by Elise Kova
“If she’s a spy, we kill her at the docks and return.” The other woman with hair cut so short it barely reached her ears rested her hand on her comrade’s shoulder. “Listen to our leader. We only have a few minutes before those cannons are reloaded.”
Ultimately, the woman with the dagger at Vi’s throat did as Fiera commanded, and they were off once more. Vi rubbed her neck as she ran and remembered Taavin’s words—if she died now, it was over.
But no, it was only over if she failed. If she succeeded in this world and stopped Yargen’s power from being turned on itself, then it didn’t matter if a new Vi was born. Because there would be no more destruction and rebirth.
Vi’s mind was silenced as they rounded the corner and caught their first glimpse of the great port of Norin. Fires blazed in the ocean from ships that were sinking beneath its inky waters. Three large warships with massive battering rams had invaded the port, leaving debris in their wake. Each ship bore a white sail emblazoned with a golden sun.
The ships had already dropped anchor; two were using makeshift gangplanks to allow a near-endless stream of soldiers into the city. Half of the Imperial army had been crammed into those bloated hulls, and now they were encroaching on the castle of Norin, on the civilians that surrounded it, and on the troops battling at the wall from behind.
“Mother above,” one of Fiera’s men uttered in shock.
Cannon fire rang out, and they all dropped once more as shrapnel and cannon balls ripped through the paltry collection of Western soldiers and buildings alike on the docks. Vi continued to stare, watching them fall. For the second time since she’d entered this version of the world, she felt as though she was watching everything from outside of her body—a history book come to life in the darkest of ways.
“Traveler.” Vi hadn’t realized they’d ended up side by side until she glanced over and found the princess at her shoulder. “Is Tiberus Solaris on that vessel?” Vi nodded, hoping her grandfather made the same choice in this world as he had in her own. “Then we press onward.” Fiera sprang to her feet. “Quickly now!”
Vi, Fiera’s five Knights, and the woman herself came to a stop at the center of the docks, right before the main vessel that had been unleashing an artillery assault.
Fiera drew her sword and shouted, “Tiberus, face me!”
The world seemed to hold its breath. Even the soldiers that had been marching down the gangplanks of the other two ships paused as Fiera’s voice reverberated off rock and sea. Vi prayed this world was unfolding like her own, that she hadn’t started out by lying to Fiera.
“I know you’re there. Come out and duel me like the honorable man you claim to be. I am the sword arm of the King of Mhashan. You will not conquer us until you have conquered me!”
“You have been heard, princess.” A deep voice filled the air.
Standing at the bow of the ship before them was a man clad in golden armor, trimmed in silver polished so brightly it shone white in the pale moonlight. His hair was the same hue as his armor and his face was clean-shaven, almost roguish—Vi had only ever seen portraits of her grandfather and he looked nothing like the young man standing before them now. She searched his face, seeking out some familial resemblance. But the only thing her father had inherited from Tiberus was the pallor of his skin. Fiera’s features had won out in every other way.
Fiera pointed her sword directly at Tiberus. Raw magic sparked from it, falling to the ground like dying fireworks. “And do you accept my challenge?”
“I will accept your surrender,” the Emperor said haughtily, in a tone Vi recognized from her own father.
“You must earn it first.”
“You’ve lost this war.”
“He’s as arrogant as they say,” the long-haired honor guard muttered.
A sailor ran up to the Emperor, whispering something in his ear. As they exchanged words none of them could hear, Fiera remained poised, waiting. Her arm didn’t so much as quiver despite holding out the long sword.
“You may have your duel, princess. With whatever time is left,” Tiberus said ominously before disappearing from sight. Soon enough a rowboat worked its way from the side of the boat to the docks.
“Your highness—”
“I told you before, this ends tonight.” Fiera glanced over her shoulder at them before turning to the castle.
Vi took a step forward. Something in Fiera’s eyes compelled her. She had an understanding no one else did, save Vi herself.
“You know,” Vi whispered softly. Saying nothing, Fiera gave a small nod.
“As do you?”
It was Vi’s turn to nod. “Fighting the Emperor won’t change anything.”
“I realize.” Fiera shifted her attention to the rowboat that pulled up alongside the docks. “But the longer I can distract him, the more lives I can spare in the city. If I can be the outlet for his rage, act as the embodiment of my family, then he might spare my siblings.”
It was a noble goal. Vi would’ve admired it more if it wasn’t leading toward her grandfather and grandmother dueling. Bringing Fiera here had been a terrible decision.
Taavin had said she was here to change fate.
What if she changed it in the wrong way?
Three soldiers quickly disembarked, followed by Tiberus, then two more soldiers. Were it not for Vi, they would’ve been evenly matched. In a way they still were. Vi wasn’t about to fight for or against either side if it came to blows.
“Sheathe your sword and I’ll spare your life.” Tiberus wasn’t very tall, Vi realized. Yet he spoke with authority that towered above them all.
In reply, Fiera hoisted her weapon, pointing it directly toward the Emperor.
Vi inched backward, her heart racing. Had Fiera and Tiberus traded blows in her time? She swiftly ran through her options for diffusing the situation. If one of them was killed now, would she—rather, the new Vi—even be born?
“Let it be death, then.” Tiberus drew his weapon.
“Wai—” Vi never had a chance to finish.
Horns blasted through the city in a low, sad song. She didn’t recognize the melody, but it had everyone else holding their breath. Fiera turned to the castle.
From the tallest tower, a makeshift banner was unfurled. It wasn’t much, but it would surely be seen from anywhere in the city: the white flag of surrender was draped across the castle of Norin.
Like that, Mhashan fell.
“Zerian did it…” Tiberus murmured, turning back to them. “Kneel before your Emperor and you shall know my mercy.”
Fiera’s knuckles went white, but ultimately, she sheathed her sword. Vi watched as the princess fell to one knee.
“Your highness, do not kneel before—”
“We have lost,” Fiera said back to them.
Tiberus turned to Vi next and she hastily dropped to her knee, bowing her head.
“Kneel,” the Emperor demanded to the rest of the soldiers.
One man and the two women did as they were bid. But the other two remained on their feet.
“We will never kneel before Imperial swine.”
“Kneel or die,” Tiberus reiterated. “I am ready to give this city mercy, but do not test me.”
“We are the Knights of Jadar—”
“And your commander orders you to kneel,” Fiera snapped.
“Our commander would never bend her knee before a Southerner,” one of the men seethed.
“The war is over,” Vi said. “You see the banner.” They all ignored her.
“Kill them,” the Emperor ordered.
“No.” Fiera was on her feet in a moment, blocking the Imperial knights. Swords were drawn from all angles, each pointing at someone different. “They are my responsibility.” Fiera leveled her gaze at Tiberus. For his part, he had very little reaction.
Vi watched closely, seeing her father in both of them—seeing herself. She had given little thought to the blood that was spilled before her birth to build the Empire she would
rule. She’d learned of it, but she hadn’t comprehended the sacrifices or all the tough choices her family had made along the way to build what was known in her age as the greatest Empire the Dark Isle had ever seen.
“Go on, then,” Tiberus said. It sounded like a challenge.
Fiera put her back to the Emperor and his soldiers in an incredible display of faith. “Kneel before our new Emperor.”
“How dare you—”
“I said kneel!” Fiera shouted. “Mhashan has lost enough in the last ten years. We shall lose no more to foolish pride.”
“I will die for my pride.”
“Die, then.” Fiera swung her sword in a wide arc. She didn’t so much as flinch. In one movement, the princess struck down her once-loyal guards by slicing them both at the neck with deadly precision.
Vi watched as the corpses fell. With one swing of her sword, Fiera struck a bloody line in the ground that marked where Mhashan ended, and the rule of Solaris began.
Chapter Four
Vi stared at the wide eyes of the men who had refused to kneel. Now, they were nothing more than two more bodies on the cobblestone streets of Norin.
“You, princess—”
“Fiera,” the woman finished for the Emperor. There was an almost defiant air about her. “Princess Fiera.”
“Fiera.” The Emperor paused. Vi wondered if she was the only one who caught the brief expression of thoughtful surprise. “You were just a slip of a girl when last I saw you.”
“It has been ten long years.”
“Thank your father for that.” Tiberus sheathed his sword, no more pleased than she was. “Speaking of, let us head to the castle. Perhaps now he will be more inclined to discuss the annexation of the West.”
“My father is dead.”
Vi tried to catch the eyes of the other three soldiers to see if they should stand as well, but an unspoken conversation was unfolding among them. Vi remained where she was.
“How do you—”
“Know?” Fiera wiped the blood from the crystal blade nonchalantly, incredibly calm given all that had transpired. “I know because I know my father, and he would’ve never surrendered this city to you. He would be a king of rubble before a servant to a foreign crown.” She sheathed the weapon and Vi shifted her weight over her knee. She couldn’t attempt to take the blade at this moment. Her best chance was to continue letting things play out and look for an opportunity. “I know because I have seen this future in the flames.”
“Unfortunate you couldn’t have seen a path to victory earlier,” Tiberus said arrogantly.
Fiera didn’t rise to the bait. “Your victory was the goddess’s will.”
Tiberus, for his part, didn’t seem the slightest bit unnerved by the proclamation. He didn’t so much as nod to address that he’d heard the incredible statement. But Vi could see in his eyes that he was filing away that particular tidbit for later.
She’d read that her grandfather had claimed it had been his divine right to unite the continent. Now Vi wondered if that idea had originated from him, or Fiera.
“Come, all of you. We start for the castle,” the Emperor declared.
Soldiers fell into step around them and more were gained along the way as they trudged through the empty city roads. It seemed Imperial soldiers were patrolling around every corner of Norin, putting down the last fighters still loyal to the West. Tiberus’s ploy to invade by sea had paid off.
Vi allowed herself to be shepherded along. Taavin had said to get close to the sword and Fiera. This likely wasn’t what he’d had in mind, but the result was the same, which surely counted for something.
They walked in silence all the way to the large city square opposite the castle. Here, crowds of Western soldiers had been gathered. They were penned in by rings of Imperial troops that brandished weapons at them as though they were livestock.
“You three, with the rest of them,” Tiberus commanded. Then, to Fiera, “You’re with me.”
“But—” Vi’s objection was cut off by another.
“Princess, don’t go with him,” the long-haired woman in the group objected. “He will slaughter you with the rest of the blood of Jadar. Run now with the blade and—”
“Get in line with the rest of your lot,” one of the Imperial soldiers growled, pointing his sword at them and motioning to the masses of surrendered Western soldiers.
“Princess!”
“Come on.” Vi grabbed the woman’s elbow as Fiera and Tiberus started along the castle’s lowered drawbridge. “We have to trust that she knows what she’s doing.”
“And who are you to say that?” The woman jerked away. “You’re not one of us,” she said to the Imperial guards. “She’s not one of us!”
“She looks like one of you. Now get in line.”
“This is the will of the head of the Knights of Jadar,” the short-haired woman to Vi’s right said, giving the other woman a firm shove toward the opening in the line of Imperial soldiers. “Obey your commander.”
“She’s not our commander, not anymore,” the man grumbled under his breath. “She murders the Knights she’s sworn to lead. She kneels before foreign kings. She shames the Knights of—”
“Stay your blasphemous tongue.” The short-haired woman just kept pushing.
The opening in the line of Imperial soldiers closed behind them and Vi found herself among a mass of Westerners, packed shoulder to shoulder with barely enough room to move around. This city square was large, but it was quickly filling to capacity. Half the people were coated in soot and blood. Vi took a deep breath, scanning the eyes of the Imperial soldiers brandishing swords in their direction.
Those swords were once intended to protect her. Her stomach knotted as her brain tried to readjust her instinct. Nothing was right. Not even her skin seemed to fit in the same way it once did.
“Are you all right?”
“What?” Vi brought her attention to the short-haired woman at her left. The other woman from Fiera’s guard, who had threatened Vi at dagger point, was still whispering in hushed tones with the man.
“You’re not one of us.” She gave Vi a once-over. “You’re certainly not a Knight of Jadar… and you don’t look like a soldier.”
“I’m neither,” Vi affirmed.
“Fiera didn’t know you. Though she clearly trusted you.” The woman’s eyes were drawn back to the princess, now nothing more than a distant speck at the end of the drawbridge. “If you’re a civilian, you should try to get out now while you still have the chance. There’s no comfort to be had in Norin, but civilians will fare better than soldiers in the days to come.”
“Do you think they’ll believe I’m not a soldier?”
“Fiera could speak for you.”
“She has more important things to worry about.” Staying close to the remaining Knights of Jadar might be her best chance of getting back to the princess—and the sword.
“You’re a true Westerner, sacrificing your wellbeing for her. Trying to help lead us to victory.”
Vi snorted. “I’m not a Westerner.”
“But your features are Western—so Western, you could’ve convinced me you’re a lost sister to the princess.” Vi stopped a snort of laughter at that. “And you speak our tongue so well.”
“I don’t know my parentage,” Vi lied, staring at Fiera and the Emperor until they disappeared from sight into the castle. “And the language I picked up in my travels. I don’t really have a home.”
Especially not anymore. She was alone. The only person she had in this world was the man who had stolen her heart and betrayed her—right before she murdered him.
Yargen had an interesting sense of humor.
“Well, if you don’t have a home, do you have a name? I’m Zira.”
“Yullia.”
“While it was under unpleasant circumstances, it is an honor to meet you, Yullia. I believe the goddess sent you for our princess tonight, to fight for her and this land. Fiera is keen to the will of
the Mother; that must’ve led her to trust you.”
“You have no idea…” Vi murmured.
“Listen up!” An Imperial major stood at the foot of the drawbridge, right where Vi had witnessed Fiera give her last speech hours ago, and boomed over the masses. His pronunciation of Western words was poor and Vi suspected it made his decree even more grating to the ears of those assembled. “You are to be split at random and will be taken to manor houses that have been converted to shelters where you will be held until further notice. Do not resist and the Emperor will see fit to let you live.”
“I wonder how long that kindness will last,” the long-haired Knight mused.
“I’d rather be dead than take kindness from that man,” the other Knight grumbled.
“Quiet, Luke. If you were determined to die, you should’ve stood at the docks,” Zira said.
Luke continued muttering to the long-haired woman, though it was too quiet for Vi to hear.
Not that she was paying much attention anyway. Her thoughts were back in time. According to the history she knew, the Emperor spared the majority of Mhashan’s forces…
But only after he’d made a display of killing off the generals, and quelled the resultant outrage.
The war had ended. But the fighting wouldn’t stop for weeks.
Martial law was enacted in the city—at least, that’s what they were told by whispering servants who were allowed in and out of the manor house once each day to feed the soldiers held inside.
“Here.” Zira startled Vi from her thoughts by thrusting a hunk of bread about the size of Vi’s palm in her face. “Eat it before someone kills you for it.”
“Is this… fresh?” Vi grabbed for the food eagerly, taking a bite so large she was forced to chew with her mouth open. The bread was soft, crust hard, free of mold or weevils, and still had that distinct aroma of fresh-baked deliciousness—a scent she hadn’t smelled in the two weeks since she was imprisoned with the rest of the soldiers. “How did you—”
“The girls say that provisions have arrived from the East. It seems the Emperor has starved us enough and now wishes to win us over by filling our bellies.”