by Kova, Elise
He thought she was Fiera, just as Lucina had. Vi pursed her lips into a thin smile.
“You’re welcome.” Vi didn’t see the point in correcting him. No one was likely to believe him even if he remembered the details of their encounter come dawn. “Can you tell me what’s happening? Do you remember?”
He gave a nod. The scar tissue of his neck seemed to pull, causing him to wince slightly. “The wall finally fell. The Imperialists blasted through. They’re in the city.”
Vi looked in the direction she’d been heading. The fires burned brighter now, almost like an angry dawn on the horizon. She had read about the fall of Norin, but it wasn’t a breach in the wall that had brought the noble city to its knees after ten long years—it was by an attack on the sea.
The fighting at the wall was a distraction to give the ships carrying the bulk of the Imperial army time to enter the port.
But what should she do with that information? If she did something, could she see Norin fall faster and potentially spare more from this man’s fate?
A hand closed around her watch and Vi briefly thought of summoning Taavin. But if she did, he’d know she’d run into the fray, putting herself in danger. Perhaps putting the future of the entire world in danger with her. Ninety-three times. She’d hurt him enough for one day.
“Thank you for the information.” Vi stepped away, leaving the man to hover, clearly still dazed. She’d done all she could for him. “Head for the northwest corner of the city. Avoid the port and the outer wall at all costs.”
Vi ran upstream through a river of people. Then, all at once, there was no one left for her to push against. She found herself among burning rubble, the crackle of magic blazing through the sky.
Men and women littered the ground around her. Some were burned to husks. Others still oozed crimson into the cracks of the road. Vi stared at the carnage, at those soldiers still fighting in the distance, flames glinting off their plate armor.
She had seen death, up close. But she had never seen war. Standing before it now, Vi felt frozen in place. She wondered if she should feel terrified, if she should weep.
There weren’t any feelings though. It was as if any single emotion was insufficient, and so they all left her. Everything was numb. She was presented with the embodiment of juth calt: the world had been shattered.
Without warning, a tiny jolt of magic broke the stasis Vi was unwittingly trapped in. Her heart began to race. The bodies around her were more than just corpses; they suddenly became men and women, people with lives, daughters and sons. Vi fought against the swelling sickness that threatened to overcome her.
Another crack of magic—one Vi would recognize anywhere.
When she turned, a wall of flame blocked her vision. The fire roared with unnatural power, connecting one blazing building to the next. It was no doubt a dividing line. The break in the wall must be on the other side and someone very, very powerful was trying to contain the flow of soldiers within.
Yet even a heavy curtain of fire couldn’t hide the pull of something greater—a god-like magic. Determined and drawn by an invisible tether, Vi marched forward toward the fire, allowing her own spark to swell within her.
You feel it in your marrow. Taavin’s words echoed inside her.
“Yes,” Vi whispered to no one. He had been speaking about the truth of her situation. But Vi felt something far greater in her bones. Within her was a power that recognized and sought out its own—the power of a goddess.
You will be free of the bonds of time because my magic is in you, Yargen had said.
Raising a hand, Vi used her magic to bore a hole through the flames that barred her path. It was surprisingly easy, given how impressive the fire was. Whatever Firebearer made it was weaker than Vi expected, for she gained control of the inferno as though it had been her own power all along.
A tunnel opened up before her and Vi charged through, quickly releasing her hold on the fire. On the other side, more carnage waited.
The chorus of battle she’d heard echo over the crackle of the blazes throughout the city was now reaching its crescendo. The large wall surrounding the city had been blown in, reducing nearby buildings to rubble. Debris scattered inward, men and women fighting around large chunks of stone. Those with crimson armbands and red plumes seemed to have the upper hand, pushing back the silver-plated soldiers in short capes of Solaris blue and white.
The same jolt of magic pulsed through her, stronger and closer this time. Vi’s eyes were drawn to a far corner, where a woman was locked in the heat of battle with a group of three. She wielded a sword that glowed with a blue haze; power crackled off of it as she alternated between swinging it and casting balls of fire off her free hand.
Vi watched in awe as Fiera Ci’Dan made quick work of three soldiers. She wondered if Fiera had even the slightest idea of how much the weapon was influencing her power.
“Push them back!” Fiera screamed to the soldiers fighting their way up the mound of debris where the wall once stood. “Don’t let them through! Show them the strength of Mhashan.” Fiera began running and Vi picked up her feet as well.
Their paths intersected near the center of the battlefield. Without missing a step, Fiera shifted her weight, bringing the sword across her body in a swing at Vi. Vi reacted instantly, dodging backward. Fiera held the sword out, keeping her at length, and met Vi’s eyes for the first time.
They stared at each other, panting, unmoving. Energy crackled underneath Vi’s skin—something more than her own power or Yargen’s. Vi knew it as the hair-raising sensation of fate playing its hand.
“Your face is… You…” Fiera struggled for words between heavy breaths.
“There’s no time to explain. But I am not your enemy.”
“Who are you?” Fiera said, as she looked Vi up and down, lowering the sword.
“I’m a traveler, and I’ve come a long way to tell you…” Vi trailed off. To tell her what? That she needed the sword? That she was the granddaughter of another Fiera from another world? Vi had been acting on instinct, pulled along by her gut, and now she wasn’t sure if it had landed her in a good spot.
“To tell me what?” Fiera pressed, with an expression that told Vi she’d seen right through her uncertainty. Another explosion rocked the city. Magic sloshed off the blade in her hand and Fiera cursed and turned, frantically scanning the wall. “Guards in the First Legion, go through the opening, find where they’re trying to breach the city a second time!” Men and women pushed farther up the rubble and Fiera started in their direction. Vi gripped her forearm, and Fiera’s eyes darted between the clearly offending touch and Vi’s face. “Unhand me.”
“It’s a distraction,” Vi blurted. “Tiberus Solaris is coming from the sea.”
“What? There’s no—”
“They split their forces, weeks ago, I think.” Vi struggled to remember her history. The fall of Mhashan had seemed like ancient history when she’d studied it with Martis. Now she was searching her brain for every last detail she could recall. “He’s coming from the sea.”
Fiera’s attention volleyed between Vi and the soldiers. She let out a string of curses before settling her gaze on Vi once more.
“Tell me why I should believe you.” The princess lifted her sword. Oddly, it didn’t feel threatening. It felt like a challenge.
“Because I know what fate has designed.” It was the only explanation Vi could think of, and she knew it wasn’t a very good one. Yet somehow, it was enough.
Fiera sheathed her sword, turning to the carnage. “Schnurr!” she shouted. A man who looked far too young to be on the battlefield came rushing over. “See to the troops here. I do not want the Imperials to take one more step into our city.”
“Yes, your highness.” The man gave a salute.
“Honor guard, to me!” Fiera commanded. Three men and two women ran over as Schnurr ran back into the fray. “We’re going to the docks.”
They all saluted. Not one questioned he
r. Not one uttered a word of dissent. These men and women were ready to follow their leader to the ends of the earth or the ends of their lives—whichever came first.
Vi wondered briefly if she’d ever commanded such loyalty from anyone.
“You’re sure?” Fiera turned to her once more. Vi nodded. “Onward, then!” Fiera swept out her arm and cut a tunnel into the flame, much as Vi had.
The princess and soldiers took two steps ahead as Vi stared in awe.
The magic had almost felt like hers… It had almost felt like hers in the same way Vi would know her father’s magic from anywhere. She might be from another version of the world, but something still connected her with the woman who would become the grandmother to a new Vi.
The group plunged through the tunnel of flame. Without stopping, Fiera continued along the street. Their pace was a jog, which felt agonizingly slow to Vi. But she was in a simple tunic and trousers. The rest of them wore an array of plate and scale mail. She used the pace as an excuse to take sidelong looks at the princess.
The woman had a sharp nose and angular eyes set atop cheekbones even stronger than Vi’s own. Her hair had fallen free of whatever tie it had been in and was now knotting down her back. She was real, breathing, alive. But if the events of this world were transpiring along the same time frame as they had in Vi’s world… she wouldn’t be alive for more than a year.
Or would she?
In Vi’s world, Fiera had died in childbirth—no, her father had corrected that. She’d died protecting a crystal sword. Now Vi desperately wished he’d told her all the details. Though perhaps they didn’t matter.
Perhaps nothing from her world mattered now.
Her stomach knotted as they continued down the main street, turning off at the intersection Vi had walked with Jayme months ago. The docks weren’t far when cannon fire rattled the glass of the windows around them. All seven dropped, hands covering their heads as cannonballs ripped through the city.
“What was—” one of the soldiers began.
“The wall was a distraction,” Vi said, standing. “The Emperor is flanking you, coming from the sea.”
“You call the usurper Emperor?” The long-haired woman drew a dagger, placing it at Vi’s throat. “And just how do you know all this?”
“I—” Vi wasn’t prepared to explain, and luckily Fiera didn’t make her.
“I trust her,” Fiera interjected, rising to her feet as well. The woman holding the blade at Vi’s neck didn’t move. “I said I trust her. Put down your weapon.”
“What if she’s a spy? She speaks like an Imperialist. No red-blooded Westerner would call that destroyer of kingdoms ‘Emperor.’ She looks like she could get away with masquerading as you, even. What if they sent her to take us from the wall? What if the ship is the distraction meant to pull you away?”
“If she’s a spy, we kill her at the docks and return.” The other woman with hair cut so short it barely reached her ears rested her hand on her comrade’s shoulder. “Listen to our leader. We only have a few minutes before those cannons are reloaded.”
Ultimately, the woman with the dagger at Vi’s throat did as Fiera commanded, and they were off once more. Vi rubbed her neck as she ran and remembered Taavin’s words—if she died now, it was over.
But no, it was only over if she failed. If she succeeded in this world and stopped Yargen’s power from being turned on itself, then it didn’t matter if a new Vi was born. Because there would be no more destruction and rebirth.
Vi’s mind was silenced as they rounded the corner and caught their first glimpse of the great port of Norin. Fires blazed in the ocean from ships that were sinking beneath its inky waters. Three large warships with massive battering rams had invaded the port, leaving debris in their wake. Each ship bore a white sail emblazoned with a golden sun.
The ships had already dropped anchor; two were using makeshift gangplanks to allow a near-endless stream of soldiers into the city. Half of the Imperial army had been crammed into those bloated hulls, and now they were encroaching on the castle of Norin, on the civilians that surrounded it, and on the troops battling at the wall from behind.
“Mother above,” one of Fiera’s men uttered in shock.
Cannon fire rang out, and they all dropped once more as shrapnel and cannon balls ripped through the paltry collection of Western soldiers and buildings alike on the docks. Vi continued to stare, watching them fall. For the second time since she’d entered this version of the world, she felt as though she was watching everything from outside of her body—a history book come to life in the darkest of ways.
“Traveler.” Vi hadn’t realized they’d ended up side by side until she glanced over and found the princess at her shoulder. “Is Tiberus Solaris on that vessel?” Vi nodded, hoping her grandfather made the same choice in this world as he had in her own. “Then we press onward.” Fiera sprang to her feet. “Quickly now!”
Vi, Fiera’s five Knights, and the woman herself came to a stop at the center of the docks, right before the main vessel that had been unleashing an artillery assault.
Fiera drew her sword and shouted, “Tiberus, face me!”
The world seemed to hold its breath. Even the soldiers that had been marching down the gangplanks of the other two ships paused as Fiera’s voice reverberated off rock and sea. Vi prayed this world was unfolding like her own, that she hadn’t started out by lying to Fiera.
“I know you’re there. Come out and duel me like the honorable man you claim to be. I am the sword arm of the King of Mhashan. You will not conquer us until you have conquered me!”
“You have been heard, princess.” A deep voice filled the air.
Standing at the bow of the ship before them was a man clad in golden armor, trimmed in silver polished so brightly it shone white in the pale moonlight. His hair was the same hue as his armor and his face was clean-shaven, almost roguish—Vi had only ever seen portraits of her grandfather and he looked nothing like the young man standing before them now. She searched his face, seeking out some familial resemblance. But the only thing her father had inherited from Tiberus was the pallor of his skin. Fiera’s features had won out in every other way.
Fiera pointed her sword directly at Tiberus. Raw magic sparked from it, falling to the ground like dying fireworks. “And do you accept my challenge?”
“I will accept your surrender,” the Emperor said haughtily, in a tone Vi recognized from her own father.
“You must earn it first.”
“You’ve lost this war.”
“He’s as arrogant as they say,” the long-haired honor guard muttered.
A sailor ran up to the Emperor, whispering something in his ear. As they exchanged words none of them could hear, Fiera remained poised, waiting. Her arm didn’t so much as quiver despite holding out the long sword.
“You may have your duel, princess. With whatever time is left,” Tiberus said ominously before disappearing from sight. Soon enough a rowboat worked its way from the side of the boat to the docks.
“Your highness—”
“I told you before, this ends tonight.” Fiera glanced over her shoulder at them before turning to the castle.
Vi took a step forward. Something in Fiera’s eyes compelled her. She had an understanding no one else did, save Vi herself.
“You know,” Vi whispered softly. Saying nothing, Fiera gave a small nod.
“As do you?”
It was Vi’s turn to nod. “Fighting the Emperor won’t change anything.”
“I realize.” Fiera shifted her attention to the rowboat that pulled up alongside the docks. “But the longer I can distract him, the more lives I can spare in the city. If I can be the outlet for his rage, act as the embodiment of my family, then he might spare my siblings.”
It was a noble goal. Vi would’ve admired it more if it wasn’t leading toward her grandfather and grandmother dueling. Bringing Fiera here had been a terrible decision.
Taavin had said she was here t
o change fate.
What if she changed it in the wrong way?
Three soldiers quickly disembarked, followed by Tiberus, then two more soldiers. Were it not for Vi, they would’ve been evenly matched. In a way they still were. Vi wasn’t about to fight for or against either side if it came to blows.
“Sheathe your sword and I’ll spare your life.” Tiberus wasn’t very tall, Vi realized. Yet he spoke with authority that towered above them all.
In reply, Fiera hoisted her weapon, pointing it directly toward the Emperor.
Vi inched backward, her heart racing. Had Fiera and Tiberus traded blows in her time? She swiftly ran through her options for diffusing the situation. If one of them was killed now, would she—rather, the new Vi—even be born?
“Let it be death, then.” Tiberus drew his weapon.
“Wai—” Vi never had a chance to finish.
Horns blasted through the city in a low, sad song. She didn’t recognize the melody, but it had everyone else holding their breath. Fiera turned to the castle.
From the tallest tower, a makeshift banner was unfurled. It wasn’t much, but it would surely be seen from anywhere in the city: the white flag of surrender was draped across the castle of Norin.
Like that, Mhashan fell.
“Zerian did it…” Tiberus murmured, turning back to them. “Kneel before your Emperor and you shall know my mercy.”
Fiera’s knuckles went white, but ultimately, she sheathed her sword. Vi watched as the princess fell to one knee.
“Your highness, do not kneel before—”
“We have lost,” Fiera said back to them.
Tiberus turned to Vi next and she hastily dropped to her knee, bowing her head.
“Kneel,” the Emperor demanded to the rest of the soldiers.
One man and the two women did as they were bid. But the other two remained on their feet.
“We will never kneel before Imperial swine.”
“Kneel or die,” Tiberus reiterated. “I am ready to give this city mercy, but do not test me.”
“We are the Knights of Jadar—”
“And your commander orders you to kneel,” Fiera snapped.
