by Emma Hamm
Bymere was suited for fighting in the desert. They knew how to find water when there was none. They knew how to hit an enemy from hundreds of yards away with a single arrow. But they didn’t know how to fight in close quarters with trees between them and their enemies.
They were marching into a slaughter.
He raced through the halls, clapping shoulders as he went and advising men to return to their quarters. There was no reason for this. Some misunderstanding must have caused this, but he couldn’t imagine it was the sultan himself who had ordered this.
Solomon knew what this would do to the kingdom. He’d be breaking more than just a promise. He would be taking over the kingdom once and for all.
He’d kill the man himself if he thought to step into Nadir’s shoes permanently.
Sliding across the hall where the sultan’s quarters were, Raheem skidded to a halt when he saw who stood in the center of the sultan’s bedroom.
“Saafiya,” he growled. “I thought they’d locked you up somewhere nice and dark.”
“No, my dear.” She turned and smiled. The crimson gown she wore poured over her body, shifting with her movements and the embroidered gold thread caught in the light. “I thought you were dead.”
“Apparently, I’m a hard man to kill.”
She shrugged a delicate shoulder. “No one is invincible, General. I hear congratulations are in order. You’ve managed to win yourself a place back in the great chess game.”
“This isn’t a game. This is people’s lives.”
A shadow crossed over her expression and he realized she knew that. She knew this was her people’s lives that she played with, and it didn’t matter to her.
He lunged forward, only to be caught at the shoulder by strong hands.
“Peace, General.” Solomon's voice was pitched low. “There is much for us to talk about.”
“I’d kill you myself if I thought I could get away with it,” he snarled.
Saafiya chuckled and clapped her hands. “Ah, Raheem. I wondered how long it would take you to hate him as we all do. Foolish man, you had so much hopes for the boy king who would always fall back into my hands.”
Solomon’s spine stiffened. Raheem didn’t miss that, but the man still remained silent with his back turned to the first wife.
He’d take care of it then. This viper didn’t need to be out of her cage for too long. It only meant the rest of them were in danger.
Raheem hooked his chin toward the door. “Back to your cage, woman. I’ll rattle the bars if I need you again.”
She sauntered by him, waggling her fingers. “Sultan, my love. If you have need of me again, you know where to find me.”
Gods, he hoped Solomon hadn’t slept with her. That woman must have been dipped in gold the way she captured the attention of so many men. He didn’t understand the allure. Raheem would sooner cut off an arm than touch that one. Saafiya was the kind of woman to poison herself if it meant getting what she wanted in the end.
When the door closed behind her, Solomon let out a breath. “I suddenly understand why my brother had such a difficult time ruling this place.”
“She’s not even the worst of them.”
“I’m well aware of that.”
The false sultan stepped away and headed toward the desk. He lifted a bottle of fine whiskey out of it, then saluted Raheem. “I apologize, to both you and to the Sultan of Bymere. I thought this would be a much easier mission than it was.”
“Was?” Raheem repeated.
“The advisors have made it very clear to me that if I do not support their movements to attack Wildewyn, then they will have me removed from the throne.”
Raheem shook his head when offered a glass of whiskey. “They cannot do that. You are the one with royal blood.”
“Apparently they can.” Solomon drained the first glass and placed it on the table. He braced his arms on the worn wood. “They have some false proof that Nadir is not the sultan’s son.”
“Ridiculous,” Raheem barked with laughter. “It’s not possible. He looks more like his father than Hakim did, and that boy was a full-blooded royal.”
“Papers can be forged. People can be paid to agree with their statements and then where would we be? Everything we’ve done, all the things we’ve worked for, will be wiped off this world immediately. I cannot let that happen.”
All the anger simmering in Raheem’s chest disappeared. His knees grew weak, and he sank into a chair beside the desk quietly. “Then what now?”
Solomon mirrored his actions and took off the wrap on his face. Every loop revealed more and more of the man’s exhaustion. “War.”
Gods, it sounded terrible. They were taking the lives of so many men and women in their hands and sending them to their death. For what? The hopes that Nadir would return some kind of changed man? That he would be able to come home and…
Raheem moved forward and placed his head in his hands. “We’re all doomed, aren’t we?”
“There’s still a chance the true sultan can change this.”
“How?” The Qatal warrior would have to explain, because Raheem saw nothing more than danger in this place. Death and blood already scented the air. The Earthen folk would destroy the army and then they would move forward with their march.
Bymere would disappear under the weight of a world which no longer saw fit for the people who floundered under the rule of misguided fools.
Solomon cleared his throat. “I haven't been entirely truthful with you. The leader of the Alqatara, she’s more interested in Nadir because he’s a dragon than anything else.”
“What does she want with that beast?”
“In the old legends, dragons could fly into battle and end it immediately. But… that’s not what she wants.”
Raheem watched as the man’s eyes darted to the side. He was clearly uncomfortable with the conversation. But why?
Narrowing his eyes, he watched as Solomon continued to fidget. Finally, Raheem pressed him. “What does she want with Nadir?”
His halting words sent a chill down Raheem’s spine.
“In the ancient legends, humans worshipped dragons as gods. It is her belief that if we bring back all the old ways, that the humans will stop fighting and look to the Beastkin for all their needs.”
“She wants to make him… what? A legend? A myth?” he asked, the words falling from his lips like stones. They dropped into his lap and weighed him down into the floor.
“She wants to make him divine.”
They’d all lost their minds. That was the only thing Raheem could think. Completely mad. There was no way to make a man a god. Nadir was nothing more than a boy, a child who had yet to learn who or what he wanted to be.
“I was too late,” he muttered. “I should have been here only a week sooner, and I might have stopped you all from this madness.”
“It’s not madness. This would work.” Solomon leaned forward, his eyes gleaming brightly. “I know it seems insane and that you might not believe me when I say this, but the leader of the Alqatara has weighed all the possibilities. She knows this is the only way to save the kingdom from itself.”
“You’ve all turned into zealots. You want more than just the kingdom, more than the empire itself. A god?” He shook his head. “He’s just a boy.”
“He’s more than a boy, now. Dragons shouldn’t exist anymore, but they do. Haven’t you ever wondered why they’ve never died out? And now there are two people out there capable of so much power, you and I can’t even fathom what they can do.”
“No,” Raheem said, swallowing hard. “I never wondered what he could do. I always just looked at him as a child, a lonely child who wanted a family. You were supposed to give him a family, a mother and a brother who could show him what good there is in the world. All you’ve done is make him a monster.”
The sadness in Solomon's gaze was all Raheem needed to see. It didn’t matter that Nadir was a person. It hardly mattered that he existed at all. Th
e Alqatara meant to see him become something far more than the Sultan of Bymere.
This would end poorly.
He waited until the other man cleared his throat and pushed a tumbler of whiskey toward him.
“Drink up, General,” Solomon said. “As little as we both wish to see it happen, war is coming. And I need you with our men.”
Raheem drank deeply of the amber liquid and stared up at the ceiling for a moment. If there were gods, he sent a prayer that they assist him. He would need all the help he could get to stay alive in this one.
----
They’d moved the army with remarkable speed, but he supposed that was understandable when it was a group of men who wanted nothing more than bloodshed. Raheem sat on his horse at the End of the World. The giant cliff dropped off into open air below them.
Green spread out in front of him. Hadn’t he just been here? He’d swear only moments ago he’d been climbing up this mountain in secret, hoping to find the boy king who he’d come to care very much about.
Now, they were lowering the army down into the lush greenery beyond. An elephant beside him trumpeted its distress. They’d have to tie the beast down to the lift just to make sure it didn’t tumble off the side of the mountain.
He’d argued not to bring them. They wouldn’t do well in the forests. He knew what was beyond this swamp. The underbrush grew so dense even a child had a hard time slipping through it.
Abdul had disagreed. He’d argued that Raheem couldn’t be trusted since he’d run away with the one person who had destroyed the city. That they couldn’t take his word for more than a grain of salt because, of course, he could still be working with Sigrid. What if he lied? What if he brought them to certain death?
If he could have, Raheem would have strangled the man once and for all. Let the vipers nest burn for all he cared. The advisors were finished in this kingdom the moment Nadir returned.
Raheem would rot in the cells of the palace for the rest of his life if the boy would just let him slit their throats. He could do it in their sleep and no one would be the wiser.
Another horse joined his. The red coat shuddered with the beast’s anticipation of a fight. Everyone knew the moment they touched the ground, the Earthen folk would be prepared for them.
“General,” Solomon said, his eyes staring down at the land beyond. “What awaits us?”
“Death.”
“Surely our soldiers have been trained better than that. What can we expect as we descend? Will the Earthen folk’s armies be prepared for us? Give me more information than your distrust for how we have chosen to go about this, General.”
Raheem blew out a breath. The man wanted him to reassure him? Now? There weren’t any reassurances to be had.
He pointed at the trees beyond. “Wildewyn always has defenses watching the walls. Considering how long it takes us to get down into their kingdom, there will already be people waiting for us. They favor bows and they favor hiding. We won’t be able to see them. Likely won’t even hear the arrows as they fly through the trees for our throats.”
“Shields then.”
“They’ll find a way through them. There’s a reason we haven’t attacked Wildewyn on their own soil in centuries. They know how to use their kingdom to their advantage.”
At least Solomon looked discomforted. Raheem had been convinced the man didn’t know the difference between battle tactics and throwing themselves off a cliff.
The false sultan tightened his grip on the reins in his hand. “I’ve trained my entire life as one of the Qatal. I know how to fight better than any man here, likely better than most. But this?” He shook his head. “I don’t know how to prepare for this.”
“There isn’t a way to prepare to fight on soil you’ve never stepped foot on before. We can only hope our men survive the first battle.”
“I didn’t give any of you enough credit,” once again, the sultan said the words. “These people… there’s something dark in the shadows. As if people are constantly listening to everything you do and are trying to twist the words in a way that suits them better.”
“Welcome to life in the palace.” Raheem clapped him on the shoulder and yanked his horse toward the first lift. “It won’t get any better. All you commoners think the royals are languishing in their beds of roses waiting for the next time they can make you angry. The truth is, they’ve got it just as bad. Only in other ways.”
He didn’t wait for the other man to reply. Truthfully, he didn’t care what the assassin had to say. There was too much happening now in his own home to care what the Alqatara thought. They were a band of assassins who had their heads buried so deep in the sand they wouldn’t see war coming for them if they tried.
And Raheem? He was the general of this army. He’d trained most of these men himself, and he intended to ensure as many of them lived as possible. If that meant taking arrows for them, then he would.
“Hold!” he shouted at one of the lifts. The men paused, eyeing him with equal parts awe and anger as he guided his own horse onto the rickety wood.
“General?” one of the soldiers asked. He was little more than a boy really. Just barely growing hair on his chin and with wide, frightened eyes. “Should you be coming with us?”
“I don’t believe in a first wave that’s only meant to feed the ground with blood. We’ll fight boys, but we’re going to do it the smart way.”
The reins in his hands creaked. The horse beneath him shuddered, knowing what was going to happen and afraid of what would come. Raheem had ridden this horse into many a battle. He knew it wouldn’t shy away at the last second. But he feared he might lose it either way.
He leaned down and patted a hand to the beast’s neck. “Easy,” he murmured. “Soon, my friend.”
The touch of war laid upon his shoulders as if an old friend had leaned down and grasped him. He knew what this felt like. The aching wait for the moment when the battle would begin. He saw it in the faces of the other men.
Some men felt the fear more than the anticipation. Those who hadn’t been in battle before would wonder what was going to happen to them. Would they die? Would they be wounded and forced to live a life where there was nothing for them left other than a bed and a cane?
Others, mostly those who had lived this before, knew what to expect. They understood the blood and the pain were only part of the thrill. War had a way of sinking into a man’s bones. Forced to find ways to keep themselves alive, they would do anything it took to see their families the next days. These were the soldiers he wanted with him.
The young man who had spoken to him stood at the very edge of the lift. His knee bounced as he held onto the rope and watched the ground approach.
“First time?” Raheem asked, his eyes still on the forests beyond.
“Aye, sir.”
“How old are you, boy?”
“Eighteen summers. I’ve been training my whole life though.”
Raheem didn’t care if he’d been training. A farmer could step onto a war zone and be just as prepared as the young man who didn’t know what the slaughter would be like. He almost pitied the boy, knowing there was only sadness here for him.
A rustling in the trees beyond wasn’t simply the wind. There were men there, he was certain of it. He could almost feel their eyes and the hardened tips of their arrows. This wouldn’t be an easy fight. In fact, he’d say it would be the most difficult battle the army had to face. There were only so many of them.
“Keep your eyes on the trees,” he muttered to the men. “That’s where they’re hiding, and that’s where the attack will come from.”
“How do we stop their arrows?” the boy next to him asked.
“You don’t. If you’re hit, take your sword and snap the end off. It’s something the others can grab onto and you don’t want that. Let the arrow stay inside you for the battle. We’ll take them out at the end.”
The boy gulped, and his face reflected a fear Raheem hadn’t felt in a very long
time.
The lift hit the ground and the very first whistle of an arrow flew through the air. He watched it come, old soldier’s eyes knowing exactly where it was going. He was the only man on a horse. Of course they would know he was more important than the others.
Raheem didn’t flinch away from the pain. He let the arrow strike him in the shoulder.
Not a muscle on him reacted to the pain. Instead, he reached up, snapped the shaft as he’d told the others to do, and dropped the arrow onto the ground.
“Soldiers of Bymere!” he shouted, lifting his scimitar above his head. “Attack!”
24
Camilla
Her wings shook. Her vision had already skewed to the side a few hours ago, but she couldn’t stop flying. She’d circled the mountain where they’d thought the ancients were a few times. Nothing is there to suggest there was a hidden place where Beastkin lived.
She didn’t know what to do until she saw the pillar of smoke. There shouldn’t have been a fire this time of year. Winter was already covering the mountain peaks with snow. The runoff should have been enough to keep the wetlands so wet a fire wouldn’t start.
Then it dawned on her. Hallmar had said the Bymerians were coming. Surely, he didn’t mean this soon, had he?
She’d taken a detour that exact moment. Sigrid could wait a little longer. The rest of them could wait for her when there was clearly something happening in the middle of Wildewyn. They needed her.
Unfortunately, the moment she reached the fires, she didn’t know what to do.
Great swaths of land had fallen under the hungry flame. Bonfires were piled as far as the eye could see over the swampland. They dotted nearly every patch of land that wasn’t swallowed by the floods of winter. Bodies burned upon them.
Bymerian soldiers were gathering their own men and those of the Earthen folk, stripping them down for whatever they could use, and then tossing them atop the pyre. A few of the Earthen folk were still alive. She could hear them groaning and then the angered shouts as the flames consumed them.