Arrows of Ladis

by RG Long

  Yada shook her head.

  “We went to war with such ideas in our heads. Though, not all of us.”

  She inclined her head at Holve, who had not yet spoken a word. Apparently, he didn't think now was an invitation to do so either.

  “We fought bitterly,” Yada said. “But we were, at the last, betrayed and defeated.”

  Blume shook her head.

  “I’m sorry, Your Holiness.”

  “Ma’am will do just fine, thank you,” Yada said.

  “Ma’am,” Blume corrected herself. “We’ve only been here a few days and had a lot happen in that short time. No one had actually taken the time to explain the war that everyone keeps talking about. I know it had to do with magic and the church but...”

  “Magic and the church?” Yada said, shaking her head. “Oh child. It is so much more than that.”

  With a wave of her hand, the room went dark. Every candle that emitted light now gave off a cold, blue flame. Shadows played on every wall. Blume looked around scared, grabbing for her necklace, but not sure what to do. A small burst of green magic leapt from her fingertips but was absorbed into the blue flames. The green and blue danced on the walls, then leapt to the ceiling.

  Then she could see the things Yada spoke of played out in shadows and light on the wooden beams there.

  “Ladism promoted the killing of all who did magic. They said that it was a blessing to us. That if we died, then those who were faithful could live in peace.”

  Images flashed above Blume’s head. A mother holding a child. A spear flying through the air. A woman weeping over a lifeless body. A prophet standing at the front of an angry crowd. A mob burning down a village.

  “But we did not desire to lose our loved ones without a fight!”

  An army. An army of Speakers came marching into view. Each wearing a black half star on their chest. Each holding a blue flame, then tossing it at a palace. A castle larger and more ancient than Blume had ever seen. It rose from a cliff with walls as tall as mountains and towers that touched the sky.

  “Victory was close at hand,” Yada said. “But then, we were betrayed and defeated.”

  A bright flash of light. A screaming man. A wolf of light. A comet.

  As quickly as the visions of the past had come, they faded. The room’s light went back to its previous hues and Blume let her chin fall back to its resting place. Her neck ached from looking up for so long.

  “What happened?” she asked, finding a tear in her eye for all of the hurt and pain that she had seen.

  Yada waited to answer. The guards in the room had taken up their positions again. Behind her, Blume heard the unsteady shuffling of her comrades as they adjusted themselves as well. What strange magic they had seen today.

  “Someone betrayed us,” Yada said. “The very moment when victory should have been ours, those loyal to Ladism unleashed a power too great for us to handle. We were scattered and beaten. Defeated. I lost my best soldiers and friends that day. I lost many generals. What remained of my army fled back to our islands to recover. It’s been thirty years since that day.”

  The old woman looked from Blume to just over her shoulder. Blume turned and followed her gaze.

  “Isn’t that right, Holve Bravestead?”

  “Thirty-one, by my calculations,” he said through gritted teeth. “Nearly to the very day.”

  “Ah, I see the bitter memory lives within you as well, Master General and Tactician.”

  Blume thought there was something amiss in Yada’s voice. Everyone else from this army had so far treated Holve as an enemy. A traitor. There was something else in the ruler of the island’s voice.

  Pain?

  “Step forward, Holve Bravestead.”

  The command was not given harshly, but Blume still felt the power within it. She took a step back, letting Holve take her place. She continued to back up until she bumped into someone.

  “Woah, Blume.”

  It was Ealrin. She felt his hand on her shoulder and she immediately felt comforted.

  “You did great,” he whispered in her ear. She nodded her thanks and returned her attention to Holve.

  “I wish I could say that I was glad to see you,” Yada said, looking down at Holve from her perch. “But your return comes with a certain amount of questions that need to be answered.”

  The guards around the room shifted slightly. Blume took note of their fingers gripping their swords a little tighter. They all seemed to stand a little taller. Blume could feel the tension in the room gripping them all.

  “How is it,” Yada continued, looking down at Holve with a mixture of disappointment and anger. “That you alone of all my generals survived the final assault on the Imperial Palace? When victory seemed assured, you were at the forefront of my army, leading us into the final charge. Then that horrible explosion and crushing weight came with all the force of a comet. The Ladis troops charged from their castle, broken free of the siege we had laid upon them for a week. My forces were scattered. Our final push was turned against us and we retreated in shame as all of our efforts lay wasted upon the field of battle.”

  Blume listened with rapt ears. This was no small battle Holve had led. This was a war on a large scale.

  “We thought you dead. We thought you were crushed beneath the boots of our enemies. We mourned you in our defeat. And then rumors of your escape reached us. That you had been carried to safety when so many were killed.”

  Yada was breathing deeply now. Her dark face was becoming flushed and her eyes narrowed.

  “You ran when we needed you most. You escaped when others died to see your grand plan implemented. You spoke of sacrifice and leading the charge and putting the lives of others above your own.”

  With what looked like a great amount of difficulty, Yada stood from her couch. A guard rushed to her side, but she waved him away. From the same table that her water goblet had been sent to, she called a cane to her side. Using it with very deliberate steps, she came down from her platform.

  “You abandoned us. You ran from us. At a time when retaliation could have been mounted and your genius skills put to use, you fled.”

  With these last words, Yada now came face to face with Holve. Or she would have. Blume took a moment to appreciate just how tall Yada was. She stood a good head over Holve. The sight was intimidating. Her robes flowed behind her and she stood as a beacon of light.

  Holve, on the contrary, stood unflinching and at attention, like he knew what was going to happen next. Blume, however, raised an eyebrow.

  He had always seemed so brave and smart. Would he really have run from a group that needed him so desperately?

  “Before I answer, Your Holiness...”

  Blume heard a distinct change in Holve’s voice. She couldn’t place the emotion he was giving off, but she could definitely hear something in the man’s voice she hadn’t heard before.

  It worried her.

  “Is there any answer I could give that would take away the rage you’ve felt for the past three decades?”

  Yada narrowed her eyes at Holve.

  Ealrin’s hand returned to Blume’s shoulder and she instinctively clutched at her necklace.

  “No.”

  At the exact moment Yada said that one word, she cast her cane aside and raised her hands into the air. Blume saw it coming, the magic being drawn out of the Rimstone, the power coming from her hands.

  She jumped, shoving herself in between Holve and Yada. She drew as much power into her thoughts as she could and, as she had done only once before, saw in her mind’s eye a place. A place where there were few trees, and grassy plains, and the jungle foliage in the distance.

  A place to run.

  A green light folded them all into its warm embrace, before Blume felt the cold sensation of rushing water.

  And then nothing.

  23: Not Boss

  Fire filled the evening sky and smoke hung low in the cool evening air. The last few sounds of battle died away
and the feasting had begun.

  Snart loved the feasting.

  Veiled Ones would eat fish or other smaller lizards if they needed, but to be strong and able to fight the humans who inhabited the jungle, they needed larger prey. That meant they would eat each other if they had to. More preferably, however, to keep their numbers strong, they needed to eat something other than each other.

  People were a better choice by far.

  In the cool, lonely night, the cries of pain and pleading of victims filled the air.

  The screams of the humans pleased Snart. He hadn’t heard a good screaming in a long time. It had been many days since their last attack on a human settlement and now the Veiled Ones remembered their appetite for the tasty people.

  Snart had found out that he prefered the skinny ones to the bigger, more bulky humans. This meant he often got the pick of the remains as most of his kind was more willing to feast on the bigger ones.

  This also meant, however, that it was hard to sneak a bite when other hungry Veiled ones saw him eating alone.

  An orange lizard just as large as he was dropped down from the trees above and licked his lips at Snart and his current meal.

  “Ssshare with me,” the lizard hissed through bloody teeth. Snart could tell this would not be the first meal this lizard ate. Neither was it his, for that matter. And sharing was not what he meant. This lizard was ready for a fight.

  “Kill your own meatssss,” Snart replied, licking his lips and gulping down the bite he was gnawing on. It tasted good. This was a young human and Snart liked them best. He wasn’t about to give up his meal without a fight.

  Which, he saw in the eyes of this orange challenger, was exactly what he was going to get.

  A group of other lizards dropped from the trees and landed all around them. Most had already eaten their fill and would enjoy watching a good fight. Snart looked around. He didn’t see any other orange lizards, which was good for him. No one would come to the rescue of this lower color. He was in luck.

  Snart hissed and gurgled his mouth at the lizard, challenging him to a fight. He took his spear from his meal and pointed it menacingly at his potential food thief.

  “Rather killsss you,” the orange lizard said, picking up two stones with his webbed hands.

  Snart smiled with anticipation. This lizard wasn’t too bright. Stones would only be good if you could throw well or keep them in your hands. The better weapon for a lizard was what he held in his own claws.

  The fires of the village cast strange shadows on the two as they circled each other. Red and yellows mixed with the dark haze of smoke and night. Snart kept one eye on his challenger and another on the crowd gathering around them. It was growing larger by the moment.

  “Knowsss you,” the orange one hissed. “Grac, knowsss you. Wantsss to be boss, bosss. Wantsss to be lizard lordsss.”

  Snart snapped his jaws and jabbed with his spear. The lizards that had made a circle around them hissed in appreciation. They liked a good fight. Snart would give them one.

  The orange one leaped at him with both stones high in the air. Snart dashed out of the way before the lizard hit the ground where he was standing just a moment ago hard with the stones. The sickening crunch was the sound of Snart’s meal being ruined. He wouldn’t let the challenger get away with that.

  He spun to stab with his spear, but Grac, the dirty trickster swiped with his tail.

  Veiled Ones had massive tails that allowed them to balance when they leapt from tree to tree. It also aided them in battle. Snart was hit in the middle and sent sprawling by the great appendage. Rolling to recover, he found himself facing down Grac as he ran at him again.

  A stone came flying at Snart, which he dodged, but he knew the missile was just a distraction. Trying to keep his spear tip pointed out at Grac, he saw that the lizard hadn’t gotten what he wanted: Snart to look away.

  He leapt again, this time with only one rock in hand. Snart was ready. Instead of dodging or swerving out of the way, he held his spear tip up. Grac tried to swing it aside with his tail again but missed.

  With all the force of his jump, he landed right on Snart’s spear.

  Grac’s eyes went wide as the tip went right through him. He screamed in pain, then fell silent.

  Snart, recovering from his position on the ground, got up and pulled his spear free.

  Then turned to see three more oranges, who had been watching from just outside the shadows. They dropped by their fallen comrade, who they had apparently no interest in helping just moments ago, and now seemed to hold Snart in contempt.

  “Pay for that,” one of them said, snarling. “Yessss. You’ll pay for that.”

  Snart raised his precious spear, darkened by the blood of the fallen lizard and snarled back.

  “Killsss you all,” he said. “I’ll killsss you all!”

  His words were loud and clear. The thumping and tapping of spears and rocks all around them was getting the Veiled Ones into a fury. The more they banged their spears on the rocks and beams of old houses, the more Snart felt the rage of the moment boiling up inside him.

  Suddenly, several blue lizards dropped down in between Snart and the angry oranges. They held their metal spears out towards both sides of the argument. In the middle of them all came Sharc. In his hand he held out his own personal spear: a much larger weapon than most other Veiled Ones wielded. Next to him came a lizard holding the standard of the boss. It was just a piece of dirty white fabric stretched over two branches made into a cross. The fabric had three claws in human blood on them.

  It was Sharc’s claws dipped in his first kill since the congregation left the caves. To carry a banner was a sign of arrogance. A banner would be seen even when the Veiled Ones hid in the jungle foliage. It was a sign of power.

  Sharc was on them in an instant.

  “Ssstop it,” he hissed. “No more ffffighting.”

  The lizard’s eyes flashed red as he looked at Sharc.

  “Causssing trouble?” he hissed. He was pointing his spear at Snart, getting dangerously close to him with its jagged edge.

  Snart set his spear on the ground and stood up at his full height.

  “Not causing,” he said defiantly. “Ending.”

  Sharc hissed at this.

  “Causing,” he challenged. All around them, more and more lizards began to pound their spears and rocks in a rhythmic beat that joined up an echo into the night. The fire itself seemed to ebb and flow with the new rhythmic pattern.

  “Been trouble since we left,” Sharc said as he began to pace back-and-forth, pointing his spear at Snark. His eyes flashed red in the firelight.

  “Snart is weak,” he said. Snart is trouble. Snart is dead.”

  The Veiled Ones’ boss raised his spear to the night sky. The trial had begun.

  Snart smiled inwardly, though on the outside he maintained a fierce face. This was the opportunity he’d been looking for. This was the chance he wanted.

  Taking his spear off the ground, he held it in his claws and readied himself for the trial.

  The Veiled Ones valued strength, even though the ability to strike and then fade back into the shadows was the most crucial weapon in the lizards’ arsenal.

  But the trial could never be brought about by a usurper. Only the boss could challenge those who he deemed weak in his eyes.

  In the past, the old bosses would challenge weak and insignificant lizards, just to show that they were still capable of killing.

  Sharc was not any of the old bosses.

  Recently he had begun challenging more and more stronger lizards. Veiled Ones who he probably thought could fight for control of the congregation.

  Which is exactly what Snart wanted.

  Sharc let out a hiss and a screech as he charged at Snart. Defending himself with the spear he held in his hands, Snart knew this was going to be a desperate battle. He managed to deflect the blow, but still received a scratch across his face from Sharc’s claws.

  With h
is own webbed hand, he punched the belly of Sharc before rolling to the side. Sharc’s spear came down hard on the ground beside him, missing him only by a claw.

  Snart was back on his feet, spear in hand and panting. His eyes were narrowed as he saw Sharc begin to blend in with his surroundings.

  The most skilled of the old ones could blend into a crowd of humans without being seen, but a fair bit of magic was needed to increase their natural abilities.

  Sharc was a gifted shifter.

  Before he could complete transformation Snart leapt out at him, clumsily attacking his adversary before he was able to blend in and disappear. His swift attack managed to land a blow, but it cost him.

  He felt the tip of Sharc’s spear graze his side.

  Lizards cheered at the sight of fresh blood. Snart winced at the pain but didn’t let it make him lose focus. If this fight was going to mean anything, he would need to stay in it.

  Turning to see Sharc coming with another blow, Snart changed tactics. He kicked up some rocks from their feet at Sharc, getting some in his mouth and eyes. The lizard boss recoiled at this and scrambled back, clawing at his own face to remove the debris.

  Snart took his chance. He leapt with his spear at Sharc’s unprotected belly and felt his attack strike true. His spear went into the other lizard’s flesh, but not too deeply and not in the center of his stomach, like Snart had intended.

  But now it wasn’t only his blood on the floor.

  More cheers came from the crowd, though these seemed confused. Sharc had never once been bested in a contest. That was why he was their leader. Snart was now the only lizard who had made their boss bleed.

  That thought brought a smile to Snart’s face.

  The commotion happening all around the battle was growing more and more chaotic. Lizards were jumping up and down, banging their spears, and cheering on the fight. All different colors of Veiled Ones began to push and shove and bite and claw at one another.