by May Sage
“No, by all means, be my guest.”
Kai punched Armand, who didn’t stop smirking.
“I’m quite happy to sign this acknowledgement of your domain, of course. Technically, this land didn’t exist until last month, anyway.”
Eira had left the wards down, and lifted those on her city, too. It turned out, the chain of mountains he’d never fully explored were larger than Jereena and Ferren put together, almost three quarter of the size of Alenia.
Now she’d stopped freezing everything, they were an explotable land, too. They could plan, and herd their animals.
If they had still less than four hundred subjects, Kai wouldn’t have let Fyn and Eira convince him to rebuild his kingdom, but other elves had made it within days of the attack on their village.
It turns out, by binding him to her, Eira had claimed his people, too. No human could hope to retain any hold over the subjects of a god.
Well, two gods. It was difficult to get used to the idea, but it seemed he was now one, too.
“So, how are you dealing with all that diety shit?” Aiden asked him. “The other day, I got my guard to break my shoulder to see how long it took to heal. Five freaking minutes.”
“Yeah, dear Eira didn’t bother to mention that fact, until her friend threw me right down a precipice, for a laugh.”
Some day, he was going to get his revenge, and Persephone would beg for mercy.
“Shit. That didn’t kill you either?”
“Only beheading works,” Eira clarified. “And some of us can reform a head; it’s best to burn the remains. Unless you deal with a fire-whelding fiend. Then, you’ve probably just help him heal quicker.”
The two guys were smiling from ear to ear.
“Wanna crash a car and see who comes out first?”
Eira rolled her eyes.
“Boys,” Belle summarized. “Anyway, what’s the next stop, Alenia?”
“We considered it, but I thought of starting with Denker, actually. We heard something about a conflict between Alenia and the Woodlands; the de Luzes might have their hands full.”
“Yes,” Aiden nodded, his face instantly somber. “The Woodland Queen has been accused of murdering the rightful heir to the throne by a huntsman, before he mysteriously disappeared. Alenia demands an investigation, and she’s dragging her heels. There’s a story there.”
Twelve months ago,
The Woodlands
Virtue, understanding and patience were all well and good, but sometimes a girl just needed a break.
Blanche ran out of the door right after her twelve hour shift, without even bothering to get out of the sweaty clothes. She needed fresh air, freedom; but more than anything, she needed control right now, and that was what the forest at the foot of Nordeen Castle represented for her.
If Queen Ilda had any idea, she would have each tree plucked out to ensure she was left no respite – and no power.
Blanche didn’t stop until she’d reached the river, a good mile into the forest; some Woodlanders might venture out – they were, after all, a country of huntsmen and foragers – but those who would weren’t loyal to Queen Ilda. Her pawns knew better than to try and enter Blanche’s domain.
In the rest of the continent, people might have forgotten or stopped believing in the tales, but the Woodlands was a small country, and their rulers had always been generous with their magic.
Each year, there was a festival where the royal family had given their thanks to nature, a pageant affair involving barefoot dances and other embarrassing stuff; their magic had shined through for all to see, pouring into their lands.
That was the secret to the Woodlands’ wealth: their farms were incomparable, because their air, their lands, their waters were purer than any other kingdom in the whole of Gaia.
Needless to say, things had changed over the last dozen years. Oh, there had been such a festival, but in private, and Blanche had been forced to perform it, completely alone.
Guess what, dearest stepmother? It doesn’t work.
Nature knew she was suffering, and it wasn’t happy about it.
Their country was slowly loosing the reputation it had built over the course of three thousand years and each passing season, Blanche knew what it might cost her.
Idla would realize that she was useless to her, soon.
As soon as she did, she was dead.
Don’t be silly, little dryad. You won’t go down without a fight.
Blanche did realize that hearing voices wasn’t what one would call a sign of psychological wellbeing, but she wasn’t crazy: trees genuinely could speak. To her, in any case.
“I’ll fight,” she acknowledged.
But there was a very good chance that she would lose.
Her dad had been a powerful Wood, his voice could genuinely make the earth quake a little, when he’d been pissed off. He’d also been a great man, profoundly in love with Blanche’s mother, but one winter changed it all.
Her mother died, so mysteriously everyone had been talking about poisoning, and within weeks – weeks – one of the nurses who had seen to her care was paving her way, first into the King’s bed, then to his throne.
He’d become a mere shadow of his former self, and then, he’d disappeared, without leaving any sort of trace.
Blanche knew magic, she’d been raised to comprehend it: there was no doubt in her mind that her step mother wielded it.
And unbiasedly, she had to admit that Ilda was much more powerful than she’d ever be.
So yes, she would fight; no creature on earth would relinquish to death before its time.
But she also knew she’d lose.
Certainly. If you wish to lose, you shall.
She tuned the buggers out; what did they know? They were trees, for crying it out loud.
In need of a good workout, despite her fatigue, Blanche removed her disgusting dress and jumped head first into the freezing River Reine, warming up with each stroke.
She didn’t last long; perhaps fifteen minutes, but she’d felt refreshed, relaxed by the time she made it back to the banks.
For a minute, that is. Then, she stopped grabbed her dress from the floor, and lifted her head, to come face to face with the hunkiest man she’d ever heard of, encountered or dreamt about.
He was gigantic, and seemed larger still, as he sat at the back of a low, massive bike. He had light brown hair, cropped short, a dusk of hair around a strong chin, a delightful mouth – the bottom lip was plumper, begging to be tasted – and his nose was perfect; the most remarkable feature were the eyes, though. They weren’t normal kinda “yeah, I have two.” Oh, no. These were I’m seeing right into your panties kinda eyes.
Useless, right now, though: she was entirely naked.
Blanche did the only thing anyone in her shoes would have done: she yelled and ran for it, shooting straight through the woods.
The end
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1
Duty
Calden
Calden somehow managed to prevent himself from throwing up when he saw the girls. They were little more than children. The agonizing sounds coming from the imperial chamber perfectly illustrated the reason why each and every one of the fourteen females before him was soiled, bruised, and terrified of him.
He looked just like their abuser.
“How many has he called?”
His tone was cold, detached. Such was the way of their race. They never made snap decisions or jumped to conclusions, it went against everything they were taught; Klints measured probable outcomes to every action, using facts, stats and logic.
Calden was a great believer in this process. He needed to remind himself of that, as his fist itched to collid
e with something solid; anything would do.
“All of them,” Jaycn replied with an uncharacteristic scowl. “Every girl of breeding age in the city.”
The nausea grew worse, yet. This wasn't what their invasion had been about.
The Klints were far superior to the human race in every possible way, which was the reason why they'd left them alone, when they'd first heard of the sentient Earth inhabitants who looked so similar to them; however the most recent researches and experiments had proven that they needed them now.
Or at least, they needed their females.
The Klints had stopped primitively bearing their youth over two millenniums ago; children were engineered, to create the perfect specimens. At the turn of the previous millennium, they'd failed to see the point of developing female reproduction systems – uteruses had become a useless hindrance to women.
However, the reproduction centers had failed to create sane, healthy children for over two generations; they either died before reaching maturity, or worse yet: they turned rogue, insane – whatever they called it. It wasn't pretty.
Then, someone had talked about attempting to inseminate a human, and the rest was history.
Well, not quite; the war following the refusal of the human race to relinquish a hundred breeders a year was too raw in Calden’s mind to be called that, yet.
“He’s managed to impregnate all those girls?”
“Not exactly. From what we can tell of those who aren't resisting medical treatment, he isn't… Impregnating them all.”
Strangely, Calden was relieved, rather than irritated. At least, not all of them would be likely to carry his half-siblings.
He lifted his left hand and wordlessly, Jaycn thrust his sword into his grasp.
It hadn't been his plan; he would have preferred to spend a century or two perfecting his knowledge of the world, before taking on the responsibility.
But it seemed that there was going to be a new Emperor by nightfall.
•
Five years later.
Lena
Lena wasn't stupid, so when the officials came for her, she did what any smart, sensible girl would have: she ran for it.
She was quite good at that; while she perhaps lacked practice now, no one raised by Michael Ashford would ever enter a building without considering the potential emergency exits.
Besides, she’d survived two years at the Imperial Academy. Such a feat wouldn’t have been accomplished without daydreaming about every possible way of breaking out on a daily basis. The professors were that boring. Hot, like most Klints, but then, they opened their mouths.
When the three officials in their immaculate imperial uniforms entered the classroom and announced they – and their various weapons – wished to speak to her, she went for the window. It was that or the back door, and she suspected the three large Suckers might have more issues dangling down drainage pipes than running through corridors.
She skillfully glided down and jumped when she reached the first floor; the fall hurt her knees and joints, but as the adrenaline had kicked in, she managed to ignore it and force her limbs to move, fast.
From there, it was a walk in the park.
Well, not technically; San Francisco was anything but a park, these days. Lena passed the quiet, clean streets of the privileged A Zone – in other words, the homes of various high-ranking Klints – as quickly as possible, taking every shortcut to get to the busy, messy, foggy market.
There. She was safe now. There was no way they'd ever find one lone girl in this mess. Well, as long as she managed to blend in.
The market had taken over what she'd called the city center, in her teens. To say that things had changed was a slight understatement.
While fashion was still available to those who could afford it, behind the closed, guarded doors of the Imperial Malls, there were no high end boutiques in these streets; things had gone back to the basics for the common populace.
On her left, there were the butchers, milkmen and fishermen, the artisans were on her right and the produce, higher up the street, closer to the Mall – they'd been allowed that place of choice because while they displayed their goods in front of their doors like anyone else, fruit and veggies didn't stink as much as raw meat, and weren't as noisy as shoemakers; the Suckers wouldn't want their sensitive senses to be accosted by such unpleasantness when they came down to restock their wardrobes, after all. Assholes.
Lena was on a tight budget, but she headed straight to her right, towards Donny’s.
The shop mostly sold second hand and handmade items, but amongst the many cast-offs, she'd spotted something a while back. It was in the sparse “new” section, and still had tags which revealed it used to be seventy-five dollars – practically twice her monthly food allowance. Now, it was fifteen dollars.
“I'm taking that.”
Lena pressed her finger against the digital cash register, which flashed blue, indicating that the credit had been approved.
She couldn't afford it, but she needed to change, she was too recognizable right now. As a purchase had to be made, she didn't see the point in going for a cheaper outfit she would have no use for after today. In for a penny, in for a pound, as the Brits said.
“I need to get changed. Is the back free?”
The old shop-owner took her in, and she must have read her accurately, because she looked out the window, towards the street.
She took a step back, mouth open. No need to ask what she'd seen.
The old woman silently pointed towards a door, before thrusting a bundle of fabric in Lena’s hand, squeezing her fingers in show of support.
Lena didn’t waste an instant, shedding her beige student uniform, replacing it by a pair of skintight exercise trousers and a running jacket.
It was the good stuff, no doubt about that. Despite the cool air, she felt perfectly comfortable – not warm, nor cold.
The bundle of cloth turned out to be a hat. Good call. She gathered her red hair and stuffed it under the black wool, before leaving through the staff entrance behind the shop.
Twenty minutes later, she was five miles away from the place where her financial transaction could be recorded; she might have been quicker, if she could have afforded some running shoes, but in her flat ballerinas, it was as far as she could go without giving herself blisters.
Lena winced. Scratch that. More blisters. She already had a couple, at least.
She knew she couldn't hide forever; she had exams in two weeks, and she couldn't miss them. Not after everything she'd given up to get an education.
But surrendering now, while being on low ground, unaware of what the Klints were after, wasn't in her nature; she'd figure out what they wanted with her before deciding on the best course of action.
Lena knew she wasn't really in trouble; whatever it was, anyway, she hadn't done it. Her life was that uneventful, these days.
But they could have wanted her because of her father.
After considering her options, she headed towards the closest Dissenter outpost she knew of, and sent a simple message to their leadership.
Help.