by N M Zoltack
“Where did they attack?”
“The barracks,” Jurian said, his voice still grim.
The Vincanans must have seen or heard him or Tatum somehow and purposely delivered false information, intelligence Edmund had believed whole-heartedly. He had been duped, and now, the barracks had been seized. Worse, they had so many weapons there…
49
Princess Vivian Rivera
A stop at a small town proved to be a boon for Vivian as the stable hand had once worked at the castle and recognized her immediately, his jaw dropping, the fruit in his hands for the horses or perhaps himself falling to the hay. At once, he accepted her poor excuse of a mare for a hardy horse, babbling all the while about how he had known she had lived yet, that he was so very pleased and humbled to see her, to assist to her, that he had been thinking about returning to Atlan… But as talkative as the stable hand was, a boy maybe a few older than her, he refused to give his name even though she asked for it. As much as she wished to ensure he would be adequately compensated as he had given her the best horse out of the harras in exchange for the worst horse now in the stables, she could not delay until he caved.
This horse was like a dream, a destrier, a stallion, bred specifically for leading a knight into war. Why this magnificent mount had been in a small town, she couldn’t say, but she counted her blessings and thanked the Fates. No matter how far she pushed, the destrier managed to increase his pace, and she always rewarded him with a pat on his well-arched neck. His jaw was strong and wide, a beast of pure muscle and strong bones. During one of their brief respites, she noticed how perfect his teeth were. Noll had wished to learn about weapons, and as much as Vivian had very much been a lady, what felt like another lifetime ago, she had enjoyed riding and did so daily, even when it had snowed. Previously, of course, Vivian had always ridden side-saddle, but spending time among the Vincanans, she had learned not only how to fight but also how to ride like a warrior.
She had become a warrior.
But Noll's desire to learn weaponry had come after his own love of horses and all animals in general. Tabes… How big the pup must be now. Was Rosalynne paying heed to the dog? Vivian hoped so, but inevitably, the looming threat of war would cause some matters to be forgotten.
A palfrey would have been better for typical, traditional, daily riding, but Vivian was already wondering about the war and if she could ride this beast into battle. The stable hand had not mentioned the horse's name either, but it did not take Vivian long to conjure up the perfect name for the destrier.
“Swiftfire,” she murmured, patting his neck as she tied him to a tree so that he would not wander off as she slept. The long hours of training had honed Vivian’s body to survive on little rest and still function perfectly.
When she stirred, Swiftfire slumbered yet, and Vivian did a few warm-up drills, stretching out her body, enjoying how the sword felt like an extension of herself, wishing she could feel the jolt of impact from someone training against her.
Caelia Buca. How was her sparring partner faring? It felt so very strange, bizarre even, to realize that she thought of Caelia as a friend, but she did. Not all Vincanans were evil through and through. In fact, Vivian didn't think most were. The war, yes, she understood why the Vincanans were fighting, but couldn't they resolve matters without bloodshed? Grant the Vincanans their freedom. It was precisely that simple.
Then again, they had longed to remake the world as Vincana Proper, so perhaps war was inevitable. Yet, if the two sides were able to come together and talking… Yes, a Vincanan had been murdered, and that was a shame, but for one death to have caused so many more was a tragedy that needed to be halted as quickly as possible.
Had Rosalynne even reached out to the Vincanans? Although Vivian supposed at this point, it was far too late.
Her heart heavy, she slashed and parried and fought an imaginary foe until Swiftfire woke. The two ate some berries, and then she was off.
Because of Swiftfire’s endurance and his ever-churning legs, Vivian approached the castle in only two days’ time. It meant the world to her to see the majestic sight, and yet, it did not feel as if she were returning home.
Now that she had seen so much of the world, could she have a home anywhere at all?
In a daze, she handed over the destrier to the stable, but she did not forget to ask, "Please, if you can, see to it that Swiftfire, my horse, is pampered, brushed thoroughly, and given as much to eat as he wishes. He has traveled far in two days and deserves some rest."
The stable hands gaped at her, and she realized they recognized her, and also, she had not issued a command but an inquiry. Were they more shocked that she returned or by the manner in which she had addressed them? It hurt to realize that she would deserve the reputation of being rather demanding and perhaps even challenging to deal with.
Unable to speak past a lump in her throat, she nodded to them and slowly approached the castle, so very grateful that the castle looked exactly as she remembered it. War had yet to marry her walls, and hopefully, all those inside were safe. Few whispered as she walked by, but she could not tell if how many recognized her.
The doors to the castle were closed, a sight she had never seen before, and she scowled at the guards.
“Open them,” she said, too eager to finally return and see her sister to bother with pleasantries and niceties.
“No one is allowed—”
“I am not no one,” she said firmly. “I am Vivian Rivera, and I have returned home.”
The guards gaped at her, at each other, and then at her again. She smiled slightly, her lips only slightly curling, and they nodded to each other before rushing to open the doors.
She strolled inside. The butler nearly ran up to her as did several more guards, but Rosalynne was descending the wide steps. She took one look at Vivian and stilled.
“Sister?” she whispered, her voice soft, eyes not blinking.
“It’s me,” Vivian murmured.
Rosalynne raced down the stairs, and Vivian met her halfway. They embraced warmly, and then Vivian drew back.
“We must talk,” she said, hardly daring to believe. So many churning emotions toiled within her, and after suppressing her feelings for so long to maintain her disguise, she hardly knew what to say or do, what was proper or not, but, yes, talking would be a wise place to start.
“Yes, of course! Where have you been?” Rosalynne asked. “I can hardly believe you’re here!”
“Where I’ve been isn’t important.”
Vivian seized her sister’s arm and hurried them down the last few steps. The first tea room was occupied, but they entered another. She stood by the door to bar anyone from entering.
“What is going on?” Rosalynne asked. She looked over Vivian as if seeing her fully for the first time. “You… Your clothes…”
“I’m fine. Thank you kindly for asking,” Vivian said. “My clothes… I’ve been riding hard for home and hardly stopped at all along the way and—”
“You must be starving! Let me go tell the kitchens to prepare—”
“Rosalynne!”
Her older sister dropped her jaw. “I wish you would not speak to me like that.”
“I wish you would listen,” Vivian countered.
Vivian crossed her arms and pursed her lips. She shouldn't be surprised they were fighting already. She shouldn't be, but she had hoped… Well, it would be better to not expect things to change immediately between them. Vivian had changed, and no doubt, being queen, especially during wartime, had changed Rosalynne too.
“Go on then,” Rosalynne said through gritted teeth.
“Supposedly, the queen… Queen Li… whatever her name was… she was with child. She gave birth before she was killed.”
“So Father killed more than one babe,” Rosalynne murmured, her face pale.
"What? No. The babe was secreted away, and she's grown now, about your age, I would assume."
“A Li Princess lives?” Rosalynne
gaped at her, her eyes darting back and forth as she processed this new intelligence.
“Yes,” Vivian said impatiently. “Worse, I have reason to believe she is coming this way!”
“With an army?” Rosalynne clasped her hands in front of her, her knuckles turning white.
“No, but—”
“Without an army, she is no threat,” Rosalynne said calmly, her attitude and demeanor changing instantaneously. “If she arrives, we will kill her.”
Vivian rubbed her arms to ward off sudden goosebumps. Yes, perhaps that should be their course of action, but Vivian had known Rosalynne. Her sister had hated all executions. War truly had changed her.
Yet, could Vivian blame her? Why else would the Li Princess head toward Atlan unless she wished to claim the throne? After all, Jankin had secured himself the crown without an army. Perhaps Vivian herself would have a chance against the princess, and Vivian had no doubt that if she had the opportunity, she would indeed kill the other princess.
But that Rosalynne would sanction it without question… While it was true that Rosalynne had not known the existence of the Li Princess until now, to be willing to have her killed just for existing remained unsettling and alarming.
“I think I’ll take that meal now,” Vivian murmured even though her stomach was twisted in knots.
Already, her homecoming had not gone as expected.
50
Ulric Cooper
The band had shrunk and grown, losing members not only to death but also because some had abandoned their cause but also gaining others who wished to fight back. Having so many new faces and missing so many familiar ones made Ulric long for ale or even just a few moments by himself. He hadn’t time to grieve or think or do anything at all to come to terms with everything that had happened.
This was war. This was his life now. For so long, Ulric had wished to be one of Rosalynne’s guards. Traditionally, he would have to be a knight to be one of the queen’s guards, but given that he had placed his life on the line repeatedly for the crown, he was almost certain exceptions could be made. In fact, he might even be able to be knighted without the formal training the others had all endued.
But if he were knighted, this fighting could possibly be the rest of his life. The war would not end anytime soon. At least, it seemed that way. Far too many Vincanans were crawling about Tenoch, so many that the queens had decided to close down the city. No one was allowed in or out unless they had permission from one of the queens.
Yes, it was dangerous for anyone to move about the city with the Vincanans hiding, ready to attack, but to doom the people who had lingered here, hoping for a swift end to the war… It hardly seemed just, but who was Ulric to judge? He did not know what was best.
Should he offer the band up to escort people out of the city? There were smaller villages along the Arlingway River, near the Olacic Mountains. Each trek would take a considerable amount of time, but with so many newcomers who were not battle-tested or prepared for combat, perhaps that would be for the best.
The sun hadn’t risen yet, and Ulric was the only one to be awake. He watched and waited for the sky to lighten from a dismal gray to the soft, cool yellows and oranges of the dawn.
When he thought the others might stir, Ulric risked making a fire and made some oatmeal. Even adding some berries did not thicken it enough for them all to have filled bellies, but the scent woke his men and women, and he wordlessly handed out everyone’s portion.
There was not much talk this morning. The newcomers kept to themselves, off to the left, the troupers to the right. There was no trust between the two, and Ulric nodded to himself. Without something to unite them, it would not serve his band at all for them to fight together.
“We have a choice to make,” Ulric blurted out.
The troupers all turned toward him, at least willing to listen, but the newcomers glanced among themselves, and he winced. This was not going to be an easy task.
“If we want to live and survive this war, if we choose to fight, then—”
“What do ya mean if we choose to fight?” Armel Foreman demanded. “We’ve already been fighting! Why would we stop now?”
“We need to practice more, to train. We need to make certain we aren’t a danger to ourselves.”
“Ah.” Armel nodded knowingly and pointedly stared at the newcomers.
Ulric flinched. The newcomers were watching now, and the narrowed eyes, pursed lips, and flared nostrils revealed their displeasure at being called out.
“We can help fight. Why else do you think we came here for?” a female newcomer called out.
“The other option is to escort families and those who wish to leave Atlan to their destinations. It is possible we’ll still have to face Vincanans, and we would have to defend the citizens, which would not be an easy task, but—”
"No one is allowed to leave, or did ya forget?" the man sitting next to the female asked haughtily.
“We can petition the queens and see what they think.” Ulric crossed his arms. “Or we train. Which do you prefer?”
Most of them grumbled, troupers and newcomers alike, but eventually, they all opted to train. At least even the newcomers had weapons, and Ulric tried to help them all as best as he could, grateful that he had at least some experience with that already, although thinking about Noll always saddened him.
Ulric tried to partner up the band, one trouper with each newcomer, but neither side seemed all that willing. He gritted his teeth, hating that they were not listening, and he opened his mouth to call out to them when suddenly, something large rustled in the trees to their left. Nearly all of them turned in that direction. Animals large enough to make that kind of ruckus should not be here at this time of year. Sure enough, it wasn’t an animal that burst through but a man and a woman, holding hands, unarmed, not wearing any armor, clearly inhabitants of Tenoch.
“Drop your weapons,” Ulric called loudly.
But the clear evidence that they were allies plus his order did not stop one of the newcomers from charging forward and slicing down the man. Another cut the woman’s stomach. The couple fell, the man dead before he hit the ground. The woman’s breathing was frantic, but as Ulric shoved band members aside to reach her, he could see he was already too late.
With a shaking hand, Ulric closed the man’s eyes and then the woman’s. He could barely contain his anger as he slowly stood and pivoted to face the guilty parties.
“Why did you attack them?” he demanded.
“It all happened so fast,” the killer of the man said.
“I thought… Who else would be about but Vincanans,” the female murmured.
“Do they look like they’re Vincanans!” Ulric shouted. “These were innocents. These were our people. These are the ones I wish to protect, and you should too!”
He was so very angry that spit spewed out of his mouth every few words. His chest heaved with his frantic breaths.
A few controlled inhales and exhales helped to at least stop yelling.
“We will bury them, and then we will train. It’s not enough to have weapons. Killing isn’t enough. We have to work together, and we must listen, or else… or else we won’t be any better than the Vincanans. Are we able to protect our kingdom with any measure of unity? If not, I will disband this group right now,” he said through gritted teeth.
Aloys Carter stepped forward. “I’ll listen.”
Armel nodded. “Me too.”
Most of the others murmured their consent.
Ulric’s gaze fell on the duo responsible for the death of innocents.
“We’ll bury them,” the female offered. “We… We won’t be so hasty next time.”
“There is a time when speed will be your ally, but you cannot lose sight of the enemy or that we have allies,” Ulric said.
“We… We’re…” the man started.
“We’re sorry, yes, but we have to make this right.” The female stared at Ulric. “Tell us how to make it right.”
He handed them shovels, but he also took up one of his own. Ulric had been serious. If his band would not listen to him, then he would send them off back to their homes, even though he knew that some of their homes had been destroyed during the war.
To his surprise, the others began to help train each other, newcomers and troupers alike as he and the dup dug. Perhaps this tragedy would help them listen to him, but the cost of two innocents was far too high, and Ulric wasn't sure who he was having a harder time forgiving—the duo or himself.
51
Princess Vivian Rivera
Already two days had passed, and Vivian still did not feel settled. The castle walls were far too confining, far too suffocating, and despite her sister not wishing Vivian to leave the castle walls, Vivian just might have to.
She could not say what brought her to the chapel, but Vivian hesitated outside the door before pushing it open and walking inside. A dog barked and rushed up to her Tabes.
With a grin, she bent down and picked up the dog, although he was getting to be fairly large now.
“How are you?” she murmured into his fur as she hugged him, wishing she could embrace her brother instead. Tears prickled her eyes, but she refused to shed them.
“Ah, Princess Vivian.” Vicar Albert Leeson stood by the altar. He slowly made his way around it but made no move to close the distance between them. “How are you, child?”
“I’m not a child anymore,” she said.
“No? I suppose not. You and your sister have grown up to be fine young ladies.”
Vivian scowled. “My sister should be wed. She should be the ruling queen.”
“With the war—”
“Yes, yes, the war.” Vivian waved her hand airily, and Tabes whined and leaned against her, trying to stay in her one arm. Quickly, she readjusted him in her arms.
“The war is a terrible, tragic affair,” the vicar murmured, “but the kingdom rejoices in your return. I know you and your sister are not always close, but she was devastated when it was learned that you were missing. You were gone for so long that I feared… we all feared…”