by A. C. Salter
King Leobold turned to a moonflower fairy that sat by herself at the end of the table, her bright petal dress with a ladybird perched over her shoulder marking her out as different to the rest in the room.
“The barrier holds true, your Highness,” she sang, tickling the ladybird under the chin. “Only the invited may enter.”
“Very good," the King said, then turning to the room. “I take it that nobody has reason to invite a goblin into Farro, have they?”
The fairies in the hall began to laugh.
“Enough of the goblin and talk of treachery, now is a time to feast.” He held his goblet to his lips and drank deeply. “Let us celebrate like true Farrosians and enjoy the tournament.”
The chamber lit up with cheers as a band began to play with flutes and pipes. Servants busied themselves with bringing food and drink to the tables.
“I’m still full of yesterday’s breakfast,” Elaya admitted as a large slice of raspberry drizzle tart was placed before her. “Although, I think I’ll find room.”
Dylap chuckled, rubbing his belly. “I know the feeling,” he said, but was then distracted by Urlmince who appeared to be bickering with his bride-to-be.
“Terina, we’re leaving. I can’t eat in front of them. It’s disgusting,” he growled, rising from the table. “Are you coming?”
Princess Terina, who had already begun to eat her tart, delicately set her fork down. “Urlmince, don’t be ridiculous, what would my father say if we leave?”
Urlmince’s fist clenched upon the back of her chair and for a moment Dylap thought he might tip the Princess out of her seat.
“I don’t care, we are leaving.”
The Princess picked up her fork once again. “You’ve been acting strange all day Urlmince. Go if you are so inclined, but I am staying.”
“Terina?”
When it was clear that the Princess wasn’t leaving with him, Urlmince stamped his foot and stalked away from the table, barging into a servant carrying a tray of fig treats. The fairy somehow managed to keep the small treats on the tray.
“What’s gotten into him?” Prince Rybal asked his sister. He hasn’t been himself since uncle Hindle got married. “You don’t think he’s having second thoughts, do you?”
The Princess glared at him. “It is none of your business, Rybal. If he chooses not to marry me, then there’s plenty that will.”
Sharing a grin with Edvin, the Prince burst into laughter and helped himself to another glass of wine. “It’s a celebration. Perhaps he’s getting himself stoked for the race tomorrow. I wouldn’t worry about it Terina.”
“I’m not worried.”
Dylap ate until he was full, the food being delicious although richer than he was used to. Elaya too, seemed to struggle as the fourth course arrived. Sticks of roasted brie chestnuts on a bed of ginger springles. Cutting the springle in two, he was about to place it in his mouth when he felt a wave of fear wash over him.
Falon, I see danger.
“What is it?” Elaya asked, noticing that he’d dropped his fork.
“I don’t know.”
Suddenly he saw the city through Crayl’s eyes. The clearing near the old city filling with a swarm of heavily armed split-wings. They flew out of the obelisk, their numbers so great that they filled the air like a dark cloud.
Is this happening now? He asked, rising from his chair, the vision holding his sight.
Yes.
“We’re under attack,” Dylap heard himself murmur as he watched the split-wings swarm upstream and over the waterwheel, the storm of dragonfly wings rising as they cut through any fairy in their way.
“What did you say?” Prince Rybal asked. Those around the table were staring up at him as he shook the vision from his head.
“Your Majesty,” Dylap shouted across the room to get the King’s attention. “We’re under attack. The split-wings are inside the barrier, thousands of them.”
“What is this nonsense?” the King asked, a half-cocked grin on his face as if he sensed a joke that he didn’t understand.
“The boy speaks true,” came a voice from the balcony. When Dylap glanced over he saw the large body of a spider speaking with Dewella’s voice. “Farro is under attack, arm yourselves.”
No sooner was her last word out than a shadow began to ascend behind the arachnid and the wall of windows. The spider hurriedly turned about, rising on back legs as a spear came hurtling through the opening. The sharp projectile hit the polished ground and skittered to a stop before the tables.
Long and with a barbed end, the weapon seemed out of place amongst the elegance of the room. It was soon followed by arrows. The black shafts hitting the ground beside the spear, one bounced, rising back into the air and above a table to thud into the chest of a high-born.
Silence engulfed the room as blood spread from the wound, the victim staring down and frowning as if it had ruined a good shirt, the thought of death so ridiculous that it didn’t even come to mind. That was until the fairy sat beside him began to scream, swiftly followed by many others.
“Guards!” the King screamed. “To your posts.”
The next spear struck the spider, piercing the arachnid through its belly, but it still struggled to face out as the shadow grew and the first glimpses of fairies came into view, rushing for the Palace. Dragonfly wings beating rapidly as they advanced, the spider blocked the way, legs slamming down upon the split-wings as they attempted to drive inside. Its mandibles tearing at the screaming fae, but by sheer numbers they pushed through, the spider landing with a sickening thump on its back, its underside riddled with bleeding gashes and arrows.
“Protect the King!” shouted the general, as he drew a sword and rushed to the King’s side. The hall rapidly became a cacophony of madness: fae running away from the attack, fairies charging into it, chairs being swung, plates being thrown and a brave servant hurled a bottle of wine. The glass exploded against the head of a split-wing, the contents spilling like blood, but it only slowed the one as many more pushed passed.
“Urlmince, Urlmince, Urlmince…” Princess Terina repeatedly whimpered while wringing her napkin.
Sabesto rose to his feet, lifting the table with him and charged at the approaching split-wings as they filled the hall.
The table slammed into the growing crowd of split-wings, knocking the front few onto their backs, but more came around him, swords drawn and spears swinging towards the master of the Aviary.
Dylap opened the pouch of silver as he ran to his side, drawing the line of dust to form a lasso that wrapped around the split-wing’s feet before tightening.
It bought them enough time for soldiers to arrive and help prop the table up, driving the attacking fae back.
The sound of clashing steel filled the air, the screams of the high-classes being drowned out by the hateful shouts from the split-wings as more and more poured in through the balcony and smashed windows.
Dylap saw a fairy, a pastry held hallway to his mouth, turn to survey the chaos with a child-like curiosity. A small tear of blood trickling from an arrow that was stuck through his throat, the steel tip protruding from the back.
“Pull back,” the general bellowed, waving his sword about, “retreat!”
The guards did their best to hold the spit-wings at bay while the guests that had only moments ago been enjoying a feast, were herded into a small corridor.
Dylap glanced around in time to see Elaya being helped through the doors by Edvin as more guards came the other way.
The table suddenly lurched towards them, the number of fairies pushing from the other side becoming too great to hold and Dylap stumbled over, his boot becoming wedged beneath the huge slab of oak.
Sabesto reached down and wrenched his foot free, then hauling Dylap to his feet, propelled him towards the escape route.
“Go!” he shouted, following close behind.
Dylap ran, gathering the dust up as he went. It flowed into his pouch as they jumped over fallen cha
irs and spilled cutlery, slipping easily beneath his cloak.
They left the chaos in the hall, the remaining guards following and locking the doors behind them.
“What in the Blessed Mother’s name just happened?” Sabesto spat as they careered along the corridor.
“The split-wings have taken over the city. They came through the obelisk,” Dylap explained as they ran into the crowded throne room.
“But they couldn’t breach the barrier, unless somebody invited them?”
The general was shouting out orders to the few guards that remained with them, and then to the few men who were brave enough to act. The rest stood in groups, crying, hands over mouths or simply staring slack-faced at the ground.
“Barricade the doors, block the windows, find a weapon, anything,” he shouted.
King Leobold sat upon his throne, silent and brooding with a sword in his hand, his wife and Terina by his side.
“They’ve taken the bridge and platform,” Prince Rybal shouted from a window, and then ducked as arrows struck the frame.
“Come away from there,” Edvin pleaded, pulling the Prince away.
Dylap searched for Elaya and found her nursing a young maid, an arrow having lodged in her thigh. The ugly black shaft stood erect from the darkening wound, which already smelt of rot.
“It’s been poisoned,” Elaya explained, dabbing at the beads of sweat on the girl’s brow.
“What can we do?” Dylap asked, searching the throne room for something to use as a tourniquet. Snatching a table cloth, he was about to tear it into strips when the maid began to convulse, chest heaving as she shook violently in Elaya’s arms.
“She’s fitting,” Elaya shouted, trying her best to hold the girl still as a white foam frothed from her mouth. Then as quickly as the fit began, it ebbed away and the body relaxed into its final sleep.
Dylap placed the table cloth over the girl as he held Elaya. The white linen already soaking up the black blood from the diseased wound.
Elaya clung to him, burying her face into his chest, biting her lip to suppress the tears.
“Is there no way out?” A high-born screeched as he was pushed away from the barricaded doors. His fine clothes were torn, an ill-fitting toupee sitting at an angle upon his bald pate.
“Way out to where?” The general growled, “Farro has fallen. The split-wing bastards have taken us with our pants down.”
The King slammed the hilt of his sword against the arm of the throne. “Silence,” he boomed. “It is clear that we are trapped. Pants down or no, the enemy had this planned. Balwass and her mate probably scouted us out when they came to the wedding.”
Prince Hindle fell to his knees beside his brother. “This is my fault, I invited them.”
King Leobold placed a hand upon his brother’s head. “No, split-wings can never be trusted, but I don’t blame you.”
Dylap wrapped his arms around Elaya’s shoulders and did his best to hide her dragonfly wings. She could so easily become a target amongst all the high emotions in the chamber.
“There is only one course of action,” the King continued. “We need to get word to Gramont. My cousin the duke, will send his armies.”
“But sire, Gramont is three days away. Even if we can smuggle somebody out, how are we to survive long enough for them to return? And that is of course, if he comes.”
“I can do it,” Edvin offered, brushing the hair from his face. “Without intending to boast, I am the fasted rider in Farro.”
Prince Rybal patted his friend’s arm. “No,” he said. “The duke wouldn’t recognise you, you’ve never met. He would be more understanding with me.”
“That makes sense, but your birds aren’t close and you must fly through an enemy swarm,” the King said. “Swifts are no good in combat and will tire too quickly once out in the open.”
“The falcon can do it, your Majesty,” Dylap suggested, sure that Crayl stood a better chance than any. “All I need is a way out of the Palace.”
The King looked at him, as did the rest of the fairies in the room. He tugged at his beard, his scowl beginning to soften.
“There is a servant’s door hidden behind the throne, it leads to a branch above the platform.”
“Out of the question,” the general cut in. “Prince Rybal would be a better choice.”
“No,” the King barked back as he dropped the tip of his sword to the ground and leaned forwards. “He wouldn’t make it out of Farro, but the falcon may have the strength to push through. Although the duke may not take you seriously, can you ride as well with two?”
“I believe so, your Majesty.”
“Good, then take my son. The duke will listen to him.”
There came a bang from the barricaded door, forcing a scream from some of the high-class.
“Your Majesty,” came a familiar voice from the other side.
“Urlmince?” Princess Terina asked, rising from her seat until her father held her back.
“Urlmince is that you?” he boomed.
“It is I, Sire. Please open the door.”
“Urlmince,” the general repeated as he crossed the room and began to pull the chairs from the pile of furniture stacked against the door.
“Cramaris, what are you doing?” The King growled. “Open that and the split-wings will come in.”
The general paused, the bulge above his nose making a second forehead. He placed a hand against the door and pressed his ear to the wood.
“Who is with you son?” he asked.
“Queen Balwass, Yillk and a few thousand of their soldiers,” Urlmince replied, without a hint of fear. “They want to discuss terms.”
“Terms? Blasted bloody terms?” the King raged. “They’ve taken the city. What terms are left other than the death of those in this room?”
“You have a point there,” Queen Balwass said through the barricade. “But I do have a deal with Urlmince. He wishes for you to return Princess Terina to him.”
“Deal? Is Urlmince part of this? The bastard traitor!” The King screamed the last word. “He’ll have no kin of mine.”
“Father, can you hear me?” Urlmince said. “Make them see sense. Give me Terina and the rest shall live.”
The general dropped his sword and sat heavily on the pile of chairs. “Urlmince, what have you done?” he asked, dropping his head.
“I’ve taken the throne father, Farro is now mine, now hand me my bride-to-be.”
The King rose and put an arm around his daughter, leading her away from the Queen. They stepped carefully around the others before stopping in front of Dylap.
“I owe you more than anything I have, if you fly to Gramont. But please, take my daughter with you, I won’t have my blood mixing with the filth of that traitor.”
“No Father, I want to stay with you,” Terina pleaded, tears making tracks through her make-up.
Dylap squeezed Elaya’s hand, if he could choose somebody to take, it would be her.
“I’ll do it, your Majesty,” he said. “I’ll fly the Princess to Gramont and will return with an army.”
“Then Farro is in your hands, Dylap, May the Blessed Mother shine down on you,” the King said. “But we must act now. Cramaris, keep your son talking. I want distractions.”
“Yes, Sire,” the general snivelled, clambering to his feet once again to shout at his son. “Your mother will be fluttering in her grave, Urlmince…” he began as the King led them behind the throne.
A thin line, unnoticeable until the King pressed a picture of a flower, widened into a door. Then he pushed his daughter ahead of him, followed by Sabesto, Prince Hindle and a few of the guards.
It all happened so fast that he barely had time to glance at Elaya, her face shrinking away as he was ushered on.
“I love you,” she mouthed before she disappeared behind the crowd of high-class as they crept closer, perhaps seeing a way out.
“Back, all of you,” a guard commanded, holding a spear across the opening t
o block the way.
“I love you too,” Dylap said, but was sure that Elaya couldn’t see him anymore.
He was bustled behind Sabesto, his wide frame blocking the way ahead, although it wasn’t long before they reached the end.
“The branch is full of split-wings,” Prince Hindle said, his face partially lit up from a small round window. “We’re going to need to cut a path through them.”
“Damn it,” the King spat, pushing his brother aside to peek out. “There must be at least fifty of them.”
Sabesto’s jaw clenched before he lay a hand on Prince Hindle. “Give me your sword, Sire. I will cut you a path.”
“No,” the Prince protested. “The fault is mine. I invited Queen Balwass, I shall lead the charge.”
King Leobold shook his head. “As much an ardent student at fencing as you are, dear brother, you’re no warrior. Give your blade to Sabesto. If anyone can shower that branch red, it is he.”
The Prince reluctantly passed his sword to the master of the Aviary and he tested its weight before settling his hand against the secret door. His gaze found Dylap and he nodded.
“Are you ready?”
Crayl, are you near? I will be rushing out on the east side of the Palace. I will need you to catch me and another. We mean to escape the city.
Dylap heard the falcon’s scream from outside, he was already directly above.
I am ready, brother.
Dylap nodded to Sabesto and readied himself for the dash across the branch.
Crying into her father’s shoulder, the Princess, clutched his robes, the King struggling to release them.
“You must go, Terina. There is no choice, be brave. Farro needs you now.”
“No,” she whimpered. “I can’t do this, please send Rybal. He is so much braver than I.”
The King, finally releasing her grip, placed her trembling hand in Dylap’s. “May the Blessed Mother guide you,” he said. Then giving his daughter a final kiss on her brow, stood back to give them room.
“Stay close,” Sabesto warned, “but don’t get in the way.”
Dylap could only nod, his mind a whirl as it struggled to keep up with events. It seemed only moments ago they were enjoying a meal and now they strived to hold onto their lives in a fallen kingdom.