Liberate

by Krista D. Ball

  Erem let out a cry of agony at the sight of the man. Panic visibly rose in the knight’s face and he threw his platter of food at Bethany. She side-stepped the splatter of gruel and ran her sword through him as he turned to flee.

  Erem whimpered behind them.

  “Move!” Bethany ordered and took the damp, slick stairs two at a time. “Move!”

  There was silence between them, except for Jovan’s moans and Myra urging Erem onward. As they approached the only exit, two knights crashed in through the wooden door with lanterns. One of them she recognized immediately.

  “Chet, get out of our way or I will kill you.”

  Chet took one look at her face and bolted back through the door, shouting as he went. “Sound the alarm! Intruders!”

  Bethany thrust her sword through the guts of Chet’s companion, who didn’t so much as react fast enough to even get his sword out of his scabbard. She stepped over his body and turned back to survey the scene behind her. Myra was struggling with a weeping Erem. Jonas was leaning against the wall for support. Jovan moaned in pain.

  She looked down at the knight she’d killed. A hot sensation spread through her, chasing out the damp chill from an evening underground. She gripped her other sword that rested at her left hip. In a voice she barely recognized as her own, she asked, “Jonas, do you remember the way to the wharf? Yes or no.”

  “Of course I remember the way to the fucking docks,” Jonas snapped.

  “Then follow me,” Bethany said.

  She kicked the wooden door, and it splintered outward. A high-pitched yelp sounded and Bethany rushed the shadowed figure outside the door. She made quick work of it. Between their position and the wharf was an entire courtyard filled with knights. She could already hear the shouting and see the lanterns flickering in the distance.

  She thought about that courtyard. She’d once stood there against injustice and cruelty, where she took on an entire army in the name of righteousness. She gripped her swords tight and decided, yes, she would do it again.

  Bethany looked over her shoulder at Myra, whose face was etched with terror. “No matter what happens from this point on, you don’t stop until you reach the wharf. Do you understand me?”

  “Don’t start a fight!” Myra pleaded. “Let’s just go.”

  Bethany glanced back at the courtyard. More shouting. More lanterns. To Myra, she said, “Go. Run and don’t stop. Now! Go!”

  Myra squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, but then she opened then, nodded, and tugged Erem closer. “Lord Erem? We have to run now.”

  “He’ll kill you all,” Erem sobbed.

  “Let him try,” Bethany snarled. “Run!”

  Bethany left them and broke into a heart-pounding sprint. She jumped over rubble and took stairs three at a time, her long legs and the Power surging inside her ensuring each step was sure. She didn’t look down at her footing. She simply focused ahead, where the battle was about to be. The surge inside her was preparing her for a fight and by the Wind and Power and Magic, she was going to give it to them.

  The Power inside Bethany knew when she stepped upon the same spot in the courtyard. She felt the stirring of the earth underneath her, the earth that had healed her all those years ago. In elven years, it wasn’t very long. But in her soul, it felt like centuries. So much had happened. So many good people had died. And so much had led to Jud’s rise.

  Rage bubbled inside her. She fueled it with the image of Jovan’s beaten body and Erem’s battered mind. She allowed those memories to slam against her over and over until she felt the Power rise to just below the surface. Then, when she could touch it, she grabbed every last drop of her mother’s Power that she knew how to control.

  Bethany skidded to the middle of the courtyard, where she was one of many in the crowd. She pulled the leather ties from the ends of her braids and shook out her hair to twist in the wind. Let them see her. Let there be no question. She was no Magic user. She was a Goddess of Vengeance.

  “There!” someone shouted at her.

  She pointed her sword at the voice. Flame erupted from the blade and drew a line of fire across the cobblestone. The line flashed into a wall, and voices shouted and cried out in fear. She did the same on her left, until there was just her and the fire that burned so hot her soul couldn’t contain it.

  In a voice that was less hers and more Apexia’s own Power, Bethany shouted into the night, “Jud!”

  The voice of Power inside her fed her rage. It told her over and over what Jud had done to her friends, her sister, and even to herself. It was his fault. It was all his fault. Jud deserved to die. The divine hand would bring justice and vengeance upon them. It would bring the fallible to their knees. The corrupted to their end. The evil to their deaths.

  Bethany blinked past the voice that threatened to take over her mind and will, but she didn’t push it away, either. She could not tell where the edges of her own rage ended and the push of the Power inside her began, but she knew most of what she was feeling was her own.

  Carefully, almost casually, Bethany walked toward the tower entrance where she knew Jud’s study was located. There was a candle in the window. He was awake. He would be. This had all been trap after all. He knew. Her Power knew. In her soul, even she knew. Eventually, this is how it would end. Her coming for Jud.

  “I am coming for you!”

  Bethany’s Power told her feet there was a path of least resistance and she took off into the darkness once more, sprinting at the edge of mortal capabilities, all the while the voice inside her telling her to go faster.

  Three knights stepped in front of her, but she didn’t slow her speed. She ran, flaming swords still in hand, and they jumped out of her way. She kept going, the walls of flames protecting her from the host of knights that would have rushed her.

  Three knights were stationed outside of the entrance. She managed to skid to a halt without falling. “Step aside,” she ordered.

  “Lady Bethany,” the Elorian woman said. “Don’t do this.”

  “Stand down,” Bethany said, warning in her voice.

  The elven man began to pull his sword from its sheath, and Bethany knocked it from his grip. Metal clanged to the cobblestones. “I’m here to kill Jud, not knights. Last warning.”

  There was something in her gut that told her that she’d finally spoken the truth. She was here to kill Jud. She should have known that from the beginning. She was here to gut him and hang him by his intestines from the south retaining wall. As soon as she’d gotten the letter from Jovan, she knew in her heart she’d end up here.

  Bethany stared at the knights in front of her. They were in her way. She tightened her grip, and shifted her weight in preparation to strike. It was then that the third knight, who’d be silent, clobbered the closest knight to Bethany with the pummel of his sword. The man fell to the ground, moaning. He gave Bethany a conspiratorial nod. Bethany glanced at the Elorian knight, but she was pointedly looking in the opposite direction.

  Bethany stepped inside and threw the barrier down over the door, locking it into place. They’d need to kick in the door itself to open it. She stared about the entrance foyer. Knights, priests, and clericals came rushing from all corners, many still dressed for bed. Many had weapons out. She was confident in her skill, but even she knew she could not stop a mob.

  So, she pushed her Power into her voice again, and it echoed in the night air. “I am Lady Bethany, Queen of Taftlin, and I trained most of you. I am here to kill the murderer Jud of Wyllow. Tell me where he is and you will be spared.”

  Fuck. She really needed to be careful about using that voice. When this was over, she was going to spend some time practicing controlling it in the isolated park that surrounded the palace. Or perhaps in the middle of a lake where she couldn’t hurt anyone.

  Her voice caused most of the men around her to freeze. They didn’t attack her. Instead, they stared at her in sheer terror. A couple dropped to one knee. However, from the midst of the shocked gro
up stepped forward one of the old elven clerics. He’d been the one to bring her mail every day. “Upstairs, Lady Bethany. Two floors up, first door on your right. He is waiting for you.”

  She nodded and rushed toward the stairs. She heard shuffling of feet and the slide of weapons around her. She said, without turning, “If you are planning to attack me from behind, be quieter. And move faster.”

  She whirled and lunged at the knight who was attempting, and failing, to sneak up behind her. She held her sword to his throat and said, “Think very, very carefully about your next steps.”

  He dropped his sword and raised his hands out to the side to show he wasn’t armed. She kicked him in the knee. There was an audible pop, and then he fell to the floor in a puddle of pain.

  She took the stairs two and three at a time, shouting Jud’s name the entire time. “Jud! Where are you, you piece of cowardly horse shit!”

  She flung open two doors filled with terrified clerical staff before she found Jud’s. He was in spit and polish armour, not a scratch, not even a food stain on his over tunic. No, he was perfect. The perfect knight who did everything right and would never know the true meaning of right if it slapped him across the face.

  “Apprentice Knight Bethany,” Jud said. “I was wondering when you’d show up. “There is no place for Magic at the Temple of Tranquil Mercies, heretic. Arrest her.”

  In other circumstances, she would have laughed. She wasn’t laughing now. “I’m going to cut you from neck to crotch, and then I’m going to hang you by your entrails from my ship’s masthead.”

  “Colourful,” Jud said. “However, you will do nothing of the kind. I am in command here. Now, gentlemen, arrest her.”

  “Stay out of this,” Bethany said to the other knights in the room. “Only warning.”

  One of the knights pulled his sword from his scabbard. He only got halfway through the motion when Bethany kicked the desk, knocking Jud back into his chair. She’d moved it a full leg’s length and it pinned two of the knights behind it. One dropped his sword in the fright.

  Bethany whirled on the two behind her, swords slashing across both. They were wearing the leaf-shaped scale armour favoured in Wyllow guards; that explained why she didn’t know them. Her strike cut through their clothes, but left them nothing but frightened and bruised. The one guard put his sword out in proper form, but she used her swords to scissor it out of his hands. Then she drove the pummel of one into his chin, and the crushing snap of his jaw breaking sounded through the room.

  She took a hit from the other across the back, which was a weak hit all things considered. She ignored him and used her Power to push the desk against the ones against the wall, pinning them. She turned back to block the sword thrust coming and said, “Run.”

  The guard, to give him credit, dropped his sword and ran. Bethany turned to Jud. Gone was his grinning face. Instead, fear filled his eyes.

  “You see, Lord Jud, you are a knight in name only.” She stepped up on one of the wooden chairs. “You have never fought in a war.” Bethany stepped up on his desk, and stared down at him. “You’ve never even fought in a brawl that wasn’t under proper rules. You don’t know how to defend yourself.”

  “You call yourself a knight but you would attack an unarmed man!” Jud declared.

  Bethany glanced at the men pinned, who were about to push the desk. “Touch this desk and I’ll kick you in the face. Okay, Jud. Pick up the sword your guard dropped.”

  Jud snorted. “So that you can stab me in the back.”

  “I’ll wait,” Bethany snarled. “Pick it up.”

  Jud bent down to grab the knight’s sword that had fallen, never taking his eyes off her. He stood up in a flash, aiming to swipe at her legs. She was prepared for the move, though, and kicked him square in the face with the full force of both her own body and her Power.

  And Jud fell backwards through the stained-glass window behind him.

  ARRAGO WRAPPED HIS cloak around his shoulders and then hurried down the wharf to the courtyard, several of Bethany’s own knights in tow. He’d heard Bethany’s shouts all the way down there, far beyond where a normal voice could carry. Not with the ocean’s dull roar next to them. She’d promised him she wasn’t there to fight. She’d been the one to say over and over they weren’t there to fight. But lo and behold, here she was...trying to start a fight.

  Two arrows whizzed overhead. Arrago sighed and corrected his thoughts: she’d already started a fight.

  He kept running, keeping along the stone walls and away from the crowds that were rushing about like confused chickens. More arrows rained down behind him and he realized someone was shooting at the three figures running toward him.

  Arrago pushed himself to run faster once he realized it was Myra, Jonas, and someone else. Why were there only three of them? Soon, his own question was answered when he realized Jonas was carrying Jovan.

  “Majesty!” Myra exclaimed.

  At that, Jonas’ knees gave out and he collapsed in exhaustion. Jovan was tossed off his back in the process and screamed out in pain.

  “Fucking Apexia!” Jovan shrieked. His agonized screams echoed inside Arrago’s guts and churned everything around until he felt sick.

  As two of the loyal knights, who’d been hot on Arrago’s heels, reached down to gather up Jovan, Jonas said through panting breathes, “Careful, both his legs are broken.”

  Arrago reached down and helped Jonas to his feet. “Is that what set Bethany off?”

  Jonas looked at Erem by way of reply, and then back at Arrago. Even in the darkness, Arrago could see the warning in his eyes.

  Arrago hadn’t really looked at Erem until now. He was wearing a soiled and ripped tunic that barely covered his intimate parts. He was always a skinny man, but he bordered on skeletal now. Erem’s hair was long and matted, though there were bald patches, like someone had...ripped the hair from his head.

  “I’m so sorry, Erem,” Arrago said. “I wish we came faster.”

  “Who are you?” Erem asked.

  “Erem?” Arrago looked at Myra for an answer.

  “He doesn’t recognize us. I think he thinks this is a dream.”

  More arrows, though these went wide of their position. The darkness and chaos was helping hide them.

  “We are taking you home to Taftlin,” Myra said gently. “This is Arrago. You remember him. He’s come to rescue you.”

  “I don’t live in Taftlin,” Erem said.

  “We all live there now,” Myra said. “You can live with us, too.”

  “This isn’t a dream?” Erem asked, and began to weep.

  Myra’s voice cracked. “No, Lord Erem. It isn’t a dream. It’s really us. That’s King Arrago. See? Everyone’s come. Everyone’s come.”

  Flames erupted in the distance.

  “Oh no,” Arrago whispered. “Not again.”

  “Arrago? Is that you?” Erem whispered.

  “Yes,” Arrago said. He reached down to put a hand on Erem’s shoulder. He flinched, but allowed the contact. “It’s good to see you again, my friend.”

  Erem gripped Arrago’s forearms. His long nails dug into his skin, and Arrago winced at the pain. “Kill me.”

  “What?”

  “Please, kill me,” Erem whispered.

  “None of that,” Myra said.

  “If you are here to rescue me, kill me.”

  Arrago managed to pull himself away from Erem’s grip. He stepped back and stared at the broken, sobbing man leaning into Myra’s small arms. The monster who’d done this was here. Just across that cobblestoned courtyard. All of these elves were monsters. They’d done this to their own. What’s more, they’d done this to his friend. His friend. Erem was one of his.

  A woman’s screams cut through the chaos of the night air. Arrago was facing the tower and the flames, and could see a figure flying out of the second story floor of the temple. A moment later, another figure jumped out of the same window.

  “Ah, crap,” Arrago whi
spered.

  The elves were definitely going to invade them now. They’re only hope right now was shock and that the elves took so damn long to get around to anything that they might have a decade or two to regroup before the next invasion happened.

  “Please kill me,” Erem whispered. “Oh, Apexia, please let me die.”

  Something stirred inside Arrago that would have frightened him on any other day. Instead, all he felt was his own anger roaring inside him. His vision blurred for a moment, but then he gained control over it again. The anger did not fade. Instead, a voice inside him told him to march back there and protect the innocent from the monsters. Jud was a monster. The world needed to be protected from him.

  Arrago pulled his sword from his scabbard. “Get them on the ship.”

  “Arrago, no,” Jovan wheezed.

  “Not you, too,” Myra complained. “Please, Majesty, Lady Bethany will kill us if you get hurt.”

  “Arrago, get back on the ship,” Jovan ordered as best as he could through clenched teeth.

  Arrago ignored them and marched toward the innocent and the guilty, where the voice in his mind said his justice would be swift and his vengeance complete.

  Chapter 17

  ROSE RUSHED THROUGH the hidden stairs and rooms of the palace, dodging the armed men in the corridors. She had to get to the Dowager, the duchess, and Paverly. Lord Kiner had warned her only hours ago that an attack on the palace might happen at any time and to be prepared. She was assigned to the three women and anyone near them. If Amber was with them, her duty was first to Prince Henry, second to the women. Otherwise, it was the women first.

  Rose had been living in the Winter Palace for a year now, off and on. She frequently went to the Dowager’s estate under the guise of delivering messages from the king and his advisors. Tonight, however, she was not in her servant’s costume. Tonight, she was in both the leathers and the good boots Lady Bethany had bought her during the war.

  The desperate sounds of fighting filled the hallways as Rose rushed by not stopping. She couldn’t fight an entire mercenary group. Sure, she could generally hold her own against a man who wasn’t expecting her, or maybe two men if they were really drunk and unarmed. After that, her only defense was that she could run really, really fast.