War Against the Realm

by Sherri Beth Mitchell

  The fog inside dissipated and she finally understood what the man from Jevelas was trying to say. She was helped to her feet, where she stood in a daze at the scene before her. Before her eyes, her army seemed to be falling apart. Men and women were having coughing fits everywhere she looked, and many eyes were crusted with the greenish-brown mucus that had plagued the woman at the pond. Even their beasts of burden and what horses she could see had been affected.

  A sudden thought hit her. “She was trying to warn us.”

  “Who was?” Cambry asked.

  “The woman whose water we took. When I looked into her eyes, she kept looking from me to the water. She was trying to warn me that the water did that to her…and that it would do the same to us.”

  “You didn’t drink any of it, if I remember correctly, yes?” Dalton said, walking up.

  “No, I don’t think any of us did,” said Sir Grant gravely. “And what are we to do to help them?”

  “I-I don’t know,” Silvia stuttered. “Aldoa isn’t here to heal them.”

  Cambry threw his hands up in the air and laughed. “You’re joking, right?” His smile vanished and he pointed at her as though she were hiding something. “Clear your mind, Dragon Queen! You’ve the magic inside you! The gods have gifted you with this—use it!”

  “I do not know how,” she said, her voice rising angrily. “If I knew, I would do so!”

  “Then your people are doomed to die,” he said simply. “Those powers that you have may be all that can save them. I don’t care if you make up a spell that you don’t even know will work, but you can at least make an attempt before all lives here are lost. Show them you are their queen! Do not let any more perish than is necessary to survive, milady. You need your people as much as they need you.”

  Silvia groaned inwardly. She had no clue on how to heal. When she had healed Vyto’s feet, it had been because of Aldoa’s presence. So essentially, the goddess had healed him, and not her. She closed her eyes and took herself back to that moment, feeling the water on her hands as though she were still washing his feet. She felt the goddess’ magic as though it were a tangible thing. She caressed the memory, sensing there was something there that she could use, but nothing came to mind. She opened her eyes, and saw her soldiers collapsing; many lay on the ground, unmoving. She squeezed her emerald eyes shut angrily. Inside, her dragon began to stir and the magic it provoked within filled her to the brim. When she next lifted her eyes to what lay before her, her eyes were glowing with an eerie green light.

  Cambry took a step back in surprise. “Milady? Are you all right?”

  Her fiery green embers flicked over to him and he felt ice go down his spine.

  “Never better, Lord Cambry.”

  If the gods couldn’t deliver hope, then she would create it. Drawing in a deep breath, she focused on the partially clouded skies above them and began to speak in Kieluna. She raised her arms, throwing her head back so that the green light emanating from her eyes drifted up like beams of magic to a high point overhead. Clouds began to gather, swirling in the air above the army like a broiling storm. They darkened and loud thunder warned of the rain that was about to let loose upon them. The Queen of the Lystians took no notice, so absorbed in the magic she was trying to create with every fiber of her being.

  “Nie how un difas shisnae umth,” she whispered, meaning to ‘let the rain heal all’. With one last burst of magical effort, she brought her arms down, stopping them straight in front of her with the palms facing the ground.

  The skies began pouring rain, instantly soaking everyone and everything in sight. The torrent of rain was so hard that people were diving for shelter. Puddles formed and the ground quickly became swamp-like.

  After several minutes, Silvia closed her hands into fists and the rain stopped. The glow left her eyes and she blinked rapidly, jaw open in shock at the extent of her magic. All that lay before her appeared ruined as the clouds above disappeared and the sun returned to scorch the earth once more.

  No, all was not ruined.

  Her army bit by bit began to stir: the horses snorted and shook their heads to rid their ears of water. Men and women were crawling out from under wagons or rising up from where they had dove to the ground.

  They were alive. The greenish mucus had been washed off by the heavy rains, and the people were no longer coughing and hacking up greenish-brown bile. There were, however, a substantial number of those who did not rise, and never would again.

  Exhaustion hit Silvia and she sat down in the mud.

  “Silvia! Are you okay?”

  Dalton and Grant were at her side in an instant.

  “I’m fine. The magic just took a lot out of me.”

  “As well it should,” came a familiar voice.

  The trio looked up to see Firayis, and beside him was the God of War, Geldin, dressed in his finest fighting gear.

  Cambry’s eyebrows furrowed. “Why did you not help her? Why didn’t you help the army? Do you not see the dead mortals lying about your feet?”

  “I can no more help with healing than a mortal without magic. I am the God of Dreams—that is my specialty.”

  “And I am no better than he is,” Geldin said gruffly. “Only the Parent Gods, wherever they may be, can do all magic such as you desire. My sister Aldoa would help if she were here.”

  Geldin walked over and scooped Silvia up into his arms. He carried her over to her wagon and set her in the driver’s seat. “A queen should never sit in the mud, milady.”

  “My body is tired,” Silvia replied. Her limbs ached, though if she really wanted she could move around as needed. “I am not helpless, my Lord Geldin.”

  “We can see that,” he chuckled. His gray eyes pierced her own and held them. “Silvia, what you have just done is more than any mere mortal could have done alone. Wielding that amount of magic could have and should have killed you.”

  “But it didn’t,” she responded. She gestured around them. “And from the looks of it, my people were saved because of it. Well, some of them, at least.” Her face became solemn.

  “Just be careful when you use that much magic,” Firayis said. “Sometimes other gods can get jealous of mortals when they are too strong. Only use it when the necessity is great.”

  Silvia rolled her eyes. “Was my need not great just a few moments ago? My people were dying, my lord. Dying. My servant I have been with all my years is dead—gone before I could save her. I would do all of that again in a heartbeat and do it much faster if I could go back.”

  An angry murmuring filled the air around the wagon. Silvia stood shakily and turned around on the wagon to see the surviving members of her army approaching the wagon with their hands waving their weapons.

  Chapter Eighteen: Gods and War

  “What is the meaning of this?” Silvia called out.

  One man near the front spoke the answer loudly. “We want to know why all of us were sick yet you and your entourage of royalties remained in the best of health!”

  “Yeah!” another cried out. “How come you knew better than to drink the water but you let the rest of us swallow that poison?”

  “Watch your tongues,” Cambry yelled. “You speak to your Queen—not some commoner!”

  “Easy for you to say,” a woman said. “You didn’t watch people you care about die just a few minutes ago!”

  “You think I am a traitorous queen because I didn’t drink water?” Silvia said incredulously. “I cannot believe you would think this of me. Do all of you hold this thought in your minds?”

  Cries of agreement rippled through the army. The wagon shook as General George climbed up beside her, and then on top of the wagon itself.

  “Hear me, you blabbering fools, and harken well. Your queen knew there wasn’t enough water for everyone to drink. Do you blame her more than you blame the other poor fools of the regiments that got no water because it ran out before they got to it? Do they deserve your mistrust as well? Watch who your tongue tries to
poison,” he warned them. “Queen Silvia refused to drink so that others could. Myself and the members of her company did the same out of respect for her. We went without so that everyone else could partake in the water and not be parched. Blame her for being humane? Preposterous! The very idea is pure lunacy. The Goddess of Humanity must be frowning upon you all right now from wherever she is.”

  “And to think that she nearly drained all of her energy to create a healing storm so that you could live,” Prince Dalton called out from the ground. His sword was brandished and he was ready to fight every person there to protect the queen. “This is how you show appreciation for your lives? We all regret the lives lost to the poisoned water—every one of us, including your queen. Perhaps you do not care that her most faithful servant fell to the sickness and passed away before she could be saved? Even now your Queen’s heart breaks for her, yet you stand and accuse your queen of wicked treachery! Shame on you for your petty thoughts!”

  Embarrassed expressions replaced hostile ones, and many looked away with regret at having thought such a thing of their leader.

  “Respect your queen as you would want others to respect you,” Dalton continued. “Her decisions are on a much grander scale and carry much more weight. Even the simplest of things such as water can be turned against her. Yet she loves her people and saves them despite their deceitful thoughts. She is not even my queen, yet I yield to her and bow to her as though she were because I respect her and the choices she has to make. Next time I would choose who to be mad at a little more carefully. It was not she who poisoned that pond. No doubt it was a trick of our enemies to slow us down and cut our numbers.”

  “My feelings exactly,” said Lord Cambry, stepping forward. “Who has reason to poison an old woman on a farm in the middle of nowhere—a farm that they know an army must pass by on their way to war? Think on that a moment. Those damned witches of Rohedon are out to stop us by any means necessary. What’s an old woman to them but a rung on a ladder to help them climb farther up? Have none of you realized that it was our foes that have done this?”

  He received nods of agreement from many of the soldiers.

  “Do not forget why we are here in the first place,” George spoke up again. “We go to war, ladies and gentlemen of the Lystian Queen’s army. We do not go to cavort and carry on with the enemy and take expensive trips around the countryside.” Here he paused a moment to give more effect. “There will be pain. There will be death. But your Queen leads you to war for a reason.”

  Silvia stepped up onto the top of the carriage as well, hoisting her soaked dress up so that she wouldn’t trip. “What do you think will happen if Rohedon’s army defeats Lordale? Do you think such power-hungry people will stop there? I think not! They will spread like a disease across the land, trying to oust all of the leaders they can and take their places. They will stop at nothing to stop us! We are a threat to them, and they know it. They know we will not be bullied into submission and that we will fight them until they are defeated!”

  Lord Cambry walked in front of the throng of soldiers, choosing his words carefully. “Before you stands the Dead Queen, daughter of King Zacharias and Queen Madeline, reborn into greatness as the Dragon Queen of Lystia. Behold… the Bringer of the Gods!”

  A murmur of wonder flitted through the crowd, hushed whispers trying to determine if he was a soothsayer or a charlatan. Most of the men and women in the army were completely oblivious to the fact that there were, indeed, gods among them.

  “Oh, you did not know?” Cambry said with a laugh. He turned and gestured towards the wagon. “Beside that wagon stand none other than Firayis, the God of Dreams, and Geldin, the God of War! Take to your knees, mortals!”

  “Lies!” a woman yelled. “Firayis has not been seen by human eyes in centuries. Why should he show himself now? And Geldin has not been around either—they care not for us mortals!”

  Firayis stepped forward, glimmers of tiny silver and white flecks of sand threading through his hair and clinging to his clothes. “Doubt is such a dangerous tool for a mortal,” he said. He spoke very quietly, yet all within the army heard his voice as though he were whispering in their ears. “Yes, it is true I have been gone long. Yet I have returned now, and you ask why? Gods need not answer to mortals, so why should I go so far as to oblige your sudden curiosities?”

  Geldin placed a hand upon Firayis’ shoulder, taking a place beside him. His great sword remained in its sheath upon his back, and many eyes were upon it and knew the legend who wielded such a weapon. “We have both been drawn to your new queen for a purpose. We do not yet know what that purpose is, but our place is here supporting her. If she has the backing of the gods, must you continue to question her authority or her actions?” He glanced at Firayis. “Perhaps we should leave these mortals to their fates, dear Firayis. Belief in the gods is beyond them.”

  “Wait, do not leave us!” The woman who had moments before accused Cambry of lying pushed her way through the crowd and fell to her knees. “I believe! I believe in you and in your faith to our queen. Long live Queen Silvia!”

  Shouts rose as the army began chanting, “We believe! Long live the queen!” They fell to their knees, prostrating themselves before the godly beings before them.

  A tingling feeling tickled the back of Geldin’s neck. “Quiet!” he shouted, holding out his arms.

  Something wasn’t right.

  He cocked his head to the side and listened. The people began to rise uncertainly to their feet, wondering what was going on.

  Firayis did a full circle, staring in each direction. “I feel it as well. Something is…off.”

  A moment later, Geldin rushed to the front of the cart, peering into the distance. Firayis was by his side instantly, and the queen and her general also looked in that direction from atop the wagon. Far off and to the right, emerging from the thick forest, was a small group of riders. They were riding their horses as though the very Hound of Death was at their heels. They were yelling, but their words were lost in the space between them and the army.

  “My Queen, there are riders behind us!”

  Silvia rotated her head to see that there were, undeniably, more riders coming their way. In fact, they were coming from several directions.

  She frowned. “I do not recognize their clothing. Those are not our men.” Her dragon stirred within her and she became alarmed as she realized it was trying to warn her: blood was in the air.

  Suddenly, General George staggered next to her. Silvia saw with horror that an arrow protruded from his chest.

  “My…my lady,” he sputtered.

  He reached out to her, but stumbled and fell into her instead. The air was knocked out of her as she flew backwards off of the wagon. In the blink of an eye, Geldin caught her and rolled to the side as George’s body landed with a dull thud next to them. The god regained his feet, and helped the queen up.

  “Firayis, is the Lystian King still sleeping?” he growled.

  “Yes, and with me soon by his side to watch over him,” the God of Dreams answered, and disappeared inside the wagon quickly.

  Hans picked up Maura’s body and carried it over to the wagon, scooting it underneath. “I will bury you myself, darling Maura, just as soon as all is done.” He wiped a single tear from his eye and reached up behind the wheel of the cart to a hidden compartment. He pulled out the short sword hidden there and strapped it to his side. Then came the spare bow with a quiver of arrows; he slung them on his back as he stood up.

  The army surged around the Queen’s entourage, grabbing their weapons to have at the ready as they formed a protective circle around the wagon. There was the clanging of metal as shields were detached from horses and taken out of wagons.

  Geldin looked Silvia up and down. “Can you fight?”

  She unsheathed her sword in response and nodded grimly. Prince Dalton, Lord Cambry, Duke Byarne, and Sir Grant took up defensive positions in an arc around Silvia.

  “By the gods, but we s
hall spar a bit today my friends!” Cambry called out over his shoulder. His eyes glinted with mischief and he swung his sword around to loosen his wrists.

  The God of War smiled grimly as the enemy charged out of the forest towards them, unleashing hundreds of arrows into the sky towards the Lystian army. “Yes, we shall.”

  Quentin flew to the front, urging his horse to go as fast as its legs would carry it. Its sides were covered in lather and he knew none of their horses would make it much longer without a break; however, he refused to stop on behalf of the horse. To get to his king and queen, he would run the horse into the bloody ground first.

  Aldoa and Emaree apparently felt the same way, as they were on either side of him, leaning forward as their horses raced across the countryside. They heard the commotion well before they saw it as they crested a small hummock. The entire army was under attack from all sides. The attackers were running circles around the outskirts of the army, firing arrows at the most vulnerable soldiers as their horses galloped past. The Lystians seemed to be bogged down by mud from a recent rain, and were having problems with their horses getting stuck, or with their boots being suctioned down by the mire-like ground. There were many, many Lystians who were sprawled upon the ground, as wells as animals, with no arrows sticking out of them. Quentin had a brief moment to curse the Dark Moon before they plunged into the array. He drew his sword from the sheath on his back as he rode straight into the army with but one thought: get to the king and queen.