Princess Reviled

by Butler, J. M.

  The worst part was the prickly knowledge that Naatos had chosen to attack Libysha again after all she had asked and done. They hadn't even tried to find her either. Which part of that stung more was hard to say, and she thrust it aside, not wanting to consider the implications of the latter. She kept her gaze fastened ahead, ducking her head and bending her shoulders only to avoid low branches or trailing leaves. And when she wondered what had happened to Matthu and the others within Libysha, she pressed the back of her hand to her eyes and forced the tears down. Nothing good came from remaining. They had done without her before, they would do without her again.

  The morning passed slowly. She and the bruins stopped twice for water and medicine, then on again toward the temple. After the sun reached its high point, the temple was at least visible, looming high within the sloping valley.

  The forest continued its winding way toward the temple, never forcing her to leave its shade or risk the open road. The heat formed a haze along the horizon. Occasionally she glimpsed dragons and eagles flying around the towers.

  At last she reached another rise, emerging into the high grasses. Perhaps a couple hours more. But as she crested the next tree-covered hill, she saw an army marching toward the temple.

  Of course. Why wouldn't the Libyshans be attacking now?

  She hoped Matthu was not among them. He deserved better than dying out there in this field. What about all the other young ones though? He was the youngest to be confirmed as an Ayamin but not the only one who was scarcely an adult.

  Stop. She closed her eyes. There was nothing she could do to fix this. If she returned, she would be executed. And if she showed up on the battlefield and faced Naatos…She broke that train of thought off before it could finish.

  If she couldn't stop it, she should stay away. The battle might even make it easier for her to slip into the empty temple and disappear to some far-off place. "Just take care of Matthu and the innocents please, Elonumato. Shon too." Amelia tucked her hair back behind her ear. "Anyone who—" The prayer died on her lips. She didn't know how to finish it.

  The rustling of the wind in the branches and the grass swallowed the silence, and her words faded away. She steered the bruin closer to the trees, giving a slightly wider berth to the oncoming army, though it was unlikely they would even come close to one another. They were marching straight along the downward sloping plain directly toward the temple. Her course would take her behind a small rise of hills to the back wall. With all eyes on the battlefield and preparing for bloodshed, no one would notice her slipping into the Tue-Rah and vanishing forever.

  Time passed slowly. Whether it was her imagination or the sound simply carried on the wind, she heard the marching feet of the oncoming Ayamin. She stayed always within the shadows of the trees, close enough that she could dart inside if anything moved toward her. With each passing hour, the army drew closer to the field and she to the temple. Occasionally the sun broke through the thick low clouds, reflecting off armor and weapons. Bruins and horses served as mounts with the mawnores hopping along beside, their wings folded tight to their backs and their noses twitching. Other than the wings they looked just like enormous red kangaroos, but Amelia wasn't sure how effective they would be in a battle against dragons. Not that bruins and horses stood much of a chance either. Or Awdawms. Though she'd been almost certain that the mawnores in the palace stables were grey and black.

  From time to time, movement stirred within the temple. Occasionally, the ground itself seemed to move in a broad column, the grass twitching and swaying as if something passed beneath it. Then, slowly, hills appeared. Amelia frowned. From this distance, she couldn't tell how big they were for certain, but they had to be at least six, maybe eight feet in height. The tracker eagles continued to soar and screech, dipping close to the aerie and wheeling up into the clouds. An odd reptilian shriek tore through the air.

  Amelia tilted her head back, chills running up her spine. It was similar to a pterodactyl, only throatier, darker. Of course Naatos was probably making something. Lots of somethings. He may have even had other creatures hidden in Polfradon in some of those deep passages.

  Another hill appeared in the field. That made three now.

  The army paused. Amelia stopped as well, her arm resting on her thigh as she squinted at hills. What were those? The army was fairly close now. A single rider could reach the nearest mound within five minutes at a brisk pace. The temple was perhaps ten minutes beyond that. She herself was only minutes away, but she remained well hidden in the brush and leaves.

  The army turned and marched diagonally to the left. They had barely taken twenty strides before the hills all shifted to the left as well. Four more hills appeared. Goosebumps prickled Amelia's arms and neck.

  Once again, the army halted. The horses stamped, shaking their heads as the bruins growled. Their hackles lifted up. The red mawnores remained fixed intently on the temple, their paws tucked against their chests, their black eyes glittering. The army moved now to the right.

  Amelia urged the bruin deeper into the forest coverage, her alarm increasing. If the Libyshans came closer this way, they might catch her. But as she slipped deeper into the shadows and the army drew closer, the hills moved to the right as well. This time six new hills appeared.

  "Stop moving," Amelia muttered.

  The front lines of the army stalled, all the animals except the red mawnores growing more anxious. Amelia calmed her bruin as well. Two more hills appeared. The grass on these mounds was the same color as the high grass, but it was actually much shorter, growing so close it looked more like fur.

  More roars followed. They came, not from the field, but the temple. Two new hills rose near the center of the field. Amelia eyed them, uncertain what creature they could be. Terrifying almost certainly. And most likely not the sources of the reptilian bellowing. That didn't sound like dragons either. Then again, how could she know one of the brothers hadn't turned into some other creature? It was somehow simply clear to her, as clear as if someone spoke it into her head. The names of the creatures danced just outside her consciousness. But when she focused, the dull ache in her temples intensified, blocking further investigation.

  Amelia rested her forehead in her palm, wincing. The physical pain lessened as more bellows rose into the air, rippling outward and upward, stronger and stronger. Four more hills broke through the earth.

  The army returned to its central course. The hills remained the same. Once more the army halted. Five horsemen strode out from the mass. They advanced toward the nearest hill, the leader wielding a spear. The others brandished swords and javelins. Behind them, two dozen Ayamin readied their bows.

  The lead horseman drew closer. The brown gelding snorted and tossed his head but kept a steady pace. Then, as soon as he was within reach, the Ayamin tapped the spear against the hill. Amelia clenched her fist tight. She should be taking advantage of this time to make her own escape, yet she couldn't tear her gaze away.

  The spear sliced into the hill. Everyone tensed. Dark clods crumbled away, but nothing stirred within. The Ayamin stabbed the hill deeper, but this time the spear only went a few inches farther before stopping. The Ayamin thrust the spear in harder. It stopped at the same point.

  Amelia shifted uneasily on the bruin's back.

  A shout rose up. Several of the Ayamin pointed toward the temple. Five more hills had appeared.

  Suddenly a great gong sounded. Its voice reverberated through the air. The ground trembled as the hills turned counter clockwise. Shouting, the small group of Ayamin fell back, their weapons pointed at the one they had been investigating. Dust rose up. Then the plain abruptly shifted, forming broad, deep-stepped terraces that led down from the temple to the center of the field.

  Amelia knotted her fists in the bruin's fur, her own alarm increasing.

  The gong rang out once more. Four dark figures strode out from the temple, cloaks fluttering in the wind. They stopped at the edge of the first step, now elevated seve
ral feet above the army. Even from this distance, Amelia recognized Naatos, WroOth, QueQoa, and a fourth—Amelia's eyes widened. AaQar! The fourth was AaQar, but he'd abandoned his mark of shame. She blinked, shocked at the transformation. Not only had he survived but he had healed. Fully healed himself.

  WroOth stepped to the front, his arms akimbo. "Why so hesitant to enter, Awdawms?" he called out. Though he was in his human form, his voice held the carrying power more similar to his red fire dragon form than his usual state of rest. "You were bold enough to think you could destroy us before. It has been only a day. What has stolen your strength that you're afraid of…" He shrugged, casting his gaze around. "Hills?" Though from this distance Amelia could not be sure, she suspected that the smile playing over his features contradicted any suggestion they shouldn't be afraid. "Come. Show us your strength. You think you can slay and defeat us. We welcome your demonstration. What do you have to lose except your lives? But those were already lost. They were forfeit once you flogged and banished my sister. You were ordered to bring her, were you not? Yet she is nowhere to be found."

  Amelia frowned, surprised at that statement.

  The army did not advance between the hills. What was obviously a trap did not become less of a trap because their enemy mocked them. Someone called something out, but Amelia could not catch the words.

  WroOth tossed his head. AaQar remained impassive and QueQoa stony while Naatos appeared unimpressed. WroOth held up his arms. "This world is mine, and if all I want it for is charcoal, destruction, and ash, then so it shall be."

  "Come now," Naatos barked, his voice cutting even stronger through the air. "Enough of this stalling. Either enter the battlefield or the battlefield comes to you. Your end is now. Delorme, tyrannoks, attack!"

  The ground shook as the hills broke apart. Shrieking creaking roars resounded as enormous stag beetles with reptilian jaws and massive bone frills emerged. Louder shrieks, the ones Amelia had heard earlier, called and echoed within the clouds, swooping closer.

  40

  Charge

  Amelia's eyes widened as five pterosaurs emerged from the clouds. Their coral beaks were speckled in black and beige, thick overlapping scales hugging their muscular forms. Scythe-like claws protruded from their wings. Their beady red eyes were set deep within their skulls, and they circled over the army as the hills continued to erupt with more beetle-reptile hybrids.

  Shouts of panic rose over the orders of the elder commanders. Dozens of Ayamin surged forward to defend the small group under attack from the tyrannoks. The mawnores leaped forward, the bruins charged, the beetles roared, the pterosaurs swooped. Two of the war mawnores jumped up, easily clearing twenty feet each. They leaned back and lashed out with their massive feet, striking the pterosaurs in the sides. The pterosaurs screeched and snapped, reeling in the sky before catching the current again. The other war mawnores pummeled the beetles' sides.

  Naatos and his brothers only watched.

  Amelia bit her lip hard. There wasn't anything she could do here. The battle was only going to get worse. The mass of men and beasts crushed in around the tyrannoks. The tyrannoks mowed through the gathered warriors. Though they were knocked back by the spear line and the pummeling of the war mawnores or the slashings of the bruins, the tyrannoks moved ever forward. The archers clustered in protected groups and directed their arrows between the tyrannoks and the pterosaurs, melee-armed warriors surrounding them to fend off the beasts as the spearmen and javelin throwers attacked the tyrannoks.

  The Ayamin brought down one of the pterosaurs. It crashed into the earth, its beak driving deep into the ground. The pterosaurs adjusted their attack patterns, shooting up into the clouds and vanishing from sight. The tyrannoks bowled forward, hunching down and snarling when confronted and thrust back, then forcing their way forward again.

  Amelia winced. Her shoulders clenched tighter and the horror of the battle seeped deeper and deeper into her soul. What was she supposed to do though? What could she do aside from make things worse? Battles and wars happened all the time. Countless beings suffered and died every day. This was beyond her abilities.

  Tearing her gaze away, Amelia urged the bruin forward. Yes. This wasn't her fight. It wasn't as if she could do anything. Naatos was determined to have vengeance, and his brothers were as set as he. As far as the Libyshans, what could she really do? They hadn't listened to her or the Machat before. They'd had their chance and wasted it dozens of times over. This was the consequence of that. People couldn't be saved from the consequences of their actions.

  Still, she cringed at the screams and yells. She hunched her shoulders, keeping her gaze straight ahead so that she didn't have to watch the slaughter.

  Dragon roars ripped through the thick air. Twisting around, Amelia glimpsed WroOth and QueQoa mid-transformation. They leaped into the air and bolted forward. Flames flowed from their mouths, grazing over the tops of the tyrannoks. AaQar's body lengthened and shifted into the large green serpent with jagged frills. He swooped into the nearing crowd, knocking the Ayamin off the steppes. Yet none of them cast their flames or venom directly against the Ayamin. Naatos waited until his brothers had reached halfway into the army, then he too roared. The bellow started visceral and deep before transitioning into a mind-piercing cacophony like shredding metal and dragons. His body transformed, becoming larger, tentacles sprouting from his head. Two extra arms grew from his chest as welts and spine-tipped feathers erupted from his body. Yellow eyes emerged in the now over-sized skull. Then the black and grey teeth broke through the jaw, slicing at unnatural angles along the mouth.

  Fear spasmed through Amelia, returning her to vivid and horrifying memories of her escape from the palace. The old memories surged in, overlaying themselves in her mind's eyes. The terror. The loneliness. Clinging desperately to Uncle Joe, then learning he wanted her to go alone. She clenched her eyes shut and shook her head fiercely. "No!" she cried out. She ducked her head down, panting.

  That was then, this was now. She had been helpless before. Incapable of doing anything more than watching and running the other direction. But now…The throbbing in her head intensified. She tightened her muscles and forced the images away.

  Another bellow rose from the battlefield. It wasn't going to stop here. Even if Naatos and his brothers did leave after this battle, they would almost certainly take steps to ensure more havoc was wreaked throughout Reltux.

  And it wasn't true that she could do nothing.

  Amelia forced her head up. There was one thing she could do. The problem was just she didn't know what would come after. Then again, when had that ever been a problem for her in the past?

  "Crespa," Amelia muttered. She removed her gun, checked the ammo, and holstered it in her sash. Useless or not, she couldn't slip into the Tue-Rah and disappear into some far-off place. She had the choice, but leaving without doing what she could wasn't her.

  She directed the bruin toward the battlefield and the nearest steppe. Taking out the flask, she drained the last of the medicine. She cast it back into the satchel and leaned forward over the bruin's dark hump. "Kali kalum!" she shouted. With a snorting growl, the bruin charged toward the battle.

  * * *

  Matthu had braced himself for monsters, mostly of the dragon type. Astride his bruin seven lines back, he hadn't been able to see over the taller Ayamin and war mawnores. But the strange things they said unnerved him. Hills appearing and moving. When WroOth had challenged them, his nerves tightened.

  Regardless of what the Machat said, he doubted he would survive. At least not without a miracle, but he prayed that if there were going to be miracles today, he wouldn't be the only survivor. Maybe something would happen, and the battle wouldn't continue.

  He strained to see as best he could, bracing himself. On the bruin's back, the shield fastened above his undertunic pinched even more, the added strings to keep it secure itching through the thin fabric. If that was the worst injury he got this day, he'd be lucky. What made it
all the worse was this was his first true battle without his brother. Even if they weren't paired with one another, they had been near at hand. Except of course when Naatos killed Shon.

  Guilt spun tight in Matthu's stomach. If he'd been there, he'd have just gotten killed himself. Yet the feeling remained. He hated what Shon had done, but he missed him now. Could he even complete this fight without his brother? He was alone in this army. All were essentially strangers to him now, and he was probably going to die.

  That was the last thought that went through his mind before chaos erupted and the Ayamin around him surged forward. He barely glimpsed the enormous green maw of a strange creature before large winged beasts swooped down from the sky. They were unlike anything he had ever seen, utterly disproportioned in form with beady eyes sunk deep in the obtusely triangular head. Two war mawnores sprang up. They landed solid kicks to one of the creature's sides and sent it spinning through the air.

  Everything blurred around him. He scarcely kept his wits collected enough to dig deeper into the stirrups as his bruin charged. Somehow there were tyrannoks. More creatures straight out of their nightmares and mythology.

  Some instinctual mechanical part of his mind took over, propelling him forward over the bruin's hump and down against its large neck as one of the winged creatures seared too close. Its heavy beak clattered near his head. Then, all at once, the army moved. Clusters of Ayamin surrounded the tyrannoks. Archers had taken formation. It was as if time had skipped over. His bruin was in position on the outer flank of a group protecting the archers, but he had no memory of moving there. No memory of drawing his javelin either.

  He swallowed hard, his heart racing faster. Strange shrieks and screams rose around him. Bodies flew as the tyrannoks charged. A red dragon swooped overhead, streaming out long blasts of fire. Another, brown-scaled, circled above. It knocked aside a war kangaroo that went for one of the flying monsters. The air stank of blood, organs, and earth.