State of Independence

by Sherry L. Brown

  Now, how many guards she’s got, or where they are, that’s knowledge we don’t have. Nick had been her slave for four years before escaping. He was reluctant to talk about that time, but he described some type of gladiatorial set up for the entertainment of her minions. That’s how he survived, but not how he escaped. He only divulged that he had help on the escape.

  I think about all the possibilities of things we could confront the minute we are over those walls. Demons. Glory had given me some pretty gruesome descriptions.

  Fairies. Justice had given me a run-down on their m.o.’s.

  Vampires and werewolves. Standard.

  But what else? What else would she use to defend herself with?

  What would she use against us?

  I’d love to lob a grenade right through her bedroom window and call it day, but the closer I come to the city, and the castle, I realize that’s a pipe-dream.

  This place is huge. I’d miscalculated from the top of the mountain.

  About a half mile out, Torren’s back melts into the forest on one side of the road.

  Roman and Dare disappear too.

  “We’ll take it off road from here.” Grayson says from behind me.

  I don’t particularly like slinking through dark forests I don’t know at night, and this one is sending me some serious heebie-jeebee vibes, but I give him the nod of ok and follow him off the path.

  I bring the M-16 from the walking-rest position it’s been in, to a more seated, quick-fire position in my arms.

  The otherworldliness is flourishing here in this forest. When I step, every now and then a puff of orange dust will come up from the ground. The vines and leaves seem to turn and sway without any wind.

  And I feel the eyes of creatures on us.

  Chapter 37

  I can feel the rise of the sun start in my blood, even though the forest remains as dark as pitch. I’d been so busy taking in the alien world around me that I haven’t been paying attention to my body. I feel something...like an extra tick with each beat of my heart.

  Nerves.

  Upon reaching the wall, I stare into the blackness, mesmerized. It’s so perfectly formed, that it could just be the absence of light. There’s no joints, no mortar, no indents. And it has to be at least seventy feet high.

  I reach my hand out to touch it. It burns with coldness.

  There is a fifteen foot dead-zone between the wall and the forest and I have to wonder if that’s intentional, or if this material naturally prevents anything from growing near it.

  Dare and Torren are the two with the grappling hooks, and they waste no time shooting them from nifty little guns. I watch the thin rope climb and arc over the top of the wall.

  They anchor the gun end into the ground close to the tree line creating a nifty little zip line. Except we have to go up it, not down.

  Dare hands me a contraption, like a slim bike handlebar. Torren hands one to Gray and Roman.

  I watch Dare through his over the rope, grab on, and ascend with all the ease of a descent.

  “It works on magnets.” Grayson whispers to me as we watch Torren and Roman step up to the wires.

  It’s seamless too, a smooth ride. At the top, Grayson catches me and pulls me on top of the wall. On the other side is an eight foot or so drop down to the walk.

  The spot we picked is on the west side of town. A turn in the wall itself, providing a bit of a blind spot and cover. But we still expect to run into guards.

  Keeping low we hug the wall and hope to blend in with it. We make it to a tower, Dare and Roman enter, and come back out without issues. They signal the all clear and we take the stairs down into the town.

  A part of me can’t believe there’s no sound of alarm, no cry of warning. We slipped in undetected.

  There’s still the town to get through and the castle though. The sky is breaking from that dark of night to lighter shades of blue and oddly enough - green. We have maybe forty-five minutes to full on daylight.

  There are three main avenues that lead down from the castle through town. We stick to the west one (or at least what I think is west), and I hold my breath at every house or building we come to.

  For the most part, the structures are nice, sometimes strange shapes, but made mostly of a type of material that is concrete-like in appearance. Every now and then I spot a very earthly human item, and it gives me pause. A clock hanging above a doorway, a broom leaning casually against a wall, and even a welcome mat.

  After three quarters of a mile, our path forward changes. We’ve left behind the residential area, and now have to cross a large market square.

  There are a few people (and I use that term loosely) already milling about, getting their market stall ready for a day of business.

  On point, Dare signals our way forward.

  Halfway through the square it happens.

  From the doors of buildings, underneath tables, around corners, out of the stalls, the ugliest demons materialize.

  Ambush.

  Mixed among the demons, are normal looking men, and abnormal looking men – skin light-blue, pointed ears, black lips – must be some type of fairy.

  All are armed, heavily.

  Roman is the first to fire into group on his left. Dare fires to his right. Torren, Grayson, and I fire into the middle, and quite a few bodies drop from our first volley.

  Suddenly, my gun jams up and there’s a second bum rush.

  I’m not the only one that has a gun that won’t fire. I don’t hear any more shots, so I know whatever’s caused my gun to jam has caused the other’s too.

  I slam the butt end of the gun at the particularly ugly demon coming at me.

  He’s at least two feet taller than me, bleeding from a bullet hole in his shoulder and with curving horns on each side of his head. He smiles at me after I hit him.

  There’s blood coming from his broken nose, but it’s not slowing him down.

  Torren breaks between us, swinging a war-hammer studded with spikes into the side of the demon’s head. He falls, and Torren turns to me.

  “GO! You and Gray, Go! Find the Queen!”

  I spin, pulling my short sword from it’s sheath on my back as I do so.

  Grayson’s just a few feet next to me, and he nods, and we fight our way through what I think is the probably the weakest point of the attack. Directly behind us. I cut down a fairy with a slash across his chest. Gray another demon.

  Back down the avenue we came, Grayson ducks through a side alley. Running through a series of these, we forge a path north and east. We are spotted by inhabitants of this castle-town, but not stopped.

  We make it to the main gate house, and take a sharp turn before any guards can spot us.

  Creeping fast, we keep the last inner wall to our backs as we walk it’s edge.

  Grayson stops when we hit a door. A short wizened old lady steps through it, sloshing a bucket of hot water down onto the cobblestones.

  Grayson nods to me when she goes back inside. This’ll be our entrance.

  Chapter 38

  Battle focused, I follow Gray through this fortress. I trust him to lead us where we need to go. Again, a few residents see us but pay no attention to us. No shouts of alarm. I have a feeling they’ve been expecting us, and have been ordered to ignore us.

  We climb the stairs for the central tower. So many flights I’m breathless when we reach the top. We pause outside the twenty foot doors, catching our breath; I’m pretty sure the only thing we can expect when we open these doors is the evil queen herself. I give Grayson a nod of readiness, and we shove our shoulders against the wood at the same time.

  The first thing I notice is how big this space is for being at the top of the tower. A hall over two hundred feet long. The walls are that polished ebony stone. I zero in on the back wall, and the figure on the throne there. So this is Nevaeh Henries.

  Red hair, alabaster skin, and a very fashionable gold circlet for a crown. She’s wearing a billowing white gown - c
ontrary to what one might expect.

  And every Evil Queen’s got to have her throne, right? It’s made of the black marble. The only thing not black in this room, is the floor. It’s a deep gray with black and white marbled veins.

  Next to the throne is an alter, bowl shaped, with blankets. Little one-year-old Morgan is in the middle of it, not moving. Spelled maybe. There’s a group of robed figures dancing slowly and chanting to the left of the throne. More like swaying really, in the middle of the room. And there to the right, hanging high above it all is Lucien.

  He’s unconscious and gaunt, and the pillar he hangs from matches five others spaced evenly throughout the room - that eerie black marble that the very walls are made from. Torches line the wall, but most of the light is coming from the ceiling, where one large circle skylight is open just above her center stage. It’s a very macabre and medieval scene.

  “Independence. I’ve been waiting for you.” Her voice hurts my ears with its vibrational energies.

  The chanters swell their voices cacophonously, and my hackles rise. It doesn’t take a genius to see that she’s got some kind of magical sacrifice going on here.

  “Let’s not make this hard. Come forward so we can talk.”

  Grayson’s hand reaches out and snags my wrist. He shakes his head. He doesn’t want me to play into her hands.

  “Your little guard dog can come too.”

  Together we walk her long hall, coming to a stop ten feet or so at the base of her throne area. There’s three steps up to the platform, then her chair.

  “I’ll exchange your life for the dhampair’s.” She indicates Morgan lying unconscious on the altar. “I’ll even let him escort her home for you.”

  It’s a pretty generous offer. But I don’t trust it.

  “And Lucian?” I tip my head in his direction.

  Her eyes narrow.

  “He -”

  I don’t wait for her to finish her sentence, instead I pull my side piece from my thigh holster and pop her twice center mass.

  She falls back into her throne and I yell at Grayson. “Get Morgan! I’ve got Lucian!”

  Her minions meanwhile scatter and scream, and I see that they are wearing chains under their robes. Slaves.

  Witches, pressed into doing her bidding.

  I take a deep breath, steady my arm, and fire at the chains holding Lucian up.

  Three rounds and I only manage to ricochet shots. “Shit.”

  Do I believe two bullets from a nine-millimeter will put down some hoity-toity fairy? No. But I did believe it would buy us time. Time to get Lucian down, time to get away. Time that we are now running out of.

  Grayson has Morgan in his arms, and is stopped mid-way down the room, while the slaves speed past him.

  Everyone stops.

  She rises, uglier and with all her might, diaphanous wings spread wide, hair floating unnaturally from her head. Her glamour has fallen, or she’s decided to show her true self.

  “YOU!” She points a gnarled index finger at me. I feel a splash of cold power hit my head and fall through my body. I want to turn to Grayson, but nothing happens. I can’t move.

  Out the corner of my eye, I see a dark gray furred mass run full speed at Nevaeh.

  He plows into an invisible barrier just two feet from her.

  I'll hand it to her, she learns quick.

  She shouts to her minion-slaves and they scramble, back to the front of the throne room, picking up Grayson and then scrambling back out.

  Ok. I close my eyes. My hero has just exited the game. But. Wait.

  I closed my eyes! She doesn’t have complete control of me.

  “The time is soon.” She says it quietly enough I’m not sure I hear her.

  I’m concentrating on moving my fingers. Just a little. I can.

  I open my eyes and see that she is turned away from me.

  “Utu’s blood to open the gates.” She turns fully to me, and holds her palm out to her left side.

  The Valkyrie’s blade appears in her hand. Summoning swords. Great power.

  I’m jealous. And just who is Utu?

  She lifts her head then, looking up through the skylight.

  “You think I need rituals? You think I need witches?” She spits the words with disgust and twists her gaze back to me.

  “I am the Queen of the world to be united. Ruler of ALL magical creatures. Balancer of Life.”

  A power pushes down on my head, and my legs collapse. I register one thing though. I resisted.

  She raises the sword in her hand.

  Begins the downward motion to disconnect my head from my body.

  In a flash, our two blades meet, three inches from my neck! I did it, I broke her hold. And in the nick of time too.

  She hisses and flies back.

  “Ah. C’mon, Nevaeh. You didn’t think it’d be that easy did you?” I stand.

  She comes full force at me, and I parry and defend. Never really thought I’d be fighting for my life with a sword. I thought it’d be like Algebra. A skill you learn but never use.

  I smile a little at my thoughts. Do fairies know about algebra?

  Sparks fly when the metal rings together. She is playing at being the Mack truck - forceful direct attacks that are reverberating up my arms with each hit.

  I’m tiring. She slashes at my low belly, and I spin at the last second. The sting at my hip lets me know that it was still a hit.

  I squat, sweeping my leg out to take her feet out from under her. She disappears.

  In an instant that I feel the air move, I spin, blocking her from thrusting that sword into my back. My own sword flies out of my hand with the force of the blow.

  We stare at each other from a few feet apart, processing what just happened.

  She has a magical upper hand now, revealing that she can pop into and out of existence. She does just that, popping out of my sight. But my own preternatural senses tell me she’s materializing to my left, and I reach into the air and grab whatever I can of her - intending to hold her in place, or pop out of existence with her - I’m not sure.

  I move only with instinct.

  What I end up with is the wrist of her hand that holds the sword raised above us, halting her downward thrust. With my other hand, I reach out and clasp her neck, squeezing. It's a battle of strength now.

  I hear a dull thud curiously come from between our joined bodies.

  I pull back and see the dagger pressed against my belly. It’d been stopped by the body armor! I drop her sword hand, and as quick as I can, reach for that dagger.

  She drops the dagger almost into my hand, and we break apart in mutual force. I have the dagger, she has the Valkyrie sword.

  She smiles. Lifts the sword up, and examines it’s blade. There is blood on it.

  I take stock. I see that there is a tear in the fabric of my right arm sleeve along the forearm. I do my own inspection. With the adrenaline pumping through my system I never felt it; Now that I see it, the sting and ache comes to the forefront of my mind competing with the sting and ache at my hip.

  She whips the sword down, touching the point to the floor.

  A wind blast emanates from that point, like a bomb goes off. But that wind blast is everything magic and powerful. A rush of recognition and rightness flows through me.

  The floor itself, erupts in light geometric patterns running underneath the marble.

  “Thank you, niece, for your cooperation. The gates will now be open!” She spreads her arms wide, looking a hundred times crazed. Niece?

  I take my chance, throwing the dagger in my left hand straight at her.

  It hits her square in the forehead. A look of surprise comes across her face a second before she falls backward.

  This time I don’t wait. I pick up the sword at her side, and swing true.

  Her head comes cleanly off her body.

  There’s thunder behind me, the rushing people coming into the hall.

  Roman, Dare, Torren and Grayson.r />
  I’m woozy. The adrenaline coming down and the blood loss. I kneel before I pass out, and when my bloody hand hits the floor, a flare of straight power quickens through my blood.

  My world flares white. I am…

  Chapter 39

  “Child of light. Wake.” His voice comes to me first.

  Awareness of my body comes next. I’m laying on my stomach, arms pillowing my head.

  I open my eyes and know, this is not reality.

  I am on a sugar-white beach, coarse grain sand beneath me. When I flip over, sit up, I see endless turquoise blue waters stretched out before me. This is the beach I often dreamed about getting to. Resting on for the rest of my life. Retiring to coconut-cups filled with pina coladas and mai tais.

  The sun is warm, white-gold on my shoulders, unreal in it’s perfection.

  There’s a...being beside me.

  “You may call me Utu.” He’s tan, muscular, platinum blonde with sparkling blue eyes to match the sea. He wears a long piece of blue cloth sarong-style about his hips, is bare-chested and bare-foot.

  His face is handsome, yet, normal. Photogenic, but plain.

  I stand, wipe the sand from my palms.

  “At the risk of sounding cliché...where am I?” I ask while looking left and right down the beach.

  “Everywhere. Nowhere.” Is his answer.

  “So…” I cock my head to the side, “…I’m dead?”

  “No. Your body is very much alive on the Otherside. Your conscious is just here, with me. In this third realm.”

  “Why?” I ask.

  “A collaborative conference to provide you answers. A predestined arrangement.”

  “Predestined, huh?”

  My mind flashes to that last scene in Harry Potter.

  Is it all in my head?

  Doesn’t make it any less real.

  I start walking determined that if this is all just in my head, I’ll wake up soon.

  Utu starts walking beside me.

  “Who are you anyway?” I ask after ten minutes of walking.

  “I believe in your terms, I’d be classified as your father.”

  I stop walking.