War of the Cards

by Colleen Oakes

  Her group came to a jagged halt. At the base of the stairway, two dozen Heart Cards stood in a silent line, assembled like an elaborate chessboard, their red-and-white uniforms decked with pins and medals. At the front stood Xavier Juflee, the commander of the Heart Cards, his shield clasped against one breast, a sword in his other hand. As Dinah’s fighters filled the room, the Heart Cards drew their weapons. There was a moment of stillness as both parties surveyed the scene and anticipated the coming violence.

  Juflee’s eyes widened when he saw Dinah.

  “What the hells?” he gasped. “I saw you die.”

  Several of the Heart Cards stepped backward in awe.

  Dinah stepped forward and addressed Xavier in a low voice. “Xavier. We do not come seeking violence. I come seeking my rightful throne from your king. If you step aside, each of you will be granted mercy and maintain your current position. For your own sake, surrender. Otherwise there will be much bloodshed here. Please, I’m begging you.”

  Xavier took a moment to regain his composure, his surprise at her appearance fading away before he smiled meanly at her. “I cannot do that, Princess. You return here a murderer and a traitor, and I’ll take pleasure in mounting your head for the king. That is, unless you surrender.”

  Dinah gave a sad shake of her head. She stepped backward into the protective folds of her men. Xavier raised his arm, and Dinah did the same. She let out a shout, and her fighters rushed past her, the groups melding together in seconds. The tiny room filled with the sounds of swords and screams. The two sides battled, Dinah aiding where she could. She would not be injured now, not while she was so close to the king.

  The battle raged for several minutes, until Xavier Juflee cut through his rapidly diminishing line and rushed toward her, his sword arcing through the air near her throat. In a flash, Wardley’s sword sliced in front of her and then Xavier and Wardley were dancing, their swords clinging together. They spun and leaped, moving faster than she had ever seen either of them move. Wardley kept trying to step back from the fight as Xavier engaged him, again and again. Finally, Xavier became frustrated, spitting and cursing at Wardley.

  “Why won’t you fight me, boy?”

  Wardley pushed him back before landing an ugly scratch across Xavier’s cheek. “Because you were my friend and I don’t want to kill you!” he screamed. “I don’t. But if you come near her again, I will!”

  Xavier laughed. “You couldn’t.”

  A deep growl penetrated the room as Bah-kan strolled forward.

  “I could, and I will!”

  Without warning, Bah-kan launched himself at Xavier with terrifying speed. The entire room seemed to pause as Bah-kan’s and Xavier Juflee’s swords clanged together, a sound so loud that Dinah felt it in her chest. Bah-kan brought his massive sword sweeping down toward Xavier, who narrowly avoided its blade by leaping and bouncing off the wall. With his momentum propelling him, Xavier pushed Bah-kan forward and brought his heart-studded blade against his opponent’s throat. Bah-kan answered by flinging Xavier against a wall and bringing his own blade down, just missing Xavier’s head. Xavier moved to the side just in time, and Bah-kan’s sword buried itself in the wall. With a roar, he quickly yanked it out, sending a shower of tiny pebbles over them both. Again and again, their swords met and released, and Dinah felt dizzy watching them, both so skilled, the best fighters she had ever seen, circling each other like lions.

  The fighting continued around her. Ki-ershan bested the Heart’s second-in-command with a quick slice to the belly, while one of the Cards killed three of Dinah’s best Spades. Wardley stepped backward and easily dispatched a sneaky Heart Card who was quietly moving toward Dinah.

  She smelled the blood all around her. Outside, there had been the sky and the soil, things to ground her in the fight. Here, in this tiny space, the reality of battle was so much more suffocating, so much more potent.

  Wardley severed the arm of a Heart Card before plunging his sword into the dying man’s stomach. Cheshire’s daggers found a few necks, the men staring down bewildered and confused before falling face-first onto the floor. Sir Gorrann battled with two Cards and succeeded in knocking them against each other, his blade plunging through both of their shoulders. They fell to the ground with whimpered cries for mercy. It turned out even the highest Cards could be brought low by war. Sir Gorrann, panting with effort, raised his sword above their heads before looking at Dinah.

  Dinah shook her head. “Give them the mercy they ask for,” she commanded. Sir Gorrann stepped back. She watched as her men quickly gained the advantage and dispatched the rest of the king’s guards. Many were given mercy—and some were not.

  Soon only Xavier and Bah-kan remained fighting, both spattering blood on the slick stone floor. Xavier’s head wound was bleeding; Bah-kan was oozing blood from a gash at his side. Weariness had overtaken them and their strokes became slower and more desperate. Even the wounded Cards watched in awe, each man aware that this was the best duel they would ever witness.

  Xavier looked into Bah-kan’s face. “I know you,” he hissed. “Stern Ravier, once a notorious Club but now a traitor and a Yurkei, all dressed up in feathers. Tell me, do you have little traitors at home, with some whore Yurkei wife?”

  Bah-kan landed a blow to the Knave of Hearts with the blunt pommel of his sword, knocking the man backward. Xavier’s shield scuttled across the room.

  Bah-kan shook his sword and roared. “I was born a Club, but I will die a Yurkei, full of honor and glory. And when I die, I will rise up with the cranes and shit on your grave!”

  Xavier leaped forward again, his sword raised overhead. Dinah saw the opportunity that had presented itself. Bah-kan, moving quickly now, brought the sword up through the man’s ribs. It exploded out of his back and the Knave of Hearts slumped forward onto the blade. Bah-kan stepped back and roared, his attention diverted to his own pleasure a moment too soon. Xavier, a loyal Card unto his death, saw his moment and with his last burst of energy plunged his sword through Bah-kan’s neck. They both fell to the ground, entangled in death, their blood mixing on the ground.

  “Bah-kan! No, no!” Dinah gave a scream of agony as she pushed Xavier’s body aside and cradled Bah-kan’s massive head in her hands. His eyes looked up at her in alarm and disbelief. “Oh, Bah-kan, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.”

  She gently kissed his forehead. His eyes blinked rapidly as he smiled up at her through the blood, which was all over him, and all over her. He was heavy in her arms, her great warrior, the great Club, a man who had lived—and died—twice.

  “My queen,” he mouthed, his throat gurgling. He began speaking rapid Yurkei words. His eyes blinked once before they looked blankly up at the ceiling, his chest rising no more. Dinah bent her head over his, her cheek resting on his still face. There was silence in the hall, even from the Cards whose lives had been spared. Tears dripped off her chin, smearing the white paint that covered Bah-kan’s face. She wiped them away.

  “He will have a warrior’s funeral. We’ll bury him in Hu-Yuhar, his true home.” She turned to the Cards who lay wounded near Sir Gorrann’s feet. She kicked one in the side, and he grunted in pain before she curled her fingers around his chin. Her black eyes bore into his. “You will keep this body safe and unblemished, do you understand me? If anything happens to him, I will come for you, and my mercy will be just a memory.”

  The two men stared up at Dinah, their faces full of terror. They nodded. “Yes, my queen.”

  Nine

  Dinah took a deep breath, tearing her eyes away from Bah-kan’s still form to look at the men who surrounded her: Cheshire, Wardley, Sir Gorrann, Ki-ershan. Her eyes met Sir Gorrann’s. They mirrored hers at the moment: the hunger for vengeance, the promise of it so close at last. She was weary with grief, and her hands shook from emotion and exhaustion. She knew what must be done, what must be said. It filled her with fear, but the anger inside her held down her doubts, the taste of it like metal between her teeth. She turned to the
men.

  “I alone will fight the king. I will not have anyone else die for me today. It must be me. Otherwise I could lose my claim to the throne. Do you understand?”

  Wardley stepped forward and grabbed her roughly, his hands squeezing her shoulder blades together. “Dinah, I will not let him kill you.”

  “People will not respect a leader who sends others to do her bidding. Isn’t this why I fought in the battle in the first place? I will show all those people in there”—she pointed her sword toward the door—“that I am not afraid of a king who has worn out his rule.”

  “Dinah . . .” Wardley’s eyes filled with tears. “I can’t lose you today. Not now. We’ve come so far.”

  She gave him a small smile and reached up to trace his cheek. “Wardley . . .” Her fingers left his face to touch the bare spot upon her head where her crown normally sat. “Obey me.”

  Wardley dropped his head, hands clenched at his sides.

  Dinah walked forward and entered the keep, her men following behind.

  Inside the fortified towers above the Great Hall was a sparsely decorated room, stocked for a siege. Crates of food and weapons leaned against the walls, which were lined with Heart Cards and dozens of men from noble houses. The king’s council stood around a raised platform that held a makeshift throne. Atop it sat the King of Hearts. He had aged greatly in the year since Dinah had seen him. His shoulder-length blond hair was streaked with patchy gray. The king’s massive body, once stout and sturdy, had grown soft and portly. His arms remained huge and veiny, though, and Dinah could see muscles bulging beneath his armor. His face was blotchy and red, his blue eyes bloodshot and narrowed.

  The King of Hearts clutched his Heartsword against his chest and barely raised his chin when Dinah and her men came through the door. She immediately understood that this was part of a performance, in which she had a starring role. He would not stand for her presence, a sign that she wasn’t the queen in his eyes. To him, she was no more than a commoner. The crowd parted silently as Dinah stepped toward the platform.

  The king gave her a condescending smile. “I thought I heard my wicked daughter’s voice. And here I thought you were dead. Instead I see you’ve come to steal my crown, you ungrateful wretch.”

  Dinah forced herself to look straight into his face, though her legs gave a shake underneath her. The King of Hearts—her father, or so she had believed—could always scare her, destroy her. Not today. Today she would not let him pull her apart from the inside out and turn every good thing to dust. Dinah struggled to keep her confidence, her heart pounding so loudly she feared the entire room could hear.

  “Not steal. I’ve come to claim the throne that is mine by birth. My mother was Queen Davianna, and so the crown should rightfully pass to me instead of Vittiore, who has no claim on the throne. I come here to repair the land that you have broken, to reap justice for all the innocents that you have murdered or imprisoned, and to free the Yurkei people from your greedy oppression.”

  Fury passed over the king’s face and he stood, his Heartsword glinting in the late-afternoon light. His voice rose to a roar. “You shall not speak treason to me in my own palace! You weak, pathetic girl. From the moment you were born, you disgusted me, with your cries and your neediness. You are not my daughter, I know it in my bones. You, with your black hair, are your mother’s bastard child! Proof that she was as much of a whore as I suspected! No child of mine would turn against me.”

  “No?” screamed Dinah, losing control quickly. “What about your son? Did he turn against you? Charles was your son! He was innocent!”

  The king erupted in anger, a vein throbbing in his forehead. “You will not speak his name, you murderous bitch!” He motioned to the Heart Cards. “Kill them all. Each one. Off with their heads!”

  The Cards took a hesitant step toward Dinah’s men. Sir Gorrann raised his sword just as a terrible sound tore through the room, causing everyone to pause. Everyone turned toward the windows of the keep as the horrific reverberation of iron bending filled the room. Walls shook as heavy stones crashed to the ground. Dinah’s army had opened the gates on the north side. From the courtyard below came the terrified screams of women and children, followed by the loud whooping of the Yurkei and the thundering of hooves. Mundoo’s large Yurkei army was now flooding inside the walls.

  At the sound of the gates falling, the king’s face went pale. He had lost. Dinah’s mind raced; she needed to address the people, and quickly, or it would all descend into chaos and even more violence. She lowered her voice as she stared at the king.

  “It’s over. Our armies have broken down your walls. In an hour’s time we will take all of Wonderland Palace. I beg of you, surrender and save the men who defend you here. Their lives are still worth something to me.”

  “You speak like a queen,” answered the king. “But you will die a traitor, a worthless wench, a motherless orphan, a murderer, a girl I never wished to call daughter.”

  “That’s because she isn’t your daughter.”

  Cheshire stepped forward.

  The king’s face burned as he looked at Cheshire, his most trusted adviser and companion. “You!”

  Cheshire brushed off the king’s anger as if it were nothing more than a drop of rain. The king pointed at him.

  “You treacherous, slimy leech. Your speech is poison to any who hear it! You served me loyally for almost twenty years and then you desert me for her? For this simpering creature?” The king began laughing hysterically. “I’ll wipe off her blood from my Heartsword on your ribs.”

  Cheshire laughed casually. “Are you so dim that you never suspected she was my daughter? Can’t you see her? The dark hair, the dark eyes, her sharp mind. She certainly didn’t get that from you. Davianna never loved you. Tell me, did she even have reason to try? You, with your whores and your pointless wars, you never gave her a minute of your day.” A shadow crossed over Cheshire’s face, and his pointed smile turned angry. “I loved her. Physically and mentally, she was mine. She was always mine. I watched as you killed her from neglect and abuse. Had you embraced our daughter, there wouldn’t be an army breaking down your walls. But you couldn’t, because you are a prideful, lustful man who needs to possess everything he sees. You are not the ruler these people deserve, but Dinah is. She is the queen they will love for a hundred years, and as our family rises, your name will be wiped from this kingdom like dust from a mirror.”

  There came a roaring sound, and Dinah realized a great horde was coming up the stairs behind them. Were they trapped, caught between two enemies? She turned as dozens of Yurkei swarmed up through the doors of the keep. A handful of wooden arrows flew into the room and buried themselves in the exposed necks of a few Heart Cards. They fell face-first onto the floor.

  “Stop!” shouted Dinah. The Yurkei at the top of the stairs hesitated.

  “Surrender,” Dinah shouted at the king, aware that she longed greatly for the lives of everyone gathered in the room to be spared. She spread her hands. “Please gods, surrender! What are you doing?”

  The king gave her a raw smile and curled his finger toward her. Dinah paused, unsure what to do. Then, like a coiled snake, he leaped at her, his Heartsword ripping through the air. Dinah leaned back just in time, and the blade of the sword cut deep into her chin. She felt the warm trickle of blood down her neck. It’s happening, she thought.

  She had time to think no more. Her sword rose up and met his Heartsword in midair. The sharp, piercing clang seemed to freeze everyone in the room. Again and again their swords met, his Heartsword flashing so rapidly that Dinah quickly focused only on meeting his blows, not getting in any of her own. He nicked the upper part of her arm, twice. She winced as her blood spattered on the floor around her.

  The king raised his sword and smiled. “I might take you piece by piece, little girl.”

  Dinah held her sword steady and thought of Bah-kan, of the things he had taught her, of the things that Sir Gorrann and Wardley had taught her. Tak
ing a deep breath, she let her mind swirl like a furious wind, ripping through every piece of knowledge that she had. She swiped wide and missed. She swung again and her blade skimmed past his neck, pulling her off balance. The King of Hearts, seeing his opportunity, reached out and grabbed Dinah’s hair, bringing his Heartsword up to meet her neck. As Dinah spun herself away from his grip, she managed to swing one of her legs around in a forceful kick, hitting his chest with all her strength. The king fell back a few feet, surprised and gasping for air. It was enough. She advanced and swung her sword at his heart, catching him hard on the ribs.

  In her haste, Dinah had swung with more force than necessary, and her sword bounced off his armor and skittered across the floor. She crawled after it, narrowly avoiding the wide, swinging arcs made by the enraged king. His Heartsword landed blows on either side of her, one after another, as she bobbed and weaved on the floor. Wardley, his face terrified and furious, kicked her sword toward her. Dinah grabbed the blade and raised it above her head.

  The king was everywhere around her now, swinging relentlessly, leaving Dinah barely able to protect herself. But his unnecessarily large strokes left him vulnerable. Dinah was able to plow her foot into his leg, smashing part of his knee with her heavy boot. He howled in pain, giving Dinah enough time to get up off the floor. His eyes met hers as he stood up, limping now, more furious than ever. They were both breathing heavily, and those around them watched in awed silence.

  Dinah was aware, from a spring deep in her mind, that she was outmatched by the king. He was a better fighter, a better swordsman. She had hoped that the years of drinking and womanizing had slowed his arm, but they had not. Realistically, she had no prayer of beating him, only holding him off until she was too exhausted to fight any longer. This was what Wardley had been trying to tell her. She would not win.