When Claws and Swords Collide

by N M Zoltack

  Breathing easier, Rase remained standing there until Leanne's bath was done. Then, he guided her to her bed, gave the maid a few coins, and sent her to find new clothes, including a nice dress or two for his sister.

  “I think this might be too much,” the maid said timidly.

  Rase glanced over the coins. She might be right.

  Torn between appreciating her honesty and wanting to snatch back the extra, he just nodded for her to go.

  She scampered out of there, and he almost prayed to the Fates that she wouldn’t run off with the coins, but he couldn’t bring himself to. The Fates had abandoned the Ainsleys. Why should he waste his breath asking them for anything at all?

  Leanne sat in the bed without lying down, her face turned to the window. Rase rushed from the room, dumped the vegetables onto a plate, added some sauce on the side, and returned to the bedroom. He placed the plate on her legs, left the room, fetched a pitcher and a glass, and once more came to her side.

  His sister didn’t eat at all and would only part her lips to say, “Dragon” or “Dragons.” It got to the point that Rase would say the word so she would open her mouth, and he tried to shove a piece of vegetable into her mouth.

  “The dragons want you to eat,” he finally snapped.

  “Eat?” she murmured.

  She didn’t reach for the food, but her gaze did land on the plate, and this time when Rase brought a piece of carrot to her lips, she opened her mouth and bit into it.

  It took him an hour to feed her, and then she laid down. He covered her with the blanket and turned to leave.

  “Don’t go,” Leanne murmured.

  Rase nodded and sat beneath the windowsill across from the bed.

  She might’ve smiled, but he probably imagined it.

  There was something not right with his sister, not at all. How could he fix her? Was she beyond saving at this point?

  19

  Princess Vivian Rivera

  The horse remained tethered to the spot where Vivian had left him, and she untied him despite her fingers being a bit uncooperative. Despite the heat from the nearby flames as the village still burned, her fingers felt as cold as her entire body felt numb.

  How had this happened? How had the dragons returned?

  Her thoughts turned to Garsea. She had come across the monk in Olac. He had lived in a monastery that housed a great deal of scrolls concerning the dragons. Would he be pleased that the dragons had returned? Without a doubt, but would he have known or suspected that the dragons would douse their rebirth in flames?

  Fire could be so utterly destructive. It wasn’t cleansing like water.

  Vivian had spent plenty of time by the water, on the waves. Ships had been her home for many weeks and months. If she had to pick, however, she would choose the land every time.

  But when the choices were water or fire, she would pick water every time.

  Or would she? The thought of drowning terrified her. At least with fire, if she could put out the flames before they consumed her, she might stand a fighting chance.

  By now, the sun had set, and Vivian guided the horse a little farther from the burning village. Near another tree, she tethered the horse again, and she climbed the tree, sat on a branch, and waited for the dawn. She did not sleep much, her position above the ground as well as her constantly churning thought rendering her incapable of rest. As such, she was rather shocked to realize she hadn’t realized the horse had managed to become untethered and had wandered off sometime during the night.

  Perhaps that was just as well. Vivian almost missed living in the wilderness, surviving on the land, but it wasn’t the easiest for her to locate game. The animals were frightened by the fire, by the dragons, too, she suspected, and she had to rely on plants and berries to sustain her.

  Vivian felt more than a little lost, however, after a few days passed. She knew she must return to the castle, but what good would she do there? What might she find there? A dragon had flown toward the castle, after all, and if the dragon wished to dismantle Atlan Castle, flames would not be his recourse. No, he would use his claws or even merely slam his body against the stone walls.

  What was the point in fighting? In fighting the Vincanans? In fighting the dragons? They very well deserved this fate, this anger from the dragons. The Fates had abandoned the people, or perhaps the Fates of Chaos and Death were reigning supreme. The dragons clearly cared little for the people, and why should they?

  Garsea. He must be utterly heartbroken, Vivian assumed, or perhaps this would not surprise him in the least. He had kept mostly to himself in the monastery, not paying most people any heed.

  But he had her. Why? It almost seemed as if he had known she would be there, in that city, so far from her castle. Had he waited for her? If he thought to use her somehow, he hadn’t made that clear enough. Not that Vivian wished to be used, of course, but she just felt so utterly out of place.

  She no longer felt like a princess. The balls, the gowns, the thoughts of marrying a noble… Vivian did not have a care for any of that. No longer did she envy her sister the crown she wore. It was as if Vivian had ceased to be the Princess of Tenoch Proper.

  But she was not of Vincana, no matter what that prince from the south declared. The Valkyries would not hesitate to strike her down, to kill her, especially because she had lied to them and infiltrated their training grounds.

  The Valkyries. At one time, they had been the warriors of the dragons. Now, they merely served Vincana, but with the dragons returning, would the Valkyries have no choice but to forsake that allegiance? Without the Valkyries, the Vincanan military might would be greatly diminished.

  Tenoch did not feel like home, but Vincana would not welcome her either. Vivian felt as if she were at a crossroads, but she did not know which path to take nor where she would end up.

  Or who she would become.

  Another day passed before Vivian approached Atlan Castle. For now, this was her home, even if it now felt alien to her.

  The building, although still standing and complete, had char marks, and the courtyard had been nearly destroyed. Just beyond the castle walls had been burned heavily, but no fire sparked now, and there was no smoke. The stench of fire in her nose was merely a memory.

  If any of the few gathered outside the castle acknowledged her, she paid them no heed, and she also ignored the guards who opened the heavy doors for her. She hated that the doors slammed shut behind her, and she closed her eyes a moment, swaying. She felt weak, not from lack of sleep or nourishment. No, she felt drained, weary, as if she had come a much farther distance than she actually had.

  And there would be no respite here.

  Instead of seeking out Rosalynne, Vivian headed for the chapel. Perhaps she should have bathed first and changed her attire, but she did not think that until she already reached the chapel door.

  As she was already here, she eased the door open. It creaked, heralding her arrival, and she was shocked to see that the pews were nearly filled with peasants and even a few nobles.

  By the altar stood Vicar Albert Leeson, as tall as he could manage despite his stooped back. His deep voice droned on as he prayed to the Fates. Once he finished, the people trickled out. Vivian shifted over closer to the statue of the Fate of Death. Previously, Vivian hardly ever entered the chapel. When she had been young, the sight of Death had frightened her. Now, it no longer did as she had not only seen death up close, she had caused it.

  Her gaze wandered over the stately statue, that of a shadowy figure in a swirling mist. Although painted black, gray, and brown, she thought the brown appeared more reddish, the color of dried blood.

  Albert Leeson groaned as he approached her once they were alone. "Princess Vivian, how fares you?"

  “The dragons have returned.”

  “Indeed, so it seems they have.”

  “No, not seems. They are back.”

  “Are they the same dragons as of old?” He held out his hands. “Who can say?”
>
  “If they aren’t, then who are they? What are they?”

  “There are some questions us mere mortals are never to learn the answers to.”

  “Or you are ignorant and cannot answer them,” she said coyly, finally shifting her gaze to his face. The man had far more wrinkles than the last time she saw him, his white hair a bit thinned out. His bumpy nose looked as if he had been rubbing it raw as of late.

  He lifted his bushy eyebrows. “I never professed to know all,” he protested.

  “Vicar Leeson, how could one learn more about the dragons?” she asked suddenly.

  “There are texts—”

  “I don’t suppose the dragons would talk to a human, would they? They can talk, can’t they?”

  “Ah, I do believe I read on one occasion that the dragons could speak, yes.” He tapped his temple. “In one’s mind. That is to say, however, that not all who hear voices in their minds are sane, so perhaps those people had been mistaken.”

  Vivian pursed her lips. Somehow, it did not surprise her to learn this. The dragons might only speak to a chosen few, and the others, being jealous or vindictive, might very well claim to say those who could hear were touched in the head.

  Noll. Her brother had been touched in the head. If she knew her brother at all, he wouldn’t have been frightened in the least by the dragons, not even if one had been moments away from blasting him with fire. He had a strength to him, even if his mind had not been quite as it should have been.

  “Where’s Tabes?” she asked, changing the subject. Oftentimes, her brother’s dog could be found here, in the chapel. It was as if the canine recalled that his owner had been brought here after he had been killed.

  “Perhaps with your sister,” the vicar murmured. He grunted as he shifted over to stand before the Fate of Life.

  Vivian followed his movements with her eyes and scowled at the cherub that represented Life. Life had not been kind to her brother or to the Riveras.

  “Do we deserve this terrible affliction, this scourge, this curse?” she murmured more to herself than to the vicar.

  “I apologize, Princess. I do not understand that which you mean.”

  She waved her hand. "The dragons were gone for so long. The Fates ruled above even the kings of Dragoona. My father used chaos and death to try to bring about peace, but look where that peace led us. That peace was false. Chaos has only ever ruled since my father took the throne, since he murdered to claim the crown. He's dead. His queens are dead, as is his son. So many have died, all because of what my father did."

  “You believe the Riveras are cursed,” the vicar said quietly.

  “Would it be possible that we are?” She held her breath.

  “Curses have long been believed as a true act. Have you heard of the female alchemists, how they are cursed?”

  “I know of it,” she murmured. “So it is possible that the Fate of Chaos cursed the Riveras.”

  “Oh, no, not Chaos, no. You all are, more or less, the agents of Chaos.”

  “Death then.”

  “When one life is taken…” The vicar trailed off.

  “How many more were taken back?” Vivian snapped. A part of her wished to draw her sword, to slash at Deaths’ face.

  But one could not fight death and win.

  "What feels like a lifetime ago," she said, her tone softer now even though her chest remained tight, "you mentioned how you dreamed about dragons."

  “Indeed, I did.”

  “Do you still?”

  “Have dreams concerning dragons? No, Princess Vivian. I have had no dreams as of late, only darkness.”

  “You do not have to call me Princess Vivian,” she said.

  “But that is your name,” he protested.

  “I am more than my title.”

  The vicar appraised her for a long moment, the pair silent. After a time, he nodded. “You aren’t who you used to be, no.”

  “I’m not,” Vivian concurred, “but I am not who I wish to be either.”

  “And who do you wish to be?” he pressed.

  “I hope Death doesn’t come for me before I find out. Good day, Vicar.”

  Swiftly, Vivian left the chapel behind, and although she sought out her sister, she could not find Rosalynne anywhere. Feeling very much out of place, Vivian returned to her room, left it again after only a moment, and went to her brother's room. Here, she could breathe somewhat. That was until grief threatened to overwhelm her, and a single tear trickled down her cheek.

  20

  Queen Rosalynne Rivera

  The small size of her council meant Rosalynne had no one to argue against her ideas, but it also meant that unless she had ideas, there wasn’t much to be done. Aside from Wymond Ward, she had no true other council member, as she did not trust her father’s advisor, Aldus Perez. The man was a treacherous snake, and he had sought to advise both her and Sabine. What he truly sought, however, was nothing more than power and authority.

  That said, when Rosalynne spied the tall, handsome man down the hall, nodding to someone out of sight, she stalked toward him.

  “Ah, Queen Rosalynne.” Aldus bowed greatly, his arm sweeping to his stomach as he bent over. “How may I serve you?”

  “Walk with me,” she commanded.

  “Whatever you wish.” He brushed back his slicked blond hair as he fell into step beside her. “A terrible fright the dragons gave us.”

  “Indeed, but it’s been half a fortnight since one attacked the castle.”

  “As such, I think we need to ignore the dragons for now.”

  She paused and turned to face him. While the keep was filled past occupancy with many of the villagers, this hallway was now mostly empty. The few servants bustled away, and she wrinkled her nose at the advisor.

  “The dragons are not attacking the castle, no, but that does not mean that the rest of the realm is safe from them! We also do not know when they might strike again, and we cannot wait for that to happen.”

  “What we cannot wait for—I should say, what you cannot wait for—is for you to be the one and only Queen of Tenoch Proper.”

  “Unless you have been imbibing in a great quantity of alcohol, you cannot honestly believe that Tenoch Proper truly exists,” she snapped.

  “Oh, but it can again one day. All you must do is—”

  “Let me guess. You wish for me to marry and to marry now,” she said dryly.

  “I know I have mentioned this to you before, but yes, that is precisely what you need, what Tenoch Needs. If you wish to give up Tenoch Proper, that is your choice. You can rule as much or as little as you choose… Or perhaps I should be speaking with Sabine instead?”

  “Ah, yes, try to force the queens to fight against each other while you encourage that fight so that you will be on the winning queen’s side. Do you honestly think the two of us are that blind?”

  He merely smiled. “Do you wish for her to rule over Tenoch for the rest of her life, however long or short that might be? Do you wish to abdicate your claim to the throne? Step aside and let her fall? Because Sabine will fall. You have seen the signs. She has not been raised to rule from the moment she was pushed from her mother’s womb.”

  Rosalynne was quiet. Her father had quested and sought to prevent war. The Lis, her father thought, were too weak. Vincana would have risen up against Tenoch.

  But somehow, despite his march, Father had fallen in love with Mother. Her father had been advised to marry for the sake of the kingdom, but he had married for love. He married her mother before he took the throne, and she had been pregnant with Rosalynne when the two of them had been crowned. Yes, Rosalynne had been a princess her entire life until she had been named a queen.

  Named a queen. Not reigned as queen. Sabine was the ruling queen. Rosalynne was just a queen in title alone.

  Titles mattered not.

  “Sabine is not the leader Tenoch needs,” Aldus urged. His massive dark eyes zeroed in on Rosalynne’s lips. “You are. You can lead us out
of this darkness.”

  She eyed him, unmoved by his words. The sight of him disgusted her. He was all that was wrong in the world—corrupt, self-serving, ambitious, obsessed with power and supremacy.

  “You haven’t shaved recently,” she remarked.

  He chuckled and rubbed the scruff on his chin. “I have been a bit preoccupied as of late.”

  “Or does Sabine prefer this look?” Rosalynne asked coolly.

  His eyebrows lifted, and he laughed outright. “You have passion, Rosalynne. You should—”

  “You do not have the right to call me by my first name,” she scolded. “You will treat me with the respect that my position is owed.”

  “All the more reason for you to maintain your hold on the title of queen,” he said, undeterred by her sharp tone.

  “If I wish to be married, I would marry.” She hesitated. “Who would you suggest?”

  She figured he would mention someone ridiculous, such as Marcellus Gallus so that the threat from the south would be neutralized. He had pushed for the union previously. With the war here on the castle grounds itself, that ship had sailed even as more ships sailed up from Vincana.

  To her surprise, the advisor merely smiled.

  The conversation over in her mind, Rosalynne walked away, rushing to run but wishing to have as much space between herself and the man she wished she could find guilty of some kind so he could be locked away and prevented from any sought of machinations and plans against her.

  21

  Sir Edmund Hill

  The days off had been bad enough, but after returning to duty for a week, Edmund was then instructed to have another two days off. He hated this even as he understood it. Overly weary soldiers meant dead soldiers, and in times like these, they needed as many soldiers alive for as long as possible.

  Edmund knew he was living on borrowed time. As a knight, he had sworn to protect Tenoch, to serve the soil, to obey the queen—er, queens.