by J. A. Comley
“How … why would any one in their right mind ever join that power-crazy psychopath willingly!” Medara suddenly vented at no one in particular, tiredness loosening her usual control.
“A fearful person can hardly be said to be in their right mind,” King Hypaeon murmured, stilling his High Commander's rage.
“Forgive me, King Eldos,” General Okano interjected, “but the men and women you speak of are traitors, whatever their reasons or frame of mind. How much do these men and women know? How many of your secrets and plans have they passed on to their master? You intend to do battle, but the enemy knows all your plans.” He was clearly unhappy at Naleiya's revelation. Under his law, all of them, whether cast under suspicion or not, would have been put to the question, even if he or his wife had not been in condition to be able to give the order.
A heavy silence fell over the table as the King made no response to Okano's true words.
Finally, the Prince spoke. “Be that as it may, General Okano, war is upon us, whether our enemy knows everything we plan, or not. Kyron attacks tomorrow. We have no more time.”
Zerina gave her fiancé a small smile as his words got everyone's mind back on track. They all looked to her, waiting to hear her recount the strategies Kyron used in Cosmaltia, as well as the one huge flaw she had said the plans had.
Slowly, keeping her emotions masked, she began the tale of Cosmaltia's final days. Everyone listened in silence.
“You have already done what we had no time to do. You have evacuated every last soul to this City, stopping him from enlarging his army,” she said in conclusion. “But, you still have the same inescapable problem we did. And it will dent all your carefully laid plans. You still have no way of fighting the drodemions.”
A collective flinch spread through all the Galatians at the table. That was the worst problem with Kyron's enormous army; it was made out of friends and family, out of innocent men, women and children.
“I fail to see the great difficulty,” Okano said. “They are dead already, are they not?”
Medara flinched again, but answered smoothly. “No, they're not dead. When they are killed, however, they revert to their original form before dying. Can you imagine what it would be like to cut into someone only to have them revealed to you as a loved one moments before they die at your hand?” Her voice grew unsteady as she spoke.
No one spoke for a while, all lost in the horror Kyron had created.
“Yet we will all have to,” Valana finally murmured into the silence. “Or else we have already lost.”
Everyone looked at her, sharply, ready to contradict her words, yet no one did. She was right, of course. She knew better than most here what it was like to cause the death of a loved one. Everyone knew her story and knew that her words had not been spoken from callousness.
“That will no longer be a problem,” Markis said from his little lab in the corner of the Hall.
Everyone jumped, having forgotten that he and his wife were still present.
Markis strode triumphantly towards the table, proudly holding up a large vial of what looked like water. Shaneulia followed quickly behind, carefully carrying a sword in her hands.
“Now, the main problem with the drodemions, apart from what you've just said, is that there was no way to subdue them. No magic would work, except to keep them at bay. Anything but a killing strike would do little more than slow them. Once Kyron ordered them to kill, it is all they would want to do,” he said, his brilliant blue eyes all but glowing as he spoke. “Well, we have fixed all that. With this. It is derived from the same elixir that keeps us alive perpetually. But I have modified it a little for use against drodemions. Now, we can stop them.”
“Without hurting them,” Shaneulia added, her brown eyes hopeful.
Valana looked at the incredulous, yet hopeful stares of the Galatians.
“How can you be sure it works?” Prince Niden asked, looking at the vial dubiously. “You have no drodemions to try it on.”
“We have one,” Markis said, just as two of his sons came into the Hall, a drodemion screeching and writhing in the device that held it prisoner as well as keeping it away from its keepers.
“Father,” they said formally, nodding at him, “my Lords,” they added nodding to the table.
“Where did you get that?” the King demanded, standing up. “Have you and your wife turned traitors, too? I ordered them all incinerated for the safety of everyone here.”
Markis had poured some of the elixir onto a cloth and was rubbing it along the sword.
“High Lord Larkel,” Markis whispered, locking eyes with the King. “He came to me, shortly after the culling was ordered. He asked if he could construct something in my basement, a cage for a special type of prisoner. I didn't really understand, but I allowed it. I trusted him. He asked for my help as High Lord and together we constructed a cage, and that device.” He pointed to the contraption his sons held. “Then he brought her in. At least, he said it was female. She was already transformed when I first laid eyes on her. I don't know who she was but he asked if we could take samples from her. He hoped that I could work out how to stop them. He was wrong. I couldn't. Shaneulia did.” He smiled at his wife as he took the sword, now glowing yellow, and held it out to the High Commander.
“Strike her. As if you were in battle.”
Medara jumped away from the table and the blade, looking utterly appalled.
“I will not,” she choked. She looked between the drodemion and the sword. “What if it doesn't work? Clearly you have not actually tried it on … her.”
“You are right. We have only one drodemion, only one chance to test it. We had to make sure it was perfect. But I am sure it is ready, now,” Shaneulia said, softly.
Naleiya watched the exchange through frozen eyes, her mind far away.
She was in her brother's office, crying, as she took her place as the head of the Order. His place. She had sensed a strong magical lock on the side wall. She had only managed to open it because she had had his staff and was of his blood.
She heard Queen Valana speak even as in her mind the secret door swung open again.
“I will do it,” Queen Valana said, standing and moving around to take the blade.
The Commander took a step towards her, hand on the hilt of her sword.
Valana turned her silver gaze calmly on Medara, her voice and eyes hard as steel. “You need to see this. You have to make yourself willing to strike, or you can go to his black kingdom now and surrender.”
In Naleiya's mind she was slowly unravelling the revealed scroll she found behind the wall with trembling hands. It was a list of all those whom the High Lord had been ordered to kill, all those tainted with the drodemion curse. They had had to be killed before they turned, stopping the plague before it started. She had almost put it back. She didn't want to relive the horror. But she had persisted, drawn on by a curiosity about what had made her brother keep this here, locked so carefully away.
As she neared the bottom, a smaller scroll had fallen out. On it, was a confession, her brother's. In it, he named himself a traitor for disobeying the King's direct command. He had spared the life of a single tainted individual in secret, asking Markis for help without really telling him it was illegal, knowing the day would come when they would have to fight drodemions again. He wrote how he had planned to spare more, as many as he could, but had learned the rest had all turned already, and had been destroyed as the King commanded. At the very bottom had been the name of the one he had spared.
Valana spun to face the creature, her silver eyes turning hard within their black rims as she nodded to the men to it let go. Taking aim, she thrust the sword quickly in and out of the drodemion's chest, just as Naleiya stood raising a hand to stop her.
“No! Kara!” Naleiya's scream blended into the scream of the drodemion as it collapsed to the floor and was still.
All Galatians around the table were unable to stifle their gasps of horror as the creat
ure screamed and collapsed.
The King was shaking Naleiya's shoulders as she stared in horror at the drodemion on the floor.
“Kara?” he whispered, his eyes tearing up. “You said Kara. Why?!”
“Because that's the name on this,” Naleiya mumbled, pulling the small scroll from inside her robes as if she was in a trance. Her eyes were still fixed on the collapsed skeletal creature.
“You killed her,” she heard herself say to Valana, even though part of her knew that couldn't be true or she would have reverted form already.
“No, listen,” Shaneulia urged, her voice soft.
The unmistakable rattle of drodemion breathing was just audible as everyone quietened down. Naleiya's mind seemed to slowly kick back into gear. There was no wound where the sword had pierced, no pool of blood.
“How?” Medara said, looking at Markis.
“It short-circuits their body. Or at least, that is what we predicted it would do,” Markis said, looking at the sleeping creature. Despite his earlier assertion, he still looked relieved. “This state of deep unconsciousness should last several days.”
“And as you all can see, the properties of the elixir also heal the wound almost instantaneously,” Shaneulia added, accepting the sword back from Valana.
“We will, and our children continue to even now at the laboratory in our home, to manufacture more. We hope to have enough so that every armed man or woman can have a vial. The final numbers of our army would be appreciated,” he added with a wink at Commander Medara. “The elixir binds itself to the blade, and although we cannot be sure, we suggest that the blade gets imbued with more elixir if the glow begins to fade.” Then he looked to Naleiya, troubled by what she had said. He turned his attention back to the royals. “But now, my King, if you wish to arrest us for treason, as traitors, at least allow us to finish making the elixir, first.”
Silence fell in the Hall again as everyone let the news sink in.
The Galatian royals were all bent over the High Lord's confession. Larkel had lost most of his family to Kyron, as well as his friend's family, Kara and her baby. Naleiya shivered. She remembered all too well what that had done to the Baron. To her brother. To Niden and the King and Queen.
Now she knew why, in the days that followed the culling, he had never let anyone into his little cottage. He had kept her there. Kara was smart. She would have eventually accepted her loss, and her infection. Larkel's promise to try to help her would have made her compliant. She must have transformed the day he had locked her up in the Rothers' basement.
“Will … what will happen when she wakes?” Niden asked, his voice cracking as he looked at the skeletal heap that was his sister.
Markis and Shaneulia exchanged a pained glance. They had never been told who the drodemion had been.
“We don't know, Prince Niden,” Markis said, his voice sad. “Nothing, probably. She will be as she was before the sword pierced her.”
“But,” Shaneulia interjected quickly at the pained looks on the royals' faces, “your Makhi or Inagium might be able to study her while she sleeps. That was never able to be done before. Maybe there is a way to break the Curse.”
“And, of course, no one is arresting you,” Niden added at a nod from his grandfather. “You are our allies, not traitors.”
“And even if there isn't a way to cure them,” Naleiya said, her voice strong once more, “we still have a way to stop them in battle without harming them. And if Kyron dies, the curse will most certainly be broken.”
Everyone took this in. Everyone hoped that Kyron's death would end the drodemion curse but no one was certain. The King hugged his Queen to him briefly, then nodded for her and the others to retake their seats.
“Thanks to our High Lord's disobedience, and your hard work, it seems we no longer have to fear hurting our stolen loved ones,” the King began, his voice still rough from tears but now more hopeful.
Yes, Naleiya thought, we will never be forced to kill a loved one again. If we win, they should be free. If we lose, we'll all be dead, or worse, anyway.
The King continued as Markis and Shaneulia began to head back to their table. “Now, we need to add this into our plans and finalize our prediction of—”
The King cut off as a multi-hued blur zipped through the doors and clattered onto the table. It halted at the centre of the table and everyone was able to make it out. Standing on the table was an orange spindler, its feather charred off. In its mouth was a vine, onto which a flinto and cargon held fast. The cargon held on with its jaws, leaving its paws free to hold a raddle. Both flying creatures let go of the vine and landed softly on the table.
The spindler quickly glanced around the table, then settled its gaze on Queen Astria.
“These are the Sacrileons' companions,” she said, her voice barely a whisper.
“StarlaandtheGuardianshavebeencapturedwewereorderedtocomehereweneedaplanorallislost,” Flek said, urgency making him blur even faster through his words.
“What the shimbak did it just say?” asked a bewildered General Okano, referring to an Aurelian creature which confused its prey with a murmuring song.
“We are the companions of the Sacrileon Guardians of Trianon,” Litzie began in her clear voice, all three eyes wide with urgency. “We were ordered to come here should things go wrong. They have. All five remaining Guardians and the Princess Starla have been captured by Kyron.”
The group sat, stunned, staring at the creatures, unwilling to believe their words. Markis and Shaneulia stood frozen, halfway to their table, despair widening their eyes.
“Now are you pleased that Ezira exchanged the Star for a fake?” Okano asked into the silence, his eyes cold. “If Kyron had the true Star, all would already be lost.”
“Starla doesn't have the real amulet?” Kal sounded aghast as he eyed the Aurelian.
“Where are Heny and Melor?” asked Aimee, suddenly swooping down onto the table. She had been trying, unsuccessfully, to sleep on the Queen's throne.
“Aimee!” Biki cooed happily. “Heny has remained in Kyron's stronghold, using his camouflage ability to seem like a rock in Kyron's wall. He can send visuals to Flek,” she added, tapping the spindler's head knowingly. “I'm not sure where Melor is, but he said it was important.”
The people at the table began a rapid discussion of what this meant and what could be done.
Flek wobbled a little and then spoke, his voice even more urgent than before.
“Kyronchangedhisplansheknowsyouemptiedthevillagesheiscomingstraightforthecity.” Suddenly he sounded a little more relaxed. “Stillonlytomorrowatdusk.”
The gathered people all looked to Litzie expectantly.
“Kyron knows you emptied the villages. He will come straight for the city. He is busy adjusting his plan, but it seems he will still come only at dusk tomorrow,” Litzie translated, sounding impatient.
“Kyron does not have the amulet,” Valana spoke over the ensuing babble. “We still have a chance. We must fight.”
“A great, but necessary sacrifice,” General Okano agreed, nodding gravely.
“But Kyron's army stands at over fifty thousand, according to the Queen!” spluttered one of the Captains that was standing guard over the fallen drodemion.
Medara recognised him as his replacement for Captain Trent's position. She sighed as the frightened young man continued.
“We cannot defeat them! We may number twice that many, but what use are our weapons against magmus fire? Or the ergothan's metallic skin? What use are any of us against him?”
“That is quite enough, soldier,” snapped Queen Zerina, authority ringing in her voice. “Will you be a traitor and a deserter too?”
“No, Queen Zerina,” mumbled the young captain, bowing quickly.
“Will you stand in fear like a new recruit while he comes to slaughter your family?”
“No!” he said, more forcefully.
“Then pull yourself together!” she ordered. “We do have a chance.
This is the first truly organised force Kyron has faced. This is the first allied force he has faced. We will not lie down before him.” Zerina's amber eyes were aflame as she spoke.
The King smiled at the Cosmaltian Queen. “Indeed. We will fight, and we may win. Commander Medara, please go and order all your captains to assemble the people. All able-bodied men and woman over the age of sixteen will fight. The duty of all trained soldiers will be to train these as best as possible.”
Medara nodded, giving her wife one long look. She didn't much like the look in her eyes as Naleiya looked over the animals on the table. Then she turned, bowed to the King and left.
“General Okano, may I ask that any children aged ten or over who wish to fight rather than hide and wait, be trained as your children are, to carry spare weapons, and perhaps spare vials of elixir, too,” the King continued, looking from Okano to Markis.
“Yes, King Eldos. We will train them,” Okano said, his voice still grave.
“I will make basic healing elixirs, too,” Markis said suddenly. “The soldiers can drink some if they are wounded.”
“Good,” the King stated, “then lets get to work. You two, please take the … take—”
“Yes, your Majesty,” the Duke's sons said, quickly, seeing the King's difficulty.
Using the device, they levered the sleeping creature upright and then dragged her from the Hall back to the Rothers' basement cage.
Naleiya quietly took the animals aside.
“Do you think they are still alive?” Naleiya asked them.
“Yes, for now,” Kal said, his voice morose, the bobble on his curled tail dangling limply.
Aimee ruffled her feathers. She had been longing for the quiet life of France a lot, lately.
“How are we going to help them?” Aimee said, despite herself.
“We must go back to Abyss Valley,” Naleiya whispered, almost to herself.
“Have you lost your mind?”
Prince Niden was standing right behind her, his face angry and incredulous, his arms folded tightly across his chest.