Throne of Ruins

by Karim Soliman

  "We can take shelter there until the storm ends." Hired Blade pointed at a clump of three palm trees having one common trunk.

  "Stopping in the desert is not a wise decision, my friend." Narrow Eyes chewed his lip. She doubted if Hired Blade would ever address anybody as "friend," even if he did not mean it. It would be surprising if that cold-hearted Bermanian knew any friends other than his longsword and bow.

  Ignoring Narrow Eyes' warning, Hired Blade swung down off his saddle and tied his horse to the palm trunk. "Sandstorms do not deter the residents of this desert from hunting their prey," Narrow Eyes continued.

  "Even beasts fear those bloody storms." She dismounted to tie her horse next to Hired Blade's.

  "Beasts are not what I fear, Lady." Still mounting his horse, Narrow Eyes addressed her by the only name she had given to them. "It is the Ghosts."

  "Ghosts are vanquished more than a year ago." Hired Blade rested on his haunches, leaning back to the trunk. "All who have remained are some desperate bands of nomads."

  "And they have been regrouping since their crushing defeat in Kahora," said Narrow Eyes. "They will rise when the right time comes."

  She never gave much heed to his gibberish though she found it amusing sometimes. It helped the journey time pass a bit faster. "And when is that right time exactly?" she asked.

  "When the wolf ambushes the leopard; when the silver horse descends from the north; when the white bear tears the two-headed lion apart."

  She could not suppress her laugh as she contemplated his serious face while he was speaking folly. Only a few seconds later, she realized he was referring to the sigils of the Goranian realms. The wolf was Byzonta, the leopard Murase, the silver horse Mankol, and the white bear Rusakia. And of course, the two-headed lion was the kingdom with two kings now.

  But what about the blue bull? Narrow Eyes' vision did not include the Skandivians. What is the matter with you? You know this is nothing but nonsense.

  "That's a great war you are foreseeing." She wanted to mock the issue, but part of her started to believe.

  "The greatest in all times of Gorania," Narrow Eyes confirmed. "The Koyans saw it a long time ago."

  "Koyans?" Curling his lip, Hired Blade did obviously not believe a single word. "What do you know about Koyans?"

  Narrow Eyes looked him in the eye. "I was raised in their islands in the far east."

  "Only Koyans are allowed to live in Koya." Viola had mistaken Narrow Eyes for a Mankol since the first time she met him.

  "And Koyans are not allowed to live anywhere except in Koya," Hired Blade coldly reminded her. "You think his narrow eyes make him one of them?"

  "It's a long story." Narrow Eyes gave them a faint smile. "But now is not the time for stories; it's time to mount your horses."

  "I am not riding my horse in the sandy winds," Hired Blade insisted.

  "Trust me, my friend. I can sense an approaching danger approaching."

  "Are you a Seer now?" Hired Blade allowed a wry smile. "Why don't you just run away if you are certain of the approaching danger?"

  "Too late," said Narrow Eyes. "Now we all must be on our horses to be ready to fight," he glanced at her, "together."

  "Together?" Hired Blade chuckled. "I bet she fights better than you." He looked her up and down. "If only she has a sword."

  Horse hooves. Her eyes widened when she heard them. "They are here." She pushed to her feet, and so did Hired Blade, drawing his sword. Desert bandits never threatened their victims before robbing them; they killed them first, and later they searched the corpses.

  "Your bow and quiver," she demanded as Hired Blade hurried to his horse to untie it.

  "Can you hurt anyone with them?" he doubtfully asked. "It will only be a waste of a bunch of good arrows."

  "You won't swing your sword and pull the bowstring at the same time," she pointed out, her eyes fixed on the horizon in anticipation of the intruders.

  "Try not to shoot me or my horse." He dropped his quiver and his bow to the ground before he swung up into his saddle and wheeled his horse to face the coming horsemen. Watching him and Narrow Eyes urge their horses to a gallop, she picked up the bow and strapped the quiver to her back. Eight horsemen, she counted. I will be slaughtered if one nomad goes past one of my champions. The top of that palm tree would make a good shooting position.

  The moment she glanced back at the trunk, she heard that cry; a cry of a nomad charging at her. In a heartbeat, she ducked, letting the deadly blade tear through the air above her head. Blast! When did he reach me? But that was not the time to find out the answer. Now she had to waste a bunch of good arrows. Standing upright, she nocked an arrow, pulled the bowstring, and shot the horse that galloped past the palm tree behind her. The nomad struggled to keep the balance of his swaying horse, but not for long. She gave the horseman an arrow in the chest to end his "struggle" for good.

  Strapping the bow across her back, she climbed the huge trunk, its rough surface easier to scale than trees. She sat at the point from which the three trees branched out, pulling another arrow from the quiver. The dim sunlight was not an obstacle for her trained eyes to aim at the nomads outnumbering her companions three to one. Still it was hard to unleash a sure arrow at any of those galloping horses from such a distance. Four nomads chased Hired Blade and the other two were after Narrow Eyes. As Hired Blade made a sharp turn to the left, his chasers' horses slowed to follow his charger, allowing her to shoot two horses. Now two of his followers were afoot.

  The two unhorsed nomads yelled with fury, pointing at her. They saw me. Bellowing with curses and menaces, they sprinted toward her palm tree. Yes, come closer, you fools. She waited, the bowstring pulled, ready to unleash another arrow. Once she felt sure of hitting one of the two men, she let the arrow go to its final destination in a nomad's heart. The other bandit drew the spear strapped to his back. Before he threw it, she wasted another good arrow into his belly. The grunting nomad dropped his spear and fell on his knees, holding his gut with both hands, not dead yet. With a shot in the head, she silenced him forever.

  Turning her eyes toward her two companions, she saw Narrow Eyes maneuvering his horse, trying to turn around his chasers, but they never gave him the chance and kept themselves on his tail. "Bring them to me!" Hired Blade hollered, still having two nomads pursuing him. Narrow Eyes rode toward his companion as he asked. Hired Blade charged at one of Narrow Eyes' followers, and Narrow Eyes swung his sword to reciprocate the favor. But before Narrow Eyes' blade touched human flesh, a spear struck his horse. The charger fell with his rider into the sand.

  The nomad chasing Narrow Eyes pulled the reins of his horse and wheeled it, heading toward her fallen companion. On the other hand, Hired Blade was turning right and left, trying to get his two chasers off his tail. At the moment, she was the only hope for Narrow Eyes to survive. I can do this. Aiming at the determined nomad, she loosed the bowstring. The arrow struck the flank of the nomad's horse, and now he and Narrow Eyes were even. Both were fallen and unhorsed.

  She pulled another arrow from the quiver to aid Narrow Eyes, but he rose to his feet at last, his sword in his grip, and with one strike, he sliced the nomad's neck. The other two nomads, who were still chasing Hired Blade, stopped when they heard the cry of their dying fellow. As they realized they had become the prey, they wheeled their horses and left Hired Blade. No one followed them until they vanished in the horizon.

  The battle was won, but the two fleeing nomads might return with more of their damned brothers. Fluidly, she climbed down the palm trunk, looking around to make sure that none of the corpses would rise to attack her. After she untied her horse, she pulled it by its reins to join her fellows.

  Covered by dust from head to foot, Narrow Eyes dragged his feet toward them. "My shoulder," he whimpered.

  Hired Blade dismounted. Narrow Eyes flinched when the mercenary gripped his shoulder. "It is not broken; it is just dislocated," said Hired Blade in his cold voice. "Ready?"

 
"Do it." Narrow Eyes closed his eyes, biting his lower lip. He uttered a cry when Hired Blade wrenched his arm.

  "You will be fine now," she reassured Narrow Eyes. You had better be. Because I have so many questions for you.

  Narrow Eyes nodded, gnashing his teeth. "That will do."

  "How did you do it? How did you see those nomads coming?"

  Narrow eyes seemed a bit hesitant to answer. "It is not something I have learned, Lady. It's a gift, a curse I have been born with."

  She glanced at Hired Blade, who did not seem interested in their conversation. "You are a Seer, aren't you?" Those Seers only existed in children's bed tales. Could she be staring at one of them right now for real?

  "I prefer to be called Wang." He gave her a faint, tired smile. "Wouldn't I know the name of the girl to whom I owe my life?"

  Her name? Why not? At the beginning of this journey, she had been cautious about her identity, as her companions had been. But now she felt compelled to stick to Narrow Eyes, to Wang. He did not seem to be aware of that, but his gift was a weapon, a priceless one.

  "Your guardian angel is too shy." Hired Blade chuckled mockingly.

  "Don't. . . move," she warned in a low voice. Just behind him crept a deadly blue viper. One sudden move and the brawny mercenary would become a corpse. Too late to nock an arrow onto the bow and aim.

  But not too late to throw a dagger.

  Her well-trained hand did what it had done thousands of times before. In a heartbeat, she darted the dagger she hid in her black tunic. Blood oozed out of the viper head as the blade pierced it.

  Hired Blade arched an eyebrow when he glanced back. He should be grateful, yet she doubted that heartless man knew how to utter "thank you."

  She turned to Wang, who was still astonished by what he had just watched. "Can't a real Seer know something simple like my name?"

  Wang grinned. "This is not how it works. I only see what I am allowed to see."

  "Fair enough," she scoffed. "Viola is my name. Now tell me: have you seen a Koyan dragon before?"

  26. RONA

  The chalice fell from Rona's hand when she heard the bells ringing. "Merciful Lord! What is happening?" She scurried toward the balcony. Gazing at all directions, she found nothing odd. Maybe it was something at the city walls. Blast! Masolon, where are you now?

  "Payton! Ziyad! Anyone!" she cried.

  The door of her chamber was slowly pushed. "Are you alright, Your Grace?" It was Sacura who entered.

  "How am I supposed to be alright?" Rona blustered. "Didn't you hear the cursed bells?"

  "Y...yes, Your Grace, but..."

  "Don't stand there like a statue!" Rona snapped. "Find me someone who knows what on earth is going on!"

  Nodding repetitively, her maidservant stepped back and dashed away. For a second time, Rona tried her luck from the balcony and found nothing new. What takes that stupid Sacura too long? Should I ride to the walls myself or what?

  "Your Grace," came Payton's voice from behind her. "May I—"

  "Skip the blasted formalities and spit it out!" she put in. "Are we under attack?"

  "Not Paril; it's Lapond. We have already lost it to Daval, I am afraid." He pressed his lips together, looking down.

  "Lost it?" She was rather furious than astonished. "This is nonsense! How didn't we even hear about Daval's siege to it?"

  "The siege didn't last for long." Payton sighed. "There are rumors about the last Antram who fights alongside Daval to grant redemption to the cursed lords of the East. Some of Foubert's bannermen joined Daval's army, taking one-third of Lapond garrison with them. Lord Yavier and the rest, who refused that Antram's salvation, are now prisoners in the city dungeons."

  The last Antram? So, he had decided to seek his revenge. Even if that meant he would fight his brother.

  "I should have learned about all of this before you ring the blasted bell." Rona glared at Payton.

  "It was King Masolon who gave the order, not me," Payton justified. "Now General Edmond is assembling the troops."

  "Where is Masolon in this hour? Why hasn't he shown up yet?" She knew it was not Payton to blame, but he was the one who happened to be in front of her at this dark moment.

  "He is still with the Rusakian chemist and his apprentices," said Payton.

  Without a strong army, Darov's cannons would not do them any good in the upcoming battle, she reflected. But obviously, His Grace was putting too high expectations on the Rusakian's crafts.

  "I shall go to Edmond then. Ready my horse," Rona demanded.

  Payton nodded and hurried outside to send her order to the stablemen. As she stepped out of her room, Sacura intercepted her way. "Going outside, Your Grace?"

  Rona did not like the maidservant's awkward attitude. "Do you want something, Sacura?"

  "Not for me, Your Grace." Sacura shook her head. "Shouldn't I bring you breakfast before you leave? You didn't eat anything this morning."

  "I will let you know when I feel like eating." Rona glared at her. "Anything else?"

  "Nothing, Your Grace," the maidservant hurriedly said. "I just want to make sure you are alright today because you look a bit. . ."

  "What? Nervous?"

  "I'd say tired. And that makes you nervous." Sacura lowered her voice.

  Rona let out a breath of air. "I am fine. Now if you excuse me, I must go. Make sure the floor of my room is taken care of until my return."

  Sacura stepped aside, bowing. "If it pleases you, Your Grace."

  Escorted by her guards, she reached the courtyard. The stablemen had readied for her a white courser with a red saddle blanket decorated with the golden lion. Payton offered to help her mount her horse, but she denied his help and swung up into her saddle.

  Nineteen of the finest royal cavaliers joined Rona in her short ride to the city walls, all of them mounting white chargers armored in red. Payton kept his horse next to hers, always looking right and left.

  "Aren't we too much afraid of the people we rule?" she asked Payton, the streets much quieter than she thought. Perhaps it was the bells that had urged the Parilians to hide behind their locked doors.

  "We cannot afford any chances, Your Grace," said Payton. "To be honest, Paril has never been as miserable as it is today. And no one to blame except the royal palace residents who started this war."

  She wanted to protest, but he was telling the truth. People of the Jewel had been living in peace before she rebelled against Wilander, and since then, their conditions had been going from bad to worse. She would be surprised if they did not curse His Grace and Her Grace in their secret prayers.

  The city entrance was now a rallying point for their troops. Veteran soldiers and new recruits were flocking into the place. The only sound higher than that of men and horses was the clang of blacksmiths' hammers on steel. She wondered when all these men had arrived; the bells had rung less than an hour ago.

  Clad in a silver armor and a red mantle, Edmond stood in the middle of the camp scolding someone here and calling out to another one there. But when he noticed her retinue coming, he gazed silently at her. She had to say her new general was the best alternative she had right now. Like his late father, he was loyal and honest, but he was neither fearsome like Gramus nor inspiring like Masolon. No one would ever replace any of those two exceptional commanders.

  "We are begging merchants to come to Paril," she told Edmond when she reached him. "Yet you picked quite a spot to persuade them not to ever think of getting closer to this city."

  "I chose the shortest way to get the troops out of the city, Your Grace," Edmond remarked. "Besides, we are not staying here for long. By nightfall, we will be marching to Karun."

  "You must wait for Lord Gramus to join you with his troops," said Rona.

  "I really hope he can catch up with us because we don't have much time to lose," said Edmond. "We can't leave Lord Foubert on his own for long."

  "What about Paril, General?" Payton asked.

  "I will leave five
hundred men to defend the city," Edmond replied.

  "Too many, I must say," Rona disapproved, addressing Edmond. "Two hundred will be enough."

  "That will be too risky," Payton pointed out.

  "We must send every capable warrior we have for this crucial battle," she insisted, knowing there would be no second chances if the result was anything but victory.

  "You have a point, Your Grace," Edmond mused. "Yet I doubt if King Masolon accepts that. He would never put you in danger."

  "As if you are sure I am going to stay." She wondered what had happened to these men. Had they forgotten that she had been fighting with them until recently? She was still keeping her silver armor in her bedchamber to remind herself of the bloody days she had been through before residing in the royal palace of Paril.

  "We do not dare to enforce anything on you," Edmond coughed in his fist, "but—"

  "Don't even try, my friend." Payton shook his head, chuckling. "Let someone else handle this."

  "He should do his best then." Rona glanced at Payton, a smile slipping over her face. "Because I don't intend to fret alone in the palace, waiting for his return."

  "And who will lead the city in the absence of both you and His Grace?" Edmond asked.

  "Masolon's advisor will do. He is a skilled warrior anyway." She turned to Edmond. "Did you send a messenger to Lord Jonson in Ramos?"

  "The moment I received the order from King Masolon." Edmond nodded.

  "Good." She gazed at the city walls. "Are there any unfinished repair works?"

  "All repair works are complete, Your Grace," Edmond confirmed.

  It would not make much difference, she believed. The arrival of Daval's troops at the walls of Paril would most probably mean the end of Queen Rona's short reign. Her war with that southern bastard had to be decided away from the Jewel.