Winter Reign: Rise of the Winter Queen

by N. M. Howell

  Before an hour has passed the city of Golrend has been reclaimed. The red-headed citizens of the city who survived as prisoners are freed and fed. The Amber is extinguished and the banners of the Famished are destroyed everywhere they hang. Ciraa is reunited with Thea, who is now able to walk with some assistance. Yunger enters the mess hall and finds them.

  “How are you, my lady?” he asks.

  “Much better now, General,” Thea says. “I cannot tell you how grateful we are for rescue or how happy we are to see you alive and whole.”

  “I am fortunate to be here. When we tried to escape in Gardenwall we were assaulted in the entrance hall. I fought my hardest, but was overwhelmed. The Famished rain me through twice and left me in the river for dead, but I fought off death and came back to repay them. I met four separate battalions along the way and I gathered them for this attack. We saw the watch was away.”

  “Well, you have Jasslwyn to thank for that,” Thea says.

  “What do you mean?” he asks.

  “Tell him,” she says to Ciraa.

  “I came to Lady Thea last night and asked her to show me the way. Her pure magic lent me a vision. I saw myself holding a small, golden vial and standing before the apothecary. So crept back up to Legion’s chamber and as he slept I opened his trunk. Inside were many of the same golden vials. The Amber. I took one and crept out of the Citadel. At the apothecary I poured the contents of the vial over the shop floor and lit it with kindling. The Amber raged and was fed by the apothecary’s chemicals. The apothecary is in the oldest part of the city, where the buildings are made of wood. The entire quarter was aflame within a half hour. By the time the Famished knew of the fire it was spreading like madness. All day they worked to stop the flames and when night came they were too tired to take their posts, leaving you to storm the city and save us.”

  “She is a hero in her own right,” says Thea.

  “I doubt that. When Legion found that a vial was missing he was enraged. If you hadn’t come when you did--”

  “Nonsense,” Yunger says. “There is no man and no circumstance that can keep me from you when you have need of me.”

  Before he can stop himself he has taken her hand. At first he is afraid, but then she returns the pressure. Suddenly the thought of being honest about those feelings he has harbored for such long years is not so very terrifying at all.

  Laoren has split the earth. In her rage and frustration she expended her power against the very land she stood on and it opened like a hot, yawning mouth of doom. The chasm is so wide that that the river begins to pour into it. The heat and stench of the earth push up through the opening and meet the world. The horrific scar on the face of the earth is visible in either direction as far as the eye can see. This is the start of a new age of hate for her.

  Now that her full power has returned, Laoren can sense the world once more. She knows that Delara has died and this fact fills her with no end of fury. She also senses that the child, her property and the key to unlocking the Stones, is with Nevena in the land of Dao. And then she goes blank, too angry for words or thought or movement. She simply kneels in the grass and shakes with total hate. Thousands of years she has waited, plotted, and killed to get to this day, this hour when the key to the cosmos should be in the palm of her hand, but that whore Queen has become a hindrance. But this is the last time. She takes to the sky, with a single thought occupying mind, heart, spirit, and soul.

  Destruction.

  Chapter 25

  In the Winterlands, Corinnalwyn and her people have slowly become more acclimated to being above ground. Their land is a cruel sight and the stench of death hangs in the air, but there is still some reverberation of joy in their circumstance. The king and Queen walk among their people, calming them and seeking to highlight the wondrous condition of living above ground. But though they bring strength to their people, Rhealwyn and Corinnalwyn worry themselves sick inside. All they can think about is their daughter, whom they lost for twenty eight long years only to find her and have to send her away again in the same night.

  As all the people search their hearts and try to rejoice amidst the terrible destruction, one man sits apart, scowling at the joy of others and plotting the death of them all. Ragnarok. He cannot even put into words how much he hates this people: their hopefulness, their unity, their universal contempt for the Almighty. For him. His happiest days were when his Braelish mother and father died. Too long has he lain underground among them, suffering their whimpering faith. He sits with his back to them, his legs drawn to his chest and held by his arms. Even after everything that has befallen him, the blue scar still hurts.

  As the king and Queen talk with their people and have food brought up from the tunnels, a noise is heard. Corinnalwyn has cooled all the fire in their immediate vicinity and so the Braelynn turn to face the sound. What they see is a phalanx heading right for them. Strange, frightening men approach, and they have a most terrible look about them. Their hands are normal size, but their fingers are as long as arms. Where their heads should be there is merely a ball of black smoke; where the eyes should be there are two holes in the smoke, from front to back. They hover as they race toward the Braelynn. The Helkar. Ragnarok smiles. It will give him unending pleasure to see these people murdered.

  But Corinnalwyn is quick. With a throw of her hands she erects a massive wall of ice in front of her people. She is the only one left in front of it and the wall stretches too high to be overcome by any movement except flying. Ragnarok is stunned. He cannot believe it. One of the Braelynn comes over.

  “Let us get away from this wall,” he says. “Our Queen fights for us now. We should not keep ourselves in danger when she is so brave and selfless.”

  But Ragnarok does not move. He is peering hard at the ice wall, attempting to make out the blurs on the other side.

  “You must come with me now,” the man says. “Follow where I lead, Analwyn.”

  Reluctantly, Ragnarok moves. He could destroy this man and his entire family, but he chooses not to. Not yet.

  On the other side of the wall Corinnalwyn takes a firm stance.

  “You will not pass this body or this wall,” she says.

  “Frayunn undf stunnvonn egalstist.”

  “I do not know your foul tongue, demons, but you should know this: I am Corinnalwyn, Winter Queen and mother of the great warrior Maerolwyn. Though I have spent a life under the earth, I had with me there the spell book of the last Queen to reign above these tunnels. Know also that a long time ago a Braelynn spy tricked the Almighty and when she returned she brought seven more spell books, from the very closet of the Almighty himself.”

  She conjures a chain and whips it around the throat of a Helkar; her winter magic travels though it and he freezes, then topples over and shatters. The other Helkar give pause. Corinnalwyn stands, proud, strong, and beautiful. A powerful force that has been waiting to unleash itself. The other Helkar are now enraged and charge her. And for the first time in her life Corinnalwyn uncages her might.

  The dragons spew their fire hotter and harder than ever before. The blue flames have relit the world against the yellow rays of the sun. I have charmed my skin so that I am impervious to the flames, but the Famished around me perish. It was a shock to come upon these men, invulnerable to magic, but my blade is inescapable. As the dragons rain fire from above, I dart across the field piercing sides and stabbing hearts. I have not felt this dark and angry since Night’s Deep. I slash and cut and stab and swing as if the movement of my blade was my life breath. I indulge no cries for mercy. I offer no pity. The Blackhearts and Eduard are several hundred yards away, fighting the Norrolai and Helkar who came to fight the Famished. The fury of the Blackhearts is a strange thing to see, for no one ever thought rock and stone to look so horrifyingly angry. Some Meethrul and Vampires had arrived, but those unable to flee once they saw the dragons were either swallowed whole or blackened by the fire and left to fall charred and brittle to the earth.

 
; My blade dances around me, and I underneath it.

  “Light work we made of these,” Eduard says. “Lead us to the next fight.

  Blackhearts and dragons all nod their agreement and readiness, but I am thinking, calming myself as much as possible.

  “We shall make as straight a line for Laoren as we can,” I say. “But I do not want to repeat the mistakes of my past.”

  “What mistakes?” Eduard asks.

  “I must think of more than my own desire for revenge. Thea and Ciraa still wait for rescue. One of Yunger’s soldier told me Legion took them with him to the siege of Golrend. I sense her them there.”

  “Your power is that strong?”

  “When I touched the tablet I was given back my power, and more also. The tablet is powerful. It must be returned to my people as soon as possible. I can sense Laoren as well. She comes for the child.”

  “She will be safe at Moerdra Castle and invisible under our spells.”

  “It was a large risk. This is Delara’s daughter and I wish to treat her as my own. But she is not the only one in danger. Thea has the pure magic, too. When Laoren realizes that, she will go for her.”

  “Then we must make haste.”

  I turn to look at our forces. Seven hundred dragons, nearly a thousand Blackhearts, and three hundred thousand men and women in arms. The other three hundred thousand we have deployed elsewhere. I split them all into three group: one to head north, another to go east, and the last to go south. Eduard and I will go with only Roasha and Kalsha, for soldiers and Blackhearts would slow us down. We climb upon their backs and I address those fighting for us.

  “This war is not done until we have defeated our enemy or until we are all dead. I do not know what your hearts want, but mine does not seek the sleep of death this day. My heart yearns for a world at peace, where love and faith can replace this burning evil that has run rampant on the earth. Every race of man and beast has risen to the call, whether for good or evil. An entire world at war. When a life age of the earth has passed, legends of this great conflict and its heroes will still be sung from the mouths of men and babes alike. Will you have them sing of a war from which you ran, a battle that would have been won had you but swung your sword? Would you have your drifting spirit look upon a world that rose or fell without the sweat of your brow or the strength of your hand? We are warriors and we may win this darkest test of souls if we are brave, fierce, and unyielding. I would have you all at my side as the final clash of steel brings this great cataclysm to an end, but such an end must be to our favor. Will you fight for such a cause?”

  The response is thunderous; men and women beat blade against shield, while Blackhearts stomp the earth and dragons burn the sky in blue. Now they are ready. Now they will be reckoned with. On the backs of Roasha and Kalsha, Eduard and I take off into the air. The dragons’ flight is like cutting the wind. But just as I begin to allow myself to grow happy at the thought of seeing Ciraa and Thea again, I feel her. Laoren.

  Thea’s head is hurting, bleeding. Baehren lies unconscious under the rubble beside her and Marciason is nowhere to be seen. There is a large piece of stone lying on her arm, but she uses a soldier’s sword for leverage and pushes it off. She coughs, for the air is thick with dust and ash. It is also thick with screams. Thea raises herself to her knees. She tries to gain her feet and it takes several attempts and much pain. As she moves, slowly putting one foot before another and pausing after each step, she uses the table and rubble to hold herself up. She looks around the room and sees bodies everywhere. Most are moving or calling out for help, but some are still. She looks to her left where the wall used to be. Now the sun streams down into the room, hot and brilliant. The Citadel has been attacked.

  Thea moves some ways farther, but then she hears something above her. Screams. But they are not cries for help as she heard before, but screams of torture. Someone is killing soldiers upstairs. Frantically, trying to move as quickly as she can, Thea searches and searches until she sees Yunger lying to her right. She drops down beside him. She rolls him over and finds Ciraa beneath him. He was struck while protecting her. Suddenly a terrible noise begins upstairs, as if the Citadel were breaking apart. Thea tries her hardest to wake Yunger, but he does not respond.

  “Yunger!”

  But the moment the word escapes her mouth, the noise stops upstairs. Thea goes quiet, but somehow she knows it is too late. There is the sound of a great rush of wind somewhere in the Citadel and then something explodes through the roof above her. Thea covers her eyes. When she opens them again, Laoren is floating in the air above her. She gazes down at Thea and a smile rips across her face.

  “At last.”

  Chapter 26

  Roasha and Kalsha are soaring across the sky as fast as their wings will carry them. So fast that I must use magic to hold on. So fast that I can hardly breathe. The earth below us rushes by in such a dashing whirl that I cannot even make out the features of the land. We are spears of color and might.

  We reach the smoking wreck of Golrend and I can already tell that Laoren has taken Thea and gone. I want to continue the chase, but as we near the Citadel I see that half of the building has been blown away. We descend to the gaping hole in the building and I rush in. There she is.

  I disintegrate the rubble between us as Ciraa throws herself into my arms. My friend. My cousin. It has been too long. There are tears and smiles, but I do not allow myself to forget my duty.

  “What happened?” I ask, still holding her.

  “I do not know. One moment we were here, celebrating the liberation of the city, and the next something crashed into the Citadel. Someone. We woke up, found some of the soldiers dead upstairs, yet could not find Thea anywhere.”

  “She is not here,” I say, finally releasing her. “It was Laoren that attacked the Citadel. She intends to use Thea’s magic to power the Stones of the Almighty. I must go after her.”

  “Will you go alone?” she asks.

  “I will never leave her side,” Eduard says.

  “Then you must hurry,” Ciraa says, embracing me once more. “We cannot lose her.”

  “No, we cannot,” I say. “We have already lost too much.”

  “And can you stop this mad witch?” says a voice to my left.

  It cannot be. I turn and see Yunger, his face cut, but still strong and brave. For a moment I am speechless.

  “I am alive, Nevena,” he says.

  “But I watched you die. I wept for you. I mourned you.”

  “I am no sorcerer, but neither am I easy to kill.”

  He comes to me and wraps his arms around me. There are no words between us, but I know. I have been forgiven.

  “Go,” he says. “I will rally our forces here. Ciraa will ride with me and she will be as safe as you could wish.”

  I do not waste more time with words, but Eduard and I turn and mount Roasha and Kalsha. We take to the sky once more.

  “Struggle to your heart’s desire, young one,” Laoren says. “You will soon move no more. I feel fortunate you never learned to use your magic, for with your spirit it surely would have become soufflumière.”

  “You do not frighten me, Laoren,” Thea says, defiant and courageous. “I am no mere damsel. If you wish to hear a young maiden’s screams you have chosen poorly. You will not have my spirit, neither will you have my magic. And you are fortunate indeed, for I would burn from the sky had I only been given the spell.”

  “You may take such bravery and foolishness to your grave, girl. I care not. What I want you have no power to withhold from me. I will draw the magic from your bones as sure as I will reign over this putrid, simpering earth.”

  “You may wish to fly faster, witch,” says Thea. “My family comes for me. Nevena will find you and destroy you. And I do not believe that even my sister will stand for this evil. She will protect me.”

  Laoren gives a most heinous laugh.

  “Foolish girl, your sister died of my poison days ago. As for your parents, t
here was naught left of them after your sister destroyed them along with half of High Bay. Stupid, whining dog. You have no family left.”

  Corinnalwyn blows a corrosive smoke across the last two Helkar and they are peeled away until their malformed bones collapse in a pile before her. Then she collapses herself. She has just enough energy to bring down the ice wall in a brief, cold shower of water and then she falls back against the ground. Rhealwyn is the first to her.

  “My love, are you alright? What can I do?”

  “Hold me, my king, and I shall soon be fine. It is but the exhaustion of a woman who has never used such magic.”

  “We owe you our lives. I now take pride in that you never listened to me when I told you studying those spells day and night would do no good.”

  “Ah, you are wise and beautiful, husband, but alas you are never right.”

  The king and Queen smile and he holds her closer. The Braelynn gather around their fatigued Queen and give her water and their thanks. Their hearts are lighter now, freed from the terror of believing they were defenseless against attack. With her people so close around her, the Queen begins to recover much faster than she normally would, drawing on the strength of her people and the love of the king.

  Ragnarok, known among the people as Analwyn, has regained his composure. He has survived among them by feigning kindness and acting as a true Braelynn. His many years of practice do not fail him now.

  “My Queen,” he says, kneeling beside her, “Is there anything I might obtain for you? Some herb or perhaps something to eat?”

  “No, Analwyn, I am fine. You are as kind as ever, sweet friend. If you will but kneel close by I should be most satisfied.”