Keepers of the Crown

by Lydia Redwine

  Something flickered before them. Not fire. Not a light. A figure. Not a wolf. Not a wraith. A human. Joel squinted his eyes. Fiera did not move to defend them. She mustn't have seen it. Joel felt his head sagging, his lips dipping closed. And because he knew he was on the brink of collapse, Joel was nearly certain that the young woman he saw darting past them was not who he thought she was. The recognition registering in his brain was false. It had to be. “She isn't here. No, she can’t be,” he repeated over and over. “Sh...she died.”

  “Who died?” Joel did not tell Fiera that he had just seen a memory of his childhood wisp past them.

  Fifty-Four

  Cam was on her feet, her back still stinging. But energy had

  returned to her, her breathing regulated. She breathed in. Breathed out. Dread danced in her stomach but only vaguely. Peace spread across her chest. The rain was still pattering on the ground but now in a light drizzle rather than the torrent, it had been just moments ago. She placed one foot in front of the other. “Get to the mountain. And thank Peter with everything I have.” But she didn’t take another step.

  When her spine collided with the stone beneath her and she winced, her jaws locked together to hold back the cries of pain. But all of the air within her had surged out in one swoop, leaving her breathless. She registered that she had been knocked over and that her vision was blurred with growing blackness, but it was too late to block the flashing sword which met her thigh. The material sliced as well as her skin, and blood trickled to the stone. She cried out, the sound splitting the air which had grown to a stiffening stillness.

  There were cruel, icy eyes. She had seen such eyes before. They were blue and fiercely beautiful. Her hair was silky white, cascading down her back in an intricate braid. A sword was gripped in one hand which she handled with great ease while her other was flattened, palm up so ice could flow from her veins. So that is what she had become. A human-Shadow Bearer hybrid who could control ice. And that was why Cam had fallen. The stone was slick and cold beneath her.

  “Glista,” she rasped, her voice edged. The girl did not smirk as she had done before. She was all mounting fury. A warrior. Glista was a warrior. Gone was the girl flouncing in dresses and chasing boys and telling sad stories that meant nothing. The warrior was the one who she had seen upon the rubble only moments before, bounding and slashing like one who had been trained for years and was one of the legion’s best soldiers. The sword came bearing down on Cam again and this time, Glista’s hair moved enough so that Cam could glimpse the black ink curling on her neck.

  Cam had a split second to raise her dagger, blocking the sword enough to save her another second. But only another second. With a sickeningshriek ofmetal on metal,Glista’s sword slid enough for Cam to roll and...

  Swing her feet ou t under Glista’s legs. The white-haired woman tumbled, her bones crashing against the ice in a tremendous thud. Cam was on her feet, panting heavily, dagger gripped in hand. But she would not pause. She winced, her booted foot extended. Glista was bracing her hands against the ice just as Cam’s boot collided with her face. She kicked again. Cam’s heart was slamming against her chest. She was beginning to smile at the sound of Glista’s groan but…

  Pain surged through her head. Her eyes closed as she smacked against the ice. A hand was still clutched at her ankle. She raised her head, eyes blazing. Glista was up and crouched over her, two swords in her hands. Glista’s mouth opened, and Cam found she bore fangs like those of her wolves. She hissed, eyes flaring. Cam groaned. The pain in her head...it was throbbing and...

  Glista bore a smirk, “Look who's down now? And no one to save you? What a shame…”

  Cam cried out, fury mounting in her chest. She slashed out, dagger in her fist. The scream that followed was as long as it took for Cam to be back on her feet. Glista stumbled, blood dribbling from her knee where Cam had slashed. Glista’s smaller, second blade was out and flashing. Cam spun dagger in hand and struck. But Glista’s sword flew up, clashingwith Cam’s own blade. She bore down on her blade for a moment, her face flaring in a sneer.

  Cam flew her fist into the woman’s face. Glista cried out, the sound ripping Cam open. And the next thing Cam knew, a warm weight was bearing into her front and her back was…

  Crashing into the hard cold. The ice again. She uttered a groan, her head swimming. Darkness ebbed in her vision. Glista was upon her, nails reaching. Cam screamed and thrashed under her opponent's weight. Glista’s nails dug into her flesh, into her face. Drove down her skin to pulse points at her throat. And then…

  Glista had dropped both long, lethal blades. Cam’s breath was suddenly cut off, and Glista’s blood-drenched hands were pressing around her neck. Warm and hard and pressing. With gritted teeth, Glista gripped with more pressure, pressing Cam’s throat in. “Feel what it means to fail, Lady Camaria,” she slurred. “Feel…” she panted, “Pain.” Cam thrashed, felt her head filling with blood, her eyes expanding. Her chest burning without the air it so desperately desired.

  And then Glista’s face changed as if all the air had swooshed out of her. She whimpered, her bones becoming like water, and she sagged to the side. Cam had heard the sound on metal on the girl’s skull. When her gaze drifted to the young woman, she saw that she was lying, stomach down upon the thin sheet of ice she had made. Her breath was still visible in the freezing air.

  A stronghold gripped Cam’s arm and pulled her up. “I’ve fought before,” a voicesaid. Cam whirled. Founda wry smile and glittering eyes. Amelia.

  Cam stood to catch her breath as her aunt cleansed her sword on the sheets of snow. And then, it was just them on top of the mound of snow-cloaked rock. Both panted for breath. Amelia rigid, muscles taut. Cam gaped. “What the hell are you doing here?” she wanted to ask, but she was still catching her breath and couldn't speak.

  But Amelia knew the question. She should not be here. “Someone had to greet our allies.”

  “TheShadow...Bearers...air…”Cam pantedout. Shebent, hands braced on her knees as she gathered the stinging, cold air into her chest. Amelia nodded. It had been Peter’s plan, but Amelia hadbeen brought into it. Right? “How...howlongdid you know?” Cam questioned as she finally straightened.

  Amelia’s eyes turned solemn. “The day after Peter met with them. He came to me nearly broken, Cam, and asked for help. And so I offered it to him even while I wanted to strangle him.”

  “He-he was right,” Cam breathed. A smile ofhysteria and relief began to spread her lips apart. “He was right. They came.”

  Amelia’s own lips were turning upward in her own small smile. Cam was just beginning to laugh, the sound merry before it was cut off. Sliced with an invisible sword.

  Amelia’s face was contorting, and the sound of breaking bones echoed in Cam’s eardrums. Amelia’s eyes were wide, her face growing pale as her hand gripped her stomach where the tip of a sword now appeared. She sank to her knees, and a stranger was bounding away, fleeing for its life, having given the fatal blow.

  Cam’s screams ripped from her chest. She was moving too quickly. She was slipping on the ice. She was crashing to the cold, her knees clanging against the hard substance, Amelia sinking in her arms. She was drowning in sweat, salt, and her own despair as Amelia’s face became tinged with white and blood pooled profusely from the open wound. The blade brushed Cam’s arm, slitting the fabric of her sleeve. The tears stung her cheeks as her hand moved to brush the hair from Amelia’s face.

  “Don’t do this, Elyon! Don’t take her from me too!” Cam screamed into the air, choking over her own tears. A hand was at her cheek. Cam looked down.

  Amelia smiled softly. “I am going home, Cam. I will see my sister.” Amelia choked on her own blood which gurgled from her mouth, spurting over her throat. “Caelae awaits me…” she rasped. Amelia looked up, thelight rain fallingin hereyes. “I can see it...its golden and...there’s music…”

  Cam grasped at Amelia’s arms as her good arm went to support her back. Amelia was
limp in her arms, barely breathing. “I love you,” Cam cried, her voice nearly inaudible. “I love you, Mia.”

  The woman’s lips turned upward in a small smile. “Ilove you too. You know that.”

  Cam’s tears weresalty against her lips. Shespoke, a smile lifting her lips. “I read in my mother’s diary everything she ever thought and felt about you.” Cam choked as Amelia’s lips spread into a thin smile. “Howshelovedyouas much as onesister could ever love another.” She began to laugh, the sound breaking and shaky.

  “And then there was this one part where she wrote about going back to Medulla to tell Silva and Kazbek and Grandfather about me after I was born. And that was when she met Fiera and Terra for the first time.” Cam squeezed her eyes, a sob escaping her lips with a shaky laugh following.

  Amelia clenched at Cam’s wrist, her smile not yet faded.

  “An-and she chased a ghost with Fiera. She talked about how Fiera had the same flame within her that she had…”

  Amelia was speaking, her voice low and faint. “I know, Cam.” She smiled. “I know that she loved me. And I have loved her, even after shewas gone. Becauseyousee, sheisn’t gone, and I am goinghometo hernow.” Camstifledanother sob, butit only made her choke. She nodded, her eyes glistening. Yes, she knew.

  Amelia’s eyelids slipped over her gaze, and she was gone. A vanished soul. Only a nearly bloodless corpse held in denial at Cam’s chest. Cam could not decipher what sounds were pouring from her lips as her tears mixed with the blood sticking to her knees.

  She couldn’t breathe. Her chest was clogged. Her throat too. Her hands were shaking, numb and stiff. Her eyes burned and her face stung. Blood filled her mouth, mixed with the taste of salt. What was it Cole had said? Grief never left. It made its home in her mind and heart only to leave when her soul returned to Caelae and she was reunited with those whom she lost.

  Cam would not leave Amelia to lay in her own blood with lifeless, ash skin and a tangled nest of dark curls. Tears blurred her eyes, and yet she made the effort to draw the blade from her aunt’s back and cast it to the side. She folded Amelia’s gentle yet firm hands over the wound and spread her hair beneath her. “May your soul rest in Caelae,” she whispered, only to choke on a sob.

  “Peter and Cole,” were her next thought. “Did they go to greet the Shadow Bearers too?” Cam scrambled to her feet and stumbled as she attempted to vault over the boulder and snatch the nearest fallen weapon. Her numb, stiff fingers found the freezing metal of a long spear which protruded from a figure’s skull. She yanked it out, not daring to look at who that victim might be. Even if it be that man who slew her aunt, she would not look.

  With the spear tipped in now brown blood, she bounded over the rocks and snow to the valley below where sounds of shouting soldiers echoed. When she peered over the edge, she did not see masses of persons fighting, but a city vacant of its own people and crawling with barbarian invaders. The Shadow Bearers were not commenced in battle but darting to and fro about the buildings. “No one to be found!” was the cheer that rose up. They were soon joined by a thunderous cheer. The sounds of death’s glory.

  And yet the sight in Cam’s distant vision gleamed with hope. Allies had come to them. They had kept their word. “Peter was right.” Cam’s attention was jerked back to the scene at hand below her when another cry rang through the frozen air. She crouched beside a boulder so that she could watch without being easily noticeable. “To the Prince of our Infernal Cities!” was the menacing cry. A creature cloaked in a black robe lifted its sword above the soldiers.

  The creature at hand then turned, pointing his sword at a lone figure approaching. “Lord Leviathan!” he chanted. The voice echoed through the mountains. Leviathan’s hand flashed from beneath his cloak, held to silence those chanting his name.

  Warm air gushed from Cam’s lungs, and her pounding heart froze along with every vein of blood within her as Leviathan rose to the stone platform. “We must search for General Glista and then depart to the castle to end this battle!” This declaration was met with further roars of approval.

  “General?” Cam muttered, attempting to grasp the meaning. So Glista had been far more important to her master’s endeavors than she had ever imagined. The next instant, Cam came to realize that if Glista was to be found, those searching would pass her current position. She thought of Amelia as well. She did not dare to imagine what they would do to her body.

  She turned, seeing Glista’s body still limp on theice. “Kill her. Kill her…” But Heiron. His tears, his shaking grasp. What he had begged of her before she had left the castle. “I promised.” They were coming now. All of the Shadow Bearers searching. And where was Riah? “I have to leave.” And yet, Cam still wavered. “No.”

  Cam swallowed, something sickening settling in her stomach. She rose to her feet once more and darted with leaden steps away from the scene. Her goal: to make it to where the Spirit Followers were taking refuge; to find safety. But she was empty as she ran, leaving Amelia behind.

  As if to outrun the pace of her thundering heart and pulsing veins, Cam bounded on aching legs over barriers of stone. She rolled, stumbled, collided with boulders. She continued the movement, making headway towards the forest. It would be miles...miles through the cold. And everything was so white, that she could be easily spotted. And if they did see her, would she then give away the location of the refugees?

  As Cam’s feet tread over the snow-packed earth, the lives of those lost flashed before her eyes in a variation of colors and tones. She saw the despair and happiness. She saw Elyon in their lives. She saw the spirit in their souls.

  And she remembered her mother’s words.

  She had read them a thousand times. Each time she went to reach for a bottle, a glass, anything to numb the pain, she read those words instead. “I have a daughter. She is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. Her name is Camaria, light from the darkness. And I pray one thing for her: that one day, she may choose Elyon as He has chosen her.”

  Cam halted in her own tracks. She was frozen, her eyes wandering the plain before her. Death hung in the air. Death felt the warmth in the souls scattered about broken Nazeria as he cradled them in his arms to carry them to their eternal state. Cam sensed the warmth because there was something lingering here.

  Something that…

  Makes me cower.

  Yes, me. Cower. I can fear things too.

  You forgot I was telling this story, didn’t you? Because the Before, Now, and After is nothing to you. We seem time differently, you see.

  I shifted my wings.

  I watched Camaria. But she did not see me. She could feel me there, but she could feel it more. The light.

  She carried it. It surrounded her. It filled her with peace, driving out the pain and grief. She hung onto it for fear of losing herself as well. It had been there throughout the battle, spurring it on as it did to all ofmy enemy’s warriors. Cam knewthat battle left scars. She knew that battle made innocent people victims. And yet the shock was still an ocean, washing over her in persistent waves.

  I could see the light speaking to her. I could see her listening, as it led her to the mountain and whispered that one day it would allow her to see her fallen comrades once again.

  Now, you might be asking, “Why do you bring yourself into this story now?” And the answer is: you are about to meet me in my full, physical form. But for you to begin to know me, you must know what it is I fear.

  I could give a name. I could offer you my purpose and abilities. But I am too complex and fragile for your pathetic human mind to comprehend. But you are strange to me. You comprehend something I cannot grasp. Light.

  The light is always there. It was present when Riah rejected it and marched across the field to meet with his chosen master. It was there as it whispered the words Camaria’s father had sang to her as a child. Even though the words reminded her of Peter, I could see the strength pulsing in her soul. She was still a flame. Though flickering beneath
the wind, she held fast to the light I could not see.

  I watched Camaria, and the words I have always said to every human before, I said then. And maybe she heard me. Maybe she did not.

  Human,

  I will lose the war over your souls. I already have. Elyon’s promises are nothing to be trifled with. So why might I bother attempting a win?

  Elyon gives you a gift when you are born. That gift is the ability to choose. A gift I myself was given. I made a choice, just as you will. This choice lies between Him and yourself. My desire is to have you choose yourself, and quite frankly steal you from Elyon and have you cut and pierced for eternity. Perhaps by sweeping you from Elyon’s grasp, I will have won something. I remain frank at this moment, disclosing all schemes to you, but you will forget. Your memory of these words will fade, and I will continue to pluck at your fleshly desires so that I may ultimately destroy you.

  Dear human,

  I may not defeat your maker, but I can certainly defeat you.

  Yours truly,

  Lucius

  Despitethe frigid air biting at Riah’s skin even beneath his

  armor, he felt a cold shudder, unlike anything he had felt before, ricochet through him. He turned, knowing exactly what it meant. Leviathan stood behind them, the army of Shedim awaiting the final fall of the wall. Riah knew that Leviathan had seen Ilea.

  “I createdthatpower,” his expression seemed to say. The Shadow Bearer’s eye fell on Riah, and he jerked his head. The young man turned and bounded to where Leviathan stood. Even with all the commotion behind him of the Shadow Bearers searching for Glista, Riah felt as though silence had stolen the battlefield when the Shedim had arrived. He heard nothing but their slow, even breaths.

  Leviathan’s voice seemed tremendously loud when he spoke even when it was helda normal tone. “You will go to Owen at the shoreline and wait there with him.” He motioned towards the gray, still mass that reached even farther beyond the Shedim which numbered in the thousands. The wraiths. They had been here the entire time.