Smoke was beginning to drift up through the streets, spreading from the fires on the plain. From where she was on the upper levels, Maltariel could see the glows from vineyards and planted fields burning – plots that had flourished in the sheltered, hidden plain for generations, nurtured and passed on as labours of love, now little more than ashes. The taste of smoke hanging on the air was the taste of defeat – of fear, and grief, mingling with the salt taste of tears. As she began to hurry down through the crowded streets, the young warden saw her own emotions reflected in the faces of others. Some she knew: family friends or neighbours, who had known her all her life, often as visitors to the joyful house her parents had always opened to friends. Others in the lower areas of the city were strangers – yet in their shared expressions there was a link forged which Maltariel knew could never be broken. The fear of children parted from parents bound on duty, the determination and strength in those garbing themselves to fight for the ones they loved, and the confusion of those who could not begin to understand the way their world had so suddenly changed – all these things bound them together as a people facing disaster, perhaps even more strongly than they had been bound through celebrations and shared lifetimes. Maltariel knew that however many of them managed to prevail, they would carry with them the memories of this day forever, even into the Undying Lands. Many still wore their flowing festival robes, flowers dropping from garlands to lie trodden into the paved streets. They were gathering again into their own circles of friends and family, collecting this time to fight rather than to celebrate, and the sight spurred her into a careful run down the sloping streets – anxious to find her own friends as soon as possible.
By the time she reached the deserted plaza, they were there waiting for her – Alassien and Orien holding her armour and weapons between them. All of them had already changed, Orien and Belfaer garbed in their Fountain-worked armour, swords and spears strapped ready across their shoulders. Alassien wore unmarked leather armour – unlike the rest of their small group she had wavered about what her future would hold, unsure whether she would do better to transfer her allegiance to a company outside the Fountain's guards. Now she hastily pulled Maltariel into a shaded archway, standing with Orien to block her from view as she quickly pulled off her gown and changed into her familiar armour, Orien's quick fingers helping to fasten straps almost as fast as she could pull the pieces on. Here on a lower level of the city, closer to the walls, Maltariel could hear the low rumble of the shrieking hoard on the other side, over the panicked noise of the city itself.
“What's the news?” She asked quickly, nodding her thanks to Orien as she finished arming herself – swinging the harness which held spear and javelins to settle lightly across her shoulders.
Alassien turned from scanning the neighbouring streets to answer her, a grim look on her usually merry face. “Lord Rog and his companies were the fastest to prepare – many of them have been sent down to the gates already. Any Swallow that gets within thirty feet of the walls is grabbed and sent up to the top to try and defend them – they say the enemy has brought machines to tear the walls down. I don't know about... well, I haven't heard any more about their House than that.”
“What about the others?” Maltariel interrupted, dismissing the stab of pain that came with those concluding words, and moving to stand beside Alassien as if she expected to see the rest of their friends hurrying up the street at any moment.
Alassien shook her head at her almost reproachfully, and answered, “Gone to their families, of course.”
Orien chimed in – unlike Alassien, who even at moments of crisis couldn't resist dealing in half pieces of useless information, she was sweet-tempered and eager to smooth things over. “Belfaer and I met our parents going together the barracks, when we were on the way to your house – and Alassien's brother was at home waiting for her. They all agreed that we should stay with you, and do whatever your parents think best.”
“Even me,” Alassien agreed, with a rather wry smile. Maltariel glanced at her keenly, then put a hand on her arm, shaking her head gently as Belfaer and Orien kindly pretended to be looking elsewhere.
Although none of them could easily speak of it, all of them had recognised Alassien's recent frustration – frequently she had made bitter suggestions that she should spend less time 'corrupting' such dedicated members of their House, or implying that they would be ashamed to sit with her on official occasions. All of them knew that her older brother, her last remaining family after the Nírnaeth Arnoediad, had been angry and disappointed when she announced that she could not dedicate herself to their father's order as he had, and as time had gone on and she had not settled on an alternative path, he had begun to pressure her to join the Fountains along with her friends. Maltariel could imagine that he would have had some harsh words for his sister, who even now had undoubtedly refused to join him in the ranks of the rest of the wardens even if she was willing to listen to the advice of Maltariel's parents, who had been glad to stand in as advisers and give consolation and love when her own house stood too empty. Now, Alassien shrugged slightly, apparently unwilling to discuss the issue, but pressed Maltariel's hand for a moment before she turned away, moving back into the open paved square.
“So, where do they want us?” she continued easily, Belfaer and Orien following her example and coming up to stand in a rough semi-circle, looking expectantly at Maltariel. “Will we join them in a death-defying defence of our Lord, or should we be closer to the walls?”
For a moment, Maltariel felt strangely weary. In her parents' eyes, she had already seen the truth which her optimistic, confident friends had not yet grasped: the city was gone. No defence could hope to defy death – their strength had been too much diminished by old losses, and the city was as much forced to rely on secrecy as eager to maintain it. Yet although all three of her companions knew that the fighting would be serious, and some of them even now carried the griefs which they knew came from such fighting, they still had not realised the full extent of the disaster.
It felt like crushing something precious to slowly shake her head, and explain carefully, “They don't want us to go and join them.”
“The walls, then?” Belfaer interrupted eagerly, flexing his wrist as he placed one hand on his sword-hilt. “Good – we will be able to tell what is going on from down there.”
Maltariel shook her head impatiently, and Orien hushed him, waiting patiently for Maltariel to finish what she was saying.
“My cousins have some vineyards out on the plain – on the slopes of the mountains,” she continued hastily, almost unsure how to convey the full details to her impatient friends. “You remember – we all went out there one summer when we were younger. The house they live in now, down by the walls, was built by my father's father when he established the vineyards – and there is a passage under the walls, that runs out to the mountainside.” Orien and Belfaer looked surprised, but Alassien nodded, remembering the time the two had sneaked down there as children to play at hiding in the dark passageway. “He knew it wasn't allowed, but he was always... independent – he didn't like having to use the main gates and give an account of where and when he was going. So he built it to be hidden in the walls of the cellar, and it comes out at the back of a cave in the mountainside, just above the vineyards. If you didn't know it was there, you wouldn't find it.”
Belfaer broke in again, although before he even began to speak, Maltariel knew that he still had not grasped the point, “So it needs securing – in case anything finds its way into the city through the cave? That's easy enough... I would be surprised if it needs all four of us.”
“You idiot!” Alassien suddenly exclaimed, rounding on him almost fiercely. “They don't want us to guard it, they want us to hide in it!” She turned back to Maltariel, expression angry. “Isn't that right? Your parents think we should hide away like frightened children.”
“But I don't understand,” Orien remarked, soft voice unusually anxious. “Are we supposed to wait there until the fighting is over, then return? Could we not wait somewhere inside the city, in that case? We can't use it to go anywhere – the plain is entirely overrun, and surely it would take a larger company than just us to do anything out among the enemy.”
Maltariel shook her head again, frustratedly brushing the strands of hair that fell loose away from her face. As she looked up, she caught Alassien's steady gaze, and in that moment it was as it always had been - without her saying anything, Alassien understood everything.
“Malta... they really think the city is lost?” Orien fell still immediately at those words, glancing between the two with wide, frightened eyes. Belfaer looked as if he might argue, but Maltariel's wretched nod prevented him.
“They want us to wait until the plains are clearer, and then try and get out – around the mountains. They do not... they think we should not stay in the city.”
As if summoned by her words, bearing doom swiftly towards them, the sounds of battle at the walls briefly intensified. The breeze brought with it screams of rage and fear, and a low, persistent thudding as of some kind of ram against a gate.
“But... then we must go back!” Orien suddenly broke out, turning as if she would flee back to her own house immediately. “We cannot simply leave them all to fight alone!”
Belfaer caught her arm, but it was Alassien who spoke, voice unusually grim and truthful. “We must not – Orien, we have said our goodbyes. There is no time to do anything else. If they are right... then there is no time for anything at all.”
Orien tried to pull away from Belfaer, and Maltariel sprang forward, catching her hand as if she would drag her with them. “Orien, please! My parents spoke to me... they said we had to go on, to be safe, whatever happens here. You know your parents would feel the same – if we too fall with the city, then nothing of what we have been here is preserved. Everything is lost. Please, Orien, stay with us. Let us do this together, so that we can spend the rest of our lives telling others of the glories of our beautiful city, and our lives, and our families' lives. It all has to mean something more than just destruction here!”
Orien fell still, and Maltariel took advantage of her quiet to release her hand, brushing away the tears that had broken through as she spoke of her parents, even through her resolve to show nothing – to be strong, and hopeful for her friends. Alassien was looking at her again, and when she could not speak further, her old friend stepped forward, laying one gentle hand on Orien's shoulder and reaching for Maltariel with the other.
“Come on. There is nothing we can do here – and we promised to obey whatever instructions we were given. We need to get down to the house.”
At Orien's slow nod, Belfaer moved up to wrap an arm around her waist in brief consolation, and Maltariel and Alassien moved away slightly, Alassien still holding tightly to Maltariel's hand as they both sought and gave comfort equally.
“Are you ready?” Alassien asked in a low voice, examining her face searchingly. Maltariel felt like it took a greater effort than any training session to nod and give her friend a small, reassuring smile.
Behind them, Belfaer spoke, his words breaking the silence of the small interlude they had all stolen. “Let's go. We need to hurry. Lead on, Maltariel. We will follow you.” Their trust fell like the weight of the city on her shoulders, but she nodded once more, and set off down the narrow streets to the battle-torn walls.
