Origins

by A D Starrling

  Mila locked gazes with the first lion. Judging by its body language and the way it controlled the other two’s movements, she was looking at the alpha. And just as she carefully assessed it, it also appraised her, the focused light in its eyes never dimming. It was a hunter’s stare, one that was meant to scare and weaken prey.

  Mila stared right back, stance straight and firm. She took a shallow breath and finally tapped into her hidden core, the side she rarely showed the world, the part that made her the most formidable warrior among all the Immortals.

  From her heart it surged, the power that always lived beneath the surface of her skin, her own unearthly force. It sang through her veins, filling her body with strength so fierce her limbs became as hard as the stone that surrounded her. She fisted her hands and dug her heels in the earth beneath her feet, tasting its heat and reveling in its savagery, letting it fill her mind until all that was left was a single thought. To defeat the enemy, at all costs.

  She bared her teeth in a feral smile.

  Aäron’s breath caught in his throat. He knew without looking that everyone in the arena sensed the change in the woman standing in the pit. She stilled, an intense look of concentration dawning on her face as she stared at the lion who had circled back to a stop in front of her. Then it came, slow waves at first that were followed by a blast of such intensity it raised the hairs on his arms and the back of his neck.

  Power. An energy so pure and raw it nearly rocked him back on his heels.

  His ears popped, as if all the air had been sucked out from around him. Megash and the king gasped beside him, bodies driven back a step by the physical pressure. Down in the pit, the lions’ paws slid in the dirt as they were pushed backward by the same invisible storm. All around the arena, people collapsed to their knees, lungs robbed of breath and faces pale.

  Around the woman in the fighting ground, the air shimmered and vibrated with the ungodly force radiating from her body, suppressing all noise and creating a buzzing, oppressive silence that seemed to fill the entire city and the valley beyond. Movement around her feet caught his eyes. Heart drumming against his ribs, Aäron stared at the specks of dirt dancing on the ground.

  The Red Queen smiled fiercely.

  The alpha hesitated. Then it blinked and took a step toward her. Mila registered the slight drop of its haunches and saw muscles coil for the spring beneath its hide. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the other two lions mimic the alpha’s stance.

  In the frozen moment that followed, she and the alpha glanced at the bident on the ground between them. Then they moved, woman toward beast and beast toward woman.

  One.

  The lion surged on its hind legs as it passed the two-pronged spear, maw open in a vicious snarl that revealed teeth half a foot in length, deadly claws exposed to stab flesh.

  Two.

  Mila jumped. Her leap took her high, the lion’s paws skimming the air inches below her back as she somersaulted over its head.

  Three.

  She landed in a smooth slide that sent her hurtling on her side toward the bident just as the second lion charged across the arena.

  Four.

  She reached out, fingers closing around the staff as she went past, her momentum yanking the embedded prongs out of the ground while her other hand raked the dirt. The earth trembled behind her as the lion approached.

  Five.

  She rolled, snapped the handle of the bident as she sprang to her feet, and saw the swooping shadow to her right.

  Six.

  She cast the dust she had snatched into the lion’s eyes, ducked beneath a powerful strike, and stabbed it in the neck with the jagged end of the handle.

  Seven.

  The beast roared, blood blooming past the stick embedded in its flesh as it batted at the grime clouding its vision. It spun and rose on its hind legs, front paws coming at her head to crush her skull.

  Eight.

  Mila dropped beneath the creature, felt its claws ruffle her hair, and drove the forked prongs into its chest.

  Nine.

  Ribs snapped and flesh tore as she pulled the bident out and stabbed the beast once more, puncturing its lung and heart.

  Ten.

  The lion sagged with a pitiful mewl as she jerked the weapon out of its body. She turned and bolted across the arena, gaze focused on her target, the beast hitting the dirt behind her with a dull thud.

  Eleven.

  The alpha and third lion closed in on her from opposite ends of the pit. She ignored them, dropped to the ground, rolled, and snatched the dagger Gilgamesh had thrown to her.

  Twelve.

  She was on her feet in a heartbeat, legs pounding the ground, the beasts’ hot breaths warming the back of her calves. Cries rose from the crowd as she accelerated toward the stone enclosure.

  Thirteen.

  She leapt up against the wall, air leaving her lips in a harsh exhale, her speed bringing her halfway up in the blink of an eye. The lions bellowed and pulled up hard below her as she scaled the stone palisade.

  Fourteen.

  Hind legs skidding in the dirt, dust clouds rising around their bodies, they leapt and swiped at her with powerful paws. She veered left, out of their reach, and let the pull of the earth bring her down in a wide arc around the beasts.

  Fifteen.

  She pushed off the wall just before she started to fall and twisted through the air, landing hard on the ground twenty feet behind them. They whirled around and came at her, bloodlust filling their golden eyes and rage distorting their faces.

  Sixteen.

  Mila ran toward them, the dagger in her left hand, the pronged weapon in her right.

  Seventeen.

  She slipped between their bodies, raked the third lion across the face with the two-pronged spear, and slashed the alpha across the left flank with the blade, movements lightning fast, always a hairbreadth short of their teeth and claws.

  Eighteen.

  She raced through them and let her momentum carry her to the wall once more, never slowing as they turned and gave chase. The stone cracked beneath the power of her step when she pushed up against it. She lifted off and somersaulted in the air.

  Nineteen.

  The bewildered beasts went into a wild skid and rounded to face her when she touched down in a flawless landing behind them once more, feet sliding backward in the dirt.

  Twenty.

  The alpha roared and charged. Mila narrowed her eyes and dashed toward the beast.

  Twenty-one.

  She dropped to the ground just before it reached her, the bident and dagger carving deep trails in its belly as she slipped under its body and out the other side.

  Twenty-two.

  A loud bellow sounded at her back as she jumped to her feet and headed for the lion with the wounded face.

  Twenty-three.

  The animal blinked away the blood dripping into its eyes and reared up on its hind legs as she approached. Mila turned the dagger blade down against her forearm and blocked its first strike with the flat side of the metal.

  Twenty-four.

  She swooped beneath the second strike, pierced the pulsing life line in its neck with the bident, lunged low, and slashed the dagger across the second life line in its groin.

  Twenty-five.

  The beast stilled before dropping heavily on all fours. Blood gushed from its wounds. It staggered sideways and fell to the ground in an expanding crimson circle, rib cage heaving with shuddering breaths.

  Twenty-six.

  Mila turned and faced the alpha as it barreled toward her. Muscles coiled in the animal’s powerful limbs, scarlet drops trailing from the wounds she had inflicted and staining the dirt in its passage, its golden gaze as heated as the sun.

  Twenty-seven.

  She stood her ground, grip tightening on the weapons in her hands, heels digging into the dirt.

  Twenty-eight.

  The crowd gasped as the lion sprung into the air with a bellow. Mila be
nt her knees and leapt, teeth bared, a snarl leaving her lips. Time slowed as they moved inexorably toward each other, the shadow of the beast engulfing her and blotting out the sky as she raised her weapons.

  Twenty-nine.

  The lion’s paw struck her in the chest, robbing her of her breath. She thought she heard Aäron shout her name as she hit the ground hard. Then the beast was upon her, all claws and teeth and rage.

  Thirty.

  Aäron’s fingers whitened on the parapet of the terrace, heart thrumming against his ribs, his gaze fixed unblinkingly on the bloodied pit and the giant, golden body of the alpha writhing in the dirt. It raised dust clouds as it moved, paws batting and jaws snapping at the invisible enemy beneath it. All around the arena, the crowd was on its feet, eyes wide with shock and bated expectation, breath frozen on parted lips.

  Below them, the lion’s movements suddenly slowed. Its head drooped. A moment later, it sagged to the ground, a red tide oozing from beneath its limp body. Then, it shifted slightly.

  For an instant, Aäron thought the beast was about to stand again. Then he saw the figure pushing its way out from beneath it.

  She rose to her feet, the dead beast at her back, blood dripping from the weapons in her hands and melting into the expanding pool around her feet. As she stood glaring at them from pale eyes, limbs locked in battle stance, clothes, skin, and hair stained crimson with the blood of the creatures she had so skillfully slain in thirty beats, body still vibrating with a powerful energy that resonated around the battle ground, Aäron finally understood.

  In all the time he had known her, Mila had never shown him her true strength. Even when they had parried on the banks of the Tigra so many moons ago on their way to Hazaara, and more recently still on the training grounds of Issin, she had always held back. He felt strangely hurt by that fact, yet was utterly grateful at the same time. He was no match for her.

  No one was.

  He could see this reality dawn on the faces of everyone in the arena. If she so wished, the woman in the pit could walk out of the city right now and leave this valley. And all that would be left in her wake would be the bodies of the dead and utter destruction.

  ‘The Red Queen,’ Gilgamesh breathed in the stunned silence.

  King Gishur smiled, his expression strangely triumphant.

  Aäron ignored them and stared at the woman in the pit, something twisting inside his chest. Something that had nothing to do with fear and caused his heart to race even faster.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  ‘That was quite a show.’

  Mila finished splashing water on her face and neck, and looked up to see King Gishur in the doorway of the chamber. They were still inside the arena.

  She ignored the four soldiers who stood watching her guardedly from around the room and cocked an eyebrow at the king. ‘That was quite a gamble.’

  He smiled, crossed the floor toward her, and took a seat on a stone bench. He signaled to the soldiers. They hesitated before exiting the chamber.

  ‘You saw through that, did you?’

  ‘I would make a paltry lieutenant commander if I had not,’ Mila said acerbically. ‘Besides, you are several hundred years too young to fool me.’

  She turned to the water barrel and cleaned the blood from her arms as best she could.

  ‘But it worked. Although the commanders and captains of our army trust the judgment of my son and would eventually have come around to his way of thinking, my people needed to see you fight. So did the spies among them who will no doubt communicate the events of the day to the governors who have pledged their alliance to us.’

  Faint, yet still audible through the thick stone walls that separated them from the open space of the arena, energetic chanting sounded from the crowd. They were shouting her name. Or, rather, they were shouting for the Red Queen.

  King Gishur sighed. ‘Do not give me that look. You and I both know that authority inevitably gives rise to envy and deceit. You and your kin must have seen plenty of that over the years of your existence. We need to be seen to be making decisions that our allies and our people understand.’

  Mila studied him wordlessly as she scrubbed her hands clean.

  The king’s face hardened. ‘As long as we all work together to achieve our common goal, that is all that matters. We can fight among ourselves afterward.’ He frowned. ‘The power of “The Red Queen” is now an undisputed image branded in the mind of every man, woman, and child out there. The people believe in your strength. When the time comes, they will fight by your side. Mark my words, tales of this contest will be retold for generations to come.’

  Mila paused and narrowed her eyes. ‘Whatever your motives, I do not appreciate being put on show.’

  The king hesitated before rising to his feet.

  He bowed. ‘For that, I apologize.’

  Mila masked her surprise behind a cool stare.

  ‘Apology accepted,’ she muttered.

  The king broke eye contact and strolled around the chamber, fingers rising distractedly to touch the chainmail tunics and armor hanging on the walls. In that moment, Mila saw hints of Aäron in the older man. Amusement shot through her.

  ‘I saw you once,’ King Gishur finally said. ‘At the battle of Kadavan. You hesitated before you felled the governor.’

  Mila blinked. Like the son, the father never ceases to amaze me.

  ‘It was the first time I suspected there was hope.’ He met her eyes, his filled with the same light she had glimpsed in Aäron’s gaze in the days they had spent together, a light that stirred unease inside her heart. ‘Hope that the children of the Immortal kings who ruled us so cruelly were perhaps not as merciless as their fathers. Hope that one day, some of you would rise against them. That is why I sent my son to Uryl. But still, I did not trust you.’

  Mila kept her face carefully blank. ‘And you do now?’

  ‘You could have resisted when I had you arrested. You could have escaped from the dungeon I had you locked in and fought your way out of this city. You could have killed all of us. But you did none of those things.’

  ‘What makes you think I do not have ulterior motives? That I am not, right at this very moment, assessing the defenses of your palace and city? That I will not return with an army to defeat you?’ Mila’s hands fisted at her sides, an uncommon bout of frustration darting through her, her tone turning harsh. ‘You would be wise not to trust your enemy so easily, human king, let alone an Immortal like me. Like your grandson said, we are monsters who would slaughter you as soon as look at you.’

  A sad smile curved King Gishur’s lips as he watched her. ‘Crovir killed Romerus, his own father, his flesh and blood, and, from what Aäron has told me, the man you loved most in the world. He has framed you for the murder and made you a fugitive of the very Empire you presided over with your siblings and cousins for hundreds of years. He has driven you to abandon your family and children, and has no doubt spread lies about your ill intentions to further widen the rift between you and your kin.’ He paused. ‘You and I both know that he will have no choice but to issue a sentence for your arrest and execution before the next Full Moon.’

  It took all of her will to clamp down on the rage and sorrow that surged through her veins at his words. She took a shuddering breath and composed her features into a cold mask once more.

  ‘There is one last thing. One more reason why I choose to put my trust in you, Immortal child,’ King Gishur added softly.

  Mila lifted her chin challengingly. ‘And what is that?’

  ‘My son believes in you.’

  Aäron hesitated before rapping his knuckles gently on the door. The hour was late and silence filled the corridors of the palace. He wiped his moist palms on his tunic as he waited in the half-gloom, a burst of unusual nervousness causing his stomach muscles to clench.

  ‘Come in,’ someone called out from the other side.

  Aäron opened the door and crossed the threshold, only to come face to face wi
th the last woman he expected to see.

  He scowled. ‘Nisuna! What are you doing here?’

  His sister-in-law, wife of his brother Megash and mother of Gilgamesh, arched an elegant eyebrow from where she perched on the edge of the bed dominating the guest chamber.

  ‘Why, good night to you too, brother,’ she said in a saccharine voice.

  Aäron’s gaze skimmed the billowing curtains on the balcony, the fire in the hearth, and the oil lamps casting a warm glow on the pale stone walls, before landing on the open doorway of the bathing quarters to the far left.

  ‘Is she in there?’

  ‘Indeed she is, brother,’ said Nisuna with a knowing grin. ‘The Red Queen felt in need of another bath after that ungodly fight, so I asked my attendants to see to her.’ She paused, her expression turning innocent. ‘What are you doing here, brother?’

  ‘I need to talk to her,’ said Aäron, unable to mask the defensive note that crept into his voice.

  ‘Oh my.’ Nisuna’s grin turned sly. ‘Even though you spent all that time together at the feast we held in her honor tonight?’

  ‘May I remind you that Megash and the king were also involved in those conversations?’ said Aäron coolly.

  Before Nisuna could utter a riposte, a clamor rose from the direction of the bathing quarters.

  ‘Princess! Red Qu—! My dear, you cannot very well go out like that! Let us tend to you, I beg of you. Princess Nisuna will be most upset if she sees you in this state!’

  A middle-aged woman walked backward out of the passage and into the main bedchamber, a large bath cloth in her hands and a pleading expression on her face. She was followed by three other maids, all looking similarly flushed and distressed.

  ‘No, thank you, you have done enough.’ Mila’s cold voice echoed against the marble floor and walls of the corridor as she drew near. ‘I have no wish to be pampered and sprayed with rose water from head to toe like a bride on her wedding night. All I asked for was hot water and bathing salts. And the princess is a woman. It is not as if she has never before set eyes on the female form.’