She spoke slowly, clearly annunciating her words as well as she could. It took a tremendous amount of concentration to do on top of keeping it deep and masculine. “I am Longinus,” she pointed to herself, then to her Rhion. “These are my companions. Do you understand?”
He squinted unkindly at each of them. “Ja. Venderstond.” He pointed to the short sword at her waist and then to the Rhion as a whole with his spear. “Why yu arun all hier?”
Longinus pointed beyond the village and explained while also gesturing with her hand and fingers that they were bound for the mountains. “We are looking for something.”
Something flashed in the man’s dark eyes, and a low growl reverberated through his throat. He shook his head slowly and pounded his chest while saying something that sounded like, This is our home. We do not wish to be disturbed.
Slowly, Longinus reached for her side sword. The man eyed her carefully. She unsheathed the steel blade and let it drop point first into the browning grass. It was meant to be a gesture of peace. Apparently, the native took it to be a gesture of weakness. As soon as the tip of the blade touched the ground, he reached for his revolver. He was remarkably fast for a man his age, and had he been facing anyone else, his aim would’ve been true. Longinus’s eyes never left the location of the revolver. As soon as his arm moved for it, she was off her horse and out of his line of sight. The gun went off, and in the time it took him to pull back the hammer for another round, Longinus had already pulled the trigger on her sung. His ashen face within the molten metal helmet met the ground with a dull thud.
Shouts bellowed from the mounted natives down the field. They charged with their spears and lances extended, points thirsty for blood. The Rhion stirred, ready to answer the call to arms with a charge of their own. Longinus ordered them to stay back. They were at a significant advantage right where they were.
“As soon as you have a shot, take it!” she commanded.
One by one her officers let their bullets meet the freedom of the air. Men screamed, clutching their bellies, their arms, their necks as they fell from their horses to the dirt that would be their graves. The enemy archers let their arrows loose. Longinus took cover behind a nearby tree stump. She crouched low and pierced the prongs of her metal hooks into the dead bark, then propped her sung overtop the steadied prosthetic for stability. She aimed through the scope. A quick and light tap followed, and one archer was dead. She pivoted slightly and found the next one. He looked around cluelessly, attempting to determine where the fiery blast had come from, only to be too late. The riflemen were not. They’d stopped their charge shortly after the fight had begun. Bark exploded this way and that as the first bullet nearly found its home in Longinus’s skull. She freed her prosthetic from the stump and moved farther behind it.
A few of the other natives approached within her field of view. They made it farther than she’d hoped with a group of Rhion firing at them, though it was hardly a surprise considering most of them wielded handguns which were notoriously inaccurate at such ranges. It was a small blessing from the Sun if one managed through an entire magazine without misfiring or jamming.
She turned a dial placed on the sung’s handle by her thumb to the medium setting. She focused on the ground between the group of riders, holding the trigger until it vibrated through her hand. She released, and a wide blast of yellow-orange light engulfed the attackers. The horses whinnied in agony and bucked off their riders. The men fell to the ground, some rolling in the damp grass to soothe burns and blisters that would never heal. Some had fight left in them, grabbing for the blades by their sides. The Rhion reached them first, plunging their own weapons into their hearts.
Another bullet crashed into the weakening tree stump. Splinters of bark and wood flew in all directions. It was a more powerful shot than the first. A different weapon? No, they’re getting closer! All her men’s attention had been drawn to the explosion she’d caused, letting the gunmen approach quickly. Heat flared from her sung. It would take a few more minutes to recharge after such an attack—maybe more with the clouds getting in the way of the Sun’s power.
She crawled slightly alongside the stump and watched a bullet fly by, just barely missing her head. Her heart pounded at the near-death blow. It could have been all over in just an instant. No warning; no time to think on her sins. No time to regain my father’s honor or reclaim my name. She hid with her back to the splintering trunk. She took deep breaths to calm herself, waiting for the instant her sung buzzed back to life. More gunshots rang through the open field, bullets being exchanged between her Rhion and the two gunmen.
Amid all the chaos, she felt the ground shake like earthly tremors. Horses, she thought. The village had sent reinforcements. This is bad. Her men would run out of bullets sooner or later, and they were terribly exposed out in the open like this.
She heard a man shouting orders and saw Nico directing the Rhion in the battle. They stacked corpses atop one another, man and horse alike, creating barricades behind which to hide. Charred flesh and congealed blood were smeared over their faces and cloaks as they worked their defenses.
The bark exploded again—this time taking out a hole size of a fist through the side of the stump. Her sung was still radiating heat, not yet charged for battle. She wouldn’t sit there waiting for the next shot to kill her. She peered through the new opening the hole created for her and saw the gunmen were only a few yards away. Just close enough for her to try something crazy enough to work. She only had one attempt at this. Wishing she had her side sword still with her, she removed the metal claw prosthetic from her forearm once again and examined the points. They were sharp, but would they be sharp enough? After all, she’d chosen to wear this more often because of its potential as a weapon.
Longinus leapt beyond her cover, throwing the claw as hard as she could while diving to the ground in midair. The claw spiraled top to bottom until it landed true in the knee of one of the gunmen’s horses. The mount cried and toppled over, right in the other horse’s way. The second horse tripped over the first and fell the ground, the sudden stop throwing its rider over itself and landing atop the other rider. The second rider crashed into the ground, and his rifle flew away from him. Longinus was back on her feet in an instant, rushing for the gun. The rider crawled in an attempt to reach the weapon. She picked it up just as his fingertips touched the barrel. She readied the weapon and fired directly at his forehead.
Longinus pulled back the bolt handle and let a bullet casing fly, cocking it for the next shot. She counted another dozen or so men riding her way. The horses weren’t as close together as the last two had been. She aimed for them anyway, looking for a different result. She fired as she ran back to her sung. Four of the steeds fell, some crushing their riders beneath them. She slung the rifle around her shoulder and retrieved the sung. It was cooling down—almost ready to be safely reused without the risk of exploding on her.
She twisted the dial to its third setting. Small short bursts of light fired rapidly like an automatic weapon at the remaining horde of natives. The extra cover fire was enough to give the Rhion time to recover. The few remaining natives retreated back to their village.
“Forward push!” she yelled, and the Ænærians mounted the remaining horses. Many had to share. Longinus realized at this point that her steed had died in the firefight. Hooves pounded the ground next to her. “Hop on!” Nico shouted, extending his hand to her. She took his arm and hoisted herself onto the horse behind him.
“Lead the charge to their gates,” she told him. “They’ll open them for their own men, and we’ll be close behind.”
“Is it wise to attack their village?”
“Are you questioning my orders? They started this attack. We’re just seeing it through. We have a mission to do, and I’m not letting some foreigners get in the way of that.”
The clouds poured open—the downfalls drenching their clothes and muddying the field. The Sun may have been blocked through the dark sky, but this
actually gave them an advantage. Ahead she saw the arrows rain down with the showers. A foolish move; the storm’s wind and rain must have made it impossible for the archers to distinguish friend from foe. These were inexperienced fighters, unrefined by battle like the Ænærians.
They arrived at the gates only seconds after the remaining natives. Longinus and the Rhion nearly avoided being locked out. The archers continued to release their arrows on her and the Rhion. One of her men took an arrow to the knee. The archer was immediately met with retaliation; he didn’t live long. An archer in the opposite tower tried to pick up where his comrade left off and was met with the same fate.
Upon closer examination, the gate was less fortified than she had anticipated from her initial assessment. The towers on the ends were made of stone sure enough, with moss and lichen creeping along the sides. Between the towers, the gate was more wood than metal or stone. There were few weapon-made blemishes in the wooden wall; its integrity had mostly been the victim of poor upkeep from the elements. Tunnels made by termites and wood rot were obvious.
Longinus had marched through swamps to the field with thirty men. Now she had eighteen and herself. Some had stayed back, unable to ride on after the initial fight. Other legates may have thought those to be acceptable losses, but with the contrast in skill and weaponry, there should’ve been far fewer. If they were going to continue this fight, she wanted to know enough of them would survive to make it to the Vault and make camp.
When all were ready, she had them stand clear as she aimed her sung over the side of her horse. A moderate setting should be more than sufficient. She propped the sung over the stump of her right arm and let the charge loose. A great fire engulfed the gate and shattered the wood.
Their horses poured through the smoldering gates like specters in the smoke and rain. The village was filled with small red brick hovels scattered haphazardly on the hilly ground as it made its ascent to the plateaus and mountains. Winding gravel roads slithered between the houses and occasional sickly-looking pine trees. Few villagers roamed the streets during the invasion. From her quick glance, Longinus estimated fewer than two hundred people could live in this small of a village. With such a small population it was hard to imagine there were many fighters remaining. In small towns like Sun Reach—where she’d grown up—there was only one guard for every fifty people. Then again, Limmetrad’s little village had an unusually high number of trained guards.
A volley of arrows met them as they breached the gate. Horses toppled over, bucking their riders. Some brave villagers with pitchforks and butcher blades advanced on the fallen Rhion and were met with swords spilling their guts. A young boy and his mother scurried across the street, banging on doors to be let inside. Longinus didn’t give them much thought until a Rhion chased them into a corner and cut them down. A sickly feeling of remorse stirred within her stomach. These people would see today as a slaughter of innocents, and Longinus had to remind herself that they’d been in her way to the Vault. What were a few more bodies if it meant Ænæria’s victory?
The Rhion fired their guns sparingly, bullets whistling by only here and there. Metal clashed against metal. Hoofbeats thundered, rain pattered on stone, and men and women wailed. It all twisted into a triumphant ballad as Longinus and her comrades soared through the village and decimated the resistance.
Atop the rising land at the opposite end of the village, Longinus and Nico were the first to discover the pass into the mountains. She commanded Nico to wait. He pulled back the horse’s reins, and they slid to a halt. They observed the valley beyond. It formed between the green and brown tree-covered landmasses that looked like the head of a sleeping giant with a shimmering blue eye. Their destination was in sight.
They waited for a few more riders to catch up with them before continuing on. Five horses, ten fighters, Longinus noted. Had the rest been killed or were they still pillaging the village? It must have been quite some time since any of them had had the opportunity to raid. With each passing year, there had been fewer and fewer enemies for Ænæria to crush. It would be a good day for morale. Not just because of whatever they found in the Vault, but for the glory and thrill of battle. Longinus knew the feeling well. She knew it best when she fought in the arenas. Those days were gone. If only she could enjoy the pillaging with the others.
She raised her sung into the air and uttered a cry of victory. The Rhion raised their weapons in reply. “Forward!” she yelled. Nico kicked the mare’s sides, and they rode onward.
The sounds of screams and gunfire grew dormant by the time she and the others reached the Vault door. Only swirling pillars of smoke lasted as any sign that something in the village was amiss. The door itself was a sight to behold. Longinus had always wondered what the Vaults truly looked like. Whenever Uncle had explained it to her, he made them seem like some mundane affair, yet Xander himself described them as the Sun’s own heavenly home on Earth. She’d been near two other Vaults in her lifetime yet never had the great fortune to see them with her own eyes. One had been but a few days ride from her now decimated home in Sun Reach; the other on Svaldway.
The door lay in the rockface almost seamlessly yet was clearly not of any manmade design; the metal itself looked to be of another world. It was a deep black—darker than even the night when the moon dared not show her face in the sky. Etched within its face were blue runes that glowed and pulsed as if it were a living being. Longinus dismounted and approached the door with slow apprehension. She did not feel worthy to be in the presence of such a monument to the divine. She felt the black door with her bare hand, slowly tracing the glowing blue runes. They were hot but did not burn, feeling like the touch of the sun on her back in the early morning. Though the runes radiated heat, the black metal was itself cold. Nothing she’d touched had ever felt so cold. She’d seen ice and snow only in the northernmost lands during winter, and this felt impossibly colder.
She took her hand away from the Vault and pulled forth the necklace from beneath her collar. What was so important about Limmetrad’s blood that granted him access to the Vaults? They were meant to be Xander’s. He was the Chosen. Her true hesitation came not just from her lack of understanding of the Vaults but from the failings of those who came before.
“Is something the matter?” Nico asked. He wasn’t the only one to notice her hesitation. It must have been obvious to the other Rhion. She had always been a master of disguise, and now these men could see right through her.
Longinus swallowed hard and shook her head. She removed the amulet from around her neck and held it out in front of her. “This is supposed to be the key. I just don’t understand why my uncle thinks it will work.”
“I wondered why you wore that. I didn’t notice it on you when we fought the rebels at Yalliknok. If said it’s the key, then you must believe him. He’s the king, after all.”
“Xander was a king, too. In the end, even he couldn’t enter the Grand Vault.”
Nico took her hand in his. They were warm and calloused. His touch gave her comfort. She wanted to cherish the touch, having not felt such a connection since the death of her parents. Duty called her, and providence lay ahead. She must not lose sight of the mission. She took back her hand from Nico. Her hand formed a fist, and she placed it against the center of the largest rune on the door. With the ring touching the glowing blue, Longinus pressed her fist against the metal hard until the blood gem shattered.
The runes flickered, and the glowing blue faded. With her heart racing, Longinus took a step back. Had she done something wrong? Where did the light go?
And then it changed. The lines and curves and shapes took on a bright green like that of a glowing emerald. The ground started to shake beneath her, and a crack appeared down the middle of the door. The black metal door split in two, and the gap widened until the doors slid into the mountains, disappearing from sight.
The Vault opened, and a shining white light beckoned her to enter. Longinus looked at Nico and smiled. He smiled back
and nodded forward. Longinus glanced at her fellow Rhion, all sharing the moment of awe and exaltation. She took a deep breath and stepped into the Vault, the Rhion following close behind.
14
Ben
The Eastern Wastes
The air was sticky like day-old stew and smelled just as foul. Boots sank and sloshed in the muddy banks as they pushed obstacles out of the way—sometimes even the sun-carriage itself. No great distance would be covered today, but they were still on the fastest path. Right now, it made more sense to cut through the wetlands instead of taking yet another detour north for leagues in search of smoother land.
Clouds of gnats buzzed all around as if rushing to a feast. Both Mandi and Darius kept their faces covered with sun-goggles and scarves and swatted at the nasty pests. Ben was unperturbed now that he knew he was immune to any illnesses and suffered only the slightest of inflammatory reactions from a fly’s bite. The only thing he did need to worry about was the sun, which had burned him many times in the past.
By nightfall, they had finally crossed the worst of the wetlands and found a dry place to camp away from the marshes. Sierra prowled around in search of fresh meat while Hüginn surveyed the area. Darius worked on the fire while Ben and Mandi put up the tents—as was their routine since Ben had learned of Mandi’s fear of fire. It must have been awful for her to grow up in a kingdom that worshiped a god of fire with weapons that char the skin. There were only two tents between them, and both were rather small. Not that it mattered, since Darius had been stuffed in closer quarters during his years as a Rhion, and Ben’s room back home was hardly any bigger itself. Ben had trouble sleeping most nights anyway.
Well past midnight, Ben left their tent. He approached the edge of the nearby lake and placed his feet in the cool water. The scintillating sparks of fireflies reflected over the lake like tiny, moving stars. A lonely frog croaked from across the lake, only to be answered by the chirping of insects and occasional rumbling of the sky. Ben propped his head up against Sierra and stared at the clouds slowly drifting past the last of the Fish Moon’s light.
The Heir of Ænæria Page 16
