by J. E. Klimov
“I guess I owe you that. My name is Lief.”
Bence strained his biceps to pull Lief up. Every pound of this Tuuli was dead weight. “And what was her name?”
“Two.”
“Who?”
Hands on his hips, Lief answered again. “Two.”
“There are two of them?” Bence swiped his sword from the ground and brandished it.
“No.” Lief sighed. He pointed at the lifeless body. “Her name was Two.”
Bence pinched his nose. “What kind of name is that?”
“It’s because─”
Fists pounded against the entrance, followed by thudding from somewhere past the room. Lief threw him a panic-stricken expression. Stepping over Two’s body, Bence sided by the Tuuli.
“That’s… his army. The resurrected!” Lief’s voice wavered.
Bence kicked the corpse on the floor. “The damn woman screamed so loudly. Damn it to hell!” He locked eyes with Lief. “Tell me what I need to know before it’s too late.”
“There’s no time.”
Wood splintered. Bence’s biceps and forearms flexed as the unshakable temptation returned. Threats needed to be neutralized. In his peripheral vision, he caught Lief staring at his neck.
“Lief? Any suggestions?”
“I don’t know who you are, but your frightening ability to slay Two with just a gut feeling can only mean you are on the queen’s side. I hope I’m right.” He swung his arms wide, and an opal strung on his necklace glowed, generating a cyclone around them. Grimacing, he said, “Two has done something to me. I’m not as strong as I should be, but I’ll try to incapacitate as many as I can for you to escape.”
It dawned on Bence. This was Dante’s replacement. With a nod, he said, “Let’s do this.”
The front door blasted open. Bodies toppled over one another, trampling toward them. Men and women with translucent skin and blue veins charged with weapons cocked in position. “They killed Two! Execute the traitors,” shouted the foremost man.
Bence darted past Lief and lodged his dagger into the man’s throat. His knees buckled, succumbing to the stampede behind him. Bodies collided with the cyclone, flying back upon contact.
“I’m going to carve out a small opening for you. Go!”
Stealing a glance back at Lief, he noticed his knobby fingers were shaking. Bence sprinted ahead, bracing himself. The wind calmed, allowing him to pass through.
A fist to his jaw greeted him. Another wrapped its fingers around his throat. Bence gasped, but the assault from the chaos continued. His joints burned as his limbs were pulled further apart, and carbon dioxide pooled in his lungs. Scraping metal drew his attention. Sun glistened against the edge of an axe directly above him. Bence stopped commanding and started begging. He needed to save Isabel. He needed to live long enough to see to that.
Warmth deluged in his insides as his skin faded into transparency. The blade passed through his shadowy form. Once he became solid again, he peeked back at Lief.
Lief’s powers diminished, and lines of men and women charged past Bence, swinging their weapons at the Tuuli chief.
“Lief! Fly!” He shouted himself hoarse.
Wings flapped furiously. When Lief levitated a foot into the air, the attackers crashed into one another. He connected eyes with Bence. As soon as Lief’s lips twitched upward, he was yanked down.
“I have his ankle!” shouted a woman.
Bence jerked toward Lief; however, the sea of hands swallowed the Tuuli.
An ear-splitting rip was followed by a scream. When Bence craned his neck to find Lief, a woman charged at him with a spear. He slid to the side and knocked the weapon from her hand. Twirling around, he grabbed her hair and slid the blade against her neck. The aroma of dirt overwhelmed him, but Bence gripped the hilt tightly, ready to carve the woman’s head off.
“Bence!”
His head snapped up to spot Lief waving his arm. His head and one wing were visible. Teeth dug into Bence’s hand. Crying out, he pulled her hair harder and drove his blade into her flesh. As soon as he shook her off, he searched for Lief again.
“Leave! Now! Don’t worry about me.” Another bone rattling rip. Tears exploded from Lief’s eyes as his other wing disappeared. “Find Raiden and defeat him!” A hand snaked around his mouth.
Bence scampered backwards and fell out of the manor. As soon as he regained balance, he looked for an opening in the never ending siege. His nostrils flared, and he charged at full speed, sword in hand. There were about a dozen more people he had to pass. He allowed the images of Lief release his wild temperament. Indulging in his nostalgic lust for blood, he sliced through body after body. He ducked, twirled, and rammed into anyone in his way. After driving his sword into his attacker’s abdomen, he directed his body as a shield.
A woman with snakelike hair shrieked to his right and hurled her axe. Bence turned and dug his heels into the dirt as it connected with his human shield. He stretched and ripped the weapon out, launching the top-heavy axe into her skull.
A white mare tied to the gate whinnied in the distance. The gate squeaked but didn’t give way. Bence kicked the corpse off his sword and made for the horse. He sheathed his weapon and waved his hands, shushing the mare.
“Calm down. I won’t harm you.”
It bucked and stomped its hooves. No matter how he approached the mare, Bence couldn’t get close enough to mount her. Thundering footsteps amplified. Those that had attacked Lief poured from the manor and ran straight for him.
“Damn it!”
The mare continued to kick. Bence drew his sword and drove it into the ground where its shadow overlapped. Tendrils of shadows swirled around the point of contact. It wiggled and neighed, but its body was frozen in place. Bence grabbed the reins and stretched his fingertips. It grazed the hilt of his sword. An arctic wind blew his hair back, freezing the sweat that dripped down his neck. In one motion, he pulled his sword out and swung onto the saddle. Bence nudged with his knees, and whispered into the mare’s ears. “Let’s survive together.”
After giving a reassuring pat, Bence flicked the reins. The mare galloped toward the line of bodies that blocked the exit. It picked up speed, and when it was within feet of flailing weapons, the mare leapt into the air. Necks snapped. Bence’s stomach somersaulted. When the mare’s hooves slammed onto the ground, it took off past the gates, through the cobble stone streets of Buryan, and toward the city exit.
His cloak fluttered about in the wind. He clung it to his chest as he shivered. Something hard tapped against him, like a nagging reminder. It dictated his destination, so he veered north.
CHAPTER
32
Deran’s new soldiers wavered ever so slightly in the wind like wooden posts. Rusty helmets covered most of their pallid faces. Isabel raced by them one by one as she headed toward her castle. They were littered throughout the land, and she did her best to ignore the whites of their eyes following her until she was out of their sight. After calculating the number of soldiers she witnessed at Zeyland, and the scores in the fields, Isabel guessed the resurrected ran into the thousands. They seemed to multiply like rabbits, and her chest tightened as she tried thinking of ways to save her country. The resurrected were living people.
I can’t just execute them all.
Her lungs burned, and her stomach growled. The longer she traveled, the farther she pushed her body to the limit. Each time her horse snuffed, wisps of white curled into the air. The sky darkened, releasing chunks of snow. Each flake melted on her fire-hot cheeks. Isabel embraced the frigid, howling winds pushing her back. She strained to focus on the castle, but all that appeared were the faces of those that had been murdered.
The crescendo of drums echoed ahead. Isabel pushed past the sheet of snow until her horse slipped on a slushy puddle. It bucked her off, and she rolled down a hill at lightning speed, slamming onto a rocky road. Clawing the earth, Isabel pushed herself up. A granite arch gate loomed a half mile away, gu
arded by a score of just-as-gray soldiers. Houses stood as black dots beyond it. She had reached the main path toward her home. I’ve should’ve acted sooner. Raiden isn’t going to get away with this.
When her horse trotted to the base of the hill, she mounted it and approached cautiously. Her hand gravitated toward a sai. As she passed the arch, the soldiers rotated in place and continued to stare. Isabel jerked her head high and passed the first slew of Deranian homes.
All lanterns had been snuffed out, leaving the entire town in perpetual twilight. The deep pounding of the drums intensified. When she arrived at the town center, Isabel gasped. The fountain memorial was reduced to a mere heap of stone and ice. The etched face of her mother lay by her horse’s hoof. Silent tears welled in her eyes and froze on its way down her cheeks.
Her horse whinnied. As soon as she tore her eyes off the heap, Isabel lurched at the lamp post ahead. In between each stroke of the drum, a squeak emitted from the rope swinging in the breeze.
Rubbing her eyes, Isabel prayed she was hallucinating. As she drew closer, she identified the hanging body as Andre’s father. Isabel’s heart stopped. The man’s shirt was ripped down the center with the Aeonian scar branded into his chest. When she was inches away, she dared to look into his eyes. Wide, bloodshot. With his arched eyebrows and gapping mouth, he had been caught off guard.
Before she could react, her horse sidestepped and jerked its head. Isabel glanced down at a wood post hammered into the ground. “WANTED: Aeonian.” A sharp pain splintered through her chest. It had to be a nightmare, but after pinching herself, she still saw the same mortifying image. Shaking her head, she continued down the path. Bodies hung from the next three posts. The first was masked by a cap. When the wind picked up, it flew off, exposing Martin, the mason, with the Aeonian mark seared onto his balding scalp. A pickaxe protruded from the back of the second body. When the corpse fully rotated, a mortified face of Leo, Martin’s son, stared back at her. The third was a woman. Isabel could barely recognize the figure, except for the trademark butterfly freckles on her cheeks.
All bore the Aeonian mark, branded somewhere on their bare flesh. All hung over signs warning of Aeonian attacks. Covering her mouth with her hand, terror clawed its way into her ear with each slam of the drum. People she once had interacted with were now dead. The sands of time had long swept away from her grasp, and her hesitation to judge the Healers left her with consequences that she’d have to bear for the rest of her life. The propaganda of a phantom Aeonian rang strong throughout the street.
When Isabel arrived at the main gate of the castle, she wiped her brow. She’d survived the sea of corpses. Although it was her castle, it didn’t feel like home. Sucking in a deep breath, she shouted above the guttural drumming.
“I am Queen Isabel, returning as summoned.” Bitterness lingered at the edge of her tongue. A queen should never be summoned to her own castle like a misbehaved princess.
Gilded doors creaked open. Isabel lunged up the stairs and set her sai aflame with Foti’s Ruby. Flicking her wrists, she brandished them at any resurrected soldier that took a single step in her direction.
When she made it indoors, she sprinted down the lengthy hall. Her boots scuffed against the spotless carpet, leaving clumps of slush behind. Horror morphed into rage as she ascended the final marble steps of the main foyer. The drumming stopped. The candles flickered in the chandelier above.
Raiden sat back, crossing one leg over another. He was draped in his usual black and dark cherry colors. The crown flattered his raven hair. Rubbing his hands up and down the armrest of the king’s throne, he beamed down at her.
“There you are, my rogue queen.”
Pointing one sai at him, she sneered. “How dare you sit on Dante’s chair!”
He shrugged, nuzzling casually into the cushioning. “Dante’s still violently ill. And since you’re prancing about, getting caught up in your own selfish affairs, I had to assume the throne as a temporary solution.” He pressed his fingers into his chest. “I’m acting King of Deran.”
Isabel followed his gaze. Her royal guards, her true guards that bore the Phoenix, encompassed the room. Their postures were rigid, and their eyes ricocheted between the two. “Arrest this imposter!” she shouted. “He’s the one responsible for all these deaths! Him and his other four Healers!”
Leaping onto his feet, Raiden extended his arms. “By the order of the king, I command you to arrest this traitor.”
Metal clinked as the guards jumped in place. Someone’s knees were shaking.
“Looks like they hesitate to listen to you.” Isabel held her sai up in front of her.
Snapping his fingers, he slinked toward Isabel. “Neither do they listen to you. But, not for long.”
Winter air blasted into the room as the entrance opened once more. Marching footsteps echoed off the marble walls. Refusing to turn her back on Raiden, she strained her neck and spotted his resurrected army clogging the hallway like a dirty drain. All four stones in Isabel’s armlet flashed. White, blue, orange, and red washed the foyer. Her blood boiled. Her nostrils flared.
“I’ve had enough, Raiden! No matter how you slice it, you know one hundred percent that there are no Aeonian killers. You had those bodies strung up like puppets to instill fear in my people so they don’t suspect that the real villain is you. Sick sadist!” Her voice thundered. The lights flickered.
Raiden clapped his hands in quick succession. “Royal guards, looks like the queen has contracted the same lunacy as the king.”
The Phoenix engraved shields remained still, spears and swords sheathed.
With a sigh, he said, “Fine. Queen Isabel, you have forced my hand. You are charged with treason─”
“Excuse me?” she shrieked, squaring her shoulders.
“Treason for obstruction of justice. You will be held in prison until a trial has been set.”
Isabel scoffed. “For harboring a murderer you made up?” Warmth flooded her veins, as she activated Foti’s Ruby again. Fire danced higher from the tip of her sai.
“I’ll have to confiscate your armlet and weapon.” Raiden’s voice thundered with deafening power. He yanked at his heavily-studded ears. “If you don’t cease and desist, I will order One, Two, and Four to execute your tribal chiefs.”
Isabel’s breath escaped her. Refusing to let her powers retreat into the armlet, she stepped forward. “You’re bluffing.”
“Am I? You’re the one casting blame on me as the, how did you call it, a ‘sick sadist.’ Wouldn’t it seem completely rational for someone like that to carry out their threats?”
A faint orange glow colored his tattoos. He admired them with softened eyes. “I don’t think you know exactly what I’m capable of. You think you’re the only one with powers?”
“You’re just a Healer!”
Orange light flashed from his tattoos. Isabel’s hair whipped back, and her eyes stung.
“Queen Isabel.” Raiden’s voice echoed as if he stood at the base of a canyon. He tore off the crown and set it aside. “Surrender your armlet and sai, or Lief, Hakan, and Dover will die!”
Her heart splintered. “Why are you doing this?”
Raiden’s tattoos glowed orange, then faded into black again. “At first I just wanted to see the return of Healers and restore their rights to wield their bloodstones; however, I discovered this whole regime is still ruled by Queen Febe’s bloodline, and that just wouldn’t do.”
Isabel fell onto her knees. Raiden studied his nails.
“Deran’s sovereign must be redesigned, and Dante’s faulty resurrection worked in my favor. But I’m not here to waste my breath telling you my plans. You have until three to surrender or I’ll make good on my threats.”
The lump in Isabel’s throat expanded. She could barely breathe.
“One.”
Wrapping her arms around herself, Isabel shuddered. Every inch of her ached. Mildew and decay filled her lungs. The vibration of the drums picked up again.
“Two!”
Jabin already had been slain. Isabel refused to be responsible for any more deaths. Moreover, if they all died, who would hold her support? All her guards stared at their feet. Raiden’s minions growled. Her nerves burned as all her senses flew into overdrive. She couldn’t even form a comprehensive thought.
“Th─”
She grimaced as she tore her armlet off. The tail end of the gold jewelry scratched her flesh, spraying blood onto the floor. Hurling her precious heirloom and weapons at Raiden, an agonizing scream soared deep from her chest and off her tongue.
CHAPTER
33
Bence mentally scolded himself; his first encounter had been too wreckless. If he had acted with more stealth, Lief could’ve survived, and he wouldn’t have a chunk of skin missing on his hand. The sun’s diminishing rays highlighted thin, snow-capped mountains with needle-thin peaks in the distance. It filled Bence with a sense of familiarity. He was a couple rolling hills away until he reached Ogonia. He directed his mare more inland.
Rushing water soon became audible. Bence slowed to a trot up a steady incline. Rushing transformed into a roar. When he reached the peak of the hill, he spotted towering steel buildings peeking behind the proud Golden Falls.
As expected, a line of people stretched across the city limit. They looked just like the ones that attacked him in Buryan—regular humans inappropriately dressed and over-equipped. Running his free hand through his hair, Bence sucked in a few deep breaths. Once he targeted the entrance, he nudged the horse back to full speed. His cloak flapped wildly behind him. The guards knitted together near the large metal doors. Bence forced a smile and waved. They looked at one another, some lowering their weapons.
When Bence arrived, he swung off his horse and bowed slightly, keeping his eyes up and locked on the them. Many had blank expressions chiseled into their faces, while others rose their brows in confusion. Uncertainty rattled him, but Bence had to play it cool. Clearing his voice, Bence formed his rehearsed lines in the back of his throat.
