The Rising

by Kristen Ashley

  He whispered, “Papa?”

  Silence pressed herself to his side.

  His father’s head bent as he looked down to Silence.

  “Papa,” he called.

  Ares looked to his son and he smiled greatly.

  “I knew you would love her,” Mars said softly, and Silence pressed closer to his side.

  “I am sorry, you must say your farewells,” Medusa warned.

  “I am happy,” Mars told his sire.

  And then he watched his father’s handsome face grow soft with love and pride.

  This, before his form shimmered and disappeared to nothing.

  Mars closed his eyes and tucked his chin in his neck.

  “He’s almost as handsome as you,” he heard Silence whisper.

  He opened his eyes and cupped her cheek with his hand, settling into the gift he’d just received that his father had seen his wife.

  And could share that Mars had earned his pride.

  She smiled tremulously up at him.

  “Aramus,” Medusa called. “Mars. One more thing. Please approach.”

  He dropped his hand from Silence and looked to the goddess.

  He then moved her way as Aramus came from the other end to do the same.

  Medusa stood.

  Triton sighed with what sounded like displeasure.

  Medusa shot him a look that was definitely displeasure.

  She then turned her beatific gaze to the two kings.

  “You love mermaids,” she stated.

  “Indeed,” Aramus replied.

  “Yes,” Mars stated.

  “Very much,” Medusa said quietly, watching them closely.

  “Indeed,” Aramus replied.

  “Yes,” Mars stated.

  “So be it,” she said, then swept her hand in a line up her front before she regained her seat.

  But she did this as Mars felt an odd sensation occurring under his jaw on either side of his neck.

  “You will not transform,” Medusa informed them. “You love a Mer, but you are not Mer. But you do not have to hold your tridents or another Mer to join your loves as they swim in The Deep.”

  Mars’s body locked.

  If this was true, when she frolicked in her (other) home, he would not have to wait for Silence’s return.

  And he would not have to worry.

  “We can breathe on our own under the sea?” he asked.

  “Yes,” she answered. “And please, my Fire King, take her to see her brother often. They will miss each other if you don’t.”

  “This I will do,” he rumbled.

  “You can go back to your wives,” she murmured.

  When he turned, he saw Silence was beaming.

  He grinned at her as he moved over the sand.

  She flung herself in his arms the instant he got close.

  He wrapped his arms about her and lifted her off her feet.

  “Can we be done with this now?” Triton’s voice boomed low, and bored.

  “I wasn’t threatening and forbidding, making my kings and queens, princes and princess avoid keeping me company,” Medusa returned as Mars set Silence on her feet and they returned their attention to the gods, Mars now holding his wife’s hand. “I enjoy visitors,” she finished.

  “You always did,” he muttered.

  “Yes, I always did,” she snapped.

  “Perhaps we can argue without an audience,” Triton suggested.

  “And you make this suggestion to rid us of our audience,” she retorted.

  Triton sighed.

  Medusa shifted her gaze about the women, declaring, “Marriage is difficult, my queens. Stay hearty.”

  Mars heard female laughter along with Silence’s giggle.

  He, however, was not thinking good thoughts about quarreling gods.

  They’d learned that lesson surely enough.

  “And I suppose you should go. We are grateful for your visit, even if one of us is very bad at showing it and…” Medusa’s voice dropped, “I hope you now see we are most grateful for other things besides.”

  With this, Jorie, who was standing off to the side, jerked his chin up to them and led the way back down the velvety beach.

  He entered the water.

  His mighty tail formed.

  Silence and Mars entered the water behind him.

  Her beautiful tail formed.

  But, holding tight to his trident in one hand, Silence’s hand in his other, as Mars ducked under and kicked toward the tunnel, he felt the difference.

  Before, it was as if his breath was suspended.

  Now, however it occurred, after an odd ripple at his neck, he breathed freely.

  He felt Silence’s attention and turned his head toward her.

  Through the water he saw her smiling happily.

  And thus, Mars swum toward the depths at his wife’s side.

  Doing this contentedly.

  Johan Mattson, Former Lord of the Arbor

  The Shanty, Notting Thicket

  WODELL

  “I wuz…” he slurred, “I wuz landed and my daughter is a queen.”

  The man shoved at his head which made Johan tumble from his chair.

  “Bugger off, arsehole,” he said, pushing his own chair back, walking away, and in the doing, kicking Johan’s face, accidentally, or on purpose, Johan did not know.

  And as he forgot it happened but moments after it did, it did not matter.

  “I wuz landed,” he drunkenly told the floor. “And my daughter is a queen.”

  No one heard because no one was listening.

  Johan didn’t say it again.

  Because he’d passed out.

  Eventually, the pub owner, checking his pockets and finding nothing in them, even if the man had totted up a hefty tab at the bar, took his boots and cloak as payment, and tossed him out the back.

  By morning, in an alley in the Shanty, Johan of the Arbor had frozen to death.

  One of the city guard who did the pickup in the Shanty that now, at King True’s order, sent the mugs to the city morgue whereupon their descriptions were printed in the paper for three days before they were given a pauper’s pyre, if they went unclaimed, recognized the dead man.

  He’d seen him outside the Temple of Wohden on his great king’s wedding day, all dressed up in a lord’s finery.

  He informed Birchlire Castle of his finding.

  Who informed Sir Alfie Henriksson.

  Who had the body collected, and at the behest of True, burned on a not-so-pauper’s pyre.

  No one but Alfie and Bronagh attended, and they only did it because it was the right thing to do.

  Vanka didn’t, because she refused.

  Silence and True didn’t, because they were still in Mar-el, in attendance at a celebration with the kings and queens from the Northlands and Southlands prior to their friends departing to journey home.

  But also…

  They simply just couldn’t be bothered.

  Sir Alfie Henriksson, King’s Counsellor

  Crittich Keep, Notting Thicket

  WODELL

  When Alfie arrived at the Keep, he wound his reins around the hook in front of him, tossed the rug from his legs, bent to the side and unsnapped his wheel from the floor of the chariot.

  He then bent to the other side to undo that one.

  He pushed the lever which tipped the wain back, then twisted at the waist, and freed the lock on the back door, which swung open.

  He then wrapped a gloved hand around one wheel as he unlocked the other, and vice versa.

  His exit set, Alfie backed out, wheeled to the Keep, and nodded to the guards who opened the door for him.

  One followed as he entered.

  “Where are they?” Alfie asked.

  “You asked for them all, sir, and seeing as there are a number of them fucks, ’scuse my language, milord, but no other way to describe ’em, we’ve set ’em in the Council Chambers,” the man answered.

  Alfie nodd
ed.

  He then turned right at the end of the entry hall and wheeled himself to the Council Chambers.

  There were two guards on either side of the chambers’ door.

  One moved to open it.

  Alfie wheeled in.

  The men were standing against the back wall. They looked sunken and haggard and as if they were what they’d been for some time now.

  On the run or incarcerated.

  They had wrists chained in front of them connected to further chains that ran up to their throats and down to their ankles as well as being chained together.

  Regardless, there were two guards on either side of the door on the interior, and three lining each side of the room.

  Alfie wheeled in and instructed, “You can keep the door open. I won’t be long.”

  “Sir,” a guard murmured his assent.

  Alfie looked down the lot of them, and as he had better things to do, he didn’t delay.

  “You’ve each been identified by one or more of the surviving women you abducted. And it’s been reported you were also instrumental in the kidnapping of Tedrey Swensson, Our Brother Golden Hair, the hero of the Battle of the Beasts. As is your right on the soil of Wodell, you will stand tribunal. However, I’ve received a raven from our king, and he advises no pleas of mercy will be heard. Thus, when you’re found guilty, you will be hung by the neck publicly, in the Lawn of this Keep. Due to the heinousness of your crimes, your families will be disallowed to collect your bodies. You will be burned on a communal pyre. Thus, if you have any family, I would advise you get word to them. You will each be allowed a single visit in order to say your goodbyes.”

  He looked to the side and up to a guard.

  “That is all, you can take them back to their cells,” he finished.

  And not having removed his hands from his wheels, he began to make his turn to exit the room.

  “It wasn’t our idea!” one called out.

  Alfie looked in the direction of the voice.

  “It was…we were under orders,” he stated. “You understand. We were at war.”

  “You were at war with forty-one women?” Alfie asked.

  “They were…they were…that was…” the man stammered, shook his head. “I do not know what that was. I was not in my normal mind. None of us were. It was like a…a…frenzy. We’d all gone quite mad.”

  “To that, I’ll agree,” Alfie replied.

  And before the man could say another word, he turned and wheeled away.

  It was unsurprising when, one month hence, Alfie sat in his chair on the Lawn at Crittich Keep and watched all the men who had been in chains in that room as they were hung by the neck until they were dead.

  He did not allow his stubborn woman to accompany him.

  And as a first, she did not argue.

  Hans Swensson

  Trevor’s Gorge

  WODELL

  It had been a herald in royal livery who had stood at attention at his door and handed him the missive.

  A missive with the green wax seal on the back.

  The seal of the king.

  News of late was much, it came swift, and it was weighty.

  The treachery of that bloody Rising.

  Servitude abolished in Mar-el.

  Civil War fought and won by King Cassius in Airen.

  The massacre of those poor girls in the Lesser Thicket, though he’d been pleased to hear them Rising arseholes who did those deeds were now good and dead.

  And the Battle of the Beasts in Mar-el across the sea.

  There were some who even said gods rose from that nonsense, which was ridiculous, but many people believed it.

  Considering the visit he’d had from his son and his son’s…people, Hans was not terribly surprised when he received a message with the royal seal.

  But his system seemed to stop as he read it, as written, not by some aide or the King’s Counsellor.

  By the hand of the bloody king.

  Hans Swensson ~

  It is my sad duty to inform you that your son, Tedrey Swensson, was lost in the Battle of the Beasts.

  Tedrey’s sacrifice was bold and courageous. He saved a number of lives in his time on this earth, including one that day.

  His actions were instrumental to the end of that grave, arduous battle, and without them, it is unknown if The Rising that occurred would have graced our company.

  As such, I send this missive not only to share the sorrowful news that your son, understood by all who knew him as honorable and brave, is lost. But also to share that, due to his selfless act that terrible day, there will be a memorial erected in his honor~Tedrey Swensson, Our Brother Golden Hair~in the capital of his native land, Wodell, as well as one in the capital of his adopted land, Fire City in Firenze.

  I would request that, when these memorials are unveiled, you would not attend either ceremony.

  Yours,

  ~True

  King of Wodell

  I would request that, when these memorials are unveiled, you would not attend either ceremony.

  Hans read those words again and again.

  As well as the words, understood by all who knew him as honorable and brave.

  And the ones, Tedrey Swensson, was lost in the Battle of the Beasts.

  Only after all of these words were imprinted on his brain did he drop the hand holding the parchment and look out the window to his fields.

  His boy worked those fields with him. He did not complain. He got up early, he worked hard, he fell in bed tired.

  He did not complain when his mother left them.

  He did not complain when Hans beat him and sent him away.

  Hans’s seed had made a solid man who became a hero.

  And none of that glory was Hans’s.

  On this thought, he wept.

  Not for glory he could not claim.

  For the loss of a son he would never know.

  Queen Elena

  Royal Palace

  THE ENCHANTMENTS

  “Aelia!” Cassius boomed.

  My head come up from reading the letter from Farah and I looked out the window to where my husband was standing on the balcony.

  “Aelia, I swear to the gods, if you’re astride a horse, you’ll find it difficult to sit on anything!” he shouted.

  I pressed my lips together to stop myself from laughing.

  “Dora, is she on a horse?” he suddenly asked, and I saw him looking down to the ground at, obviously, our eldest girl.

  “No, Cass,” she answered.

  “Are you lying to me?” Cass pushed.

  I pressed my lips together harder.

  Dora didn’t answer at first.

  This meant yes, she was lying.

  “Theodora,” Cassius growled.

  Oh dear.

  Her full name.

  “All right!” she exploded. “It wasn’t my idea. It was Aelia’s!”

  When I noted Cassius made to move, Dora went on speaking quickly.

  “But she’s fine, Cassius. Promise! She’s with Mac and Hera!”

  For a moment, Cassius didn’t speak.

  And when he did, his words were lethally measured.

  “If you will, go tell my bloody captain, and Ellie’s bloody captain, that I wish to see them. Immediately.”

  “All right, Cass,” Dora agreed.

  I envisioned her racing off.

  My husband prowled into the room.

  “I was riding at six,” I, possibly foolishly, informed him.

  “We’re not having another child,” he declared.

  I blinked up at him.

  “I survived an attack on a palace,” he went on. “I survived a bombardment of arrows in a bloody temple, for fuck’s sake. I survived the Battle of the Heights. The Battle of the Veil. The Battle of the bloody fucking Beasts. And my daughters are going to kill me.”

  It was actually beginning to hurt, holding back the laughter.

  When I managed to do that, I said, “Yo
u know Mac and Hera will not allow anything to happen to her.”

  “She’s too young,” he gritted.

  “She’s smart, she’s sure of her limbs, she loves animals so she can read one, and again, Mac and Hera would never allow anything to happen to her.”

  “I told her she could learn to ride in a couple of years, Ellie,” he bit out.

  “Yes, and she should have to endure your anger and disappointment that she disobeyed you,” I said softly. “But Cass, you cannot protect us all, in all ways, in everything against everything.”

  “Yes, I can, for I must, it is why I’m breathing,” he retorted.

  Which, in turn, made me stop breathing.

  “Though, I understand your point,” he muttered.

  “Good,” I forced out.

  With that, Domitia stormed in, doing this walking backwards.

  And shouting.

  “It’s only a little magic, Ian!”

  “You do not practice alone. You practice with your mentor,” he growled in return, following her in. “Melisse was nowhere near you when you nearly singed your eyebrows off.”

  And I again found myself in the endeavor of having to stop myself from laughing.

  “But I didn’t!” she snapped.

  “But you almost did,” he retorted.

  She brought her hands up in fists at her sides and shrieked, “You’re impossible!”

  “And you’re a gods-damned menace,” he fired back.

  She made a huffing noise, turned and raced up the stairs that wound around the trunk of the tree.

  Ian scowled after her.

  Cassius decided to wade in as advisor.

  “You really need to fuck her, mate.”

  Ian transferred his scowl to Cassius before he turned on his boot and stalked out the door.

  “You do know, it was very rare people shouted at each other before men were allowed in The Enchantments,” I remarked.

  Cass looked down at me.

  And then I received my treat for the day.

  I was able to watch my husband throw back his handsome head and burst into laughter.

  Queen Silence

  Queen’s Study, East Corridor, Catrame Palace, Fire City

  FIRENZE

  A good queen did not get bored.

  A good queen did not get bored.