Maiden of Fire

by Ishabelle Torry

  They came upon a main walkway Jalomar recognized from his childhood. The wide hallway once boasted beautiful paintings of the royal family, silken tapestries, and fine carpeting crafted by the gypsies. He remembered racing his father’s men up and down the length, and ending the day with a gigantic feast and a plethora of merry folk. But that was another time. Before Labelle’s scourge graced the now dilapidated and empty fortress.

  They rounded the final corner into the walkway leading outside into the courtyard. He signaled Kald to make his way for the gates, while he and the rest of his men continued to the adjoining corridor on the other side. It wasn’t until they reached the farthest tower steps they encountered the first set of unsuspecting guards. Jalomar's broadsword decapitated both men in one swipe. He took satisfaction in the blood oozing from their severed necks. “We need to spread out,” he said. “I'll continue this direction. The rest of you form groups and search the remaining towers. Try to keep clear of the servants’ quarters in the eastern wing. But if need be, kill them all.”

  “Ramona, you have to push. Breathe in deeply!”

  Sandread held the child's dark head in his hands. A halo of blue tinted the infant’s mouth as it had yet to take breath. He was near panicked to death, but remained calm on the outside for Ramona’s benefit. He’d never delivered a babe before, but he could easily see the child she bear was large. Maybe too large for her petite frame. He feared the babe would kill not only her, but itself as well.

  Ramona faded in and out of consciousness. Her head rolled from side to side as she screamed her anguish at the ceiling. “Just cut it out of me! Save the baby!”

  “Nay, Ramona. We are beyond that point. You need to push. Just a few more times.”

  “I can’t…” Her words came out in a long string of wails as her body inevitably pushed without her consent.

  Sandread sighed with the creaking of the opening chamber door. “Wench, I summoned you over an hour ago!” He snapped his head toward the door to further scold the late midwife. “Damn the Vespa,” he cursed and shook his head.

  Jalomar entered with sword drawn, mad eyed, and ready to lunge. Sandread returned his attention the baby’s head cradled in his hands. “This is not the time for a fight, Jalomar. Your babe is slowly killing its mother, along with itself!”

  Jalomar dropped his bloodied weapon. His chainmail quickly followed and landed next to the pile of Sandread's armor. The bitter brothers nodded at one another in mutual understanding. Ramona's life would come first.

  Jalomar dropped to his knees at her bedside and took her by the hand. He flinched when he felt the heat emanating from her pale flesh. “I'm here, my petite,” he whispered into her ear, gently kissing her reddened cheek.

  Ramona's eyes sprang open. “You came for me!” A hoarse scream tore from her throat.

  “Ramona,” Sandread said. “I need you to push now!”

  Ramona inhaled deeply and clenched down hard. The little one's shoulders broke free of her mother's womb, its body sliding out with a little guidance from Sandread.

  “It’s a girl,” Sandread whispered, feeling an awe of accomplishment. He cut the umbilical cord with a small dagger stashed in his boot, and held the still infant to his ear. “She's not yet taken breath.”

  The bedchamber filled with light and warmth as Cynthe materialized in the afterglow. Graceful arms reached out and demanded the child. Sandread obeyed without question, while Jalomar stared stupidly. She spoke into the baby’s ear in a language Sandread didn’t understand, then flipped the silent infant over. A smack to the babe’s rear had the little one gulping in her first breath and squealing her protest of the treatment.

  She cooed to the wriggling baby as she placed her into Ramona’s open and waiting arms.

  “We need to move quickly. Labelle will sense I am here and discover the child.”

  Ramona stared up at Jalomar, as if searching for his acceptance. For a fleeting second, the lines in his face disappeared, revealing a forgotten youth. They had been at war so long, it was easy to forget both men were in the prime of their youth—a youth lost to anger, hatred, betrayal—and Labelle’s tyranny.

  Sandread’s gaze bounced between Ramona and Jalomar. Any fantasy of Happy Ever After with Ramona vanished as he watched the two exchange kisses and embrace, their newborn bundle between them completing their family portrait. Yet, the rage that should have been burning through his skin at the sight failed to ignite. Instead, elation and pride filled his…soul? He didn’t quite know. But there was peace where peace hadn’t existed in decades. He offered a reluctant arm to his brother. “Our feud ends with this miraculous moment. Our bloodline has been strengthened this day.”

  Jalomar accepted Sandread’s arm. “Aye, my brother. Today we start anew.”

  Cynthe attended to the afterbirth and cleaning of Ramona as the two men helped each other reapply their armor and weapons. Finally, after taking much longer than Sandread had anticipated, he and Jalomar led the two females and baby down the tower steps. Weapons drawn, they led the way back to the kitchen trap door, ready to strike the killing blow to anyone daring enough to cross their path.

  The sounds of battle echoed into the keep. Jalomar grunted. “Kald succeeded in opening the gates.”

  “Indeed,” Sandread replied. Guilt consumed him. Those were his men outside dying…nay, they were Labelle’s men. One glance at the child in Ramona’s arms strengthened his resolve. “This isn’t right,” Sandread said as they came upon the kitchen swing-style doors. “There is no infantry posted anywhere. This quarter is to always have men to guard the food and water in case of siege.”

  Jalomar allowed Sandread to take the lead. Sandread kicked the door open and stepped inside, Jalomar a step behind. Labelle’s cruel laughter and a dozen armed men met them on the inside.

  Furious gray eyes swept over Sandread. “I wish I could say I am surprised, Commander. It’s a good thing I already found your replacement!” Labelle pointed. “Kill them all, and bring me that child!”

  Chapter Forty-one

  Invisible to the human eye, Azer crossed the courtyard-turned-bloody-battlefield. He damned mankind, wondering why it should be spared at all. Surely ridding the universe of such a savage species would be worth the sacrifice of his people’s power? They were violent, unkind, and destructive creatures, destined to move across the stars into the universe, where they would ultimately spread the pestilence called humanity.

  He recognized Jalomar’s second in command, Kald. Sweat and blood poured from the warrior; his maroon aura reflected carnage. He dual-wielded two double-edge daggers with deadly accuracy. His enemies came one after another, sometimes by two. He cut them down with barbaric abandon.

  Metal clashed against metal. Intestines and body parts littered the ground. Both sides were taking massive losses. Azer sidestepped the battling humans as if they were no more than a rock in his path; his soul guided him to Cynthe. The moment he feared had finally arrived. He’d promised not to interfere with Cynthe’s destiny, but it was a promise he had never intended to keep. He’d set his plan into motion upon the maiden’s arrival. Everything he’d done, every interaction he’d staged, all led to this final moment. His beloved Cynthe would not be the one lying on the Altar of Fate. Nay. Ramona would take her place. Her death would be the death of the prophesy as well. After one more contemptuous sweep of the pitiful humans killing each other, he entered the castle with a heavy heart for what he was about to do.

  Back to back, Jalomar and Sandread fought Labelle’s men. Each new thrust and parry took its toll on their energy and ability to fend off the attackers. Tucked into the corner between the two open cooking pits, Cynthe summoned a protective ward around herself and Ramona, who cowered behind Cynthe and prayed for a safe escape. She stared down at her beautiful daughter cradled in her arms. Calm, emerald eyes gawped back with irrefutable wisdom. The baby cooed softly, as if acknowledging what was happening.

  Labelle dared to step over the ward; she winced an
d inhaled sharply, but quickly regained her composure. “Oh my dear, sister. Your little parlor tricks cannot keep me out. But never fear, you'll have your chance to die once I've siphoned the child's soul. I wouldn’t want to stand in the way of your destiny.”

  Cynthe stood firm. “Aye, my fate is complete with my death, but I will take you with me.”

  “Are you a fool? The darkness always consumes the light.”

  “Nay. The light chases away the darkness, dear sister. There once was an ancient saying. Good always conquer evil!” Cynthe’s aura expanded. The bright light engulfed the entire kitchen as it spread from corner to corner.

  Moving her hands in a circular pattern, Labelle formed a black plasma ball. “I should have killed you years ago!”

  In reply to Labelle’s threat, Cynthe summoned her own white plasma ball. The two sisters stared each other down. “Run, Ramona!” Cynthe shouted as her energy ball shot off toward Labelle.

  Like Fourth of July fireworks, majik lit up the kitchen. Random bolts zapped several of the fighting soldiers dead. Jalomar made eye contact with Ramona and mouthed the word “Go!” He and Sandread backed up in unison. Labelle’s henchmen followed their lead. Spotting a clear path, Ramona held her daughter to her breasts and made a break for the exit.

  Azer sidestepped Ramona as she raced through the doorway with her child. Despite the somberness of the situation, a smile touched his lips as he felt the newborn soul of the little maiden. A fleeting second of remorse caused him pause. The child would be motherless come the next full moon.

  The last of Labelle’s men fell to the blood slicked floor.

  Cynthe's brilliant energy crept its way toward Labelle. In a matter of moments, she would take the first step toward fulfilling her destiny by offering her light to trap Labelle. Her aura flickered as her strength faltered and the darkness coiled around her.

  Jalomar raised his sword and prepared to charge Labelle. Azer reclaimed his corporeal form and placed a hand on the warrior’s shoulder. “You cannot interfere.”

  His own voice sounded foreign to his ears as he uttered the pillar of his hallowed vow. Agony ate his soul as Cynthe’ aura gradually dulled. Her inner light was being overcome by Labelle’s darkness. Every ounce of his being screamed to reach out to her, to fuse his energy with hers, and give her the ultimate power of the High Priests and Priestesses before him. To sacrifice his light would doom his soul. Alas, he couldn’t. He had no choice but to allow the majikal battle’s continuation. For his deception to succeed, he required Cynthe to absorb a magnanimous amount of Labelle’s dark energy into herself before he spirited her away. His eyes never left Cynthe as she channeled all of her purity into delivering blast after blast of light toward the dark queen. My love, I am here for you. He swore he heard her soul whisper her love in return.

  Azer glared at the corpses littering the floor. Anger ebbed in his chest and spread through his limbs. But not for the humans laying in pools of their own blood. Nay. He hated them for this moment in time being forced upon his beloved. He damned them for their own stupidity and selfish ways. They didn’t deserve the Vespa’s protection any longer. Any reservation about altering the prophesy residing in his conscience was put at ease by the scene before him.

  Cynthe’s aura flashed in and out of existence, pulsating a rainbow of colors as she wrestled to balance and control the light and darkness she absorbed into her soul.

  A whirling black vortex opened inches from Labelle’s feet. The dark queen raised her arms above her head and began to chant in Vespian. Azer immediately recognized the incantation. She was summoning a portal to whisk his beloved away to the Altar of Fate, hidden deep inside the ruins of the old world buried below Gullymouth Cave. The time to interfere had come.

  Intense winds filled the windowless kitchen. The force knocked Sandread and Jalomar down, keeping them pinned to the stone floor. A deep blue aura surrounded Azer. His azure eyes glazed over and turned white. With arms splayed wide, he summoned his own portal to Gullymouth Cave.

  “What is happening?” Sandread demanded.

  “We cannot interfere!” Jalomar shouted above the building gushes of air.

  “Cynthe will not die to save your undeserving race! That is what is happening, milords.” He turned his gaze upon the gawping queen, who stopped mid-chant to investigate the commotion. “Labelle is now your problem,” Azer said with finality.

  He stepped forward and reached for Cynthe. Everything around him moved in slow motion. With a simple though he’d zip them away to another time, another life…another chance. “It is time,” he whispered. He closed his eyes and visualized the isolated ruins of the Circle of Phases. As the High Priest, he was the only one aware of its existence and location. No one would follow. It was ironic, really. Ramona, the great champion of mankind, had been spared by the act of her High Priestess mother crossing the time stream, and now, so too would his beloved, ultimately damning Ramona and denying the prophesy fulfillment.

  Azer inhaled deeply and clamped down on Cynthe’s shoulder. He concentrated on channeling his energy into the vortex. The ground shook violently. No one dared to move. Light majik rushed toward Cynthe, encircling her in a flurry of tendrils. She flickered between dimensions as Azer attempted to pull her being away with him, only to solidify a moment later. “Impossible,” he hissed. His eyes narrowed on Labelle. “Release whatever charm you have on her, witch.”

  Both Cynthe and Labelle ceased their majikal fight, turning their attention toward the High Priest.

  “I have no hold on her, Vespa,” Labelle spat. Her lips curled upward into a snarl. “It seems neither do you.”

  “Do not lie to—”

  Coldness death-gripped Azer’s shoulder and jerked him back. Elliptical eyes the shade of amber bore into Azer’s, striking fear in him for the first time in centuries.

  “You cannot interfere, High Priest. The Sacred Scrolls have been written.”

  “Nay!” Azer shouted as he fell to his knees, yanking his arm free of the uninvited hand. “You cannot stop me, Shema! None of you can!” Plasma surrounded him in a whirlwind of chaotic colors. He threw his head back, chanting the Sacred Incantation. “I offer onto thee, the Queen Mother Vida of the Great Magi, take my very life, my soul, and all it’s worth!”

  “Nay!” Cynthe screamed. “Do not invoke it. Do not!”

  Azer ignored her heart wrenching pleas and continued. “I offer thee my light, Queen Mother, in exchange for victory this day!”

  “Azer, I beg thee, stop this!” Cynthe cried.

  He dared a final glance of his beloved. “Forgive me, my love. I will not let you pay for their treacherous ways.”

  Beams of energy shot forth from Azer’s fingertips, spiraling toward Labelle and webbing her to the floor. All she could do was gape as a prismatic sphere floated toward her. She shrank as it encircled her, slowly merging her physical body, until finally, the blackened orb could fit into the palm of a hand.

  Tears streamed down Cynthe’s cheeks. “You have rewritten the future…”

  Obsidian eyes stared back. Azer’s enigmatic aura faltered as darkness strangled it. “I did what I must to save your ungrateful life,” he spat.

  Cynthe winced. “Azer, it never should have been. It was my destiny to fuse my soul with Labelle's, and undo my mistake that led us here this very day. My light would have destroyed her when she tried to snuff it upon the Altar of Changed Fates.”

  Lividness choked him. He dared not speak until he gained some control.

  “What mistake?” Jalomar demanded from behind.

  Cynthe hung her head in shame. “Ten years ago, when I asked you to spare Labelle from death and you granted it...for me. She was destined to die that night, but I couldn't let it pass. I had already lost one sister, your mother, Analah. I couldn't lose another. Without my interference, this day…the arrival of the maiden…all of it, would not be occurring.”

  “No one can blame you for your compassion,” Jalomar said.

 
Sandread, however, took the information bitterly. “Then it is your fault for all of this? You allowed that bitch to live, and now, all is lost.”

  Jalomar clamped Sandread's armored shoulder. “It is who she is, Commander. Do not blame her for being what she cannot help.”

  Sandread muttered beneath his breath.

  Azer's snorted at their simpleton thinking. Fate was a bitch. You change her plan, and she punishes you harshly. And now everyone would pay for it—everyone but Cynthe. How could he have been so blind to her treachery all those years ago? He approached Cynthe. “For years you’ve condemned me, playing the role of a pure innocence and selfless sacrifice. When in fact it was you who originally changed your destiny.” His hand cracked against her cheek loudly. She crumpled to the floor.

  Stupefied, he gawped at her sprawled body at his feet. “I do not know why I did that.” He looked up just in time to see the butt of Jalomar’s sword closing in.

  Chapter Forty-two

  Ramona ran as hard and fast as she could, and then ran some more. Pain from the recent delivery of her child diverged through her body. Adrenaline and determination to save her child from Labelle gave her the unexpected push to keep going. She dashed through the battlement, sidestepping and leaping over pools of blood, brain matter, and corpses galore. The few soldiers from either side left in the fray ignored her as they focused on the continuing slaughter. It wasn't until she cleared the gates she finally dropped to her knees to catch her breath, cradling her daughter against her sweaty bosom. Blackness threatened to claim her weakened body. She had lost so much blood during the birth, and even now she could feel it trickling down her thighs and staining her nightgown. But she wouldn’t stop. She couldn’t. Her child’s life depended on her pushing through the pain.