by Ben Hale
The dead were scattered across the ground, and healers rushed to care for the wounded. Other soldiers knelt at the sides of friends, and Fire spotted a father weeping over his son. He grimaced, and wished they’d been successful in their task. If they’d destroyed the Dark Gate for good, the battle would not have occurred.
“You.”
The word came from King Justin, who advanced across the battlefield like a charging warhorse, his nostrils flaring. He stabbed a finger at Rynda, Fire, and Water, his guards scrambling to keep up.
“Where were you?”
Rynda caught the hilt of her sword, bringing the man to a halt. “I don’t answer to you,” she said.
“My mother destroyed the Dark Gate,” Melora said. “For now, at least.”
“I don’t speak to you, traitor,” he barked. “Where’s Erisay?”
Queen Rynda reverently placed the body of Erisay on the ground, and those present sucked in their breath. In the last few weeks Erisay had become a beacon of hope to the alliance, and her sudden loss would hit all races hard.
“She died to destroy the Gate,” Melora said. She straightened. “She died to stop Draeken.”
“Then she died in vain,” Justin growled, and then turned to the group. “Have you gone mad? We barely survived their assault, while you were off trying to play hero.”
“We saved this entire army.” Fire folded his arms. “If we had not done what we did, the fiends would still be pouring from the Gate, and the alliance would be trod under their feet.”
“No one asked you to intervene,” he growled. “You and your fragments are the cause of all of this.”
“We’re stopping it,” Water said with uncharacteristic heat.
King Justin took a step towards him. “You’re the source of this war. You merely have to look at the dragonrider to see the truth.”
The mighty dragon swooped to the ground and alighted on the opposite side of the river, his enormous wings sending gusts across the river and into their group. Draeken’s expression had shifted from fury to cold calculation.
“I’m afraid the king is correct,” he called. “The fragments were my host, and because of them, I exist.”
“Elenyr should have killed you,” Justin spat on the ground.
“Why?” Water demanded. “Because we existed? She taught us how to use our magic to protect the kingdoms. To protect your kingdom.”
“You’re destroying my kingdom,” Justin snarled.
“Come now,” Draeken said. “Your bickering is tedious. Perhaps you have forgotten that I am your foe. Do you require a reminder?” The dragon’s jaw’s opened and fire kindled in his throat.
“We destroyed your vaunted army,” King Justin called. “You are nothing to us.”
Draeken chuckled and patted the dragon’s neck. “I’m afraid my former brothers are correct, King Justin. My servant will rebuild the Dark Gate, and when it is opened this time, I’ll be prepared to control my army. We’ll sweep across this land and destroy every city and village, until there is nothing left but broken streets and bones.”
“Why?” Fire asked. “Why do this?”
“Because Serak gave me power,” Draeken said, “and power is meant to be used.”
Serak’s dragon dropped from the clouds and landed next to Draeken’s own mount. Serak tried to speak to Draeken, his features surprisingly full of doubt. Fire exchanged a look with Water, who shook his head in confusion.
“Serak says the dark army was never supposed to attack us,” he murmured. “He says it was merely supposed to show the people their strength so they would relinquish their crowns to Draeken.”
Draeken jerked his hand in dismissal, his features clouding with anger. “The army is mine, Serak, and I will use it as I see fit.”
Serak’s eyes flicked to Water and Fire, his features clouded, uncertain. Draeken straightened as if he could salvage the situation, and swept a hand to the battlefield, and Fire noticed that surviving soldiers had gathered and closed ranks, as if preparing for an attack.
“Serak brought you here so you could witness my might,” he called, raising his voice so the soldiers could hear. “And you have witnessed but a fraction of the blood that will be spilt. When the Dark Gate opens again, we will flood these lands until any that oppose me are destroyed. Only those who swear allegiance to me will retain their lives.”
“You seek to rule us all?” King Justin sneered.
“I do not seek,” Draeken said, a scowl forming on his face. “I desire, and I obtain.”
“You will never possess my kingdom,” King Justin growled. “I am not afraid of you, your dragon slaves, or your supposed army. I think we destroyed everything you had, and you merely want us to cower in—”
Fire burst from Gorewrathian’s maw and streaked across the river. The flames engulfed King Justin and the guards. Nearby soldiers leapt away. Fire stepped into the blast and sought to deflect it, but his magic was subdued, and he could only deflect a portion upward.
Water leapt to the river and brought his hands into a rising clap. The water rose upward at his command, extinguishing the flames in a wall of water. Steam burst from the contact, billowing upward until the dragon cut off its assault.
“Be my subjects,” Draeken said coldly. “Or join your king.”
The dragon launched into the sky. Serak stared at the burning corpse of King Justin before he too departed. Fire and the others gathered around the remains. Fire shook his head, confused and uncertain. They’d delayed defeat, but victory seemed even more daunting.
Chapter 22: Retreat
Without a human king, and their enemy certainly protecting against another attempt to destroy the Dark Gate, the alliance was forced to withdraw. Led by the trudging troops of Griffin, Talinor, and Erathan, the entire force retreated west. Dead were carried in wagons, while the wounded were also in wagons, the healers fighting to save their lives.
Fire conjured a horse of flames and rode it beside Water, his gaze fixed ahead, to where Rynda argued with the remaining monarchs. Many of the soldiers cast their eyes at their feet, and Fire wondered how they had so utterly failed.
For six days they worked their way through the middle cities on their way to Griffin, pausing each night to cook a meal and rest. Many cast their eyes into the dark night, and Fire read the fear in their eyes. How soon would the Dark Gate be opened anew? Were fiends even now spreading into the forest? Would they attack tonight?
Almost a week since the battle of Xshaltheria, the army reached Terros. Word had reached the city of their impending arrival, and many families lined the road, searching for their loved ones in the line of infantry and cavalry.
Fire and Water separated themselves from the march and ascended a small hill to watch the alliance return to their camps. Fire frowned as he surveyed the trudging soldiers, wondering what they were supposed to do now. Melora, Dothlore, and Rynda also joined them.
“We need a new plan against Serak and Draeken,” Melora said.
Fire spared her a look. He’d been doubtful of the woman’s loyalty. She’d been a member of the Order of Ancients, betrayed her people and her mother, even tried to become one of Draeken’s generals, but her mother’s sacrifice had changed her. She’d taken the lead of her people, since her older sister was absent, and done so with humility and conviction. Many had spoken in doubt, even to her face, but she had withstood their accusations, and Fire realized her dark ambitions had died on the summit of Xshaltheria. Some had called for her to be in shackles, but the haunted look in her eye was more pain than any imprisonment.
“We’re scattered and broken,” Rynda said. “And although I hated King Justin, he held the human kingdoms together. It’s only a matter of days before this alliance crumbles into its former factions.”
Fire grunted in agreement. “King Numen joined Serak and was killed, King Justin is also dead, and King Porlin has always been an ally of the enemy. Are there any other kings allied with the enemy?”
Water
gave a sour chuckle. “I don’t believe so, but we never know.”
Fire looked back at the army trudging over the hill, wondering what they could have done differently. The humans soldiers looked to their feet, their armor dusty and stained, their expressions fallen. They’d thought the battle easily won, a campaign against a criminal that had kidnapped their king. They’d been victorious, but only partially, and all understood the truth. If the Dark Gate was opened a second time, the next battle would be their last.
“I still say we should have attempted to destroy the Gate for good,” Rynda sniffed in irritation. “We would not have failed a second time.”
“We would have died,” Lira said flatly.
“Better dead and the Gate destroyed, than alive and awaiting the fiend arrival,” she retorted.
“We must press forward,” Water said. “There must be a way to stop them.”
Fire admired his brother’s optimism, and didn’t have the heart to disagree. Fire would have been the first to fight, and Water glanced his way for support, but Fire gave a small shake of his head. Not this time. Draeken and Serak, with their dragons and Gate, were just too strong. And perhaps it was time to think about surrender.
He looked ahead, to the city of Terros, a shining city of white stone walls and richly dressed people. Griffin’s capitol had always looked formidable with its great walls and the abundant towers in the out fields. The army had built a wall around Outer Terros, making it even stronger, but Fire wondered how many days it would last against the fiend horde. A day? An hour?
“What will the human kingdoms do now?” Lira asked.
“Probably fight each other,” Rynda said.
“Don’t say that.” Water cast a look at the line of soldiers, but the small group were ahead of the army, and none of the soldiers had overheard. “They are disheartened enough.”
“It’s true,” Rynda said. “Some duke or noble will see this as an opportunity to seize the throne, and the alliance will break apart as quickly as it started. It was a fool’s hope anyway.”
“But it was hope,” Melora said softly.
Fire’s gaze swept across the trees on either side of the road. Spring had blossomed, and leaves grew on limbs. Flowers appeared in shrubs and other underbrush, and birds sang in the cool breeze. Scattered patches of snow lingered, but they were melting, the winter giving way to warmth.
Would the forest be destroyed by the fiends? Devoured by legions of dark creatures until only earth and ash remained? Fire disliked the image, and his thoughts turned to his brothers. What would Draeken do with the fragments if the kingdoms surrendered?
The army reached the camps of Outer Terros, where they had departed just weeks prior with the hopes of a quick campaign and victory. The despondent troops threaded their way back to their camps, their ranks noticeably thinner. The various armies kept a distance from each other, and Fire guessed that was just out of uncertainty. The three human armies were soldiers without a king, and would their swords now turn on each other?
“Who is that?” Water asked, squinting to the trio of horses riding out from the city.
Lira blinked and light flickered in her eyes. “That’s Queen Alosia, and it looks like princesses Annah and Nelia?”
“Numen’s daughter?” Fire frowned.
“And King Justin’s daughter,” Water said.
Fire exchanged a look with his brother, who seemed equally as surprised. Queen Alosia had been selected to ride back to Terros ahead of the army to give the surviving daughters the news. It was a token effort, as both daughters had been considered too young to assume the throne for either Erathan or Griffin. But as the trio galloped through the camps of human soldiers, they sparked a buzz that swept the allied forces. Soldiers stopped in their duties, craning for a look at the two women racing through the camp.
Their heads held high, the women rode in front of Queen Alosia, instead of behind. Their regal dresses and side saddles had been replaced with fitted white armor and soldier’s mounts. Twin crowns graced their heads.
The news swept the army, and soldiers from every kingdom stopped in their tracks and turned, crowding closer to the apparent destination of the trio, the hill where Rynda, Melora, the fragments, and Lira had halted.
As they drew closer, the murmur became a shout, with soldiers from throughout the kingdoms calling the names of the two princesses. They looked neither right nor left, their gaze fixed on Rynda and the group arrayed around the rock troll queen. Their hair was tied back and hung down their armor, one blonde, one brunette, one from Griffin, one from Erathan. Then Fire noticed what hung about the neck of the daughter of King Numen.
The golden pendent of the Steward of Talinor.
“Is that what I think it is?” Dothlore asked.
“I think it is,” Water replied. “Perhaps Jeric gave it to her?”
The trio arrived and the two women reined the horses to a halt. Alosia did the same, but remained behind the two girls, the position obviously intentional. The smile on her features was knowing as she swept a hand to the princesses.
“I give you Queen Annah, of Griffin, and acting Steward of Talinor, Queen Nelia, of Erathan.”
“Queens?” Rynda folded her arms. “Aren’t you a bit young for the thrones?”
“As blunt as ever,” Queen Annah said with a faint smile.
It was the obvious question. Annah looked to be in her late teens, while Nelia looked to be slightly older. Despite their youth, both conveyed an aura of strength that brought a smile to Fire’s lips.
“You’ve been busy the last few days,” Fire said to Alosia.
Water shot him an annoyed look. “Our condolences for King Justin.”
“Grief will have its place,” Annah said, “after the war. For now, we seek to retain the alliance formed by King Justin, and the support of the neighboring kings.”
It was a pivotal moment, and Fire held his breath. If Rynda or Dothlore refused, the human kingdoms would look fragile and broken, and the returning army—most of which were soldiers trained by dukes and other nobles—would fracture to their old allegiances. In riding out so quickly, the newly minted queens sought to consolidate their power before the army could divide. A bold move.
At the same time, the two women were young and inexperienced in nearly every facet of conflict. In the coming weeks, the people needed strength, not youth, and if Rynda or Dothlore saw the two queens as incapable of such strength, they might push for a different leader to take the throne.
“You speak for Talinor?” Melora asked Nelia.
She reached up and touched the amulet. “I do.”
“How did you gain such a rank?” Dothlore asked.
Nelia raised her chin. “It was given to me by King Porlin in my youth, as a promise of marriage to his son. Although King Porlin never had an heir, I have retained the Steward’s Crest.”
Whether true or not, the fact that she possessed the Talinorian crest was significant, and Fire again wondered if Jeric had given his to her. But Rynda continued to regard the two young women with her arms folded.
“Rynda,” Water said, his tone urgent. “You must—”
“I don’t need your help to be queen,” Rynda snapped.
Water fell silent, and Rynda stepped toward the young women. Those nearest sucked in their breath as the towering rock troll advanced on the two young queens. To their credit, they stood their ground, but their horses fidgeted, and Fire noticed Annah had sweat trickling down her forehead. Nelia swallowed in fear and her hand tightened on the pommel of her saddle.
Rynda came to a halt close enough to strike, and then spoke in an undertone. Her words were not audible to Fire from where he stood, and he looked to Lira, but the woman just shook her head.
“If she wanted you to hear her words, she would have spoken louder.”
“You heard them,” he accused.
Lira smiled faintly. “Just because I can enhance my hearing doesn’t mean I have to share what I hear.”
> Rynda stepped back, and then offered her metal hand to Queen Annah. The woman reached out and accepted the offering, her tiny hand resting in the metal grip of the rock troll. Rynda then offered her hand to the second queen. Nelia nodded in gratitude, and if Fire was not mistaken, a measure of relief.
Annah turned and looked to Melora, who gave a solemn nod. “Not that the opinion of a dark elf matters much to the surface races, but I too will support your appointment.”
“You have our gratitude,” Annah said.
Nelia nodded to Annah and then touched the Steward’s pendant. Orange light sparked from the amulet and arced to Annah and Nelia, swirling about their throats and mouths, sinking into their flesh. Annah thanked her with a nod of gratitude and turned her horse to face the forces that had gathered. When she spoke, her voice stretched across the field and extended even into the walls of Terros, not a voice of thunder, but a rolling echo that reached every ear.
“People of Terros and Griffin,” she called. “I am Queen Annah, appointed by the council of Dukes at the urging of Queen Alosia. I speak to you from the edge of the alliance camp, where Queen Rynda and Erisay have just supported my right to rule.”
“And I am Queen Nelia of Erathan,” her companion called, her voice equally amplified. “I too, have had my ascension ratified, and speak with Queen Annah in full accord. I also carry the amulet of a Talinorian Steward, granting me all the rights and privileges of the Talinorian throne.”
Annah smiled to her sister queen and then stepped forward. “At this time of conflict, we lead all three human kingdoms, but against foes like Draeken and Serak, the boundaries of our kingdoms must be set aside.”
The words drew people out of the city. Men and women lined the battlements and poured from the gates. Soldiers of every race stood in silence, watching as the two queens spoke from the hilltop outside of Outer Terros.
