Memory of War

by Michelle Lynn

  Her servant had already retrieved her mare. Bella snorted and kicked as the young man saddled her. Marissa shook her head at the beast’s eagerness.

  “Hey, girl,” she cooed, patting the mare’s neck. “We’ll be off soon enough.” She strapped her bow to her back and raised her eyes to the horizon. The village lay just over the hills. Calis promised her they’d avoid it and aim directly for the army.

  “Ri!” Lorelai shouted as she sprinted through the crowd of soldiers and horses.

  Marissa turned to find her father not far behind Lorelai. Lorelai latched her arms around her legs.

  “Please come back, Ri.”

  Marissa struggled to bend in her battle gear, but she did her best to meet the girl’s eyes. “I will. I promise you.”

  Her father reached them. “Lorelai, your uncle is seeking you.”

  The girl made a face and ran off.

  “Are you not joining us in battle, Father?” Marissa noted his lack of armor.

  His face fell. “The king will not allow me or Briggs anywhere near the battle.”

  “Isn’t Briggs a prisoner?”

  Ramsey smiled. “No one imprisons Briggs Villard if he doesn’t allow it. The Tri-Gard cannot be put in danger, and the king doesn’t want to risk us falling into Dreach-Sciene’s hands.”

  She leaned closer to him. “Wouldn’t you be safer on that side of the war?”

  “The king is a very powerful man. I could not leave no matter how much I wished it.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “Did Calis speak with you?”

  She nodded wordlessly.

  “I thought about it all night. You cannot marry him, daughter. You think you know him, but the things I have seen … he’s dangerous. I want you to listen to me very closely and don’t breathe a word of this to anyone. Dreach-Dhoun is on a very dark path. This war will not end well for us Kanes. You must escape.”

  Her eyes snapped to his. “Why?”

  “Do you trust your old man?”

  “You’re the only person in this world I trust.”

  “I am Tri-Gard. My travels have taken me into the far reaches of both Dreach-Sciene and Dreach-Dhoun. The king of Dreach-Sciene is a good man. A friend. If I cannot go to him, you must.”

  “They’ll know me as an enemy as soon as they see me.”

  “Show him this.” He gripped her hand, transferring a cold necklace into it before kissing the top of her head and disappearing as if he’d never been there at all.

  Opening her fingers slowly, she examined the golden pendant. On it was the depiction of a tree with knotted roots surrounded by four symbols. A tear leaked from her eye. The necklace matched the tattoo her father had on his arm, the mark of the third member of the Tri-Gard. Each had a tattoo that represented the three tenants of magical balance. Briggs was good magic. Lonara Stone was dark magic. Her father was earth magic.

  She quickly tied the necklace around her neck and tucked it beneath her chain mail. A roar went through the crowd as they mounted their steeds, and it sent a chill through her. These were her comrades. How could she leave them? How could she abandon her father to a life in Dreach-Dhoun? What would Calis do?

  Calis kicked his horse around to face his army, his father at his side. “Today is the day we win this war!” The troops cheered. There will be no mercy, no quarter given to any enemies. We want blood! By the time the sun is high in the sky, this battle will be over.”

  The soldiers around Marissa started chanting “Blood! Blood!” She jerked her head around to watch each man and woman in her unit take up the word.

  By the time Calis gave the order to move out, she was glad for it. As a general, she led the far-right flank of the cavalry. The foot soldiers would follow close behind.

  Calis and his father led them down into the valley, a stampede of bloodthirsty assailants. The chilled wind whipped Marissa’s hair around her face and she squinted into the rising sun.

  After a while, the village came into view through the dust kicked up by the horses. Guards ran through the streets sounding the alarm. Marissa waited for Calis to give the order to skirt the town and keep moving towards the army behind it.

  The order never came.

  The thud of hooves rumbled over the hillside. As they crashed onto the broken stone roads, villagers ran for cover.

  Calis’ voice boomed out, amplified by his magic. “Shields.”

  Marissa pulled up on Bela’s reins and held one hand out in front of her, realizing she’d forgotten to draw any magic from the earth that morning. She only had what she’d taken the night before. It would have to do.

  Her shield wrapped around her, protecting her from unwelcome magical blasts, but she’d need to drop it to use her own magic.

  A line of Dreach-Sciene soldiers appeared, hands raised as they threw every ounce of their power at the oncoming force.

  It bounced off their shields.

  “Now,” Calis yelled.

  Almost as one, the stampede of soldiers blasted their power at the enemy soldiers. It dropped them where they stood.

  Villagers cowered in their houses and Calis held up a hand to stop his troops. “Drag them out.”

  Marissa kicked her horse forward as the other soldiers went to carry out the order. “Calis, the army isn’t even here.”

  “These people aided the enemy, they must be punished.”

  “This is wrong. I thought we were going to battle, not to a massacre.”

  “Marissa, I don’t have time for your girlish fantasies. Go. You have men to lead.”

  A growl ripped from her throat and she kicked her horse around, catching sight of a soldier with a young boy in his grasp.

  “Release him,” she ordered.

  He didn’t even look at her, but he held the boy close to his chest. She couldn’t use her magic without hitting the child.

  In one movement, she tore the bow from her back and nocked an arrow. It released with a twang moments before hitting the soldier between the eyes. He collapsed on top of the boy, but Marissa’s attention was drawn to a woman’s screams.

  A soldier with his pants halfway down his thighs fell forward onto the woman with an arrow in his back.

  She spun Bella around and pushed out a pulse of magic to knock more soldiers away from their victims.

  Raising her gaze, she caught sight of Calis’ furious face. She was now the enemy.

  The boy from before ran to her horse and gazed up at her with fearful eyes. She leaned down and yanked him up onto the saddle before digging her heels into Bella’s flanks and taking off through the streets, shielding both herself and the boy from the soldiers now turning their magic on her. The further she rode, the weaker her power got. She needed more.

  Bella reared up suddenly and her helmet clattered to the ground below as Wren slid from the saddle and landed in a heap, unmoving.

  A soldier charged them and Marissa jumped from the saddle, pulling her blade to meet his. His magic pushed her back with a shock of electricity that pierced her shield and zipped along her skin in a torrent of pain.

  “Traitor,” the soldier growled. “You’d kill your own?”

  She narrowed her eyes. “Better than killing children.” Her eyes flicked to Wren, and her opponents gaze followed hers as his lip curled up.

  The ground began to shake, throwing her momentarily off balance. The Dreach-Sciene forces had arrived.

  Skillfully rotating her blade in her hands, she prepared for his attack. Her magic sputtered underneath her skin. She needed to find a patch of green earth to regain her strength. But it was too late for that.

  Light erupted from her opponent’s hand and she twisted out of the way to avoid the beam of power.

  An agitated grunt sounded low in his throat as he pulled his magic back and charged.

  Marissa Kane was a small woman, made of lean muscles and of short stature. She was not one to intimidate on sight. Those who knew nothing of her were at a distinct disadvantage.

  Because she’d won every f
ight since she was ten years old. Even against the prince.

  Using sword instead of magic was a gift to Marissa. Her mouth curved up as smacked his sword away with her own and spun, her hair flying out behind her.

  He came against as used every ounce of strength in a thrust to her abdomen. She jumped back.

  “You’ve got to do better than that.” She smirked.

  Her feet were her biggest asset. They could shift and spin rapidly to avoid her opponent’s wild cuts through the air.

  She stabbed forward, slicing through the gap in his chain mail at the arm. He cried out as deep red blood spurted from the wound. She expected him to take a step back and assess the wound, but instead, he sliced forward, his sword glancing off her thigh. Biting back a scream, she lunged forward.

  The soldier threw out his hand, and a blast of power rammed into her chest, lifting her into the air. Her body slammed into a nearby wall with a thud before crashing to the ground.

  She lifted her head just in time to see Wren plunge a knife into her attacker’s back. He collapsed, dead. “General Kane.” Several sets of footsteps ran towards her. “General, are you okay?”

  The voices sounded far off as she stared at the boy. He examined his own hands, eyes widening, before he took off running.

  Marissa wanted to tell him to wait. That she could protect him. But she couldn’t. Not when her men stood around her, completely unaware that she was now a traitor to the crown.

  The ringing in her ears began to abate and she looked into the faces she’d trained right alongside. These men weren’t just Dreach-Dhoun soldiers. They were her unit. Her friends. And leaving them would be the hardest thing of all.

  “Jenner,” she grumbled. “Help me up.”

  The man lifted her to her feet. “You’re hurt.”

  She touched the shallow wound on her thigh, her fingers coming away bloody and shrugged. “Where’s Bella?”

  Soldier Koran pointed behind the group. “That beast would never leave you, sir.”

  The third man present, Artemi, looked towards the far end of the street. “The Dreach-Sciene advance forces have arrived.”

  “I know.” With every step towards Bella, her leg ached. “I heard their horses.” She grimaced as she hauled herself on to Bella’s back. Her only chance was to get to the Dreach-Sciene lines. To reach their king.

  A man in the dark black and green colors of Dreach-Dhoun raced by them screaming at the top of his lungs, his voice amplified by magic. “The king is dead!”

  Marissa and her men shared alarmed looks. “Mount up, men. The people in this village are not the enemy that matters. We ride against the Dreach-Sciene forces.” Her face was a mask to hide her true feelings. If these men knew she’d killed some of their own, friends or not, they’d drag her to Calis’ feet.

  Her men mounted their horses, and the four of them joined the mad of cavalry riding towards the enemy. When she finally saw them, her stomach clenched. The advance force was small and the man leading them sat atop his great steed at the front, his long dark hair giving him a dangerous look.

  He raised his hands, and his soldiers followed his lead. Fireballs arced through the air, aiming straight for them. In no time at all, the herd of black-clad soldiers turned into a frenzied mob as they tried to dodge the fire. Few were able to hold onto their shields. Marissa didn’t even try to keep hers up as she jerked Bella to the side to avoid certain death.

  The average man or woman’s magic was weak. How were they doing this?

  She turned and kicked Bella to bull her way to the outside of the mob as the ground around them became alight with flames. A ring of fire encircled the riders, and they were stuck.

  Marissa’s breath came in gasps as she attempted to calm her frantic heart. Her eyes narrowed as she peered through the flames to the force on the other side. Where was Calis? Back safe in the village as his people go to die?

  It was then that it hit her. As the heat from the flames caused sweat to break out on her brow she realized why he’d been so focused on destroying the village. He knew they couldn’t beat the Dreach-Sciene army so he wanted to beat their people.

  Lines of soldiers appeared on the horizon as far as they could see. The rest of the Dreach-Sciene army had arrived.

  “Think we can jump them?” Jenner asked.

  “No need. Look.” She pointed to where the flames were shrinking and disappearing. “Now they’re ready to fight.”

  “After weakening our magic by forcing us to use our shields.”

  “Brilliant,” she whispered so no one else could hear.

  The Dreach-Dhoun foot soldiers appeared behind them and charged toward the opposing lines.

  The true battle had begun.

  * * *

  The fireballs drained every bit of magic Marcus had stored up, so he gripped his sword, knowing the men behind him would be able to make up for the power he lacked in the moment.

  The first soldier to reach the lines was his. He took him down with one slice of his sword.

  Each man, each woman, was faceless. Just tools of Dreach-Dhoun. That was how he had to see them. He knew his men. He knew many of their families. And he would kill for them even if it took everything he had.

  He barely saw them as, one after another, they fell. His sword dripped with blood, and the ground was littered with the dead from both sides. He fell back alongside his father.

  The king of Dreach-Sciene insisted on fighting with his men. Marcus had argued with him about it many times. His father was no longer young. But no one should be denied the chance to fight for what they love.

  Every single person in their army was there by choice. The kingdom had risen up to protect their home. They’d come for their king and their prince. They’d answered the call.

  That was why the king refused to stay in safety.

  And that was how a young man with curly dark hair soaked in sweat was able to engage the king in a fight.

  Marcus glanced to the side for only a moment before returning all his attention to the man trying to brain him with a heavy mace. He ducked and twisted out of the way.

  His father’s grunt sounded behind him and without looking, Marcus yanked an axe free and threw it hard at his father’s opponent. It struck the middle of the man’s chest and he crumpled to the ground.

  The spiked metal head of a mace swung in front of Marcus’ face, barely missing him. He jumped back, and the man continued his swing, crashing the weapon into the side of the king’s face.

  In the attacker’s moment of triumph, Marcus stabbed his sword through the man’s neck.

  The prince fell down beside his father, the battle raging on around them. But it only served as white noise.

  His father’s breaths were wet and slow. The side of his face was crushed inward, his eye destroyed and bits of bone and blood covering it.

  “No!” Marcus screamed, cradling his father’s head.

  The king’s breathing stuttered and died as his son looked on in despair.

  “The king,” someone gasped.

  Marcus peered up into the faces of Lords Coille and Yaro. Yaro knew his grief well. His own son had run off into the village before the Dreach-Dhoun forces arrived.

  “We must get him to safety.” Adrian Coille bent down to help lift him, but Marcus shook his head.

  “He’s dead. The king is dead.” He jumped to his feet and yanked the axe from the chest of the man who’d fought his father. Axe in one hand and sword in the other, he jumped back into the fight, his moves a flurry of activity.

  He was going to destroy them.

  Drech-Dhoun’s army seemed never-ending. There was always someone new to fight. His muscles screamed with each stab of his sword by the time the sun began to set but he didn’t quit.

  A healer rushed by him, ducking in and out of people battling to get to the wounded.

  No one had any magic left and the fight turned into a bloody clash of swords.

  An arrow flew by , sinking into the ches
t of a man behind him who was preparing to attack. Jerking his eyes around, he couldn’t find his mysterious savior.

  The man he was fighting used the momentary distraction to his advantage and Marcus screamed as the cold blade sliced through his leathers, biting into his side. He stumbled back, tripping over a rock and landing on his butt with spine-jarring impact. Pressing his hand to his side to staunch the flow of blood, he looked up at the man above him, ready for whatever came.

  His brother Drake would take the crown, and Marcus would die a hero on the same battlefield as his father. His father’s smashed face flashed through his mind. He’d deserved a better death. Removing his hand from his wound to let the blood escape, Marcus met the clear eyes of his killer. He didn’t look like a killer, only a soldier following orders.

  The man raised his sword. Marcus closed his eyes, but the blow never came. After what felt like an eternity, Marcus cracked his lids open. The man dropped his sword and stumbled to the side before his legs gave out beneath him and he fell face first onto the ground, an arrow protruding from his back.

  This time, Marcus’ savior didn’t disappear. The haze lifted from his eyes and a woman with pale skin and fiery hair slid down from her horse with a grace that awed him.

  His heart continued to hammer in his chest, unable to catch up to the fact that he hadn’t been killed.

  The woman crouched down in front of him, wincing slightly, and his eyes met her emerald ones. Her mouth moved, but he couldn’t hear anything she said.

  She shook her head and, for the first time, he saw the blood crusted into the long locks. She took his arm and pulled it over her shoulders to hoist him to his feet. His weak legs pushed up and she held on to him to keep him from wobbling.

  Her voice finally broke through. “Where are your healers located?”

  “Behind …” He coughed. “Behind the lines.”

  Why wouldn’t she know that? His gaze roamed down to her black tunic and he stopped. “You’re from Dreach-Dhoun.”

  Before she could answer, a voice was broadcast. Someone still had magic. “Retreat!”