“Watch out for the lady, watch out for the lass,
She’ll skin ya and eat ya’ and do it with class.
For ne’er a man who could steal her away,
For he’s sure to be dead by the end of the day.
With hair of summer’s gold, and hips made of light,
She weaves a magic spell under the moonlit night.
If her lips you do kiss, and her hand you do hold,
Then beware good sir, for your body goes cold.”
Astrid stifled a giggle, for clearly the man was drunk on rum or spirits of some sort. Her chortle gave her away and he stopped singing at once.
“Eh! What ar’ ye doin ‘ere?”
Cayden went around the man and hit him over the head with the hilt of his sword. The large man fell to the floor and instantly began snoring. As they passed him, Astrid nearly choked on the stench of mead that permeated the air around him.
“Phew, he’s going to need a weeklong soak in lavender to get that stench off of him,” Cayden laughed, as they stepped over his slumbering body.
Astrid shook her head, not knowing what to say in response. “I don’t know, but we need to be quiet.”
She motioned for him to follow her. They reached the end of one alleyway and came to another. Both ways looked the same, but from where they stood, she tried to picture where she had seen the dark tower on the outside. From her memory, she figured it to be to the left, and followed her instinct.
Astrid had been right, and descending the castle steps coming toward them, King Armand’s husky form came into sight. Emmeline was right behind him, but he shoved her back, causing her to fall against the steps as he pulled his sword and rushed at them. His eyes glazed over, black as night, and for the first time in a while, Astrid felt the bitter taste of fear as she readied her bow.
The king ran toward her so fast, Astrid wondered if she would have enough time to loose an arrow, but Cayden was already a few steps ahead of her, rushing headfirst, sword held high, ready to battle the man to the death. The king did a forward roll, ducking below Cayden’s attack and bringing himself closer to Astrid as he jumped to his feet and swung his sword down at her head.
Astrid fell back, and flipped herself to the side, ducking away from his attack.
“King Armand, leave the girl alone. Neither of us want to hurt you, we simply want to talk,” Cayden pleaded.
Astrid struggled to get to her feet and get her balance. She grabbed her bow, which had slipped out of her hands, and held it upright as she aimed it at the king.
Emmeline, now on her feet, rushed from the stairway and made her way to Astrid, ducking behind the woman.
“I’m sorry, I don’t know what else to do,” Emmeline’s voice quivered in fear.
“It’s fine, just stay back. Are you all right?”
Emmeline nodded, her face tightly scrunched, crystalline eyes fighting back tears.
Cayden continued to defend himself from blows by the king, and Astrid kept her bow trained on the man in case he managed to hurt Cayden. Their blades were a flurry of blurs as they crossed from left to right, high and low. Astrid was impressed with Cayden’s skill. She knew he was an excellent fighter, or at least, she’d seen him battle a few times. But she never saw him against such a skilled opponent. His skill rivaled that of her sister, Svana. Astrid had never seen another sword fighter with as much skill. She watched as the two of them changed between sword forms.
Astrid had learned all the sword forms with Svana and Hekla, but it was really Svana who excelled so much at the sword. Astrid imagined that was why she was given the sword over herself or Hekla.
Cayden moved flawlessly, parrying against several strong swipes of the king’s Lion’s Hunt sword form. At first the king had tried The Tiger Swims Upstream, but Cayden’s skill with the form Waterdrops Against the Cavern was flawless. Astrid had never seen the form performed so elegantly, and Cayden was able to stay in the form while the king changed his sword form to almost a dozen different varieties. The king was growing increasingly frustrated. Astrid could clearly see why Cayden had been the captain of the king’s army. He was skilled with a sword, and his demeanor during a fight was calm.
“Your majesty! Please!” Cayden said.
“No! Silence your pleas, I will not hear them!” He swung his blade down, hard, the clang echoing throughout the hallway. Astrid worried it would attract the attention of more guards, and then they would really have a battle on their hands.
“Uncle, I am begging you. This woman and I, we’ve come to help… please just trust us!”
The word uncle caused Astrid’s breath to catch in her throat. The king was his uncle? Why had he held back that bit of info? She felt her anger flaring, but just then, the king slammed his sword down, breaking through Cayden’s defenses, and sliced into his right arm. Blood immediately poured out, and Cayden dropped his sword to grab the wound, which from Astrid’s point of view, looked deep. Cayden began walking backward, but the king followed him, his sword raising high as if to deliver the killing blow.
“Stop!” Astrid yelled.
The king raised his sword again. He paused, turned, his eyes glaring at Astrid. King Armand ripped a dagger from his belt, and threw it at her so swiftly, she had no chance to react. She let an arrow loose in defense, but it missed its target. In that moment, as she questioned how she had missed her mark, her shoulder let out a searing fire of pain, and she realized King Armand had struck her. Now, sword raised above his head, she could see the king’s dark eyes meant to kill Cayden.
Emmeline screamed loudly, voice breaking as she sobbed out. “No! Please don’t, uncle… please!”
“You’re better than this, Uncle!” Cayden said through clenched teeth, his hand raised above his face, as if trying to protect himself from sudden death.
“That’s where you’re wrong, Cayden. You’ve always thought you could save me, that you make peace with Aequoris and Caelestis, but you’re wrong. You will always be wrong. It’s too late for them, and it’s too late for me. Now—” The king paused for a moment. “It’s too late for you.”
Astrid watched in horror as the blade seemed to slice through air in slow motion, there was a brief flash of flesh, the sound of tearing and another scream. Astrid didn’t realize the scream had come from her, and laying across Cayden, the pale, elegant body of the Emmeline, who somehow had managed to throw herself in the way of the king’s blade, taking the impalement herself straight through the side of her stomach.
“No!” Cayden pushed Emmeline off him.
He watched helplessly as blood began to pour from Emmeline’s side, her arm dangled at an oddly strange angle.
The sudden clang of metal on the ground caught both of their attention, and they looked toward the king to see that he had dropped his sword and was beginning to step backward. A look of terror in his eyes. The black that had invaded his eyes had disappeared, and instead a soft brown gaze watched Emmeline. His eyes widened, and his hands trembled as he looked on, his face contorted, as if a deep sorrow and regret overtook him. Astrid could see the sadness in his face at what he had done, but she didn’t care. She loosed arrow after arrow at him, striking him in the shoulders, the legs, and anywhere else that would leave a flesh wound.
He roared out with each arrow that struck him, but he didn’t attempt to fight back, nor dodge the arrows. When Astrid finally reached him, she used her bow to hit him over the head, knocking him out. He was bleeding, but nothing deep enough to kill him, and she would tend to him soon enough.
Turning back to Emmeline and Cayden, she noted that he had ripped his shirt, and tied the fragile woman’s arm inside of the fabric. It was too soon to tell if she would lose her arm, and Astrid wished that Hekla was nearby so she could work her magic and heal the woman who had saved Cayden’s life.
“Is she going to be all right?” Astrid asked, dropping to her knees, startled by the woman’s pale face.
“I don’t know. I need to salt the wound. We nee
d to get her somewhere comfortable where she can rest, I’m sure there’s a servant or two who can help.” He looked down at the fragile woman in his arms. “Why in the Unseen One’s green Earth would you risk your life to save me?”
Blinking slowly, barely able to open her eyes, tears falling freely onto the soft carpet, she whispered gently as her uninjured arm reached up to touch his face. “Because,” the white-haired beauty breathed softly, “you’re my brother.”
50
Svana
Preparation is half the battle. The victor is often the general who crafts the best plan, and that plan always accounts for the unexpected. You cannot plan without predicting the possible unexpected events and outcomes.
Nuldronian, The Protector, Fifth Dragon Elder, Sixth Age of Verdil
Svana couldn’t risk a look back over her shoulder to see if King Armand was following her or not. Her only focus was to reach his advisor and kill him once and for all.
The main hallway of the dark tower had many rooms, and each door that she thrust open only revealed more empty rooms. Then she found a door that didn’t give when she tried the handle. She grabbed it again and tried to shake it open. It refused to open.
“Ha,” she said aloud as she tossed her deep red hair over her left shoulder. “I know you’re in there. If you won’t come out, I’m coming in!”
There was no sound, and she took several steps back, finally running at the heavy door and throwing a high kick at the wood. It flung open, and on the opposite side of the room, the advisor watched her, his dark, black eyes glaring down his nose at her.
“Well, it took you long enough,” he said in a raspy tone.
“Maybe because you are a coward who wouldn’t just come out and face me…. Are you afraid?” Svana smirked, flipping her hair back, as her free hand reached around and unsheathed her sword.
“Do you really think that a common girl would be able to fight me? I have magic on my side, and if you choose to fight me, it will not end well for you,” he said, gray brows furrowing angrily.
“If I choose to fight you? There was never a choice. You have destroyed this kingdom, and so therefore, I must destroy you.” Svana’s voice was determined, her eyes drinking in the room as she looked for possible ways of escape.
She had to prepare herself in case he decided to make a run for it. There was only one small window to the North of the room, and he wouldn’t be able to fit through it, aside from that—the large chamber was sparsely furnished. A humble bed, and a writing desk with parchment and an ink pen.
In the corner, a chamber pot, I’ll make sure to avoid that area, she laughed to herself.
Be careful, Svana, there is much darkness in him. I will not be able to save you if he kills you. I don’t have healing power like Speltus. That is his area of expertise.
I’ll take my chances, she answered back.
“You can do that, but I don’t think you’ll like the outcome,” the advisor answered her thoughts.
“You can read my thoughts?” she asked.
Rather than answer, the advisor withdrew his sword, and immediately glided across the room, bringing his sword down on her. Svana had to react quickly and saw the glint of red as their blades collided. She kicked her blade to the left of the room, and cartwheeled over, grabbing it back up as she repositioned herself to have a better advantage on the man.
In the next second, she could feel her body being lifted in the air, green sparks circling around her, levitating her above the ground.
“Using magic to render me useless so that I can’t fight you? How very brave of you!” She yelled out, angry that he had gotten the best of her. “I knew you were a dark wizard; I just didn’t know how you had this much magic. Word is, only dragons can give magic.”
The wizard cackled evilly, throwing his full head of gray hair back, then he dropped her. She landed wrong on her ankle, and she could feel the jolt of pain that flared up her leg.
Lingaria, I’m not strong enough to fight him.
In the next instant, a red flash of sparks and light thunder through the air, and then her dragon guide was there, wings flapping angrily, tail swishing back and forth.
“Who gave you your magic!” Lingaria yelled, “Tell me or die!”
The wizard laughed again. “If you do not know, then your magic is weak, and I don’t care what you say. I’ll kill you both.”
Lingaria gasped, which was an odd thing for a dragon to do, and it immediately set Svana on edge. She knew it took a lot to shock a dragon and wondered what it could mean.
“If you were given your magic by a dragon, as I suspect you were, and you used that to kill another dragon, your fate will be worse than death. There are certain things that are simply not done, and the Unseen Ones will ensure that you are condemned to an eternity of pain such as you have never known.”
“Well, then,” the wizard said sinisterly, voice dripping with malice that permeated the atmosphere. “let’s just test that little theory out, shall we?”
He advanced on them both, and Svana jumped in front of Lingaria, swinging her blade with vehemence as she sliced at the man’s robes. She landed a hit, but there was no flesh to cut.
The dark being looked down at his velvet robes, his eyes black as the night sky as he looked up at her. “You cut my robes, now I’m going to cut you!”
He thrust his hand, palm out, at her, and a small orb of fire flew directly at her face. Her heart stopped, and she swung her blade up, attempting to deflect it. She missed, and the orb swished passed her face, singeing her hair. The smell invaded her nostrils, and she watched in dismay as a clump of her hair fell to the floor and burned away.
“Noooo!!”
Angered, Svana charged after the wizard, hair flowing wildly like flames behind her head, as she swung her blade again and again. Each time she missed, each time fueling the fire of her soul more and more. The wizard was quick—quicker than she imagined. He dodged from left to right, spun, and used his bare hand to smack her across the jaw. She took a step back, repositioning herself as he threw an orb of fire at her. Svana ducked, rolling to the side and positioning herself on one knee, sword held high, eyes focused on him.
The wizard threw another fire orb at her, but she wasn’t afraid. He could burn her alive for all she cared, and she would fight him until her flaming body ceased. For Svana, her life didn’t matter. All that mattered was the life of the Tellurians, and of her sisters. If she had to sacrifice herself in order to protect them, she was willing. Her jaw hardened as her eyes scolded him.
“Fiesty, aren’t we? Do you think you actually stand a chance against me?”
Svana didn’t justify his question with a response, and Lingaria moved in, breathing fireballs of his own at the wizard. It wasn’t much, but it was enough distraction for Svana to drive her sword into the wizard’s shoulder, cutting him deeply. It didn’t penetrate but dug deep through the top of it with the bottom end of her blade. She smiled at her small victory, but her expression faltered when he didn’t offer her the slightest response. He didn’t flinch, nor did he even move from what he was doing. His eyes twinkled as he studied her. A moment of silence and forboding passed between them.
The wizard laughed at her. “A flesh wound will not stop me.”
He lifted the bed next to him with magic. A green glow encompassed underneath the base of the bed, and Svana watched, horrified, as it spun around and finally went flying toward her. She dropped to the ground, rolling out of the way, but the bedpost shattered and hit her in the side. Svana groaned in pain.
The wizard stood over her, his eyes gleaming with wrinkles at the edges, and his cracked black and brown teeth set in a wide grin. His staff slammed into the ground at his feet as he peered down at her. Light fizzled at its tip—magic radiating as it built up to almost bubbling over like a pot of boiled milk.
“The difference between you and I,” he said. “is that you are mortal, and I am not.”
Lingaria came out of Svana’s sw
ord and put himself between the wizard and her. Svana’s eyes widened as she reached for the small dragon, but the wizard already released his magic. A fireball, larger than a helm, rushed at Lingaria, hitting him so hard, it knocked the scaly beast out of the air, spiraling to the ground across the room. Svana turned to look at her dragon, but Lingaria’s eyes closed after he struggled to get to his feet.
“No!” Svana yelled out, worried for the safety of her dragon guide.
Svana jumped to her feet again and rushed at the wizard. The room glowed alight with greens and reds that indicated magic at work. When she reached the wizard, he picked her up and threw her against the wall, and though the pain was blinding, she got to her feet and ran at him again, her sword raised.
“Keep going, little woman. I can do this all night.” His voice cackled, burning a hole into her soul.
“I will not stop until you are dead,” she said weakly as she charged him again.
“Or… until you are,” he said with an upturn of the corner of his lips.
Lingaria raised his head and struggled to his feet. With much effort, he rose in the air, hovering behind the wizard and working to keep the wizard distracted with small spits of red fire.
Svana groaned loudly as she tried once again to steady herself to face the wizard.
“You can’t come up with a better line?” she asked as she swung at him again, throwing her body into the blow, hoping against hope that it would land true and inflict some real damage against the wizard.
Her sword flashed at him, entering Swat the Bee. She didn’t know what other sword form to use. Her brain was fried, and her strength was failing, and all she could think of was how much of a pest this wizard was—like a bee… an annoying bee that needed a hard stick. The key factor she had to remember was she didn’t want to be stung. Her energy was limited, and one sting might end her. She focused her weapon true, and it intercepted several of his magical strikes until he was forced to switch to his own sword. Svana hoped she would have an edge on him when it came to sword fighting, but she realized just how wrong she was. His skill with a sword not only rivaled hers—it exceeded her own.
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