by Casey Eanes
Rander refused. The crowd was booming, the sound like a roaring avalanche. She ratcheted down on him once more and whispered softly into Rander’s purple ears. “I’m only going to ask you one more time. The choice to save your life is in your hands. Tell them who I am, Rander.”
She stared at his eyes riddled with the red dots of broken blood vessels. His head bobbed with a nod and immediately Willyn released him. He flopped out onto the ground, wheezing for breath as Willyn pulled the knife out from the ground. She pointed the blade out to him as he wheezed, slowly lifting himself up from the sandy arena floor.
“Tell them, Rander. Tell them who I am.”
Rander looked up and the crowd hushed, waiting to see what would happen next.
Rander opened his mouth and his voice cracked over the multitude. “She is Willyn. Sar of the Groganlands.”
Willyn screamed at him, a wave of sheer passion sweeping over her. “LOUDER. SAY SO ALL CAN HEAR!”
Rander nodded and slowly stood. His voice thundered, broken but powerful. “REDS, BEHOLD. THE SAR, WILLYN KARA, SISTER OF HAGAN THE GREAT, HAS RETURNED TO US.”
The mountain range of Legion’s Teeth quaked in celebration. The chorus of screams and praise could be heard from the deep mountain caverns for miles around, filling the forests like some invisible chorus of joy.
The Sar had returned to the Groganlands.
Willyn immediately ordered Rander to receive medical attention. She refused the medics until they assisted him. As the team put Rander on a gurney, she was overcome with the realization that she would need him. He had nearly defeated her, and the mission of rallying the Reds would have been compromised. She was thankful for the realization that keeping Rander alive would be worth more to her in the long run than if she had killed him. This man, despite his failure to best her, had somehow controlled the raging mobs of the Grogan people in her absence, crafting their rage into a useful and sharp weapon against Hosp and his Surrogate supporters. This was no small feat. Rander had done much in her absence to keep the fires of resistance burning hot against Hosp’s forces. She limped off the arena floor as a second team of nurses and doctors washed over her, putting her on a rolling gurney. A fleet of examiners surrounded her, inspecting her body for any critical damage.
A young man spoke over the others to her directly as he scanned her with his eyenocular. “Madam Sar, all I can see is that you’ve got a broken nose and a few cracked ribs. I’m not seeing any more internal damage that needs assistance.” He held a light in her eyes, inspecting her pupils. “And perhaps a mild concussion. We’ll give you a boost to expedite the healing.” The doctor took out a syringe and drove the long needle into Willyn’s arm. She could barely feel it, and in an instant, the pain that had enveloped her body subsided. She ran her scraped hands through her hair and sighed, but she still felt rattled as if someone had scrambled her insides. The doctor spoke, his voice serious, “You are going to need to take it easy. The boost should help heal the broken bones in a matter of days, but you’ll need to rest.”
“Understood, soldier. Thank you,” said Willyn. The doctor stood, staring at her. He whispered to her with awe in his voice. “I knew it was you before the fight. You might not know this, but there had been rumors that you had arrived only a few days ago. We all thought it was a tale, but something about it felt real. When we saw you on the arena floor, we knew you had returned. We thank Aleph you are back.”
Willyn flicked a curly lock of raven hair and smiled. “My disguise didn’t do that much, I take it?
“No, madam, but it got you to us again, and for that we’re thankful.”
The doctor bowed reverently and instructed the others to leave her. Willyn eased up to a sitting position on the gurney. They had rolled her into one of the holding pins outside the arena. There, standing in the corner, was Bri, who had somehow snuck into the room with the medical team.
“You did well, little one. You have great spirit. Great strength.”
“Thank you, Bri. Do you have my datalink?”
Bri extended the tech toward her, the device looking dwarfed in his gigantic hand. She picked it up and booted up the screen. She looked at the giant sharing the room with her. “It’s time we contact Wael.” Bri said nothing but nodded in agreement.
Willyn punched in the coding for Wael’s secure line and waited. The screen regularly flashed the words ‘connection pending’ for several minutes before finally changing to ‘connection failed.’ Willyn grumbled and tossed the datalink to the side before looking up at Bri.
“When was the last you heard from him?”
Bri scrunched up his nose and glanced at the ceiling. “Um. Long time. We were on train.”
“That’s what I was afraid of,” said Willyn as she rose to her feet. “I have another idea.” Willyn reached down to pick up her datalink and punched several words into the machine. A newsfeed flashed up, revealing if there was any article or chatter related to Wael or Grift.
There was nothing on the feeds about Wael. It was as if his presence had been completely scrubbed from the datalink networks. There also were hardly any mentions of Preost, though that was not so surprising.
Willyn scrolled through the different bits of information before finding a military feed referencing Grift. He had been spotted in Lotte, and there was a lot of chatter around troops mobilizing toward his position. Several feeds discussed the bounties on his head. Another proposed that Willyn might be with him. The bounty had grown significantly since her escape from the Spire; up to nearly two million credits. Willyn sneered as she read through the posts.
Let them think I am in Lotte. It serves me well for now.
Flickers of worry regarding Grift danced in her head, but Willyn shoved those feelings away and allowed herself to breathe in a deep sigh of relief. Her time in the Teeth had worn her down. She was exhausted. A thought rumbled back to the front of her mind. Bastion. The thought of the demon in his glass cage sent Willyn’s heart into a flurry. Everything in her wanted to leave him buried under the mountain, hidden away by Bri, but her mind had put together the truth. The mirror would not be safe in the long term. Soon, Seam and Hosp would hear of her rise to power, and they would come looking for her. More importantly, they would come looking for the mirror. It had to disappear completely.
The thought of diving back into the heart of Legion’s Teeth caused a sweeping anxiety to fly over her. She waved for Bri to come closer before speaking in a hushed voice. “How quickly can we move the glass?”
Bri shrunk back and tilted his head to the side with a questioning look. His expression was a mixture of concern and disbelief. “Move? The demon stays.”
Willyn limped toward Bri and shook her head. “No, Bri. It has to move. Far away.”
“It is in good hiding. No one knows the tunnels.” Bri’s voice was stern.
“Have you not seen the other Realms, Bri?” quizzed Willyn. “Hosp and Seam will tear these mountains down to locate that mirror. They don’t care what stands in their way. I trust you and I know it is well hidden, but it is too close to its original location. We need to move it far away.”
Bri examined Willyn through squinted eyes before letting out a deep sigh. “This is right. The monk said the same.” Bri leaned down and placed his lips next to Willyn’s ear. “We will get mirror tomorrow night.”
Willyn studied Bri’s eyes and nodded, placing her hand on the giant’s shoulder. “Thank you, Bri. I could not have done this without your help.” She limped to her cot and examined the battle fatigues set out for her. “Can I have a few minutes, Bri? I need to gather myself.”
Bri nodded silently and slipped from the door. He was already gone as Willyn let her hair down. The room was quiet. Willyn sat on the cot and closed her eyes, drawing in a deep breath of cool air. All she could hear was the buzzing of the light overhead. Silence had the habit of unnerving her. The thought of the quiet made her think of her time locked away in the dank prisons of Elum, but this. This silence was wel
come. She took in another refreshing breath and examined her clothes.
She dressed, allowing herself to unwind. Soon she would step out and announce her place as the next Sar. It had been a long and horrible journey for her, one that, if she had the choice, she would have never taken. Her thoughts drifted over all that had transpired when a voice cascaded in her mind. It was the same voice that had haunted her for months. Hagan.
“Fight for me.” The words repeated until Willyn opened her eyes and jumped to her feet. She turned, scanning the corners of her small room, but she was alone. The voice and presence of her brother had felt so real. It felt like he was there with her in the room. She thought on the words and whispered a response into the silence of her surroundings. “I fight for you every day, Hagan.”
Willyn hurried to the pile of clothes laid out for her and flipped through what few belongings she had brought with her. There, underneath a few extra pairs of clothes, was Hagan’s hunting knife. She lifted the blade and examined it again, thinking of the last wild boar hunt she took with her brother before he was poisoned. As she peered down the blade, a small note fell from its sheath. Willyn carefully unfolded the note and studied the words neatly scribbled on it. “Rendezvous - Rhuddenhall - 5th district. Cortez Landing. 1100 - Novem month”
The words in plain black ink burned in Willyn’s mind. The note had been planted by someone since her fight with Rander. It had not been there before. She studied the dagger, turning the blade over in her hands, trying to make sense of the note. Everything inside quaked with dark suspicions. This is a trap. It has to be.
The one thing that would not stop gnawing at her was the location. When they were younger, Cortez Landing was the place she and Hagan would retreat to when they wanted to slip from their royal spotlight. High above the sparsely populated fifth district of Rhuddenhall, they would sit at the landing, overlooking the manufacturing plants below. The two had spent many nights peering down at the smokestacks and bright yellow lights burning below their secret space.
No one knew the significance of that place. No one except for Hagan.
Willyn folded the note and slid it back in the sheath, trying to cover up the suspicions swelling in her mind that maybe, somehow Hagan survived and was in hiding, waiting for her help.
“It’s a trap,” Willyn whispered to herself. “Don’t let your guard down.” She slipped the hunting knife into her utility belt and paced back down the hallway. She had a throne to reclaim and a Realm to unite.
Bri was waiting for her, his presence never too far away. He leaned in, whispering his dialect, blunt but melodic. “Rander. You should see him, no? Make an ally. We will need them.”
Willyn nodded. Ever since Bri had rescued her from Viga, Willyn had developed such deep respect for Bri. He seemed to keep her in a consistent state of awe. “You are very wise.”
He shook his head and spoke. “I’m just reminding you of the things you know.”
Rander lay on the sagging military cot, but struggled to his elbows upon Willyn and Bri’s entrance into the room. He winced at the slightest movement. “You should have killed me back there. You had every opportunity.”
“Why would I waste the life of a man who kept the fires of rebellion burning during my exile?” Despite the words leaving her lips, she still did not fully trust him. Trust or not...you need him, she thought.
Rander’s face mirrored her own. “You are the Sar. There can be no doubt. You proved that fact on the arena floor, but you haven’t explained yourself yet.”
“What have I not explained?”
“Viga.” Rander sat up further in the cot, speaking through gritted teeth. “You killed Viga in the shafts. Why?”
Bri’s deep voice broke. “I killed this man.” Rander threw a sidelong glance at Bri, his eyes intense and questioning. Bri continued, “I killed him. He betrayed Reds. He betrayed Grogan people. Allied with the jackal king.”
“I don’t know who you are, but I didn’t ask you for an answer.” Rander coughed and turned his gaze to Willyn. “Is it true? Did he kill him?”
“Everything he said is true,” Willyn deadpanned. “The man was a traitor.”
Rander shook his head. “What proof do you have?”
Willyn tried to examine Rander’s eyes as he searched her for answers. She wanted to find someone to trust, but there was nothing about Rander that helped reassure her suspicions that he might be as crooked as Viga.
“I overheard him in the tunnels. He was trying to unearth a weapon for Seam.” Willyn stared down the doubt on Rander’s face. “Viga was the one murdering those Baggers in the tunnels, and he would have murdered me too had Bri not stopped him.”
“What weapon?” inquired Rander. “I’ve never heard word of any weapon buried in the mountain. How can I trust you?”
Willyn stood and straightened her back. “You can trust me because I am your Sar.” The words landed like an iron weight. “And as Sar, I have one devotion and that is to the Groganlands. If you doubt that then you doubt this Realm and I have no use for you.”
Rander clicked his tongue and let out a whistle. “My apologies. I have grown accustomed to my place of power and trust does not come easy.” He paused, trying to find the words. Finally, he spoke, his eyes held high with strong, Grogan pride. “I will question you no further. You have my loyalty, my Sar. I am at your service.”
The tone was subdued and assuring. Willyn felt the fingers of doubt releasing in her mind, but she knew Rander would still have to prove himself before she gave him any real information. Willyn feigned a smile and nodded. “You are correct. Trust does not come easy for those of us burdened with the mantle of ruling the Groganlands.”
Willyn paced the cement floor for a moment before addressing Rander again. “What was your plan? This rebellion? What was your objective?”
Rander slipped back down into the cot and laid his head back. “Isn’t that obvious? Take back Rhuddenhall and disband the Council. You were a missing piece of all that, too. Now that you’re back, we won’t need to worry with a blood feud.”
The thought of a blood feud sent chills over Willyn’s skin. Visions of tribal chaos and war filled her mind. Without an established leader, the Grogan clans would each vie for power, each grasping desperately for the blood-soaked mantle of Sar. The Sardom had been established to keep the peace amongst the warring tribes, but the fears of a blood feud had not entered Willyn’s mind. She shook off the brief barrage of images and spoke. “I will see to it there is no more war within this Realm. Enough Grogan blood has been spilled over Hosp and the Council’s treachery. We need to move on Rhuddenhall quickly.”
Rander shook his head. “We will be able to move more quickly than you think.” He sat back up in the cot and motioned for one of the nurses. “Get me a wheelchair. We need to get out of here.”
“But, sir, um…we have orders to...” Rander flipped a bedside tray, spilling gauze, IVs, and syringes on the floor.
“I did not ask you for your orders. I gave you my orders.” Rander hissed through clenched teeth as he grasped at his broken knee. “Now get me a chair.”
“Yes, sir,” the medic mumbled as he ran from the room.
Rander tried to smile through the pain of his legs and nodded toward the door. “We have access to Rhuddenhall’s datalinks and broadcasts. Soon the Sar shall return to her rightful place.”
The screens in the central plaza of Rhuddenhall went dark. All of the datalinks within the Grogan borders dropped signal, and any radio broadcasts were scrambled to nothing but a static buzz. Soon the screens all flickered to life with Rander standing with a cane in the forefront of the picture.
“Grogans. I have an urgent message for you. For too long we have been warring, killing one another. Our loyalties have been divided over the past months. I stand, a proud Red, swearing my allegiance to our rightful Sar, Willyn Kara. Hospadda Gran and the Council moved like a serpent and struck at our Realm’s heart with poisonous treachery. They killed our gloriou
s Sar, Hagan, murdering him in cold blood, only so they could sweep in uncontested. You have heard that Willyn was Hagan’s murderer, but I stand today and declare that this is a lie. A murderer runs and hides, but our leader has done no such thing. She was driven from us, exiled, but despite the threat of death, she has returned. She has returned to her Realm.”
Rander stepped to the side to reveal Willyn standing in front of a cement wall, draped with the crimson Grogan banner; wolf and lion locked in conflict. Her jet-black hair had been dyed back to its fiery color. It was the only thing she insisted on before the broadcast. Her newly restored locks fell over her shoulders like a mantle of flames. She stared into the camera, proud, her face still bruised and splattered with specks of dried blood, chiseled in defiance.
She spoke, her face filling the datalink screens. “My brothers and sisters, I have returned to call you to arms. We have been betrayed at the hands of our trusted Council and their chief leader, Hospadda Gran. I have been accused of murder. Murder of my own brother. Any true Grogan knows that there is no bond stronger than that of blood. If we don’t have family, then we have nothing. My family was ripped from me, murdered for political gain, but I am not empty-handed or empty-hearted. I have a family. I have you. I am calling out to you now to join me in fighting for our proud Realm. We have been killing one another for months, and I stand proudly before you, accepting the mantle of Sar to lead this Realm. I beg of you to end any loyalty to the Council and to Hospadda Gran. They have betrayed you and left you to fight one another while Seam Panderean expands his new kingdom in Zenith. Do not be fooled. Seam Panderean will stop at nothing but to restrain our people under his banner, under his rule. Hosp has bowed to a dog viler than himself and has partnered with a man who murdered his own father to ascend to power. On my honor, this is true. I was held captive in Zenith as Hosp pushed for my execution, but I was able to escape. Now I vow to fight for the Groganlands. I vow to fight for you! To restore that which was lost and reclaim our heritage and our honor.”