Fallen Warrior (Fallen Trilogy book 3)

by Williams, Tess

  I was sick, though, for Luffie. For the Warriors. For Cole. Cole, oh how horrid I'd been. But I was sick, because I wasn't clear at all whether they could survive against so many, one after another. I'd waited, until just before it seemed the Tortoises would succeed at crashing through the front gate. I thought that time of chaos would be best. Luffie had been long gone, by then, up in the skies after Yurei, happy to help protect him. Happy, why yes, hadn't she been very happy when I'd told her that I meant to stay on the ground with Cole. She'd showed me images at first, of soldiers being beaten, being struck there down in the crowds. She'd showed me those times that we'd lost each other in battle, and those poor results come from them. But hadn't I showed her then, yes I'd showed her Cole and I standing back from the battle altogether, with one of those launchers of the Democedians', launching explosives, not going near the fighting at all. I'd argued that I would be needed, back where the rulers might be able to reach me. So, then she'd been pleased, more than pleased. I'd told something similar to the Warriors. Lucian and Gael, both, at least, had kept their mouths shut well when I'd said I would stay with Cole, and there'd be nothing else about it. Don't speak with him of it, I'd warned. If you do, you'll move him over to your view, and I wouldn't be able to fight there.

  It was perfect anyways, since Gael would need help guiding that giant Wyvern on; I was glad Luffie would be gone with him. It was so much easier in any case, even now as I pressed to a wall, grayed out gold all around me, pressed to a wall in those streets of the palace district. It was so much easier keeping my mind locked off from her if she was away; she wasn't gone yet, I could sense that at least. But she was busy, she was busy, her mind crowded by Gael and Yurei's thoughts, fully. I connected with her routinely, as I'd promised, only to show her sharp images I'd trained to mind. Standing back by the catapults, far from the walls, beside the tortoises. Laughing peacefully beside Cole, on some rooftop while we launched one of Vartus's explosives. Was laughing too much? No, I didn't think so—for by the make of Luffie's thoughts, the battle was going well. Yurei was in fierce search of that largest wyvern, but Luffie struck down with a bolt, each moment she got the chance, and didn't her bolts do so much good against that Akadian armor. I reveled in it, even as I hated it. How many of those soldiers were of Shaundakul. Not many, according to Lox, they'd been obstinate, but I'd heard a name. Slark. Lieutenant Slark, under Lox's battalion. Could it have been my Slark, Slark of Shaundakul, or rather, Cyric's Slark, I would call him. I hoped not, but if it was, I would not have much pity in my heart for him. I would not have pity in my heart, this day, for anyone that had hurt Cyric. I would not have pity for Lox. And if I should see Kraehe, I did not know what I would do.

  That was the only catch in my plan. She was. That was, in part why I'd waited. I knew, I knew how possible it was that I could go mad if I saw her, so everyone kept telling me. I hoped, even hoped as well, that there was still a chance I might see her, and then connect with her, and if there was damage in her mind, that I could heal it. If that was, if I could have Kraehe back, if it was to save her... I would have given up on my mission to kill Lox. Even wanting to get vengeance, even though I was the only one which could, with my powers. I wouldn't have gone if Kraehe had come. But she hadn't. And I hadn't felt her; I still didn't. She was gone, gone as ever. She was dead, certainly dead. I hadn't felt it, as I hadn't back in Shaundakul, when she'd supposedly been killed. But that didn't mean everything. How long had I left her alone? She was dead. I could not feel her. I could never feel her again. Now I meant to make sure that Lox would never be felt by anyone again—all of his evil, gone.

  I meant to kill him. I would kill him so fiercely that he would wish he had never lived.

  These palace streets, as soon as I'd passed those soldiers clogging the district gate, they'd cleared quite a bit. One or two, three or four, would race along up or down them every few minutes, and I suspected these were those transporting Lox's orders. There were others, on the roofs, launching out large contraptions, launching small things. Every so often a chimera would pass, or an Echrian Bird, dropping destruction down upon them. But now that I was within sight of that place where the palace had once been, it seemed utterly secluded to me. I was alone—whether I was or not in this city of thousands, that's how it seemed.

  I knew that to my right, through a short maze of turns, was that place that had been Cyric's home. Oh, how I would love to return to those days. Let me be a captive again, and let me love him better, and believe him better. Let me kiss him more, till he knew without doubt that he was goodness from head to toe to fingertips.

  Further ahead, then, to the right, I could see it. I could see that building of Lox's. I started racing for it, even in my whispering state. Racing with those thoughts that had been crowding my mind. I thought: why hadn't I come sooner after all? Why hadn't I come when I'd told Minstrel that I should? Why hadn't I come to kill him? —wouldn't that have been better for the war?

  I wasn't sure, I thought I might have. I thought I would have, before now, if only Cole hadn't come. There was something that had been about him.... oh, well. I would have been killed surely, if I'd come before; now, at least, I had that chance to live. Probably not, but maybe so, and then I could do my duty, couldn't I? I would be a princess. I would be a queen. I would lead my people back to Shaundakul.

  Oh no, a voice inside me cried. Oh no, not without Cyric, you could not.

  No, I could not. I agreed. So I was good for nothing. I was good only for killing Lox, so I would do so—perhaps nothing else, but I would do that.

  The door, the hall was there, just before me. It wasn't a large thing, but it had been left ajar. Even as I crept up to the steps preceding it and tried to peek inside, a soldier came leaping from the doors, then another. They leapt right through me. I shifted aside in fright, only to realize then, that it wouldn't matter. Then with that same energy of shock, I pushed myself through the door. This hall was thin; nothing that seemed it could account for the massive size of the building from the outside, that sun-reflecting window which faced off its back.

  The hall took a turn, and then another. There were torches lit. Another soldier raced by me. I worried this time, how many might be there, inside with Lox, if he even were there. But I didn't have to handle them, did I? I could just come up behind him. My swords were at my belt. My Cirali sword, and my Byakoan one. I kept them disappeared with little enough effort. I could come up behind him, draw my sword, and stab downwards; be done with it. Would I be remorse, not to duel him? Yes, I would, surely I would. But that was secondary to my purpose. Lox needed to die. How much better the battle might go if he died; or worse, it could be worse, soldiers rallying at the loss of him—hadn't Baraduce mentioned that when someone had suggested to attempt his assassination first? That's why they'd not planned it, in the end; and simply since, it wasn't the way which battles were done. But, I, I didn't care. I knew what might happen if I didn't kill him when I could. I knew how slippery he was; he could escape. What if he escaped with Kraehe—if she were alive after all? I would die, die twice over to watch that. To think he might torture her the length of his days, and hers. I'd surely die.

  There it was, some small room, and beyond, I could hear the rush of voices, even on past my whispering ears. But then it happened, that I flashed out of disappearing. I cursed, vanishing straight off again, but clashing against the wall of the entryway, in case my powers failed again. I was failing; I was failing like that day I had on the field of Karatel. No, I couldn't now! Had I lost my control, had I let Luffie see where I was, that second I'd come visible? I couldn't be sure. I reached for her mind—no, she was gone with Gael, after a goblin. They'd found him. He wore a crown; a many-jeweled crown, well, then he loved spoils, didn't he? Luffie was delighted with the prospect of success, but displeased to lose her chance at shooting off more bolts. They were going away. They were going to that nearby place we'd set the goblins' first pledge of spoils.

  Brilliant Cole! I thought. Bu
t only a second, then I saw soldiers racing towards me, then past me to the room. They were shouting things inside, about confusion in the streets. About orders to surrender. I heard a roaring shout, like some monster, from within, and I knew. I knew. I knew just in that second for sure.

  Lox is inside that room.

  The man who killed Cyric is inside that room.

  The man who killed Kraehe.

  The man who destroyed my home, and everyone I'd loved, or known.

  Everything went silent inside of my mind. All those thoughts, which had been plaguing me, were gone. I knew only that thing.

  I pushed up from the wall; I felt weakness in it, even as I did so. You're not a strong man, like Cyric, it said, you're only a woman. Well, Cyric was gone. He was gone. Lox had done it.

  I could hear my own breathing, steadily. I saw brilliant golden shining light in front of me, shining through a blue tapestry. It had a silver dragon emblazoned on it; it was the tapestry from our great hall in Shaundakul, wasn't it? And Lox had taken it here. Cyric had been here—how many times, and since when? Had he seen it? Had he missed home?

  I heard a shout, and a slammed fist, cracking wood. I looked below this tapestry to see a man there, massive as two men put together. His hand, I thought automatically. That hand, slammed onto the table. That other, pointing at those soldiers. One of those hands was enough to reach around my neck fully. I'd felt one around my wrists; I'd felt it bruising, and how easily it could crack the bone beneath.

  He wore full-plate armor, golden armor; like in that dream I'd had in the caves of dreams of nightmares. No, like in that nightmare; that had been the part of the nightmare. But over it, he wore a tabard of red. And then a sword, sheathed into his belt. He was the same, great fright, as he had been in the woods outside of Shaundakul—when Cyric had been fighting those men so bravely and I'd just been standing there screaming like a child, and Lox had come to put a sword to my neck. The only difference was the gold; he'd been wearing silver plate, that day.

  It didn't matter. I could see shadows moving past the glass. I watched Lox slam his hand, palm backwards, towards the door, towards me, with a deafening shout, and so his soldiers turned. Just two of them, dressed in light gear to manage quick running. The other three there were, stayed flanking Lox. They wore black and were heavily armored. Like shadows behind him.

  But those light-geared two, they jumped up quickly to race after his orders. What had he said? "Go correct it. Stop them from retreating. Kill Slark. Kill all my Lieutenants." My Slark? Cyric's? But I didn't have a chance to decide, it was only a passing thought. For as soon as the two soldiers had turned, even as they'd come to a sliding stop for their speed, they looked directly at me. They looked, with wide eyes. They looked me up and down.

  I did not need to look down as well for myself. I was invisible no longer. I recognized that light that came to men's eyes when they saw me. I could see the colors vividly all ahead. The red walls. The stone floor. The wide pillars, off to the sides, mosaic stone. The short steps, circling forward. The brown wood of the tables, and Lox's strewn maps—where he'd been slamming his fists. The gold to his plate-mail. I'd been appeared well for a while, hadn't I? And I could see his eyes. I could see that blackness, and brown, that seemed to suck light in. And I could see the wetness to his eyes, like slime, or something perpetually amusing to him; something perpetually invigorating for him, so that it turned his eyes wet with delight, or with hunger, or with certain hope of getting always what he meant to.

  Now, weren't they wet with anger? Wasn't that fury there, like a fire, deep within? But it changed, falling to me, after that shout of his soldiers. Not Warrior, Princess. And then another echo, Dracla.

  This made me gasp short, loosing Lox's gaze, looking to the soldier. Just for saying Cyric's name? How foolish I was.

  The soldier's eyes widened, as well, meeting mine. Wasn't it not hatred I saw there in his eyes? Men didn't like to kill women; they liked to keep them; even the worst sorts. And then the best, liked to rescue them. Wasn't that closer to what was there in this soldier's gaze?

  "MOVE!" I heard shouted, like a fury. A sound so deafening, it shook my body. "Move past her. Go to the soldiers. Leave the girl be."

  This was all Lox's command. And there was no pause following it. The two soldiers pushed past me, the one didn't even pause to glance back, they moved around me through the door, and without touching me—but still, I was so frightened that I jerked off towards the right. I jerked back against the wall. I had my hands pressed there. I felt frightened after all. I hadn't drawn my swords. Wasn't it meant, that Cyric should be here?

  "Have you come to kill me, princess?" I heard next. "Or are you here to plead?"

  My gaze refocused onto Lox. There was something to those words, that last one especially. He was amused? No, he was mad. He was smiling, there, in front of me. He was smiling, though I knew for certain, I knew by Luffie, that he would lose. The weight of keeping her out was lessened. She was gone away.

  He shoved papers, off onto the ground, even as he moved to step around the table. He was about to open his mouth to speak, but I wouldn't let him.

  "I've come," I choked out. "I've come to kill you."

  He froze. But those three soldiers around him, they drew their swords. They took a step each, towards me, in front of Lox. They weren't like the others then, distracted to saving me; these had helmets. I couldn't see them. I wouldn't be able to move past them. Were my powers coming to me, again, at all? Yes, I could feel the strength of them. I could reach past them. I could kill Lox, anyways. They would kill me afterwards; that wouldn't matter.

  But then the strangest thing happened—as Lox put his hand up to halt them. "No, no, you understand nothing," he said. For me? Or for them? His tone was something far beyong calm. "We've lost, the princess, knows it. But she's come to do something important."

  No, I was wrong; his tone wasn't calm. It was enraged, it was frightening. He was insane.

  "Leave," he called next.

  It was so simple, even laced in some venomous hiss behind it.

  I stepped forward, straight off, my chest high and tight now, prepared to tell him that I wouldn't go—then his voice, came out louder.

  "LEAVE!"

  The three soldiers, they moved without pause. I backed up, even blinked in and out of sight, even shifted around back towards the steps, back towards Lox to avoid their attacks, but then they didn't target me at all. They made for the door. They moved right past. Lox had meant the order for them? Not a one glanced back, then "Bolt the door," was shouted.

  Lox again. And so it slammed, shut. The breath went out of me. I was terrified here again. What was he doing. I'd come to kill him. There was a battle. Men would be waiting for his orders. What did he mean, locking me here with him.

  "Can you reach through doors?" he asked. "Princess?" he added, as soon as I'd looked to him. He was around the table. We were separated, only by those short steps, three steps. He had a wild look in his eyes. But then calm. And then not frightened at all. "Can those powers of yours reach through doors?"

  "You've lost!" I countered. "You're locking yourself away now. Do you think that will be enough to keep the Warriors out? You've failed. You're not powerful at all."

  Power, that's what he loved. I knew it. Before, I'd succeeding in angering him, talking about what little power he had, but now, now he only threw his head back, cackling loudly—laughing fully. He'd done that before as well with us alone. He'd done it often.

  "Lost?" he repeated, turning a sharp gaze back down. His head shook. "I haven't lost. I've only just begun. I won't have lost, until I'm dead. It took me less than a decade to amass the largest force known to the lands, in all of history. I've invaded more kingdoms, caused more deaths, than any man who's run this country. Do you think that it matters to me whether I lose Akadia this day?"

  "You won't be able to do anymore. You will die."

  He was shaking his head already, as if predicting thi
s was what I'd say. Oh, why did I feel like a child? Why wasn't I just attacking him? Why wasn't Cyric here, at all? "I won't die, princess of Shaundakul," he said tersely, casually. "I'll leave from here. Your chimera aren't so swift as my mount. I'll leave, and I'll return. Perhaps I'll go to the west. Perhaps the far east; those lands I've not yet touched. But you, princess. You!" He shouted this word, but then madly, he went still, smiling, moving his hands, around in front of him. "I am glad you came to me. You will not leave here. It will be my one amusement. It will be, my victory within this day of tragedy."

  Tragedy! I meant to scoff the word, about to shout it back, pointing to him all the evil, he himself had created. Shouldn't everyone get a chance, before they died, to hear their crimes. And I did mean to kill him, no matter what words he spoke. But then there was no chance for me to—for as soon as he'd spoken, his hands had shot, palms forward in front of him. I hadn't known, for a moment, the point behind it. I'd jerked reflexively, but his fingers had born no weapons. Then I'd seen it. Lighting, like purple sparks, like blackish slivers in the air, coming towards me.

  It was magic. He could use magic! I realized that, only seconds before it struck to me and then I disappeared to nothing, avoiding it. The stone exploded behind me, bursting with a sound that pained my ears, but I only had a second to tell that, then I was forced to disappear again, ducking off again —from the second bout of lightning that he had shot. I'd had to disappear again—but why? I'd meant to remain disappeared. I was too worn from it, after all. How long would I last? I should have taken more care, coming. Only I'd thought, that we might duel blade to blade—as in my dreams—I hadn't known—