by N M Zoltack
Vivian glowered at the last Valkyrie near her and limped over to stand by Horatia, face to face, nose to nose. “The world is not a slave to hatred. Odium is not my master. I have hope—”
“Hope! Do you?” Horatia’s bitter laugh churned Vivian’s stomach. “There is no hope for you. You’re nothing more than a child. Can you not see that?”
“I see this,” Vivian said coolly, and she kicked Horatia twice, once in the stomach to force her back and then to the side of her head.
The other Valkyrie fell upon Vivian, but past Horatia, there was no one, and Vivian hopped along, whistling.
Swiftfire raced alongside her, and Vivian grabbed onto the saddle and hoisted herself up. Swiftfire galloped, but the Valkyries were already behind her, on their own horses.
Wetness socked Vivian’s side. She was bleeding, but perhaps she would be all right.
A black speck appeared in her vision, and she feared she was seeing illusions or was close to passing out when the speck grew larger and larger, taking on the shape of a horse and a rider.
“Roz? Roz!”
“Come!” Rosalynne called.
But it was all for naught as the Valkyries must ride upon beasts marked by the fiery hatred from Odium himself as the sisters were surrounded by the Valkyries.
“Stick by me,” Vivian said as they circled their horses, but the Valkyries were too close. They could not jump them. They were good and captured, the both of them.
69
Queen Rosalynne Rivera
The dream Rosalynne had had been so utterly vivid. She had seen Vivian, watched her be wounded, watched her fight, watched her be attacked over and over again, watched her lie motionless on the grass, showering the blades with her blood.
Even though Rosalynne did not know where Vivian had gone, after that terrible nightmare, Rosalynne had gone to the stable, asked a stable hand to ready her horse, and away Rosalynne rode. Once upon a time, Rosalynne would go for rides to think and reflect. She had not done so in an age, and she was not certain if she merely wished to leave the nightmare behind, to reflect on the dragon, her marriage, or Ulric, or if she wished to try to seek out her sister.
And then to find Vivian bleeding, a horse of wild female warriors chasing her down and the surrounding them… This was not quite the vision her dream had suggested, but it was similar enough just the same.
“What are we to do?” Rosalynne murmured to Vivian.
Despite her wounds, Vivian sat upright in her saddle, a warrior through and through. Her sword and rein in one hand, she reached out and held Rosalynne’s hand with her other one. “We will get through this.”
“You have too much hope,” Rosalynne muttered.
“Oh, how I hope you are right,” Vivian said wanly, and she grinned at her sister.
Rosalynne gaped at her, but Vivian had shifted her gaze upward. As a dark shadow passed above them, Rosalynne did the same and gasped.
The warriors surrounding them parted and allowed room for the dragon to land. Rosalynne’s horse pranced a bit before becoming so skittish that Rosalynne slid down before he could throw her. The horse raced off. Vivian’s mount was anxious, too, but he stayed put. A warrior horse for the warrior princess. Rosalynne shook her head.
“What do you want?” Vivian called loudly.
Rosalynne stared at her sister in shock. Such a bold, brass tone to take to the dragon!
I am here not for you but another.
Rosalynne gripped her temples. The dragon’s voice in her head sounded so polished yet beastly too.
The one I am here for knows, the dragon continues.
Rosalynne’s heart raced, and she took a step toward the dragon. The massive dragon. The strong, lithe dragon. His black scales shone in the sunshine, reflecting rays of light every which way.
“You are here for me,” the queen said calmly.
“No!”
Vivian went to dismount and almost fell down. She was in no condition to stand up to the dragon, but she did just that, limping over to stand before Rosalynne.
“You killed Edmund over Tatum,” Vivian said.
Rosalynne gasped. “Edmund is dead? I… I failed him. I meant to go and see him, to talk to him…”
“He sacrificed himself for love,” Vivian said firmly. “Another had faith. You cannot—”
What I cannot do is die, the dragon stated. I am Hatred, and so long as there are people who draw breath, there will be hatred within the world. I can never die.
“Despair died. Doubt died,” Vivian argued.
Ah, but have they really, truly? Even now, I can sense how much your own sister doubts your words, how she despairs.
“I have no doubt that you mean to kill me,” Rosalynne said. “So be it, so long as you stop killing. No more death. Not of the innocents.”
Oh, you naïve knave! There is no such thing as innocents!
“The children,” Rosalynne protested, but the dragon shook his massive head.
They argue, and they fight and bully. Children are not innocent.
“No one is perfect,” she argued.
“Rosalynne, stay back,” Vivian said through gritted teeth.
“No,” Rosalynne said. “The dragon came for me. If I can convince him—”
“There is no convincing him. He’s Odium. He is Hatred. He hates everyone. He doesn’t have it in him to love anything or anyone, and he cannot feel pride either. He cannot be proud if orders are mindlessly obeyed.”
Rosalynne glanced at the warriors around them. One in particular stiffened.
“You hate Rosalynne because she is a queen, because she has power. You want there to be only chaos, no queens at all, no kings… no princesses.” Vivian tossed her sword to the side. “How about we make a deal. Rosalynne lives. She will give up her crown—”
“Vivian,” Rosalynne said.
“You will do that, won’t you?” Vivian asked, but the princess did not turn away from the dragon. “Marcellus will give up his crown as well. If you kill me, let them live. Do not kill them. Use your hatred on me alone and—”
The dragon opened his massive mouth. His neck curled like a snake, and he darted forward, snatching Vivian with his teeth. He flipped her into the air and caught her in his mouth, chewing several times, crunching bones and swallowing. After a moment, he spat out her bones. One rolled toward Rosalynne.
Through tear-laden lashes, Rosalynne barely noticed the dragon flew away. All she could truly see was Vivian’s skull by her feet.
70
Valkyrie Horatia Ramagi
Something shifted within the Valkyrie, something indescribable. There was a feeling, an emotion, lurking just beneath the surface.
For some time now, Horatia had been able to feel hate and hate alone, and she still suffered from that powerful affliction, but now, the hatred had shifted.
In short, she was appalled.
Vivian had what it took to be a Valkyrie. She had been brave, strong, and knowledgeable. In truth, the princess might have even been far wiser than the Valkyries about matters concerning the dragons.
Odium drew up, twisting his neck this way and that, working his jaw as if still chewing.
She tasted a bit… tart, the dragon said. Yes, a bit too much love in her, far more than most, and she did have some faith and hope right up until the very end. She truly thought I would accept her, that I would do as she said.
The dragon lowered his head toward the queen. Rosalynne stared at the dragon without an ounce of fear visible in her dark eyes.
“You made a pact with Vivian,” the queen stated. Her voice shook only slightly. “You will let me go.”
Let you go? To do what?
Rosalynne lifted her chin, as regal as could be. “I will give up my crown as part of the pact.”
You lie!
“If you seek to see the worst in people,” Rosalynne said, “then that is all you will see, but people are not light and dark. People are not good or evil. People operate in the shadows, b
oth light and dark, good and evil. Not one of us is perfect beyond measure, and the same goes for you.”
“How dare you!” Cassia Junius shouted. The Valkyrie started forward with her sword raised, but Horatia threw out her arm to halt her. “She dares to disrespect Odium. Why do you protect her?”
An excellent question.
Horatia slowly drew her gaze away from the dragon and the queen to face her sister Valkyrie. As she stared into Cassia’s eyes, Horatia knew then what had changed within her.
The dragon’s influence over Horatia was ebbing away.
She twisted about to look at the other Valkyries. Most of them appeared uneasy, stepping away to no longer surround the queen and the bone remains of the princess.
“Vivian could well have been one of us,” Horatia murmured.
“She thought one of us would kill Odium!” Cassia hissed.
“She thought the Lady of Light and Darkness—”
“Odium will save the world, not some Lady,” Cassia argued.
Horatia watched as the dragon tormented Queen Rosalynne, mentioning memories when Rosalynne had not made time for her sister. Tears rolled down the queen’s face, but she accepted the verbal assault with grace.
“You killed my sister,” Rosalynne said evenly. “I miss her terribly already, but do you see what you have done? Your hatred has blinded you because your act has only increased my love for her. You are spreading love in the world! You might wish to destroy us all, to cause fear and chaos, to create doubt and derision between the peoples, but that is not what will happen. We are already banding together, and there will be peace in the land.”
Not while I live! the dragon reared back.
“One more sacrifice,” Rosalynne murmured.
The queen glanced over and met Horatia’s gaze. What was the queen talking about? Vivian had mentioned a sacrifice for love, one for faith… The princess had spoken of hope as well.
The previous dragons had been Faith, Hope, and Love.
Vivian had hoped to be the sacrifice for Hope, but that had not been the case. She embodied the three emotions too much for one to be enough.
But if there was anything Horatia did not have, it was hope. In fact, doubt and despair were both creeping into the void that hatred had given up, and Horatia feared what the dragon would do, and she feared for the sake of all Dragoona.
Fear was not an emotion a Valkyrie should ever feel, so perhaps Horatia was no longer a Valkyrie.
Or mayhap she had never been one in the first place.
71
Prince Marcellus Gallus
The prince rode hard. Something in his heart told him that he would be too late if he did not hurry, and he burst out of Atlan, leaving the decimated city behind, and saw the dragon standing on the ground. The Valkyries were there.
So was Rosalynne, standing directly opposed to the dragon.
With a wild yell, Marcellus yanked out his sword and urged the destrier even faster. The horse continued on at a fast pace until she evidently drew too close to the dragon as she halted in place with a jerk that almost caused Marcellus to tumble forward, flying from her back. He dismounted and raced over, the Valkyries nearly falling over themselves to move out of his way.
Ah, the prince. The dragon drew back.
Marcellus leaped forward and dragged his sword against the bluish underbelly of the beast. The dragon blew out a blast of fire, but Marcellus had continued running, standing directly between the dragon’s hind legs. He thrust upward with his sword.
The dragon flew just high enough that Marcellus’s sword no longer cut through some of the scales. Blood dripped onto the prince, into his eyes, and he staggered back, wiping his face.
Something hard slammed into his stomach, and Marcellus went flying. The dragon's tail must have hit him, thankfully not quite high enough to hit his ribs because surely some would have broken from the attack. He landed hard and on the rocky grass, and his sword went flying.
The prince scrambled to his feet. Dimly, he could hear voices all around him, and then someone was helping him up. Rosalynne was there, handing him his sword, and in her other hand… was that a skull?
His heart skipped a beat. “Where is Vivian?” he demanded. “Did you come to find her?”
“Vivian is…” The queen’s gaze fell to the skull and then shifted to the dragon.
The dragon laughed. I ate her and spat out her bones. You still have something to bury then, or would you rather I burn her bones to ashes? Do those from Vincana prefer funeral pyres? I cannot recall.
“You foul beast!”
Marcellus saw the tail, saw the claws, both heading his way, but he did not care, so blinded was he by his hatred. He charged, but before he could swing, the dragon slammed Marcellus to the ground with his tail and raked his claws down the prince's chest. Even his claws felt as if they were fire, and Marcellus felt hatred, pain, anguish, despair, agony.
He was going to die.
But if, somehow, he managed to survive, if the dragon did not kill him by some act of the Fates, Marcellus knew a deep truth that he should never have denied for so long.
His grief had opened his eyes. He could not and would not marry Rosalynne, not for any reason, not even if it were the only way to ensure lasting peace. Marcellus should not be prince nor king because he was far too selfish for the role. He would never marry anyone ever.
He had loved Vivian.
And he had lost her.
And he could very well lose his life in his pursuit of revenge against her most powerful killer.
72
Olympia Li
The guards by the gates were talking. Normally, they were tending to their duties, watching those who came and went while also observing the skies, silent as they worked, but three of them stood together, conversing. This caught Olympia’s eye as she headed to the castle walls to leave Atlan Castle behind. She had bid farewell to her brother, and as for Bjorn… Olympia had lived most of her life alone, and the thought of spending even more time with the man from Maloyan almost frightened her.
Her emotions had betrayed her many a time, and she did not wish for that to happen once more.
She passed beneath the guards when she heard a familiar name.
“Excuse me,” she called, gazing up at them, a hand on her hood to keep it in place to cover some of her face. “Do you speak of Albert Leeson?”
“We do,” one of the guards said.
“What about him?” she asked.
“He’s dead,” another said.
“Dead? Who killed him?” Honestly, this news did not surprise her in the least.
“He killed himself from what I heard,” said the last guard.
“Why would he do that?” Olympia wondered. “He, ah, he seemed to be so very devoted to the Fates.”
“From what I was just telling them,” the first guard said, jerking his thumbs to point to the others around him, “the vicar was an alchemist. No one knew, though.”
“Was he?”
“Ah, and he told the queen herself that she would die, that Marcellus would, that some Li woman would take the throne.”
Olympia laughed. “Well, it seems to me the vicar was a fool then.”
The guards laughed as well, and Olympia nodded to them and continued on her way. She had no horse, which was, unfortunately, but no matter. Her shoes had been replaced one of the times she had gone through Atlan. The nicest woman with sandy brown hair and gray eyes had been in the city. She had left her shop, the woman a cobbler, and she had conversed with Olympia a moment before offering her shoes. Olympia hadn't any money or anything to barter.
“There is no need for any payment,” the woman had said. “My husband and I… we have no children, or so it seems. Our sons have lives of their own, and they do not care to make shoes. My husband and I love our work, but there are so few within the city that we have taken to giving the shoes away.”
“But how will you eat? How will you survive?”
“I
f the Fates allow, all things can be. All things will be just as they should,” the woman had said.
All things would be just as they should. The woman was a sage who masqueraded as a cobbler.
Olympia halted beside a tree. Her hand rested against the bark, the texture rough against her palm, and she closed her eyes.
She saw the man Albert Leeson—old, stooped back, white hair, bumpy nose, and bushy eyebrows.
And then she saw the man Aldwin Lehr—did not appear quite so old, standing straight and tall, with the same white hair, bumpy nose, and bushy eyebrows.
Playing both sides could be a very dangerous undertaking, as the vicar had surely known his entire life, and he might very well have been playing a third side—his own.
Her eyes opened, and she exhaled as her thoughts turned to another man, back to Bjorn. She had told him she had no set plan, but that had been a lie.
The Li princess took only a single step before a horse raced toward her. A destrier. The warhorse slowed as he approached her, and she rubbed his neck, trying to calm him down. Once he settled, she climbed onto his back.
“Thank you, my friend,” she whispered in his hair, and she raced along in the direction the destrier had come from.
Her plan was to find the Valkyries. She had sought them once before, having felt a calling toward the dragons. Olympia had not felt that tug in a long while, or perhaps her own wants and needs had overwhelmed her to the point of distraction. Now, however, that tug toward the dragons called on her once more, and she rode as if her life depended on it.
She shifted the rein so that she held it in one hand. Her other fell to the hilt at her waist. Yes, she was armed, and she would use the sword if she must.
And she feared that she must.
73
Valkyrie Horatia Ramagi