by D N Meinster
As Doren, shoved his shield forward again, Yuurei half-spun and shifted away. Doren's shield slammed into the glass, and the entire body of the transport broke apart and sent glass raining on the crowds below.
Doren dropped and hugged the bottom disk, which remained airborne, and tried to get a look at Rikki as he clung on.
The glass in Rikki's cylinder seemed to be shattering every few seconds, but Rikki was repairing it with her magic right as it broke. M'dalla's flail would burst through it as she tried to land a hit on Rikki, or Rikki would shoot flames and other projectiles at the Roamer and miss, but no matter how much damage the glass took, it pieced itself back together instantaneously.
The spectacular sight caught Doren's attention for so long that by the time he peeked back to where he was going, the remains of his transport were flying into an open window.
Doren rolled off the disk and onto the ground as soon as he could. He took a few moments to catch his breath, relieved that he was now less likely to plummet to his death.
Rikki's cylinder came inside not long after, taking its place next to a row of other intact transports. She leapt out and scanned the area for her attacker. When she didn't see her, she made her way to Doren and helped him back on his feet.
Aros came in last, and he hopped out with a clawblade in each hand. When he didn't see their adversaries, his shoulders drooped and he said, "I never want to ride in one of those things again."
Rikki and Doren both gave him an exasperated glance.
"What?" he said. And then he raised his swords back to a more ready position.
"Now maybe we can do this properly," M'dalla said, twirling her flail. She and Yuurei were standing next to each other with their weapons drawn.
Doren gave them a half-smile before heaving his shield back and flinging it at the Roamers.
Chapter Six
A New King
Year One of the Dark Reign (1 D.R.)
It was not even two days since King Aergo's death, yet darkness had already consumed the world and despair became the norm in Ghumai. There was no joy among the survivors, nor hope among the exiles. All was lost, and no act of revolution or retribution could return the Five Kingdoms to their earlier state.
A particularly brutish gust of wind came in from the sea, dislodging tufts of auburn hair from Amelia's meticulously wrapped bun. She mindlessly fiddled with the loose strands as her light blue eyes stayed enraptured by Castle Tornis. The once-welcoming structure she had called home for her entire life now filled her with a sense of foreboding as she continued to stare. A beast had taken residence on the throne, and there was no magic which could undo the travesty.
They knew so little about Neanthal; only that his power and deceit were unmatched in all the land. Their numerous failures had been brought about by the flaws not only in their plans but by the weaknesses inherent in humanity. Aergo had done nothing to spurn the loyalty of guardians like Uterak or mages like Spira, yet they rejected him for this new king. Was it their unexpected departures that had, in the end, diminished the once-adroit battle-master's composure in the midst of war? It must have weighed on him, waking up every morning to find that another had left to join his enemy.
No, Amelia knew what had truly defeated Aergo, and it wasn't Neanthal. It was complacency. There had been too many decades of peace, and the King had forgotten how to lead a kingdom to war. That which had made him the greatest king had also led to his downfall.
He didn't look his age when he died. He was truly blessed by the Goddess. But beneath the ageless skin was an old man ready to give up the throne; an old man who could no longer recall the incredible tactics and long-term strategy that had won him the First Kingdom to begin with.
Another gust loosened the sand from the shore, sending enough particles airborne that Amelia was forced to turn away before she took a chafing dose to the face.
Amelia brushed the sand from her white dress and began to fade from the seaside. She wanted more time to reflect and to mourn, as did the rest of the survivors on the Twilight Isles. Unfortunately, whether they knew it or not, they were still at war. Either Neanthal would come for them, or they would have to attack him. It was only a matter a time, and they could not dawdle.
When she finished shifting, she was no longer on the beach but in the entryway of a red-bricked manor. It was the most spacious building on the Islands, and the royal family had taken up residence there in their exile. While it was less than their previous home, being only three stories and not even half as wide, it was the best they could possibly get in their current location. It once belonged to the Mayor of Twilight, a leader who was selected directly by the people that lived on the Islands. But the Twileans deferred to Aergo when he came to power, and they'd abandoned this home in symbolic submission to their new king.
It had been a dusty mess in ill repair when they arrived, but the surviving mages had made quick work of it, using their magic until it appeared newly constructed.
Surviving mages.
Amelia's heart fell as her mind brought forth the faces of those that were no longer with them; those whose deaths she was responsible for.
Hatswick had told her within hours of their escape. Cillian was dead as a result of their clash. Even after he had betrayed them and given in to sin, she still regretted the loss of life. Cillian had always been a self-interested man, which eventually cost him the trust of the King, but he was talented, and even charming when he wished to be. But it was the second loss that caused her the most heartache. Olley, the former Grand Mage, had been killed by her own hand.
She could fault Spira for it, which she certainly did, but it was Amelia's own magic that killed him. He did not deserve to die like that. He was a retired mage, whose abilities remained potent even as his body fell into decrepitude. The Tunsevs called on him time and again to serve, even after he left his position, and he was always willing to abide. To die under the control of another, as collateral damage, was a reprehensible way to go out.
Amelia shook the thoughts away, but her scowl remained. She took note of the nearby staircase and the empty rooms that dominated the first floor. They were so shaken by their current predicament that there was not even a guardian standing watch in the entryway. She stepped through the connected rooms, the floorboards squeaking under her feet, as she made her way to the back of the manor.
The dust and grime were gone, but the walls were still threadbare, in desperate need of a fresh coat of paint. The rugs and furniture had been cleaned up, but no one had tested the integrity of the couches or the wooden chairs. There was so much more to do, but there was one imperative above all others.
As Amelia strolled into the back room, and her eyes adjusted to the ever-present darkness that seemed to have gathered there, her face fell even further, though any anger was displaced by anguish. She gazed upon the deceased king, whose body had been laid out on a table since she took him from the battle. Every time she saw it, she was shocked all over again, still unable to fully comprehend that her beloved ruler was dead.
Queen Eloris was seated at his feet. She had changed into black upon their arrival and had not left his side since. The hours that passed as she sat there had transformed her, turning her remaining brown hairs white and taking all the color from her skin so that it matched her husband's. Her eyes were locked onto Aergo, like she was expecting him to wake up at any moment.
Amelia passed Rantiford, who was standing guard right inside the room, as she neared her. "My Queen," Amelia said, disturbing her for the first time since they came to the Islands. She reached out and gently placed her hand on the Queen's shoulder. "We can continue to mourn, but we can no longer stew in inaction."
"Why do you come to me?" Eloris asked, her voice hoarse and her focus clearly elsewhere.
"Prince Shine and Prince Slythe have not left their rooms. You have not left Aergo's side. Everyone on this Island is heartbroken and disoriented. Neanthal will come for us no matter our mood."
"Do not say that na
me to me!" Eloris barked. She turned to Amelia, bloodshot eyes suddenly filled with fury. "You can lead these people. Don't look to my family to fix things."
Amelia clenched her hand around her silver staff, and she momentarily considered using magic to get the Queen to comply. But she pushed the idea aside in favor of persuading her through conventional, and more complex, means. "Aergo was ready to give Shine the throne. Now there is no choice. Shine will be king."
"There is no throne," Eloris snapped.
"There is a usurper on our throne and the rightful heir is mere feet above us. He will be king, and he will take back what is his."
Eloris stood up, gazing straight into Amelia's eyes. "Grand Mage who failed to save our king. I will not put the life of my son in your hands. I will not risk his safety for some fool's errand. I will not let another Tunsev die so long as I live!" Bits of drool fell from her lips and sprayed Amelia as she screamed.
Amelia glowered and spun away from the Queen, whose distasteful outburst was clear evidence of her unwillingness to go forward. If Eloris could not be convinced of what needed to be done, then she would have to win over the Prince.
The stairs moaned and creaked as she climbed them, though her thoughts stayed on the Queen. She had always known Eloris to be a calm and reasonable woman, even during the early days of her husband's rule and the tensest days of the recent war. Even with Aergo's death, she had not anticipated anything resembling the encounter she had just experienced.
Slythe's sobs reached her ears as she went up the second staircase. The young Prince wasn't even ten years old, and he'd lost his father and his home. If only magic could cure the sorrow that permeated the manor, but that was beyond her capabilities.
She silently shuffled past the child's room and made her way to the farthest corner, where Shine had hidden himself away. Her knuckles tapped lightly on the door, and without waiting for an invitation, she burst in.
Shine was sitting up on the bed, staring aimlessly out the window, not even taking note of the Grand Mage as she approached. The door appeared to close of its own volition as she neared, and she cleared her throat several times to get the Prince's attention.
"I'm not deaf," Shine said, refusing to face her. His short silver hairs were sticking out every which way, and it was evident from the must in the room that he had not bathed in days.
"Do you know why I am here?" Amelia asked, preparing herself for another bitter reaction.
Shine finally looked at her, with eyes that were less despondent and more aware of the vastness of responsibility that awaited him. "My wife has the decency to let me be. Will you not even give me a deck to mourn?"
Amelia eased up on her staff, and the tensions throughout her body dissipated as she exhaled. Shine knew what was coming. He was ready. "The war goes on. Kytheras needs a leader."
"What do you expect us to do from here?"
Amelia directed her staff toward the window, which flew open in response. The cries of thousands of men floated through the air and bounced around the bedroom. "The people here need a purpose. Those we left behind need our help. There is much to do, my prince. We can wait around no longer."
"Tomorrow," Shine replied. "I promise you, tomorrow."
Amelia bowed her head, accepting Shine's wishes. "Your mother," she started.
"She will come around," he assured, and he returned his attention to the window.
Amelia said no more as she began to fade from the room.
The next morning, Amelia found herself waiting at the bottom of the manor's staircase. She had spent the dawn hours gathering the Kytherans that were unharmed and less shaken, and escorting them to the front of the residence. There would not be many witnesses, but she knew this ceremony had to be conducted in public. Something had to be done to counter the mounting despair and raise the confidence of the survivors, and there was no better option than what she had planned for today.
Amelia had put on a white frock with crisscrossing red stripes. When she heard the stairs start to creak, she hoped that Shine had changed into a more fitting outfit as well.
It was not the Prince who came down to the landing first, but the Queen. Eloris was no longer in black but had dressed in gold. In her arms were King Aergo's green jacket and his sword. She shot Amelia a nasty look, but there was no vile in her voice as she spoke. "He wanted to be buried in Terrastream. Can you preserve his body until we are able to fulfill his wishes?"
Amelia nodded and quickly wiped a tear from her eye before it fell. "As soon as we defeat Neanthal, it will be our first act."
Eloris said no more as she headed past Amelia and stepped outside.
Slythe was the next Tunsev to come sauntering down the staircase. He was the spitting image of Aergo, with flowing silver hair and tan, yet radiant, skin. But whereas Shine had his father's eyes, Slythe had his mother's. The young Prince was coated in layers of lime green, the elegant fabric twisting and turning as he came toward the Grand Mage.
"Where's mother?" he asked as he made it to the first floor.
"Outside already." Amelia pointed to the entrance.
Slythe sailed by, leaving Amelia alone once more.
The longer he took, the more she feared he had changed his mind. She had had second thoughts once herself, when Olley had decided to step down from his position as Grand Mage. Amelia was not even a season removed from her teenage years before word came to her that there was to be a new Grand Mage. Olley, her teacher and mentor, had been so impressed by her abilities, and recognized how far beyond himself she was, that he convinced the King to appoint her to his position. Amelia had rejected his assertions at first and nearly walked away from Castle Tornis for good. It was Olley that devoted hours to getting her to come around and accept. He had contended that the extent of her magic necessitated that it be used in service of the general public, not selfishly for her own benefit. To do that, she had a duty to become Grand Mage. Though reluctant, Amelia agreed and succeeded him. That was over a century ago. And now Olley was dead, because of her.
Shine did not take hours to convince. He was already halfway down the stairs when Amelia took note of him. His hairs were back in place, and he was wearing a thin layer of dark green clothing, in preparation for what was to come. His arm was wrapped around Narai, whose pale-yellow dress did not fit the occasion or the mood
"The rest of your family is already outside," Amelia relayed to them before they could ask.
"Then let's get this done," he said, and she led them to the doorway. "Have you done this before?" Shine asked before they opened the doors.
"Many times," Amelia said. "Including your father. This has actually been the longest period I've gone without doing it."
"Too bad we couldn't have made that record a little longer," Shine muttered.
The doors gradually opened with a wave of Amelia's staff, and the three of them stepped outside, onto the marble terrace that occupied the front of the manor. There were several white pillars off to the side, and a short set of stairs at the edge of the veranda. Hundreds of people filled the courtyard, taking refuge amongst the sands and coconut-bearing palm trees. There was little excitement in the crowd, and more a sense like they had an obligation to be there. Their eyes followed Shine as he made his way forward, to the very top of the stairs.
Amelia nodded at Hatswick, who was wearing a ridiculous yellow outfit, and Azzer, dressed in his traditional blue, as she passed them. They were the only two mages of age that were well enough to join them. The rest were still recovering from their injuries, most of which she herself had caused.
After she fell in line with Eloris and Slythe, she gazed out into the crowd. There was no need to silence them, as they were already unusually quiet. Shine was just steps ahead, taking in the sight of them as well.
Coronations were supposed to be joyous affairs, but there was no semblance of bliss in the atmosphere today. Perhaps they realized that there was another on the other side of the sea crowning himself as well. Neanthal
would call himself king in their absence, but the true heir would be on these islands, waiting for the proper moment to take his rightful place.
"King Aergo is gone," Amelia started. "But the ideals which he held for a lifetime stay with us. He dreamed of unity and peace, and made it so. Though we remain at war, we will always remember the man that gave us the best years Ghumai has ever experience. And we stay true to him today, by recognizing a new king." Her eyes moved onto the Prince. "Prince Shine, if you will."
Shine kneeled down and awaited the rest of the ceremony.
"Queen Eloris." Amelia let go of her staff, though it remained standing on its own, and held out her hands.
The Queen put Aergo's sword in one of her hands and his coat in the other.
Amelia tossed them both into the air, where they hovered between herself and Shine. "There is no crown. There is only responsibility. There are no riches, only people to care for. There are not five kingdoms. There is only one. Are you prepared to rule?"
Shine looked up at the Grand Mage. "I am."
Aergo's glistening green coat soared through the air and wrapped itself around Shine's torso. Aergo's sword fell from the air into Shine's grasp.
"Then rise as King Shine of Kytheras." That was all Amelia was supposed to say, but she was compelled to add a phrase; one that may give them all faith in this dark hour. "May the light of the Goddess point you true."
King Shine rose as the throng broke into applause. The thunderous clapping was so deafening that it may have been heard across the seas, in the bowels of Castle Tornis.
Amelia let herself smile for the first time in days. They were willing to believe. They were ready to hope.
Chapter Seven
Fire and Ice
M'dalla was garbed in the same yellow cloak that fit loosely on her body. No longer keen on hiding her identity, her hood was down, revealing her tawny complexion and deep black hair. With a slight jut of her wrist, she smacked the incoming shield with her flail, sending it back in Doren's direction.
