Lastborn of Forsaken Roses

by Thomas Green

  Luna pried the laces open. On top was a crumpled note, beneath which lay a giant pile of coins. The letter read, ‘To my sweetest daughter, I send this from all my heart. James.’

  Tears shot into Luna’s eyes. She reached into the coins to enjoy them, freezing as she saw them up close. They were made of corroded copper, meaning the pouch itself was worth more than the coins inside.

  Luna looked around, seeking for someone to murder or at least something precious to destroy in a fit of rage. She sprung to her feet, but a burst of pain sent her falling onto the bar in a sharp reminder of being in backlash. With no exciting prospects in sight, she had one more drink and limped back to her cell.

  11

  Salazar

  Salazar sat within his team’s cell, a barren room of stone with no windows and bars for doors. Since his team bought a table and a set of chairs in the market and set it in the middle of the room, they now sat by its sides, eating breakfast. The smell of food did little to alleviate the ever-present stench of sweat and foulness, but Salazar had gotten used to it. The thought of the furniture he arranged for his team disappearing annoyed him, but he found no trace to pursue.

  Yvonne weaved around him with a sad expression on her face. “Are you sure you want nothing from what I’ve made? The bread is still warm, and the ham is fresh.”

  Salazar took another bite from the lemon he held within his hand. “Thank you, Yvonne, but I need this right now.”

  “But why? I had never seen you eat lemons. Plus, this bacon is so delicious Mark already had three servings!”

  Since Salazar’s face was too twisted by the sourness for him to answer, Katherine spoke in his stead. “He needs to put on an angry expression for the meeting.”

  Mark raised an eyebrow, grunting.

  Katherine turned to him. “The tournament organization committee has an emergency meeting due to the unfortunate departure of the former chairman, Mr. Palcher.”

  “Wait... so that corpse on the ground yesterday was the chairman of this whole tournament?” Mark asked. “With no judgment from my side, if your highness is behind the incident, it would be the best for us to know.”

  Salazar swallowed. “As surprising as it may sound, I am not, though I do not mind becoming the new chairman.”

  Katherine sighed.

  “But… why the lemons and not my cooking?” Yvonne asked, sounding hurt.

  Salazar threw her a smile. “Because your cooking is delicious and I need to appear angry and vengeful.”

  Yvonne blushed. “Can’t you fake the face? You politicians should be good at that.”

  “We are, and this is how we do it. Cold bath in the morning and unpeeled lemons are the correct recipe for a sour expression for most of the day.” Salazar bit into the lemon’s peel, forcing his stomach to stay calm.

  Yvonne gave up and left him to his lemons.

  They ate the breakfast and Salazar headed out for the meeting with Katherine by his side. The corridors of the arena complex weaved like a web of stone. The circular design of the building made it easy to get lost in its bowels.

  Katherine was the first to break the silence. “The morning seems to have been a success, for you look as if you would want to tear down the heavens and throw them at someone.”

  He sneered. “I hate lemons.”

  “What else happened yesterday you had to go through this to erase the stupid happy grin you had in the morning?”

  “You mean aside from Palcher freeing up the chairmanship for me?”

  “That and your after-midnight disappearance.”

  Salazar frowned. “Be careful how deep you dig into my matters, captain, else you may find yourself on dangerous grounds.”

  Katherine shook her head. “Look, I don’t care if you have a mistress, secret boyfriend or murder people for fun when you disappear. I am merely trying to warn you that if I noticed your disappearance, others did.”

  She was far too good at having an excuse for everything. Salazar forced his expression into neutrality. “Noted.”

  As they advanced through the complex, a hooded man leaning against the wall awaited them.

  Katherine drew her sword, but Salazar motioned her to stand down.

  He pierced the stranger with his gaze. “It appears as though Palai has something more to say.”

  A smile flashed beneath the man’s hood. “Palai is unhappy with the current order of tournament sides, so he suggests you turn it into Grimdawn, Cinderwell, Xona, Redwall, and Illysaeas.”

  “Quite a change from Grimdawn, Redwall, Illysaeas, Cinderwell, Xona.” Salazar threw him a sour smile. “That adds significant distance to traveling between the sites.”

  “Trust me, Salazar, because you don’t want the last two rounds in your territory.”

  “Did you kill Palcher so I could push this through the organizers?”

  “Perhaps.” The man vanished within an instant.

  Katherine granted Salazar a stern stare. “I see you plan to keep putting a significant effort into foiling my plans of getting you through this alive.”

  “Do not worry, Katherine. I will be fine.”

  “They will have assassins waiting for you at every corner once they figure out you are dancing to the Order’s tune.”

  Salazar scoffed. “I can handle those.”

  “Until you use too much aether and get into backlash. Remember the time our ship got attacked by a pirate raid, and you were half-frozen and completely unable to use aether for a week? Your power might be immeasurable, but your body’s ability to utilize it isn’t.”

  “I also remember sinking the entire pirate fleet by myself before I fell into backlash.”

  Katherine sighed. “Because that was a one-time attack. The more they see you use your aether, the better counters will they bring.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “Is this your way of telling me not to use my aether manifestation publicly?”

  She nodded.

  While he hated to admit it, she was right. Salazar stretched his neck. “I will silence your doubts in the first round.”

  Her gaze hardened. “There is no way I allow you to run through a trap-filled maze.”

  “I shall not set foot into it.”

  Katherine took a pause. “Well then, but you will spend the rest of the tournament on the bench if I am not impressed.”

  “I always impress.” Salazar grinned, withdrew a lemon from out of his pocket and bit into the peel to wipe the smile off his face.

  Their path got them to the mansion that held the festival of First Dawn, which coincided with being the main office building of the local leader of the Union, Francis Woonard. Guards swarmed through the place, a bunch of whom led Salazar toward decorated doors. They forced Katherine to wait behind, making Salazar enter alone.

  Beyond lay a circular room with paintings covering the walls and a round table standing in its center. Around it sat the city lords and Slaver Union officials. He was the last man to arrive.

  Salazar did not bother with formalities and strolled straight to his seat at the table’s head. “I hereby commence the emergency meeting. I would like to start with a note of regret for the departure of Mr. Benedict Palcher, for the wisdom and friendship he had shared with us shall be missed. Lest he finds better existence wherever he is now.”

  All the men in the room nodded and held the customary minute of silence.

  Salazar cleared his throat when the time passed. “Now, let us proceed to more immediate matters. We have three major issues to tackle and no time for much consideration. First, we need to protect the integrity of the tournament and prevent any further interference from the Holy Order of Palai. Second, we must secure the safety of the members of this council, so no further assassinations take place and third, we have to prepare for a potential escalation should the Palai Order not let go.”

  “We also have the fourth issue, and that is having a replacement put into the council for Mr. Palcher,” Edward Collward added.

  “T
rue. Nevertheless, a replacement for Mr. Palcher will first require the Union itself to vote his substitute and potentially yours, Mr. Collward.” Salazar kept the steady tone. “After all, the seats on the council are attributed to positions and not individuals.”

  “That follows the rules of this council to the letter,” the lord of Cinderwell pointed out.

  “I agree,” the lord of Grimdawn concurred.

  Salazar’s face remained sour. “Shall we vote on this?”

  “That would be unnecessary. As it has been said, this follows the rules of this council to the letter,” Collward conceded.

  Salazar allowed himself a swift, fake smile. “Onward to the more pressing issue. We need to gather the information of where are the forces of the Palai Order located and how many are committed to this particular operation. The sites of the tournament have been known for over half a year which has been more than enough time for the Order to prepare and hide above our means of detection since that is how they operate most of the time. I suggest we smoke them out by switching the locations for the future rounds of the tournament. For the upcoming vote, I propose a change to the sites to Cinderwell, Xona, Redwall, and Illysaeas while keeping the same schedule.”

  The lord of Cinderwell grabbed the table, so strongly his knuckles turned white. “That would be a major obstacle to our preparations. We would exhaust ourselves by this insanity!”

  Not surprising, since he was the man most affected by the change, as his city would come next. Salazar arched an eyebrow. “My proposition would provide us an opportunity to spot the Palai army moving between the cities. The Order does not have enough manpower to have covered all sites beforehand, so it is likely that they have their main force around Grimdawn and are prepared for Redwall as of this moment. Their movement to Cinderwell would be impossible to miss even for medium quality sentries.”

  Collward measured Salazar with a long glare. “I am surprised you are willing to sacrifice hosting the finals for this.”

  The count dismissed the remark with a wave of his hand. “I have no interest in ending like the previous chairman.”

  John Leker of Xona clapped his hands together as if in prayer. “Such a change would require significant preparations from our side, so we cannot arrange the change at such haste.”

  “Yes, we can.” The voice of Prince Stallington of Illysaeas echoed through the air, stronger and more confident than what seemed possible for the old man. “Albeit seemingly difficult, this would be a purely logistical problem. Tickets are easy to rearrange for different rounds and dates while the tournament contestants shouldn’t care where or when they travel. Moreover, it would only be appropriate for the home city of the strongest team to hold the finals.”

  Salazar bit his tongue to stop himself from smiling. The old prince may have been old, but he was every bit of a man his title suggested. While the Old Kingdom may have long fallen over a hundred and fifty years ago, Stallington was the walking proof of the meaning of what the title of the prince once meant.

  “I do not mind the change, but shall we still profit from the tournament, given the need to use our resources for defense?” the lord of Slupsey asked.

  Salazar grinned, thoroughly amused by his closest ally rushing to his support like a well-trained puppy. “Well, if we do not have the resources for an army large enough to oppose the Palai Order during the tournament, any and all measures we take shall be meaningless. Hence, I have already instructed my court to raise an army at Xona.”

  Shocked silence sealed the room for a good minute. Afterward, all lords soon chipped in on how they shall raise armadas of their own. Even the slavers were drawn into the debate and made plans for their own private armies, turning the meeting into chaos. His proposition was passed without any hassle.

  Salazar listened to the conversation in stoic calmness. Once a city raised an army, every other region needed one. While facing this fact, all else became meaningless. He did not plan to use this card so soon, yet as of this moment, the need not to infringe on his relationship with the Order outweighed the inconvenience of revealing his hand.

  12

  Luna

  The time of their match had come. Luna and Raven went over their plan for one last time. Afterward, they donned the armor Jean Pierre had delivered to their room, a thick but flexible, pitch-black brigandine for her and a snow-white chain mail, an arming sword and a shield for him.

  Raven petted the rat sitting on his shoulder. “Alright, Nibbles, I’m off. I’ll be back soon and try to bring you some cheese.”

  Nibbles ran down his arm to sit on the table.

  Luna shook her head and led the way through the maze of stone. The Rapacious Reavers and Stallington’s chimera filled the match’s preparation room. The chamber itself had numerous weapon racks by its walls, a doorway toward the cleaning room by the side and two large ramps. One led to the arena while the other one was the path to the monster-holding cells. Luna scanned the Reavers with her eyes.

  They were standing by a detailed model of the maze crafted out of wooden sticks and were planning their run. From what she could see between their white-pink uniforms, they even had a little statuette for each member of their team. When nobody was looking at her, she took a calming toxin to keep herself controlled.

  Luna realized the chimera was watching her. Its front heads, one of a lion and two of wolves, were leering at Raven, but the snake head that tipped its tail was following her with hungry eyes. She tried to ignore it.

  Raven walked to the weapon racks by the side and picked up a greatsword to put it over his back. Then he grabbed a chain with a hook at its end and wrapped it over himself. Once done, he placed two javelins next to the sword and took a massive maul. He needed a few re-adjustments before he could move.

  Prince Stallington entered the room, his robes weaving around him while a smile split his face. “I see you are ready.”

  Finubar bowed. “Your Highness.”

  Raven grunted, not saying anything.

  The prince motioned toward the ramp leading to the arena. “Since I am sure you have all studied the rules, especially the part that the match is supposed to be non-lethal, let me say only this. I expect you to win a crushing fashion, one worthy of my name.” He exchanged a smile with Raven, whirled and left.

  Two members of the Rapacious Reavers took the steel rods used to control the chimera to lead it while Raven withdrew a javelin and stabbed the four-headed demon. It growled in pain and anger while all eight of the monster’s eyes turned to him. Raven sunk the javelin into the creature, aiming toward the groin.

  Finubar approached Raven. “What are you doing?”

  Raven did not stop stabbing the chimera. “None of your business.”

  Luna smirked at the scene. The stabs weren’t deep since they weren’t meant to kill. Raven kept stabbing it all the time it took them to walk into the arena. When they were close, he dropped the javelin, picked a pouch from his pocket and threw the contents at the wounds he caused. It shrieked in pain and rattled the chains so strongly they almost broke.

  Luna examined the mixture Raven was now sprinkling over the creature, realizing it looked and smelled like a blend of salt and lemon. She cursed within her mind since it was apparent Raven had to have taken those at the festival, meaning he had this plan prepared from there and all the planning they had done in the past days was merely him selling her the already settled plan.

  They walked up the ramp and entered the arena where a fresh layer of snow covered the sand. Beneath the weak, winter sun, the tribunes that towered above them were packed with people, yet the air was still and calm. The place was nothing like the arena of Illysaeas. The crowd showed no signs of excitement, assuring Luna that non-lethal trap runs weren’t as popular as the organizers would have hoped.

  Luna ate the calming toxin she had prepared and gave the maze in front of them a careful look. The construction was downright massive, standing before them akin to a colossal octopus holding onto variou
s columns. Between the pillars, they could see the other team on the other side. Their opponents were adventurers dressed in loosely matching sets of light armor, a mixture of mails, robes, and boiled leathers, clearly outfitted for a race, not a fight. Luna shifted her legs, annoyed by the cold that seeped into her feet through her boots. She leaned toward Raven. “It won't work! There is no way I will fly across.”

  “You will. We have about eight minutes before Finubar’s people reach the stone at the core which gives two minutes for the first part and six for the second one. Remember the timings and try to fit into them.”

  How? I can't tell the difference between three and five minutes while you plan in seconds! “I am not sure about this.”

  Raven scratched the back of his neck before he nudged her forward. “Get in position. It’s almost time.”

  Right, the announcer finished introducing the teams and their members. Ah well, guess I will trust you on this one.

  The announcer started counting, and Luna walked to stand twenty feet in front of Raven. At the count of six, she dashed toward him and put a foot into his prepared arms. He threw her up in perfect synchronization with her jump. She spun in the air and straightened her back and legs while removing her aether defenses, allowing Raven to affect her with his spell. He pushed his aether into her, making her body and armor many times lighter. She fell, aiming her body straight like an arrow with her feet pointing at Raven.

  He slammed his maul into her heels with all his strength. The pain shot through her as the impact catapulted her upward the second the match started. Luna flew high and fast. She glided over the massive maze, and the entire arena fell silent. The announcers and commentators lost their voice.

  Luna remained focused on keeping herself straight to control the flight, to manage the fall. I am breaking into the descent, and I am at about the middle of the maze. Good!