by Kate Kelley
She sprinted toward the door, ducking under blasts and leaping over dead and dying men. When she reached the door, someone clutched her arm. She elbowed him in the face, spun, and blasted him with arrow shaped aura. Her aura sliced into the man’s face as he fell backward, screaming in pain. He wore black.
Ganymede’s side.
She turned again and sprinted down the hall. A knight with the Gem insignia stabbed a black robed man cleanly through the heart and turned toward her, wielding the bloody weapon.
Lyra raised her hands. “It’s Lyra!”
The knight lowered his weapon and pulled his helmet up. “Lyra, to the battlements. Safest place. Terrin’s orders.” He heaved with every breath.
She clutched his armored forearm. “Is Terrin okay?”
The knight nodded. “The Queen is as well. Terrin told me not to tell you, lest...lest someone read your mind.”
Lyra nodded, even though the remark jabbed her ego, and she jogged around him.
“Miss Lyra!”
She turned around.
“The Ursa fighter mages turned on us. They attacked us as soon as they arrived. They’re killing anyone who isn’t their own. Navi fled back to Ursa.”
Lyra’s jaw dropped and cold tendrils of dread bloomed through her. “Did they know about the Fae?”
The knight shook his head. “Terrin said no.”
A man leapt out of nowhere onto the knights back and he crushed him with his weight against the wall, turned and ran him through with his sword, lowered his helmet and ran into the throne room.
Lyra continued down the hall until she reached the foyer. A troll ran toward her with a growl. She sidestepped him and blasted him with a sharp aura, cutting through his body in several places. He died before he hit the ground.
Ignoring the roll of useless guilt, she jumped to the stairs, taking them two at a time.
The battlements are on top of the castle.
A blast cut her back, searing through her skin.
“Don’t hurt her, you imbecile!” A gruff, miniature voice screamed.
Lyra crawled up the one stairs until she gained composure and dominion over the pain, and leapt to her feet.
Small, clammy hands grabbed her ankles and pulled; she landed on her ribs at the edge of a step, a crack sounding and breath leaving her lungs in a whoosh.
She turned, kicking. His hands were like wires despite their dampness. They dragged her down the steps, crushing her broken rib in unearthly pain, and she twisted, kicking like a maniac. Anger rose swiftly inside her center, clawing through her like a caged beast. Finally she twisted enough that she could blast around her shoulder. The blast cascaded like a horizontal blade, turned black and sliced her assailant’s neck, lopping his head off in a clean slice.
Lyra stomach roiled and she swallowed the bile that rose in her throat.
I hadn’t meant to do that. Had I?
She stood and climbed the stairs, taking two, three at a time, her breath shallow as the stab of pain of each one drawn. She kept her goal in mind.
Get to the battlements. Get to the battlements.
The upstairs was eerily devoid of people as she ran through the corridors, her boots clicking loudly.
She stopped abruptly.
There’s a quieter way to do this.
She focused on the far end of the corridor, and willed herself to go there, reappearing in the exact spot she imagined.
If I’d ever been to the battlements, I might have been able to transport there. directly.
She turned up the small stairwell to the left, the curvature narrow, the steps pale stone. She walked for what felt like an eternity, not quite able to jump because she couldn’t see far enough in front of her. When she reached the top, she curved around the last step and ran into a knight, easily the biggest man she’d ever seen besides, well, a giant. The man looked more than a little uncomfortably cramped in the small space. He lifted his helmet, scraping the ceiling with the metal. His dark brown eyes squeezed tightly as sweat poured from his forehead.
She clutched her side. The pain was subsiding, healing, thank the gods. “It’s me, Lyra.”
The knight scrutinized her for a moment before opening the door. “May the gods with be with ye,” he mumbled. He pushed her through and closed the door tightly.
The first thing she noticed was Poppi and Oriel blasting their auras through the crenels in the battlement wall, which was head height for most men on the wall. Archers shot arrows through the crenels and mages shot their magic. Lyra ran to Oriel. Arrows whizzed over her head. When he saw her, he nearly choked.
“Lyra!” Poppi stopped and looked at her and breathed a sigh of relief, tears brimming her eyes. Lyra nodded at them. “I’m fine. Where’s Terrin?”
Oriel nodded through the crenel opening. “In the thick of it,” he said darkly. The roar of battle resounded over the land and Lyra felt the tremblings of it in her center.
An arrow shot through the crenel and stabbed Oriel in the chest.
Lyra screamed and flattened herself against the wall as another one came through, bouncing off the opposite stone parapet. Oriel hissed through his teeth while Poppi promptly laid him down and ripped his shirt open at the wound. Lyra watched in amazement as Poppi stuck her finger in the wound, widening it, and pulled the arrow out slowly. Oriel bellowed in pain through grit teeth. Once the arrow was out, the hole began closing.
Poppi wiped a shaking hand on her brow, smearing it with blood. “Thank the gods, no dark magic.”
Oriel sat up, his face flushed as he eyed Poppi. “Good work. And that’s a lesson for you, Lyra.”
“Only you could turn war into a teaching moment, Oriel,” Lyra quipped.
“Blast through the crenels. Ours are in black armor. Ursa is in silver. Ganymede’s are..well quite obvious..not human. His good mages are nearly all dead by now. They can’t physically fight, and their magic wasn’t enough against our knights. The river sirens got rid of the rest of them. The trolls and the giant remain. Ursa mages are quite good with the bow, and many are resistant to the sirens song.”
Another arrow whizzed by as if to demonstrate his words, landing in a mage’s eye behind them. He screamed and fell to the ground. Oriel rushed over to him.
Lyra spun and peered through the crenel. Trolls clashed swords and bodies with Gem knights, the trolls teeming on the ground like little hairy children. A Giant filled the space in between. She spotted it crushing knights underfoot, accidentally squashing a troll in the movement. Several trolls rounded on the giant, stabbing him in the foot with little spears. The giant shook them off with an ear-splitting roar.
Lyra nodded, speaking out loud to steady and orient herself. “The Giant has a disadvantage here. The ground is packed with men. The Giant can’t move or kill as quickly for fear of killing men on his own side. That’s good.”
She extended her palm through the crenel, careful not to stick it out too far, and aimed it at the giant’s left pupil, her aim wavering as the target swayed in his movements. She blasted a razor sharp sliver of aura and flung it as far as she could. It pierced silently in the left corner of the giant’s eye and he stumbled, clutching his face. His bellow was deafening and he stomped right over the gaggle of trolls that were surrounding him. Lyra inwardly cheered, but sobered when the giant stumbled toward Gem knights. They dove out of the way just in time before the giant fell to his knee.
Lyra aimed at an Ursa archer who was notching an arrow. The slice cut him through the face and he was knocked backward. She sliced another archer, then another.
She kept this up for several minutes, slicing with her aura, ducking out of the way when arrows and blasts came their way. Occasionally she would hear the scuffle on the other side of the door where the large knight stood guard, but it would silence quickly. The giant she struck stood again, his left eye a gaping, bloody hole. She aimed for the other eye.
If I can get rid of the giant, that’s half the battle.
Lyra couldn�
�t get the right aim through the small slit in the parapet, her arm hitting the sharp sides of the stone every time the giant moved.
She stood quickly and clutched the top of the stone wall, lifting herself over it for a moment for a clear view. As soon as she did, an arrow whizzed past her head, nicking her earlobe. She crouched back down, her heart beating wildly out of her chest. When she peered through the crenel cautiously, a man in a black robe ran the Ursa archer through with a sword. There was something familiar about him.
Why was one of Ganymede’s mages killing an Ursa mage?
The black robed man looked up and his gaze bore directly into hers, as if he could see her through the stone battlements. An inking of unease crawled up her spine when his mouth curled in a smile and he lifted his hand in a wave. Lyra’s breath caught in her throat and she flattened herself against the wall.
That couldn’t be...
She turned as a loud bang sounded at the door just in time to see the door explode.
She jumped to her feet. Several recently recruited dormant mages aimed their fledgling palms at the the settling dust. Knights assumed fighting stances.
Navi stood in the opening, her hair like fire, her eyes like ice, and centered her fury fully on Lyra. Lyra notched her chin and leveled her stare.
“You brought Fae into my kingdom.” Her words were quiet, so unlike the shrill voice Lyra was used to hearing from her. Knights shifted, some turning away to resume their guard on the wall. The mages suddenly looked uncomfortable and lowered their palms.
Lyra swallowed. “I don’t know what you mean. If Fae are there, it was of their own volition. I had nothing to--”
“LIAR!” Navi screamed, her voice like glass in her ears.
There she is.
Navi advanced slowly and a knight shifted, looking to Lyra with a question in his eyes. Lyra shook her head at him and walked to Navi, feigning confidence.
“Let’s go inside to talk,” Lyra said calmly. Inside she quaked, her mind scrambling to think of something to say.
I wish Terrin were here.
They made their way down the stairwell and stopped at the end of the hallway.
Navi slammed the door shut and rounded on Lyra. “How dare you, you halfling filth!”
The waning sunlight shone eerily on her ice blue eyes through the oriel window, and Lyra could just imagine the pupils elongating into slits. She suppressed a shudder and took a deep breath.
“Navi--”
“That’s Queen Navi to you!” She snarled, baring her gleaming white teeth.
Lyra glanced out the window. “Not anymore, I’m afraid. Am I right?”
Navi’s pupils did elongate into slits then, and Lyra couldn’t repress the shudder that ran up her spine that time. Shouts rang out down the stairs below them, but they didn’t pay them any attention.
“I should have killed you that day,” Navi breathed out, her voice like frost on glass.
“Oh, don’t pretend. You’re master wouldn’t have allowed that, now would he?”
Navi’s eyes widened slightly before she recovered.
Lyra searched Navi’s face, noticed the tell-tale signs that she had struck a nerve. “So he is your master, then. Ganymede.”
Navi’s nostrils flared. “You aren’t worthy to speak his name.”
Lyra snorted and ran her hand along the window sill’s sharp stone. “In love with him now too? My, my, what an ambitious girl you are. A Prince isn’t enough for you? Have to have a dark sorcerer too?”
Navi growled. “Did you really ever think that I’d marry a Prince? That I’d give up my Queendom for the measly title of Gem Princess? No. Master is taking the Gem throne for me. Tornasuuk is destroying the Fae like insects as we speak. I’ll have my Ursa Kingdom back as soon as I secure this one, and then I’ll rule over all.”
Lyra forced herself to turn slowly. “So you never intended to marry Terrin? Never intended to fight alongside him in the battle?”
Navi smirked and her long eyelashes touched her porcelain cheeks. “You really are stupid, aren’t you?”
“Well, then I don’t feel bad for letting the Fae take Ursa,” Lyra replied. She turned and looked out the window again. Instantly, she spotted a black haired man raging against a militia of trolls and Ursa mages. They surrounded him, coming and coming for strikes and blows and he maneuvered through it all like it was a dance, slashing and cutting down opponent after opponent. His face was twisted in a mask of rage and malice, the hard glint in his eye visible even from that distance. He was a warrior, exacting vengeance on his enemies and showing no mercy. A part of him enjoyed it, she knew. His words from the other day came back to her. 'I’m not a good man and never claimed to be.'
Lyra touched the window. Gods, keep him safe.
“He’ll die, stupid girl. And you’re to blame.”
Lyra clutched the window sill. “Give it a rest and go home. Accept your defeat.”
Navi narrowed her eyes and her mouth fell open in disbelief. “You really are a dull, sad, peasant girl. Master wants you. For some reason I will never understand. He wouldn’t be killing your friends if you’d just give yourself to him. Of course, he is also taking the throne for me. But all the killing outside that window could cease. If you’d just go to Master now.”
Lyra grit her teeth and tore her gaze from the window. “What does he want with me?”
Navi began circling her, eyeing her like prey. “I could take you to him. He’d reward me.” Navi licked her lips as she pondered the idea.
Lyra let her aura rise in her palms. “You could try.”
Navi let out a tinkling laugh, eerily like a small child’s. She quirked her head and smiled, two fangs sliding out past her lower lip. When she ran a tongue along one of them, her eyes glazed over. Her nostrils flared as if scenting her prey. “You cannot defeat me. You never will.”
Lyra innately stilled, as if sensing her predator was about to attack.
If Navi turns now, she’ll kill me.
A beast knows no mercy, no logic. She’d seen Navi’s wolf eyes.
Even after Ganymede had telepathically tortured her for hurting me, she had still run after me, the bloodlust fairly seeping from her eyes.
Navi’s head bowed in a jerky movement and the sound of crunching resounded off the corridor’s stone walls. The sides of Navi’s face darkened, red fur sprouting where beautiful, porcelain skin used to be.
Lyra realized the crunching sound was Navi’s bones distorting when the redhead’s shoulders snapped backward, and her spine hunched, ripping her velvet burgundy dress.
Lyra backed up and touched the wall behind her for stability. Sweat beaded on her forehead. She eyed the door to the stairwell to her right. She could run. But the Red Wolf was faster. She’d follow her up there and who knew how many she would kill after she tasted my blood. Gem Knights. Mages. Oriel. Poppi.
She had a choice to make. Kill Navi now, or surely die.
Navi landed on all fours the moment Lyra made her decision, and when the Red Wolf lunged, Lyra sliced her hand through the air, cascading a blade of aura that was black as the darkest of nights.
Navi’s wolf head dropped from her body an instant later, ice blue eyes stuck open, still full of hatred and the intent to kill.
Lyra spun and ran into a troll with black hair reaching his ankles. He threw a dagger and it pierced her hand, sticking through.
She let out a scream and blasted at the troll with her other hand, stabbing him in the heart. Her only thought was to get the blade out of her hand. She gripped the silver handle and pulled. It came out cleanly, even as pain seared her...It didn’t heal.
Shyte.
Lyra sucked the dark magic out with her other hand, and the dark magic coalesced into a whispery black cloud in her palm. She contemplated it for a moment as her wound healed, and eyed the dying troll at her feet. She could release it into the troll as he was still living and once he died, the dark magic would be destroyed naturally.
Li
ke a phantom controlled her arm, she finally pressed the black sphere into her center. It absorbed instantly, strengthening her from the inside out. She smiled.
Turning back to the window, she stepped over the red wolf’s lifeless body. It didn’t take long for her to find Terrin again, but when she did, her heart stopped.
He was on his back, teeth clenched and eyes wild as he used a spare piece of wood to block the reach of two trolls on top of him, their little hands swiping with deadly claws. Lyra watched as a troll bit one of his arms and the other raised a small dagger. Terrin rolled and slammed the dagger-wielding troll into the ground, but not before he stabbed him through the stomach.
Lyra screamed and covered her mouth. “Where is his armor? His magic?” She pushed against the window sill and whipped open the staircase door.
There’s a way down the battlement. I’ll sneak down the back of the wall. I know there’s a rope there somewhere. I can’t hide up here while Terrin fights for his life down there.
Her heart beat out of her chest as she ran up the stairwell and emerged onto the battlements. She stopped at the scene.
Knights and mages were piled up like discarded dolls on the sides of the walls. The remaining mages and archers were harried, frazzled, their sparks of aura weak and sloppy. Lyra leapt over bodies as she made her way down the wall.
She grabbed a mage by the arm and spun him around. “Have the Fae come yet? Any word?”
The man shook his head, his startled blue eyes weary like he’d been up for days, his face haggard. He was probably just a farmer from a rural village, thinking he could do the kingdom a bit of good.
He doesn’t know what he’s gotten into. And neither do I.
She stepped over a brown-skinned man lying prone on the floor, a woman bent awkwardly over him on the other side.
“Lyra.” A whimper pierced her mind and she turned to the sound.
Persimmon lay on her stomach, her head twisted to the side. Several arrows pierced her back.
“Persimmon?” Lyra fell to her knees next to her.
“Oh, gods,” Lyra murmured as she began to use the technique she saw Poppi doing, digging her finger into the warm, wet wounds and extracting the arrows. Persimmon whimpered quietly as she worked. By the time she was done, Persimmon was quiet.
