by N M Zoltack
What if his sister was inside?
His dagger out, Rase raced toward the keep. The few guards outside, struggled to grab him, to keep him from entering, yelling and cursing at him that he was throwing his life away, but he did not heed their words, did not care for their advice. He did not share their concern for his own self. While he had been hoping his inability to locate his sister meant that she had fled Atlan entirely, he was not willing to leave until he checked every last place, and that included the castle, especially not that it was under attack once more, this time from human enemies instead of the dragons.
Inside the keep, Rase was greeted by pure madness. Guards, knights, even servants were trying to fight off the invaders. One man had a pot in his hand that he crashed into the back of a Vincanan’s head. Rase thought that a smashing idea, and Rase grabbed a vase from a table before it could be knocked over and promptly smashed it against the head of another Vincanan. The guard fighting that one stared at Rase as the Vincanan slumped to the ground.
“This isn’t the place for your kind,” the guard grunted.
“That’s a fine thank you,” Rase retorted. “I’m not here to fight. I’m looking for—”
“I don’t care who you’re looking for,” the guard snapped. “Get out of here.”
“Where do the maids live?” Rase called, but the guard had already turned to fight another invader.
Undeterred, Rase squeezed between fighters. It wasn’t easy, and he had to avoid blades from both guards and Vincanans. He kept his back to the wall as much as possible so that he could keep an eye all around him and not have to worry about being attacked from behind. His heart beat so very fast that he thought it might burst out of his chest. It actually hurt to breathe, but he wasn’t concerned for himself, only for Leanne.
Whenever he found a guard or a knight not engaged in battle, he begged them for help in locating his sister, but no one would, and why would they? They were fighting for their lives, for their castle, for their queen and Tenoch. One young boy and his lost sister were of no concern to them.
But Leanne was Rase’s entire world, and he was not about to give up on her. Not now, not ever.
66
The One True Queen Rosalynne Rivera
Even though Rosalynne had suspected the Vincanans might strike, she had to balance offensive measures with defensive ones, and she felt caught unawares. Although it was nighttime, well past when she should have been in bed, she had been down in the kitchens. She had worked through dinner, talking with Brid Donocani. The justiciar, the one who presided over the court and any judiciary matters, had been furious that the prisoners had all been released without her being consulted first until Rosalynne reminded her that Rosalynne was the one who had given the order.
“We need the prison guards to help fight. We need every shield. Surely you can understand that,” Rosalynne had said. “Besides, those prisoners were all escorted outside of the castle walls, and the guards were notified to not allow them entry again. The people inside are safe.”
Brid had grunted. “Yes, that’s well enough, I suppose, but the prisoner who escaped first, where is he?”
“He was located by the guards a handful of hours after his escape, and he had also escorted outside the walls.”
Brid had refused to give up. “And the people outside the walls…”
“It is their choice to be outside the walls,” Rosalynne had said. “They are welcome at any time.”
The Vincanans, it seemed, most have ignored the surrounding city of Atlan and merely headed for the castle directly or else the alarms would have sounded. That not one of the people in the surrounding city noticed the marching army, though, that none of her scouts had, that the lookouts hadn’t witnessed their approach…
Rosalynne hurried over to the window and shoved aside the flattened animal hide that covered it. The sky was as black as black could be. No wonder the Vincanans had been nearly invisible during their march.
“What should we do?” one of the three scullery maids in the kitchen despite the late hour cried.
“Grab a pot and hide,” Rosalynne said. Although she oft thought it ridiculous, she carried a dagger upon her person at all times, always concealed by the folds of her skirt. Vivian had insisted, and Rosalynne now held it firmly in front of her, grateful for it. How hard could it be to use it? All she had to do was stick the sharp end into another person, into their soft flesh.
Her stomach churned at the thought. Vivian had asked on more than one occasion if Rosalynne wished to learn how to use a weapon properly, any weapon, and Rosalynne regretted not taking the time for such a task, but she feared she hadn’t the talent for it, and she slept perhaps four hours a night as it was because of everything she wished to accomplish each day. She had so much to oversee, so many meetings, so much, too much… When would she have had the time?
Perhaps if she allowed her heir, her sister, to have done some of the meetings in her stead. If she would have a larger council of persons she could trust, then she might have a bit more free time.
But now, now, every second of her life might be bringing her closer to her death, and she refused to die in the kitchen. She slipped over to the servant stairs and hurried up them, debating with herself where she might go. Perhaps she should leave the castle entirely, out through the kitchen door. Her hunger might save her life.
The thought, however, gave her tremendous pause. She did not like the idea of leaving the guards and the knights to save everyone. There were far too many innocents here, including those three scullery maids who were absolutely terrified.
Truthfully, Rosalynne was terrified, too, but she forced herself back into the kitchen.
The maids peeked out from their terrible hiding spots when she returned, and she nodded to them.
The door to the kitchens burst open, and a Vincanan entered. The moment her gaze fell on Rosalynne, her lips curled back into a vicious smile.
“You’re going to regret that I’m the one who found you,” she taunted.
“Is that so?” Rosalynne lifted her chin and her dagger.
The Vincana woman snorted. “I’m surprised you even have a dagger. You know how to use it?”
“Why don’t you come closer and find out?” Rosalynne asked, her voice oddly calm, the complete antithesis of her inner anguish and growing fright.
The Vincanan feigned an attack to the right. Rosalynne didn’t know what to do and merely thrust out the dagger, almost cutting the woman’s sleeve.
The woman narrowed her eyes. “When they’ve seen what I’ve done, that I killed you, I’ll be made a Valkyrie.”
“Hmm. The dragons’ warriors. You do realize the dragons have killed so many innocents since they returned?”
“No one is innocent,” the woman hissed, “least of all you! You and your father—”
“I’m nothing like my father!” Rosalynne screamed. Fierce anger had her slashing about, waving the dagger wildly, her palm aching, her grip most likely too strong, but it caused the woman to back up some.
And then the woman launched a counter attack, coming at Rosalynne who only managed to avoid being hit by ducking and dashing around the tables in the kitchen to create space between them. The woman had a sword, so, naturally, her reach was much longer than Rosalynne’s.
Despite her fear, Rosalynne moved in such a way that the woman would not see or come near the hidden scullery maids, and she prayed to the Fate of Life that they would not move or make a sound.
Movement by one of the girls distracted Rosalynne, and the slice across her arm wasn’t deep, but the wound stung regardless.
“Ah, first blood. And now…” The woman drew back, a wild glint in her eyes.
The door to the kitchen had remained open from when the Vincanan had entered, but now it slammed against the far wall. Rosalynne could not look away from her enemy to see who had come in time to witness her death. A whistling sound had her gasping as something long and silver flew over her shoulder at a do
wnward angle and struck the Vincanan straight through her stomach.
Ulric marched forward and shoved the sword’s blade in deeper and deeper, forcing the woman back. Blood leaked from the wound even before he yanked the sword free, and she collapsed to the floor.
Rosalynne’s hands trembled, and her dagger clattered to the ground. “How did you…”
“I could not sleep this night, and I thought I saw you enter the kitchen earlier. I debated joining you but thought it wasn’t my place, and I… When the fighting started, I had to fight my way here to you, and I almost wasn’t here in time. You’re injured!”
He lifted her wounded arm, but she pulled herself free and cupped his face, her thumbs rubbing his soft skin. So badly did she wish to kiss him, but as ridiculous as it seemed, with the Vincanans here to fight and kill her, but in an effort for peace, she was betrothed to the Vincanan prince.
Peace was more important than anything else.
Even love.
67
Princess Vivian Rivera
The three guards left to watch over Vivian were pathetic. All of them were males, and they were complaining about cramps and acting as if they were dying.
Whoever it was that had sabotaged the water supply was Vivian’s personal hero. She wished she could hug him or grant him a title. Something. Or her. The saboteur could have been a woman. Who might have done it? Why? Vivian didn’t think any of the scouts would do something like that of their own accord unless maybe Ulric had sent out one of the men or women from his militia? She supposed that was a possibility, and she would ask him. Soon even. Well, after the battle.
A battle she had every intention of taking part in.
But first, she had to free herself.
And then claim back her weapons.
And deal with those three.
“You all are pathetic,” Vivian called. “Do you not have women back on Vincana? Do you not have mothers, sisters, wives? Well, perhaps not wives given how much you are nothing but lousy whiners. You’re a bunch of skamelar.”
“We aren’t scroungers,” one of the Vincanans moaned.
“Not parasites either,” another one added.
“No, but parasites might be what’s ailing ya,” she said tartly.
“You think so? You think she’s right?” the third asked.
“She’s a prisoner. She’s one of them—”
“I’m one of Vincana,” Vivian said, and she thought back to what Marcellus said, and she wandered if maybe she was not entirely lying. “Describe your pain. Is it here?”
She rubbed where she felt cramps during that time of the month.
One of the men nodded. “That’s about right.”
“A sharp, stabbing pain? A cramp?”
They all nodded.
“Oh, well then. All you need is a few leaves from a dwarf toe plant.”
“A dwarf toe plant? Now we’ve heard everything.”
“I’m serious!” she protested. “I know it doesn’t grow down south in Vincana because it’s too sandy there. The dwarf toe plant needs to dig roots down deep. The leaves look just like toes, little bitty ones. There shouldn’t be some too far from here. If one of you go and look, you can use a torch, it shouldn’t take you long to bring the leaves back. I’ll let you know if it’s the right plant or not, and you can eat the leaves and be cured.”
They argued amongst themselves, two thinking her a liar, one willing to maybe go and see.
The one who was willing to believe her was by far the one that was the worst one off. The contaminated water affected their bowels, and he was right miserable.
“I can’t go and look,” he whined. “Please? I mean, have you eaten it?”
Vivian nodded. “Yes, sir. Every month.”
His eyes widened, and he turned to the others. We have to.”
“We don’t have to do anything,” one of the others grumbled.
“Fine, but if I…” He mumbled something Vivian couldn’t quite make out, but she highly suspected that was just as well.
The man tottered off, hunched over, and another one hurried after him a minute later.
The third glowered at Vivian. “I’m going to find out who you really are.”
“I’ve told you. I’m Cateline—”
“You’re a liar.”
She shrugged. “Maybe I am a liar. Maybe eating the leaves of dwarf toes will kill you because it’s the roots you need to chew on instead and then spit out. I don’t know. I can’t quite recall. Mayhap if I could walk around a bit—”
“You can walk around a bit in there,” he said with a snarl.
“We found it!” the one guy said, rushing back over, the one who was not quite so poorly.
“Where’s your friend?” Vivian asked.
“He can’t walk,” the guy grumbled.
“That’s a pity,” Vivian murmured. “If he is that poorly off, and it is a parasite, well, it might be too late for him.”
“Too late!”
Vivian nodded solemnly. “We sometimes have to boil the water first before we drink it to make sure it’s safe from parasites. Some will kill you. Some cause stomach aches and pains and ailments. Some are more like worms, and they’ll head to your eyes and your brain and—”
“Listen to her,” the disbeliever said. “She’s making this up as she goes along!”
“You aren’t from around here. You wouldn’t know,” she said coolly. “I’m a spy all right. A spy for Vincana against Tenoch but I’ve been undercover for so long that you’ve forgotten about me. Antonius wasn’t always in charge, was he? No. There was the council, was there not? Who always met in the forum. They would decide matters, but I suppose none on that council is here, now, are they?”
The two glanced at each other.
“Of course not,” Vivian spat out. “You know our ways, that we start training young, not just how to be a warrior but how to be a spy as well. I was sent here when I was young, and I only ventured back to Vincana when I had something of importance to tell the council, something far too important to tell them through a missive.”
She held her tongue, fearing she had said too much. Thankfully, during some of the time when she had spent hours reading what she could in the royal library about dragons, she had stumbled onto a few notes about how Vincana worked and operated as a continent separate from Tenoch Proper, back before her father ruled.
“I can help you,” she said smoothly. “I know about herbs and such, and I can help the other guard. Let me free. I know the herbs, how to crush them, which ones to crush, how to make the tea he must drink. Keep that fire hot. Please! Release me! We haven’t much time!”
The one who had gone off with the other freed Vivian, and she went about gathering herbs. The helper held the torch for her to see, and she made a tea. Then, she had the helper direct her to the sick one. He was sweating profusely, curled up in a ball, and she eased his head into her lap as she forced his lips apart and made him drink. Almost immediately, he began to snore.
“He’s sleeping now,” she murmured.
“Obviously,” the disbeliever said.
“There’s some for both of you. If it is the parasite I think it is, you will be in as much pain as he was in. Please,” she begged. “Drink it.”
“What if you caused him to sleep with it?” the disbeliever growled.
“Fine,” Vivian said, and she took a sip.
The other took it and drank, and finally, so did the other.
Both of them then collapsed, asleep, and Vivian spat out the tea.
She hadn’t lied. The medicine did help with cramps, and the bit about the parasites hadn’t been a fallacy either. All Vivian had neglected to do was to admit that she added a few other herbs to also ensure the guards would sleep and nearly immediately too.
Swiftly, she raced about the camp, entering and exiting tents until she discovered where they had placed her weapons. Armed once more, she grabbed a torch and raced off. She was far behind the Vincanans, so she c
ould not send a warning to the castle. The battle had most likely already started, but she would be there in time to help end it.
And maybe the Vincanan threat against Tenoch would finally end.
68
Bjorn Ivano
The Vincanans fought and fought hard, and they were not going down. They weren’t dying. Their skill with blades were uncanny. Thankfully, few on either side were falling, but the horde in front of the queen’s bedchambers were a gravely concerning issue.
Might there be another way to reach her room? Bjorn struggled to think as he fought and kicked a Vincanan in the stomach to give himself some space. The queen’s room had a balcony, did it not? He thought that was the case. Did the rooms on either side have balconies as well?
With renewed purpose, Bjorn fought and struggled to push back the Vincanans. Two were coming at him, and he ducked beneath the arc of one blade, used a short sword to parry the other’s blade, and sliced with his sword. None of the weapons drew blood, but Bjorn managed a step forward and then another.
Onward and onward, he pressed the two away from the horde. More soldiers and knights from Tenoch were coming up the stairs, reinforcements, but they were attacked from behind by even more Vincanans.
Clearly, this was an attempt to assassinate the queen.
What of the other queen? Sabine? Had he not heard that Sabine had been demoted from power? He thought that was the case, that he had heard about it somewhere, mayhap had even spoken about it to Olympia, but in the heat of the battle, as he struggled to stay alive, he could not recall what he thought he knew and what he actually truly did know.
He had won a tourney, yes, had been the champion, but this battle was nothing like that. This was ruthless and brutal, and he did not know how he could possibly come out of this unscathed.
And he would not.
As he reached for the door to the room to the right of the queen’s room, a sword dug deep into the soft flesh next to his left shoulder. The force of the thrust had him jerking back, and as the Vincanan yanked free his blade, Bjorn stumbled forward, as if wishing to fall back onto the blade.
