The Champion's Ruin

by Kristen Banet

  “Since I realized it was the only way to make you hurt as much as I had. She always told me I could get in touch with her when I realized you were at fault for all of this. Not just anyone, Luykas. You. Her own fucking son. You turned your back on her and started all this. I lost my hand for you. We lost the war because of you. You, who could have stopped the war sooner if you helped her. We would be citizens of the Empire instead of what we are now!”

  “You have lost your mind,” Luykas whispered, seeing the blazing fury. “She has played you. She’s always been good at piano, but I think she played you like her favorite instrument, the harp. She’s made you sing with a simple lie because you didn’t have a mind strong enough for her. When did you flip, Learen?”

  “When you came back from attacking Elliar and freeing Mat and Rain, completely unharmed. And her…that Champion all of you love so much. You went and pissed her off for your own reasons, knowing it would blow back on all of us. You and Alchan never cared about anyone except your favorites.”

  Luykas licked his lips and tasted magic. His mother had put a deep and powerful spell on him years ago. The moment she got desperate, she had sprung her trap. Shadra had always loved games, and they had played a long one for a thousand years, tit for tat between the Andinna and the Empire. The Ivory Shadows had never been a real threat.

  Not until we walked into her city and took back two of our own and her most prized possession. Then we became a real threat, and she sprang her trap.

  She used Learen to attack us in Olost. She’s using him now to destroy our chances to win this war.

  “Trevan, take him outside,” Luykas ordered.

  Trevan jumped forward, grabbing the Andinna. Trevan was smaller but faster, quicker, even stronger. He worked his body while Learen let his missing hand go to his head and ruin him on that front.

  “How?” Learen snarled. “How did you find out? I was perfect!”

  “Your wife is more loyal to her people than to you,” Luykas answered. Learen roared. Luykas followed them out as Trevan shoved Learen to the ground.

  Learen tried to jump up, but Nevyn and Varon took their moment to strike. In the blink of an eye, Learen was on the ground, screaming. Nevyn and Varon were spinning their blades covered in blood, flinging red onto the pure white snow. Learen’s wings were five feet on either side of him, permanently separated. Even if Learen wasn’t going to die, he would never fly again.

  “Bind him,” Luykas ordered sharply.

  Nevyn and Varon took off their own belts, then went to Learen’s back and cut off the blood flow to the bleeding stumps where wings used to be.

  “Hang him up. He’ll hang until the next sunset, so all of our people know what happens to traitors.”

  “Alive?” Trevan asked softly.

  “Yes. When that is over, he’ll lose his head,” Luykas answered, turning to walk away. “Meet me in the clearing at home when you’re ready. I need a moment to…”

  “I’ll be there,” Trevan promised. “I’m going to help them.”

  Luykas knew that would be his answer. As he walked away, Willem, Gentrin, and Seanev appeared, running past him to help with the rest. He sat quietly outside his brother’s home and waited.

  Alchan and Mave executed people. Alchan gave the orders and until Mave, he killed them. Luykas had never had that power before. Say a single word and a life ended. A warrior in battle was trying to survive first and foremost. This was different. He realized in that moment the defining difference between him and Alchan. His brother could do this without flinching.

  And I’m here hoping I never have to give this order again.

  So Luykas took a quiet moment to himself on his brother’s steps, drawing strength from the mere thought of his brother. Only a moment though.

  He would be there tomorrow when they cut off the bastard’s head.

  42

  Trevan

  Trevan stood in the center of the village, staring at Learen, rage in his heart. This male had tortured Dave. He admitted it once his wings were cut off, and they were hanging him. He had laughed about how Dave screamed.

  Now, Learen was getting what he deserved. Trevan could accept this brutal execution. There was a rawness that spoke to everyone who saw it. This male, with his wings cut off, was separated from them—separated from their beliefs and their honor. This was a disgraceful way to die and would go with him into the afterlife, Trevan heard some whisper.

  The sun was setting, and he waited. People began to gather as if they knew. No proclamation had been made, but they knew.

  Trevan caught sight of Luykas walking toward them and the beams from which Learen hung. It was a ramshackle build, only meant to last a single day.

  “Let’s go,” Luykas ordered.

  Trevan fell into his step, marching with Luykas to the center of the circle forming around the traitor. The Andinna kept it clear within twenty feet. Some were flying in the air to get a better view.

  “Today, we execute Learen of the Andinna for treason and murder. Does anyone wish to speak up for him?” Luykas asked the crowd. It was silent. “Good. You would have joined him. I absolve myself of his death and hand over the right to kill him to someone who deserves her piece of his flesh.”

  Luykas grabbed Trevan and pulled him back as he stepped away.

  Senri stormed into the center of the circle as if she was going to war. Even heavily pregnant, she carried her notorious battle axe. Above him, Trevan saw Nevyn and Varon untying the broken Andinna. They lowered him to the ground, forcing him onto his knees while Nevyn kept his foot on the male’s back.

  Nevyn was fearless as Senri prowled closer, her teeth bared. Trevan was certain Nevyn was going to lose a few toes from his placement. If Senri was even a little off, he could lose half his foot. But the warrior and general didn’t move, waiting patiently as Senri came closer and closer.

  “This is for my family,” she hissed, swinging her battle axe to raise it high above her head. “This is for the Andinna!”

  With a roar, she brought it down. Nevyn’s foot disappeared, and the axe cut through Learen’s neck in one swing, sending it rolling away.

  “Bury the body,” Luykas said, still full commander—still angry. “He doesn’t deserve to become ashes and join with the wind. He can go to the worms and feed our crops for generations.”

  Trevan nodded, satisfied.

  “Trevan, come home with me,” Luykas whispered as people around them began to cheer at the final verdict. Senri was holding Learen’s head up and roaring. Drums began to beat loudly. It was as if the world was waiting for Learen to die, so they could come alive once more.

  “Okay…” Trevan followed him out of the crowd. They made it to the clearing everyone in the Company lived near now, and Luykas grabbed him, flying him up. Once they were inside, Luykas began to pull off his clothing, leaving Trevan speechless.

  “Ah, Luykas, I’m sorry, but I’m not…”

  “You’re an attractive man, but that’s not why I’m taking my clothes off. You have been in Anden for over a year now, yes? Well, I’ve been impressed. By your loyalty, your dedication to our people. By the way you’ve embraced our beliefs and how we live. I’m going to try giving you tatua. I want to make you one of us. I want to give all of those motherfuckers a sign that you belong to us. You belong with us.”

  “But…” Trevan tried to find the words. “I can’t fly. I don’t have horns—”

  “Mave gave you wings,” Luykas hissed. “And while you don’t have them anymore, and I’m sorry for that, you have proved yourself better than all of them!” Luykas pointed at the door. “You deserve wings for your sacrifice. You deserve a community to live in, and I’m going to make sure that we’re that community.”

  “This is a blood ritual, though. What if it only works on Andinna? Has it ever been done to someone else? I’m Elvasi. I don’t…belong…to the dragon gods,” Trevan pointed out.

  “I’m certain if you wanted to belong to them, they would accep
t you,” Luykas said softly, now nude in the middle of the room. “But it doesn’t matter. We have no idea if this only works on Andinna since only Andinna have done it to other Andinna. However, I’m not purely Andinna. My blood is just as much Elvasi. I can do Alchan’s tatua. Why not you?” Luykas asked at the end, smirking. “So, we’re going to try. I don’t know what else to give you, my friend. I can’t go get another gryphon, and I can’t give you wings, but I can try to give you this. Now, strip. This is a ritual done in the buff.”

  Trevan started removing his clothing, turning away from Luykas. He still wasn’t fully comfortable getting naked in front of strangers, but Luykas didn’t seem to notice. When he turned around, two stools were set up with two bowls and a dagger. The larger bowl had water in it.

  “Do you really think this will work?” Trevan asked softly.

  “Yes. Sit.” Luykas pointed at the stool. “Let’s do this quickly. I don’t want either of us getting cold feet. I want to do it, and you are going to accept my gift.”

  Trevan sat and watched Luykas cut open his wrist as he sat down, obviously careful every drop fell into the bowl.

  Trevan’s heart was racing. He couldn’t be Andinna. No matter what he did or how hard he prayed or fought or worked for it, it was impossible, but tears filled his eyes as he realized this was really happening. That Luykas was going to try to give him this was more of a gift than he had ever wanted. He would have never asked because it never even crossed his mind.

  Luykas had thought of him and saw a warrior who belonged.

  “Close your eyes and lean your head back,” Luykas said, his voice now gentler with a small shake. “Let’s hope this works, my friend.”

  Trevan tilted back, closed his eyes, and felt the warm blood touch his skin and begin to move.

  Then he lost consciousness.

  He saw flashes of dragons flying through the sky. Six of them, deadly and beautiful. He could feel their raw power. They swarmed, coming together, then broke apart—a dangerous dance.

  One was a shimmering white, purer than snow or ivory. When the sun hit it, it shined. A voice whispered in his head.

  Lariana.

  Next, one of so many colors, he couldn’t pick one—pinks, purples, and shades of red and blue.

  Amonora.

  A red dragon shot flames from its mouth and roared.

  A blue dragon dove into a lake beneath them.

  A green dragon flew close to the treetops and landed onto the earth, hitting a boulder with its tail and breaking it to pieces.

  Finally, a grey dragon flew fast, sending winds that were strong enough to send Trevan to the ground.

  They had to be the four elemental male dragons. Trevan had never heard their names, and no one whispered those names to him now.

  As he tried to stand, something walked toward him, making the ground shake. This one was the biggest, towering high and was blacker than the void. It looked down on him and growled.

  Kristanya.

  He moved to his knees and bowed. He knew what to do.

  Yes. I accept you, the dragons, as my gods, if you will have me. Please have me. I have not known peace in my life, no place I truly loved. Not until I was accepted by your people. I would like to remain. I would do anything to remain among them.

  He didn’t look up. The black dragon sniffed him, then roared.

  He woke up screaming, sweat covering his body. He was still naked on the floor, with Luykas over him.

  “You’re awake! That’s never happened before. I’m so sorry.” Luykas stopped, his mouth dropping open, but Trevan didn’t understand.

  “I saw them,” he whispered. “I didn’t really know if they were real because the Elvasi don’t…don’t put much stock in the gods anymore, but I saw them.”

  “The Elvasi gods?” Luykas asked, frowning. “That—”

  “No. Dragons,” he whispered.

  Luykas’ eyes went wide. Slowly, he reached out to get something and held it above Trevan’s face.

  Trevan looked in the little mirror and saw his eyes first. The pale gold was now framed in Andinna black, not white. He had a soft rose-gold tatua covering his face, not the harsh black of an Andinna or the bright color of a mutt. It didn’t matter. It was there.

  They had irrevocably changed him. There was no going back.

  “Everyone is having dreams and visions of the gods now, I guess,” Luykas muttered. “Don’t go on any fucking quests. This is getting really annoying, and I fucking need you around.”

  Trevan laughed. He laughed until he cried as Luykas rubbed his back.

  “Let it out,” the Andinna whispered. “You’re one of us now. You belong with us.”

  Trevan nodded wordlessly.

  For the first time in centuries—he belonged.

  43

  Mave

  Mave tried to protect herself from the bitter cold as she climbed. She tried to keep a schedule to count the days she walked and climbed. She tried to make progress.

  And it all fell apart.

  She knew she got to eight before they began to blur together. She knew the sun still rose and set, but the storm was so thick, she had no way of really understanding when. She collapsed and fell asleep on day eleven. When she woke up, she had no concept of how much time had passed. She was only grateful to still be alive.

  One of Mave’s major problems was how long it was taking. She had no idea why it was taking her days, maybe even weeks, to get up the mountain. It was never-ending with no light at the end of the tunnel. She only continued on the best path she could find, heading upwards. Time was slipping away from her, but she kept moving as much as she could.

  She found a break in the storm and took her chance to jog. It helped warm her body, increasing her heart rate just enough to pump blood where it needed to be pumped. She didn’t go so long or hard to break a sweat, an easy way to get ice underneath her layers of clothing, but it was enough.

  It wasn’t long after that when she found a cliff she had to scale—a deadly trap. It stretched around the mountain out of sight and was so tall, she couldn’t see the top, though that was thanks to the storm. She only had ten or so feet of visibility at the best of times.

  I could try to find another way but…

  Looking around, there was only snow, both smooth and mounds. Mave dug through the snow of one mound and found what she thought she would. A dead body, frozen and preserved, his face was stuck in a moment of pain for the rest of eternity. If she slipped up, she could find herself tumbling back down the mountain and death. She needed to keep going. She had to stay alive and get to the top, even if she only made a hundred steps sometimes. She couldn’t end up like the other dead Andinna.

  This spot has ended several journeys. Well, it’s not going to end mine.

  “Fuck,” she muttered, her scarf tight around her mouth, not wanting to make this cliffside climb. She hoped that her own breath would warm her face. It didn’t. It added moisture, freezing inside the scarf instead.

  She had to climb this cliffside. Flying was impossible due to the wind, not that she would try if it was only cold. Her wings were vital to trapping her body heat.

  Taking one last deep breath, she went to the rocky wall and grabbed her first handhold. Then the second. She lifted her legs, and her cold body was against her. Her fingers hurt, and she was losing more sensation in her toes by the day. She had to take care of her body. Frostbite wasn’t normally a problem for Andinna, but most never came here and did this in the middle of winter. Having spent most of her life in the warm climate of Elliar, it had never been a worry for her. She was getting a lesson in the dangers of the cold in real time, and the stakes were too high for her to be ignorant.

  She moved slowly, although wanting to go faster. The faster she scaled the cliff, the sooner she was on the next leg of her journey. This was just an obstacle.

  She tried to force herself to pick up the speed. She climbed nearly twenty-five feet when her speed made one of her feet slip, a
nd she felt a rush of adrenaline as her wings opened instinctively to stop her from falling to her potential death. That led to the wind catching them, forcing her to pull them in. In was better, anyway, because she didn’t want to freeze to death.

  She placed her foot again and continued, now more cautious.

  Twenty-five feet became thirty, thirty-five, then forty.

  Mave’s arms shook, and her legs cried out, wanting to give way. Her back agonized, and her wings were useless. She tightened her grip as the winds picked up and tried to pull her off the wall. If she allowed the wind to take her, it would send her off the mountain or into it, didn’t matter which—both would kill her.

  You wonder why I hate you dragons? This. Your people need you, and here I am, fucking doing this to get your attention.

  The trip was beginning to make her bitter and sharpening her rage to a deadly point.

  When I fucking get to you, you’ll fucking learn exactly what happens when you gods piss off your people, Skies damn it.

  Still clinging to the cliffside, hoping she was strong enough to hold, she stayed there for a long time, practically freezing.

  Finally, the wind slowed, and she fought her own body to get moving again.

  At nearly fifty-five feet, she grabbed the top and cried out in relief, pulling herself to safety. She sobbed as she saw how her fingers and palms were covered in frozen blood. She had destroyed them, but it had been so cold, she hadn’t even felt it. She began holding her hands close to her chest, hoping to warm them so they healed properly. Scooting away from the edge, she hit a rock behind her and curled up to try to warm herself. She had a hard time using frozen blood for blood magic. Everything was frozen, and that was the first problem she had to solve.

  It didn’t take her long to realize that sitting and rubbing her hands together wouldn’t work, so she got to her feet and started jogging down the path again, looking out for any places she could fall. As her blood flowed, Mave pulled power out of her spilled blood, red smeared on her hands, then pushed that power into healing her fingers. Before her eyes, the abrasions began to close, and Mave sighed in relief.