by J. M. Topp
Sweat dripped from Elymiah’s skin. Her footing was unsure as she did not know what to do. ‘Oredmere save me,’ Elymiah whispered, raising her hand at the beast. The beast suddenly turned and stared at the sky as if something was calling him. It seemed that the battle had paused for a moment. The daemon soldiers all raised their heads to look at the skies, ignoring the frightened soldiers and men before them. Wisps of ash and smoke emanated from them, and they began to shoot up into the dark clouds. Pillar after pillar, they exploded into the musky air. The giant beast turned to look at Elymiah.
‘Why now? Can’t you wait until I’ve had my fill?’ The beast growled at the skies. Fire spilled from his cloven hoofs and began to dance around the angry beast. He turned and grabbed his warhammer. ‘I leave thee with a prophecy, young knight. Remember these words. The time will come when you will be given a task. Sacrifice yourself for that which you despise. When that time comes, your death will knock ever so lightly upon your door. You will kill that which you covent most.’
The beast smiled, showing his blood-stained teeth. Bits of flesh and bone dangled from his jaws. He snorted and ascended into the dark heavens in a pillar of flame. It shone brighter than anything Elymiah had seen before. Its radiance blinded those who looked upon it. Rising higher and higher, it trailed into the empyrean. A crack of thunder roared through the skies, and all grew dark. It was as if the daemons were never there. The silence that overtook the men, both from Weserith and Aivaterra, was as deafening as the thunder. Men stared at each other wordlessly.
Elymiah rolled over on her stomach and vomited. Her sides ached, and her armour scraped against her skin. She wiped the edges of her mouth and looked up at Robyn, as he was still lying on the ground. In a panic, Elymiah crawled over to him. ‘Robyn, get up.’ She shook him lightly. Robyn opened his eyes suddenly and shook his head. He had a few bruises on his face, but overall, he was relatively unharmed. Ash lingered in the air as men began to collect themselves. Some soldiers knelt on the ground, some crying and others laughing, not believing what they had witnessed.
‘I’m alive. By Oredmere, Elymiah, what was that?’ asked Robyn, putting a hand to his forehead. It dawned on Elymiah that what they had witnessed would change everything. Myths and legends had sprung to life, and now they had to deal with their existence. A warhorn was heard in the distance. Elymiah saw a line of men rise on the hill. Their blue armour shone in the waning moon, and their blue Aivaterran banners flapped in the wind.
‘Behold our infantry,’ said Elymiah, shaking her head. ‘Late, as always.’
Elymiah stood up and helped Robyn to his feet. One of her men stood up and began to yell. He held his shield and sword high in the air. Men began to join in the cheer. They had beaten the Dark Army back into the skies. Robyn took a deep breath and screamed as loudly as he could. Elymiah grabbed her halberd from the ground and leaned on it. Yet the words the beast had spoken haunted her.
‘You will kill that which you covet most…’
Elymiah glanced at Robyn. What could the beast have been talking about? What do I covet the most? She looked up at the dark skies. It wasn’t a victory. The Dark Armies had retreated, but the reason was beyond Elymiah. The skies cracked ever so slightly to reveal the moon glaring down at them.
ELYMIAH’S KNEES THROBBED with pain. She had been kneeling before the statue of Oredmere in Weserith’s main chapel for over seven hours. The bronze horse stared down at her solemnly. He stood with one hoof on the book of invocation. She looked at the stone representation of her god, its magnificence filling her with courage. The dark had captivated her with fear. Elymiah let it all go in the name of Oredmere. Her legs ached, but she channeled the pain into prayer. Her armour had been cleaned, and all the dents had been taken out of it. It gave Elymiah pride to wear it in all its glory. She clenched her armoured fist, feeling the curvature of her steel gauntlets.
‘Fill me with your holy soul. May it guide my shield and halberd,’ Elymiah whispered as she closed her eyes and repeated the holy chapters she had memorized when she was a child. A shiver shot up her spine. Elymiah’s eyes opened slowly. It could not be that the creatures she had seen were real. It had to have been a dream. Immediately, she closed her eyes once more and continued to whisper verses of courage and endurance to herself. She heard someone enter the small chapel room but didn’t turn to look.
She knew who it was.
Robyn knelt beside Elymiah and held his fist to his chest.
‘I had a feeling I would find you here, Ely.’
Robyn had broken his shield arm during the battle. His arm had since been bandaged, and Robyn wore a sling around it. The healers said it was cracked internally, but that it would heal given time. Robyn jested that it would be stronger than before once the bone healed.
‘The Hallowed Masters require a testament from you and the other knight-captains,’ said Robyn, staring at the statue. Elymiah thought about the Anointing she had received from the Hallowed Masters. It seemed like it had been years ago. She tried to stand up, but her knees buckled under her. They were cramped and raw, but it was a pain that Elymiah cherished. It was a reminder of her holiness. Robyn held his good hand out, and she took it, standing carefully.
‘We will not keep them waiting, Robyn.’
They walked along the halls of the Weserithian castle. The tapestries of King Ayland’s conquest had been replaced with Aivaterran banners. The golden sparrow sigil glistened in the sunlight. Robyn held her arm as they paced through the halls.
‘You heard what happened to the king of Weserith?’ asked Robyn, careful to keep a slower pace for Elymiah.
‘I have been in the chapel most of the night, Robyn. No, I have not heard.’
‘Right.’ Robyn nodded and then smiled. ‘He is dead.’
Elymiah turned to look at his smirking face.
‘King Ayland is dead? How?’
‘He was in the camps with the army. We thought he had escaped and was hiding in the Insolvent District. Turns out, he wasn’t in Weserith at all.’
So it was true; he had escaped in the night. Bendrick Greystonne had gone missing as well. It didn’t take a genius to put two and two together. It was bitterly disappointing. Bendrick had saved Elymiah’s life, but it seemed that her gratitude wasn’t enough.
To think that I gave him honour for saving my life.
‘We found King Ayland behind the commanders’ tent. He had been cut in half and lay with sword embedded into his neck. He had a smile etched on his face.’ Robyn shivered as he recounted the memory. ‘Queen Gwendylyyn has brought his body for burial after our meet. The healers think that it was one of the dark men that did the act.’
The Dark Army’s arrival had definitely struck fear in Elymiah’s heart as well as her men’s. But their victory, surprising though it was, reinstated their confidence. They could be pushed back. They could be defeated.
All except the Minotaur. How can a beast like that die?
The remaining Weserithians were too dazed to fight. They had surrendered without any further fight. Some of them had gone completely mad, tearing at their clothes and pulling their teeth out. All that could be done with the insane was to put them out of their misery. The remaining Weserithian Army had then been taken back to Weserith and decommissioned. Their armour and swords were taken from them, and they were placed back in the Insolvent District under extreme supervision. Elymiah had personally overseen the transition and made sure that no complications came to pass.
The knight-captain of the Holy Silver Angels Platoon and her lieutenant arrived at the council room of the queen’s palace. Robyn stayed outside of the room, as he wasn’t allowed to converse with the Hallowed Masters directly. Knight-Captain Ansfrid Perinnet of the Holy Bronze Cobras Platoon and Knight-Captain Trystrem ‘the Guardian’ of the Holy Purple Rhinos Platoon stood as Elymiah entered the room. The knight-captains stood beside the Hallowed Masters. Yngerame was the only one who nodded at her with a smile.
‘Welcome, Knight
-Captain. Please, take a seat.’ Yngerame’s voice echoed softly through the small council room. ‘Queen Gwendylyyn will be with us shortly.’
For a moment, Elymiah had forgotten about the queen’s marriage to William, making the man a king. The attack at Estia Fortress had clouded the event of their union and even King William’s crowning. His crowning had been so low profile that Elymiah had heard it had only been the Hallowed Masters and the queen who had been present. Elymiah didn’t understand quite what that meant in terms of power, but she couldn’t delve into the thought any further, as the doors opened quite suddenly.
Queen Gwendylyyn entered the council room, white as winter and without a word. Her belly was showing more than ever. She would deliver any day now, according to the healers. The queen wore an exquisite Aivaterran white silk dress. Elymiah admired the beautifully sewn dress but dared not comment on it. The queen didn’t look happy. She took her seat at the head of the table and nodded for the council members to take their seats.
‘We must not stay in Weserith any longer. It has become too dangerous,’ she said, staring down at her belly. Ortengryyn, the Chastiser, and Yngerame stood and raised their arms above their heads. They then placed them on his chest and turned to the council.
‘We do find that it is Oredmere’s will for us to return to our home in Aivaterra, my Queen. Yet it will not be an easy task to carry out. The Dark encroaches upon Weserith,’ said Ortengryyn.
The queen cocked her head and turned to her knight-captains.
‘What of it? We annihilated the Weserithians and their armies. We repelled the Dark when they fell from the skies. Oredmere is undoubtedly on our side. What have we to fear?’
Trystrem shifted in his seat uncomfortably. Though Elymiah had met Trystrem before, it was the first time she had been in such close proximity with the fabled knight. Leader to the Holy Purple Rhinos Platoon, his armour was coloured lavender. His helm had been chiseled into the shape of a rhino head, with the mouth of the rhino forming the face-piece. Even his armour wasn’t like the armour of other knight-captains. Some said that his armour was hewn from a giant boulder: highly protective but excessively heavy. It was also said that in battle he never flinched nor retreated. He would crush any foe that stood in his way. Though Elymiah had not been with Trystrem to witness his prowess during the Estian attack, the tale rounding through the ranks was that he killed more daemons than the entire army combined. He used a massive greatsword imbued with Oredmere’s tears. The added blessing provided a critical boost to strength and morale in battle, or so everyone said. The hair on his head had been closely cut, and he had ordered sparrow designs to be shaved into what remained of his hair. His grey eyes looked down at the ground, and he bit his lip in silence. Finally, the queen turned to him.
‘What bothers you, my Knight-Captain?’
‘He never falters in combat, but in a council room he pisses his breeches,’ Ansfrid whispered with a chuckle, elbowing the now-embarrassed Elymiah in the shoulder. She began to turn red and felt a warmth on her neck. Where Trystrem was elegant and had a penchant for spectacle, Ansfrid was simple and brash. Without any true accolades to speak of, Ansfrid wore armour similar to Elymiah’s. His was coloured bronze, however, and on the breastplate was the head of a viper. He chuckled to himself with a chilling grin. Elymiah decided in that moment that she didn’t like Ansfrid. Her spine crawled as he laughed. His beak-like nose poked the air, and his shifty green eyes glanced up at the other members of the council. He cleared his throat as he realized he was the only one laughing and composed himself. His hair was visibly thinning, and strands of it had been combed over his balding head. Elymiah frowned in disgust and turned to the queen, who had the same look it seemed. She ignored Ansfrid’s jest.
‘What bothers you, Trystrem?’ she repeated with thin lips.
‘Oredmere gave us victory in the last two skirmishes, my Queen,’ Trystrem said as if measuring his words, ‘Yet the enemy couldn’t have made it easier. Their armour was old, and their swords were rusted. It’s like they came from a different age without the advances in technology we enjoy today.’
Elymiah rubbed her chin thoughtfully. Now that Trystrem mentioned it, the enemy had been easily cleaved through. Trystrem cleared his throat as he continued. ‘It seems the legends were true about the Dark Army’s return. Yet, even though we won the battle, it won’t be the last we will see of them. Dark clouds have already begun to collect over Weserith, and travelers have been found mauled in pools of blood along on the roadsides. Most of the Weserithians are now too scared to leave the city, as are most of our men.’
‘Poppy-cock. We cannot rule out bandits and the like,’ interjected Ansfrid flippantly. ‘Though, yes, the Dark does pose a threat to us, it’s not as great as the Weserithians. Korhas, the Lord of the Greenwood, is still at large. His terrorist attacks have gotten worse in the last week. Often, we find our soldiers nailed to trees or hanging from parapets.’
The queen frowned at Ansfrid’s words, and then glanced to the growing belly on her lap. ‘Elymiah, you have been silent until now. What are your thoughts?’ whispered the queen. She craned her head at Elymiah and eyed curiously. Elymiah, now on the spot, chose her words carefully.
‘The Dark is going to besiege the city. That’s the only thing that makes sense. They will cut us off from Aivaterra, but beyond that, why have they chosen now to reappear? Why attack Estia? To kill King Ayland?’ said Elymiah, putting her hand to her forehead and shaking her head. Ansfrid and Trystrem glanced at her incredulously, but the queen motioned for her to continue. ‘It’s true that we have stores to last a year, but we would fare far better in our own lands. The only true obstacle, other than the Dark Armies, is winter.’
Ortengryyn shook his head. ‘Winter is dissipating. It is odd, this is true, but already the snows are beginning to plateau. I think they will begin to recede before too long. We must leave.’
‘I couldn’t agree more. Our objective was to neutralize a threat to our lands and our queen,’ Trystrem said, nodding in agreement. ‘I say that it has been complete and we need not stay in this putrid land any longer.’
‘What of the Weserithians?’ Ansfrid eyed the council cautiously. ‘We killed their king, destroyed their army, and razed their lands. If we leave them, they will be food for crows.’
‘Or worse.’ Trystrem looked at the queen and then at the Hallowed Masters. ‘We can take them, but finding a place in the Khahadran for them will be rather difficult.’
‘I care not what happens to the people of this land,’ Gwendylyyn frowned once more.
‘Your Grace, to leave them here would be—’ Ansfrid protested, but the look on her face told him not to continue his train of thought. The queen was still bitter over the events of the last twenty years, and who could blame her? Elymiah’s heart reached out to her, but if the queen could feel it, she didn’t show it.
‘These Weserithians have no place in the Khahadran, yet I realize the situation at hand.’ The queen stared at Yngerame. ‘What do the Hallowed Masters have to say?’
Ortengryyn, who was still standing, glanced at Yngerame and nodded.
‘The land of Yorveth is more than plentiful. It is Oredmere’s will that they have a choice. Those that decide to stay may do so, and those who decide to follow us back to Aivaterra, may have a place in Yorveth.’
The queen scowled at that suggestion, but she didn’t voice her objections. Yorveth was a backwater city that flooded constantly, and there was little in the way of profession except for fishing and possibly working in the shipyards.
‘Very well,’ the queen agreed finally. ‘As long as they pledge their allegiance to Aivaterra, they may stay in Yorveth. They smell of mud and rot-fish already, so they can live there for all I care. To the other, more important matter at hand—’ The queen winced in great pain and clutched at her belly. She drew in breath quickly and held it for a moment. Then she began to relax.
‘Pardon me, war council,’ the queen said, standing
up, still clutching at her stomach. ‘The child within me grows restless. Continue the council and report to me with the conclusion.’
She walked to the door and left without another word.
‘Does King William support the queen where the refugees are concerned?’ asked Ansfrid.
‘The queen has been placed as head of the country.’ Ortengryyn eyed Ansfrid with disgust. ‘To suggest otherwise would be treason.’
Ansfrid nodded in surprise and remained silent for the rest of the meeting.
‘The queen wants to leave, but I believe it’s best for us to remain here. If the Dark is preparing for a siege, it would be foolish to leave now. The Weserithian walls are intact and reinforced.’ Elymiah was surprised at the words coming from her mouth, but what had been said could not be taken back.
Yngerame’s smile froze on his face. Ortengryyn turned his gaze to Elymiah and smiled.
‘It is Oredmere’s will that we do not remain in Weserith. Are you saying his will is foolish?’
‘No, Hallowed Masters,’ said Elymiah, carefully choosing her words, ‘but many will die on this journey—especially if we bring the Weserithians with us. We will need to repel the Dark the entire way.’
‘That shouldn’t be hard. As Trystrem has pointed out, their armour is old and rusted.’
‘But, Masters, the trek is over a thousand kilometers. We not only need to think of the attacks, but also of food and water.’
Trystrem and Ansfrid stared at Elymiah with raised eyebrows. She was questioning the will of the Hallowed Masters and the will of Oredmere. It wasn’t often that they were questioned, as was evident by Ortengryyn’s reddening face.
‘Knight-Captain Farnesse, I suggest you hold your tongue.’ Yngerame was the one to interject. ‘I assume it’s fatigue from the battle or lack of nutrition that has possessed you to contradict the will of Oredmere.’
Elymiah’s face reddened once more, and she kept her silence. She glanced at Ansfrid, who was smiling at her discreetly. Elymiah reddened even more and pursed her lips.
