Seirsha of Errinton

by Shari L. Tapscott

  “Mostly fire.”

  Perhaps it’s knowing these may be our last moments together, or maybe it’s the tension of the impending battle, but something snaps in me. I yank Rigel’s shoulders to me and press my lips to his. He kisses me back. It’s an urgent, desperate goodbye.

  No matter what meets us, I will treasure this moment. I lock away every sensation—the way he smells of torch-fire and cedar and lavender soap, the faraway din of the men moving about in the courtyard, the wet chill seeping in the armory despite the burning fires.

  I’ll remember it all, but mostly I’ll remember Rigel. Even if we live seventy more years, and our grandchildren have children, I will remember this moment, this turning point in our lives.

  I’m not sure who breaks the kiss first, but it ends as abruptly as it began. Wordlessly, Rigel offers me his hand. I take it, and together we go to meet Father and his army.

  ***

  Argus is just as charming as always. His eyes rake over me in a slow appraisal that makes me wish to cower behind Rigel. Instead, I lift my chin in the air and grace him with my practiced look of disdain.

  Argus flicks his head toward Adrinel. “She may not enter.”

  “Adrinel represents the dragons.” Rigel crosses his arms. “She has as much right as any.”

  Adrinel watches with cold, reptilian eyes.

  Argus sneers. “It was agreed there would be no weapons. That would include dragons.”

  As Rigel and Argus argue, I scan the valley. The uneasy feeling grows. It’s hard to see Father’s men past the mist, but the first line stands not far from the meeting spot Rigel and Father agreed upon. I glance behind us, needing to assure myself that our men are not far away. They too stand, watching, waiting. Malcolm’s at the front, ready to give the signal if needed.

  As I turn back to Argus, I catch Dryal’s eyes. He gives me a small, slow nod. A silent promise. Whether he’s promising to protect me or Rigel, I don’t know. As always, it’s difficult to tell just where his loyalties lie.

  The thought chills me. Though I know Father does not hold Dryal’s allegiance, we would be in a very vulnerable position should he prove to be a traitor.

  Goosebumps rise on my arms. It’s the chill in the air. Only the storm.

  Argus continues, “If the dragon enters, then the king will be armed as well.”

  “Did you hear that, Rigel?” Dryal says from behind us. “Argus says you can take your sword.”

  Rigel shoots Dryal a warning look, but the knight is too busy exchanging scowls with Argus to notice.

  “Adrinel, do you trust me to represent you?” Rigel asks the dragon.

  “No,” she says immediately, but then she turns her eyes to me. “But I will accept Seirsha as our ambassador.”

  I inhale a sharp breath through my nose, startled by the note of pride in her voice.

  “Very well,” Rigel says finally, though I can tell he’s uneasy with the dragon’s withdrawal. I’m sure he wouldn’t have agreed to my attendance if he’d known she wouldn’t be permitted.

  Leaving Adrinel behind, we follow Argus. Though I’ve been careful to keep my eyes averted, I can feel Father’s gaze. Despite the chill, my hands sweat in their gloves.

  Finally, with the distance closed, I look up. Father’s ice-blue eyes are not on me. They are trained on Rigel. The look he wears is disconcerting to say the least. He’s slightly crazed; a small smile tips his lips.

  My heart hammers in my chest, and suddenly it’s as if the mist has fingers to choke me. I fight for even breaths. Father mustn’t know I fear him.

  The armies wait, both sides just far enough away a rogue arrow would fall short. Rovert and Zander stand behind Father, and Argus stands at his side. With Dryal, there are only three of us. Though it’s only by one, I feel outnumbered.

  Finally, Father’s eyes flick to me. “Hello, Seirsha.”

  “Father.”

  “I hear you are calling yourself a queen now. Don’t you find that a bit premature?”

  I stand straighter. “You have called yourself a king for many years, and yet the throne was never yours. Now is not the time to quibble over titles.”

  He smiles, and his eyes light with that flash of pride that has always made me feel tainted.

  “We are here,” Rigel says, obviously in no mood for Father’s games. “What do you wish to discuss?”

  Father holds his hands out, palms up. “Your surrender, of course.”

  I blink at him, wondering if this bluff of power is part of his strategy.

  Rigel crosses his arms. “And why would I do that? My army vastly outnumbers yours, and for the first time in history, a true alliance has been made with the dragons. They will fight with us.”

  In the distance, the tower bell chimes, announcing the half-hour.

  Father smiles and graces Rigel with a grandfatherly look of benevolence. “Your armies will fall. The dragons will fight, but they will die.”

  I study Father as he speaks. The last few weeks have not been kind to him. His face is deeply lined; his hair is more white than gray.

  Magic, I realize with a start. He’s bartered for more magic.

  The mist coils at my feet, eager.

  I step forward. “What are the terms if we choose to surrender?”

  I’ve startled not only Rigel but Father as well. Rigel whips toward me, stunned.

  “Will you spare him?” I ask.

  Rigel is livid. “Seirsha—”

  “I have nothing to lose,” Father says. “I have no terms.”

  “You have me.” I step forward. “Should you kill him, you will lose me. Any love for you that I harbor in my heart will die with his last breath.” Doubt flickers in his eyes, and I take another step. “I am the only reason you stand before us now. If it weren't for me, Rigel would have already killed you.”

  “And what makes you think I care for your love?”

  “You do love me, even if you don’t want to. Just as I love you—even though you’ve certainly given me no reason and more often than not, I wish I didn’t.”

  For once, Father is speechless.

  “This meeting is over.” Rigel pulls me back with a firm hand and pushes me behind him as he squares off to Father. “If you are foolish enough to think you can come out victorious, then so be it.”

  Father ignores Rigel, and he looks past him at me. “You want my terms? You will return with me, and in exchange I will spare his life—though I promise neither he nor you will thank me.”

  Rigel hands me off to Dryal. “Get her to safety.”

  Dryal pulls me away, and I struggle against him. “Rigel, wait—”

  Father smiles at Rigel. “Go with her, say your goodbyes. I will attack by the next bell if you do not accept.”

  We turn and leave Father and his men. The strange mist seems to wrap around our ankles, attempting to hold us back.

  As soon as we’re through the gates, Rigel yells to the rest of the men to prepare to march. Ignoring a hundred questions, he pulls me into the armory and slams the door. “What was that?”

  I’ve never seen Rigel like this. He’s livid; he’s beyond livid.

  I meet him, matching his temper with my own. “He has magic, Rigel. Magic. Didn’t you see him? He’s aged another ten years!”

  A shadow crosses Rigel’s face. “No, the sculpture…it was empty.”

  “Not the sculpture.” I rip my gloves off and send them flying into the corner, needing to take out my fear and anger on something. “The wizard. He must be here.”

  “You can’t know that.”

  I step up to him. “I know when Father’s bluffing, and I know when he’s not. You must believe me. I swear on my life, he’s not.”

  Rigel rubs his hand over his face, a helpless move that sets cold fear in my heart.

  “We have no choice,” he says. “We must fight—there is no other option.”

  I pull his hand away from his face so he’ll look at me. “I can’t lose you.”

&n
bsp; He grasps my hands hard. “Don’t you understand? We have no future if he wins. This blackness will suffocate all of Errinton, and eventually it will leach into the lower kingdoms.”

  “Please,” I beg, but I don’t even know what I’m asking.

  He’s right.

  There’s frantic beating at the door, and Malcolm hollers from the other side. Rigel is needed. It’s time.

  Rigel steps back, ready. He stares at me for a moment as if he’s struggling for words of comfort. There are none. He kisses me, gives me one last silent look, and then walks through the door.

  Malcolm hands Rigel his stallion’s reins. The animal is ready for war, its soft hide encased in armor. I watch Rigel mount and canter from the courtyard to join his men.

  With a hand clasped over my mouth in a desperate attempt to hold in the panic, I slowly sink to the cobblestones.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  I’m ripped from my grieving when a hand yanks on my arm, pulling me up. Pippa stares at me. Her cheeks are flushed from the cold, and her eyes are wide with concern.

  “What’s happened?” she demands.

  “Magic,” I whisper, letting the pain consume me. “Father’s traded more of his life.”

  I begin to sink again to the ground. I know in my heart Rigel won’t return this time. Let me die here.

  I’m startled back by a sharp sting of pain. I hold my cheek in surprise and blink at Pippa. She slapped me.

  “This is not the time to wallow.” She stands tall despite her height. “If we are to fall today, we will not go without a fight.”

  “What do you expect me to do?”

  Without a word, she strides into the armory, scans the wall for half a second, and then shoves a sword into my hands. “Let’s hope you don’t need it. Come with me.”

  I follow her up to the battlements. Archer stands with his men, but he’s obviously been waiting for Pippa to return. Relief washes over his face, but his expression hardens again when Pippa tells him what I’ve learned.

  The princess takes her place at his side. Without the slightest hesitation, she pulls her bow from her back and nocks an arrow. Like the others, she doesn’t yet draw, but she waits, her eyes trained on the mist below us.

  It’s impossible to see, and it’s quiet. The only sounds come from the breeze rustling through the trees and an occasional rumble of thunder in the distance. Then, like a flame doused, the storm goes still. There is perfect, complete silence.

  The mist thickens. Even at our height on the battlements, it claws at my legs. Cold moisture gathers on my cheeks and my armor. I inhale, waiting.

  The fog swirls, and soon I lose sight of the men at the end of the battlement. In moments, the cloud is so thick I can only see Pippa. She soon disappears as well. I know they are here next to me, but my eyes trick me into thinking I am alone.

  Something brushes against my neck, and I whip around with the sword held out in front of me. There’s nothing.

  From below, the horses chorus together in an ear-piercing scream. It’s an unnatural sound, a sound no animal should make. The kind of sound that will forever haunt my nights. Then, again, it goes still.

  My hands shake, but I hold my sword steady.

  Then, cutting through the unnatural silence, Rigel yells my name. His voice sounds agitated as if he’s called several times already. He can’t be far, the courtyard at most, but I hesitate. Why would he return?

  I shake my head, making up my mind. I don’t care why; if he needs me, I must go.

  Blind in the void of white, I make my way to the stairway. I can only see one step at a time, but I rush down them.

  “Seirsha!” he yells again, and then he mutters a vulgar curse. “Where are you?”

  I freeze. I’ve never heard Rigel speak like that, and his tone is wrong.

  Moments later, a dark form materializes through the mist. I stumble back when it’s not Rigel, but Argus, that meets me.

  “Hello, Seirsha.” He eyes my sword. “What do you think you’re going to do with that?”

  “How did you get past our men?”

  “I walked.” He grins and gestures to the endless white. “For some reason they can’t see me.”

  “What do you want with me?”

  “I’ve come for you. King Bowen won’t begin until you’re secured.”

  I extend the weapon, dearly wishing I knew what to do with it. “I’ll die first.”

  He narrows his eyes. “That was my first choice as well.”

  The knight rushes me. Gritting my teeth, I swing the blade. With humiliating ease, he catches my wrist, and the sword clatters to the ground. He strikes me, his knuckles connecting with my skull. The mist swirls to black, and I fall.

  ***

  Even before I fully wake, I sense a headache. When I open my eyes, pain bursts through me. I groan, clench my eyes shut again, and raise my hands to my head. Finally, I peel my eyes open.

  I’m alone. The white mist swirls, and, still, there is no sound. I pull myself to my feet but only move two steps before I bump into an invisible barrier. I step back, startled, and then turn the other way. After four more steps, I reach another wall. A scream threatens to escape my throat, but I choke it back. I dart to the third side and then the last.

  I’m closed in.

  I can barely catch my breath. The invisible walls press in on me, stealing my air. Cowering in my tiny cage of black magic, I sink to the ground.

  No. I will not wallow.

  I take a slow breath and stand. There must be a way out. I stare at the blank spot where the wall must be, imagining it shattering. I stretch my hand out and take a cautious step forward. It’s magic. Perhaps if I truly believe it’s gone—if I will it to be gone—it will be.

  I growl when my hand bumps against the boundary.

  While thinking, I bite the inside of my cheek. Can I climb it? I extend my hands, feeling for the wall. It’s smooth like glass.

  As I’m contemplating my next move, the mist shifts above me. It parts for just a moment, giving me a view of the stormy gray sky above. Immediately, the mist heals itself, and the sky is gone. As I stare, marveling at the white expanse, the mist parts again, this time revealing the dark underbellies of several dragons. Before the mist can close in again, more dragons fly through, slicing through the cloud with their wings.

  As if alive, the cloud attempts to merge again. But there are more dragons. And more.

  The mist breaks, and with it, the silence is broken. I gasp, horrified. The sounds of battle surround me. On all sides of my cage, there’s fighting. One of our knights is so close; I could touch him if I weren't trapped by this wall. He startles when the clouds begin to clear, and then his eyes go wide when he sees me. One of Father’s men takes advantage of the knight’s bewilderment and strikes him down.

  “No!” I scream, not that it will do any good.

  I look around, frantic. Relentless, the dragons attack the mist, holding it back with the draft from their wings. In what might be as little as fifteen minutes or as long as several hours, the vapors disappear into the air.

  I beat at the walls with my fists, but it’s to no avail. The dragons have destroyed the mist, but the magic that holds me is intact. I look to the sky, refusing to take in the fighting around me.

  “Adrinel!” I scream her name, hoping with her sharp hearing she’ll respond. “Adrinel!”

  A dizzying number of dragons fly overhead. Now that the sky is clear, their fire rains down. Relief floods me when the sapphire dragon emerges from the swarm.

  I expect the invisible barrier to extend over me as well, but Adrinel snatches me in her talons and pulls me free. We fly into the air with such speed that I am sure I will pass out again.

  I cry up to her, “Where are you taking me?”

  As she looks down to respond, an arrow pierces the fragile membrane of her right wing. She roars in pain, and then another arrow sinks in next to the first.

  We fall.

  Adrinel twists in
mid-air, and her claws clutch me close as she careens to the earth. She extends her left wing, attempting to slow our crash. It helps, if only by a little.

  Though Adrinel has shielded me from the worst of it, the impact is jarring. Around us, the fighting has parted. I crawl from the dragon’s belly and rush to her head. “Are you all right?”

  She opens an eye and mumbles something unintelligible. She takes a deep breath, and then her eye flutters shut.

  “No!” Grief racks me, and I clutch her neck.

  Her body shifts under me, and she opens an eye.

  “What is wrong with you?” she hisses. “I only fell. I’ll be fine.”

  I jerk up and away. “I thought you were dead.”

  “You’ll be dead if you don’t run.”

  “I can’t leave you—”

  There’s a yell behind me. I turn in time to watch Malcolm run one of Father’s men through with his sword. I gasp and push my back against Adrinel’s side.

  “Listen to your dragon,” Malcolm grunts as he pulls his sword free.

  All I can see is the man lying at my feet. He mouths silent last words, and then he goes still.

  Malcolm retrieves the sword from the man’s lifeless hand and shoves it at me. “We almost have them surrounded.” He nods toward the east. “Go that way as fast as you can, and you’ll be out of danger soon.”

  I glance at Adrinel.

  “Go,” she snarls.

  I nod and grip the sword close to my chest. Then I run.

  “Seirsha!” Malcolm calls even as another man comes at him. “Don’t look at the fallen.”

  My vision blurs for a moment, but I run. I dart around figures on the ground, and though I try to heed Malcolm’s words, I can’t help it. I look. I know so many of the lost, not only from Rigel’s ranks but from my father’s as well. There are so many gone.

  I’m nearing where the dragons circle, where they close Father’s army in, when a hand catches my ankle. I fall to the trampled ground and try to slow my crash with my free hand. Spitting out dirt and grass, I rub my mouth against my shoulder. I twist, jerking on my ankle, but my attacker holds firm.

  Argus stares back at me with glassy eyes. With his free hand, he clutches a wound in his abdomen. His eyes betray that he will not leave this field alive.