Arrival

by Charlotte McConaghy

  The Elves held their position on the high ground as decoys for Leostrial’s archers where they could not be reached.

  But it was soon apparent that the Elvish fighters could not bring the army of good the advantage needed to win the battle.

  Jane stood, knee deep in red snow, taking ragged breaths into her exhausted lungs. She looked around at the carnage and the exhausted fighters. She could see Harry, and Luca fighting near her. Harry dodged out of harm’s way, clumsily swinging his sword. Luca was deathly pale, and hammered blows on Leostrial’s men all around.

  Anna was behind them safely away from the battle, helping the healers as best she could.

  Suddenly there was a cry from Jane’s right, and as she turned to see from where it had come, a tall figure loomed in front of her, his sword raised. She gasped in terror and threw herself aside, barely missing the heavy blade’s arc. Jane jarred her knee as she fell to the ground, but there was no time to think about it. Rolling to the side, she only just managed to avoid the next blow. Heaving her sword into the air, she used its heavy momentum to propel it forward into the soldier’s calf. He cried out in pain as it connected with his flesh.

  Jane tried to run when the man’s hand reached out to grip her shoulder, pulling her to the ground in front of him. Winded, she looked up into his blue eyes for just a second. But that was all, because he was already leaning forward to stab his knife into her. Without thinking, Jane lifted her sword, hoping to block his attack, and was shocked to see it slice into his unprotected neck.

  The man opened his mouth in surprise, his eyes widening. He made a gurgling sound, and collapsed on top of Jane. She shrieked and tried to lift him off her, his blood already all over her. It smelt hot and steely and made her gag.

  Panicked tears sprang to her eyes as she desperately tried to escape the heavy load, becoming more hysterical with every moment she remained trapped. Thankfully, just then the body was wrenched off her and sprawled onto the ground next to her. Jane looked down at herself, completely covered in blood, and whimpered.

  “Jane!” a voice from above her said. “Are you all right, my love?”

  It was Fern. Jane pulled ragged breaths into her lungs, trying to stop her tears and letting him help her to her feet. She nodded mutely.

  “Go and help, Anna,” he said. “It’s too dangerous for you here.”

  She shook her head angrily. “Don’t talk to me.” And with that she moved away from him, making sure not to look back.

  She gazed up the hill to her right, and took in the magnificent sight of the Elves lined up. She thought of Blaise, and launched herself into the fray once more, trying not to think of the man she had just killed.

  Jane was set upon by another soldier dropping to the ground, she felt his sword miss her by inches. She waited until the swing of the blade’s momentum took the man off his balance, and she swung her own sword into one of his ankles.

  Clumsily she pulled it out and swung it to her right. It was blocked and she received a heavy blow to her right shoulder. Then without pause, another blow crunched into her left knee and she sprawled onto the ground.

  Jane’s long hair had been concealed under her helmet, but now it flew off, revealing the girl underneath. The soldier faltered and Jane grappled for her sword in time to block the killing blow. She rolled out from underneath the blade, and struck him unconscious.

  The men around her paused for a split second.

  “Don’t stop fighting because I’m a woman!” she screamed at them, and then with a wild swing, she struck two men, one across the chest and another through the neck, jarring her wrist with the impact.

  But there were too many. Slowly she was surrounded. Jane realised she was going to die. There was no way that she could overcome all of them.

  Suddenly the men around her began to drop their swords and shriek in pain and horror. Their cries froze Jane to the spot and she shuddered at the horrific sound.

  ***

  Ria was near to the front of the battle, very close to Accolon, though he had not yet noticed her. Men were dying all around, even the Elves with their bows couldn’t save them.

  It was in that moment that it came to her like a slap in the face. What she had to do. And so, as Ria had previously sung of life, she now sang of death. Not the melancholy tune of the tavern in Luglio, but a full-throated cry.

  She poured herself into the singing of this killing song, for no other could sing such a powerful threnody, a lamentation for the dead.

  Her song rang out over the battlefield, freezing everyone in their tracks and driving them powerless to the ground. At first it reached out only to those around her, knocking them down so that they writhed in excruciating pain. But soon it crept further and further over the battlefield, dropping fighters everywhere.

  So powerful was her song that it overcame her, setting her body alight with pain. The sound became like a kind of shrieking wail that hurt the ears even more.

  It had not yet reached Leostrial and, before his entire army was destroyed, with a whistle that pierced the air for miles, he called for his creature.

  Locktar.

  The huge black wival appeared on the horizon, dark power emanating from its body with each beat of its wings. It was a beast trained to kill, but it took time to reach the battle, time in which every soldier from the army of good felt the dread rising. The black creature of nightmares came closer and closer.

  ***

  Anna watched Locktar rise up on his colossal wings and swoop towards them. In that moment all her nightmares came rushing back. All thoughts of Vezzet and Tomasso quickly vanished, and she thought only of how she was going to die. So much time she had had to prepare, but now that the moment was here, the fear was crippling.

  It took only moments for Locktar to reach the battle. Anna watched as the beast swooped down and plucked Ria from the ground, instantly ceasing her death song. Men who had been in agony collapsed in relief to the ground. Locktar held the singer with tight talons gripping her chest.

  Anna watched in horror as Locktar flew above her, higher and higher into the air, and she knew that he meant to drop the poor girl to her death.

  She was staring into the sky when Locktar suddenly looked down at Anna, and his red eyes burned into hers.

  But what Anna recognised in those eyes was not hatred or evil. It was longing.

  A desperate need to escape.

  Anna felt something then. Something inside her. A connection, a realisation.

  “Locktar!” she screamed, and the beast whipped his head around to face the now tiny speck on the ground. The fighting paused so that all could watch the scene that was playing out.

  “Come to me!” Anna’s words reached up through the sky and were heard clearly by the dragon. They held an authority that most had never heard before. But Locktar did not come to her. He wanted to—how he wanted to—but he could not. He had been taught, from birth, to serve darkness and to hate everything good.

  “You shall not give in to the darkness!” Anna screamed. “Look to the light! Let it take you, and come to me!” Locktar swooped lower, but still he did not land. There was a battle raging inside him, for all to see. His nostrils flared and puffed smoke, his eyes darted in panic.

  “You shall yield to me!” Anna shrieked one final time, and her words were so full of power, that Locktar did exactly that.

  The beast came screeching to the ground, dropped Ria, and stood raging before Anna, his breathing loud and fast.

  Very slowly, Anna stepped towards the beast. He threw his head back and roared, the sound cracking into the sky and terrifying everyone who heard it. Anna froze, then carefully approached Locktar.

  “Anna! What are you doing?” Harry yelled at her. “You’ll be killed!”

  Anna reached out, holding her breath, never breaking eye contact with the dragon, and touched him. She laid her hand very gently on his scales. His breathing was laboured and hot smoke puffed out from his nostrils. Ignoring the shouts of prot
est, she climbed onto the back of the wival and sat carefully behind the wings, trying hard to hold onto the creature’s slippery scales.

  Locktar lifted off the ground and Anna gripped on tightly. The dragon shrieked with anger at the fact that he had been harnessed by yet another. He screamed and bucked in fury.

  Anna hung on for her life, because they were now far above the ground. “Locktar! Stop! Yield to me! Yield to goodness!” she whispered.

  Locktar gave one last, gigantic buck, and then stilled, his heartbeat calming and his breathing slowing. She had him.

  “Fly, Locktar,” Anna said now, stroking his head. So he did. She soared with the great creature, taking huge dives and swoops.

  But there was no time to rejoice in their newfound connection, for below them the battle began to rage again.

  ***

  The battle went on and on. Ria’s song had slowed everything down, but it had not stopped it completely.

  The sun was lowering. They had been fighting for a full day. Satine could only go through the movements. She didn’t want to kill these people.

  There was a ghastly point when she had encountered Accolon, and they could only stare upon each other.

  “Why?” he had asked again, calling over the horrendous battle sounds.

  Hardening her face and her heart, Satine replied, “I have told you this already, Accolon. You know why.” And then because she could not help it, “Now is not the time.”

  Leostrial had fought for some of the day, but had retired to the back of the ranks for the evening. Too exhausted to go on, Satine made her way back to his tent.

  “Satine,” he said as she entered and collapsed into a chair. Altor was sitting next to him and as she looked at her son, Satine saw him open his eyes and shake his head as if he’d been asleep. She looked at Leostrial.

  “What’s going on?” she asked quickly. Altor moved to his mother’s side.

  “Nothing, Mama,” he said.

  “Leostrial, what were you doing in here?” she asked, not taking her eyes off the man.

  Leostrial met her gaze. “Altor’s been helping me.”

  “What do you mean?” Satine asked slowly.

  “Some children have a very strong inner power. Altor in particular. I’ve been using his power to further my own.”

  “Are you insane?” she hissed, standing up in front of Altor. “How dare you use my child like that?”

  “It’s okay,” Altor said. “I want to help, and it doesn’t hurt at all.”

  Satine stared down at her son. He looked fine. “That’s not the point,” she said softly, turning back to Leostrial.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. His voice was deep. “I should have asked your permission. It does not harm him in any way. He can’t even feel it.”

  Satine shook her head, sinking back down into her chair. “I’m too tired for this right now. But it’s not okay—I want to talk about this more later,” she warned. Altor and Leostrial both nodded. Altor was grinning ear to ear.

  “Have some food,” he offered his mother, but Satine thought that if she ate now it would not stay in her stomach.

  On Leostrial’s other side sat Vezzet, his eyes hungrily resting on Satine. He slowly crossed over to her and sat down.

  “My lady,” he drawled, “It is a pleasure to see you again. I should very much like to speak to you when all of this is over. We have a somewhat similar interest.”

  His sly smile was wiped clean off his face as she said, “I have no interest in talking to you at all. Please don’t compare the two of us ever again.” Vezzet looked towards Leostrial, then turned back to her, and as though he had not heard a word of what she just said, laid a hand on her thigh.

  “Move your hand,” she said softly. He didn’t move.

  “Satine, in time you will learn to respect me, even love me,” Vezzet said.

  Satine stared at him, completely lost. But his hand was growing warmer where it gripped her thigh, and suddenly it felt like it was burning. She took a breath, trying to gain some clarity, but he wouldn’t move his hand. She was exhausted and upset from so much fighting, and all of a sudden, it became too much for Satine.

  “Altor,” she ordered, “go outside right now.” The boy looked at his mother’s face, then slunk out of the tent in disappointment. Vezzet smirked at her and moved his hand up her leg.

  A kind of sick panic entered her chest, making it constrict, and the only thing she could think to do was unsheathe her dagger in one swift move and gracefully slice it through his wrist, severing his hand so that it fell from her leg to the floor.

  There was a moment of shocked silence as they all looked at what she had done, and then Vezzet began to scream in fury and fierce agony.

  “Witch!” he shrieked. This was enough for Leostrial.

  “Quiet, you insolent pig. Get out of here before you lose the other one, and never think to speak to the princess in such a way again.”

  Vezzet looked shocked and stared at each of them through his tears. Then he ran from the tent, his shrieks lost amid those of the battle.

  “Why did you let that happen?” Satine hissed furiously. “And in front of the child?”

  “I wanted to see how you handled it,” he replied.

  “Another test? I have been fighting in a war for you, and yet you still find it necessary to test me?” she asked, breathing heavily.

  His eyes narrowed as he looked at her.

  “You can’t let things like that happen in front of Altor,” she said firmly. “He’s just a child.”

  Leostrial was silent for a moment, and then he gave a small, terse nod. “You’re right. Forgive me.”

  Satine blinked, surprised at his apology. She tried to remember when she’d acquired the power to make him admit fault.

  After another long moment, she sighed. “Surely it doesn’t need to be this way.”

  “It will be over soon.”

  “When they are all dead,” Altor murmured darkly and both adults looked at him, startled to see him back in the tent.

  “We don’t want them to die,” Satine said.

  “But they do die.” The boy looked at them both and shrugged. “It’s sad.”

  Leostrial stirred on his seat. “You need never convince me, boy.”

  Satine turned to Leostrial. “Shall we win?” The vulnerability in her voice was clear.

  It was a moment before he replied. “I think we shall, for even as we speak, my reinforcements are appearing.”

  Chapter 41

  The reinforcements were not many. A war god. As Aegir was the sea, and Freyja love, so Odin was war. And when he came to the battle, wreathed in fire, soldiers screamed in fear, for they knew that they were finally undone.

  He rode a fiery chariot, pulled by two gigantic horses made entirely of flames that rode through the sky and out of the clouds. He carried a fire whip, and lashed his horses into a frenzy. He appeared as though a flame himself.

  Far below, Fern watched as the god cut a path through the air. Odin flew above the battle inflicting death upon Accolon’s army below him. He killed as he breathed.

  But, as if from nowhere, out of the sky they came, more beautiful than anything any man had ever seen. Actaeon and Danae, king and queen of the gods, dazzling in gold; following closely was Freyja, the love goddess born from the sea, and so lovely it brought tears to the eyes of the battle weary; Ares, god of the underworld, wreathed in darkness, and wearing the skins of the men he had claimed; and Artemis, goddess of the hunt, clad in green and gold, her bow and arrows slung over her back.

  They came to land before Odin. Actaeon and Danae stepped forward to speak to him, and their words rang out over the dazed mass of people.

  “You have chosen the wrong path, brother,” Actaeon said, his voice a deep rumble.

  Odin frowned and said, “No. It is you who have done so, for you cannot beat me here.” He dismissed them with a flick of his wrist and leaped back into his chariot. It rose into the sky, and after a
quick glance at the scene below him, Odin flew over to where the Elves were firing into the fray.

  Fern watched as Odin flew behind the ranks of Elves, and launched his attack. He began to drive them forward and over the hill.

  “Now, men!” Fern heard Leostrial scream, and saw them obey hastily. The Elves were in range of their opponent’s arrows, and one by one they began to die. They could withstand the world’s turning, could live for hundreds of years without ever aging or falling sick. But they could not withstand the simple bow and arrow.

  It was, perhaps, the most tragic thing that had happened in the long history of the world. Beings of such beauty were not meant to die in such a manner, herded into the soldier’s range. They could do nothing to fight back.

  The Elves were driven into the arrows’ path.

  Odin was still herding them from the back when Fern shouted his challenge. It was the only thing he could think of to do.

  “Odin! Fight me!”

  Odin looked at Fern and regarded him curiously.

  “The last one, Odin,” Fern said softly, knowing he would be heard. “The last battle. I know you have been waiting for it. I know it is your deepest desire to fight the last battle. Here it is. Come to me.”

  Fern rested lightly on his sword, waiting. The war god came to stand before him, leaving his chariot and horses behind.

  He could not resist such a challenge. What he yearned for, ached for, was a real fight.

  The battle slowed again, for this was something that had never happened before. No one had ever heard of a man challenging a god.

  They stood facing each other, and though he was much smaller, and much more fragile, Fern’s eyes burned just as bright as the god’s.

  ***

  Not far away, Jane heard the deadly challenge and desperately made her way to where Fern and Odin stood, her heart thumping. The other gods had come to watch, and Jane’s eyes went instantly to Freyja. She registered briefly that this was the woman from her dream who had told Jane to save Fern from dying on Guanu.