by N M Zoltack
“The healer in the hall… the one with magic… I do not believe…” Rosalynne lifted her hand. “Are you certain you do not wish to eat?”
“I have no appetite. Not after what I’ve seen.”
“And what did you see?”
“Hartwin, he used a vine to pick up a person and throw him into a tree. The man can no longer walk.”
“I see,” the queen murmured. “If you wish to bathe, to sleep—”
“I will be returning to my hometown at once,” the rider said. “If you will allow it.”
And without waiting for actual permission, the man dashed out of the room.
“Do you think magic changes a person?” Ulric asked.
“I do not know,” Rosalynne said. She wearily rubbed her temple as she sat back down.
“Why would the dragons give the gift of magic—” Vivian started.
“Was it a gift or a curse?” Marcellus asked.
“He has a point,” Ulric grumbled. “Magic spread throughout the world upon the death of the first dragon.”
“I will speak with Tatum concerning Isabel Faure, but I do not think a healer who has been granted magic would become evil, ever,” Rosalynne said slowly.
“Regardless, there is a threat to our people,” Vivian said.
“A threat to your people is a threat to mine now,” Marcellus said. He never sat down, and now, he moved to stand across from Rosalynne.
Ulric snorted. “Not until you are wed.”
Marcellus flickered his gaze to Ulric before shifting slightly to face the queen but also be turned away from Ulric. “I will go. My men and women will go to Kilwich and handle this.”
“I cannot ask this of you,” Rosalynne protested.
“You are not asking. I am volunteering,” the prince said easily.
If he was a snake in the grass, he was the smoothest to ever slither.
“Someone must go,” Vivian said. “We cannot allow for there to be even more discord and unrest throughout the kingdom.”
“The dragon—”
“You can continue on as we have with the dragon,” Ulric murmured. “Planning, preparing…”
“Hoping and praying to the Fates who have seemingly turned against us,” Rosalynne murmured so softly only he could hear.
“Not only Marcellus and his men can go,” Ulric pointed out, prepared to volunteer himself if need be.
“Of course not,” Marcellus said, and his gaze shifted to Vivian, who was already clapping.
“You know I’ll go and handle this for you, Roz,” she said cheerfully. “I’ll take some soldiers with me, too, of course. Not too many to leave the castle shorthanded, but enough that no one will think the Vincanans are overstepping their boundaries.” She smirked at Marcellus, who narrowed his eyes but grinned regardless.
“Are you certain?” Rosalynne asked. “I…”
“I know it seems as if I am always leaving,” Vivian said, “but I always come back. Say… do you think all of this could be packed up for the road? I’m starving. Sparring against these inferior opponents—”
“Excuse me?” Ulric interrupted.
“We hold back against her, and now, she thinks she could defeat the Fate of Death,” Marcellus muttered loudly to Ulric as if they were friends.
“Ah, but I do have one Fate in my corner,” the princess said with a wry smile.
“The Fate of Life,” Rosalynne stated.
“No,” Marcellus said as Vivian shook her head. “She’s speaking of the Fate of Chaos.”
Vivian held out her hands. “Sometimes, all the world needs is a bit of chaos, don’t you think?”
“I think the world needs less chaos,” Rosalynne grumbled.
“Less of me?” Vivian clasped her hands to her chest as if deeply injured. “You wound me.”
“Never, but don’t you think—”
“I’m off to pack.” And Vivian raced out of there, Marcellus close on her heels.
“Do you like the two of them going off together?” Ulric murmured.
Rosalynne glanced up at him, her brow furrowed. “Why shouldn’t I? They make a good team, do they not?”
Ulric pursed his lips. “I hope so,” he whispered. “I hope so.”
32
Princess Vivian Rivera
The thought of a man being blessed with magic and turning around and using that gift to harm others disgusted Vivian, yet what if Marcellus was correct in his pondering? What if the dragons had cursed those persons who acquired magic?
She did not know what to think as she rode along at the head of the Tenoch soldiers in her charge. None had balked at her taking command. It seemed enough of the knights and guards had seen her on the battlefield fighting alongside them to accept her as one of their own.
However, even with the queen coming out and addressing the soldiers and telling them this would be a joint venture between Tenoch and Vincana, the soldiers were disgusted and appalled.
Which, she supposed, was not unexpected, but it remained disheartening that Rosalynne’s word was not sufficient to quiet their unrest.
More than one of the guards came up to Vivian to ask if they might not head to Kilwich first and allow Marcellus to go and fetch his warriors so that they could join them at a later time, but venturing to the camp was not far out of the way, and besides, Vivian sweetly pointed out, if they did not trust the Vincanans as much as the queen did, then perhaps they could fight the mad magical user all by themselves without her or the prince and his warriors. The soldiers were silent after that.
They had passed by the camp two days ago. In another two days, three at the most, they would come across Kilwich. It was such a small town that Vivian could not find it on any of the maps she examined briefly before they departed.
She glanced to the south, where Marcellus was riding the lead of his warriors. Some riders bounced upon their horses, lacking control and dignity, but that was not the case with Marcellus. He rode as regal as any man. He appeared as if he had been born and bred as a royal since the moment he first took a breath. That was not true, she knew, but there was something about the man that commanded the respect and admiration of his peers.
Vivian and the other Tenoch soldiers had remained outside the camp. She did not know what Marcellus said to his warriors, but there was a solemn air among them as they dismantled their camp and set about their way readying for this trek.
That night, when they made a small camp, Vivian patrolled the area where those from Tenoch slept. The Vincanans were on another area, a small hill separating the two sides.
Her ear prickled, and she sensed someone behind her. She whirled around, her sword drawn.
Marcellus held up his hands. "I did not mean to startle you."
“You were merely practicing my reflexes, I’m certain,” she said as she re-sheathed her blade.
“I do not wish to linger long,” he murmured.
She nodded. They had made camp each night, but only for six hours. They ate as they rode during the day to minimize stopping. Time was not on their side, and they needed to reach Kilwich. Riding their horses to death was not to be done, nor was marching their fighters to the point of exhaustion so they could not handle the threat that awaited them upon their arrival.
“Do your people all know?” she murmured.
“They do.”
She narrowed her eyes. “About…”
“My father and his passing.”
“Is that advisable considering we march to battle?”
“We face but one man.”
“Do not underestimate magic,” she murmured.
“I will not, but I suggest you, in turn, not underestimate my legionaries.”
“Noted.” She appraised him. “And my sister?”
“They do not know of the arrangement as such, yet. That I am waiting for.”
“How is it that they are able to accept us fighting alongside you now?” she asked curiously.
Marcellus smirked. “I told them to.”
“
Ah, yes, because you are their king now.”
He flinched and glanced away. “I want you to know that I only fought to defend myself during the battle at the castle. I did not wish to go and tried to turn my father against that course of action—”
“Marcellus, I believe you.”
“I strove to ensure that your sister would survive. I raced to her bedchambers the moment we broke through—”
“You know where she sleeps?” she interrupted.
“Yes. A maid was there, but your sister was not. She was never found.”
“Her maid… What happened to her?”
“I believe she died.”
Vivian flinched.
"Not by one of my legionaries," he hastened to add. "Another man, I saw him for only a moment and from a distance, but I recall he had a sharp nose and piercing eyes. He and the maid climbed down from the balcony in your sister’s bedchambers. She fell.”
“Another man was there? A guard?”
“No, not a guard or a knight.”
“Hmm.”
For a moment, they were silent. Vivian faced so many reservations. Why was the dragon attacking them? Well, the motivation for the last living dragon to hate them all was quite clear, but upon their initial return, why had they fought? Was it because they had been killed and remained dead for one thousand and five hundred years? Was there another reason?
The first three dragons had been that of faith, hope, and love, Vivian knew based on her readings. These dragons were hardly the same, unrecognizable in their cruelty. They slaughtered innocents, even children. A scout had even reported that fields where there was no grass but the likelihood of being fertile ground for crop growing was high had been burned to ashes. There had been no need at all for that sheer destruction.
No, these dragons had been doubt, despair, and hatred. Which one of the three still flew? Not that any of them were a decent option…
“Are you worried?” Marcellus asked abruptly.
“About…” She had far too many concerns for her to know which he might mean.
“Our two sides fighting together.”
“I am not naïve enough to believe that this Hartwin Kerner will listen to reason. Likewise, I do think we need to be prepared for animosity.”
“We will handle this together, you and I.”
"Indeed we will," she said, staring off into the distance toward the town too far away yet to be visible even if the sun shone overhead.
When she turned to Marcellus, he was gazing at her. He nodded and walked off back to his side, and Vivian prayed that the coming days would be less difficult than she feared.
As it turned out, Vivian’s prayers went unanswered. Hartwin Kerner had been busy. According to the runner who had never given his name, there weren’t any guards in Kilwich, but Hartwin had managed to convince some of the men to take up weapons of all kinds against any opposing force. Not swords or blades but shovels, sickles, and other farming equipment.
Vivian sought to speak to Hartwin, but he sent down a blast of wind that felt far too hot her way when she approached the mayor's house alone, not even on horseback. She'd even left her sword behind with Tiberius Davis.
Rosalynne had tried to insist that Jurian Hansen, the knight with magic, come along on the venture, which Vivian had vehemently argued against. In the end, Vivian won. Rosalynne kept Jurian while Vivian took the magical guard Tiberius, who would then return to his duties, whatever they might be.
Guards were not nearly as polished as knights, of course, but Vivian wanted her sister to be well protected. Yes, of course, Ulric would die for Rosalynne, but if the dragon came… Marcellus hadn't brought every single one of his warriors with him. What if that fraction opted to seek revenge against Atlan Castle? She hadn't asked, but she suspected and did not blame Marcellus at all if he preferred to allow them to assume someone from Tenoch had been the one to kill their king, his father.
As a part of the agreement, Rosalynne insisted a member of Ulric’s militia come as well, Gidie Leroux, as he had magical abilities as well. Ulric had pulled Vivian aside to tell her that Gidie was capable, yes, but he also tended to have a bit of an incendiary. She appreciated the warning and had shuffled Gidie to the back of the ranks, asking him to protect the rear flank, which seemed to appease him.
Right now, though, Vivian and Gidie and all the others were so far from pleased that it was almost tragic.
Perhaps Hartwin had promised his guards wealth or land or some such because they were willing to fight for him, and they were actually holding their own, mostly because Vivian and Marcellus had insisted that they were not to harm any civilians. As for Hartwin, Vivian hoped that he could be captured and brought to the castle, but if he were killed, that would be on the overly ambitious magical man.
For now, they weren’t even able to approach the mayor’s house. The men were fighting too hard, pressing them back.
But finally, Vivian spied an opening. She spun in a circle around a man who had a sickle, ducked beneath another man’s shovel, and she burst into the no man’s land with a short distance to the front of the mayor’s steps.
The prince wasn't the only one to break free. So did Caelia.
Vivian offered a smile to her one-time friend and training partner, but Caelia’s light blue eyes were dark. Her long blond hair had come loose from her leather thong braid, or mayhap she no longer braided her hair.
Together, they raced up the stairs. Caelia was clearly trying to beat her, and she reached the door first.
The door burst open, and more men burst out. A sword came straight at Caelia, and Vivian managed to leap forward enough with the long reach of her sword to deflect the blow.
Caelia nodded to Vivian and entered the battle. There were far more fighters here than she ever would have thought. To make matters worse, they seemed to know how to use their weapons.
A clatter rang out as Vivian disarmed a man. She slammed the hilt of the blade to his temple. Hopefully, he was merely knocked unconscious.
Another clatter sounded, and Vivian glanced over to see Caelia had been the one disarmed, but her opponent was falling down. Vivian returned to her own battle, fighting hard. She blocked one blow, but another man came at her, and she did not see how she could stop them both. Still, she tried when an arc of blue ice appeared as if on the wind and slammed into the blade she feared would soon pierce her armor. Vivian jerked out her dagger and slammed it against the iced blade. The sword promptly shattered, and Vivian knocked the first man unconscious and turned to the second, but the coward was fleeing.
Vivian stared in the direction the blue ice arc originated. Caelia was there. More blue ice sprayed out of her palm, but it sputtered and died no more than a foot from her person. She shrugged and beamed at Vivian, and Vivian nodded back to Caelia. Maybe now, they could start to be friends again. For now, the battle was not yet won.
33
Prince Marcellus Gallus
The battle was far fiercer than Marcellus ever thought it would be. Honestly, he thought that bringing so many legionaries and knights was a bit absurd, but now, he wished he had brought along more of his forces. He had thought that only Hartwin Kerner would be their only foe. That was not even remotely the case.
Vivian fought hard and broke through their line without killing anyone. Caelia was next. Marcellus thought they had trained together, and the warrior who sought to be a valkyrie had never fought harder as far as Marcellus had ever witnessed. Did she feel as if she had to prove herself?
Marcellus had hung back more, wishing to ensure that the civilians were not harmed, but once he spied Vivian and Caelia head to the door and armed men rush out to greet them, he rushed forward, shoving men aside, doing whatever he could to reach them.
These fighters had to have been trained in some fashion, but they were not guards or knights, or at least they were not garbed as such.
Marcellus fought, still trying to render foes incapable of fighting instead of killing them, but when Vi
vian squared off against two, holding her own, he could not help but to enter the fray and killed one without intending to.
By now, the rest of their forces had caught up, and Marcellus fought hard. Beside him was a guard, one from Tenoch. His skill with a blade was a bit suspect, but he was able to use magic to move leaves and cover their enemies’ eyes, rendering them blind. An ingenious way to fight, Marcellus thought.
He was not the only one to have magic. Another fighter from Tenoch, this one with red hair, fought bravely. His magic was most impressive to see. So long as he had his hand against the blade of his sword, the blade was covered in flames. No smoke drifted from the fire, though.
“Girdie,” Vivian called out, “don’t forget not to kill if you can!”
The redhead did not respond, but as far as Marcellus noticed in between his own battles, Girdie was a capable, maturing warrior.
A death shrill rang out, and the other magical user from Tenoch fell.
“Tiberius,” Vivian murmured. Somehow, the two of them—her and Marcellus—always seemed to fight near each other, working as a team.
He covered her now as she rushed to the fallen guard.
Girdie hurried over as well and appeared intent on killing the foe who had killed Tiberius, but at the last second, he held back and elbowed the man in the back of his head. The man dropped to the ground, unconscious.
Vivian closed Tiberius’s eyes, and she resumed fighting despite her grief. Marcellus did not know if she knew the guard well or not, but that did not matter. She cared for her people. She also cared for Vincanans. He would never forget that she had stated plainly that she wanted what is best for Tenoch and Vincana. Her sister had yet to say that and might never, but Vivian had lived in Vincana for a time. She understood their way of life more than her sister ever could.
A blade came dangerously close to Marcellus’s face, and he turned his focus over solely to the battle. As it turned out, fighting not to seriously injure was proving far more difficult than fighting to the death.
Once there was an opening, Marcellus tugged on Vivian's arm. She and Caelia as well followed him into the mayor's stone house. The place was empty of more adversaries, and they climbed the stairs and entered onto the flat roof.