“Push, Angst,” Dallow encouraged.
Angst pushed, and forced, and grappled with every ounce of magic he could draw from Dulgirgraut. He leaned his left leg forward, and locked his right as though attempting to topple an invisible wall. There was no stopping the night-stone, there was so much fire surrounding it Angst struggled to find minerals he could anchor to. Angst fought, pushing so hard his entire body tensed and his back strained painfully. The night-stone slowed, but so very little.
Angst grunted with every breath and shook with exhaustion. First his lip quivered, and then his fingers. A muscle in his leg shuddered as fatigue devoured him whole Hector described this to Dallow.
“Pull back, Angst,” Dallow yelled.
An entire layer of marble surrounding Earth had chipped away, like skin fallen to expose muscle. The fine details of hair and nails were gone, the toga Earth wore was no longer recognizable; she was a thinner, roughly carved statue. A patchwork of her former self. Fire suffered in similar fashion—a lopsided shape of man, missing a bite from his head and half his torso.
Tarness dropped to the ground, shaking and covered in sweat. Victoria kneeled beside him and placed a hand on his temple.
“Tarness?” Hector asked.
“He’s burning up,” Victoria shared.
“He’s in shock, or dehydrating, or both,” Dallow said.
Angst drew magic from Dulgirgraut with great desperation. He wasn’t merely hungry or famished; he was starving for power to slow the giant fiery stone that plunged from the sky. He screamed in anger and frustration.
“This fight is done!” Fire declared.
“No!” Earth and Angst yelled simultaneously.
Earth’s left arm dropped to the ground, shattering into tiny pieces. Fire, now much smaller and thinner, redoubled his efforts. An angry crack appeared at the base of Earth’s neck, crawling up to her temple. Lava dripped from her eye like a tear as a third of her head landed on the ground with a loud thud. She pulled what remained of her stumpy hands free from Fire’s body.
“Bury yourselves, Angst, as deep as you dare,” she cried out desperately. “Now!”
Without hesitation, Angst stopped pushing the night-stone. Drawing together the last of his strength, he dug a hole in the ground beneath them, using the rubble to create a protective dome. Mounds of earth and layers of elements rose over them in an arc of protecting shield. His last view of the sky was fire. After putting Dulgirgraut behind his back, he turned around with his arms wide and attempted to tackle everyone to the ground. When they all landed, when everyone stopped squirming, Angst created the largest, thickest, strongest air shield he could while continuing to tunnel deeper, throwing piles of dirt and stone over them.
“I’m so sorry,” Angst said, grateful that at least nobody saw the tears streaming down his cheeks. “This isn’t what I wanted. I’m so sorry.”
Earth turned away from Fire, diving to cover the mound over Angst and his friends, bridging herself over them for protection. Some of the remaining gamlin disappeared into the ground for safety. The star, the giant night-stone, landed with the sound and ferocity of cataclysm and nightmare. A hot, blinding flash of light was soon followed by a circular blaze of wind and fire that destroyed everything in its path. The gamlin that remained above ground, along with the dragons flying to escape, all burned away like dry leaves in a forest fire.
Angst panicked in the smothering confines of their earthen protection. Victoria gripped his arm with thin fingers and whimpered, but he couldn’t console her. Every ounce of his concentration went to keeping the barrier up. The ground shook and their bunker heated from the blast above.
“Dallow, reinforce my air shield before we cook!” Angst said.
“It will use up too much air,” Dallow replied in concern. “We’ll run out!”
“But we will be dead before we have a chance to breathe it!” Angst yelled. “Do it now!”
Above ground, an unnatural quiet had replaced the chaotic battle. Thick ashes slowly drifted to the crater left by the night-stone. Sleet began to fall as though it was finally safe to leave clouds. The thin, broken element of Fire stood in a pile of ash and rock. Smooth blackened stones fell from his body as he continued to disgorge the minerals Earth had forced into him. He surveyed the damage, bright light shining from his smile. Everything was dead. Dragons, gamlin, Earth. All that remained was an ashen scar carved deep into Melkier.
“Do you see what you made me do, sister?” Fire said to nobody, reveling proudly in himself. “I had to kill you. I had to kill most of my children, and yours, as well as these pitiful humans...all for what?”
Fire looked about at the devastation, smiling to himself at the chaos wrought this day. No life remained and Earth was destroyed. This was indeed a good day...but then it was always a good day when everything burned.
“You have once again placed your faith in these humans, and to what avail?” Fire asked. “All that is left is this nothing that surrounds us.”
There was no reply as the world was quiet save the constant drumming patter and sizzle of sleet on hot lava. Fire nonchalantly strode over the battlefield to find half of Earth’s face. He picked it up, but it was nothing more than a statue now—the remaining eye and half a gritty mouth were unmoving.
“Goodbye, sister,” Fire said to Earth. “I’ll see you in two thousand years.”
He tossed the broken head to the ground. It rolled several times to land face up, staring vacantly at the sky. Fire looked about one last time before melting into the ground, disappearing into a thin whirlpool of lava, leaving behind darkness, and dust, and ash.
58
A shadow fell across the fake throne room as large gray Fulk’han men and their pastel-colored escorts strode into the room. The gray men eyed the few soldiers of Unsel, sneering down their tense anticipation with a sense of ownership. Rook could barely contain himself, a spring coiled so tight it could snap, or launch, without warning. Jaden had given up holding the man back, staring at Tyrell for a sign.
Tyrell gave him nothing, his fading focus on the queen as he gripped his bleeding arm. The sword master had paled and appeared too woozy, even for the blood gently leaking from his wound. Isabelle shot sidelong glares from the newly crowned princess to the gray man who now seemed in charge. Her bearing was one of impatience, and in spite of the imminent takeover, it was obvious she didn’t intend to relinquish her throne.
The Fulk’han who took lead walked to her, his shoulders held rigid with pride and his left arm covered in scars. He appeared larger than the others, with almost every bone and ridge of his exterior painted white or black. Isabelle wondered if this indicated rank, or kills. He glared at the guards standing in front of her protectively but otherwise ignored them. The leader looked the queen up and down before turning dismissively to face Alloria. He bowed his head in a gesture that was almost polite.
“The Fulk’han Empire is grateful for your assistance, Majesty,” he boomed for everyone in the hall to hear. “But the time of Unsel is now past, and you will soon join the rest of the guilty as we decide the best use for your resources.”
Jaden was surprised she didn’t flinch at the inclusion or the incrimination. Alloria quickly searched the room for help, but all eyes were cold and accusing. She ignored the glares and continued searching.
“Am I not to rule Unsel?” Alloria asked, finally meeting the leader’s gaze.
“You will manage Unsel as we incorporate your nation into our empire,” he replied proudly.
“I don’t understand,” Rook whispered. “Why does the queen remain silent?”
“She keeps staring at Alloria,” Jaden replied. “I think she’s waiting for something.”
“Who are you to make these new demands?” Alloria asked.
“I am Guldrich,” he replied. “General of Fulk’han.”
“This wasn’t the agreement,” Alloria said, taking a challenging step forward.
“The empire’s needs have changed,�
�� Guldrich said.
“What needs?” Alloria asked. “I agreed to be allies, nothing more.”
“You think we would trust your treacherous ways with leadership?” he asked. The large man beat against his bone armor twice with a balled fist to get her attention. “You are a nation of spies and destroyers. You are godkillers and don’t deserve to be called allies.”
“That’s your final word?” Alloria said coolly. Her eyes locked onto the back of the hall, and she barely suppressed a grin.
“Be quiet, child, before I make you my consort,” he said down his nose with a loud sniff.
Alloria’s full attention was on this leader. A funny grin crawled across her face, and she laughed out loud. A genuine belly laugh that made her grip her stomach. She appeared mad, or at the very least, unthreatened. The gray man looked about, confused and embarrassed, as though his very manhood had been questioned.
She caught her breath and raised a hand. “I’m sorry,” she gasped. “That was unexpected. I bed with men not freaks.”
Guldrich shook with rage, his hand clenching into a ball.
“Now, Vars!” she yelled.
“What?” the Fulk’han questioned in shock.
Vars ran into the room with platoons of soldiers, inciting war and wielding chaos. The Fulk’hans at the back of the room were shred like helpless cattle, instantly torn to pieces, unable to defend against the sheer mass of attackers. With the energy and power of a younger man, Vars sliced wildly with his great sword. The light blue head of a Fulk’han woman flew from her body, wincing as it was thrown hard against a nearby wall.
“I’ve got to get some of this!” Rook said.
Rook leaped forward, grabbing the throat of the nearest gray man with his bare hand and tearing it out. The beast dropped his polearm, desperately scratching at his missing flesh before collapsing to the stone floor. Rook threw the mess of flesh into the eyes of another gray man before picking up the polearm and skewering him.
“Me too,” Jaden agreed. “You kill those two, I get the rest.”
Jaden studied the room, identifying where every Fulk’han stood. He concentrated, reaching out with his mind. A bright orange glow surrounded his arms, making everyone nearby step back nervously. A gray man saw the glow and launched into the air. He screamed loudly as Rook’s polearm expertly drove between protruding ribs in his armor. Rook flung the dying man aside and brandished his sword.
Rook stood before Jaden protectively as the younger man continued reaching out. Three more Fulk’han took note of the scream, turning away from the approaching Unsel soldiers.
“You have to do it now!” Rook commanded.
Jaden grunted from the effort as he let loose his spell. Dozens of Fulk’han soldiers cried out. Just as Angst had slammed Jaden deep into the ground, Jaden drove the Fulk’han knee deep into the marble floor of the throne room. All of them, instantly stuck, every single Fulk’han locked in place. Jaden collapsed in exhaustion.
“Nice work,” Rook said, patting him on the shoulder. “You did it!”
“Finally...something right,” Jaden whispered, gripping his racing heart. He saw stars and breathed fast, desperately trying to avoid passing out.
“Kill them all!” Isabelle finally spoke.
“Wait,” Alloria interrupted, pointing at her ‘consort.’ “Keep him alive.”
With a nod from the queen, order was returned in blood and death. All other Fulk’han were summarily executed, and every death left a body that fell back or leaned forward grotesquely, unable to completely fall over due to Jaden’s entrapment. Within minutes, the battle was over and the Unsel throne was free from conquest. Before Isabelle could ask why Guldrich should be allowed to live, Alloria marched forward.
She lifted her dress to reveal a long, thin dagger strapped to her leg. She unsheathed it, driving it deep into the unsuspecting gray man’s side. He screamed in pain but, trapped in the floor, couldn’t defend himself. The soldiers protecting Isabelle grabbed his muscular arms to keep him from beating the young princess. She wiped the black blood covering her hand onto her adversary then spit in the large man’s face.
“You’ll die for your treachery!” Guldrich yelled.
“Vars!” Alloria called.
The large man in his bulky, decorative plate armor pushed his way through the mess of crowd and soldiers. He walked to the princess and lowered his head respectfully.
“Majesty?” he asked.
“Remove his tongue,” she commanded.
“Wait,” Isabelle yelled.
Vars immediately gripped the gray man’s jaw to pry his mouth open. He unsheathed a sick, angry dagger while wrestling the man’s tongue free with his armored hand. Without remorse, Vars shoved the dagger into the man’s mouth and carved out Guldrich’s tongue. He pulled on it roughly, cutting at a remaining string of muscle and flesh until the tongue was removed. The gray man gurgled a scream, yelling profanities nobody could understand as blackened blood poured from his mouth.
“I hope you know how to write,” Alloria said coldly. “To tell your Emperor of only one country this: you are not welcome in Unsel. His treachery, his attempt to coerce and control has failed. Just as we killed your God, we will kill each of you. From this point on Unsel is at war with Fulk’han. Brace yourselves for what you have wrought this day, because it is the end to everything you hold true and safe.”
The Fulk’han were silenced, but the room erupted. Lords and ladies, soldiers and knights, all cheered at the princess’s defiance. The corners of her broad lips curled. Finally, the reverence she had sought during the coronation. Alloria did her best to ignore the cheers while continuing to stare down the helpless man.
“Vars,” she commanded.
“Yes, Your Majesty,” he replied, standing at attention, dropping the tongue to the floor with an unceremonious splat.
“Cauterize this thing’s mouth so it doesn’t die,” she stated firmly. “Then have him escorted to Rohjek. If they haven’t been compromised, release him to their company so he can deliver my message.”
Vars bowed deeply, though his eyes were flat and cold.
“Jaden,” Alloria called out. “Please come forward.”
Rook assisted Jaden to his feet, helping the weak man through the crowd.
“Yes, Your Majesty,” Jaden said, almost whispering from exhaustion.
“Please release this Fulk’han,” she requested.
Jaden nodded and took a deep breath. Grateful there was only one, he set the gray man free. Alloria smiled in appreciation while Vars escorted the lone living Fulk’han from the makeshift throne room. She spun about and dropped to one knee before Queen Isabelle.
“Please forgive me, my queen,” Alloria pleaded. “It happened so fast, I worried for your safety.”
“The rest of my kingdom?” Isabelle asked. “How does it fare?”
“You ordered me to send all troops to defend our borders against the monsters and their sinkholes,” Alloria said quietly. “I failed to do this. When I learned of the attempted coup, I held them back and sent them to protect the city. Unsel is safe. I’m sorry for not heeding your commands.”
Isabelle stared down at the young princess and placed a thoughtful hand on the woman’s honey-brown hair. She patted it in consideration, smiling proudly.
“Now you see,” Isabelle squawked aloud, looking over the crowd. “Now you see why she is your princess. Now you see why she is my true heir. Trust her, trust this hero of Unsel, for she has saved us all. Alloria has preserved life as we know it.”
The room erupted once again in cheers and applause.
Jaden looked at Rook with a smirk as he clapped encouragingly. Rook clapped politely until he heard a loud retching. The Captain Guard was leaned over, holding onto his knees. Rook made his way to the older man quickly.
“Poison,” Tyrell whispered, sweat pouring from his forehead, “...in the blade.”
Rook helped Tyrell stand. Queen Isabelle pressed her way through the guards
and placed an arm on her champion’s shoulder. He bowed his head then looked into her eyes. She smiled warmly, acknowledging his success in battle and thanking him without words. If one were to stand close to Tyrell, closer than appropriate, as close as the queen stood, you would have almost seen him smile too.
“See him to the infirmary,” Isabelle commanded of a nearby soldier.
The queen took several steps to Maarja and Jintorich, who remained on her shoulder. She looked at the two of them, inspecting both as if deciding their fate.
Isabelle sighed deeply with both respect and resignation. “Thank you for your assistance, friends,” she said politely. “Please find comfort in your rooms. We will meet later so I can thank you more formally.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty.” Maarja nodded then turned and made her own path through the crowd. “I’m impressed,” she said to Jintorich. “You fought fiercely.”
“We make a good team,” Jintorich said proudly from her shoulder. “I can get down...”
“You may do as you choose, my friend,” Maarja said respectfully. “You are welcome to stay.”
Jaden elbowed his way to get to the queen.
“Your Majesty,” he pleaded. “Please, a moment.”
She ignored him.
“I have a message from your daughter,” he said, a little too loudly.
Isabelle stared at him coldly, her patience at an end. There had already been too much for one day—too much magic, too much fighting—and she’d had enough. Her missing daughter, the adventurer who hadn’t come home, dared send a message through a wielder?
She pulled out a finger and unleashed her onslaught on the young man. “No! No, you don’t have a message from my daughter!” she screeched in her highest voice. “There are no messages I want to hear from her! That is enough magics for one day in my court! Do you understand?”
Without waiting for a response, Isabelle stormed from the room.
Jaden swallowed hard, feeling very small and alone as the crowd dispersed. He could hear his own breathing, and a grotesque scraping sound as soldiers attempted to pry Fulk’han bodies from the floor behind him. In spite of his efforts and his desperate desire to please the princess, he had failed at the one task she had asked of him.
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