When Claws and Swords Collide

by N M Zoltack

  Why, then, did they return now? What is it that drew them back? Did they know that the men and women of Dragoona had gone too far? Was the war going on now between Tenoch and Vincana—stalemated as it was for the time being—the war to end Dragoona? Did the dragon seek to stop the war?

  Or did the dragons seek to stop all humans from taking another breath?

  59

  Sir Edmund Hill

  The orders to march to Rapid Falls were most welcome, especially as Edmund was to be in charge of the troop, but he could not help but almost consider questioning his queen when she added, “Ulric Cooper and his militia will be accompanying you.”

  “My Queen,” Edmund started.

  Queen Rosalynne lifted a hand, smiling patiently from Edmund to the man beside him. Her dark eyes glittered, and she seemed quite pleased with herself.

  “We do not know how the city has fared under the short reign of the Vincanan Prince.”

  “Do not call him that,” Edmund said through gritted teeth. “He is nothing more than a pretender.”

  “Some could say the same concerning my father,” the queen said mildly.

  “Aye, and have their heads cut off for it,” he grumbled.

  "The people might need more help than mere protection," Queen Rosalynne continued. "There have also been dragon sightings in the area. You will go, roust out the Vincanans, and aid and assist the people of Rapid Falls as they need. You have one hour to depart."

  “Of course.” Ulric bowed down.

  Edmund bowed as well. “As you command.”

  He lifted, grunted that Ulric remained bowed, and swept out of the room. That the two whispered behind him disgruntled the knight. He had heard about Ulric and all he had done for the kingdom, and while Edmund appreciated that, this was clearly a case where Edmund and his knights would handle the fighting while Ulric and his band would deal with the cleanup.

  Only Ulric did not see it that way, Edmund discovered as the two leaders marched at the head of their groups within the hour.

  “We can fight just as well as you can,” Ulric was arguing.

  “You are how old?” Edmund asked.

  “What does that matter?” Ulric’s eyes darkened.

  “I am one-and-twenty.”

  “I’m only a year younger than you are.”

  “And yet I am a knight, and you are not.”

  “I have been assigned to this quest, the same as you. We can work together—”

  “Precisely!” Edmund urged his horse to go a little faster, but Ulric had his keep pace. “We will fight—”

  “Exactly. We all will fight,” Ulric said through gritted teeth.

  “It’s quite possible that if a dragon arrived, that the town does not need to be fought over at all,” Edmund muttered.

  “I refuse to have such pessimistic thoughts before a battle,” Ulric said firmly. “I strive to think of victory and nothing else.”

  Edmund merely shook his head. “Does that work for you?”

  “I’m alive yet, so it’s worked well enough so far.”

  “You are a curious man, Ulric.”

  “Yes, I know. I was a servant, and now… I am not a knight, no, but…”

  “You wish to be.”

  Ulric’s nostrils flared, and he glanced over at Edmund. “I want to be worthy.”

  Worthy of what, the young man did not say.

  For a long moment, they were quiet, but once they approached a small hill, Ulric halted his horse, so Edmund did likewise. Their accompaniment did as well, awaiting orders from their leaders.

  “I have been thinking about the layout of the city,” Ulric said. “I mentioned this to the queen, and she said it was for us to decide the best course. I would have you halt and wait all of half of an hour. Then continue your march straight on to Rapid Falls.”

  “And what will you do?”

  “My militia and I will slip around to the river. We will follow along it until we reach the cliff.”

  “You seek to close in on the Vincanans from both sides.”

  “Aye.”

  “I doubt the Vincanans will allow themselves to be pushed back toward the cliffs, though,” Edmund mused.

  “Ah, but that is for you and your knights to force. They will have nowhere to go, and if the prince is with them…”

  “We could end the war,” Edmund breathed.

  “It is a solid plan, isn’t it?” Ulric asked eagerly.

  “Half of an hour might not give you enough time to scale the cliffs,” Edmund argued.

  “Then give us an hour.”

  “We are to have already started to attack. We cannot linger. The longer we tarry, the longer our people suffer under the rule—”

  “We do not know if they are suffering,” Ulric had the gall to protest.

  “You act as if you think the Vincanan who claims to be a prince to be a good and decent man.”

  “From my understanding, it is his father who professes to be a king that is forcing this on him.”

  “Oh, is that so?” Edmund mocked. “Have you spoken with this prince then? Have you sent a messenger bird to the King of the South?”

  “I haven’t,” Ulric said.

  “I’ve fought him,” Edmund boasted.

  “And he lives yet, and so do you,” Ulric returned.

  Edmund’s nostrils flared. “You do not dare to presume—”

  “You are the one presuming many things,” Ulric said. “My militia and I can handle a great number of things, more than you assume we can, and we will handle this, so long as you and your knights can handle what you are supposed to tend to on your end.”

  Edmund shook his head. "Do you even have a rope—"

  Ulric, staring straight ahead, was patting the rope tethered to his saddle.

  “Very well. Go, then, but if you should fall and crash upon the rocks—”

  “You won’t go and fetch my body?” Ulric asked with a smirk.

  Edmund did not answer but watched as Ulric motioned for his troops to separate from the others. They rode off too quickly for Edmund to say a further word with the other leader, but Edmund shook his head. The former servant reminded Edmund of himself. Ulric was trying to make a name for himself in this terribly cruel world they lived in, and it was not Ulric’s skill that Edmund doubted. He saw the likes of Ulric’s troops—merchants and farmers, men and women. They had survived this long, yes, but how many had they lost? Then again, there had been knights who had fallen as well.

  If the Fates were kind, the Vincanans would be the ones to fall this day.

  60

  Prince Marcellus Gallus

  The fires had all been put out, and Marcellus and his warriors were tending to those injured during the dragon's attack when Phillipe rushed over to Marcellus. The boy's eyes were wide, and his mouth was moving, but no words were coming out. He pointed frantically to the northwest, around the curve of the river, and Marcellus glanced over. His heart squeezed painfully.

  “Vincanans!” he called. “To arms!”

  His warriors did not hesitate. Although it bothered him to leave the wounded behind, Marcellus wasn’t about to allow his legionaries to defend the place without him by their side.

  “Go,” Mileva urged. She waved over several women, who were either starting to help the wounded or held shovels and kitchen knives.

  It warmed his heart to see that they would keep anyone from the wounded, but those from Tenoch would surely not hurt their own people?

  We should draw them out of the village, Marcellus thought, but to where? The river, the cliff, certainly not either, and everywhere else was farmland. The thought of trampling through the freshly toiling earth did not sit well with him either.

  By then, the knights were on them, and Marcellus had no choice but to fight. He was only wearing leather padding, not his full armor, not that he was concerned for himself.

  His sword came up in time to block a blow from a knight, and he kicked the man right in the center of his chest.
The knight stumbled back, and as he recovered, another knight took his place. Marcellus continued onward, fighting, attacking, trying to push the knights backward, away from the town. He wasn't so worried about landing killing blows so much as he wanted to keep the villagers safe. How was that for irony? Shouldn't the knights wish to keep their own people safe? He supposed, however, that that was precisely what they thought they were doing by having the battle in the first place—saving their people.

  Only the Vincanans had strived to improve the lives of those in Rapid Falls, not to injure them in any way. Those in Tenoch viewed the Vincanans as evil, but that just was not the case.

  Well, not the ones serving under Marcellus. Not the Valkyries, although they now served a new leader, or so he hoped. The Vincanans who would do anything and everything his father dictated, that worried Marcellus a bit. He knew his father well, and his father did not care for those lives of any who opposed him.

  The battle waged on and on. The knights gave as good as they received, and hardly any had fallen on either side, but the knights were relentless. They pushed on Vincanans, trying to herd them back into Rapid Falls, and Marcellus realized what they were doing.

  “Flavius, they—”

  "Have others climbing the cliff? Of that, I have no doubt."

  “What then do you suppose we should do?” Marcellus asked as he parried a knight’s blow that had been aimed for his chest.

  “We need to circle them around and force them to the cliff,” Flavius said. “Either that, or we head for our horses and flee.”

  Marcellus knocked down a knight and glanced over at the women helping the wounded and then at the burnt buildings that needed to be fixed. Although he did not know it for certain, he suspected that the dragon might have come because of the Vincanans. The people had suffered because of them, even though it had been unintentionally. As such, he felt a duty and a responsibility for them, and he wanted to help them with their recovery and the repairs.

  “I do love a good carol,” Marcellus said with a grin, and he danced away, circling to his right, shoving his new opponent into the village.

  It was not easy, maneuvering around so that the knights had their backs to the town, and the Vincanans now were the ones to advance the attack. They pressed onward and onward, fighting. By now, several had fallen on either side, but the Vincanans had the numbers. Even without the Valkyries, the bulk of their numbers were now with Marcellus. Although Marcellus hadn’t given the order, perhaps his men and women had realized that he was only killing when necessary because he was certain they could have fallen at least half of the knights by now otherwise.

  Two knights came at Marcellus, and he ducked down to avoid the higher blade, his sword, parrying the second. Before the first knight could retract, Marcellus forced the other knight’s blade upward to slash against the first’s. He raced forward, forcing them both back, and when he disengaged, he rammed his shoulder into the first knight’s. He staggered back, giving Marcellus enough room to bring up his sword. He stabbed at a weak spot in the armor of the second knight, enough to draw blood but not severely wound, and the knight staggered backward.

  Another knight came forward. There was something vaguely familiar about this one, and the two fought hard. This knight would not be willing to stop even if wounded, Marcellus could tell that right away. He found himself on the defensive right from the start, but then there was a splash.

  A knight had been pushed over the cliff.

  More splashes sounded, and then there were the newcomers, the ones Marcellus and Flavius assumed would be coming. They were relatively fresh, aside from their mounting the cliff, and a fair number of the knights had been pushed over the side. Marcellus fought despite his screaming muscles, and even when he knocked off the knight's helm, the man came after him, his sandy brown hair slick with wet, not rustled a bit by the strong breeze blowing from the river.

  The two danced with their swords, circling each other, the knight’s back to the cliff and then Marcellus’s, but the moment he managed to have the knight by the cliff once more, Marcellus kicked him hard in the chest.

  The knight grabbed his foot.

  The two started to fall, but Marcellus twisted his body and clung to the rocks he managed to grab onto.

  The knight, however, did not let go, not until Marcellus kicked his leg five times.

  That knight was a brute of a warrior.

  The splash below gave Marcellus grim satisfaction, and as he climbed back up, he grasped the heel of a dark-haired newcomer, causing him to fall down the cliff into the water as well.

  Flavius and a few others assisted Marcellus back onto level ground, and he glanced around.

  They had won, but it had not been an easy feat, and the knights could return and with more numbers next time. If so, Marcellus was not so certain the outcome would remain in their favor. Yes, the river could afford them a chance to escape, but it would be a cold, damp escape at that.

  And escape was merely another word for failure.

  61

  Queen Rosalynne Rivera

  The queen paced back and forth in the throne room. Light flittered through the windows, casting small rainbows where her steps tread, and she paused to glance at the light. It should be a source of hope, but all she felt was worry. There had been no word about the battle, but she supposed it was much too early for that yet.

  Still, she did not relish this. No wonder Vivian had insisted on engaging in the fight during the Battle of the Rivers. Waiting to hear what had transpired was enough to turn Rosalynne’s hair white.

  The door opened, and Rosalynne shifted her gaze from the window to the man approaching her. Even the sight of his slicked-back blond hair somehow made Rosalynne's stomach turn. She had spent far too much time with the man since her father had died. Even before that, she realized as he halted a foot away from her, far too close, but she would not back away for fear he would see that as him intimidating her. Aldus Perez had sought power even before her father had died, and although she had acted as queen before she had the crown, he had attempted to act as king in the king's name before he had passed. Now, his hold on power rested in the hands of the queens and how much they gave him.

  And he would take all they gave and more if they would allow him to.

  “What is it you want?” she asked coolly.

  “I am your advisor, am I not? I am here to advise you about any number of things. What troubles you?”

  “Nothing at all.”

  “Nothing at all? That is rather wonderful. I am pleased to hear that, although what might your subjects think to hear such news given we are at war? Or are we at war? There have been so few battles lately that it seems as if we—”

  “I assume you came because you wish to advise on a single point. What is it?” she asked, neglecting to see the need to inform him that there was actually a battle being fault this very moment.

  “You have how many major foes against you? The prince. His father, but if you deal with the one, the other will go away. Who else?”

  She eyed him, not saying a word, giving him more time in which to reveal his hand.

  “There is an enemy here within the castle, isn’t there? Someone who has plotted against your family already.”

  Sabine. He was insinuating that she should get rid of Sabine.

  Rosalynne beamed at him and clasped her hands to her chest. “Yes, you’re quite right. I should get rid of Sabine somehow, only I’m curious. Do you suppose you can tell me when you plan on telling Sabine the same? Not in so many words, naturally, but… Or have you already told this to her? Suggested, I should say, I suppose.”

  Aldus merely smirked. “Why would I tell Sabine to get rid of herself?”

  Rosalynne shook her head, beyond tired of his games. He thought himself a wise man, a player, but he had no stake in anything. He had no claim to the throne. Not unless he were to attempt to have a relationship with one of the queens.

  She eyed the man. He was older than
her, to be sure, but he was not entirely unattractive. She merely hated his oily demeanor. That said, she had long suspected that he and Sabine might have had a rather close relationship.

  And then there was the matter of Aldith. Someone had impregnated her.

  And Rosalynne wondered if she were gazing upon that very man.

  “You look as if you have a question for me,” he asked. “Please know you can ask me anything at all.”

  “And not have a straightforward answer.”

  “I always answer to the best of my abilities,” he protested.

  “Then did you suggest to Sabine she should try to get rid of me?”

  “No.”

  "Not today? Not yet today? Or do you merely mean to say that you no longer wish to play the both of us because you feel that the court of the public's opinion has turned away from her, given that her mother murdered my brother? Is that what you mean to say?"

  Aldus just continued to smirk.

  “Tell me about Aldith,” she said abruptly.

  "What about her?"

  “Did you father Bates?”

  “I do not know who might have slept with the queen.”

  She waved him away with a flick of her hand, but she was fairly positive that the man had truly said that he did not know who else might have slept with Aldith. And to think her father had allowed the woman to take on the name Rivera. Rosalynne was very grateful indeed that he had not made the same mistake with Sabine. Sabine was a Grantham through and through, and she was ambitious even if at times she seemed to be a bit almost frightened of the power she wielded, power that she had no business having.

  Rosalynne turned back to the window, allowing herself to be blinded once more by the rainbows and fractured light. If she were not careful, she just might give into Aldus’ advice after all.

  62

  Princess Vivian Rivera