Life

by Rosie Scott

  The ax was thrown a moment later, swirling through the air with the slick ringing of its deadly momentum.

  Thunk!

  The camazotz screamed, disoriented by the hit. The throwing ax had sunk just behind the creature's broad skull, the wide blade cut inches deep into the tendons of its neck. It now leaked from the wound, the blood splattering over us as it sought to land.

  Shink! Altan's chain still hung from the beast's foot, and the heavy steel hit the Sentinel in the head as the bat glided to the ground.

  “Gah! It's not my day today,” Altan muttered, grabbing his head while pursuing the beast.

  The camazotz finally landed in a whirlwind of air, whimpering low as it pulled its massive body toward the tunnel which led back to the underground. The scraping of Altan's steel chain followed along behind it. A death bomb was thrown by Cerin, and a thick black fog lifted from the creature and imploded back into the necromancer's chest. The beast still did not fall, too strong to immediately succumb to the spell. Under a new leeching high, Cerin rushed forward with his scythe, swinging the massive blade toward the left leg, deepening the cut he'd made before. The bat jerked in pain before the scythe was pulled back once more, before it rushed toward the leg with a vengeance.

  One muscular haunch separated from the beast's body a second later, lying heavily on the ground in a growing puddle of blood. The camazotz was left unbalanced, falling toward its left side at the mercy of its missing limb.

  “Cerin! The wing!” Uriel rushed forward with his spear leading him, three bloodied bladed points directed at the muscular arm which supported the flesh of its right wing. The weapon impaled the wing a moment later, the wrist of the bat ripped and supported between two of the spear's steel spikes.

  The camazotz was weakening, and though it tried to tug its wing free, Uriel kept it still. The beast was nearly flat to the ground with both fatigue and the lack of its limb, so Cerin decided to jump up on its back to get to the humerus of its wing. Staying steady on the fur of its back with two thick boots, my lover raised the scythe high above his head, the metal of the weapon glimmering in the firelight of the still burning flesh of the creature's other side.

  Cerin screamed with the exertion of his leeching high, and the scythe was sliced through both air and bone. The camazotz screeched as its humerus cracked under pressure. Keeping the scythe stuck in the break, Cerin put both hands on the handle and ripped the weapon back, separating bone from bone.

  The flesh of the wing tore roughly as it fell at the mercy of its own weight. Exhausted and heavily wounded, the camazotz fell forward, its head crashing to the stone. Kirek ran ahead without a word, slicing through the neck of the giant bat over and over again with her magnificent axes, not stopping until the head of the beast fell heavily into a puddle of its own matter.

  Cerin breathed thickly as he jumped from the beast's back, using the matted fur to quickly clean the majority of the blood from his scythe. Azazel went to work retrieving his arrows from the beast's flesh, and Dax pulled his throwing ax from the break in its neck. Altan unwrapped his heavy chain from the leg, cursing the entire time because even his weapon was covered in urine.

  “Kai,” Altan breathed, walking toward me drenched in yellow. “Ya mind?”

  I grimaced at the stench radiating from the Sentinel and started to build water in my palms.

  “Sorry I stink,” he offered with a small smile.

  “Not any worse than you normally do,” I retorted, to which he chuckled. I sprayed the water over him a moment later, and he turned around as I did so, trying to clean himself off as best as he could.

  Drenched but cleaner, Altan turned toward the tunnel we had initially come through. “Well, that was fun. Gotta get this tunnel collapsed unless we want more of them coming up, though.”

  “Perhaps we could turn the tunnel into a trading route,” Cyrus suggested, pointing toward the low glow of the bioluminescent fungi in the depths. “Surely this path leads to somewhere near Hazarmaveth. If it doesn't connect directly, we could have the miners dig through.”

  Kirek stared at the other Sentinel as if he were crazy. “Don't be ridiculous, Cyrus.”

  Cyrus returned her glare. “How is that being ridiculous? We will be working with the Alderi in Hammerton. We might as well work with them here.”

  “The queen does not want them here,” Kirek retorted. “We have already opened the border. Both Scirocco and Tal have been infiltrated with Alderi from the wildlands. Now you're suggesting we invite them right into Mistral?” Kirek pointed a bloodied ax toward the underground. “This is close enough.”

  My teeth ground together at Kirek's hostility. My best friend was Alderi. My former best friend was Alderi. I'd known and loved too many of them not to be hurt by such a mentality. To make matters worse, Azazel was quiet beside me, listening to such bias being spewed before his ears despite how hard he'd fought for Eteri the past few years.

  “Infiltrated?” I questioned tersely, my golden eyes observing Kirek carefully.

  “What?” Kirek glanced at me, confused.

  “You said the Alderi infiltrated two settlements.”

  “Yes. And they have,” Kirek said briskly. “You were in Tal mere moons ago. Surely you remember how many were there.”

  “Oh, I was there. I saw the Alderi there. My problem is with your wording.” I hesitated. “Infiltrated suggests hostile intent, Kirek, and the Alderi were invited here to trade for the benefit of both Eteri and the wildlands.”

  Kirek's nostrils flared. “How are we supposed to know the Alderi don't have hostile intent? They come from a nation of assassins, Kai. I would sooner trust a Seran.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “Oh, well, I'm so glad to hear that, Kirek. Why don't we discuss trusting Serans? It's possible we have one here.”

  Kirek blinked at me a few times. “I place little value on trust. You and I work very differently. Fighting alongside those you love and trust will only slow you down. You were late arriving in Mistral after the Battle of Highland Pass, Kai. Do you think this went unnoticed? You took a vacation away from this war—”

  “A vacation?” I took another step toward her. “A fucking vacation? Is that what you think I did?” My voice thickened as memories of the deaths of Jakan and Anto flooded my mind. “I was burying my friends, Kirek. Be grateful you have no friends to bury.”

  “Many were buried after that battle, but you put this war on hold for two.” Kirek's glare did not falter.

  “Kirek, for gods' sake,” Altan interrupted, putting a hand between us both.

  Kirek's stare switched to Altan. “And you rush to the defense of the outsider, Altan.” Kirek looked back to me. “This is why I place little value in trust. Loyalties are easily swayed.”

  “I have never had any loyalty to you,” Altan retorted.

  “As it should be,” Kirek replied coolly, backing up from Altan's outstretched arm to put her axes back on her belt. “Your loyalty belongs with Eteri and our queen. Not with a Seran with the blood of the gods.”

  Altan's jaw tensed as he gritted his teeth. “This god and another god are the reasons we are still here at all, Kirek. Eteri would be overrun with Icilic at this point if it weren't for them.”

  “Does your faith in your country truly falter so badly?” Kirek retorted.

  Altan's nostrils flared, but before he could think of a retort, Uriel jumped into the conversation. “Perhaps we should get moving. We all have much to do. The last thing we need to do is argue.”

  Kirek nodded at Uriel. “Correct. I will inform the queen of our findings here. This tunnel should be collapsed immediately.” With a quick glance at Dax, she spun on her heel, and her protege followed her back through the tunnels.

  The rest of us were quiet for some time as we finished cleaning up what we needed to. In the time since our victory against Glacia, the other Sentinels and I had been trying our best to gauge Altan's perspective on the way things were going in this war. Our plans for future assassination a
ttempts on Queen Tilda's life had not yet been divulged to him. I could now understand why Cyrus and Uriel had waited for so many years to tell Altan about their plan. As much as he enjoyed working with my Seran Renegades and disliked much of Tilda's rule, he'd never once expressed any serious signs of dissent.

  “You expressed missing Nyx,” I spoke up to Altan, taking the opportunity to broach the subject with him. “Does it bother you that she was an assassin?”

  Altan glanced over at me as he looped his chain around to hang from his belt. “She was an assassin, Kai. She's not one anymore. People can move on from their pasts. Don't let Kirek get to you.” He nodded toward Azazel. “The Alderi are clearly as varied individually as any race. I don't have any issues with working with them in Hammerton if they show.” He spoke of the fact that despite my letter to Calder, I had not yet received a response. It was currently unknown whether the underground would support us in Hammerton or not.

  “If the Alderi show, many of them will still be assassins,” I pointed out.

  Altan shrugged. “Different fighting styles for different people, I guess.”

  “Is that distaste?” I questioned casually. Cyrus and Uriel were both quiet nearby.

  “A little bit, maybe. I'm not a fan of sneaking about. It's weak if you ask me.” Altan grinned at me, oblivious to any underlying intentions to my questions. “I like to attack with force, Kai. Like you. Two peas in a pod, we are.”

  I smiled and nodded, though I decided to ask, “What if you couldn't, Altan?”

  “Couldn't what?”

  “Attack with force. Whether due to circumstances or a lack of resources. If you were king, for example, and you couldn't take a country on in all-out war.”

  Altan chuckled. “If I couldn't take it on, I'd play nice until I could.”

  “So you wouldn't turn to the Alderi.”

  “Not for anything other than sex,” Altan commented, before another laugh. “I fight my own battles, Kai. You've been outnumbered in this war for years, friend, and you've done nothing but flourish.” He patted me on the shoulder. “Deep down in the blackest parts of that little heart of yours, I think you like being against insurmountable odds.” He pointed at himself with a bronzed finger. “So do I. Makes me all giddy inside. I like going up against great odds and coming out of it the victor. Why let someone else take the glory?” He lifted a red eyebrow up at me in humored question.

  Our group slowly made our way out of the Mistral mines. Despite my talk with Altan, I felt I was no closer to the answers I desperately wanted. I had grown to befriend Altan just as much as Cyrus and Uriel over the last few years, but the possibility of our paths separating at the end of the Hammerton takeover was too large to ignore. As if to make matters worse, Kirek had been so distrusting of the other Sentinels that I wondered if she'd found a new reason to be.

  Two

  83rd of New Moon, 425

  “I appreciate you taking the time to talk with me.” A bronzed hand was stretched out before me, and I shook it. “My name is Iri. I have been a scribe for nearly three centuries. I assure you that my writings are accurate.” The man nodded toward the comfortable plush seats in the room, and Cerin, Azazel, and I all settled down as Iri closed the door behind us. “Tell me, what brings you to Tal?”

  “Ah, well,” I started, settling back into a chair between Cerin and Azazel, “the Seran Renegades currently have four members. One of them has stayed here for the past few seasons to design and build new battleships. The giants would not fit on the galleons.”

  “Maggie Roark,” the scribe commented, nodding. “She used to work for our queen.”

  “Yes. She wasn't treated well by Tilda.”

  Iri lifted one eyebrow up, surprised by me admitting that.

  “I told you I would be honest with you, Iri,” I commented.

  “You did,” he agreed, pulling a small table toward his own chair and dipping a quill into an inkwell, before bringing it back to the parchment which sat in a stack on his lap. “Why don't we start from the beginning, Miss Sera? Tell me about the events which led to the forming of your rebellion.”

  The early morning sun traveled slowly across the sky outside of the windows as I relayed the events of the past eight and a half years to the scribe. Cerin chimed in from time to time to add things I'd forgotten. For the most part, Azazel was quiet but curious, listening to all of the memories I had that he hadn't been a part of. He knew most of it, of course, since our time together was often filled with us exchanging stories. Azazel was the greatest friend I could have asked for during the past few years of loss and heartbreak, and while we were often teased for being inseparable, I wouldn't have had it any other way.

  When it came time to talk about the Underground Liberation of 420, I quieted to let Azazel speak about the takeover of Hazarmaveth. After all, our success was due primarily to him.

  “Kai and I went together,” he told the scribe. “I needed my arrow imbued by her fire magic to cause the explosion. Most of her spells aren't silent, though, and she could barely see in the dark. It didn't stop her from trying to protect me when I was overwhelmed in the first apartment building.”

  Iri held up a finger to interrupt. “The Seran Renegades were the cause of the spread of elemental magic in the underground,” he said, looking back to me.

  “Yes,” I agreed.

  “And you said that the Alderi most predisposed to fire magic had red eyes, correct? That would insinuate there were soldiers with you who knew fire magic other than Kai.”

  Azazel nodded. “There were quite a few. The Alderi tend to be predisposed to death and water magic most of all, but we had fire mages with us as well.”

  “Was there another reason you needed Kai with you, in particular?” Iri questioned. “If you had brought an Alderi fire mage with you, surely they could have seen in the dark without resorting to illusion magic. Did you leave something out of the plan?” The scribe quickly read through what he'd written so far as if searching for something we'd left out.

  A small smile lifted my lips as I looked over to Azazel. I'd never thought about such a thing all those years ago, but Azazel's insistence that I come with him during those plans felt humorously suspicious now. The archer appeared somewhat embarrassed as he finally said, “I wanted Kai with me.” After a pause, he added, “In particular.”

  Iri glanced up. “In case you needed healing?”

  “No. Because I felt drawn to her.” Azazel scrunched up his nose as he heard me stifle a chuckle. When the scribe only frowned at Azazel, he continued, “I'd spent decades stewing about in anger and envy. Something about her calmed me.”

  “You seem to cause different people to feel very different emotions,” the scribe commented, smiling softly at me. “Many fear you. Many don't know what to make of you. Many look up to you.”

  I reached over to pat Azazel's shoulder. “It's a matter of perspective, Iri.” I refocused my gaze on the scribe. “Life is not a storybook. There are no heroes or villains. Only people from different backgrounds and with different opinions.” I moved my golden eyes out the window, where I could see a number of Alderi beastmen walking through the grassy streets of Tal. “The Alderi tend to like me because I had a hand in the underground's liberation. The Icilic hate me because of my hand in the Great Glacial Flood. The Naharans adore me for my magic work there. The dwarves fear and loathe me, but I look to be fair in this game of war during our time in Hammerton. Regardless...” I looked back to Iri. “Every person in Arrayis's history who has ever accomplished anything had supporters and detractors. In that sense, I am no one special.”

  “Perhaps,” the scribe replied, still in the midst of writing down my words. “But you are changing the world in ways no one has gotten the chance to yet, Miss Sera.”

  My eyes fell to the parchment as he wrote on it. “I can only change the world in that sense if I fight for my own reasons and worry not about what others think of me.” I chuckled softly before I added, “I think of it this wa
y, Iri: I once was young and naive and had never seen battle, and I had the gods after me and my own father hiring assassins to kill me. I had few friends, but many enemies. Ever since starting this war, I have many enemies, but also many friends. I figure I am in good company.”

  Iri chuckled. “That is an optimistic outlook.”

  The scribe continued to write down the history of the war. Within a few hours, he asked me about the Battle of Highland Pass and our casualties there. Even though it had been two and a half years, I still felt heartbreak when I thought back to it.

  “Anto Erikur and Jakan Yair were their names,” I told him, my eyes resting on a small potted plant the scribe kept on a stone side table. “They were both great friends, and they were in love. They had both been Seran Renegades since we were formed back in 418.”

  “Both Seran natives, like you?” Iri questioned.

  “No. Anto was a half-breed. Orc and Celd. He escaped his tribe from the Cel Mountains and moved to Nahara, where he met Jakan. Jakan was full-blooded Vhiri but had lived in Nahara for most of his life.”

  “Why did they join you?”

  “Because I saved Anto's life,” I murmured. “He was a gladiator. Strongest man I'd ever known. The most humble person you'd ever meet. He was enslaved for a time. Anto took great pride in our underground takeover.”

  Iri nodded. “That makes sense. And Jakan?”

  “Jakan was really nervous and withdrawn when we first met him,” I said, overcome with nostalgia. “He was without Anto. After the Battle of the Gods, Anto was freed. Then Jakan was the happiest and most energetic person I'd ever known.”

  “He was like a kid,” Cerin spoke up with a nostalgic smile. “Always laughing, joking, running around.”

  “How did they die?” Iri questioned.

  The abrupt question made my breath catch in my throat. “Jakan was a casualty of my own spell,” I murmured.

  Iri shook his head sadly. “I'm sorry for your loss. Friendly fire is always heartbreaking.”