by F. C. Reed
Amalia’s eyes widened, and she squinted into her palm again. It didn’t seem any different from any other day she looked at her hand. It didn’t seem any different from anyone else’s palm either. Well, not that she could readily see. She thought he might be lying until the gleaming red blade hinged at the spot where the red metal met the leather of the handle.
The blade folded over in sections, tucking itself somewhere inside the leather handle like a switchblade or a jackknife. The process took about a second, but was not so fast that she could not observe it. As the glaive transformed, a startled Amalia held out the handle like it was a poisonous snake. She was left holding essentially a bladeless, ornate piece of wood, bound in leather.
“And the imprint is complete. The blade will protect you, now that you share a history and a single thread binds both of you together in the aethersphere.” Steig pulled a fencing foil from a nearby table, took a step, and swung at her with a backhanded flick of his wrist.
Instinctively, Amalia raised her guard and backed up a step, and in that very instant, the red blade flipped out from the handle and unfolded near simultaneously, locked itself into place, and crashed into the fencing foil with a resonant clang. Amalia’s eyes went wide at the sight of it.
“You control the blade, but sometimes, mostly when you’re otherwise indisposed, it will seem to act on its own volition.”
“You could have told me first,” Amalia nodded, still stunned.
“I didn’t have to.”
“Like I said. The freaking tits,” sighed Amalia.
“Normally you’d need to have the runes forged along the blade to get the imprint solidified, but I don’t think that’s necessary, all things considered. And finally, the question is answered why I was tasked with creating it.” Steig nodded at the door as a signal that she could leave. “And don’t forget to give her a name. Something solid. A name that is as beautiful and as deadly as it is.”
Chapter Thirty-Six
Gates made of pure silver surrounded the courtyard at the Reach. Some rumor that guards were ever present to maintain a watchful eye over the silver gates, keeping a desperate local at bay of the temptation to take out a chunk for themselves. Though myths and legends adorn the Reach at every level, the one about the gates was partially true.
A study garden lay far to a secluded corner of the courtyard, away from the view of passersby. It contained plants and flowers chosen by the current primus to represent his own personality. This majestic garden contained multicolored roses and sweet carnations arranged around a small viewing pond. Short, bone white hedges with bunches of deep crimson berries ran the path that crossed through the secluded garden.
A stone bench perched itself beneath a tree bearing purple fruits in the middle of a soft, neat pallet of red fern. The special fern also turned a dark blue-green in the winter. It gripped the ground tightly and twisted along the edges of the sidewalk, covering the legs of the stone bench and the base of the tree, its own leaves hanging from the red ropes of vine like tiny umbrellas.
The meticulous task of keeping up the special garden belonged to the herbalists. It was their sole purpose and considered an astute honor. They took their jobs so seriously that one may wander by to see a group of them on hands and knees in their white robes, pruning the ferns and grasses with a pair of scissors.
The study garden became an integral part of the courtship between Thanial and Amalia. They met at the garden often, usually when they wanted to be alone and in one another’s company. No one would disturb them there, for which they were very thankful. Without their knowledge, the primus gave his staff orders that they were not to be disturbed.
The sunlight reflected from the surface of the pond, dividing its powerful beam into intricate, playful colors. Departed seeds of dandelions danced across the air, rising and falling like fluffy, white insects playing in the winds. A pair of old marble statues stood near the secluded pond where only trickles of light could pierce the forest overhang.
They spent long moments in silence and observation. They rediscovered themselves through one another every time they came together. As lovely as it might have been, there was something wrong. She felt it. She saw it in Thanial’s furrowed brow.
Amalia played in the soft brown locks of his hair, unaware of what bothered him so much. She gently guided his head into her lap, and he looked to the sky through the trees, his eyes darting from one beam of sunlight to another as he quietly sighed.
“Thanial?” Amalia had positioned her face directly in his line of sight, and still he did not notice.
She brushed the hair from his cheeks and caressed his forehead. Only the soft connection of her touch drew his attention.
“I thought we should do something. Like, you know, together,” he said.
“Should we?” Amalia eyed him with a suspicious, but playful grin. Thanial hazarded a touch on her arm.
“Please don’t look at me like that. As much time as we’ve spent together, or as little, depending on one’s perspective, you should know by now that I have no pervy motives,” Thanial said. “Is that how you say it?”
Amalia nodded. “I know. It’s just that I’m too busy. It seems like I don’t have time to get away from all this,” she gestured with a wave of her hand. “I told Dr. Shay I’d be by for feeling ill so I could skip out on training and spend the time with you.”
“And you would defy Marchand Gadot to spend an afternoon date with me? What courage you possess, red lioness,” Thanial said.
Amalia raised her eyebrows. “So we’re dating now? I don’t remember you asking me.”
Thanial lowered his head. “The fluttercard. I sent it to you via Sarina.”
Amalia laughed. “Oh, the incredibly beautiful thingama-bug that kinda looks like a dragonfly? That was you asking me out?”
“It’s called a chainmetal fairy, commonly used for this purpose. Did you like it?”
“I did. It was thoughtful. And different. Though where I’m from, you just ask the girl out with some charmingly cheesy pickup line.”
“So you’ve done this courtship thing before?”
Amalia jumped to correct him. “Oh, no,” she blurted. “Well, it depends on what this is.” She waived her hand in a dismissive gesture, hoping she didn’t give him the impression that she was an easy target. She couldn’t help but wish that guys were falling over themselves to date her. Reality was far, far from that, however.
“I’m surprised, given your overall qualities: physical, mental, and emotional. Eligible suitors should be all too eager to spend quality time with you.”
Amalia felt herself blushing. “That’s nice of you to say, I think,” she replied, fighting with the awkwardness that seemed to hang in the air between them.
Thanial frowned as if in thought, then brightened. “What I meant to say is that I am, um—
Oh, holy hell. He’s staring right at me. Wish I had the guts to tell him to just shut up and kiss me already, but his foot is about to be in his mouth.
And as if on cue and to her surprise, Thanial leaned forward. She did the same.
Their lips pressed together, softly at first, but developed into a series of subtle, probing pecks, each one having longer contact than the one before it. She pulled away, and he matched her movements, pushing into her to maintain the physical and emotional connection they were still trying to figure out. She could feel his lips stretch into a smile and decided he was enjoying the moment as much as she was.
Amalia couldn’t stop kissing him once they started. It was a kiss that marked the beginning of a universe full of possibilities for them. Not ready for their breakthrough to end, she instinctively put a hand up to his face to caress his cheek, hoping to persuade him to continue with their kiss. A moment later, Thanial backed away with an enormous grin on his face, breaking the spell.
“Well,” he said, taking Amalia’s hands into his own. “I figured it was about time I did that.”
“Me too,” Amalia said. Her
cheeks and face were abuzz with the aftereffects of their contact. His puffy lips, as Sarina would say, and perfect smile were irresistible. Amalia couldn’t think of a time ever in her life when she was more distracted, interested, or captivated by anyone. It was like an indescribable connection that bloomed from nowhere. She didn’t have to think about her response to his statements like she did with other guys.
So she resigned herself to the fact that, somewhere in the back of her mind, and the top, bottom, and both sides of her mind as well, she wanted that kiss to happen. She wanted them to happen. Thanial still seemed like a lot for her to take in over the past several weeks, and she finally began to make sense of him. More importantly, she began to make sense of herself with him.
Thanial stirred, not wanting to disrupt their contact. “There’s an old poem that goes: Our lives are so incomplete as young men and women. They mean almost nothing to us at first, and our worth is only known by the ones who have brought us to life. However, sudden bliss is often achieved at some great cost, and designed to be discovered at a much later time. Found only to be lost, and the blind again seeks sight. Therefore, ad infinitum.”
“That’s deep,” Amalia said, shaking her head. “And not very romantic. Achieved at some great cost? And here I was just starting to like you.” She eyed him for a moment. “So basically, it says our lives have meaning in the presence of the right person.”
“Absolutely,” he replied. “We’re drawn to one another. And I know you can feel what I’m feeling. That overwhelming connection. Ever since that day we fought. Well, that day you cut me in half. Such a powerful pull to you. I could barely stay away.”
“I can feel it too. Like you are the missing something I have been looking for all of my life.” Amalia settled back onto his chest, intent and content to stay there while the universe swirled in her mind. “Ad infinitum, huh? You better not tell me it’s Verellen for something, because I know what that means in Latin.”
Thanial laughed. “It seemed to fit.”
“Well, you sure know how to commit,” Amalia said. “Consider me thoroughly impressed, but believe me when I say you will get the fist, if in a sudden onset of douchebaggery you flit off to that other girl.” Her eyes portrayed the seriousness of her words as she spoke them. Her voice grew harder when she said, “You know who I’m talking about.”
Thanial smiled away her glance and squeezed her closer. “I won’t ever have to or want to or need to.” He paused for a moment. “What’s douchebaggery?”
Amalia quietly shushed him.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
The Legion approached in force from the north toward the outermost sentry at Lybane according to available intelligence. Bastille’s presence was also confirmed. The gates at the neighboring Koroval sentry post ramped up its fortifications, and the entire post manned to capacity. If the Legion wanted to pass through, it could only be through those two sentry posts.
Both sentry post gates loomed over the chasm, their walls bristling with armaments. The Legion would come at the gate, given that the gate itself was the weakest point of the entire sentry line. That is, if the Legion got past the Bloodguard, which was not likely.
No sooner than General Strann reached the command chamber, there came a rumbling blare of alarm horns. The low howl reverberated and echoed as it tunneled its way through the gate chamber halls, followed by the hearty cadence of deep drums meant to bring the guard to full alert. Voices yelled out in the distance and into the organized chaos to employ a warning of the impending battle.
The blood in General Strann’s veins iced over like molten steel flowing down a blacksmith’s channels. Her thoughts collapsed, and she readied herself for the inevitable. She pulled in a breath of air, sooty and smoke filled as it was, and grinned at the irony. This was what she was born and bred to do. This was what she loved. This was what she would lose soon.
Barreling down toward the war room, she dodged and squeezed past the guardsmen under her command, as they also dashed back and forth, only stopping to snap to attention at the general’s presence. Some manned the cannons, which would soon spit balls of fiery iron at the advancing threat.
Others manned the infirmaries, which would soon fill with the dead, dying, and wounded. Still others grabbed their weapons and headed for the massive lifts that took them to ground level. Some would emerge heroes. Some would be forged in the fire of battle for the very first time. Some would see the last of their lives.
On the ground, men and women alike made preparations, suited up, and fell into their ranks. They hurried themselves into place and reported their readiness.
The war room was abuzz with activity. General Strann strode to the center of the crowded space as Captain Ursin joined her. The room was mostly bare save for a large wooden table, covered in runes. At her touch, the field of battle that would soon be, came to light before them. It showed rows and squares of tiny blue dots which corresponded to the guard as they fell into ranks at the base of the gate fortification walls. The gates themselves shone green on the holographic map, intact for the moment.
“How far off?” General Strann asked as she allowed a lower guardsman to attach the red shoulder cloak bearing the seal of the guardian and protector of Therios Kaval. She looked over the table, assessing the strength and placement of the guard.
Captain Ursin replied, “The scouts report they are passing through the Valley of the Frozen Sands as we speak.”
“That doesn’t give us much time. We should see the first of them here.” She poked a finger at a set of hills to the northeast.
“It is possible we may see them sooner, especially if they send in fire ravens,” Captain Ursin reminded.
General Strann knelt to check the leg braces covering her shins as another lower guardsman brought her swordarm to her side: a massive double-handed sword crafted from the finest of bloodsteel. Its reddish hue and intricate runes glowed faintly, even in the light of day. The four foot long wideblade sword seemed effortlessly wielded by the six foot tall general. Captain Ursin used to think her foolish not to have or make use of a shield, but over time she had proved quite vividly that she does not need one.
“Artillery?” she said as she continued her careful glance over the battlefield.
“Full batteries, all at station,” Ursin said.
“TacNav?” General Strann asked.
Admiral Voss spoke in response. “The tactical naval fleet’s battlegroup delta is on station. The APNS Warforged has been designated flagship. The seas are clear to the horizon, and my boys’ll keep it that way. We’ll be providing anti-air from the west and dropping an ass-ton of lead into their flanks.”
“What about… her?”
Captain Ursin grinned. “The sky marshal should be on her way.”
“Actually, I’m right behind you.” The sky marshal took up a place next to the command center table, eyeing the commander general with contempt. “That didn’t seem very professional, General. And where is your replacement? The girl? She should stake her claim to the rank of commander general in a show and prove, don’t you think?” The sky marshal’s comments dripped with sarcasm like poison off the keen edge of a dagger.
“The Crimson Bloodguard?” General Strann asked, ignoring the comment.
“Forming ranks. Six hundred eighty-eight on station. The rest are en route,” Ursin said.
“Bring the reserve to bear. If the intelligence reports are right, then this will be a massive battle and we’ll need every soldier we have,” General Strann said.
Captain Ursin nodded. “I will outfit the secondary as reserve until then.”
General Strann moved to another point at the table and leaned in. “What about the acolytes and the blademagi?”
“The acolyte major has yet to report, but the hexmage contingency received orders to refrain from the use of tek magica fire and heat. It turned the sand to glass at our last encounter.”
“Well planned,” General Strann noted. “And the valkyr.”
She breathed the words, trying diligently to mask her irritation at even their mention.
“You hesitate when you call for me and my forces?” Sky Marshal Sesanji said. “Don’t worry, General. We will do our jobs, which is a claim I cannot guarantee for everyone here. And for those who are not here, I will take note of it.”
“So be it,” General Strann managed through a slightly clenched jaw. “Man your positions and wait for my advance.”
The other commanders and senior staff scattered about, now with a purpose.
General Strann stopped her captain by putting a hand on his shoulder. “Where is Viragosa, captain?”
Captain Ursin swallowed. “Your khydrid is still being cared for, and should be allowed to recover to her full strength.”
General Strann turned for a brief second and pierced her captain with the famously icy gaze she was so well known to flash. “I need Viragosa.” The statement escaped her lips in a growl. She made her way out of the war room as she waited for his retort. They hurried towards the stop lift to the ground level.
“I am sure you do, General. But Viragosa’s second right leg remains broken and it would be unwise—
“I don’t need a lecture on how to care for my khydrid,” she said over her shoulder, still unnerved about not having the sturdy strength of her six-legged horse-like beast to ride into battle with. She would have to make do with a replacement. Again. A minor setback, but one which irritated her to no end.
“My apologies, general. You know well the situation.” They boarded and rode the stop lift to the ground level.
“No, accept my apology, captain,” she sighed, placing a hand on his shoulder. “You are only advising me. And over the years I have learned that a fool is made of the one who does not listen.”
General Strann’s presence at the forefront of the formation lifted the spirits of the guard and fortified their will to battle. With their formations complete - exactly one thousand Crimson Bloodguard - they prepared the short march to the Danover Chasm. A vast valley carved into the surface of the earth, Danover Chasm was an ever-present reminder of a battle as old as time itself between the Crimson Bloodguard’s aethermancer Kallan Sha’Gol and the Legion.
