No Man's Land

by C D Beaudin

  The throne room bears new meaning. No longer a royal court, Adriel, Eldowyn, Ethiah, and Babinoux are forced to their knees, held there by palace guards. Borez doesn’t sit on the throne, but instead stands, back straight as a soldier’s should be. He glares down at them, a condescending, new-age gaze of power and uprising.

  “We’ve watched you lead us. We’ve watched you fail. Spending all our money on the gate at the pass when we barely have any as it is.”

  “We built it, so you’ll be protected,” Adriel argues. She looks up at him. “So armies can’t attack our people.”

  “We aren’t your people. We’re Awyn’s people, and she might as well be dead. We won’t be led by Radian elves. We won’t fall as your people did. Mera will rise to greatness, and her people will survive this war if we unite. If we’re led by our people and follow them. You won’t force this war on us. Or force us to fight. We will vote. The people will choose if we send our warriors fighting a battle we won’t win.”

  “But you’ll die if you don’t fight! Give your people a chance to live. Just a chance.”

  But he doesn’t listen to her. “Were you going to give them a choice?”

  Adriel looks away, and Eldowyn speaks up. “We were going to protect them, and sometimes protecting people means putting them in harm’s way.”

  “That is killing them! Not protecting them. They are dying before your eyes and you still want to send them into battle.” He shakes his head. “What kind of leaders kill their people?”

  “The kind that know what will happen if nothing is done,” Eldowyn yells. “My people were killed. My kind nearly extinct. I realize you don’t want to take orders from an elf, but my sister and I know what we’re doing. We’ve seen what Revera can do firsthand.”

  “And so have we. When Awyn was in the dungeon she came around more often than you think. She taunted us, burned our food. She even devoured some of our souls. Our souls.” He shakes his head.

  “We know what she can do. And we won’t stand for it. But it’s the people’s decision to go to war or not. No monarch or regent will decide for us. We’ve lost too much to this war, and we refuse to lose anything else. Mera will live on if the people decide. And if they decide that she shall fall…then fall she shall.”

  “And you agreed to this?” Ethiah questions, voice dry.

  He looks at her, fire in his eyes. “I was the one who came up with the idea. When I fought in the battle outside the city walls, I decided to follow Awyn. I killed my own soldiers helping her. Then I saw her fall into the ground and knew that we were on our own. I wiped the Tanean paint off my face and I gathered my men. We’ve been planning this for months, we just needed the right moment. And when I learned you’d be going to Hillstone to delegate about the war, I saw an opportunity.”

  “You found out the plans for the battle.” Eldowyn shakes his head. “You had a backup plan as well as a chance to kill us.” His eyes narrow. “Why didn’t you?”

  “We don’t want to kill you. There’s been enough bloodshed. We want you to watch as we rebuild this country into something great.”

  “If the people decide it, you mean?” Adriel asks. “Because if they choose to go to war, then Mera may not be standing for too much longer, and this will have been fruitless.”

  Borez’s face is hard. “All what the people decide.”

  “You must see how flawed that plan is? Those people are desperate and hungry. They won’t make rational decisions. They need a leader right now. After the war is over, if we survive, then they can rise up.” Adriel shakes her head. “But not now.”

  “You don’t make the decisions anymore, elf!” Borez shouts. “Mera is a human nation, and it will be run by the humans that live within her borders, not elves who would see us die in battle.”

  “You’re already dying,” Babinoux argues. “And let me tell you, being cut down by a sword is a lot quicker than starving to death. The food supply in Mera is dwindling, and when it runs out, there will be no other kingdoms to trade with. The winter will carry on, and eventually, all the food will die. You will try to go to the western nations, beg for food, but you’ll die of weakness and hunger before you make it beyond Arneth.”

  The general tries to stand, but is shoved back down to the ground, and the crack of his kneecaps makes Adriel wince. Babinoux shouts out, the pain probably terrible, but he still raises his gaze to Borez. “You’re going to kill yourselves.”

  Borez looks away from him, gesturing to a guard at the door. Bringing over a large hammer, he gives it to Borez. The general looks at them, eyes hard.

  “You were my brother in arms, John. I’m sad you won’t be a part of our new order.” He turns and what happens next makes Adriel gasp. Eldowyn’s mouth slackens as Ethiah’s eyes widen, and Babinoux shouts out.

  Borez smashes the hammer into the throne. Over and over again, decimating it.

  With Awyn’s mind and throne destroyed, Daron’s legacy ends.

  Borez stands there, his back to them, breathing hard. Adriel knows he’s staring at what he’s done, but she also knows he feels no regret. But what he thinks next terrifies her. He turns, gripping the hammer. Murder written in his eyes.

  “Why keep you alive when all you’ll do is fight?” he asks, but not to them. Himself.

  Adriel’s eyes widen. “Please, don’t.”

  “You beg for your life? Is that honorable?”

  Adriel’s eyes well with tears. “I don’t care about honor. It’s not just my life anymore. Don’t kill my brother, Ethiah or John. But, please…” She shakes her head. “Please, don’t kill my child.” She closes her eyes. Even though the whole room stares at her, she cries silently but the tears flow hard.

  It feels so good to say it out loud. She’s known for two months. It’s easy to hide, she’s an elf, there’s no sickness or pain. She hasn’t gained any weight. But she’s been terrified to tell anyone. When she was at Hillstone, and they demanded she fight, she’d agreed. However, she’d fought them on it. But they wouldn’t relent.

  And that’s when she realized there may not be a world to raise her child in, even if she did fight. So why not take the chance? She dies and her child with her.

  But when Borez gazed at her, ready to kill them…

  She couldn’t let her baby die, even if it will be born into a world of war and chaos. She still couldn’t let her child die.

  Borez hesitantly drops the hammer, not taking his blank eyes off her. “Guards. Take them to the cells.”

  Adriel says a thank-you to the Spirits as they’re dragged away.

  In the darkness of her room, there are no candles lit, the drapes are closed. Awyn’s eyes have adjusted to the darkness. She sits on her bed quietly, just being. She doesn’t think. She just is. It’s rather peaceful, the first moment of waking peace she’s had in what now must be at least seven months.

  Lying back, she stares up at the ceiling of her canopy bed. The wood. Nothing special or dangerous about it. It’s just wood. Realizing she could stare at this wood forever makes her sit up. What has her life become? She finds comfort in timber.

  Standing, she walks toward the window, hesitating as she grips the drapes. She doesn’t remember the last time she opened a curtain in the middle of the day. She might have yesterday, or the day before. Awyn has no recollection. She’s having trouble tracking what she’s done. She remembers all the bad…but she doesn’t remember the time of day she opens the drapes.

  Pathetic.

  Sliding the curtain open, she doesn’t hesitate to open the window, letting the cold wind hit her, to wake her up, make her feel alive again. It doesn’t work. With fear filling her, she closes the window and the shroud. Stumbling to her table, her eyes need to adjust to the darkness once again. She blindly pours herself a desperate drink of alcohol. Gulping it down, she pours another glass, drinking that too. The world needs to disappear. Her pain, her sorrows. She needs to disappear. Pouring herself a third glass, she turns toward her bed but shrieks when she
sees a figure sitting on it.

  She looks like Awyn. She is Awyn. But not Soul or Soulless. This is someone that is familiar but a stranger all the same. Powerful and authoritative. Monstrous and understanding.

  She grips her glass. “Which one are you?”

  “Soulless calls me the scary one.”

  Oh. Great. “So. Who are you, then?”

  Silently, she stands, walking toward Awyn, footsteps unheard and breath absent. Her hair is curly like Awyn’s, blacker than Zyadar, her skin fairer than Sericia. But her lips aren’t red, and her eyes aren’t blue. Pale lips, eyes blacker than her hair.

  “I know you.” Awyn takes a step closer to her. “I know you…”

  “I’m your Fear.”

  Awyn swallows. “Why are you here?”

  “I’m not supposed to be. Soul and Soulless think they know what’s going on, but they don’t. They think you’ve been neglecting a different emotion.”

  “Who did they think I was repressing?”

  “Hate. And while Hate is strong, I’m stronger. I knew you wouldn’t give in to your hate like Revera did. But you’d give in to me.” She touches her cheek. “You’ve repressed me for so long, Awyn. Look where that got you.”

  “I haven’t—”

  “But you will. You need to. I can make you strong.”

  “I’m already afraid. And I’m weak because of it.”

  “You’re broken, not afraid. Paranoid. Fear is something to harness, to control. It’s something that can make you strong. I make the other Cores strong. Love is driven by the thought—the fear—of losing another. Courage comes when you’re afraid you will never be more than who you are, whether it’s a princess…or a hero. And Hate… Hate is what happens when the fear breaks and the anger sets in. I drive humanity. I drive you. And you can’t push me aside any longer.”

  Awyn turns away from her. “And if I give in…who will I be?”

  “Stronger than Brave was. You won’t feel your pain because you won’t have any. I am not a bad thing. When fear is corrupted by anger and love and bravery, then it gets dangerous. You can be afraid for your life or someone else’s. But if you take the corruption away, if there is only you and your fear… You’ll be able to kill Revera.”

  Awyn looks back at her. “I thought I wanted that. But now all I want to do is die.”

  “You can’t die yet.” Fear grips her arms. “You need to accept me in. Let me fuse with you as you are now. You’ll be in control, but I’m your fuel. You can make it through this war, Awyn. And when it’s over, I’ll leave.”

  “Soulless said you’d never leave.”

  “I’ll leave your body. I’ll stay in your soul, but I won’t be in your head any longer.”

  Awyn closes her eyes. “What do I have to do?”

  Fear’s eyes are secure and focused. “Say yes.”

  What am I doing? No, I can’t do this. But I need to. If this can make me strong, then I can lead my people against Revera and Karak. I can kill him. I can kill her. But is this weakness or strength?

  “It’s strength. I am something to be feared, Awyn. In every sense of the word.” Her eyes narrow, confident and lethal. “But what is stronger than fear?”

  She has a point. I’ve been so caught up in fear I’ve barely left my room.

  “If you let me in, you’ll be as strong as I am. All you have to do is say yes.”

  Awyn swallows, looking at her. A second’s decision. She can’t give herself time to think because she’ll back out. Stop thinking and just do. After it’s done, you can feel guilty. You can feel wrong.

  After.

  “Yes.”

  Fear nods and disappears.

  The door opens behind her. Awyn can hear footsteps, the clank of weapons. And all at once, the pain dissolves. No paranoia. No doubt.

  No fear.

  Walking to her desk, Awyn grabs her sword.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  “You’re pregnant?” Eldowyn repeats for the hundredth time since they’ve been locked in the cell. And that was two days ago.

  “Yes, Eldowyn,” Adriel groans, lying on the bed. “Now can you stop fixating on it?”

  “Is it Saine’s?”

  Adriel’s silent, but after a long moment, answers, “Yes.”

  Ethiah watches as Eldowyn’s face visibly contorts, in both brotherly protectiveness, congratulations, and anger at Saine. She taps her foot, glad for a distraction while she’s stuck in here. This cell reminds her too much of the tree.

  “I’m happy for you, Adriel,” she says, trying to get them to talk again.

  “Thank you.” Her face darkens. It’s one thing to survive this war, but it’s another thing to watch the child grow up. Even if the world is in peace, Adriel will likely live long after her child dies. Half-elves live for a long time, but they don’t live forever.

  “Have you told the father?” Babinoux asks.

  “No. Saine wasn’t around much, and now there is no way I’m telling him.”

  “He shouldn’t have lied to you, Adriel,” Ethiah starts. “But he’s the father. He needs to know.”

  “I decide what he does and doesn’t need to know when it comes to my child!” Adriel says, tears in her eyes. Her face hardens, and the tears seem to retreat because she wipes her eyes but doesn’t cry. “I’m sorry. But Saine doesn’t deserve to know this baby.”

  Ethiah decides it’s best to change the subject. “So, does one of you have a plan?”

  Eldowyn looks at her. “Plan for what?”

  “For getting out of here.”

  John scoffs. “Good luck. When Awyn was queen, she had as few guards as possible. But now that the people are in charge, and we’re in here, there’s going to be at least a score of guards between us and the dungeon’s exit.” He shakes his head. “Go ahead, but I’m staying here. I’m content with dying.”

  “In a cell?”

  Babinoux sighs. “I was ideally going to die on the battlefield and have my wife weep as my body was burned…” He shrugs. “It’s been my dream since I was a child.”

  Ethiah exchanges a glance with Eldowyn, but neither of them says anything. “You’ve never had another dream? You’ve always wanted to be a soldier?” she asks, not sure what she wants his answer to be.

  “When I was five, I wanted to be a dragon. Does that count?”

  Ethiah nods. “Sure.” She looks at Eldowyn, once again wanting to change the subject. “Do you ever escape?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Do you ever go into others’ dreams? Ever step into others’ thoughts or heads? Not to intervene, but just to escape?”

  “I don’t have that ability. I can listen to thoughts, dig a little into memories and pasts, but I can’t project myself into others’ realities.”

  “Oh.” Ethiah looks at Adriel. “What about you?”

  “I used to. Now I find everyone’s dreams are empty and gray. It’s depressing.”

  “Yeah.” Ethiah sighs tiredly. Through the small slit in the mountain wall she can see starlight. “I’m going to try to sleep. Come up with a plan before I wake, yeah?”

  Eldowyn rolls his eyes. “Yeah, we’ll try that right away.”

  Ethiah glares at him but lays her head down and shuts her eyes.

  “We’re never getting out of here,” she hears John mumble.

  “We have to,” Eldowyn argues. She knows he’s looking at Adriel, but he’s thinking about Kepp. “We have to.”

  Ethiah slips into sleep, and steps into another’s consciousness. She would have guessed his dreams would be dark, but this is something different.

  A gray sky above, the air is still as she steps over hundreds upon hundreds of bodies, all slain. Some of their eyes stare blankly at the bare sky, or she can’t tell because of blood and more are piled on top of each other. Some wear armor, or the garb of the Red Warriors. There are elves, dwarves, and humans alike. She sees men, women, and children. And in the midst of it all—

  Aradon.
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  A wind sweeps in as their gazes connect. She doesn’t move, but he walks toward her, blood staining his hands, splattered on his neck and face, his clothes. When he stands in front of her, she’s silent, looking into his blue eyes.

  “This is me. You had to do the unimaginable when you were trapped to survive.” He doesn’t take his eyes off her. “I did this for pleasure. The ground is stained with the blood of those I’ve killed. You had a terrible past, that’s true. But you had no choice. You were afraid, alone. The only thing I’ve been afraid of is not being able to kill. And I shame myself for it, but I don’t reject that side of me anymore. I accept it. I’ve accepted that I’m a murderer. A monster. Being a monster is going to get me through this war and keep those I care about safe.”

  She wants him to hold her, but he doesn’t.

  “Accept what you had to do. You did it for better reasons than I. Don’t blame yourself for surviving, you did nothing wrong. You didn’t kill another being. Nor hurt them. You hurt yourself to survive. Honor doesn’t only come from protecting others and serving them. It’s honorable to save yourself, and someday you’ll see that.”

  Ethiah blinks, still holding his gaze. “And this is real?”

  He still doesn’t touch her. “You’re the elf.”

  She presses a hand to his chest. She knows it’s real when it doesn’t fall through his flesh and bone, but feels his heartbeat, the rhythm of his breathing. When she escapes into dreams, she’s a ghost, unless she makes herself known, and they acknowledge she’s there. In this one, she wasn’t sure if she was going to make herself known. But he’s seen her, accepted her, and now this is as real as the waking day.

  Beside her, a dead body catches her attention. A girl, young with innocent eyes. She swallows. “Are these your victims?”

  Aradon looks away. “Most nights, I dream about killing them. I see their eyes, their faces. Hear their screams. I can feel the pleasure in killing some of them, but others terrify me.”

  “Lily’s parents?”

  He looks at her. “Yes.”

  “The children?”