Heir of Vaashaa: The Lost Child of the Crown (The Lost Child of the Crown Series Book 2)

by Celine Simpson

  We lay there together, his head on my chest, my hand stroking through his hair and I could have died happy, whole, in that moment without question.

  Lifting his head up eventually, he moved to place a kiss in the corner of my mouth before he scooped me up and walked us both into the water.

  Silas didn’t let go of me as he walked us into the pool, only shifted me around to face him.

  We spoke of sweet nothings for a long while, unimportant things like whether the colour of the moonlight was white, silver or perhaps even blue. We spoke about colours and sounds. Things we missed and things we looked forward to. We spoke about everything and nothing at all until words no longer seemed enough and we made love again in the cool embrace of the fresh water pool. This time I took the lead, it was maddeningly slow at first and turned quickly into a fast and deep release before we once again found ourselves locked together under the stars.

  By the time we moved out of the water the moon had shifted out of the way to where we could no longer see it through the opening in the canopy. We dressed lazily and then Silas took my hand and led us both back to camp.

  The rest of our company had long been asleep, the fire now a simmering bed of coals, but someone, probably Simeera, had gone to the trouble of laying out our bedrolls.

  We moved to them silently, side by side, and fell asleep facing one another with our limbs entwined.

  Twenty Two

  Silas

  The rest of the journey through the forest was uneventful.

  We had kept on our toes, not lowering our guard. We understood that a legion of Cander’s soldiers were camping in the forest treeline, but still my magic nor Terra’s could pick up a trace of anything.

  Terraleise observed the magic of the forest around us and could tell that it was whole. Nothing stolen, nothing missing.

  The trip forward on foot to the end of the forest landed us on the far outskirts of Venta, having taken us another day to arrive. We had made the decision to remain in the safety of the forest, to make a camp within its confines.

  The city of Venta lay directly ahead. Its outline was easily identified and from where we stood it looked untouched. Peaceful and running as normal.

  I had only been to Venta once as a young boy with my father. The city was home to music, theatre and art. Move was food, delights, and spices you could scarcely imagine, and Altrey was the soft-spoken sister to the colourful north, the proud and supportive observing sister to the east. It was a gentle minded city. Quiet and slow. It was colourful in its own right, but softer. Not so bright. It was the City of Flowers and gentle growers, or at least it had been. It was the soul of Vyterra, the ever-steady heartbeat. Venta was for the creatives. It was certainly an experience, and one I would share with Terra, maybe when it was not so fresh. If I closed my eyes I could image that I was hearing the joyful cheering and clatter of the streets, only quiet in the early hours of the morning and never for more than an hour at most.

  I stood and looked out over the plains that spanned between the forest’s edge and the start of the city, a wave of sadness and longing cascaded over me. A mix of my own emotion and of Terra’s. I heard her footsteps, leaves and twigs crunching under her boots as she made her way towards me. Sliding herself under my arm she wrapped her own arms around my waist, fitting perfectly under my chin.

  “Was it very beautiful?” Her voice was soft. The longing had come from her.

  “Incredibly so.” The sadness was my own.

  She looked up at me then, reaching up to place her hand on my cheek, drawing my gaze from the cityscape in front of me. The rounded tops of theatres and uneven roofs of buildings. A feeling of resolve washed over all the others down the bond that would forever connect us and I moved my eyes to hers.

  “We will fight for them, Silas.” She was so certain. I could feel that she meant it in every bone in her body. So, I kissed her once more and followed her back to our camp for the evening.

  The ruins of Venta were horrific.

  In many areas the city had been reduced to mere rubble. A collection of rocks and ash, a shadow of what it used to be. Most of the larger areas, the theatres and the Palace in Venta that housed many of the noble men and women, and some of the extended royal family, they were intact. But I refused to look inside knowing that the external façade was sometimes a brave face for the brokenness that lay within. We skirted around the outside of the city on the edge of the river, doing our best to pass by it quickly.

  It loomed at our backs hauntingly as we continued on beside the river. A reminder of what was to come should we fail. Should we not be strong enough, but I couldn’t afford to think like that now. None of us could.

  It took us another day and half to reach the part of The Shared River that flowed across into Shellandria. I had never been this far to the east of the kingdom. I’d seen pictures of this bridge. Renowned for its beauty I sent a grateful prayer to the Gods that somehow it had been left untouched. The bridge that arched over the rushing water had five parts. There were four points like an X that anchored the bridge to the earth. Two points of the bridge were in Vyterra, and the other two were in Shellandria. All the points met in a circular middle ground. A pathway large enough for a horse and cart, while a statue was erect in the middle. It depicted two soldiers, one Vyterran, one Shellandrian. Their kingdom crest clearly shown on the front of both of their shields that they held close to their chests. Swords were raised towards the sky crossing one another where they met at the ends. This statue was made – I had learned – when the Great War ended and peace was claiming all the kingdoms of Vaashaa. It was meant to represent the unity of the only two kingdoms that shared a border against whatever threat may come their way. Ironic now, I thought, that we were on our way to meet those who shared half this continent to wage war on the kingdom that inhabited the other.

  Crossing the bridge from the south edge of the river in Vyterra to Shellandria’s northern facing bank we moved up the incline and made our way over and around the centre statue before walking onward and back down the opposite bridge. By the time we had moved off and found a relatively safe place to camp it was nightfall, but at least we were finally out of Vyterra.

  Like every other evening – well, except for one – we worked together setting up camp and settling in for the night. The last two nights saw us eating nothing but dried berries, nuts and stale bread. Being out of the forest there were no feasible options for food and we had set up camp too far from the river to use its resources.

  Sleep came quick and easy that night. Conversation amongst our group was non-existent. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable nor unwanted – but the time was moving closer to the impending war and we all felt it, the burden that it brought with it. The death and destruction. There was no running from it.

  Waking in the morning, my eyes felt dry and tired. Peeling them open was an effort. Between my first and second blinks I was on my feet. The lingering lethargy that fogged my mind evaporated as I saw a man looking over me – his figure a silhouette against the rising sun dressed from head to toe in armour.

  A unit of armed soldiers had formed around our group – the rest of them still sleeping and completely unaware of our visitors. But as my vision was cleared of the blurriness that sleep left behind a smile spread across my face.

  “You took your Gods damn time, Prince.” Issac, the second son of the King and Queen of Shellandria said with a smirk of his own.

  Twenty Three

  Silas

  It had been too many years since I’d seen Issac.

  Usually stationed in Sef and in charge of the soldiers in his parent’s army, I had not seen him since we were boys.

  The last time I saw him in a uniform of the Shellandrian Guard it had hung lopsided and the two of us could have fit into it.

  Now, he wore it well. The sliver plating of his uniform, bright and bold, complimented his dark skin. Layered like glittering scales, it reached all the way from his middle knuckle and painted his en
tire body. The outfit was streamline and seamless to his figure. The crest of his kingdom differed to the statue at the river crossing in that it was not on his shield but rather his breast plate that followed the contours of his shape. His eyes were a bright hazel framed with thick brows and lashes, their shape made more intense by the strong lines of his face and his straight nose.

  I could see an essence in his features of the boy I had known, but the only true constant was his long, straight black hair that hung past his shoulders and down his back. The rest of him had certainly changed with time.

  The remainder of our company woke up, startled at first but when they came to know who our guests were, there was a notable sense of relief that spread amongst our group.

  “You look exactly like your mother, Your Majesty.” Issac said to Terra by way of greeting. “She was a queen unmatched. I am very sorry for your loss.” Moving his fist up over his heart he bowed deeply. Terra approached him, walking towards him with purpose and grace. Touching him gently on the shoulder of his armour, he stood up. About as tall as I was, he towered over her frame, but she didn’t look small or meek. She looked strong. Terraleise reached up to take his clenched fist in her hands.

  “Thank you, Issac. Thank you for fighting with us.” Her voice was not small or unsure, but rather full of gratitude and direction. A face for the cause we had banded together for, one of many, of course, but one that served also as a reminder of what we had lost.

  Terra continued on introducing Issac to Jude and Asher. Jude first, as the General of the Lygot Army and Asher as his right-hand man. She then turned her attention to her band of soldiers; Simeera, Cassidy, Bre and Yana. All who were welcomed graciously by the Prince of Shellandria.

  Issac had led the way to the camp that they had set up halfway between the river crossing and Sef. In case there was an attack they hadn’t wanted to endanger the city. Its outline could be made out if you squinted into the distance.

  We had arrived at the base camp for the Shellandrian army by midday. Row after row of tents had been erected. An area to the east that had been blocked off into sparring rings where soldiers took turns battling one another. This camp was running at full speed. People were moving everywhere with purpose, not a single person was sitting doing nothing.

  Shellandria had certainly not taken our silence as failure, but rather used the time to gather their strength further. Watching the training from afar it was clear the Shellandrians were lethal in their skills.

  It was only Issac and his company of guards that came to retrieve us who donned the battle armour. The rest of the soldiers were dressed in a simple black uniform that looked to be made much the same as Terra’s. A thick canvas-like material with lots of pockets, the Shellandrian crest on the front over the heart. As we made our way through the camp we wasted no time in speaking with Issac about the developments. Now that we had arrived there was no time for rest, we would need to set off in no more than a few days.

  Jude and Simeera remained with Terraleise and I while the others disbanded to claim tents of their own. The four of us followed Issac into what was clearly his war tent, the largest of them all.

  Sitting across from him, a worn wooden table between us with a map of Vaashaa laid on it, Terraleise and I looked at one another before we started from the beginning, telling him everything.

  Issac took every bit of information as well as we had thought we would.

  His calculated expression remained throughout the entire explanation, only faltering when Terra had explained what had happened in Altrey, what had happened to her more specifically and how she put the pieces together on what Cander was doing. Having it confirmed by Dee and also by my father.

  The threat against Vaashaa, Black Magic, and what it meant to the fate of the world. Our theory regarding Montreese and the pained confirmation from Terra’s encounter in the woods. The soldiers they had fought against and the certainty of where they had hailed from.

  The damage that stealing the natural magic of Vaashaa would do, what it has already done, and then how it was possible for her to provide sustenance for the natural magic of the world in order for it to take back what had been stolen from it.

  Issac’s face moved into understanding while ours moved into confusion.

  “There was a unit of Vyterran soldiers that stormed Venta, the city was empty already of its people, I am not sure where they are but the soldiers that moved through destroyed the city, burning through it. I suppose I hadn’t realised until now that the fire they burned it with was not made with sticks and flint.” He looked thoughtful once more before going on.

  “It was seven days ago, eight maybe. We had marched two legions south and over The Bridge to drive them from the forest, determined to capture as many as possible. With so long without hearing from you we had not lost hope but, we had grown worried. We thought it was the quickest and easiest way for us to learn more about your fate or what was going on as to not be taken off guard. When we got to the edge of the city we had intended on storming the forest but it began to shake and tremble. We held our ground and as the Vyterran soldiers began to charge at us the earth just…it just dragged them under. And then it was over. There was nothing left.”

  Terra looked at me and then back to Issac. Her swallow was audible but it was clear we were out of options. She came and stood behind me, Jude and Simeera moving to stand behind her. She placed her hand on my shoulder, more as a support for herself than any comfort for me.

  “I suppose this is as good a time as any to tell you.”

  Issac looked up expectantly.

  “I am the Heir of Vaashaa.”

  Twenty Four

  For the next two days we worked with Issac going over every detail that we knew. The Black Magic, the armada sailing north to Move, and Dee and her quest to seek out the Rouella. To show them their trip was not for nothing.

  The matter of my new title was brought up on a couple of occasions, when what I was capable of doing as the Heir of Vaashaa was shared with a larger group of very important people. Issac had brought in his general, and a couple more high-ranking soldiers, while I insisted the entirety of the company we had travelled with to the camp be present. There was not a member of our group that didn’t have something to add, something of value to fill in with certainty when blind spots we weren’t aware we had, surfaced.

  Silas and I had decided not to say anything yet about being one of the soulbound. We did this for two reasons. One, even though we were amongst our friends, our allies – we trusted absolutely no one. It was too much, too big of a risk to take to let that information slip. To know that to kill us both you merely needed to kill only one, indeed it was far too much information. And the second reason was that, though the power we could summon together was great, it was still unchartered, unknown to us in its entirety. There was a chance that it wouldn’t be enough to end the war before it began, and it would be a fault to put the knowledge of that power into the minds of our soldiers and allow them to believe it was a crutch. Not only that, but to use it would deplete Silas and my magic reserves completely. Not ideal as two of the only royals that would be on the front lines. Every single one of us was going to put our lives on the line, we needed to all believe we were the be all and end all. Distractions of a greater power that potentially existed could cause damage on the battlefield, take away the focus that could be the difference between the life or death of a soldier in our legions. So, we kept that kernel of information and tucked it away. If the time came, if we knew there were no other options we would serve Cander and his army what they deserved. It was possible though, almost entirely possible to win this war without it.

  We trained all day and spent many hours into the night going over and over our plans. Black Magic, what it was, how it was obtained and how to stop those who possessed it. The matter of the Rouella, a lot of our plans revolved around their arrival. On Dee’s success in bringing them to us and if that failed we had a plan B and a plan C, both dwindling
in their chances of success. Plan C would be where Silas and I would step in, though the rest of our company didn’t know that. If there was no other choice we would do it. Whatever it took.

  Plan A and plan B both included my ability as the Heir of Vaashaa. To fight and simultaneously support the magic of the world to drag the soldiers down beneath its surface, to its core where the natural magic of the world would be able to take back what was stolen by Black Magic. There was no mistaking the fear in my stomach for anything other than what it was.

  The night before we set off on our march south, along The Altrey Ranges and towards the outskirts of the city where we would come face to face with Cander and his army, the camp had all but stopped. There was no fast-paced walking from point A to point B. There was no sparring, no hustle into the early hours of the morning. It was quiet, and peaceful. One of the last nights we might have like that and so we all soaked it up.

  A tent for Silas and I had been set up towards the back of the camp and away from the main bulk of the army. I was grateful for the small piece of privacy we were offered. The last few nights had been met with exhaustion where we fell into bed wrapped in each other’s arms with our boots still on. Tonight though, we had time.