The Myatheira Chronicles: Volume Three: Crown of Ice

by Melissa Collins

  Anxiety building, Edric rose from his chair. He couldn’t take much more of this. Why did his sister’s happiness bring him so much suffering? He wanted to be there for her. To share in her joy. Instead all he could think about was his own miserable and lacking existence. What was there for him to show for his life? Eighty-six years old and he remained a bachelor with no prospects, no prestige in the military or honors for any great deeds. Turning his gaze to the ceiling he closed his eyes in attempts to calm himself. There was no sense in getting so worked up. He was being foolish. The chaos of the afternoon was getting to him. The best thing to do was excuse himself until he could regain his senses.

  Calmly, he moved over to rest his hand on Callum’s shoulder in a final gesture of good will. Not wanting to risk his friend seeing his face, Edric focused his eyes straight ahead, walking toward the door without giving a second glance over his shoulder. The last thing he wanted was for anyone to see him in this state. They would worry about him. Right now they needed to focus on Aiva. He could deal with his foolishness on his own.

  Ducked behind a large drift of snow Neomi loaded her bow, preparing herself to step onto the battlefield once again. The fighting had been raging for days. Even with their increased numbers from the allied tribes, the Ythes were remarkably strong on their own ground. They knew the village. Aware of every hiding place. She lost track of who was currently winning, unsure if the Chief maintained the upper hand or if Emakai was slowly taking them over. All she knew was the battle. As long as the Ythes continued to fire upon them, Neomi intended to do the same. She refused to go down without a fight. It was more honorable to die defending her father than to live with the shame of defeat.

  Through the chaos she’d lost sight of her father and brother, their men bravely charging onward around her. The pain it brought to see their own people slaughtering each other was almost unbearable. In all her years she’d never witnessed such a horrible atrocity. How could they have ever believed Emakai a friend? A trusted ally? For him to turn against them on a whim, simply for the sake of power… was he really no better than the humans who constantly warred with one another for status and control?

  She was a perfect image of calm as she stepped from behind the drift, bow raised, the tip of her arrow pointed at one of the Ythes guards positioned outside the perimeter of the village. Emakai’s men fought to prevent the Komoa from crossing the border. It was their only stronghold. If they could break the barrier and get inside, victory would be easier to obtain. The enemy would have nowhere to fall back. Drawing the string with ease she let the arrow fly, straight and true, striking into the heart of her target.

  Bow loaded again she aimed for another guard. It had taken them this long to get within range of the village. She needed to be careful. Any wasted shot would give away their intentions and ruin the chances of crossing into Isavo. It was fortunate that her skill with the bow rivaled her father’s best men. When she took aim, every arrow hit its mark. Releasing the string, she watched contentedly as the weapon easily debilitated the second guard. It wasn’t her goal to kill them all. Some would need to be kept alive for questioning.

  On her order the men rushed forward, cutting through the sea of bodies on the battlefield, arrows whistling overhead, the sound of swords clashing… it blurred together in Neomi’s mind. She couldn’t dwell on the cacophony. They weren’t into the village yet. She needed to keep her focus.

  Ythes warriors surrounded them. In that moment everything became a weapon. Shooting the arrows at such close proximity would only hinder her in battle. With incredible speed and agility she weaved through the men, striking at them with the solid wood of her bow, rendering them unconscious, barely utilizing the entirety of her strength. She felt empowered. As if the energy within her body was somehow strengthened by an invisible force. Adrenaline. She’d never been one to experience excitement to a degree that would spark such a reaction, but it was the only explanation. Unfortunately the enemy appeared to grow in strength the closer they came to the village as well.

  Smoothly, she bent low to withdraw a dagger from her boot, using it to take down the men in her path. Each one fell with little struggle, unable to reach her with their weapons before she delivered the deadly blows. She struck with precision, her eyes instantly drawn to the openings on her opponent. Vital and vulnerable targets. To hit anywhere else would be a waste of time and energy. Every move counted. Each body taken down was one less Ythes between them and victory. A second chance at peace among their people.

  Observant of the area around her, she caught sight of a man, his figure vague and indiscernible at first, making his way up the stairs to a watchtower. A soft glow from the setting sun was all which illuminated him, providing a brief glimpse of his face before he settled into the shadows once again. Neomi recalled the man with clarity though she’d only met him on a few short occasions. The man responsible for this madness. Under her breath she uttered the name Emakai as if it was the most offensive curse, face contorted in absolute hatred. She wanted to strike him down but to do so would go against her father’s orders. He wanted Emakai alive.

  Appearing in the window of the tower Emakai shouted over the swords and blowing wind, his voice steady and calm. “Okivra!”

  Neomi’s hands moved without conscious thought of her actions, readying her bow with an arrow to take aim on the despicable man. In an instant she released the arrow. Calling upon the energy of the land around her she beckoned the wind to increase, aiding the speed and accuracy of her strike. She watched the tip land solidly into Emakai’s shoulder, causing him to stumble backward, the weight of his body thrown down the stairs of the watchtower into the snow and ice below. He would survive the injury. What the other men did to him once he hit the ground was no longer her concern.

  A low rumble resounded through the area, distracting Neomi from her conquest. The snow underfoot trembled, causing her to sink through the surface. The ice was sturdy. For her to break through the hardened exterior rarely occurred unless she desired to do so. The Ovatai were strong, but light on their feet. Travel was easier done from atop the snow.

  Shaking her head she tried to ignore the odd noise. It came again, rising and falling, building intensity before gradually fading away. The men around her continued their ceaseless combat, seemingly oblivious to the sound. Could they not hear it? Was she imagining things? It came again, the tremble in the ground more noticeable than before. She’d heard of quakes in the southern regions of Myatheira. For one to occur in Ethrysta was unheard of. There has to be an explanation. But she wasn’t hallucinating. The second rumble had clearly caught the attention of several warriors, their eyes darting around the area in search of the source.

  Surrounded by the bodies of her fallen enemy Neomi examined the landscape. Something didn’t feel right. The energy inside her body felt chaotic. It heated her skin to an uncomfortable temperature, causing her to sweat despite her inactivity. For a moment she felt faint. Staggering on her feet. What was wrong with her? Did the others feel this as well? Hand on her forehead she stared at the others on the field. Through her dizziness it was impossible to tell if they were unsteady also or if it was merely the spinning of her own head that made them appear so.

  Clutching her bow tightly she positioned it in front of her, piercing the lowest point into the snow, creating a base for her to maintain a sense of balance. Closing her eyes she inhaled deeply. She needed to get control of herself. What good would she be to her people if she couldn’t stand up straight without fear of falling? She wasn’t accustomed to sickness. If this was anything like what it felt to be seriously ill, she didn’t want to experience it again.

  Gradually the discomfort began to fade. Drawing in deep breaths, she began to feel her body temperature lower once again, clearing her mind from the fuzziness which had briefly overcome it. Convinced that whatever oddity had occurred was now past, she withdrew her bow from the ground to rejoin the battle. There was still much to be done. This was not the time to dw
ell on the strangeness of her sudden spell.

  Emakai remained at the base of the stairs where he’d fallen, Komoan warriors taking up position to prevent him from running away. The Chief and Onuric were already on their way to observe the captive. Neomi wanted to hear the trial. It would be short. Her father wouldn’t have any intention of letting a traitor live. After everything that had happened – the deaths of so many Ovatai, the traitorous plans to overthrow the Chief – none of the tribe leaders would argue against his immediate execution.

  At her approach the men separated, granting her passage through the crowd. Okivra was already standing over Emakai. Two strong warriors gripped their captive by the arms, holding him still, preventing him from getting away despite his attempts to break their hold. “I never thought I would see this day,” Okivra frowned, drawing a long, slender sword from the sheath at his waist. Letting the faint light of the evening sun reflect off the polished blade he placed the tip against Emakai’s throat. The base of his chin rested atop the metal, held high under Okivra’s hand. “Your weapon has the blood of our warriors upon its blade. What have you to say of your actions?”

  “Do you expect me to cower at your feet, Okivra? I am not so weak.”

  “Choose your words wisely, Emakai. Do you deny that you led the attacks against us? That you intended to take power for yourself ?”

  “Why should I deny it? You are a pathetic excuse for a Chief,” Emakai spat, coughing at the pressure added to the blade at his neck, breaking through the skin to draw a trickle of blood. It dripped down his pale skin, staining the stark white of his coat. “Killing me does not change the truth, Okivra. Your family’s days in power are numbered. My death will only bring forth another who shares my views. How many wars do you intend to fight? How many men must die to secure your seat before you realize that your time has come?”

  “Your death will be an example of what happens to those who defy their own people.”

  Another rumble shook the ground underfoot. This time it was impossible for Neomi to ignore. The other men noticed it, scanning the area in search of what caused the sound, a hand reaching out from behind Neomi to steady her, careful not to let her fall. Her father tightened his hold on the hilt of his sword. Without relieving the pressure held against Emakai’s throat he let his eyes trail over the ground, clearly curious.

  Neomi’s attention reverted to Emakai at his sudden outburst of laughter. He sounded insane. Mad. The cackle caused a shudder to course through her spine, shivering to think of what a man might find humorous at the time of his judgment. He was condemned to death. What was there to laugh at? It was all she could do to keep from driving her own blade through him before her father had a chance, simply to put an end to his incessant laughter.

  “It awakens,” he chanted wildly. The words came again and again, broken by the maniacal sound of his laughter, gazing up at the sky as if waiting for something to appear. Sanity no longer could be found in the depths of his glowing eyes. “You will all die. It will see the end of you, Okivra. It will see the end of you all!”

  With incredible speed and strength the Chief thrust his arm forward from where the tip of his blade remained at Emakai’s neck. The insane prattle of his voice was cut short by a disgusting gurgle. Blood poured forth from the wound inflicted by the Chief, leaving Emakai’s body limp and lifeless in the hands of his captors. Satisfied by his silence in death, he was released, falling to the ground with a dull thud upon the snow.

  Unsettled by the unusual happenings Neomi found her way to her father’s side, curious to know what his opinion was on the matter. She watched him position his sword in front of his body, a wave of energy pulsing between his hand and the hilt, shooting through the weapon. In a flash of light the blood on the blade was forced along the surface, pushed to the tip where it fell onto the snow, leaving his weapon clean of Emakai’s traitorous taint. “Neomi,” he stated calmly, replacing his sword into its sheath. “Are you injured?”

  “I am not, Father. Are you?”

  “Of course not.”

  Before she could speak, another rumble cut through the area. It was more powerful than the ones prior, the force causing Neomi’s teeth to rattle. Reflexively her father reached out to grab her arm while fighting to remain on his feet. “Father, what is this?” she gasped.

  “Something is wrong,” Okivra frowned. “There is a disturbance in the energy of this place. It is unbalanced. Unstable. We need to gather the men and leave here at once. It will be easier to determine the cause when we are at a safer distance.”

  The uncertainty in her father’s voice did nothing to calm her nerves. Whatever it was had him confused. The furrow to his brow was all she needed to see to know he was worried. She didn’t like that look on him. It didn’t suit him well.

  A wave of heat passed over her again. It winded her, leaving her breathless, fingers clenched tightly on her father’s arm. Through her confusion she became aware of the ground trembling again, constant this time, giving no sign of stopping. It grew louder and stronger until finally reaching a crescendo. With a loud crack the snow and ice split open at their feet, creating a large crevice which spanned along the village, broken and uneven, spreading over the ground like a web. Okivra’s eyes flashed, reaching out to Neomi, his arms wrapped around her, taking her to the ground to position his body over hers protectively.

  It happened so fast. From under her father she watched a large creature burst forth from the ground in a spray of ice and soil, debris raining down on them from above. Shock prevented her from conscious thought. The beast was massive. She didn’t want to believe it was real. Its white skin practically glowed against the sky where it rose above them, hovering in the air. A pair of colossal wings spread wide over the horizon, blocking the sun from view. Neomi didn’t have much experience or knowledge of creatures from other countries but she couldn’t help feeling that this was something unknown to any race. It resembled a serpent in many ways, the tail long and thick, spiraling out from the hulking body. The neck was similar to the tail, somewhat thicker, widening near the head. With every flap of its wings the wind blew, hard and strong, pushing Neomi and her father across the ground as if they weighed nothing.

  From her concealment under her father’s chest she could hear him murmuring something to himself, the words incoherent at first before their meaning finally struck in Neomi’s mind. “It cannot be true.” What couldn’t be true? Did he know what this creature was? How were they going to get away?

  “Fall back!” he shouted suddenly, struggling to rise, his arms remaining wrapped around Neomi to pull her with him. “Everyone, to the sleds! Evacuate the village!”

  A piercing screech filled the air. The shrillness of the sound was painful, a scream escaping Neomi’s lips, her hands lifting to cover her ears, desperate to muffle the noise. The discomfort was unbearable. Every limb of her body tingled and pulsed, the energy inside practically boiling. The battlefield was in chaos, men and women rushing in every direction, leaping over the cracks and debris caused by the beast which still lingered overhead. As it moved higher into the sky the wind from its wings eased slightly, making it easier for Okivra and Neomi to catch their footing, running toward the sled where Onuric was already seated, beckoning them to move faster.

  The Chief threw Neomi the remaining distance between him and Onuric. She felt her body impact with her brother, though he showed no discomfort at the blow, quickly settling her on the seat beside him. “Come, Father,” he directed with an eerie sense of calm, taking up the reins to snap them at the wolf-like animals lined along the front of the sled, directing them into motion. Okivra dug the balls of his feet into the ground, using them to spring forward in a valiant leap, landing on the sled as it began to move away from the chaos of the battlefield. In shock and disbelief Neomi twisted on the seat, gazing back at the sight they left behind. She didn’t want to admit it was anything other than a dream. This couldn’t be happening. Surely she’d suffered a blow to the head while in
combat which caused a lapse in consciousness. Soon enough she would awaken and find herself in their home in the village of Nahedu.

  A tiny voice in the back of her mind told her that wouldn’t be the way of things. Whatever that creature was, it was real, and it would be more of a threat to the existence of their people than Emakai would ever have been. Right now they needed to get away and to the safety of their home. From there they could determine what the beast was and how to destroy it. Victory had to be possible. She refused to accept the nagging fear that this creature would be the end of her people as she knew them.

  It was easier to remain calm while in the quiet library of her home. Her brother and the Chief were in the main hall discussing events of the battle. Everything happened so fast. The warriors were restless for answers. Talk had already begun to surface through the village about ancient legends long discarded by their people as nothing more than fairy tales. Neomi was one of the most desperate for information. With her family distracted, it was a perfect opportunity to research the stories being spoken around town. She recalled the details only vaguely from her childhood. It was unimportant then. Now it was all she could think about.

  She pored over the old journals written by past chiefs, documenting the events of their generations. Some wrote more than others, their reign better accounted for, leaving little to the imagination. Further into history the men seemed less interested in the quill and ink. Ethrysta was more primitive back then. She was surprised to find anything written at all from the people who existed on their land thousands of years ago. The vellum was heavily aged and in places practically illegible from the wear of the surface and ink.

  An occasional mention of the Ythes was made, though nothing extensive. They were said to guard over something. It was mentioned in passing throughout the pages without any description or hint as to what it might be. Her patience was thinning. The weight of her eyelids becoming impossible to hold, her head drooping forward uncomfortably. She needed to sleep. For days they had fought the Ythes without rest. Since their return to Nahedu the uproar prevented anyone from achieving a decent night’s sleep. That beast was out there. Lurking. No one knew what it was capable of. Although they weren’t a race prone to fear, no one could argue the validity of such an emotion in regards to something like this.