Born of Blood (The Valdir Chronicles Book 3)

by RA Lewis

  Next came the foot soldiers. Leif signaled to his captains and they began marching forward en mass. Kalina watched, her heart in her throat as each side sent volleys of arrows toward one another, the Askorian catapults doing irrevocable damage to her forces. But she gritted her teeth and sent in the wyverns with a second barrage of stones and projectiles from the sky. She cried out slightly in horror as a few wyverns fell from the skies, victims to the catapults, but the majority, including Savath, were able to drop their rocks and turn back without getting killed.

  “Target those catapults!” Leif roared above the din of battle, signaling to the aerial squadrons that flew overhead.

  Rangvald motioned once again to Sunniva and together they flew closer, their battalions of dragons behind them, aiming for the catapults. Kalina watched as Sunniva dove, Astrid right behind her towards a catapult on the ground. Together the two women and their dragons tore the launching arm off the structure and carried it high into the sky, dropping it down on the screaming soldiers below. Kalina let out a breath she’d not known she’d been holding. Rangvald and his forces destroyed the other catapults in a matter of minutes, using a combination of large chunks of ice dropped directly from overhead and tearing the mechanisms apart as Sunniva had.

  The battle raged on as the sun drew towards the western horizon, Askor’s forces never seemed to dim or slacken, their lines ever replenished while Kalina’s lines grew weaker, fraying at the edges, her soldiers beginning to flag. She was itching to be down there, fighting alongside her men as she had done with the Valdir in the past. But Leif, as well as many of her council members, had agreed that she was more valuable alive than dead.

  She looked to Leif whose grim face confirmed her fears. She nodded to him and he signaled to the dragons to make yet another pass, this time each equipped with Emberweed. Massive gouts of flame erupted all across the battlefield as the dragons flamed great swathes of the enemy. For a moment, it looked like that was the advantage they needed, like they might be turning the tide of the war, and Kalina was just about to launch the rest of her forces forward into a final push to press their advantage, when a horn blew from somewhere behind her.

  She turned in her saddle, and Maska snaked his head to peer backward.

  “What do you see?” she asked anxiously. Maska’s eyes were better than hers; he could see a small mouse running through the grass from a mile in the sky. He let out a snort of anger.

  “A second Askorian force, the one from the eastern shore, has snuck up behind us,” he said. “We are surrounded.”

  Kalina’s heart sank in her chest. Leif reached across the distance between them and grabbed her hand reassuringly. She squeezed his hand back absently but her mind was racing. What had happened with Ablen attacking the eastern force? Where did this second army come from?

  “Direct the wyverns and some of our ground troops to the rear, see if we can keep them back a while longer. Prince Simen, is there any way to break your father’s lines? Any weakness you know of?”

  “No, your Majesty. He has a huge supply of indentured and enslaved men and women to fight for him. He is not picky. He will throw every man, woman, and child in this country before you in order to win.”

  Kalina froze in her seat, watching the Prince’s face.

  “Did you say enslaved? Indentured? Are those people there because they are being forced?” She pointed out to the bloody battlefield where the fighting still raged. The Prince nodded.

  “Yes. Part of the reason we are so mighty a nation is because we require military service from every single man born within our country’s borders.”

  “Stop. Stop the fighting,” Kalina whispered, suddenly having trouble breathing. They were killing innocent men and women. They were dying for a mad man’s war. For her war. Her army was fighting out of loyalty and support and desperation. King Blackbourne’s was there because they had no other choice. She couldn’t kill them. “Stop. Surrender.” She looked up into Leif’s grey eyes, fear and immense sorrow filling hers.

  Leif looked at her like she was mad for a moment before realization dawned on his face. Then he too became enraged. He bellowed to his captains to withdraw, to sound the surrender. Kalina watched in helpless sadness, fear, and rage as her armies broke away from the fighting and ran. A boom sounded beside her and she looked over to see Sunniva on her ice blue dragon, with Kari landing beside her, both angry and concerned.

  “Why are we retreating? We need to keep fighting!” Sunniva said.

  “We have them on the run, Kalina. Let us do our jobs!” Kari was obviously frustrated and Kalina could see an echo of their old quarrel in her cousin’s eyes. But this time she wasn’t being overly cautious. She was trying to save lives. She couldn’t burn an entire army of innocents.

  “Their army is full of slaves,” she ground out, clutching her ribs. Her breath seemed trapped in her chest, panic a rising tide within her. “We cannot keep killing the innocent. Not anymore.”

  Kari and Sunniva looked to Leif who nodded.

  “Tell everyone to retreat, and raise a flag of surrender.”

  “No.” Kalina put out a hand to stop them. “Raise a flag of parlay. I need to speak to Blackbourne.”

  “Are you sure that’s wise?” Leif asked, worry evident in the crease between his brows. Kalina nodded, the pain in her chest subsiding and a plan began to take shape.

  “Yes. I need to see the King.”

  They met in a tent on a hill to the east, away from the city and the vale before it where their soldiers lay dead and dying. Kalina brought Leif, Sunniva, Kari, and Prince Simen with her. She left Rangvald in charge of the army and Eira in charge of setting up a field hospital to care for the injured. She didn’t know what to expect but she entered the tent with her head held high and an expectation in her heart.

  King Blackbourne was already seated in an oaken chair, his voluminous robes flowing around him, hiding the frail body that lay beneath. His age was certainly showing, his grey wisps of hair thinner still on the sides of his balding pate and his skin was sallower than the last time she’d seen him. But stress and war would do that to a person. There were bags beneath her own eyes that she hadn’t had a year ago.

  Arrayed behind him stood Prince Endre, Prince Julian, and his Queen, Marin. The redheaded woman smirked at Kalina when she entered, her foxes’ eyes inspecting Kalina from head to toe, no doubt thinking that Kalina didn’t look a thing like a queen. But Kalina didn’t care in that moment. She was on a mission.

  “King Blackbourne. Thank you for meeting with me.”

  “It seemed I didn’t have a choice unless I wanted to slaughter your army in their beds.” He said cruelly. Kalina gave him a smile anyway.

  “You’d never catch us sleeping. But that’s not why I’m here. I am here to discuss the terms of a parlay. A way to end this war between Askor and Ethea once and for all.”

  The King raised an eyebrow at her, obviously intrigued.

  “And what, pray tell, is this marvelous proposal? I’d be interested to learn what you think will put an end to this war.”

  Kalina steeled herself before stepping forward and throwing one of her gauntlets at the King’s feet. A gasp went through the tent, for she’d not told her own people her plan.

  “I challenge you to one-on-one combat. Winner takes all. You know as well as I that as long as we are both living there will be war. So let us end this. Civilly, humanely, with as little loss of life on both sides as possible.”

  King Blackbourne eyed the gauntlet and her for a few moments, and Kalina’s gut churned in anticipation and fear. But she held his gaze, refusing to show him any signs of weakness.

  “Very well. But due to my age, I reserve the right to appoint a champion.”

  “Agreed. You have that right, but if I win, then you must agree to abide by the terms of the agreement. No more war. Peace between our two lands, and I as Queen upon your throne.”

  “Agreed. But it is a fight to the death.”

 
; Kalina hesitated the barest moment, her eyes flicking to Leif’s. In that moment she saw pride as well as fear mixed in his gaze. Her heart lurched. She’d known it might come to this. Was she willing to die for peace? She was.

  “Agreed.” She looked back to the King. “Who do you appoint?”

  “My son, Prince Endre.”

  Kalina’s heart flipped. She had never seen Endre use the long sword he always wore strapped to his side but she would bet he knew how to use it. She nodded to the older man.

  “Fine.”

  “I will agree to this on one condition,” the King said quickly.

  Kalina could see a greedy gleam in the old man’s eye. But she nodded for him to continue.

  “I will only agree if, once I win, the ice dragons will submit to my rule.”

  Kalina looked at Sunniva whose beautiful face was enraged. Sunniva’s eyes locked with hers and Kalina gave her a small nod. Sunniva’s face fell, fear as well as hope mingled there, and she nodded back.

  “Fine. If you win, the Vanir are yours to command.”

  The King grinned, his crooked yellowed teeth making Kalina’s stomach churn. She hoped this was the right gamble.

  “Very well. Sunset, on this very hill.”

  “Done.”

  Sunset was only two hours away. Just enough time for her to prepare her people to flee should everything go wrong. Just enough time to say goodbye to Leif, just in case. Just enough time to spend one final flight with Maska. Just enough time to prepare to die.

  Chapter 39

  A circle had been dug into the dirt and snow atop the hill, creating a small quagmire of freezing mud. Kalina stood on one side, her closest companions arranged around her, watching as King Blackbourne spoke quietly in Prince Endre’s ear. Prince Endre had stripped down to his dark leather pants and a thin cotton shirt that blew in the chill breeze that kissed the hilltop. For the first time, Kalina could barely tell that he was as old as her father had been. He seemed just as formidable an opponent as a young, strapping warrior. She shivered as she watched him.

  “Keep your leathers on, but let’s take off the dragon scales. Too flashy,” Kari said. Kalina tore her eyes from the prince to look into her cousin’s eyes.

  “They are quite light actually. I’d like to leave them on.” Her eyes darted to Leif who stood a few feet away. He gave her a small smile. Kari shrugged and helped her strap her axes to her hips for better access. Kalina slipped a knife into her boot as well, just in case. She slid a look toward the prince preparing across the muddy circle and saw he had his sword strapped to one hip and a wicked long dagger strapped to the other. She sucked in a deep breath then let it out. The last time she’d done this, fought someone for a throne, had been against Jormungand, back when he’d challenged her right to rule. This was no different, she told herself. The Valdir were trained to fight from birth, as were the Askorians, and she had beat Jormungand. So she could beat Endre. She hoped.

  Kalina looked over her friend’s shoulders to where Maska stood at the edge of the gathered crowd. His night eyes watched her solemnly. She had said all she’d needed to say to him. She’d flown with him one last time, just in case this ended badly. And she loved him with a fierceness that gave her strength. He opened his jaw in a dragon smile, exposing teeth as long as her forearm. He would avenge her if she died, she knew. He’d go mad with the loss, the deep magic unraveling within him. Like Nash had. That was the only thing she regretted. She didn’t want to leave Maska alone and mad but she had no choice. Not if she wanted to stop the killing. She turned to Leif.

  “Promise me when you get back home, you will find some quiet farm for Nash to live on. No one deserves to spend their life in a cell.” She looked up into his grey eyes and saw them soften. He wouldn’t kiss her, not here surrounded by the enemy. But he reached out and squeezed her hand tightly, trying to convey all his feelings in that one touch, in that one look.

  “I promise, my Queen.”

  She had said all there needed to be said to him, too. A quiet half-hour spent in her tent, holding one another and speaking softly. He had done his best to take her mind off the very real and looming possibility that she might die by talking about the future, their future. A future so bright and beautiful that Kalina hoped with all her heart that she could see it come true.

  “Don’t you dare give him that sad smile, my girl.” Eira was before her now, pushing Leif aside. “Don’t you dare think about dying, you hear me? You are going to fight. Fight with everything you have.”

  Kalina pulled her aunt close in a tight embrace, tears pricking at her eyelids as she squeezed them shut.

  “I promise. I’ll fight.”

  Sunniva was there when she released Eira.

  “Use that anger, sister. Use it to win. I will not be a slave to that man.”

  Kalina nodded and clasped forearms with her long-lost kin.

  “I will.”

  And then it was time.

  She stepped into the ring opposite Prince Endre. His stony face was set and she could not read his emotions at all. She did her best to copy him, shoving down her rising panic and fear and settling into the place within her that allowed her to fight, to kill. A calm washed over her as the King of Askor stepped forward.

  “This fight is to the death, winner takes both the kingdom of Askor and the kingdom of Ethea. As well as the loyalty of the Vanir and the Valdir. May the best man, oh-,” he looked at Kalina and smirked. “Excuse me, or girl- win.” Then he stepped back.

  Kalina clenched her jaw, ignoring his jabs, and focused all her attention on Prince Endre, to the exclusion of all else around her. The outside world faded away and only the fight and her opponent mattered.

  They circled for a moment, drawing ever closer, neither fighter keener to strike the first blow than the other. Finally, Kalina grew frustrated and lunged, her axes swishing through the air a hair’s breadth away from Endre’s ear. He side-stepped her blow and came in low while she was extended, his short sword biting into her upper left thigh. She hissed as she jumped back and resumed circling. It was a stupid mistake, leaving herself open, but they couldn’t circle forever. Endre’s face never moved, never even cracked a smile at his hit.

  Kalina lunged again, this time ready for his attack, but instead of going low he went high, dancing out of the way of her ax and landing a second blow on her upper right arm. This time the cut was a bit deeper, and blood immediately began to soak her tunic. He was deliberately allowing her to launch and then hitting where her padding and protection were weakest. So Kalina settled back, content to wait for him to attack her next.

  He seemed to sense her game and he conceded, stepping inside her guard more quickly than she thought possible and trying to skewer her middle. But the golden dragon scales did their job, turning aside the long sword in a glancing blow that knocked the wind out of her. She managed to swing her ax low and catch the edge of his leg, blood spurting. He stepped away, letting out a sharp breath.

  She took his momentary distraction as an opportunity. She drew her second ax and came in with a two-handed approach, axes whistling through the air, one high and one low. He wasn’t expecting her to attack and he stumbled back a step, as she stomped forward, lunging with her right ax to sever two fingers on his left hand. They went flying through the air, and for a moment, the world seemed to still and she watched their bloody progress across the sky until they hit the mud below them in a sickening squelch. Time sped back up, adrenaline pumping through her veins.

  Endre roared and her eyes snapped back to his face. He came in wildly, blindly, savagely, and it was all she could do not to slip in the mud as she backed up frantically, trying to avoid his blows to her head, belly, and legs.

  Suddenly she slipped, her legs going out from underneath her as she landed hard in the mud, a freezing cold mixture splattering up and covering her from head to toe. The outside world came rushing back, the crowd let out a gasp as she lost her grip on her axes and they slid away in the mud, just o
ut of reach. She scrambled to get back up, to reach for her weapons, but a swift kick to her abdomen had her sprawling on her back, the slick feel of mud covering her skin.

  Prince Endre stood over her, panting, his left hand dripping gore onto the ground. She could finally see emotion on his face, and it was fear. Fear and rage. Emotions Kalina knew all too well. He raised his sword above his head, and Kalina knew in her bones this was her end.

  She had failed.

  No one was going to save her. This was on her head alone, and the entire fate of her people, Ethean, Valdir, Vanir, and dragons alike, weighed on her shoulders. She felt that burden like a physical pressure, holding her down, pinning her to the mud. It was her fault. She had failed everyone. Was she really giving up, to die here in the mud like some worm crushed beneath Askor’s boot?

  “No!” The scream tore out of her throat, raw and animalistic.

  The sword came down a split second later and found flesh and blood and mud, but no bone. No vital organs clung to the blade. Only her shorn off battle braids lay in the mud.

  Kalina had rolled away just in time, the crown Prince’s sword slicing through her scalp and battle braids on her left-hand side, taking a chunk of skin and hair with it. She had left her boot knife embedded in his thigh, too. Screaming as she rolled, she used her momentum and anger to launch herself across the slippery mud and to grasp an ax in her hand, her other discarded.

  And then she was on her feet gingerly touching the side of her face, coated with blood and mud, her golden armor stained red and brown. Before her, Prince Endre knelt, his left hand around the knife in his leg, unable to withdraw it due to his missing fingers. Kalina was behind him in an instant, drawing his chin back and placing her ax blade against his throat.

  “To the death!” Yelled the crowd, egging her on, inviting her to slice the Prince’s throat. Kalina was tempted. She wanted to spill Askorian blood, as she’d wanted to all day. But she also wanted to see the look in King Blackbourne’s eyes as she killed his heir and son. She looked up and found his face in the crowd, but she didn’t see fear or sadness or even love there. She saw only sneering anger and disgust. It made her feel sorry for the Prince whose life she held in her hands. And suddenly, she knew deep in her gut that the King would never abide by their agreement. He would continue to fight her and slaughter her people.