by Nhys Glover
"Nephew," I said, determined to make our positions clear. "You have come to offer your surrender?"
"I am no nephew to an abomination like you!" he declared, spitting the word abomination just as my father might have once done.
A burly rebel leader stepped forward and struck him hard across the face. His shocked expression was laughable. I noted then, for the first time, that there wasn't a single mark on him. He could have just stepped out of his private quarters at the palace.
"Let us do this again, shall we? Nephew, have you come to offer your surrender?"
He looked ready to spit more bile at me, but a lifted fist silenced him. He nodded mutely, begrudgingly.
"I need to hear the words, Nephew. It is not formalized until you say the words." I didn't know if this was the case or not, but I wanted to hear them.
"I surrender," he muttered.
I smiled benignly. "Then we accept. The Godling is no more. In his place stands the Goddess Incarnate and her Elemental Mages, male and female, born of many fathers. From this moment on, magic is free to all. Any person born with the gift need never fear for their life. Need never fear being called a mistake of nature or an abomination. Every person born with magic, nobleman or peasant, is a gift to us all and will be treated as such, valued as such, just as the Goddess wanted when she first gave magic to the world. Now, finally, the Goddess you and your priests denied and reviled is unbound from her chains!"
A cheer went up around the tent while my nephew scowled his displeasure. When it quietened again I went on.
"This war is over. Now the rebuilding must begin. A new form of government will be established, one where the kinglunds have a fairer say in the central government. I will preside over the establishment of this central governing body until I am assured it will be fair for all, noble and commoner alike.
"As for you, Nephew, you and your generals have a choice: life in prison or being set adrift in a sailing ship, headed for the lands beyond the seas. Some say there is nothing beyond the seas. But what if there is? It is your one chance at freedom."
"Prison? You mean imprisoned in rooms in the palace? I think not!" the ex-Godling announced in horror.
I laughed. "You are quite right, of course. Not rooms in the palace. Though I could imprison you in the hole my father put me in. Would you like that, Nephew?"
He spluttered a little but eventually shook his head.
"No? A wise choice. And no, you will not be imprisoned in the palace. What punishment is that for killing my father and continuing this war, when you had no chance of winning it? Had no right to win it. No, I will find you a prison that meets the basics for survival. But it will not be pleasant."
I paused and cocked my head to the side, enjoying myself. "Your answer?"
"Answer?" he grumbled. "What answer would there be, other than to plead for mercy? And if I thought it would work I would do just that. But you are a merciless bitch, exactly as my grandfather described you. I expect no mercy from you, for myself or my people."
The rebel leader stepped forward and punched him again. This time I heard his nose crunch and saw blood pouring into his mouth and splashing onto his pristine satin tunic. Such a pity to ruin such finery.
I could feel Rama itching to be the one doling out the punishment. However, from his position, he couldn't have reached my nephew before the rebel leader. In any case, it was better that such punishment be doled out by my loyal supporters, not my husband.
"The choices were prison or the sea. I require an answer, Nephew."
"That is no choice at all. Of course I choose prison. Going too far out into the sea means death. Everyone knows that."
I shrugged. "Possibly. But I know which I would choose if I was in your position. I lived eighteen long suncycles in a prison they called a harem. I would never willingly go back there. Mayhap you too will agree, after a few suns of imprisonment." I looked at the troopers who had brought my enemy into the tent. "Take them away."
I stood and turned to the gathered rebel leaders. "We still have much to do. But tonight we celebrate. Our war is won; the Godling is no more."
A man I didn't recognise cried out with passion. "The Goddess is Unbound!"
I grinned. "Aye, the Goddess is Unbound."
The cheers went up around me again, and my husbands moved in to hug me. I was elated and exhausted, and dreading finding out about our losses. At least a few of my airlings and their riders had gone down in flames. Others in the gale. Flea and Zem had fallen into the midst of the battle. I needed to know they survived. I needed to know how the Ab had fared from his burns. So many needed tending on both sides. My healing ability would be required now.
"I can see you're already planning what's next to do. But you're going to rest for a while first, and eat something. You're half dead on your feet," Darkin scolded me.
"I need to find Calun and make sure Flea and Zem survived," I argued.
"And you will. Calun'll bring them to you when he finds them. Now do as I say, and take a short rest. Even a Goddess has the right to be human once in a while."
I laughed softly and, yes, tiredly. Rama scooped me up and carried me back to our tent and the soft pallet awaiting me there.
And then, blissfully, I let go of everything and rested.
Chapter Twenty-Five
FLEA
We were late, but not by much. The rest of the airling troopers were mounted and ready to go, only waiting on the Airluds to lead their attack. The emotional upheaval caused by the threat to Airsha had settled me somehow. Once more the Godling had tried to undermine us by attacking the Goddess, and yet again he'd failed.
Had Airsha not had her close connection with her husbands, which brought them to her side as soon as she fell afoul of the dream state, they would have flown off into battle not knowing what had happened to her. Unable to help her. Had Calun and Airsha not had their even more amazing bond, which enabled him to go into that nightmare and pull her out of it, she might have been lost to us forever.
But he − or they, given it was not the same Godling that ruled now − didn't understand the full extent of Airsha's power. He might have known that her husbands were her protectors, but not the extent of their protection and love. They were the core of her power. And because he underestimated them he'd failed. Again.
Now we just had to show him he'd underestimated the rebellion as a whole, by winning this final battle and the war.
Zem and I grabbed up our bows and quivers and hurriedly mounted up. We were barely settled before the cry went up to take off. This was the part we'd needed to practice time and time again. Airlings didn't naturally fly in formation. Getting them to negotiate for the right amount of space for their wingspan, but no more, had been tricky. Getting them to always fly with a certain companion in front, beside and behind them, even more so. But we'd done it. Now both riders and airlings knew when it was their turn to take off and where to place themselves in the arrowhead formation.
Calun threw one encouraging glance back at us just before we took to the air. He looked excited and jubilant. From saving Airsha, I knew. But it had an effect on all of us. We caught his exuberance, and his confident knowledge we could succeed, and our own fears receded. Sure of ourselves and what we could do to the Godling's army, we took to the skies.
The first sweep was always going to be the most successful. The enemy would be caught off-guard and wouldn't be prepared to retaliate. Our forces wouldn't have entered close-quarter fighting yet, so our arrows could go where they wanted, with no fear of taking down the wrong people. So we needed to release as many arrows as we could in the first fly-over. Rain them down, so as many of the enemy were taken out as quickly as possible, to undermine the morale of the rest. Having to worry about an arrow storm from above, as well as attack from the ground, would be demoralising.
Of course, bowmen on our side were taking care of the northern front, but their range was less than ours. We covered three-quarters of the breadth of the fiel
d, while they only reached the final quarter. But together we made it so no one on the Godling's side was safe from an arrow barrage.
I had expected to feel squeamish shooting that first arrow, knowing it would sink into the body of a man and possibly kill him. I didn't. My blood was up, and all I could think of was making my aim true and fast. I needed to release as many arrows as possible in the short flight over the river of red.
By the time Spot banked and began to soar again, leaving the enemy far behind, I was covered with sweat. Dust, stirred up by thousands of booted feet, clung to that sweat, making me feel itchy and very dirty. I probably looked it too, if my companions were anything to go by. But the exhilaration we all felt made up for it.
Wiping the stinging mess out of my eyes, I flew beside Zem, grinning madly. He grinned back. We'd done it. All our hard work had paid off, and our formation had worked. But we still had several more sorties to undertake before we ran out of arrows and had to return to the ground.
The second run was always the one we feared. The enemy would be expecting us and have Elemental Masters ready to defend against our arrows. They would use fire and wind against us. Even water, if they could draw it from the clouds overhead.
Our training had taught us to bank as one to avoid magical attacks from the ground. Not easy. But the airlings could be very agile when they needed to be, and with our own quick reflexes we expected to be able to get out of the way of the worst of any barrage, and stay out of the way of each other while doing it.
That, of course, was the challenge. A fire blast might hit one or two of us, but more could be downed while trying to get out of the way. Flying into each other could cause havoc among the hundred closely positioned airlings. So we had our strategies to avoid collision, as well as any fire attacks from below.
The same went for wind. It was more of a threat to us than fire, because we rode the wind. We'd given the airlings experience with what it was like to have focused wind sent their way, knocking them off balance. They'd come up with their own ways to counter such an attack. It wasn't foolproof, but it did minimise the number of airlings affected by a wind blast.
So we reloaded our specially crafted bows with ten arrows and expected to release maybe five or six this time around. Precision was what counted now, as our men would be mixed in with the enemy from this point on.
All went well as we came in over the rocky outcrop for the second attack. I chose my targets and loosed my arrows, one after another, faster than I expected to be able to do.
It happened suddenly, just as we knew it would. Fire blasts from below, turning airlings and riders in Darkin's flight into fire balls. The rest of us reacted quickly, just as we'd been trained to do, and were able to stay in formation to finish the attack. I don't know about the others, but I avoided looking down at what happened to our fallen brothers. All I could do was stay out of trouble and keep aiming true.
By the time we rose and flew away from the battle, my hands were shaking. That had been too close. Way too close. But it had been a lot less deadly than we'd expected. Only that one blast of fire and no more? Why?
But counting our blessings was what was called for, not being concerned about the whys of it. So I filled the arrow dispenser − an ingenious gadget created by Highlund mages, which automatically positioned a number of arrows ready for release − with the last of my arrows from my quiver and prepared for the final assault of this flight.
At first everything went better than expected, as there was no more fire. But out of nowhere came a blast of wind. It caught Storm's wings. She was flying on the outer edge of our V. Several in front and behind her were also caught by it. I saw Zem scrambling to hold on while Storm fought to right herself. The rest of us moved to avoid the struggling creatures. Thankfully, Spot knew what to do, because I wasn't paying attention. All I saw was Zem.
His gaze sought and found mine as he began to fall. The love he felt for me was written in those dark eyes, as was his terror. My heart was a lump in my throat so big I couldn't swallow past it. Every interminable moment I watched him plummet down into the melee below, I tried to swallow. And couldn't. I was choking on my heart. Suffocating!
Then sense prevailed. We had been low, no more than three strides above the ground. It was possible he could survive a fall like that. Calun had. But if he was injured, he'd be an easy target for the enemy.
Without thinking it through, I took Spot out of formation and headed for the place he'd gone down. Lightning blasts were hitting the area around where he'd fallen, but not on it. That would be Airsha keeping the battle away from our downed man.
I just prayed I didn't get caught by one of the blasts. Spot came in even lower than we'd trained to do, his wings almost touching the heads of the fighting men below him. When I saw where Zem went down, I jumped from my airling's back and tumbled toward the ground. Just before I hit, I folded my limbs in tight to my body, as Airsha had taught me, and rolled into the fall. The impact was not as great as it would have been had I hit any other way.
But the impact was still jarring, and it took me valuable seconds to gain my feet. Once I did, I had to keep to them while the push and shove of the fighting men around me threatened to send me flying. And not in a good airling-flying way. Sharp swords swiped the air close to me, and one tip caught the front of my vest and tunic, slashing them with a long cut that luckily didn't reach my skin.
I paid none of it any attention. Getting to Zem was all that mattered. Defending him was all that mattered. For too long I searched through the legs for my downed friend. There were so many fallen men. Soldiers were tripping and climbing over them, in their attempt to keep fighting any foe still standing. I saw severed limbs and even a head, but fought back the gall that rose in response. This was no time to be sick.
I saw him then, struggling to rise from a heap of bodies he'd landed on. Had he taken those men down with him when he fell or had they already fallen before he landed on them? My heart dropped out of my throat, back into its rightful place, and I pushed harder to reach him. Any moment some enemy sword might catch him unawares. I needed to be there to stop it.
But Zem was recovering quickly and shifting fully into his warrior magic. I saw him strike out at a red tunic nearby, and the man collapsed. His green-vested opponent looked momentarily surprised by the reprieve, but then nodded at Zem and resumed his attack on another red tunic.
How I managed to get to him without being struck, I don't know. I was paying no attention to anything but Zem. As I reached him, and he registered who I was, I saw disbelief and fury in his eyes. In that instant he knew what I'd done, and he was as mad as a horreybug about it.
But there was no time for recriminations. Zem reached down into the pile of bodies and withdrew a sword. He threw it to me and I caught it deftly. Once more he rummaged hastily through the pile and came up with another for himself.
Airsha had taught us how to fight with a partner. The biggest danger in close-quarter fighting like this was from an attack from behind. If you kept a comrade at your back, you could put all your attention on opponents to the front.
Without conscious thought, Zem and I assumed the back-to-back position. I was just so grateful he seemed uninjured. So grateful he was alive. And I was determined to keep him that way. And myself − if I could manage it.
The first sword came at me from above. I lifted mine to block and deflect it. The vibration, as steel hit steel, ran right down my arm and into my body.
My opponent was bigger and stronger than me, and I'd deflected a little at the very last moment so as not to take the full force of the blow. It was also enough to throw my opponent off balance. He'd expected to crash right through my defences and cut me in two. I was just a lad, after all.
But the move surprised him, and he lost his footing. I kicked out, catching him in the jaw as he started to fall and sending him flying backwards into other fighters, who trampled him underfoot.
I wanted to know how Zem was doing, but I daren
't look around. He was still there behind me, that much I knew, probably moving with the speed and grace his magic gave him. Right then, I wished I had his magic.
For a long time we fought like that, dealing with every red opponent who chose to take us on. By the time the battle began to ebb, I was shocked to realise we were still standing. I had blood all over me, cuts and bruises I knew would hurt later, but I was still standing. And so was Zem.
But neither of us dropped our guard until the last of the Godling's men around us had dropped their swords and lifted their arms in defeat.
Hardly believing we'd survived, I spun around to face Zem. He looked nothing like the lad I knew. This was a man, blooded and filled with warrior's fire. It took a moment for that fire to quell and for him to even recognise me. When he did, he fell into my arms and we hugged as if we'd never expected to do it again.
Pulling away a little, Zem looked down into my face. "You came back for me, didn't you?"
I nodded and shrugged, knowing what was to come.
"Of all the stupid, harebrained things to do. Didn't you think I could look after myself? Didn't you remember I have magic that makes me a better fighter than any of these barely-trained fools? Did you really think you could do more than just get in my way?!" he yelled, shaking me a little as he ripped into me.
I just stood there taking it, a soft smile on my face. It was just so good to see him alive. I didn't care about the rest.
It must have registered that I was not being dutifully cowed by his fury, because he stopped and shook his head, amusement replacing anger.
