The Unforgiven

by A. Katie Rose

  “But – she died. I watched her die.”

  Padraig sniffed, scowling. “A piss-poor healer you are, can’t distinguish unconsciousness from death. I gave her enough healing to keep her alive, but Malik saved her life. Thank him, if you will. Ilirri finished the task, and healed her completely.”

  Kiera crashed through Centaurs and horses, kicked her way past cursing Minotaurs and sent Griffins hurtling into the night sky like dislocated pigeons. Charging past Roidan’s stiff guard, her heels missed Muljier by a fraction, and forced a startled curse from Chief Ba’al’amawer. Leaning on Padraig, I smiled through my pain as Kiera dropped her muzzle in my hands.

  “Nice horse, what?” Roidan commented, his tone dry. “Vanyar, you’re stealing my thunder. Quiet that mare, now, and pay attention.”

  I buried my face in Kiera’s heavy mane, breathing in her scent, her living, heart-beating, essence. She’s alive! The weight I didn’t know was there lifted from me, like a passing thundercloud crossing the sun before the light emerges, triumphant.

  Kiera snorted down my neck, nickering, stamping, with her muzzle digging into my shoulder.

  “Leave off,” Padraig muttered, pushing her away. “You’ll kill him, dammit. He’s not too keen on his feet, like.”

  Crooning under his breath, Malik coaxed her a few steps away from me, his arm over her neck. She suffered herself to be led away, her tail swinging from side to side. Not liking the distance from me, but trusting in Malik’s good sense, Kiera stood quiet. Occasionally nibbling on the sparse highland grass, my lady watched me with dark liquid eyes as Malik stroked her neck.

  “Oh, good,” King Roidan said, rubbing his hands together. “Vanyar, consider selling that mare to me, will you? Jolly good. She’ll improve my stock no end.”

  “I love you, Your Majesty,” I replied, smiling. “But my answer is no.”

  “The buffoon.” Roidan sniffed. “Won’t sell his horse to his King. Clan Chief, why is that idiot still alive?”

  “We’re merely awaiting the royal signal, Your Majesty,” Ba’al’amawer intoned, his hands on the chain.

  “Great good gods, hang him already.”

  Per his King’s command, Raga had wrapped the chain around Gaear’s neck several times, yet stood behind the still-weeping, convicted traitor. Over the stout branch above, the chain hung loose and ready. Ba’al’amawer backed away, Muljier at his shoulder, the chain loose in his grip. At Roidan’s signal, he’d haul with his considerable strength and lift Gaear, strangling, high above the ground.

  Roidan’s golden Centaur mount swung toward the self-confessed felon, bringing Roidan closer to Gaear. “Any last words, traitor?” Roidan asked, his tone pleasant. “I’ll record them for posterity, of course.”

  Gaear merely cursed, still weeping.

  “Not what I’d expect, but as you wish. Clan Chief.”

  Ba’al’amawer hauled on the chain, using every considerable bull strength he possessed. Gaear flew from a standing position on the ground to two rods above the ground in less than a second. His legs kicked and danced, his face changing from pale ocher to dark blue. Slowly strangling on the chain around his neck, my Clansman paid dearly for the money he earned. In selling Atani deaths for illicit gold, Gaear died for his loyalty to the wrong side.

  May the red witch burn for this treachery, I thought, watching as Gaear slowly stilled, hanging by his neck, his face turning from blue to black. Only his feet twitched as his life sped into the aether, his soul now judged by those that kept score. If the gods will have mercy on you, I thought, then let their mercy be done.

  The pewter collar, still clasping his purple neck, gleamed dully in the red-orange glare of the fire and torches. Although caught between his flesh and the chain, it suffered not one scratch upon its cold surface. One day, I mused, entranced by it, I’ll learn its secrets. Perhaps Malik would teach them to me. After all, I’m no longer a hated criminal.

  “Malik.”

  The King’s voice roused me, though turning my head proved a difficult task indeed.

  “Sire, I’m on it. Padraig, lay him down. Windy, get Sky Dancer out of my way, I don’t care how you do it. Where’s my kit? Dammit, I asked for – right, set it down. Yes, there.”

  I drifted, my eyes on the stars. I fancied Gaear up there, though why he’d smile down on me I’d no idea. My world spun as Malik rested his hand on my brow, calling for this, for that, for water, for the gods’ blessing. Without Iyumi, I am nothing. I am a husk of what I once was, an empty shell, awaiting someone to fill me.

  The stars spun wild, out of control. I cried aloud, a name, a face, yearning, reaching. I missed her by yards, rods, miles, her face receding from me. Darkness fell completely when his hand shut my eyes, but the spinning refused to relent. My head whirled, my gut along with it. The agony of my broken chest rose on a high crescendo and I think I screamed along with it.

  Under Malik’s power, I blacked out.

  How does one hide an invading army?

  If one were a tactical genius, such as His Majesty King Roidan, one might follow the intricate mountain passes and valleys, hugging the terrain as one embraces a long-lost brother. By creeping like a louse across a lady’s hat, the aforementioned King might conceal the approach of Minotaurs, Centaurs and cavalry soldiers. He might utilize those unique flying creatures known as Griffins to fly high and spy out potential trouble, such as lone farmsteads, a passing patrol, or a merchant hastening his way to market. Such a genius might also throw those deliciously deceitful creatures known as Shape-Shifters to spy out the land. Who knew what flew, crawled, leaped, bound, stalked or wriggled in the mud might be in truth a spy for the King.

  If magic couldn’t diffuse the situation, force of arms did. While many Raithin Mawrn fell prey to the magics used upon them by the Bryn’Cairdhans invading their land, they’d no knowledge of it. If magic didn’t work, they died. Thus, no word of the invasion reached the sensitive ears of King Finian. He trusted in the protection of the mountains surrounding his castle and his country, never realizing how they might betray him.

  By exploiting such creatures, His Majesty guided his royal Weksan’Atan forces across the Shin’Eah Mountains, undetected by the Raithin Mawrn or their King. Due to His Majesty’s sheer audacity and determination, the Atan army stood high above the gates of Castle Salagh in the darkness before the dawn. This day, foreseen long ago, the sun and the moon joined in the sky. The portent of things to come. The time of the prophecy.

  Concealed within a curved arm of a hillock, less than a league from Castle Salagh and its surrounding town, King Roidan frowned. Mounted aboard his loyal Centaur, he peered below, his fist cupped in a circle as his magic brought every sight from far away up close and personal. Following his example, I studied the silent town where nothing moved and only the street lamps were lit at this early hour. The town surrounded the castle’s high walls, looking much like chicks gathered under their mother’s wings. Though I saw no guards on the walls, I knew that meant little. Even with magic, I’d easily miss seeing black-cloaked men in the dark.

  I bit my lower lip, thoughtful, considering the light that burned in the window of the high north-side tower. It gleamed red-orange, indicating a fire rather than the yellowish glow of a tallow candle or oil lamp. Someone built a hearth fire up there.

  “Now, boys and girls,” Roidan said, lowering his fist. “What am I looking at?”

  “Castle Salagh, Your Majesty,” perked a bright voice from our rear.

  I rolled my eyes as Malik sighed heavily, shaking his head. Green as grass, I thought.

  Roidan snorted softly and glanced over his shoulder, briefly. “I was hoping for a bit more intel than that,” he commented. “Does anyone have more to contribute?”

  “The town itself has few arms and fewer trained men to wield them,” I said, sitting Kiera to Roidan’s left. “It’s comprised of merchants, a few nobles and many, many poor peasants. Finian isn’t known for his generosity toward his people. He doesn’t t
rust them, thus they can’t rebel against him if they’re ignorant and weaponless.

  “For the time being, the town can be ignored. Sire, the greatest threat will come from the four towers. At the four corners: east, west, north and south. Each are guarded by well-trained soldiers armed with bows and cross-bows. At least twenty to a tower. The parapets are also guarded, but have only a few men to walk them. They are also armed with cross-bows.”

  His Majesty eyed me sidelong. “Someone has done his homework. What else do I need to know?”

  Malik’s long finger pointed out and down. “There are also two heavily guarded gates, my liege. We cannot enter unless we can lower the drawbridges. A deep moat surrounds the castle and unless we dive in and murder all the reptiles within them, we cannot swim it. We must have those gates up and the drawbridges down. They are the key to our success. Without them, we fail.”

  “Give me a half hour, Majesty,” Chief Ba’al’amawer rumbled, at Roidan’s left shoulder. “I’ll have those bridges down.”

  Roidan held up his hand, stilling us all. “You’ll have your chance, Clan Chief,” he muttered, frowning. “Vanyar, you know where she is. Don’t you?”

  I knew the she of whom he spoke, and it wasn’t Iyumi. I didn’t blink. I pointed. “There, sire. The north tower where she sits beside her fire, awaiting Flynn and his prisoners. Like a spider in her web, plotting.”

  Roidan sat back, smiling. “You see why I like this boy, Malik? I told you a long time ago he had quality.”

  “I’m so very glad I took your advice, sire,” Malik replied, his tone neutral.

  “Of course you do,” Roidan commented. “We’d all be in deep doo-doo if you hadn’t.”

  “It’s called –”

  “‘Shit’, yes, I know, Malik. Stop correcting me, will you?”

  “Whatever, sire.”

  “My liege,” I said, my tone low and urgent. “We’re behind Flynn by only minutes. We’ve been hard on his heels for the last couple days, I know he’s only just arrived at the castle. If the Duchess must sacrifice the baby at the moment both the sun and moon join –”

  “I know, son.” Roidan replied, his grizzled expression set and grim. “We’ve less than an hour. The sun and moon will rise together at dawn.”

  The King’s hand gripped my shoulder, hard. “You’re my hand, here, Van. I’m relying on you, on your talents, your unique skills. Will you lead the Griffins in an attack on those towers?”

  I dipped my brow. “It’s my honor, sire.”

  Roidan suddenly frowned. “I gave you back your sword, hadn’t I? Tell me I did, for if I hadn’t, I bloody well lost it.”

  I grinned and patted my hip. “Here where it belongs, my liege.”

  “Jolly good. Clan Chief, are your Minotaurs ready?”

  “Ready and able, Your Majesty.”

  “When Vanyar and the Griffins take the towers, you and your troops must seize those gates. The Griffins will bring the bridges down, Ba’al’amawer, but they must stay down. You understand?”

  “We will keep those gates secure, sire, or we’ll die trying.”

  “If you must die, my old friend, die after those gates have been secured. Are we clear?”

  That old Minotaur bastard actually grinned, his bovine lips skinned back from his heavy teeth. “Command those flying kitties to kill the troopers inside and lower the gates. Then we’ll see who can take a castle by storm.”

  “Malik.”

  Roidan’s hand fell onto Malik’s arm. “Once the Griffins kill the guards and the Minotaurs seize the gates, will you ride with me?”

  Malik found a rare grin that actually stretched his facial muscles. “With pleasure, my King. To hell and beyond.”

  “Remember, all,” Roidan said, his voice raised to his troops. “We target the north tower of the castle. My daughter is there, and the prophetic child with her. Both must survive if we, as a nation, are to remain free from the hell bitch’s yoke. If she wins, we all lose, right down to the smallest serf child. We fight, now, for not just our liberty, but for our very lives. And for the lives of whom we love. We may die now, Atani soldiers, to a man. We may die here, on foreign soil, as interlopers and fiends. Here, we are the enemy, not the savior. Our blood feeds their offspring. But if we are successful, our deaths mean our families will live on in peace and prosperity. What do we fight for if not for that?”

  Malik raise his fist high. “I fight for my King and for Iyumi. I will die, here and now, for her life and that of that child. Who’s with me?”

  “I am.”

  My fist popped up seconds before hundreds of others. No voice raised to alert the enemy to our presence, but none failed to show their allegiance in silence. Their raised fists shadowed mine. I may have been first, but Roidan’s smile didn’t recognize me, but instead fell upon all those who swore their loyalty and their vengeance upon those who dared lay hands upon She Who Hears. The King’s daughter. The gods’ voice. The lady I loved.

  “Captain Vanyar.”

  I stiffened my spine although he never looked at me.

  “Lead them to her,” he said, his face smiling as tears stood within his eyes. “Bring her home to me. She’s all I have left in this mad, crazy world. You love her, as I do. I need you.”

  I crossed my right arm over my chest, my chin dropping. Your will, sire. Sliding down from Kiera’s back, I took a moment to slide my hand surreptitiously down her face. She lipped my cheek, her eyes bright.

  “You sure you won’t sell her to me?” Roidan asked, his eyes livid as they danced across my girl.

  I grinned. “Ask for my soul, Your Majesty, you have it. But ask for my horse –”

  “Never.”

  Malik’s voice from my right completed what I hadn’t said. “Sire, you know better.”

  Roidan turned away, his mouth frowning but his eyes laughing. “I know. Don’t part a good horse from his human. Or hers, for that matter. But still –”

  “Majesty.”

  “I know, dammit. Chill, will you? Malik, you seriously need a vacation. Remind me after we kill the witch and retrieve my daughter, all right?”

  “Of course, sire.”

  “Captain Vanyar?”

  “Daughter, retrieved. Red Bitch, dead. Malik, vacation. Got it.”

  “Good man. Always could count on you. Now, why are you still here?”

  “I’m gone, my liege.”

  Stalking to a relatively open spot near the line of Minotaurs, I turned my face upward, into the darkness.

  “Windy,” I snapped. “Sky Dancer.”

  Without much room to land, both circled low overhead, beaks pointed down as they eyed me from a dozen rods up. “Right here, Van,” Windy said. “Er, sir, rather.”

  “So much for military discipline,” Roidan sighed, but his face smiled gently.

  “Find the flight leaders. Lightning Fork, Swift Wing and Storm Cloud, bring them to me.”

  “Where will you be?” Sky Dancer asked, her beak angled down to see me better.

  I grinned. “Right here.”

  As the pair winged high, out of sight, I saluted the King once more. “Sire. Might I respectfully suggest you remain here, with your guard?”

  He scowled. “Are you suggesting I skulk out of sight like a coward, First Captain? That I refrain from leading my warriors into battle in person?”

  I met his blue eyes and smiled. “Yes.”

  “Nice try,” he snapped. “But forget it. I haven’t forgotten how to wield a sword, damn your eyes. You find my daughter and I’ll do the rest. Grow some bloody wings, First Captain.”

  “My liege.”

  I leaped into the air and changed. My heavy wingbeats tossed Roidan’s and Malik’s hair into their eyes as I rose, ponderously at first, then with more grace and power. Catching a thermal, I rose higher, my huge wings beating steadily as those below me retreated into the darkness. I glanced down, between my shoulders, and called out. “Keep him safe, Malik. He’s the only King we’ve got.”<
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  “Mind your own business, Van,” Malik snapped. “I’ll mind mine. Take out those guards on the walls and the gates.”

  “Your request is my command, Lord Captain Commander,” I answered, circling higher. “I’ll signal when we’ve neutralized the troops.”

  Coasting upon the early mountain air, I found five Griffins winging toward me. Unlike a kestrel, a Griffin couldn’t hover. Rather than try, I tightened my circle. Like a funnel, high above the mountaintop where Roidan and Malik planned their attack, we five Griffins flew about one another, rising higher and higher until the army below were but specs in the darkness.

  “Commanders,” I said, my voice terse. “Assign me five from each of your units. Storm Cloud, you take the south and east walls. Eliminate anything moving. Lightning Fork, yours are the north and west. Swift Wing, you seize the south gate. I’ll take the north. Once you drop the bridge, signal with a fire shot.

  “Lieutenants Sky Dancer and Wind Warrior are with me. Once the walls are ours and the bridges down, protect the Minotaurs and the cavalry units. Do not, under any circumstances, allow Finian’s men to retake the bridges. If the bridges rise, our beloved She Who Hears and the prophetic child will die under the knife of the Red Bitch. I’m sure I don’t need to remind you of the fate we all face should that happen.”

  “You don’t, First Captain,” Storm Cloud replied. “We’ll take the walls.”

  “What if Finian has an army shut behind those gates?” Lightning Fork asked. “His Majesty will ride into a trap.”

  “What if he does?” I replied, stretching my beak into a grin. “Are we not Atan, lads? Do we not strike from above, in the dark, as the angels from heaven do? Can any army of human soldiers withstand the might of Griffins, Minotaurs, Shifters and our own King? Please, tell me the truth here.”

  “My apologies, First Captain,” Lightning Fork answered, a grin in his tone. “I forget myself, sometimes.”

  “He hasn’t an army down there, Commanders,” Sky Dancer said, circling at my right flank. “Finian has but minions. He dismissed his standing army years ago, thinking them useless and unnecessary. He posts guards on Salagh’s walls, but they’ve grown careless over the years. They lack training, discipline, often falling asleep at their posts. While the real soldiers plow fields, his ‘protectors’ are little more than swords for hire. They owe their allegiance to gold and nothing more.”