“I do not feel like a better person,” she said quietly, dropping her head.
I hugged her tight, not sure what else to do. Athala would have to live with her enormous guilt for the rest of her days and as much as it pained me, there was nothing I could do about it. There was no way I could understand what she’d gone through or what she had done. That was her burden to bear and there wasn’t anything I or anyone else could do to help.
“I think you’re the most amazing woman I have ever met,” I said. “To go through what you’ve been through and come out the other side sane and human, it’s incredible.”
“Sane?” she looked back up, arching an eyebrow. “I am about to charge into the fortress of the most powerful sorceress in the world with no magical protection. I do not think ‘sane’ is quite the correct adjective.”
“Probably not,” I admitted with a chuckle. “But my point still stands. You’ve suffered horrors I couldn’t begin to imagine and you haven’t been broken. Instead, you’ve come through stronger, wiser, and better. I couldn’t have done that; I don’t know anyone who could’ve besides you. You’re truly amazing.”
“Thank you,” she whispered and snuggled into me. “I do not deserve your praise but thank you.”
We silently sat there again, enjoying each other’s presence without needing words.
“You know,” Athala broke the silence. “I am not the only one who has changed.”
“Oh?
“You are not the same naïve boy that threatened to cut off my head after trying to challenge one of Katrina’s soldiers to a duel,” she said. “You are much wiser than you were before and you know yourself so much better.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, confused.
Athala sat up and looked at me. “Take this morning, when we were running to the boats. When that man stood in your way, you were willing to kill if needed because we needed to escape.”
“So becoming more willing to murder makes me better somehow?” I wasn’t sure if I should be amused or insulted.
“No, no,” Athala shook her head. “You would have had no problem killing him before but you would have wanted to make sure he was armed and followed all the proper Alkite honor procedures. Then you would have killed him. It would not have mattered that he would have stood no better chance against you with a sword than without one. For all practical purposes, it would have been murder.”
“If he was armed, it wouldn’t be,” I protested. “At least he could defend himself.”
Athala rolled her eyes. “Please,” she said. “You have been training to use a weapon since you were a small child; that man has probably never held a sword in his life. If anything, giving him one would put him at greater risk, not less. So really, how would it have been any different?”
“I guess you have a point,” I conceded.
“What has changed about you is that you think less of your honor and more of the people around you,” Athala explained. “If you are honest with yourself, why did you really come? Was it just to rescue your friend? Sure that played a part but if you were not offered the crown, if it would not honor your family, would you have come? If you knew that in coming, you would risk your life or worse and that if you somehow managed to succeed, you would bring Ariadne back, hand her back to the king, and then go back to your life with nothing changing, would you have done it?”
Her words stung but they carried a lot of truth. I thought about how resistant I was to coming even with all the rewards. It was the boost to my station and honor, not to mention that of my family that induced me to start this insane quest, not any sort of selfless heroism.
“Probably not, no,” I admitted, shoulders slumping.
“But you would now,” she said. “The Zimri I know would not hesitate to put everything on the line to rescue a friend. He would rush into face any danger to help those who were suffering and he would not care if anyone noticed or not. It is not about reward or honor anymore; it is about saving and protecting those who need it. You are less concerned with how you fight, which is what honor concerns itself with and is inherently selfish. Your old focus put everything on how you looked and were perceived. Now, you are concerned with who you are fighting for and why you are fighting at all. It is about Ariadne and Helga and Titan and Lisle and Warin for you now. If you are truly defending them, the how does not matter.
“So if an unarmed man is preventing us from rescuing Ariadne, you will deal with him however you must instead of trying to observe some sort of proper form and ceremony that will make you look good. You do not run around murdering those who stand in your way, of course. You gave him the opportunity of standing down on his own and when he refused, you were ready to strike him down because that is what Ariadne needed.”
“I’m not sure if I like that,” I frowned. “I sound…cruel.”
“Not cruel,” she said, “but wise and just. If anything, it makes you kinder than you were before. You think beyond yourself and your own reputation to the needs of others. That means making hard choices, some that may not look good. But you somehow always know the right thing to do. It may not always be the most expedient or the most efficient but it is always the right thing. You have always had a keen sense of right and wrong; now you are letting yourself be guided by that rather than your sense of honor.
“It amazes me how you seem to know right from wrong,” she went on. “The whole concept is rather new to me. Not only that, but you will listen to the wisdom of others and will bend if you see their idea as the right one. You do not need the glory or credit anymore, so long as your people are safe. Like how you agreed to an ambush and let women join your army at Miner’s Home. The old Zimri would never have allowed that, even if it was the smart, right thing to do. You are so much wiser and just now than when you began this quest. You will make a good king.”
I winced at that. “I don’t want to be king,” I said quietly.
“I know,” Athala said, a hint of sadness in her voice. “But you will because it is what Alkilion needs and is the right thing to do. That is what I like so much about you; you will chose the good of others over yourself. You will not become king for the honor or the respect but because you are the person your people need. Better you than someone like Baasha.”
“Sure, assuming the other great houses let me be king,” I said. “I don’t think they’re going to like the idea of a nobody becoming their ruler.”
“Sennacheriv is not going to die just yet,” Athala encouraged. “You will have a few years to get the people used to you as king.”
Athala was right, of course, which only made it worse. I would marry Ariadne and become the next king because it was what my people needed. They needed stability on the throne and they needed a king who would put them first.
The problem was I just didn’t want the job and never had. I didn’t want the headache of diplomacy, administration, and definitely not the headache of dealing with the various noble factions. But more than that, I didn’t want to marry Ariadne.
She was an amazing, incredible woman and I knew I would be lucky to be with someone like her. Ari would make a great partner for ruling Alkilion. That I would be happy with Ari had been the consolation to having to become king, even if I wasn’t in love with her. I knew I could, eventually. Except now, I knew I wasn’t and would never be in love with Ariadne because, well…
I was in love with Athala.
Of all the possible outcomes I’d considered when beginning this insane quest, falling in love with Ariadne’s abductor was never one of them. Yet, here I was.
But after all we’d been through together, the battles, the near-death experiences, the tragedies, the misery, the victories, and the changes, how could I not be in love with her? We had changed so much and changed together, our beings becoming irreversibly entwined. I would always be in love with Athala. She understood me in ways no one else ever could and we were part of each other in ways I couldn’t begin to describe. I couldn’t imagine a life w
ithout her in it; I didn’t want to imagine such a life.
Yet, assuming we lived through the next day, I would marry Ariadne. The thought of being with someone else created a pit of pain in my gut that I knew would never really go away.
“What about you?” I asked, changing the subject. “What are you going to do?”
“Assuming we do not die some horrible death?” she asked with an arched eyebrow.
“Assuming that, yes.”
“I do not know,” she admitted. “I never thought we would actually make it this far or that we might win so I have not planned for what is next. I do not think I can stay here after all I have done.”
“I’m sure Titan and Liesl would love to have you come home,” I pointed out.
“Perhaps,” she said, “but there are so many people I have hurt, they would be after my head. I cannot bring that kind of wrath down on them.”
“You could always come to Alkilion with me,” I offered.
Athala looked up sharply, a flicker of hope crossing her face before it fell. “No,” she said. “After last time, I doubt I would be welcome.”
“I’m certain the crown prince would have some pull,” I pressed.
“Your wife would not approve,” Athala flatly replied.
Inwardly, I kicked myself. Of course I couldn’t have Athala anywhere near me and Ariadne. It would be too painful for everyone involved and only lead to trouble.
“I just don’t want to lose you,” I finally said quietly.
“Nor I you,” Athala answered. “But you are Ariadne’s, not mine.”
I wanted to scream that it was wrong and unfair but I knew that wouldn’t help. It was what it was. “I guess we still have each other tonight,” I said.
“Ya, tonight,” she gave me a smile that made my heart beat through my chest. It was so perfect, so romantic under the stars by the lake that I wanted to lean down and kiss her like my life depended on it.
But I didn’t. I knew I might regret it but I knew kissing her would make the inevitable good-bye that much harder. So instead, I simply hugged her tight and we both looked up to the sky, waiting for the dawn.
Chapter 43-Zimri
Lord Omri had three rules for battle-preparation: never fight on an empty stomach, full bladder, or lack of sleep. So far, I was failing on two of the three.
“I’m hungry,” I grumbled, earning a swift kick from Athala.
“Please Lord Zimri, be quiet,” implored Warin from somewhere in front. “We are very close to the Eisenpalast.”
I bit my tongue and sat still in the pitch blackness of the invisibility cloak and scarf. According to Athala, it wasn’t enough for Katrina to be the most powerful sorceress in the world, live on an island, in the middle of the Eisenberge. Apparently she needed a contingent of about a thousand soldiers to guard her lair as well, which meant getting to the island unseen was nearly impossible. Staying any length of time undetected was flat out impossible. So we had Warin rowing us there while we sat still and quiet wrapped in the cloaks with the scarves pulled over our eyes, the drawback of course being that we couldn’t see. It made me uncomfortable.
“Intruder, beach your craft and surrender immediately!” a chillingly inhuman voice suddenly called out.
“Adamah’s breath, what is that?” I hissed before I could stop myself.
The voice was loud but totally lacking in any inflection or emotion. It sounded almost metallic and it made me shiver. I supposed that it was a soldier talking, one of the Katrina’s mind-broken slaves. It dawned on me I’d never heard one speak before; I could do without ever hearing it again.
The boat suddenly shuddered and I could hear the scrapping of the hull against rocks as we struck the beach. Through the cloth, I felt Athala’s hand suddenly grip my wrist. Careful not to open the cloak, I grabbed her hand in mine and squeezed. We were finally here; after months of hiking, fighting, starving, and freezing, we were finally here. There was no going back now.
“Wait here while I distract them,” Warin whispered to us and then I heard him suddenly stand.
“I will live no longer as a slave!” he shouted and then sprinted across the beach, crunching gravelly sand underneath his feet. The footsteps of soldiers pounded after him.
“What is he thinking?” I snarled quietly to myself and started to get up but Athala tightened her grip.
“No,” she whispered.
“He’ll get himself killed!” I protested under my breath.
“He knows,” she said. “This was always his plan to distract them so we could slip in.”
I warred with myself for a moment. Once again, I was letting someone else sacrifice themselves for me. But no, I knew that wasn’t right. This was Warin’s choice and just as much his battle as mine. So, reluctantly, I relaxed and let him go.
Athala and I sat on the beached boat quietly for what felt like an eternity. The sounds of pursuit faded and all was silent save for the lapping of waves. Finally, I cautiously reached up and tugged the scarf down just below my eyes. I nearly jumped when I saw three guards staring back. I froze, not even breathing as I watched them but they remained perfectly still, like statues apparently here to guard the boat.
“Three left,” I whispered, equally gingerly reaching down for my scimitar in the bottom. “I’ll have to take them before we can do anything.” Athala squeezed her acknowledgement.
As soon as my hand gripped the hilt, I exploded into action. The rowboat made my initial attack awkward but my sudden appearance was enough to catch the soldiers off guard. I aimed for the middle one and struck him down before he could get his shield up. The soldier to my left thrust his spear at me but I pinned it to his shield with my own. I pivoted around and slashed his throat open. The third came at me from behind but I maneuvered his fallen comrade between us, buying me a moment to get reset. One on one, he stood no chance.
“Clear!” I quietly called to Athala as the final soldier slid off my blade.
Her face appeared above the boat as she quickly scrambled ashore with our gear, including the glass-hilted sword. I grabbed half of it and we quickly made our way inland, affording my first real look at the Eisenpalast.
“By the Trinity!” I exclaimed. “It’s huge.”
It was as if the entire island had been made for the Eisenpalast. A few dozen meters in from the water, the ground rose sharply in a natural rampart that encircled the Palast. Four enormous arched bridges connected the ramparts to the central tower, giving it the profile of a huge sword hilt thrust into the earth. The tower itself was solid black stone polished a glossy smooth and rose almost three hundred meters into the sky.
“Ya,” Athala commented with no enthusiasm. “A 277-meter tall prison.”
“How are we ever going to find Katrina in there?” I wondered. It would take weeks to search the place.
Athala looked up at the spire. “Oh, I do not think finding her will be a problem. She is probably waiting for us.”
“That’s encouraging,” I snorted. “So how do we get in there? Sneak over the ramparts?”
“No,” Athala shook her head. “It is a fifteen-meter straight drop down the other side into the dungeon and barrack levels. Assuming we did not shatter our legs in the try, we would be immediately surrounded by hundreds of soldiers.”
“What about climbing down?” I suggested.
“We do not have a rope long enough,” Athala replied. “Even if we did, we would be completely exposed from below and above. Also, the crown of the ramparts is the most heavily patrolled area. We would be spotted. The bridges are the only entrance.”
“Seriously? In a place this big? There has to be a secret tunnel or something,” I couldn’t believe. Even Zahav had its secret passages.
“No, nothing,” Athala firmly replied. “I lived here for almost my entire life; if there was one, I would have found it.”
“What if you needed to evacuate or something?”
“It is an island; if an enemy army breaks in, where is a se
cret tunnel going to take you?”
“Good point,” I admitted.
“Besides, if for some reason Katrina is forced to flee, she would just teleport away. That is how I came and went once I learned the spell.”
“Well, we’re not using that,” I said.
“Agreed,” Athala shivered. “Unfortunately, that leaves the bridge as our way in.”
“The next hurdle,” I muttered as I looked up at the ramparts. “Would the cloaks hide us enough to get past the sentries?”
“Not past thirty or forty of them, no.”
I winced at that. “How wide are the bridges?”
“Three and a half, maybe four meters.”
“Hmm,” I considered the problem. “I need a better look.”
Skulking along, I crept to the top of the rampart with Athala in tow. Hunkering down so that only my eyes were exposed, I took in the situation. The first thing I noticed was soldiers everywhere. Even when we were trying to sneak through Black Falls, there weren’t this many soldiers. Worse, I spotted a lot of unbroken officers, which nixed my plan of trying to steal armor again.
We edged along the rampart’s lip for the next two hours, stopping constantly to avoid the incessant patrols along the rim, eventually reaching the bridge. It was just even more daunting than Athala description. A massive gate barred the entrance and at least thirty soldiers stood rigidly at attention in the plaza in front. Even if I with Titan, we couldn’t possibly have stormed this many. But if we could get around it…
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