The Heir of Ænæria

by Thom L Matthews

  “Rose, over there, four Rhion closing in on someone!” Trinity shouted, pointing her finger.

  Rose found where Trinity was pointing. The Penteric soldier took cover behind a pile of empty ale barrels, firing her pistol sporadically at the advancing Rhion. Most of the shots seemed to miss, though one Rhion did fall to the ground. Two of the remaining three were armed only with melee weapons, and the third returned the soldier’s fire with bullets of his own. The wooden barrels splintered, the cover diminishing by the second. The woman was cornered, as three other Rhion raced toward the sound of gunfire. Rose shot the gunman first, then loosed an arrow each into the backs of the other two. The soldier noticed that the fire had stopped and peered out to see that the path was clear. She ran from cover, probably looking to regroup with her comrades.

  She made it a few yards before an arrow sprouted through her neck.

  Rose winced, then answered her companion’s killer with an arrow of her own. She felt a dark satisfaction as she watched her arrow make its way through the Rhion’s own neck.

  A long string of explosions spilled through the air. The sound of automatic rifles. Rose brought her attention to the town hall and watched its guards spray bullets in all directions. Signs fell, windows shattered, and people screamed. Rose felt her satchel and noticed she was running low on arrows. She nocked her bow and took out one of the riflemen.

  “I’m running low!” Rose yelled over the noise of the battlefield. This isn’t right, she thought. There are too many of them! It’s as if they were expecting us! The traitors mentioned in the letter must have been responsible for this.

  “Keep shooting,” Shadow said. “I’ll be back.” He disappeared down the hatch.

  Rose drew another arrow and, for the first time that battle, she missed her shot. The Rhion backed away behind a pillar just after she released her shot. There was a dull clatter as it bounced from the stone column. The Rhion noticed that he’d only just narrowly escaped the clutches of death. He peaked from behind the pillar before Rose could send another arrow. He had enough time to gather where the shot originated. Bits of wood and stone exploded, rubble flying this way and that as the bullets showered the watchtower. Rose only managed to find cover at the last moment, though not without being spared the bite of lead. A hot jolt shot through her, radiating to the tips of her fingers like pins and needles dancing across her arm.

  Trinity evidently noticed the blood soaking through Rose’s sleeve. “Blazing wastes, have you been shot?” She crawled to Rose, bullets still pattering against the wall. “Lemme have a look!” Trinity cut through Rose’s sleeve to expose the skin. Rose’s heart pounded, and her breaths came faster and faster.

  Not here. Not now, she told herself as she was summoned back to being bled by her father. It was a gut-wrenching and debilitating anxiety. She couldn’t hold her bow, her grip loosened, and it dropped to the floor. She felt nauseous and dizzy. Her arm throbbed and something sharp scrapped away at her skin as if it were being eaten from the inside. Then it stung, burning like hot irons being pressed against it.

  “It’s out. You’re lucky it didn’t break into pieces.”

  Rose opened her eyes and looked to Trinity. Between the jaws of metal forceps was a dripping red piece of misshapen metal. Trinity dropped the tool into a metal pan from her pack and placed a piece of fresh cloth over Rose’s shoulder. “I cleaned it with some antiseptic, but I’m hesitant to sew it shut. Bullet wounds are pretty dirty. Better to let it air out and continue treating it. You’re lucky. It wasn’t very deep.”

  Rose kept breathing heavily. Part of her wasn’t even there. She was stilled trapped on Svaldway with Julius. The pain wasn’t just in her shoulder. It was all over her body. Her wrists, her elbows, her neck…

  Among the cracking of rifles and hollering of men killing each other, Rose didn’t hear the man climb the ladder and enter through the hatch. She jumped with a start when she saw Shadow hovering over her.

  “What happened?”

  “Shot in the shoulder, but I’ve removed the bullet and nothing major was hit. She’ll be fine.”

  Shadow frowned. “I should not have left,” he said solemnly and then put down a bundle arrows that he’d retrieved from the battlefield.

  “Trinity, do you have anything for the pain?” Rose asked between her rapid breaths.

  “Well, yes, but I don’t think now—”

  “Give me some. I can keep fighting with it.”

  “Rose, you really shouldn’t be fighting with that stuff in your system. It dulls the senses. You’ll react slower, an easier target. You won’t be as lucky.”

  “Without it I’m useless!”

  “And what use are you if you’re dead?” Trinity yelled in retort.

  With her uninjured right arm, Rose grabbed Trinity by the collar. “I am your queen. Give me the medicine. That’s an order.”

  Trinity’s expression was one of shock and bitter disappointment. Her eyes no longer met Rose’s, and she moved to her pack to retrieve the poppy and pipe. A boot landed atop the pack and slid it across the floor.

  “No,” Shadow said. “Our position has been compromised. They may think they’ve killed her, but rest assured they will come to the tower to confirm and take the position for themselves. We will stay here and ward off any attacks. Nothing else.”

  A hot fury washed over Rose. Her cheeks turned red hot and her hands clenched into fists. “You do not have the authority to order me around! You are here to serve and—”

  “Aye, I’m here to serve. There’s no use serving a dead queen. You’re more useful alive than you are trying to shoot from here. With that wound, you won’t be able to hold the bow long enough to aim and shoot at any significant distance.”

  Rose punched the floor, furious. She couldn’t sit here and remain useless, nor could she keep facing the pain and flashbacks.

  Suddenly, Trinity was on top of her. Rose fell back against the wooden floor and then realized that Trinity had just knocked her out of the way. Someone else had ascended the tower while they’d been distracted. A Rhion with a pistol and short sword. Just as Shadow had predicated, someone was coming to claim the tower. A single shot rattled off, though it met only the stony wall. Shadow moved swiftly on the balls of his feet. The pistol cracked again, this time heading straight for Shadow. It all happened quickly, so Rose thought she misinterpreted what she saw; it appeared as though Shadow had deflected the bullet with his swords and ricocheted it back at the Rhion. The man was still, and the pistol clattered to the floor. Shadow thrust a powerful kick at the Rhion, sending him back down the ladder. There was a faint cracking sound a second afterward.

  Shadow retrieved the pistol and removed the magazine before tossing the gun over the tower wall. “We do not need any extra loaded weapons lying around,” he said while putting the magazine in his belt. After that, he stood patiently by the hatch and waited for more Rhion to dare ascend past the broken body that lay at the bottom.

  In all the commotion, Rose’s agitation settled, her mind forced back into the present. “Thank you,” she said to both Shadow and Trinity. She closed her eyes and tried to focus on being anywhere but there. Anything to make the fear go away.

  The bursts of bullets slowed, and from then on there was only the occasional twang of a bowstring, a cry for help, or an exclamation of triumph. The fight was coming to an end, though for which side, Rose could not say. Even as she tried to peer down from the tower, Shadow and Trinity stopped her. She didn’t pull rank on them again as she had before because she felt indebted to them for saving her life. Still, they shouldn’t be stopping her from being a valuable asset to this fight because of some title.

  At last, someone else climbed the tower. This time, Shadow didn’t immediately send them to their death. Because this time, it was no Rhion. It was Kristos. His hands and face were covered in drying blood, though little of it appeared to be his own. “We’ve done it,” he said. “Parvidom is ours!”

  25

&n
bsp; Ben

  Kokopolis, Ney

  A screw loosened; Ben bit his lip to hold back a curse as it clattered to the floor. The candle died out hours ago, and dawn’s light had hardly crept through the windows. Ben had spent the early hours working on Hüginn’s broken wing in the dark. The raven’s eyes had the capability to emit a dim light in the dark but only while fully operational. Ben had deactivated the creature while repairing the wing that had broken in the fight against the ferals. Despite its injuries, Hüginn had still managed to make its way back to Ben—ever the loyal beast it was.

  The darkness faded like a torch against shadows. Color drained, but the images of the room sharpened. Ben’s pupil expanded, absorbing all the slivers of light creeping through the windowpane with only the slightest of headaches. There’s the screw. It had rolled off the bed and landed comfortably against the wall by the foot of his bed. The room went dark again; Ben didn’t need the night vision now that he’d memorized the screw’s location.

  His hips shifted while he fought against his limp, cast legs and reached down to the floor. Using the bar above his head, Ben hoisted himself over to his wheelchair. He rolled across the room to the screw and smiled. Gotcha. As he readied himself back into bed to complete his work on the raven, a knock broke the silence.

  The bedroom door opened, lantern light illuminating the room to reveal two familiar faces.

  “Look who’s back from the dead,” Mandi said matter-of-factly. She walked to a corner and leaned against the wall, arms folded and hood raised. Her cloak covered her arms, but not enough to hide the edge of bandage peeking out at her wrists.

  Darius set the lantern down next to Ben’s extinguished candle and clapped him on the shoulder. “How’re you feeling, man?” Like Mandi, his arms were wrapped in bandages, stained with dried blood. He just wore simple trousers and a plain beige tunic. The only personal effects that Ben knew Darius owned was the sun-sword, but since Mandi got her cloak back, maybe that meant they had their belongings returned.

  Ben rubbed his shoulder. “Still in pain. Thanks for that.”

  The smile dropped from Darius’s face.

  Ben smirked. “I’m messing with you.”

  “Oh no, he’s joking—Mandi, I think he’s broken!”

  Mandi feigned a laugh.

  “Hey, is that Hüginn?” Darius pointed out, noticing the still bird’s body resting in Ben’s bed.

  “Sure is. Fixing him up after the battle. It’s a wonder he even got back here with his wing. Say, have you two seen Sierra around?”

  “Ran off after you as soon as you jumped into the river,” Darius answered. “She actually dragged you out of the water after you went down the falls. Haven’t seen her since. Think she’s steering clear of the scouts since she broke free of them and wasn’t supposed to interfere with the trial.”

  “What are the bandages from?” Ben asked, pointing to Darius’s arms. He didn’t comment on Mandi’s since she was obviously trying to hide hers. Except I can still see them. She isn’t normally sloppy. Something is up with her.

  “Hüginn’s not the only one whose wings were clipped in the fight,” Darius answered. “Mandi and I actually came back to get some medicine and a dressing change.”

  “Oh, so you’re not here to see me then?”

  Darius cracked a smile and took a seat next to Ben. Mandi stayed right in her corner. “Gus told us you were up and doing better.” Her eyes scanned Ben up and down. “But seeing you now, you look worse than I imagined!”

  Darius rolled his eyes at Mandi, which she most certainly noticed. “Are you going to be able to walk again, Ben?”

  “I’ll be fine. Few broken bones, but those have always healed quickly in the past.”

  “It’s more than just a few broken bones,” Mandi said with acid in her voice. “Gus said you were having seizures, too. Said your body was colder than any living person he’d ever felt before. What you did was reckless. You put our mission—all of our people—at risk by jumping into that river!”

  “Will you let it go, Mandi?” Darius intervened. “He’s back, and he’s doing better than the healer ever thought. Thank the Sun for that.”

  Mandi scoffed and crossed her arms. Her jaw was raised in an awful scowl. She wasn’t even trying to hide how upset she was. What’s wrong with her? He tried changing the subject. “Did we get our weapons back?”

  “Weapons aren’t allowed on anyone but scouts in the residential and commercial districts,” Darius answered. He took a breathy sigh and looked up at the ceiling. “They’re locked up in the armory.”

  Good, Ben thought. He couldn’t risk losing the Voidsweeper. Especially with his current condition. His powers simply weren’t refined enough to rely on alone. Fighting against the ferals was one thing. They didn’t have weapons of their own and—so far as Ben could tell—neither did they have any skill or strategy behind their attacks.

  “What happened after I fell into the river?”

  “You didn’t fall, you jumped.”

  “Mandi!” Darius hissed.

  Why’re they being so snappy with each other? They weren’t exactly best friends before, but I thought things were getting better. Ben knew he had to do something to make them act more civilly. His best idea was to ignore their prattling and redirect the conversations. He cleared his throat. “Tell me what else happened.”

  Darius answered, unsurprisingly. Only arguments came from Mandi’s mouth. “Well, almost all the ferals jumped in after you. Fortunately for us, they don’t swim very well. Then, despite how angry she’s acting about you going in, Mandi wanted to jump in herself to save you. I held her back, and Sierra ran downriver looking for you. By then there were only a few ferals left, and instead of spilling more blood and attracting more, we were able to trick them into falling in the water, too.”

  “He says it like it was all his idea,” Mandi corrected.

  “It wasn’t yours, either, it was Liv’s.”

  “The wastelander girl?” With everything else going on, Ben had forgotten about the wastelanders. They just seemed so irrelevant with all else that had occurred. “What happened to her and the others?”

  Mandi looked at Ben scornfully. “Why don’t you come visit where we’re staying and find out.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “We’re stuck with them!” Mandi all but shouted. “Where’d you think we’d been staying? Some exclusive place to ourselves like you in this infirmary room? No, we’re sharing it with the wastelanders who made it through the trial!”

  Ben imagined they were staying at an inn or someone’s house. He did not expect everyone who passed the trial to have been crammed all in one place together. “How did that happen? Don’t the Orks know we’re not allies?”

  “Like it matters to them. There’s only two of us, and more than two dozen wastelanders. If they wanted, they—"

  “It’s really not that bad,” Darius said, cutting Mandi off. “Mandi and I have a room on the floor above them. There’re Orks guarding the place, making sure no one stirs up any trouble. For the most part, they’ve stayed out of our way.”

  Mandi turned to Darius with an icy stare. It was weird seeing Darius act with a level head, and he’d never seen Mandi so explosive before.

  “They don’t all leave us alone. You’ve gotten real close with the girl who tried to kill us just a short while ago.”

  Ben looked at Darius quizzically.

  “It’s not like that. She helped us when the ferals attacked. She could have run away, but she didn’t. And she did more than defend herself—she saved us multiple times. We wouldn’t have made it here without her help.”

  “You can’t be so blind as to confuse self-interest with acts of kindness,” Mandi argued.

  “What if we’ve got the wastelanders all wrong?” Darius asked. “I mean, how much do we really know about them?” He looked serious, too, and Darius was often one of the last people Ben would expect to consider the differences of outsiders. It must have
been the outcome of being away from Ænærian propaganda for the first time in his life.

  Ben considered this. He’d had limited experience with wastelanders, living within the safety of Freztad most of his life. Those he’d interacted with fit the typical picture painted of them. They’d attacked his village, killed his friend, and kidnapped people as slaves. This particular group attacked them in the middle of the night. After they’d been defeated, they simply ran off, abandoning their comrades.

  Then he tried seeing it from their point of view. With no land to call their own, no homes to take shelter, what else were they supposed to do to survive? They’d been right when they said their settlements would never take in wastelanders. There was no trust, nor any system in place for them to earn it. Except the Orks do. Maybe not perfect, but not terrible. It punishes those who turn on their comrades, with consequences erupting soon after the first drops of blood. Those who work together, survive together. A test of how well they can interact within civilization. If enough wastelanders had made it through the trial, then maybe that proved that they didn’t all work out of self-interest. Those wastelanders who escaped after the fight at the camp during their first encounter hadn’t been running away but were actually gathering reinforcements. When Ben thought about it this way, he wondered if the wastelanders weren’t so different. After all, he had done the same thing to save Rose from Julius. The Penteric Alliance was doing it now, going to war to protect their loved ones.

  Ben spoke, unsure how they’d react to what he was going to say. “You know, for people who’ve never had formal training, they’re really good fighters. And, just hear me out, what if we could convince them to ally with us?”

  “Are you kidding me?” Mandi exclaimed. She was no longer leaning against the wall, instead standing up straight, nearly hovering over Ben with a shadowy terror in her pitch-black cloak and hood, as if she’d suddenly transformed into a demon. “I can’t believe this! You two keep letting your guard down and end up getting burned by the enemy!”