. "Kiana?"
She was slowly walking up the rickety set of stairs leading to the walkway, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. She stared at him, blinking in surprise and confusion. "What are you doing up here so early?"
"I was... just..."
She took in his dirty face, his bloodshot eyes, his dishevelled clothes, the lantern by his side and the crumpled piece of paper spread across his lap. "My gods, Ander, did you sleep at all last night?"
"I tried." Ander shrugged. What was the point in lying to her? She'd notice right away, and that would only make her worry even more. "But every time I closed my eyes, they'd just fly open again. It felt like... like I wasn't allowed to sleep. Not until my work was done. I'm the one who started it, I'm the one who should finish it."
Her shoulders slumped and she slowly shook her head. "Oh, Ander..." The wind rippled her hair across her face like a veil, and when she made to pull it back, Ander saw how much love and sadness were in those eyes, inexorably woven together. She sat down next to him and rested her head against his shoulder, not saying anything.
They stayed like that for quite a while, their backs propped up against the only protection he could think to provide: a single layer of sharp, wooden posts that could barely keep the wind at bay.
"Kiana?"
"Hm?"
"Did you... Have you told them yet? About our..."
She cradled her stomach, as if to protect their unborn child from the cold. "I wanted to, but... I didn't want to do it without you by my side. It just didn't feel right."
Ander felt like punching himself. While Kiana, the vixen he loved, the mother of his future child, had been struggling, probably sitting at that kitchen table, waiting and waiting under a pall of worry and tension, he had been out here, measuring planks and tying knots and dragging posts along the ground, completely oblivious.
"I'm sorry, Kiana. You're right, I should be there."
"You don't need to apologise, Ander. I understand."
"It's still not right. I'm supposed to be there for you, but instead..."
"But you _are_here for me," Kiana insisted, lightly running her hand across his arm. "That's what this wall actually is, isn't it? It's your way of protecting me, of protecting our baby, of -"
murdering your family.
Ander sat bolt upright. "What did you say?"
Kiana blinked. "I said this is your way of protecting the valley. Isn't that true?"
"Oh, I..." Ander rubbed his burning eyes. "I'm sorry, I just..."
"You really need to get some sleep, Ander. You look dead on your feet."
Dead.
"No, I can't sleep. I still have work to do, I have so much work to do, I can't just leave it like this, I have to finish it, Kiana, I have to finish it..."
"You're not going to finish anything like this. You're killing yoursel -"
"I'm killing my people!"
Kiana flinched, and Ander instantly hated himself for it. It was a sensation he was becoming quite familiar with.
"I'm sorry, Kiana. I didn't mean to yell at you. I'm just... this wall, and this damnable war, and -" He covered his eyes, not wanting to cry in front of her again. He was supposed to be strong now, not only for her, but for their unborn child as well. He was going to be a father, and fathers needed to be fearless. They had to do everything in their power to keep their families safe. Even if it meant...
Her touch was like a feather, slowly dragging along his face. "This is really eating at you, isn't it?"
He nodded, but didn't lower his hands. He didn't trust himself to look at her right now. All the love he felt for her has been doubled since the night she came to him with her secret - their secret now. It was just too much.
She worked her way beneath his arm and snuggled up against him, resting her head against his chest. "I see it every time I look at you. You haven't been eating. You haven't been sleeping. You've lost weight. Your clothes hang off your shoulders. It's like you've been poisoned, Ander."
This pass was so cold, but her body was so warm, pressed up against his. He couldn't even feel the wind anymore. Only her.
"I keep trying to think of something to say to you, something that will suck that poison out, but I can't. I want to tell you that those creatures are nothing but wild animals, monsters, demons, that your love and pity is wasted on them, and that you should rather save all those feelings for the ones who can return them. I want to tell you that you're not murdering your people, you're saving_your people, because _we are your people now. I want to tell you that you are the kindest person to ever live, just to think about crying for the ones who had nearly killed you with their hatred. I want to tell you all of these things, but I know... I know the poison will still remain, because you are the one poisoning yourself."
Ander opened his eyes. The horizon was blazing gold, ready to give birth to a new day. Or, perhaps... a last day.
"Are you trying to tell me I shouldn't feel like this? All this misery and anger and just - just this feeling like all those hundreds of lives are in my hands, and I can't let them fall, but there are too many and they're just too heavy and I can't do it!? Do you want me to just stop feeling all that, Kiana? Do you want me to just blow it out like a candle and that's that?"
"No, Ander." She gently ran her hand along his cheek. "That would be like asking you stop being you, and I love you. All I ask is that you try to understand that it isn't your fault."
"You don't understand, Kiana. I lived there my whole life. It was hell sometimes - no, most of the times, but... it wasn't always like that. Sometimes there were good things, too. Most times Wolves would trip me and spit in my hair while I was down, but sometimes, after the crowd drifted away, one would stay back to help me up. Most times Wolves would break anything I build and trample my work into the dust, but sometimes one would come to help me pick up the pieces. Most times Wolves would curse me for being so different, but sometimes one would come up to me and tell me not to listen to anything they say. All those things were a rarity, but they happened. There was always that spark, Kiana. That spark of hope that made me believe there was some good in that place, that there was some good in my people, but now... now even that tiny spark is in danger, and it's in danger because of me. I am the one preparing to snuff it out forever, and if that's not my fault, Kiana, whose is it?"
Ander didn't expect her to give him a real answer, but Kiana had a frightful way of surprising him when he least expected it. She grabbed his muzzle and wrenched his gaze away from the rising sun, forcing him to look into her eyes, now blazing with the same golden shine.
"You want to know whose fault it is? Well that's too bad, because there is no single culprit, no convenient scape goat to take all the blame. It is all the evil in every Wolf's heart that comes to destroy us, the darkness that lingers in every soul, given flesh and blood. It is a collective evil that gave birth to a monster called 'Hatred', and 'Hatred' spreads, consuming everything it touches. That's the difference between that world and this one, Ander. That one takes everything you hold dear, one by one, until you have nothing left. And it's normal. That's the most terrifying thing."
Ander has never seen her like this before. She was still holding him, but it didn't feel like an embrace anymore. There was no warmth in it, no tenderness. "Kiana, what are you saying? That didn't sound like you at all."
"That's because those words weren't mine. You said I don't understand, and I'll admit that. I never lived with those monsters, and even if I did, I don't have nearly enough compassion in my heart to come to love them as you did. But those words I spoke just now, they came from a Wolfess who understands completely, who lived in the exact same world as you did, and who lost everything because of it. I am talking about Mellah. She saw the evil in that place. She watched it build up over the years, and evil like that always goes after that which is _not_evil, that which is innocent. That is why it took her daughter, and that is why that same evil now comes to this valley. It comes to... Ander..." A tear fell from her eyes, molten gold in the morning sun, and broke upon her hands as she cradled her stomach. "It comes to take our -"
"No." Ander took her by the shoulders. "I won't let that happen. I promised, didn't I? I promised! So... Kiana, please..." He made to wipe her tears away, and Kiana took his hand and pressed it against her cheek, sighing softly.
"I am a very naïve Fox, Ander. And I am thankful for that. I have never lost family, and I have never felt the pain that comes with it, and I am so thankful. But... even though I've never felt that pain for myself, I've seen it up close. I've seen Sarah. I've seen the way she carries her burdens with a smile, keeping them secret from the ones she loves because she loves them too much to hurt them. I've seen your friend, Danado, and the way he blanks out, retreating into himself to escape the pain. I've seen the way Mellah hugs Sorrin and Renna so tightly, as if to make absolutely sure that nothing could ever rip them away. And I've seen you, Ander. I've felt your tears by the riverside, mixed with the rain. I've seen the way you stared at the mountain, wondering if you would ever see your little brother again. I looked into your eyes and I saw the cracks appear in your heart when you learned of your father's passing. I see all these things happening around me and I naively wish that it will never, ever happen to me. I have been so lucky, more lucky than I deserve, but I will gladly give up all of that luck, I will gladly take all of the pain that comes with it, if it means that I can pass my grace onto the little one growing inside of me, so that they will never, ever have to worry about feeling such loss. I will give anything to let them be born, to let them live and grow, to let them play and make friends and find love of their own someday. But none of that can happen if those monsters take the wall. Don't you see, Ander? They'll take everything we hold dear. They'll -"
Ander placed his hand over Kiana's and traced the gentle curvature of her belly. "They'll take our baby, before they even have a chance to earn a name..."
Kiana nodded once (it was all she could manage) and buried her face against his shoulder to muffle the cries.
Ander held her, comforted her, and made the same promise over and over again, that he would not let anything happen to her, her family, or their baby, no matter what.
The light of the new day finally reached their faces, but it wasn't warm, and it wasn't bright. All the gold had drained away, leaving it cold and grey like steel. Ander looked up and saw a thick bank of clouds gathering on the eastern horizon, looming with the wind.
The sun wouldn't be shining today.
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