“This is why these men were sent with us, Olver. To ensure that the royal blood survives. They were nothing but sheep sent to be slaughtered. You and I both knew it. Think of the people back in Indius, think of your father, Olver, and let’s run away.”
Olver looked around and saw only a handful of soldiers, fighting, failing and perishing. Then he looked at Elsa, who had already mounted her destrier, with Sanrick slumped in front of her.
She plans to escape as well. And a wiser king in my place would do the same. And how I would love to follow her. But alas, it’s death I must follow now.
“I must stay and fight,” Olver said resolutely, “it’s the stones that matter, not the royal bloodline.” And with that, he shoved his hand inside the pouch that hung from his sword belt and took out the stone that glowed faintly with the sigil of the Liongloom dynasty.
“Here, take this and save the realm if you can,” the stone sat in the palm of Olver’s outstretched hand, as he sliced the head of a bat with a side-slash with his other.
“You are a fool, Liongloom. You are willing to throw away your father’s life for a few songs of bravery that, perhaps, only dead men will listen?” Diyana shot two arrows, and they went through the head of the bat that Olver had just beheaded.
“My father would rather have me kill him with my own sword than be handed a life bought with cowardice. It's not for songs that I fight, but for tradition. And our tradition dictates that we fight until either no enemy remains on the battlefield, or until the blood stops flowing in our veins,” Olver threw the stone towards Diyana and she had no other option but to catch it mid-air, “Now go after Elsa, for she is the only hope we have now. I am afraid Garen has deserted us.” Olver did not wait to hear what Diyana said. It did not matter. It was a great blessing to choose the manner of one’s death, Olver knew. And here, deep inside the Endless Forest, face to face with creatures no man had ever laid eyes upon, by the side of his men, he could die proudly, knowing he did what his father would have expected him to.
Death danced all around him, wearing the cloak of screams and pain. He saw Sir Pederick get mauled by a greyish human-bat, its mouth tearing open the knight’s belly, leaving his entrails hanging out like a deer skinned. Olver readied himself for the last fight of his life, a dagger in one hand and his longsword in the other. A trio of bats stood facing him, breathing heavily, their saliva dripping and falling on the ground like melted cheese from a slice of bread.
But this time, it was Olver who started to run towards certain death, for even he knew he could not defeat three of these vile creations of Vizarins, although he hoped to die with his sword thrust in at least two of them. He raised his sword over his head, and the bats spread their wings to take flight, screeching in a voice that could wake the dead from their graves. However, Olver’s own scream rang in his ears, as the king of Indius was enveloped and consumed within a storm of black wings that descended upon him like harbingers of demise.
Chapter Five
Diyana Ishoca
SHE WAS COVERED in blood. Blood of Harduinians and of Calypsians, and blood of her own people. It trickled down from her hair and her armor and onto the white coat of her horse, leaving behind thin veins that looked very similar to the ones on the leaves. However, Diyana did not stop to wash herself when she crossed a stream, and neither did she stop when she thought she would fall off her horse because of sheer exhaustion and pain. The last sight of the battle still burned in her head; Olver running towards the bats, Sir Pederick lying in a pool of his own blood, a Maeryn warrior crawling towards her sword, one of her legs lying a few paces away from her.
To hell with Lionglooms and their foolish bravery. I thought the boy had wits about him, but all he had was a false sense of bravado. Perhaps Garen did the right thing. Perhaps he was the right choice.
Diyana had not cared to find either Elsa or Garen when she had escaped. All she wanted to do was get as far away from the creatures as possible, before one of them saw her and decided to pursue. But after having ridden for hours, she realized she had to find one of them, if this quest was to be salvaged. But she did not know where to begin. The scenery around her had not changed much, except for the color of the ground which had lost the red and now looked the usual brown. Trees still grew tall, and the leaves still had veins on them.
The early morning sky was above Diyana as she finally brought her horse to a halt. She stripped her armor and threw her sword and her bow to the side and collapsed by the side of a massive tree trunk and closed her eyes. She relished the lightness she felt after the weight of the armor left her body, and for a few heartbeats, she forgot the pain that throbbed through her arms ever since she left the battle. She looked down and saw bite marks on her left forearm, and a piece of skin missing. A gentle breeze picked up and blew over the open wound, causing it to throb with increased severity. She tore a piece of clothing from her tunic and tied it around her forearm, which caused her to squirm and scream in pain. And then suddenly, she felt the strength leave her body and darkness creep before her eyes. She went limp and surrendered to the weakness that assailed her.
Darkness was soon replaced by blurry visions. Smoky figures started to take shape, and she saw hints of mountains, rising from a great plain, and then she saw a city perched among the snowy summit of the mountains, and she realized she was looking at Silentgarde, her home. But soon, the snow that covered the summit of the mountains, and surrounded Silentgarde, turned into lava that slowly began to flow down from the mountains, towards her home and towards her people. She saw the lava consume houses and taverns, she saw the stables catch fire and horses running wildly, men and women ablaze, throwing themselves off from cliffs in order to end their misery. And then the vision went up in black smoke which slowly took the shape of a face she knew too well. And fear gripped her bones.
The face hovered before her eyes momentarily, before vanishing and causing her to regain consciousness. Her eyes fluttered open, and she sat up straight, scanning the trees which were barely visible in the morning fog that floated menacingly all around her, expecting Vornoth to emerge from it, with the same smirk that he had in her visions.
The throbbing in her arm had subdued, and so had her breathing. The blood had dried up in her hair and on her face, sticking to her cheeks and forehead like dry mud. She tried scratching some of it off from her face and then realized it would take her the whole day to completely rid herself of the sticky substance. And thus, she waited.
It was for a long time that the Maeryn princess sat hunched against the tree, her horse trying to graze small patches of grass that grew around the trunk, it’s coat and mare glistening with the blood that had oozed from Diyana’s wound. But as the sun climbed in the sky, and the cool morning breeze began to get stuffy and humid, Diyana decided it was time to begin the search for her companions. She tried getting up with the support of her better arm, but the weakness beat her back to her knees, and she collapsed with a thud, surprising her horse with the sound.
It’s my arm that is missing a chunk of meat, not my legs. Why can’t I get up? Or am I destined to die here? At least dying with Olver would have earned me a place in one of his songs, whereas dying here would achieve nothing. I MUST GET UP!
Diyana tried once more, but to no avail. The horse, having gotten used to seeing its rider fall to the ground, again and again, continued grazing in ignorant bliss. However, it was the sound of another horse’s hooves that really stirred Diyana into action. She got hold of the horse and pulled herself up, as pain tore through her arm and legs. She bit her tongue and prevented herself from screaming, although the pain was tempting her to open her mouth and howl like the bats she had recently killed. She hoisted herself over the horse and tried to bring it to a trot. A part of her wanted to stay and see who it was, but the rational part told her to hide.
But where do I hide?
Panic took hold of her when she realized the rider was upon her, and her horse was refusing to move. It neighed and whi
nnied and began to throw its head back and forth. Perhaps it was exhausted as well. Diyana realized there was no point in running now, and so she notched an arrow to her bow, and waited for the rider to emerge from the fog. The pain in her arm was making it difficult for her to hold her position, and just when she thought she could no longer hold onto her bow, the rider broke free from the fog, and galloped towards her, and for a heartbeat Diyana thought her mother had come to rescue her, to save her daughter from the torment of the Vizarins. But she knew that could not be possible. Queen Ayana was safe behind the white walls of Silentgarde, while she was deep inside a place where the queen could not find her even if she wanted to.
The rider drew nearer and Diyana saw that it was actually a woman who rode towards her and it did not take long for her to recognize who it was. The golden hair that flew behind her and the emerald eyes that shone even from a distance were the most recognizable features in the realm. And the fat boy that sat hunched in front of her, with eyes half open and an arm missing only helped Diyana to breathe a sigh of relief and let go of her bow and arrow.
Elsa Faerson rode up to Diyana in a dented armor and riding a wounded horse with claw marks on its neck. Her face bore cuts and scratches as well, but the blood that covered Diyana from head to toe was nowhere to be seen on the Harduinian princess. However, Sanrick was a different tale altogether. The boy appeared to be in a daze, his face white as the snow. The armor had been stripped from his body, and all that remained was the bloody surcoat over a dirty tunic that clung to his fat body, and a trouser that was torn in places. However, Diyana could not remove her eyes from the place where his arm had been ripped. Pus and blood oozed from the hole and bits of skin hung loose like threads from a ripped piece of cloth. Elsa would keep wiping the pus and blood away with a piece of cloth, but soon, the wound would start oozing again, and Elsa would dab at it, and the boy would shout and scream until the veins in his neck would become visible against his pale skin.
Poor lad won’t survive. And death would serve him better at the moment. Anyways, he will wish for it by the end.
“How did you find me?” Diyana asked after Elsa had helped Sanrick off the horse and had laid him on the ground, his body trembling slightly.
“You overtook me, and after that, I just followed the tracks of your horse,” Elsa said, as she sat on the ground and closed her eyes for a moment, “I called out to you, but you were riding like the wind.”
“I wanted to put as much distance as possible between the bats and me.”
“Hmm, I realized the battle was a lost cause when our soldiers started to drop like flies, and when my brother lost his arm.” Elsa gazed at her brother, and Diyana saw the sadness in her eyes and felt the pain in her voice.
“I grieve for your brother,” Diyana whispered, looking at the king of Harduin that lay shaking on the ground before her, “we never had a chance, did we? From the moment we were surrounded by those vile creatures, I knew escape was the only choice we had.”
“So, who else escaped? I don’t see Olver and Garen with you” Elsa asked, her eyes refusing to leave her brother.
“Garen fled within a few moments of the beginning of the battle.”
“And Olver?” Elsa asked as her eyes finally met Diyana’s, and Diyana noticed the strain in her voice.
“He decided to stay and fight.”
“And you let him?” Diyana sensed a bit of hostility in Elsa’s voice.
“You do not ‘let’ the king of Indius do anything. He is not a child, and neither am I his nursemaid. He decided that the tradition of dying a brave fool was more important than saving the realm.” Diyana retorted.
“Did you try, Diyana? Did you at least take the stone from him? Or do you also not care about saving the realm?” Elsa’s voice was restrained, but the words were cold and stabbed Diyana like icicles.
Perhaps her bitchiness stems from her grief for her brother. Or perhaps she is just a bitch.
“I did ask for the stone, but he refused. And before I could argue further, he was surrounded by the bats, because I hope you remember, we were in the middle of a battle, and not whispering words of love in a glade hidden away in the forest of Eravia.”
Elsa did not show her resentment even if she felt it. She hardly displayed any emotion, and maybe that is why Diyana lied about the stone, for she had still not figured out the princess of roses and her motives.
“Well, then we should go back, shouldn’t we? Without the stones, this quest or mission has no meaning. And believe me, I do not go back to lay my eyes on the dead face of a king I spoke a few words of love to in a glade in some forest. I go back for the stones that would save my kingdom and my people, and mayhaps my brother.”
“That would be a folly,” Diyana responded with exasperation, “We need to find Garen or continue forward. Even if we go back and do find the corpse of Olver, chances are, the bats will be standing on it, guarding the stone, just how the Vizarins would have ordered them to.” Elsa smirked at the mention of the Vizarins.
“The Vizarins? Who knows what they really want? They ask us to unite and proclaim a single king, but to do it in one of the deadliest places on Aerdon. They ask us to repent for the mistakes of a kingdom that no longer exists, and then when we do make efforts, they send their monsters to stop us from doing it. I wonder why we continue to worship these gods, who play with us like a puppeteer with puppets.”
“Who are we to question the beings that created the world? Who are we to question their justice?” Diyana said, “and who is to say Azgun has perished? Until yesterday, I thought bats were the size of my palm and posed no greater threat to me than a man trying to get in my gown at a tavern in Riverhelm. I will not be surprised if the sails on the ships of Azgun fly once more on the shores of East Shade.”
“Why East Shade?” asked Elsa.
“Because that is from where they sailed away, into the waters of the Serpent Sea, thousands of years ago, and thus, that is where they might return. Don’t you think?” Diyana said and thought she had finally won a small victory when Elsa did not reply immediately.
“Well, then East Shade will welcome them with open arms. For a kingdom that has returned from destruction and death is a kingdom that should be feared, not fought against, and that is where Olver Liongloom and I differ in our traditions. It’s not always aggression that wins battles, Diyana, but also alliances.” Diyana opened her mouth to respond but was cut short by Sanrick’s scream of agony as Elsa dabbed at his wound once again. Diyana could see beads of sweat shimmering on his forehead like small diamonds studded into his skull.
“His body burns. He needs a healer.” Elsa whispered.
“He needs his wound to be washed by the waters of Eliptis.”
“What is that?” Elsa asked.
“The leaves of the tree Eliptica have healing qualities. They are soaked in water, and the wound is then washed and cleansed along with the paste made from crushing the leaves. It is known to bring dead men back to life.”
“And where are these trees found?”
“On the mountains of Zaeyos, near Silentgarde.”
“And did you bring these leaves with you? Knowing you will be going on a perilous journey where they would surely be of help?” Elsa asked in the same mocking tone that was beginning to test Diyana’s patience.
“They only work a day after having been plucked from the branches. They would be useless on this journey.”
“Well then this entire conversation was useless, wasn’t it, Princess Diyana?”
“No, it did help me find out that you are an arrogant self-loving wench. So, it was pretty useful to me. And I will not be accompanying you back to Olver. I still think it would be a mistake because of more reasons than one.”
One of them being me slitting your throat on the way.
Elsa was silent for some time, before she spoke in a voice that had lost all of its sharpness and assumed a sweetness that had been entirely absent previously, “I understand it must be
hard for a Maeryn, let alone a princess to take her orders from someone else. Believe me, it is the same for me as well. But seeing as all the royalty of Aerdon rode together inside this wretched place, a little understanding on all our parts would only help serve our cause. I plead you to turn back and accompany me and search for the stone. If you want to save your people, then I am afraid those tiny black fragments of magic are our only hope.”
But I have the stone, you dumb woman. Going back would be a waste of time and a risk to all our lives.
“I hope you are telling the truth, Diyana, that you do not have the stone,” Elsa leaned closer to Diyana, and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, “I would be very disappointed if it were to tumble out of your bosom while you twirl around in a fight,” said Elsa as her eyes traveled down to Diyana’s chest.
Diyana’s heart was in her mouth as she suddenly felt the presence of the stone tucked in her corset that she was wearing beneath her tunic. She knew Elsa would find it easily if she suddenly decided to be a little handsy. In a normal setting, Diyana would have welcomed that, perhaps she would have taught this fierce cat a lesson in the confines of her bedchamber, but currently, her word as a Maeryn was at stake, and she did not want to be bested by an arrogant princess. She was the arrogant princess, and the world had room for only one.
“Very well, I am willing to go back, but only if I get to hold onto Olver’s stone if and when we find it and manage to escape alive.”
“We have a deal, I accept…,” Elsa could not finish as Sanrick opened his eyes and croaked in a feeble voice
“No…don’t….please…don’t…not back to them,” Sanrick breathed in short gasps as words escaped his mouth with difficulty, “Toren’s book…a whole chap..a whole chapter about…a…about not going back.”
“Brother, conserve your strength. Do not think of such matters. Let me handle them,” Elsa said, cradling Sanrick’s head in her lap, but the boy looked back at her with wide open eyes. A look of horror was on his face. It was as if a nightmare had taken hold of his memory, a nightmare he was not able to shake off, as it played over and over again in his mind, even when he was wide awake.
The Passage of Kings Page 12
