by Paris Hansch
Slowly but surely, the battlefield had become more jumbled. There were no lines, no sides. The chain of command for both armies seemed scattered, and there were fewer soldiers now. Anton took a moment to breathe and checked his surroundings. His eyes widened. He’d pushed too far ahead. Amidst the steam, he couldn’t see a single gray cloak.
Several Lanadese came at him from different directions.
He tugged sharply on the reins in panic, his horse rearing. Anton clung to its mane, accidentally inhaling a handful of horse feathers and immediately launching into another sneezing attack.
Not now, he thought. He’d managed to keep it relatively under control, but now, his eyes were watering like rivers. He swung his sword aimlessly at the first barbarian. It didn’t connect, but the barbarian fell all the same. Something sped through the air, taking down his attackers in one swoop.
Anton steadied his mount, searching behind him. A hand suddenly grabbed his, and a figure pulled itself onto his horse. He whirled his head around, coming face to face with Sara.
“What the—”
She was panting, and a trickle of blood ran down her forehead. She reached out to catch her chakram with one hand and looped her other around his waist.
Anton froze.
Sara kicked the horse’s flanks, and it took off. He scrambled to grasp the reins again, turning back toward their comrades, but the extra weight was throwing him off balance. He tried to shuffle forward, and Sara held onto him tighter.
“We must reform—” she shouted, her lips just touching his ear. He jerked backwards at her contact, surprised, his head smashing into her nose.
“Really?” Sara exclaimed, clutching her nose.
Anton winced, rubbing his head. “Can’t you ride with anyone else?” He was tempted just to give her the horse so that he could escape the situation.
Sara’s grip tightened. “Well, pardon me for saving your life.”
“I can handle this,” he growled. Why was she clinging on so tightly? She was tolerable from a distance, sure, but right now, she was far too close.
“Clearly. Your horsemanship is appalling.” She yanked the reins from his hands, looping her other arm around him as she guided them back across the battlefield.
“That’s your fault,” he spluttered. He had to admit, though, that she was getting them out of danger.
Sara exhaled, her warm breath tickling the back of his neck. “You’re such a hard-head, both inside and out.”
Anton rolled his eyes. “At least my hard head isn’t as pointy as your nose.”
“Great, that’s just what this empire needs… another true gentleman.”
Anton gritted his teeth, then pointed at another rider. “There’s a horse. Go get on it.”
Sara flicked her hair over her shoulder, her nose upturned. Her retort was drowned out by a loud horn, the deep pitch cutting across the battlefield. Everyone turned toward the sound.
“Calverans,” Anton whispered.
The Lanadese untangled themselves from the battle, reforming their line. They cheered and stomped the ground, parting their ranks down the center as the Calverans marched onto the battlefield.
Anton guided the horse back toward their soldiers, joining the hasty regrouping. His nervousness had returned full-force.
The half-giants marched in perfect rows toward them. They had to be a least ten feet tall. Like trees themselves, their bodies were built for a life in the high canopies. Emerald green cloaks were draped around their shoulders, and they wore little else. Each carried a white stonewood spear taller than themselves and a long-pointed shield strapped to their arms, bearing the Calveran crest—a great stonewood tree.
Standing next to Cynric hadn’t been nearly as intimidating as this. The simple Anadese steel swords would be no match for these opponents. They may have been hanging on by a thread until now, but it was plain to see that this would be the beginning of their demise. Even Sara hadn’t said anything.
Their own men shuffled backward into each other, but there was nowhere to go. Alexander was shouting from a distance, and Ban was pushing his way to the front of the right flank. Anton steeled himself as a moment of silence bound them, each soldier waiting for the other’s first move.
The horn sounded again. This time, the Calverans and the Lanadese advanced.
27
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Alexander
Alexander spurred his horse, leading the rest of his exhausted men with a cry. Things were going from bad to worse. He hadn’t heard word from his brother or his general yet, their troops were scattered and, now, the Calverans were advancing. Throughout the battle, Lord Tamar had held back, staying within sight but always out of reach, as though he were taunting them—or simply biding his time. Now, Alexander knew why. He gripped his Golden Dawn, taking out a barbarian with one swoop.
A Calveran charged at him, and he ducked, the spear narrowly passing over his head. He rammed his blade through his opponent’s abdomen, and the half-giant collapsed on top of him, knocking him off his horse. Alexander kicked at the body, straining to push the Calveran off, but he felt as heavy as two men. With another heave, he rolled out from underneath the corpse, withdrawing his sword with a grunt.
The battlefield was in utter turmoil. His men were falling with little resistance now, their weapons splintering against the stonewood. He pushed away from the ground, launching himself at another barbarian.
It’s not over yet.
His sword was a blur, an extension of his arm. He didn’t pause, didn’t stop. There was no time for calculations, no time for strategizing. Only survival. His clothes clung to his sweaty body, and the steam radiating from the plains was almost unbearable. The Lanadese had the advantage now; they were used to this kind of heat. But for Alexander, it only amplified the smell of death, as the bodies had already begun to rot in the midday sun. Even his toes could feel the heat through his boots.
He blocked an incoming strike, pushing back against the axe. He saw another swinging at him out of the corner of his eye, and he knew he didn’t have time to block it.
Then, an iron glaive came into view, knocking the axe off course. The figure spun, striking both enemies with the blades on either end of his polearm, though it didn’t seem to be with the sharp side of the blades.
Alexander stumbled back, peering at the figure. He wore his dragon mask, but his black leathery attire was easily recognizable.
“Ryuko?”
Ryuko nodded, targeting another Calveran and wielding his weapon with ease. Alexander fought alongside him, their attacks falling into an easy rhythm. Ryuko’s sword had power, and his glaive had reach, shifting with every strike, changing and morphing at will. Alexander stole a glance at him every so often. He must have been sweltering in all of that black, but he didn’t have time to question it. If he wanted to pass out in the middle of the battle, that was his choice.
As they fought, he realized that Ryuko seemed to be avoiding the Lanadese entirely. In fact, he hadn’t seen him this entire battle, not even at the beginning, when they met with Lord Tamar. Alexander sidestepped a barbarian deliberately, and Ryuko took him down with a blow to the side of the head—a non-lethal blow. So, he wasn’t mistaken. Ryuko hadn’t killed anyone when they went to Lanadrin, either, yet he had no qualms with killing the Calverans. There was definitely something strange going on.
A second sword joined alongside them—another familiar figure he hadn’t seen for a while.
“Why are you wearing that mask, you fool?” Kakeru shouted over the noise.
“None of your business,” Ryuko replied. Two Lanadese came at him at once. Ryuko dropped to the floor at the last moment, sliding beneath their swings. His glaive curled backward and struck the back of their knees. Again, non-lethal. Alexander narrowed his eyes. He’d definitely seen it that time. That was hesitation. If Ryuko didn’t want to kill the Lanadese, why was he even fighting with them? It didn’t make any sense.
“If you could
see properly, you wouldn’t be having so much trouble,” said Kakeru, finishing them off.
A spear narrowly grazed Alexander’s arm, drawing a thin line of blood. Kakeru used the earth to propel him, launching himself skyward and driving his sword into a half-giant’s stomach.
“Pay attention! I knew I’d have to keep you out of trouble at some point,” he grumbled.
Alexander ignored him, catching his breath and glancing around. They were getting pushed farther and farther back as an endless stream of enemies poured forward. They needed to retreat and regroup. Kakeru backed into him, and they were suddenly surrounded. The three of them stood back to back as the Lanadese encircled them. It was too late to retreat. Several barbarians jeered, waving their weapons at them.
“It’s not over yet,” Alexander said under his breath. It couldn’t be over. Mina’s smile echoed in his memory, then his siblings, laughing as they ran through the forest. He had to see them smile again. He tightened his grip.
No matter what it takes.
The barbarians paused, staring at their weapons. The metal itself began to shift, bending and twisting. In an instant, the blackscale axes turned to strike their wielders. Alexander blinked, his mouth slightly open. With his hand by his side, Ryuko’s fingers closed into a fist, and their enemies fell in a heap around them. Something rolled out from underneath his mask, dripping onto his boot. Alexander couldn’t tell if it was tears or sweat.
The few remaining Lanadese shuffled backward with looks of horror crossing their faces, their eyes flickering between the three of them.
“That’s the…”
“Which one?”
“It can’t be.”
“It’s the iron slayer.”
Murmurs rippled through the Lanadese, and Ryuko took a step back. His other hand covered his face, pressing tightly on the mask.
Kakeru nudged Ryuko in the ribs. “What’s going on?”
Alexander stared at Ryuko, thinking back to what Kakeru had told him at the iron foundry in Lanadrin.
Human statues were found encased in solid iron.
It could only have been Ryuko, the man with the power to shape metal. But it didn’t add up. The Lanadese were practically cowering in his presence now. Such fear could have worked out in their favor, but he chose not to reveal it. And if Ryuko had struck such fear into them in the past, it didn’t explain his behavior now.
The enemy soldiers began to part, making way for an entourage of both Lanadese and Calverans, and two lordly figures strode through the crowd. Lord Tamar’s eyes were murderous as he approached, his clothes soaked in blood. Alexander readied his sword.
“Where is he?” Lord Tamar shouted. He ran straight for them, swinging a mighty axe in each hand.
Alexander dove to the right, rolling on one shoulder to a crouch. It would be dangerous to try to block a handle made of stonewood. The earth suddenly split, and a deep chasm snaked its way between them, blocking Lord Tamar from his target. Alexander managed a nod at Kakeru. The gap wasn’t so wide as to be unable to leap over it, but it was wide enough to make someone think twice.
Lord Tamar spat into the gorge, narrowing his eyes.
“Calm yourself, Lord Tamar,” said the Calveran beside him, holding out his arm to stop his comrade. He must be Lord Cypress. Blonde hair swept past his neck, and emerald green and white attire draped around his slender frame. His entire person was completely spotless, as though he hadn’t just crossed a battlefield. There was an intimidating aura about him, and Alexander could tell that he was the kind of man who would stab his closest friend in the back without a second thought to get what he wanted.
Together, they were a frightening pair.
“Where is he?” Lord Tamar asked again, this time in a more menacing tone.
Alexander and Kakeru exchanged glances. Ryuko was nowhere in sight.
“Bastard,” growled Kakeru. “How did he even…”
Alexander didn’t blame him. Obviously, he had seen his opportunity and took it. They should have done the same. Visibility was poor across the plains, and the battlefield had thinned considerably. It looked like Kakeru was the only ally around. Maybe they could stall for reinforcements. Alexander straightened his back, clearing his throat.
“Who are you looking for?”
Lord Tamar’s face was scarlet, a vein bulging from his forehead. “The iron slayer.” Spit escaped his mouth.
“Why?” asked Alexander. Perhaps the so-called iron slayer was part of Tamar’s misguided revenge.
Lord Tamar’s eyes narrowed, and he grasped his axe, bringing it to rest on the floor with a threatening thud.
“Are you protecting them? Or perhaps it’s been you all along.” He took a step forward, his foot on the edge of the little cliff.
“This isn’t looking good,” hissed Kakeru.
Alexander kept his face blank. “I don’t know who you’re talking about.” Whether or not Ryuko was guilty, it felt wrong to point and run in the other direction, even though he had deserted them.
Lord Tamar bunched his muscles, readying his axe. “Liar!”
Lord Cypress held up a hand. “Our orders were to keep Lord Alexander alive, if at all possible, so please, don’t lose your temper. This battle is already won. There’s no need to exert excessive force to pick off the survivors.”
Alexander stared him down. What an arrogant sort. But whose orders were they following?
“I understand you have an individual by the name of Cynric with you,” continued Lord Cypress.
“What do you want with him?” said Kakeru, digging his fingers into the ground. Alexander wanted to nudge him to be a little less aggressive, but he refrained.
“I’m simply—” Lord Cypress paused, making a show of choosing his words, “—concerned with his wellbeing. Where may I find him?”
Kakeru’s grinding teeth were practically audible. “Not here.”
“Pity. Hasn’t left his ways, I see.” Lord Cypress tilted his head, a small sigh leaving his lips.
“And who is he to you?”
“Interesting,” Lord Cypress enunciated with a growing smile. “He hasn’t told you who he is.”
Kakeru stiffened, and Alexander had to kick him in the side. He might be an excellent fighter, but his words only ever seemed to escalate conflicts. Kakeru grunted, but the kick didn’t stop him from speaking up.
“Cynric is my comrade. The princess trusts him, and so do I. That’s all I need to know.”
Both lords began to chuckle.
“You’re more of a fool than I thought,” said Lord Tamar. “I was considering offering you a position in my upper ranks. A man of your skill doesn’t need to be around people like these. Turns out you’re just like the rest of them.”
“A fool, indeed,” said Lord Cypress, staring down his long nose. “How much do you really know them, these people you bet your life on? Do you even understand who the princess truly is? She’s a monster. A beast in human form.”
Alexander figured he’d have to stop Kakeru from lunging at them, but the man was still, and his eyes dropped to the floor. It was clear that Tamar and Cypress were intentionally trying to sow doubt into their minds. Alexander didn’t know much about this imperial guard, but he did know Mina. The real Mina—without obligations, responsibilities or a title. She was clever, headstrong and loyal, the kind of person who stood up against injustice while everyone else was silent. The servant who had never stopped being a leader.
Alexander shook his head. He may have never truly had a chance with Mina, but she was his friend. She had her reasons for leaving, but he was sure that she hadn’t abandoned them. She wasn’t the kind of person to do that.
“Don’t listen to him—”
“I’m not,” Kakeru said quietly. It didn’t sound entirely convincing.
“I tire of this,” said Lord Cypress, dusting off his robes, even though they were already immaculate. “Our imperial guests should be here soon, and we don’t want to miss them.” He turne
d his back on them, and his guards formed a tight circle around him.
Lord Tamar turned up his nose as he heaved one axe over his shoulder.
“You’re lucky I can’t kill you just yet. Stay alive long enough for the finale.”
Their men retreated, leaving Alexander and Kakeru staring at each other. Alexander couldn’t help but be a little relieved. For some reason, they wanted him alive. For now, at least. A large number of their combined army was still stationed against the cliffs, just watching the battle, or rather, the slaughter. It was as Lord Cypress had said; they didn’t need to exert unnecessary force.
Alexander turned in circles. The battlefield seemed quieter now. He saw his men, but they were mostly splattered across the plains in pieces. The fires had begun to die down in some areas, revealing blackened corpses in their wake. Emptiness began to consume him again. Was it even worth fighting anymore?
“What do we do now?” he whispered. He glanced at Kakeru and paused. The man hadn’t shaken that look off his face. It must have mirrored his own. Helpless. Lost. Afraid. Alexander gripped his sword.
No. It’s not over yet.
He was Lord Alexander of Anadrieth, and his people were still out there, fighting. He couldn’t afford to think like this. He grabbed Kakeru’s shoulder, shaking him to his senses.
“You aren’t taking what they said seriously, are you?”
Kakeru yanked his shoulder away. “I know who Mina is. Don’t you dare try and lecture me.”
Alexander stared at him for a moment. “Fine. Then pull it together.”
A familiar shout caught his attention. Alexander turned, but he couldn’t see from where it had come. He scanned the battlefield, and… There! He spied a crimson head in the distance and began sprinting toward it.
