by Billy Wong
"How?"
She grinned. "Do like I always used to. Kill their leaders!"
The princess' expression changed for once, mixing wide-eyed incredulity with her typical anger as she snapped, "What kind of fool are you?! Hard enough to stay alive, but to pick your enemies when your army's on the run?"
"I've gone after leaders without help at my side. It'll be easier together." In earlier wars, Rose had favored charging deep into the enemy ranks, fighting surrounded and cutting swaths through armies while she sought out the strongest foes. Though it'd been years since, she was still young and no less strong. Besides, there was little choice.
Danica sighed. "Fine, can't let you take all the credit. Don't get me killed."
Praying for her allies to hold out a bit longer, Rose began to wade through the enemy with the princess, the pair leaving a trail of dead men and horses as they chased shouted commands, waving banners, ornate armor, and anything else that might indicate a leader. She soon found herself separated from her partner. Regaining sight of Danica, she realized the woman no longer paid her any heed, but instead followed her own urges as to who to attack in her battle-frenzy.
Danica hissed and cursed as she received blows, but Rose noted thankfully that she seemed little more affected by flesh wounds than herself. The Fanteian attack slowed, and Rose knew their efforts were making headway though she had to do most of the actual officer-slaying herself. Suddenly, she heard Danica gasp. She turned to see a sword being withdrawn from below the princess' armpit, and her begin to slump down. Rose felt a pang of sympathy when she tried to cry out, but proved only able to gurgle while blood bubbled up her throat. Danica collapsed, frantically clutching at the wound.
Rose turned to the one who had delivered the terrible blow. A tall mounted man dressed in drab gray light plate, whose face resembled Regis' in the thin nose and sharp cheekbones, returned her gaze with apparent disinterest. He must have been stronger than he looked, for though he was not very thick despite wide shoulders, he waved his five-foot serrated sword about without effort.
She raised her own blade. "You must be pretty good, to have done that to her."
"I am the highest servant of the war god himself," he said, and spurred his horse forward. His massive sword crashed down again and again, jarring her arms with the impact of an avalanche, and deflected her return strokes steadily. He impressed her with his speed and skill, though the fact he attacked from above also played in his favor.
"You might be as good as the emperor," she said. "But I never heard of you, I don't think."
The man seemed unsurprised by her ignorance. "I'm Julian, his brother. I don't usually fight in his wars, but this one is an exception."
Rose didn't ask why, but ducked aside from his next slash and chopped into his horse's foreleg. The handsome steed whinnied and fell, dying as blood pumped out of the severed limb. Its rider leapt from the saddle, landing easily on his feet with a downward slash she took on her shield. He continued his attack, darting back and forth on occasion perhaps in an attempt to throw her off. But she'd seen this before. Julian was still strong and fast on foot, but Rose timed his advance to land a hard blow on his small shield which unbalanced him and crunched through to wound his forearm. She followed up with a shield smash, knocking him to the ground.
He quickly regained his feet and walked forward as if to resume the fight. All of a sudden, he darted left to grab hold of a fleeing, riderless Fanteian horse. He threw himself onto the steed and sped away. Rose threw a dropped spear at him that missed and sighed as she watched another enemy royal escape. She turned to aid Danica, hoping the princess was only gravely injured and not dead. But she had vanished from sight, though the amount of blood on the dirt where she'd fallen boded poorly for her health. Rose chided herself for her inattentiveness. She should have kept an eye on Danica while she was being spirited away, if that was indeed what'd happened.
#
Rose and Danica's efforts against the Fanteian leadership had done much good for the Terlonians, as they managed to escape into the forest without taking excessive casualties from the now disorganized enemy cavalry. Rose also felt glad Sean had survived, though she worried about Gregor's reaction to his daughter's disappearance. Though she'd looked for the princess on the battlefield for some time, she couldn't find her before her allies left, and was forced to give up the search before being swamped by too many foes. The king had seemed distraught to even think of ill befalling Danica, and now she was missing and quite possibly dead. Would he blame Rose? She feared so; after all, she had suggested taking the stand against the Fanteians.
She already noticed angry stares directed her way, and knew that some of the men faulted her for bringing them into the losing battle they'd just fought. She understood their frustration and grief at lost friends, but didn't think her decision had been wrong this time. The army's efforts had assured the more defenseless refugees the chance to get to relative safety, and also struck the Fanteians a heavier blow than they likely could have on an open battlefield. But in the heat of the moment, the pain of loss was more immediate than the knowledge of less proximal success, and not all could see the bigger picture. Rose herself hadn't always seen it in similar situations in the past.
Now that the fight was over and pursuit did not seem imminent, Rose began to pull out the crossbow bolts and spearheads which had pierced her armor. She grimaced as blood flowed from her torn flesh.
"Are you well?" Sean asked, voice soft with concern. "You're covered in wounds."
She shrugged, making pain course through her shoulders. "They're little more than scratches, by my standards. I'm more upset about losing Danica."
"I thought you didn't like her."
"She wasn't too bad. A stout ally, if nothing else. But what I'm really worried about is her father. I wish I knew if she's alive or dead. I hate mysteries."
Sean frowned. "I heard she got a nasty wound, that people usually don't survive."
"She's known for being really tough, though." Rose grinned. "Besides, how many terrible wounds have I endured?" But if Danica did live, where could she be, and what had happened to her after her fall?
#
Drake looked down at the body with a frown. The woman had indeed been tough, considering he'd tracked her for miles and hours since he saw her slay her pursuers who had chased her from the larger battle despite a mortal wound. But she'd finally collapsed after trying with her last strength to walk home, and now lay pale and still on the road stained with her own blood. Though he felt a twinge of sadness to see the broken shell of such a great warrior, Drake was also relieved that the war would soon be over, and he could go back home once his countrymen finished taking over Terlon. He was hardly soldier material, and every day here increased his chances of getting killed. He knelt to see what Princess Danica wore that would be worthwhile for him to take, for she had no need of material possessions anymore.
As Drake began to unfasten her gem-studded choker, he realized that somehow, she still lived. Her breathing sounded extremely faint, but it was there, and he wondered just how long her immense vitality could hold her spirit to suffer here. He figured to let her continue dying her slow death might be akin to torture, and drew his knife to mercifully end it. But when he tried to put it to her throat, her eyes popped open and she grabbed his wrist with a grip still strong despite the hideous wound in her ribcage.
"You will not," she told him simply, and began to push his hand back towards him. He tried to argue on his behalf, but scarcely got a word out before he felt incredible pain as his own knife buried itself in his throat—then nothing, ever again.
#
Danica staggered upright, gasping for air through the blood from her punctured lung, and swore she wouldn't die. Her country needed her, and that fat foreigner would hardly made a suitable replacement. Noticing her attacker's Fanteian dress, she sneered at his corpse. Why had this coward waited to take advantage of her weakness, instead of confronting her head on like
the last group who had nonetheless tried foolishly to rape her? Their actions gave her more evidence that all Fanteians were craven curs, not even worth the air they wasted. But she saw the terror in the dead young man's eyes, and somehow felt compelled to close them. She bent gingerly and was about to do so when she heard the footsteps of more than one person behind her.
She was still being chased? Danica gripped her halberd with both hands and thought to stand and fight, but realized that confronting multiple opponents in the open might be a bad idea in her condition. She started to limp away, but in her dizziness got her legs tangled up beneath herself and tripped. As she struggled weakly once more to her feet, leaning on her weapon for support, her four newest pursuers strode into view.
The brightly plumed officer at their head glanced at the dead youth at her feet and smirked. "Princess Danica. So you managed to survive a gang of thuggish brutes and a petty pickpocket. Good for you. But I'm smarter." She gritted her teeth as he signaled to the three bowmen behind him. "Shoot her."
The archers loosed. Danica batted aside two of their shafts with a swing of her halberd, but one got through, burying itself in her shoulder. "Shoot her," the officer repeated, and they shot again. Too pained to raise her arm for the moment, she dove aside and they missed. But landing on the ground sent pain shooting through her mangled body, and her vision blurred to the point of near blindness as she turned over so she could see her enemies. "Again," the officer said. She deflected one arrow this time, but two others pierced her thigh and upper chest. "Again."
Danica threw her halberd, splitting an archer's face in two. His comrades loosed, but she rolled aside while drawing her dirk. She threw, putting the sharp point through an eye into the brain behind it. The last bowman shot right at her face. She raised her arm to block, taking it through her forearm instead. With a shriek of rage, she shoved herself up and ran at him. His final arrow clipped her side, then her hands grasped his head and she broke his neck.
The officer still lived. The moment after she realized this, he ran up beside her and she felt his sword plunge into her stomach.
"Good," he spat into her ear as she wailed. "Put up a good fight. I'll be all the bigger a hero for it."
She headbutted him away, dragging the sword from her belly. Jaw set with stubborn determination, she raised a trembling arm to point threateningly at him. But then the pain became too much. She hugged herself with both arms, her face contorted with anguish, and collapsed, a sob finally escaping her proud lips.
Wiping his bloody nose, the officer advanced to stand over her while she rolled back and forth in pain. "Finally," he said with a crazed grin, and raised his sword.
#
The retreating Terlonian forces made their way to Polier. Now that the fighting was done, fatigue caught up with Rose, and in her exhaustion the sun seemed blindingly bright and food dull and tasteless. By the time King Gregor's summons came, she hardly felt bothered by the thought of what he would have to say, having already imagined it many times in her mind. She did still worry he might do something rash. But when she went to see him in the mayor's manor where he had taken residence for the time being, she found herself shocked by his first words to her.
Though his eyes glistened with tears of heartfelt grief and his shoulders slumped with despair, Gregor said, "Thank you, Rose. All of Terlon owes you a great deal."
Not knowing how to respond, she said quietly, "You're welcome."
"You can leave now. There's nothing more for you to do here."
It wasn't that Rose didn't want to leave, because she wished she could. She missed her husband, her kids, and her friends back home. But she asked with concern, "Will your country be okay? Can you handle the Fanteians from here on out?"
"No, Terlon is done for. My daughter, our champion, is dead." Rose didn't reply. She'd seen people—herself, especially—survive much worse, but Gregor was likely right. "Who will protect us now?"
"You still have an army, and a good one."
He shook his head. "My daughter was the nation's hope and glory. Without her, the army will lose its will, and be unable to put up more than token resistance against dread Regis. I might as well surrender before any more blood is spilled needlessly."
He was a wise king, and compassionate. But Rose could also see that he was a despondent one, his fighting spirit crushed by grief. She felt Terlon could still survive the war with Fanteia, and that its people weren't beyond a strong leader's ability to rally. Right now, though, Gregor was not such a leader, but a distraught father mourning the loss of his only child. She could hardly blame him; it was hard even to imagine how it'd feel if she lost one of her own children.
It was perhaps a conceited thought, but Rose imagined for a moment volunteering to take up Danica's role as Terlon's champion in battle. She had run off both of Fanteia's best fighters without great difficulty, and been instrumental in determining the outcome of every other war she'd fought in. If she'd been three years younger, she knew, she would have offered her continued help without much hesitation. But she had a family to take care of now, and a responsibility to the institution she helped found. The center she'd come here to try and expand, only to fail miserably. Finn and Derrick wouldn't be pleased, though they would understand it wasn't her fault.
Rose forced a smile. "Farewell, your majesty. I was happy to fight for you." Gregor wasn't the strongest king, but he was a good man. She just wished he wouldn't give up so easily! It just wasn't in her to keep her mouth shut, and she added, "Please don't surrender yet. Give yourself some time to think about it first. I can't imagine what it's like to lose a daughter, but I know sadness has a way of clouding the mind. It's a terrible thing to make a choice you'll regret in later years." Besides, if Danica did somehow survive, she'd be terribly mad at her father for giving up the kingdom.
"It's hopeless."
Her heart swelled with conviction as she replied, "I know it's cliche, but it's never hopeless."
"Maybe for you. My old heart's at the end of its strength." Somehow, his slumped shoulders dipped further.
"You're not even that old! Don't be such a coward." She didn't care if Gregor got angry at her; hell, that might bring back some of his fire.
"My people will die if they continue to resist."
"Some of them will, that's inevitable in war. But you still have many a stout warrior on your side. Would your people want to allow their enslavement by Fanteia without a fight?! She'd heard of how Regis treated his conquered enemies, like less than dirt.
His silence was more discouraging than any words. Rose turned to leave, a frustrated exhalation leaving her large frame. But she stopped halfway across the room and frowned. Leaving these disheartened people to fend for themselves just seemed wrong. At last she decided. She faced the king again.
"You say the people's spirit will break without your daughter to give them hope. I know what an inspiring champion can do for morale, and I'm sorry for your loss. But what if an even more famed warrior would fight in her stead?"
Chapter 4
Sean met Rose at the manor door, face full of mixed excitement and alarm. "Hey Rose, I had the most unreal dream!"
That was it? Dreams could be fun, or not, but hardly merited such enthusiastic sharing in her eyes given her less than giddy mood. She didn't enjoy having the burden of being another country's champion put on her, when she already didn't like playing that role for her own Kayland knowing she was far from capable of protecting everyone who looked to depend on her. But what else was there to do, let the nation die?
"In case you care," she said flatly, "I'm officially Terlon's champion now."
"That's nice. Maybe you'll play a big role in my destiny, then."
"What? Your destiny?" Then she smiled. "You're playing with me again, aren't you?"
"Maybe, maybe not. Like I was saying, I had a dream. It was really vivid, and I think it means something."
Rose folded her arms over her massive chest. "And what happened in your dream?
"
He explained almost too quickly for her to follow. "There was a voice that said something about a young man with an axe on his neck breaking the war god's grasp. Remember, you told me my birthmark was an axe, even though my mom says otherwise. Then I saw a huge figure obscured in darkness, with a long weapon in his hand. Regis? And an inferno appeared around him, surrounding him and giving him nowhere to run. And he cringed in fear, and the flames closed in and burned him into nothing. And somehow, I knew I was the inferno, the flames were mine."
"So," she concluded, "you think you're destined to defeat Regis."
"Yeah, I guess."
She burst into laughter. She wasn't usually one to make fun of other people's beliefs, but this! "Sean, come on. You're no terrible fighter, but I have to say Regis is much, much better. Unless you somehow get really, really lucky..."
"Or fated," he continued for her.
She turned serious and said, "Please don't do anything stupid on account of this. It'd be a terrible waste to die over delusions of grandeur. Leave the likes of Regis to me and Danica, if she ever comes back."
"I know. I'm not going to seek a fight with him just because of a dream. If it's my fate, it'll happen; I don't have to go out of my way to grab it. Who knows, maybe you'll bring him down and I end up giving him the last blow."
"Sure, maybe, if you keep being as alert as you have been." He had shown admirable awareness helping meet the cavalry charge after leaving the pass. "Though, did you say your dream called Regis a war god? Ha! He's no god. I sent him scurrying, twice!"
Sean grinned. "Yes, you did. Maybe we should start calling you the goddess of war!"
More like the goddess of failing to protect friends and getting hurt, she mused for a moment, but tried to push the thought aside. Right now at least, everything was going... not terribly bad, yet. "I'm no goddess, but if I was, I'd rather be one of peace than war. Sounds odd coming from me, I know."
