***
Three hours past midnight, the fighting ensued but not as vigorously. The dwarves had worn down. They were scarred and bloodied. Exhausted. Elf and human warriors pressed against the Vykings, but at a slower pace than the dwarves. The battle line was nearing the Royal Gardens. Without the elf archers and dwarf riflemen, they probably wouldn’t have gotten this far.
Dawn had seen Waxxon several times, but she couldn’t get past the line to get to him. She understood that once she finally reached him, their battle would be the harshest challenge of her life. He had killed each of his attackers in a matter of minutes. His experience fighting was far greater than hers.
During the battle she seldom had to fight, as the knights placed themselves before her. The weary dwarves formed a protective wall around and behind her. Any straggling Vyking was killed in an instant.
She was half convinced that the Vykings had not surrendered because they had nowhere to flee. If the fires from the harbor indicated anything, the dragons had destroyed their vessels. It seemed the Vykings had earned their fearful reputation from raiding helpless villages along the coasts. The villagers were poor folks that didn’t possess the proper weapons to defend themselves. The Vykings were now confronted by armored warriors, which posed a more difficult challenge than they had ever expected and greatly lessened their odds of winning this battle. They were too stubborn to surrender or admit defeat.
Dawn just hoped they got to Waxxon soon.
***
When the Vykings were pushed back into the Royal Gardens, Waxxon fumed. He removed his helm, set it on the ground, and glanced at Artos. “The Vykings are the only ones fighting on our behalf. What happened to our troops?”
Artos shook his head. “After the dragons incinerated all of the archers along the front walls, the others that haven’t joined Lady Dawn have hidden.”
“The Vykings don’t seem to notice the absence of our soldiers.”
“Which is a good thing. Although, in their frenzied state, it’s highly unlikely that they’d stop fighting. But, we still have archers along the castle walls. If her armies continue pushing toward the castle, we might tilt this battle back in our favor.”
Waxxon was too angry to let any worries pry into his mind. From where he stood, he held a good view of the battle line. Beyond the battlefront lay hundreds of dead bodies, mostly Vykings.
“Unbelievable,” he whispered.
“What is?” Artos asked.
“How poorly these Vykings actually fight, and to think how much I had feared them when they first arrived.” He looked through his spyglass, scanning the frontlines. “Damn.”
“What?”
“Prince Manfrid is fighting against us.”
Artos frowned, glancing up at Waxxon. “He is?”
Waxxon nodded.
“And the other prince?”
“I don’t see him.”
“What became of the dragons?” Artos asked.
“After they went to the harbor and burned the Vyking fleets, I have no idea. I imagine that all of the Vyking ships have sunk.”
Artos nodded. “I know. What of Lady Dawn?”
“Still looking,” he said, staring through the spyglass. He finally located her. “She’s surrounded by her troops. Even if I wanted to get close enough to kill her, they have a tight barrier around her. No way I can get to her.”
“Are you any good with a bow?”
Waxxon grinned. “It’s been a long time since I used one, but I was pretty good with them when I was younger.”
“Wait here. I’ll get you one.”
“Splendid.”
***
Trevor fired an arrow from the side street. It zipped through the air and lodged into the neck of a Vyking on the frontline. The Vyking toppled backwards but was quickly replaced by another.
“Twenty-one,” he said with a grin.
Sarey sighed and shook her head. “Enough! It’s not a game.”
“Perhaps not, but you seemed to imply that I had little chance for success in fighting them. Twenty-one is good, eh? I think I may hunt for the Frost Giant after all.”
“We have a greater advantage since we are a distance. It’s different fighting hand-to-hand.”
“Would you like me to find a sword and prove that as well?”
“No.”
“Because I could.”
“I want you to stay alive. Reckless actions will get you killed.”
“Ah, now, wouldn’t be wanting that, eh? Might be missing me after all?”
Sarey huffed. “It’s hard to miss an ass.”
She turned and walked into the square to get farther away from him before she smacked him in the face several times. Hard.
“Now don’t be walking away like that, Sarey. That hurts . . . “ he groaned abruptly and gasped. “It does . . . ya know?”
Sarey glanced back over her shoulder, ready to yell insults at him, but instead, her heart sank. He leaned his back against the wall. His hand clutched an arrow sticking out of his chest. The pain on his face indicated that he wasn’t playacting. She rushed to him as he slid to the walkway beside the wall. Blood oozed around his fingers.
Dwarves shouted, “Archer! Shields up!”
She glanced to see the dwarves form a high wall around Dawn with their shields. Tears burned her eyes and trickled down her cheeks. “Trevor . . .”
“Don’t be crying now,” he said in a shallow voice. “I’ll be no more trouble for ye.”
Sarey shook her head. More tears flowed.
“I want you to know . . . I really do love you. Maybe . . . maybe I got under your skin . . . in all the wrong ways. But I came back . . . because I couldn’t live without . . . you.”
She kissed his cheek.
With tears in his eyes, Trevor stopped breathing and what remained was a lifeless stare. Another arrow struck the granite wall above her head and glanced off onto the street.
Sarey rose. She turned to see the direct line of fire from where the arrow had come. The dwarves held their shields, and beyond them, under the bright moonlight, she saw two figures standing in the midst of the Royal Gardens. She set an arrow into her bow and fired.
***
“Damned dwarves,” Waxxon growled, lowering the bow.
Artos jerked and clutched the shaft of an arrow stuck in his throat. The captain dropped against a granite bench, gasping and wild-eyed.
Waxxon’s eyes widened. He ran from the open garden toward the pavilion. From the shadows stepped a tall muscular female warrior. Her eyes blazed like flickering red flames.
“Going somewhere?” she asked, forming a ball of fire on her hand.
In the light of the glowing fireball, he noticed her golden dragon belt.
“Who are you?” he asked.
“Taniesse.”
“What do you want?”
“To right the wrongs you have done.”
Waxxon nervously looked at the fiery orb. He stepped backwards.
“Uh-uh,” a voice said from behind him.
He turned.
Dressed in emerald green, with eyes just as green was another beautiful yet fierce-looking woman. An even grin crossed her lips. With a simple wave of her hand, she formed a fireball on her palm.
“You are?” he asked.
“Odessa.”
Waxxon glanced between the two of them. Swallowing hard, he attempted to back away from both of them. They simply laughed.
Another woman said, “You have to realize that you’re not running away.”
He gasped.
Standing dead center of the three women, his eyes revealed great fear. The sisters walked in a circle around him. Their eyes feasted upon him with a longing hunger like he was the prey caught inside their trap.
Chapter Eighty-seven
Waxxon stood still. With each of them carrying balls of fire, it was a matter of time before they destroyed him. He tried to hide his growing fear. “This battle isn’t over.”
Taniesse crinkled her nose and grinned. “Oh, but it is.”
He eyed the balconies while standing with great defiance.
“Looking for your archers?” Taniesse asked. Amusement rose in her voice.
The stunned expression on his face needed no worded reply.
Footsteps ran across the roof of the pavilion. He smiled.
Taniesse tilted her head back as she laughed. Odessa and Neela joined in.
Waxxon frowned and cocked a brow.
“They’re not here to rescue you,” Neela said from behind him.
The footsteps thudded across the roof and continued along the narrow bridge that connected to another pavilion.
“You might be surprised,” he replied.
Neela shook her head. “The few dedicated to you are no longer alive. You can take great delight in knowing that they foolishly refused to offer their allegiance to Lady Dawn. They swore they’d die defending you. We readily obliged their oaths.”
“How can you be so certain that the others are not still loyal to me?”
“Eyes reveal one’s soul,” Odessa said.
“Not always.”
“If not, fire made believers out of them. Seeing your loyal guards charred to the bone . . . convinced them that serving you is futile. Can’t you detect the faint scent of burnt flesh flowing in the breeze?”
Waxxon winced.
“Some of that scent is probably from the scorched Vykings on the docks,” Neela said.
“That’s true,” Odessa replied. “The odor of burnt flesh is similar amongst all races.”
“Except Ratkin,” Taniesse said, scrunching her nose.
“Right, right,” Odessa said. “Such a horrid odor. Burnt fur.”
Waxxon frowned. “Who are you?”
“We told you our names,” Taniesse said.
“What are you?”
Odessa gave a slight tsk. “Haven’t you guessed?”
“You give him too much credit, sister,” Neela said. She glared at Waxxon. “We’re dragons.”
Fear widened his eyes. His body shook.
Taniesse took a step out of their circle and waved him toward her. “Come this way.”
“Why?”
“To see how this battle ends.”
Waxxon closed his eyes and sighed. He walked behind Taniesse. Odessa and Neela stood behind him. The orbs of fire cast strange multiple shadows off him as they walked.
From the corner of the garden, they stood, watching the frontline.
The archers stood on the rooftop and commenced firing arrow after arrow into the back of the Vykings’ skulls. When Lehrling and Roble noticed what was happening, they yanked Riese and Manfrid from the frontline and the dwarves motioned the two Vyking allies to crouch near Lady Dawn where the archers couldn’t see them.
After the archers fired several hundred arrows, they leveled the remainder of the mass Vyking army. When all of the visible Vykings lay dead on the ground, Dawn’s armies raised their weapons in the air and cheered.
The dwarves holding shields around Dawn lowered them.
“All hail Queen Dawn!” Caen shouted.
Everyone around her joined in, chanting her praise and triumph over and over.
Waxxon flicked his gaze toward Taniesse. “And now?”
“The new queen wishes to kill you.”
“Does she now?”
“You seem quite amused about your execution,” Odessa said.
“She won’t kill me.”
Taniesse smiled evenly. “You seem quite confident in your reply. But, we shall see. But, if she chooses not to, you know we will not hesitate.”
Waxxon swallowed hard and nervously averted his gaze.
***
The sisters moved Waxxon to the Royal Courtyard outside the castle. Lady Dawn stood in the center with the Dragon Skull Knights, the Dwarven kings, and Odlon lined on both sides of her.
Boldair, Dwiskter, and Drucis stood near the front of the audience that was a mixture of warriors and townspeople.
The three sisters stood behind Waxxon as he faced Lady Dawn.
Caen handed Dawn a short sword. She placed it into her sheath.
Dawn had spent many days in her mother’s court, listening to different cases and pleas, and then her mother’s judgment. She met Waxxon’s hardened gaze. He showed no remorse, only smug contempt. Hatred coursed through her.
“You’re a traitor and a murderer,” Dawn said in a cold tone. “For these crimes, I find you guilty and your death shall be immediate.”
“What?” Waxxon said. “No trial?”
“This is your trial. What more do you wish?”
Dawn stepped across the lawn toward him. She drew her sword. Waxxon grinned with smugness.
“You killed my mother,” Dawn said. “And you are responsible for the deaths of . . . no telling how many more.”
“I’d gladly kill your mother again,” Waxxon said. “The greatest shame is that I didn’t get the pleasure of killing you. I had so dearly wished that we could have met face-to-face on the battlefield. But, as it is, we see that didn’t happen.”
“Are you challenging me? You want me to hand you a weapon?”
Waxxon smiled. “That’d be more fair, wouldn’t it?”
Taniesse shook her head.
Dawn held her silence for a moment, thinking. Everyone in the courtyard stared at Waxxon with pure abhorrence. Every warrior had his hand on his weapon, ready to charge if necessary.
She looked into his eyes. “Was it fair that my mother had no weapon when you crashed through my chamber doors with swords and axes to kill her?”
Waxxon didn’t reply. The smugness vanished.
Dawn pulled her sword. “I heard my mother’s final scream. I was hiding inside my wardrobe with my maid. I will always remember her frantic cry. That’s not something a person forgets. Hand you a weapon? No. But take your life and watch you breathe your last, I will.”
“You’re the executioner?” he hissed with a sly grin.
She plunged the short sword through his gut before he noticed her move.
His eyes widened with surprise, pain, and fear.
Dawn held the blade, looking firmly into his eyes. She didn’t flinch, nor did any remorse surface in her eyes. With cold contempt, she smiled. He lowered to his knees, unable to break their gaze. Blood leaked from the sides of his mouth as he gasped to breath. The life fleeted in his desperate eyes. She yanked free the blade and allowed him to fall to his side.
In some way, she felt better delivering the deathblow. Retribution had finally been delivered. But killing him didn’t bring her mother back. Caen rushed to her, took the blade from her hand, and then he pulled her to him, embracing her.
“It’s over,” he whispered.
She shook in his hold. “Thank you.”
“I’d do it all over again, Dawn.”
Staring down at Waxxon’s dead body, she whispered, “So would I.”
Taniesse turned and faced the crowd. “One week from today we will hold Lady Dawn’s inauguration ceremony. We will celebrate with a great feast.”
As the people in attendance left the courtyard, Taniesse met with Boldair.
Exhaustion hung on his face. Fresh wounds were on his face and hands.
“How does it feel leading an army?” she asked.
He forced a grin. “We won, but it’s not something I wish to repeat.”
Taniesse glanced toward Staggnuns, Ulthor, and Thorgum as they were approaching her and Boldair.
“What decision has been made concerning your father?” she asked.
Boldair’s face hardened. He spat upon the ground.
King Staggnuns nodded and offered a slight bow toward her. “Since the atrocities King Ulthor committed may also play a role in King Erik’s demise, Boldair, King Thorgum and I are requesting that he be imprisoned in Hoffnung until she has the proper time to call a hearing. Boldair will assume the throne in Ulthor’s place.”
Taniesse looked at Bold
air. “Do you agree with such a decision?”
“Aye, for now.”
“And you, King Ulthor?” Taniesse asked.
“For my transgressions, I will yield and honor whatever judgment befalls me.” Ulthor’s eyes were saddened. He sighed.
“Very well,” she said. “Lady Dawn is over there with her knights. Escort your father and explain the circumstances. Let her do the rest.”
“Aye.”
Chapter Eighty-eight
The following morning Lady Dawn stood on the balcony outside the bedroom chambers that had once been her mother’s, which overlooked the city. Sadness stirred inside her, seeing all the death along the Royal Courtyard, the Royal Gardens and the Great Square.
Even though the citizens were busily loading dead bodies onto wagons, the stench of death already traveled with the breeze. Smoke and the scent of burnt flesh drifted in the air, too.
Dozens of ravens had been released to send messages to all of the kingdoms throughout Aetheaon about her inaugural ceremony the following week. Sighing and shaking her head, she didn’t know that she wanted to spend her life ruling a kingdom, even though it was her rightful duty since she was the only heir.
The three dragon sisters requested that she meet privately with them after the ceremony. More than that, they didn’t disclose the purpose for the meeting.
She had grown to enjoy traveling the rugged terrain, meeting new people, and seeing cities that she had never seen before. The confines of the throne limited all of those pastimes. Of course, witnessing the things she had and experiencing hardships had molded her to become a better queen than she might have otherwise been.
Dawn sat on the edge of the balcony railing. The pool of blood where she had slain Waxxon had browned but remained evidence that justice had been served. But it didn’t seem like it had.
All the training, her lust for revenge, and the battle to reach Waxxon ended with one swift plunge of a sword. All of that to kill a murdering traitor.
After Caen took Balo into custody and placed him into the dungeon until his trial, Caen was to report the tally of the total war casualties to her. She already grieved for those that had sacrificed their lives in order for her to retake the throne. A lot of them weren’t even Hoffnung citizens.
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