by Paris Hansch
“I meant, why haven’t you all just left? This isn’t your fight.”
“Orders are orders.”
Anton’s horse drifted closer to his. “You can’t be serious. She even said they were her final orders.”
“She knows something we don’t.”
Anton shook his head. “But if she’s not coming back for you, why do you feel the need to obey her?”
Cynric stared at him for a long moment, and Anton shivered, tearing his gaze away from his eyes and looking at his chin instead.
“I don’t think you understand what loyalty means.”
Anton jerked the reins, and his horse shook its head, making him sneeze. Of course, he knew what loyalty meant; he was riding to his death for the sake of his brother and his people. If that wasn’t loyalty, what was?
“Says the man who rides against his own people,” he snapped. Cynric was Calveran, and there was a high chance that they would be there, fighting alongside the Lanadese.
“Loyalty is different to obligation,” said Cynric gently.
Anton was silent. There wasn’t that much of a difference, if you asked him. If he weren’t loyal to his people, he couldn’t fulfill his obligations, and if he didn’t have obligations, he couldn’t show his loyalty. He was about to retort when another voice joined in.
“He’s right. We’re loyal because we choose to be.”
Anton peered in the darkness, then blanched.
Oh, dragons, not her.
Hanabi nodded at him from Cynric’s other side, and Anton pushed his horse a little faster so that he didn’t have to look at her. He couldn’t believe her. She acted like nothing was wrong, that she didn’t just ruin his sister’s life. And now, she was lecturing him, too. He nudged his horse forward, widening their gap even more. No, he wasn’t going to listen to that at all. The farther he was from her, the safer he’d be.
It was a few hours before they arrived at the plains, though they were only the first of many groups. The soldiers began setting up a few tents and organizing their equipment per his brother’s orders, and several small squads ran ahead to prepare their traps. Anton rubbed his arms, wrapping his cloak tightly around him. He closed his eyes for a moment. It would be at least a few more hours until dawn, and Alexander was going to have a tough time raising morale in this state.
A heavy blanket landed in his arms.
“Here. Get some sleep if you can.” Cynric pointed to the medical tent into which some of the nurses were carting supplies.
“Right,” he said. Alexander was off finalizing their strategy with General Ban, Barrett and the others, so he wouldn’t be needed for at least a little while. Anton settled himself into the back corner of the medical tent, curling into the blanket. It was warm and inviting, with a hint of Cynric’s scent. His eyes closed.
Then, hands were on his shoulders, shaking him awake.
“Brother, wake up. I’ve been looking all over for you.”
Anton blinked slowly. He’d barely fallen asleep, and the green eyes were far too close to his face. He drew back, sinking further into the blanket.
His brother shook his head, pulling the blanket off of him. “Come on, it’s almost dawn.”
Alexander dragged him to his feet and out of the tent, and Anton yanked his hand back. He didn’t need to be led around like a child. Fixing his clothes and smoothing his hair, he followed his brother through the sea of faces as they made their way to the front.
Light spilled over the plains, and shades of brown and gray stretched forward endlessly, the cracks in the ground forming unique patterns. The barren earth seemed hazy as hot steam crawled across the ground. He could smell it from here—the faint scent of something rotting. It was thicker in some places than others, and he knew that that was where the dreaded tar pits were.
Steam erupted into the sky from a nearby geyser, then again from another. Even the Moonstone River—as magnificent as the waterfall over the distant cliffs appeared—was dull and gray here, as though life itself had been sucked out of the land. The Scoria Plains—it was a peculiar name. Perhaps they should have renamed it the Scoria Wastelands.
The soldiers fidgeted behind them, but no one spoke. All eyes were fixed upon the rocky pass, the only entryway to the southern regions for miles. But their army was entirely alone.
As Anton watched his brother pace back and forth, he felt his own anxiousness rise. “Should we have, perhaps, verified that that buffoon Dale was giving us accurate information?” he hissed.
Alexander paused for a second. “He’s an idiot, but he’s not a liar.”
Of course, he would trust Dale at face value. Someone could have bought him off or planted false information. For all they knew, the army he saw could have been trees. Maybe those berries had caused more damage than he thought.
“There!” cried General Ban, along with several others.
Or not.
Anton gulped. Figures spilled from the pass like water, slowly covering the other side of the plains beneath the cliffs. Decorated in red, the Lanadese filed out into organized regiments, their army growing larger with every step. Their bodies could have been a solid wall.
Their men paled, shuffling nervously. They were already outnumbered, and this was just the Lanadese. Anton shielded his eyes as the sun pierced the horizon.
Dawn had broken.
A small squad of Lanadese began riding out, their red cloaks trailing after them.
Alexander nodded to him and the others.
“Let’s go.”
24
Chapter Twenty-Four
Alexander
Alexander steeled himself. His heart pounded, and it was harder than ever to keep a calm demeanor. It looked like Lord Tamar himself was weaving his way across the plains on one of the handful of horses on their side. This might be their last chance to negotiate, but he didn’t hold out much hope. He spurred his horse on, with his brother, Kakeru, Sara and General Ban in tow. Every hoofbeat resonated in his chest. He didn’t want to admit that he was intimidated by Lord Tamar, but the little taste of his presence earlier hadn’t done him much good.
Both sides stopped in the center of the plains, the riders remaining on horseback. Alexander kept his head held high, but Lord Tamar sat taller than him on his hefty horse. He was at least in his late forties, probably older, with a broad grin that was as unsettling as a crowcodile. His chest was more defined than any soldier in their army, with only a deep red cloak covering the dark patterns and images that were inked onto his skin. Alexander wasn’t quite close enough to tell exactly what those symbols were, but he knew the Lanadese tradition was to permanently mark their greatest victories and treasures onto their skin. He shuddered. He couldn’t imagine having his own skin look like that.
Lord Tamar’s signature axes were strapped to his back, and Alexander wasn’t sure how his horse was handling all of the weight. The axes didn’t look as though they were heavy, with their long, spiraling handles and thin blades, but he knew that stonewood and blackscale weren’t things to be taken lightly—literally.
They stared at each other, and he suspected that Lord Tamar was waiting for him to speak first, perhaps to beg for surrender. He certainly wasn’t waiting out of kindness.
Alexander cleared his throat. “Lord Tamar, I’m going to request once more that you withdraw your army. Anadrieth has no qualms with Lanadrin. No one has to die today.”
Lord Tamar stroked the braids of his beard, a glint in his eye. “Oh, but they do.”
It was as he feared. He wasn’t going to be rational enough to negotiate.
Find the cause.
Alexander grimaced. It was far too late for that to matter, but maybe he could get some information out of him now that they were finally face to face. He studied Lord Tamar for a moment. Everything about his demeanor radiated confidence, and his expression was designed to provoke him.
Yet Lord Tamar had never demanded that they surrender. He knew he could win, but was he really willin
g to risk the casualties? Even for these barbarians, who enjoyed fighting, forcing an all-out war to satisfy that itch was difficult to comprehend. No one willingly walked into a battle without reason.
“You’re quite confident there, Lord Tamar. Though perhaps that’s just a front,” said Alexander, tilting his head to the side. “Surely, a well-trained and supplied army such as yours wouldn’t require an alliance with Calvera and the support of our prince to defeat our meager soldiers,” he paused for effect, “unless there’s something else going on.”
The grin on Lord Tamar’s face widened. “Playing ignorant, I see. How… dishonorable.”
Alexander gripped the reins tighter but kept his face neutral.
“So it seems,” he said. “Then, by all means, enlighten me.”
The smile faded from Lord Tamar’s lips. He looked down at his chest, pointing at the symbols on his skin.
“This is my wife, Lady Tahlia.” He moved his hand slightly. “And this is my little girl, Tia.”
Alexander wasn’t sure where this was going. “And this is my brother, Lord Anton.” He waved a hand to his right.
Lord Tamar’s expression darkened. “I thought you’d like to know that they had names.” He narrowed his eyes, and suddenly Alexander could sense the weight of a quiet rage behind that gaze.
Had?
“I commend you on how well you’ve remained inconspicuous until now, but there’s no point in acting innocent just because the princess’ lackeys are with you.” Lord Tamar nodded at Alexander’s companions, pure disgust now dripping from his gaze. “It’s not like she gives a dragon’s claw about it.”
Alexander had had enough. “Lord Tamar, I give you my word that I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Lord Tamar spat on the ground, and it instantly evaporated from the dry earth.
“Like the word of someone like you means a damn thing.”
Alexander shook his head. “Then, don’t you at least care about the peace the imperial family has fought so hard to protect?”
“Peace?” Lord Tamar snorted. “Don’t tell me you’re that stupid. The imperial family is nothing but a convenient front to cover the cracks in this empire.”
Alexander exhaled through his teeth. “We can be the first step to mending it.”
Lord Tamar shook his head, the rage creeping into his eyes once more. “You’ve had more than enough time to mend it. Instead, you chose to come pay me a little visit. I’d have challenged you to a duel instead of this, but you’ve only made me even more sure that slaughtering every last one of you is the only option.” His muscles were visibly tensing. “I’ll take from you what you took from me tenfold.”
“This is absurd,” said Alexander, unable to keep the distress out of his voice. “On my honor, we’ve done nothing to warrant this. Spare my people and take me, if that’s what you’re after.”
Lord Tamar didn’t miss a beat. “You’ve had your opportunity to come clean. If you believed you had a chance against us, fear not. The prince himself is in favor of your complete annihilation.” He turned his nose up, looking down on him. “You sealed your fate long ago, Alexander.”
Alexander stiffened. This man was insane. It wasn’t about land, wealth or power. He clearly had some misguided grudge that was severely clouding his rational judgment. This was personal. Was this all part of the Mistress’ plan? Alexander gritted his teeth. It didn’t matter. He wasn’t going to stand for this any longer.
“So be it, then. Anadrieth will fight.”
He signaled to the others, turning his horse and galloping back to their people. This was it. He was leading his people into war against a deranged tyrant. There was no turning back now. As they neared their camp, Kakeru pulled him aside, forcing their horses to slow down. He gave him a look full of contempt.
“Understand that this is suicide. But we have been ordered to protect you with our lives. Otherwise, we would not stay.”
Alexander nodded curtly. “I’d expect nothing less, and I appreciate your help. All of you.”
“Lord Tamar knows we can’t replicate what we did at Lanadrin. Their sheer numbers would overwhelm us, and we’d be out of action in minutes.” Kakeru narrowed his eyes. “But do anything stupid, and I’ll kill you myself.”
Alexander smirked. “Then, I’m afraid you’ll be out of luck.”
He took a deep breath, drawing his sword and riding up to address his soldiers. He thrust his sword into the air, and his soldiers did the same, their weapons rising up in waves, from the frontline to the rear guard. He had one last moment to rally their troops.
“Friends!” he cried. “We stand here today to protect our people, our land and our home! We will not bow to their steel. However mighty they may seem, all men are mortal. To fall here will be the greatest glory a man can receive, and I am honored to stand with you!”
Cries rose from their men, vaguely echoing their enemy’s cries across the battlefield. Alexander faced their foes, his eyes ablaze. The battlefield would soon bleed death into the river, and everyone knew whose blood it would be. Yet his people followed him, anyway. He would fight for their hope. He paused as Lanadrin’s army began to rush toward them. Then, Alexander looked to Sara, who nodded at him.
“Fire!” His cry was echoed by General Ban.
The first volley sailed across the battlefield, their flaming arrows soaked in oil. With Sara’s volatile brew spread across the tar pits, there was no escape. As the Lanadese ran past, the air around them ignited. Burning tar exploded around them, throwing blackened, sticky lumps in every direction. The pits turned to fire, with the flames sitting on top of the tar. Screams filled the air as the blaze landed on their bare skin. Some of them fell into the tar pits, and once the tar had grasped hold of them, it didn’t let go. It was over.
As they tried to move forward, their lines broke further as they stumbled around the battlefield. The layer of poison-coated caltrops was slowing them down, and even though their feet were tough, they were still pierced by the silverlight. The clear wood would break off into their skin like splinters, allowing the poison inside. It was a double-edged sword, though; the silverlight was almost impossible to see, and it was likely that the Anadese would suffer the same fate when they entered the fray.
Alexander tried to ignore the screams, keeping his eyes focused on the battlefield. Timing was critical. He signaled to General Ban again, and volley after volley shot past the Lanadese, this time, aiming for the ground behind them. Fire filled the air once more, taking the earth with it. A wall of flames began to form around the barbarians, the roaring fire fueled by the oil. It split their army in two, with those who charged first now with their backs to the flames.
“For Anadrieth!” Alexander shouted. The responding cries filled the air, and he led the charge across the plains. The Lanadese regrouped quickly, bracing themselves for impact. The first wave of their army raced across the battlefield, a sea of gray crashing against a sea of red. Despite everything, the Lanadese held strong, and their axes cleaved a path through their men.
Large black creatures flew past Alexander’s vision, and their razor-sharp claws tore into the barbarians’ flesh. Their pointed beaks held several rows of sturdy teeth, immediately ripping into their eyes and faces. The crowcodile trainers whistled and called the scaly beasts to pick off their targets, one by one. The Lanadese flailed and swung at them but met only air, their flying speed outmatching even the swiftest of men. He’d never truly seen them in action before, but they were just as terrifying as he’d imagined.
Alexander’s men used the opportunity to break the barbarians’ frontline, splitting their forces even further. He kept an eye out, but it didn’t seem like Lord Tamar had led this charge. Amidst the turmoil, men from both sides continued to fall prey to the black tar, with hooves and hands alike clawing at the air as the still-raging fires consumed them. Some of the Lanadese had begun to stagger around as the poison from the caltrops kicked in. Alexander struck down their men wit
h his trusty Golden Dawn, steering the reins with his other hand.
The ground beneath them rumbled, and the fissures in the cracked earth widened. Suddenly, everyone was scrambling for footing as parts of the earth began to cave in, leaving the grounds littered with deep holes. Boiling steam rushed up through the cracks, and the nearby geysers burst around them.
Alexander narrowly swerved his horse out of the way of a direct blast, but many men on both sides had been caught in the steam. Howls came from all around him as the soldiers clutched their melting skin and armor. A screaming man ran into his horse and fell backward, his face peeling and bubbling in a horrific mess.
Alexander fought through the crowd. Both sides had completely broken down in the turmoil. For a moment, they were all just people, scared and struggling to cling to life. The damp heat began to creep into his skin from a combination of steam and sunlight. Moisture and sweat mingled on his brow, dripping into his eyes. He could taste the salt, as well as something foul. The smell alone was almost as bad as the taste.
He quickly wiped his face, shouting at his remaining men to retreat and reform the line. The Lanadese had begun fighting their way through the fire, and a second wave was coming. Another wave of arrows soared over them, fueling the fires. They would be out of prepared arrows soon, and then their own second wave would be able to join them. Alexander panted as he rounded up his men.
The plains were already covered in bodies, but there were just as many Lanadese as there were his own men, and more of theirs were left standing, it seemed. Alexander took a few deep breaths. Maybe they did have a chance. As the second wave came to meet them, his expression tensed.
This time, Lord Tamar was at the front.
25
Chapter Twenty-Five
Adelia
Adelia was running through the snow. The wind whipped through her hair, and a grin was plastered on her face. Anton would never find her here. It was the perfect hiding place! Suddenly, the snow caved in from underneath her, and she was falling through the air, a searing pain shooting through her leg.
