by Eric Vall
But as corrupt as he may have become, the High King was still a formidable warrior. Though Annalíse’s kick was dead on, Animere braced right before impact and thus only slid a few inches. Still, the kick was hard enough to knock his left hand free of his weapon, so the princess kept up the pressure by bringing her sword up and around as she spun to try to cleave her father in two.
It was a testament to the older warrior’s strength that he managed to wrest his sword upward with only one hand to block the swing in the nick of time. Annalíse only pressed her attack for a moment, wisely backing off before her father could bring his full strength to bear. As Animere rose to his full height again, the princess shifted back into her ready stance.
“You should have pressed your attack, girl,” the High King snorted as he tightened the grip on his blade. “You could have won the battle right there.”
Annalíse flashed a wry grin as she began to circle her father slowly. “And fall for your counterattack? I saw the way you were about to brace your blade, you would have thrown me back and sliced my stomach open in one easy move.”
“So, you have learned something after all.” Animere rolled his neck and shifted his stance as he joined the princess’ circling, his sword now pointed forward aggressively. “It will not be enough. If it were one of your brothers standing there, I might worry but--”
He didn’t get a chance to finish his off-handed insult as Annalíse’s battle cry split the air.
I could see the High King’s ploy right away, intentional or not, to rattle his daughter and provoke her into making a mistake, but Annalíse must not have caught on… or was so incensed that she didn’t care. Still, for all her anger, the swordswoman didn’t commit to an all-out attack as I first expected.
Instead, she remembered her training and darted forward with a probing thrust. Animere batted that aside with a quick twist of his blade and tried to use that deflection as an opening for a killing stab through Annalíse’s midsection. She was quicker though, and she twisted her body hard to the right as her father’s greatsword slipped just past her side.
Unlike Annalíse’s careful attack, Animere had committed hard to the strike. He wasn’t merely trying to incite his daughter with his dismissive talk, he truly did not believe she was a threat. That would be his fatal error as it almost was in that moment when Annalíse turned her twist into a spin to come around to the High King’s open flank. Lightning quick, the swordswoman brought her greatsword high and chopped down at the off-balance king.
Animere wasn’t done yet. Honed warrior instincts saved him as he did the only thing he could, dive forward and roll with a tremendous clatter of armor on stone. Even still, the princess’s blade cleaved through the tail end of the High King’s bear pelt cloak. It was a testament to the armorers of Tamarisch that his armor was so well balanced that not only could he perform the quick maneuver but could roll so easily back to one knee, sword poised just in time to parry the princess’ follow through swing.
With a roar of frustration, the king then took a giant, two-handed slash from left to right. It was a massive blow that would cleave an ogre in half, but the swing was no doubt intended to force Annalíse back so he could safely rise. In that, he succeeded as the princess danced just out of his massive reach, but she wasn’t daunted by the show of force.
No, instead of simply backing off, Annalíse darted forward as soon as Animere’s sword had passed by her, and as the High King rose, he only barely managed to twist his head out of the way of a skewering thrust.
He did not escape uninjured, however.
Animere let out a grunt as he backed away, and a streak of red opened up on his cheek from where Annalíse’s sword had barely missed. A split second later, blood began to drip down the king’s face and stain the furs around his collar.
Even as the guards continued their rhythmic pounding and chanting, some among them let out a faint gasp at the sight of first blood, and a few shifted in what they were chanting. I could not be sure above the clanging of steel but swore that some of the youths among the soldiers were including Annalíse’s name with their song of war.
“I believe what you were saying, father,” Annalíse said between controlled breaths, “is that you should be worried that I am the one here to face you, and not my brothers. They do not have the passion to challenge you, to beat you.”
To credit the High King, Animere did not wipe at the blood on his chin or even shift his stance to protect his wounded face. Instead, he looked almost proud as he carefully circled his daughter once more.
“I will admit, Anna, that your skill is to be commended, and your passion as well,” he grunted before nodding in my direction. “I can see that the dark one has taught you well, as would be expected from what Tuzakeur has told me of him.”
Annalíse didn’t let her father’s kind words soften the look of intensity on her face. “He did. He saw my strength and resolve and then took the time to nurture that potential; something you never did.”
“I cannot deny that now, can I?” Animere said even as his lips curled back into a strangely confident smirk. “However, did your Valasarian conqueror teach you why the traditions of Tamarisch do not allow women to be warriors?”
Their circling dance took the combatants closer and closer as they talked, and now, the tips of their swords were touching. Each warrior tested the other’s resolve with an occasional tap of the blade as they looked for openings even as their battle continued in words.
“There is no real reason,” Annalíse shot back even as she shifted in place, no doubt eager to end her father’s derisive talk once and for all. “It is an ancient tradition, short-sighted to the potential that a woman can show in the arts of war. I am proving those short-sighted views wrong here and now.”
“That is where you’re wrong, Anna,” the High King replied almost casually. “There is one very good reason why our elders made that decree.”
And it was in that moment, with his words hanging in the air as a distraction, that Animere made his move. With frightening speed for a man his size and age, the High King simply dropped his sword and batted aside Annalíse’s blade with his gauntlet before rushing forward. He caught the shocked swordswoman right in the gut with one of his massive bear-head shoulder guards and wrapped his massive arms around her. With her sword arm pinned to her side, Annalíse seemed powerless as her father used his momentum to carry them both right into one of the statues that lined their battlefield.
Even through the massive ringing of steel on steel as their armor clashed, I could hear the princess’s groan of pain and the cracking of stone as Animere crushed her against the unmoving marble.
As strong as Annalíse was, her father was a half a foot taller and maybe twice as massive, not to mention his heavier armor. It truly seemed that there was nothing she could do under her father’s power, and I felt my heart slam in my chest as I actually held my breath.
Rana growled at Annalíse’s cry, and her paws went to the daggers at her side. “Master, we’ve got to do something! He’s going to--”
I cut her off with a hand on her shoulder, and then I put my other arm out to bar Carmedy and Morrigan from reaching for their weapons.
“No,” I commanded, never once taking my eyes away from the struggle in front of me. “This is her battle. Were we to intervene, she would never forgive us, even if we were to save her life.”
I meant every word I said, but there was more. I had not counted my warrior princess out of the battle quite yet, even as the High King shifted his position to keep Annalíse trapped with his mere mass against the stone. With his left hand, he kept an iron grip on her sword arm as he reared back a massive gauntlet.
“See, Anna?” Animere growled. “This is why we don’t have women warriors.” He punctuated his statement with a hard punch, and the only reason Annalíse wasn’t knocked clean unconscious was a last-second twist of her head that made the blow a glancing one.
Even so, her lip was busted, and th
e rough-edged metal opened a laceration on her cheek, even as she grimly kept hold of her weapon.
“Still got some fight in you,” he panted as a statement, not a question, and reared back his fist one more time. “You really are of my blood, girl, but it is time I--”
My lips curled into a dark smile when Annalíse cut off her father’s gloating with a face full of bloody spit. He let out a cry of alarm, rendered half-blind by the blood in his eyes, but that too was cut off when Annalíse slammed her forehead right into the bridge of his nose.
I could hear Animere’s nose shatter, and the sound sent a shiver of delightful bloodlust up my spine.
“That, my minions,” I intoned darkly, “is why you should have faith in our princess.”
Blood gushed from Animere’s face as he staggered back and released Annalíse from his grip. His hands went to his face protectively as Annalíse fell back to her feet. For a brief moment, she swayed and almost fell herself, but with a primal roar, she seemed to collect herself. Before Animere could do the same, the princess reared back and threw a tremendous kick right into the High King’s armored gut.
A thunderous clang rang out as her armored boot actually dented his breastplate, and Animere let out a tremendous gasp as the air was blown from his lungs. Unable to keep his footing, the mighty king fell to his knees as he doubled over and wrapped his arms around his injured stomach.
But Annalíse wasn’t finished. She followed up the kick by bringing the pommel of her sword around on the back of Animere’s head. I thought that alone might be a killing blow, even without using the blade, but another tremendous clatter echoed across the throne room. It seemed as though Animere wisely wore a real helmet under the bear-head hood. Still, the blow must have rung the warrior’s bell both figuratively and literally, so when Annalíse took a deep breath and brought her sword up for an overhand chop, even I expected it to be the final blow.
There was a collective gasp when, even in his wounded state, the High King showed his mettle by managing to roll back out of the way of the strike. Annalíse’s cleaving blow shattered the marble where Animere had once been, and she let out a seething growl as she repeated the maneuver, and once more, the battered king dodged backward before he came up in a crouch next to his own sword.
Animere had it up in his shaky grip just as Annalíse moved in for the kill, but now that I could clearly see the king’s brown eyes, I knew then and there that the battle was over. The fire was gone, his courage and resolve spent, and it was only the ingrained instincts of the warrior that kept him fighting.
The High King barely raised his blade up to ward off another of Annalíse’s crushing blows, but this time, instead of relenting, Annalíse kept hammering chops down on the king’s guard. Each strike was like thunder and sparks flew as she battered down his defenses.
Then, with one final swing, she blasted the king’s sword right out of his grip. Panting, sweating, and seething, Annalíse sucked in one last, deep breath and raised her blade before the defenseless king.
“Stop!” Animere cried out in desperation. “I yield to you! The throne is yours, this castle, this kingdom. Whatever you desire as long as you spare my life!”
Those cowardly words were the last straw on the camel’s back. A chorus of curses and cries rose up among the onlooking soldiers as, to a man, they made their distaste for such cowardice plain. More cries for Annalíse rose up among them as the princess stared with disdain at her father.
“To think,” she said as she seemed to relax her guard, “I only ever wanted to make you proud, to be like you, and now, all I see before me is a coward and a traitor.” Her brown eyes narrowed as they flashed with anger. “At least try to die with some bit of honor remaining.”
“No, Anna,” Animere replied with a harsh whisper as his left hand flashed to his boot, “I intend to live, honor be damned.”
I saw then that, concealed in the sculpted greave, was a dagger. In a flash, Animere drew the secret weapon and thrust it forward, no doubt hoping to kill his daughter when her attention was drawn away.
For such a strong king, it only told me how far he had fallen to be forced to use such an underhanded tactic… especially when it failed so spectacularly, for Annalíse had not dropped her guard at all. The princess was already sidestepping as Animere lunged up from his crouch, and then she brought her greatsword down right on her father’s wrist.
There was a rending of steel and a gushing fountain of blood as she chopped his hand clean off, and then, without a second word or thought, Annalíse brought her blade clean across his neck. Flesh and bone were torn and severed as Animere’s head came off his shoulders, a look of utter shock etched into his broad features as it hit the floor in a messy splat.
That was when the ancient chants of war stopped.
The High King’s kneeling form tottered for a moment before it finally fell forward chest first in one final clatter of steel and stone. His blood poured out in a tremendous spurt to soak the carpeted path and collect at the foot of one of the onlooking statues.
Perhaps it was merely my excited mind, but I swore that the ancient High Kings all frowned in disappointment as they looked down at Animere’s corpse.
For a moment, only the sounds of Annalíse’s panting filled the throne room, but then as the tension dissolved, the collected soldiers of Tamarisch fell to one knee and lowered their heads to the princess.
But she was no longer a mere princess.
“Long live, High Queen Annalíse!” the soldiers cried in one loud, triumphant voice, and that cry echoed through the castle, taken up again and again until it was a thunderous chant of its own that nearly shook the walls of the mighty fortress.
Annalíse looked up from her father’s body as if she almost couldn’t believe the reality of the moment, even as Rana, Carmedy, and Morrigan joined in the cheers of the soldiers. Her beautiful eyes immediately found mine, and there was a burning spark of gratitude in them.
It was relief, desire, bloodlust, triumph, and validation all rolled into one, and it moved my dark heart to see that fire in the High Queen. The royal guard kept chanting her name, and we were about to make our way to her ourselves when she raised her bloody sword high into the air.
“Men and women of Tamarisch!” she shouted, her raspy voice powerful with the heady emotions running through her. “I proclaim two things immediately as your High Queen!”
The crowd grew silent, once more showing the incredible discipline of the warriors of this continent. It pleased me greatly as I inclined my head towards Annalíse.
“First,” she proclaimed, “from this day forth, all the women of this kingdom will have the full rights of men to serve in the royal army, to go to war, and to serve as equals!”
If any of the older, more tradition-bound soldiers had a problem with this, they said nothing. There was only a clatter of armor as the collected warriors saluted the High Queen’s decree.
“And second,” Annalíse continued as her eyes focused once more on me and her freckled cheeks became heated, “I proclaim that, in three days, there will be a royal wedding, as the royal house of Tamarisch will become entwined with the great king of Valasara.”
There was only a moment of surprise before cheers and sounds of joy erupted among the soldiers. While I wasn’t sure if it was because of some desire to see the princess they had known their whole lives to be happy or the realization that with the great wealth of Valasara behind them that they would no doubt win the long war with Tintagal, I didn’t know, nor did I care.
Carmedy was yelling with joy as she threw her arms around Rana and Morrigan. The elf smiled and hugged Carmedy back, and Rana patted both women on the head as she hopped up and down with joy.
The High Queen met me halfway, and I could tell that at least some of her heavy breathing was not from mere exertion but desire.
“I would ask again if you truly wanted this,” I said softly as I put my arms on her shoulders, “but I can see that--”
To my momentary surprise, Annalíse interrupted me by reaching up to pull my helmet off. Then she cast it aside, grabbed my shoulders to bring me down, and then kissed me. Her lips were sweet, and the coppery tinge of blood from her busted lip only made our kiss that much more primal. It was a passionate embrace fueled by battle and lust that I eagerly dove into.
“Seriously, guys!” Rana half-heartedly called out. “Get a room, you two!”
“Considering the usual marital traditions,” Morrigan added dryly, “they fully intend to, at least in a few day’s time.”
I know Carmedy said something merrily in response, but I only had attention enough for my brown-haired warrior. When our lips finally parted, I stared down at her with unconcealed desire.
“You have triumphed,” I said huskily. “As I knew you would.”
“I did,” she rasped back with hungry eyes, “and I not only have freed my kingdom and regained my honor, but I may have won the greatest spoils of all.”
Chapter 19
I gripped Turzakeur’s amulet in my gloved hand as I stood before the full-length mirror in the suite I had been assigned in the High Queen’s castle. I had retrieved the amulet after Animere’s death, and even though most of my mind was focused on the impending wedding ceremony a mere hour away, I could not fully dismiss the part of me that always thought ahead and calculated the downfall of my enemies.
Still, it would hurt nothing to conjecture as to how I could use this mystical artifact to find a way to locate or even defeat the sorcerer. After all, I was already ready for the event. In the fine Tamarisch warrior tradition, it was not uncommon for the groom, especially if he were a soldier or noble, to present himself in ceremonial armor before his bride, so I took it upon myself to use my magic to reshape a fine suit from the castle armory to fit my powerful frame properly. To that, I added an appropriate formal cape of black silk embroidered in the finest gold and replaced my usual clawed gauntlets with gloves of the finest kid leather. I would cut a proper figure, one fit for both a god and a king as I was.