A Kingdom Scorched

by Linn Tesli

  “I’m no queen,” Sol said. “However, I will do everything in my power to convince Georganna to take action.”

  “And if she does not listen?” Nimry asked, pushing himself in front of Ragnar.

  “Then we have to find a way to make her listen,” Sol replied. Her words sounded more infuriated than she had intended. If Georganna still refused to take their pleas seriously, there was only one way she could uphold her promise. They would have to make Georganna step down, by force if necessary. It was a path Sol didn’t want to take.

  Ragnar was still looking at Sol as the meeting came to an end. The spark in his eye was gone. Sol could not decipher his thoughts, though he seemed less than pleased. They would have to talk more privately about his plans for the Earthlings. Sol did have an obligation to all those who lived in Sonûdor. She was an Earthling first, though, and the thought of uniting with her kin, free from the chains of being an Elemental’s sister, made her eager. Sol would certainly want to hear more about the easterner’s proposal. If nothing else, she found she wanted to meet with Ragnar in a more private setting. He had festered in her bones, and there had to be more to that Earthling than met the eye.

  Sol shook herself, returning her mind from the land of memories. She had thought she had been wrong to do what she did, but perhaps it was the right thing all along, no matter how cruel the outcome. She ran across the Eye and started attacking the stairs with quick strides, climbing one floor after another. She flew past the baker as he closed the doors for the day, then flung herself onto a rope and heaved herself upward towards the Chasm’s mouth.

  The griffins that had rested where Sol now entered the mountaintop made way for her as she walked south. Other griffins leaped off the mountain to circle out above Sonûdor. Sol barely registered Ondox’s arched back as she continued walking until she had reached the end of the two gushing rivers that eventually fed the Mourning Ocean.

  ”Sveva,” she called, allowing the wind to carry her onto a high rock where the water joined into a waterfall. She raised both arms above her head. The power inside rushed through every part of her being, filling her up like a roaring river. Her fingers fanned out, and she recited the ancient words that had been left dormant for more than two centuries.

  ”Stormen, ith kallà dej. Yèa, vakna nuh.” The wind picked up, and the water rose higher, large droplets spraying out on both sides of the mountain range. Dark clouds swept across the sky, and lightning bolts shot down at the ocean as Sol felt her powers return with force. Her hair clung to her neck and shoulders as she became drenched in the pelting rain that followed. People ought to start calling her by her right title from now on. She was, and had always been, a witch. Birken was dead, and so her obligation as a guardian to Georganna’s bloodline was fulfilled. At least until Birken’s son returned to Bermunnos—and her. For more than two hundred years, she had been paying her penance for leading her sister to the pyre. It was the right thing then, and it was undoubtedly the right thing now. She should never have turned her back on that which had made her who she was.

  As the rain kept teeming down on her, Sol devised her plan. She could not attack Êvina on her own. She had to be clever about it. She needed someone who wanted to see the Elementals destroyed, someone with a lot of men and fighting skills. It came to her like the wind had bellowed it in her ear. It would be a dangerous path to follow, but she was confident she could make an agreeable offer. It would be a powerful alliance. They would hardly be inclined to shake hands at first, though they would have to listen. It would be as beneficial to them as it was to Bermunnos.

  Sol whistled, and a young griffin flew toward her.

  “You called?” the griffin Ynza asked.

  “I need you to fly me someplace. It will only be for a few days. Would that be acceptable?”

  The griffin landed on the mountainside. “It would.” Her golden feathers shone in the light of the lightning bolts hammering down across the surface of the ocean.

  “Good.” Sol gathered her feet and leaped into the air, only to land softly on the griffin’s back as she swept out to catch her.

  “Where to?” she asked.

  “North, then east.”

  Ynza’s motions slowed for a heartbeat, then she sped up. There wasn’t much north-east of Bermunnos, and the griffin likely had her reservations. Still, she didn’t mention any.

  Sol laughed, her voice carrying out above the roaring ocean before the griffin soared back over the mountain range. Everine would not survive her fury, and Birken’s pup would eventually come home to grow up with his real family. All Sol had to do was align herself with someone who wanted power more than anything.

  10

  ENEMIES ALIGN

  - Zarcos -

  Zarcos leaned forward in his high-backed chair. The sandstone walls had never felt as oppressive and, somehow, his home in Cergentos had become foreign to him since his recent return. An unknown amount of unicorns’ horns had been mounted in circles onto the square pillars in the hall, making them look like sparkling spikes of stone. It had always amused him in the past. However, now it bothered him, though he had no idea why. He rubbed his neck, massaging the knots gathering to cause his ever-present headache. Something had been gnawing on his mind for a while, and he could not shake the unease he had begun to feel. He grabbed a jug of ale and filled the silver goblet beside it to the brim, then washed his throat with the contents and refilled the goblet again.

  The wide metal doors squeaked as they were pushed open. Zarcos covered his ears as his body revulsed at the sound. He needed to have someone grease those hinges.

  Barbos strode forward and bowed low in front of his captain.

  “Stand,” Zarcos commanded.

  The lieutenant straightened, clearing his throat. ”There’s, well, there is an Earthling beyond the walls who has asked for an audience. She says she wants to put old quarrels to rest, and that she has some deal to offer you.”

  Zarcos’s eyes widened. It had been more than a millennium since the Silverlings had collaborated on anything with the Earthlings. Next to the Elementals, the Earthlings were on top of Zarcos’s list for those he wanted to see gone from Aradria. However, he might be inclined to forge an alliance, even with an Earthling, if it helped achieve his goals. It was merely practical. But what in Aradria could an Earthling be doing at his doorstep? It seemed like a foolish thing to do, even for an Earthling.

  ”Who is this Earthling, exactly?” he asked.

  ”She calls herself Sol, a witch, she says. She’s the only remaining council member since the recent battle, and she says she speaks for all of them.”

  Interesting, Zarcos mused. Also, she was alone. There would be no harm in allowing her to meet with him. If he was unsatisfied by what she had to offer, he would be happy to throw her into the Khâlara ocean, no doubt leaving her skewered on the stone spikes jutting out from the steep mountainside along with the rest of the body count. She would likely not even reach the ocean. Witch or not, she was on his land now.

  ”I will allow it,” he said. ”Bring the Earthling to me.”

  The Silverling left, only to return with the Earthling witch a while later.

  She looked nothing like those vain, meticulous Earthlings he was accustomed to. No flashy yet sparse armor anywhere in sight, though golden hoops adorned her arms and legs. Her yellow hair was tousled, thick and moist where it curled its way down to her waist. Her skin was full of dirt, and her shape was a lot fuller than that of any Silverling. Yet there was something in her bronze-colored eyes, a spark of some sort. Zarcos was intrigued.

  ”You show an awful lot of courage to come here on your own. More like foolishness, come to think of it.”

  Sol squared her shoulders. ”I have an offer, and you will not refuse it.” The grime on her face did nothing to hide her pride as she set her gaze on him.

  ”Are you giving me Bermunnos?” He chuckled.

  ”Bermunnos is off the table.”

  ”Then I don’t b
elieve there’s anything more for us to discuss. How would you like to take a closer look at Khâlara?” Zarcos licked his chapped lips. The thought of watching her crash against the slippery spikes of stone rising from the surface of the ocean to the north made him cheerful.

  ”You want power,” Sol said, angling closer. ”I’m here to offer it to you.”

  ”Get on with it then.”

  ”You need to prepare for what is coming. The Elementals now hold the center of Aradria, and in not long they will attack Lycobris. When they succeed, where do you think they will go next?”

  ”Even if they hold Lycobris, there’s no way they will ever take Caradrea. It belongs to me, and my army is nothing like the Vaexennas.”

  ”Yet your army was defeated in the Battle of Ancient Creatures. Your forces are weakened. Caradrea, along with Cergentos, will be overturned if you do nothing.”

  The air vibrated in the sudden silence between the two of them as they studied one another. Somewhere inside, Zarcos knew she was right. The Elementals would only grow in power, and eventually, they would attack. He did need a plan, though he wasn’t sure if the Earthlings should have anything to do with whatever plan he could devise. His forces were weakened, and here was someone willing to provide him with additional men. No matter how he felt about the Earthlings, he also knew that the Ahddamssons were some of the best trained in combat anywhere in Aradria, besides his kin. It would strengthen his people to accept Sol’s offer.

  The witch took another step forward, closing the gap between her and the seat of Zarcos’s throne. She angled her head forward, her eyes still set on his. ”I will help you take Lycobris for your own. With both Caradrea and Lycobris in your grasp, you will become untouchable. My army of Ahddamssons and griffins will fight with you, and we will prevail. Dragon, or no dragon! I only have one small favor to ask of you in return, which we can discuss later.”

  ”Dragon? There have been rumors...” So it was true. A strange sensation of excitement surged through him. The news of a dragon should be cause for concern, and all he felt was something unfamiliar to him. Was this joy?

  ”There’s no doubt that the winged creatures have returned. Though I’m not so sure they will fight, and Fyrax has only been asleep. He’s likely as crazed as he once was, which means he will be more of a liability to the Elementals than anything else unless they find a way to control him. His allegiance after the old Elementals once betrayed him will be easy to shift. All you need to do is convince him.”

  Zarcos wasn’t sure what the witch was talking about. Something told him it was the truth. Convincing a dragon to choose a side was a task not easily managed by either of them, however. Also, it meant facing the dragon. Not something Zarcos was inclined to do.

  Fyrax will listen.

  Zarcos shook his head at the sudden thought—or was it a whisper—sifting through his mind.

  The witch is right. Go to Lycobris.

  Zarcos blinked. His mind had been playing tricks with him over the past few weeks. It was probably exhaustion, though he could not help but listen to the voice in his head.

  ”Very well,” Zarcos said. “I will hear this plan of yours, witch, and I will decide if the favor you ask is worth what you’re offering. Be warned, however, that if you cross me, I will have your head.”

  ”The name is Sol.” The witch clasped her hands behind her back. ”That is a lovely necklace,” she said, her eyes twinkling.

  ”What do you know of it?”

  ”I have seen it before.” Sol smiled disconcertingly, as if she held a secret that she was not about to share with Zarcos. Whatever it was, Zarcos had no time to discuss trinkets. They needed a plan of attack, and fast. If the dragon were awake, the so-called Prince of Fire would surely seek him out, and Zarcos would have to deal with the dragon before then. Whatever this witch wanted in return was likely worth it.

  ”You may stay in the south tower for now. We will discuss tactics in the morning, then leave for Lycobris as soon as we have a plan in place.”

  Zarcos glanced at Barbos, who had stood immobile by one of the far pillars during the entire conversation. The lieutenant’s purple lips were tight on his face. He wasn’t happy about the turn of events, judging by the frown he had acquired.

  Sol grinned. ”Looking forward to it.” She turned on her heels to walk out.

  Zarcos snapped his fingers at a guard standing by the door.

  ”You, make sure she’s accommodated, bolt the doors, and keep an eye on her at all times. We don’t trust her,” he wheezed.

  The guard nodded and followed after the witch.

  Zarcos folded his hands around his throbbing head. They would take Lycobris, but first, he had to befriend an insane creature of fire. He had to be insane himself to think it was even possible.

  He will listen, the voice continued.

  ”He will listen,” Zarcos mumbled to himself. Perhaps he was, in fact, going mad.

  Barbos coughed. “My Liege, what do you wish us to do? Do you intend to do as the witch says? She’s an Earthling, our enemy. We should be in Cergentos for the captain’s Khal-Odono Erneshos. It’s been postponed long enough, and our people need to see that we are still keeping the tradition. It will cement your position, too.”

  ”I’m captain,” Zarcos bellowed.

  ”Of course. I simply mean to remind you that our people need to see that we are still strong.”

  There was always a captain’s funeral in Cergentos when one had died in glorious battle, but Zarcos had no desire to watch the glorification of his previous commander in chief. The Khal-Odono signified the belief that having died in a particular manner made the individual superior to death. To be killed in furious battle was an honor bestowed on those with might. Had Creos fought better, he would not be dead by Zarcos’s hand. Yet he was, and Creos had not beaten death any more than the rest of the dead bastards left behind on the cobbled streets of Êvina.

  Zarcos had made Barbos his second in command. The Silverling was loyal to a fault and was one of the best swordsmen Zarcos had ever seen, but the two of them didn’t see everything eye to eye. Barbos wanted the Silverlings to hold Caradrea, to build an army and close the borders. Zarcos had wanted that too, yet something in him was drawn toward a different plan. His head throbbed with an unknown desire. He now wanted all of Aradria. Caradrea wasn’t strong enough to withstand an attack if it was to come from every corner of their borders.

  “Lycobris,” Zarcos wheezed as though he had not come to terms with his decision. “Caradrea is already ours. With Lycobris under our thumb, the rest of Aradria will crumble to its knees before me.”

  Barbos cleared his throat. “What of the dragon?”

  The dragon was certainly a challenge. Zarcos closed his eyes, flaring his nostrils. A warm sensation built in his chest, expanding through him. He had never felt this kind of bodily heat before he acquired the Nhèoryn. It was exhilarating. His hand clutched the pendant around his neck as cruel whispers snaked through his mind.

  The dragon will bow to us. He is fire born, as am I. And he will recognize us. We will be allies, and the dragon will set all of Aradria ablaze if we so wish it.

  Zarcos shook himself. “I will handle the dragon.”

  Barbos opened his mouth to speak as Zarcos slammed his fist on the oaken table, sending candlesticks and mugs crashing to the floor.

  “Don’t test me, Barbos. It will be as I have said.”

  11

  DEATH OF A QUEEN

  A band of thirty unicorns with twenty-nine Silverling riders was already saddled and ready for departure as the first rays of dawn climbed over the walls of Cergentos. Sol angled her head back at the guards escorting her. Their swords were unsheathed, their eyes glued to her like the hawks circling the Silverling fortress of stone.

  ”This one is yours.” Barbos presented her with a silver unicorn. ”Everyone is waiting for you.”

  ”You’re staying?” Sol asked.

  Barbos contracted his lips and hand
ed her the reins, then turned away from the group and headed into the city along with her guards. Not much of a talker, Sol gathered.

  ”Witch,” Zarcos called. ”Keep up. We’re headed out.” The group started forward.

  Sol swung herself on the back of the silver mare, kicked her heels, and galloped after the Silverlings out of the enormous gates separating Cergentos from the vast plains outside. She patted the mare on her neck. The sawn-off horn gave Sol the shivers, but she stayed her voice on the matter. The Silverling tradition of cutting off the unicorns’ horns was gruesome, yet useful for domesticating them. A unicorn should be free to run as it pleased, however, and she pitied the creature.

  ”Lycobris next!” Zarcos roared.

  The band of thirty Silverlings kept a steady trot while Sol caught up with Zarcos at the front.

  ”We have yet to discuss my end of the deal,” she said. ”Why the rush to leave so soon?”

  Zarcos raised his chin at the wind. ”The dragon waits for no one. You can send word for your army when we’re ready. I don’t need a horde of Ahddamssons in Lycobris yet.”

  ”What’s the plan then?”

  ”We take… everything,” Zarcos wheezed with a maddened look on his face.

  Sol wanted them to complete their deal, though there would be time to discuss how he would help her get Birken’s pup. He would have to listen if he wanted the Ahddamssons on his side. It seemed that, once again, she was headed toward war. This time, however, she wasn’t scared. She had a debt to pay, no matter the cost. The half-breed boy was all that was left of her family, and the memory of her sister.

  The unicorns sped up, their hooves thundering across the open plains. The air filled with dust as the dunes began building around them, and Sol allowed her mind to drift.

  200 and some years earlier