by EF Joyce
Queen of unfathomable power, ruler of the largest empire to ever spread across the world, head of the vastest armies, wielder of the strongest magic – what a joke. Elixa was just a scared twenty-year-old girl with no friends and no help. What her father had spent eight-hundred-years building she had managed to destroy in less than one. The old provinces were torn apart by rebellion, her armies were in her enemy's hands and her magic was no longer in her control. Worst of all it was her fault. If she had trusted her father and listened to him, none of this would have happened. If he were here now he'd know what to do, how to fix this.
Chapter 32
I
Drexel crept through the corridors, though no one was there to see him this time of night. The blue, zippered army uniform he wore was much like his own, other than the ten red stripes lining the pocket, and a red ribbon embroidered with a golden star. The commander of the Arcadian Army's uniform, and to go with it, Drexel wore his face. Not Faifax Hale, who'd been disgracefully discharged, but his replacement. Kaelor Lucia-Agresta. The moment Hale had explained the plan, Drexel understood everything.
Why he'd been chosen. Why he was here. How the rebellion planned to dispose of the royal family. Why Hale had married Princess Rozlyn. All of it had come together in a sudden clap of realization, all of it hinging on him. Damien hadn't lied; Drexel was the most important piece to the puzzle, and he would carry out his mission. Not because the Monarch had threatened him and Haydi, not because he had pushed thoughts into his mind, but because he wanted to. His would be the hand of justice, the blade of equality, the might of the people. Drexel had been born for this moment, had spent his whole life wanting for it.
Disguised as the prince, he slipped into the Army Sector, past the mage's stations, through the armory, beyond the gun room and into an office perched above it all, glass windows open to everything: the commander's office. Inside, the king and queen already waited, dressed in plain clothes, wrinkles and circles lining their tired eyes. They almost looked human, almost made him feel sorry for what he was about to do. But then he remembered being cornered by the king in Brigade 34's cell, his threats, his power. He remembered the innocent people in the warehouse, screaming and dying in bloody violence.
"What's this about?" the king asked, rubbing his eyes. "It's the middle of the night, Kaelor. This better be important."
"It is," Drexel said in the prince's voice. The prince, who'd been imprisoned in his quarters by masked guards, lackeys of the rebellion. "Where's Inari?" He could not do this without the heir to the throne, without every one of them.
"I'm here," she replied, slipping through the door. The oldest princess looked tired, gray hairs already mingled with red ones, though she couldn't have been older than thirty. She wasn't nearly as beautiful as her little sister, and not nearly so gullible either. "What's this about?" Drexel wasn't supposed to speak, wasn't supposed to tell them, but he couldn't resist the urge.
"For six-hundred-years, Arcadia has oppressed the Old World. The Unders. You have used them as slaves, killed them for your pleasures, your luxuries. No more. Tonight, the rebellion rises. Tonight, we take everything back." Drexel barely allowed time for the confusion to swirl in their eyes before taking the gun from his belt.
Damien had trained him well, had spent hours at his side, teaching him to be fast, accurate and deadly. Until the man in the execution yard, Drexel had never killed anyone, had never wanted to. Damien had thought him weak, but he wasn't weak. He'd only been pointed at the wrong targets. Arcadia's merciless soldiers and spoiled civilians were not to blame, they were only symptoms of the disease. The royal family was the disease, the sickness that spread through this fake world, propagating lies and violence and slavery and death. No more.
In less than a breath, the king, queen and princess heir dropped dead, glaring red holes stamped between their eyes, blood and brains painted on the windows. Drexel holstered the gun, wiped royal blood from his face and walked out, leaving the carnage behind him.
For generations death had ruled the Unders, but they'd risen up and changed everything. He had changed everything. Now death was the past, and life the future.
II
Drexel sat on his luxurious sofa in his oversized apartment, watching the events of last night play out on his Smart Wall. The tiny cameras covering every angle of the military sector, for the purpose of monitoring the weapons and soldiers, had recorded it all. The prince, murdering his family in cold blood. The prince, putting a hole between the eyes of his mother, father and sister. Kaelor Lucia-Agresta had been arrested early that morning, thrown into a cell on the lowest level, never to be heard from again.
Drexel imagined his confusion at seeing the video, watching himself murder his family. He thought of the prince's claims of innocence, of being set up falling on deaf ears. Like Damien had said, magic like Drexel's was unheard of. The recording was all the proof the Arcadians would ever need. A pretty woman pictured on the Smart Wall tossed her long blonde hair over her shoulder and recounted the events once again.
"In the wake of this horrible crime, the youngest princess Rozlyn Lucia-Agresta has been placed on Arcadia's throne. Our new queen, still reeling from the horrific events of last night, is currently unavailable for comment. In her place her husband, former Army Commander Faifax Lucia-Agresta, now king of Arcadia, has offered to make a statement for the people during this difficult time."
Army Commander. The Monarch. The leader of the rebellion. King of Arcadia. He had ascended to the throne in the most unobtrusive manner possible, cultivating a years-long relationship with the youngest princess, marrying the royal least likely to ever take the throne and then making it happen. Faifax appeared on screen, foregoing the elaborate robes the former king always wore for plainer clothes, but the golden crown still sparkled from the tresses of his black hair.
"Citizens of Arcadia," he greeted, wearing the perfect expression of somber seriousness, of mourning and resignation. "The tragedy we have experienced today is unprecedented in the history of our glorious city. I want to personally reassure you that, despite these horrific events, Arcadia remains strong. For twenty years, I have led the armies as your commander. Now I lead the people as your king, and I promise you, we will go forward into a better future.
"For centuries we have been sequestered away, hiding in our dome, terrified of the world. A few weeks ago my wife, your queen, posted a video revealing to you the truth of the outside, a video your former king removed. To keep you ignorant, to keep you controlled. I am here to tell you Arcadia will not be kept down, will not be lied to, will not be enslaved. We are powerful, above the rest, a beacon of glory.
"Though the murders of the royal family were heinous and appalling crimes, ones for which justice will be carried out, this tragedy has also opened the way for change. Arcadia will once again become the might of the world, and you, my people, have nothing to fear from the future."
Drexel leaned back on the soft sofa, sipping coffee from a warm mug, listening to Faifax's promises. The Monarch had delivered the downfall of Arcadia, the rise of the rebellion. Here was a man who kept his word; the word that Arcadia would take back the world.
Chapter 33
I
For three long weeks they had hidden themselves in Elena's house. The old woman had vacated the place when she'd returned that first night and found bruised handprints on Anaka's neck and Stellan's blood all over the floor. She'd gone to stay with one of her other siblings, claiming that as a religious woman she insisted on gifting her home to the Ilahi for as long as he needed it, though both of them heard the lie. The head priestess came to check on them as often as she could, bringing food from the markets, but she had to be careful as well being in hiding herself.
The queen wanted her father found. She'd ordered the city turned over in her frantic search for him. The temples had been sacked and burned, being the most likely places to shelter him, and what few priestesses escaped arrest or death had fled the city. Anyone caught w
orshiping the Ilahi would be put to death, and the religion that had once held Yeraz together now tore them apart. The army may have learned the truth, but Stellan had spent eight centuries building himself up as a god. Furthermore, the bulk of the military had marched off to Darvaza, leaving Yeraz with no way of quenching the current uprising.
Elixa had heralds traveling all over the empire, shouting out the truth: the Ilahi was nothing more than an immortal sorcerer with no power. Neither heavenly nor divine, he could not provide the glorious afterlife he'd promised. But the shackles of faith would not be thrown off so easily. The people murdered the heralds, strung up their bodies or lit them on fire, labeling them as heretics. A full scale holy war was emerging throughout the empire, especially in the older provinces who had worshiped Stellan for centuries. According to Gilda the head priestess, who brought them news as well as food, the riots had taken a while to build momentum for fear the Red Queen would dream them all into oblivion, but as the violence increased and no repercussions followed they'd grown ever more bold. Gilda had been perplexed by this, but Anaka had not. Elixa would never kill again, especially not her own people.
No news yet had come from Darvaza other than their troops were more or less permanently camped outside the now open gates waiting for Alaric's father and his legions. Stellan and Anaka had spent the last three weeks carefully working out every possibility and finally were forced to conclude nothing could be done to wrest power back from the queen, at least not alone.
"We've gone over this a hundred times, Annie," he snapped, pacing irritably over Elena's worn carpet. "It's not safe for you here."
"I'm not leaving without you," she argued, probably for the millionth time.
"Well, unless you can dream your way into the palace and somehow manage to steal the Sphere and carry it back here, I'm not going anywhere."
"I am due for this baby any day now. I can't travel besides."
"That's all the more reason you should leave," he countered, but Anaka could see she had finally worn him down. She could give birth any moment, and thank the stars for that because she'd never been more uncomfortable.
"We could turn ourselves in to Elixa," she suggested, only for the first time since they'd exhausted all other options.
"So she can imprison me again and kill you? Are you mad?"
"Elixa is softhearted. She won't hurt us."
"Elixa has risked everything to get us out of the way. Do you think this is the first time one of my daughters has gone mutinous? Elixa is just the first to succeed. Ever. Yes, the empire is in turmoil, but she will not welcome us back."
After a long pause, Anaka whispered; "Do you think she could have learned the truth?"
"No. She would have gone mad. They all do." Anaka swallowed a sudden lump in her throat and stared blankly at the rain rattling Elena's thin windows.
"I could go to the assassin's guild in Sinmek. It's only a day's ride. I am, or was, the Black Hand. If I could get help..."
"Hmm. Could work. You'll have to be careful. We'll get Gilda to put together an escort. But we have to do one thing before you go."
"What?"
"Agree on a name for our daughter. If she's born and I'm not there, I want to at least know her name."
II
Anaka rode in a cloistered carriage, the curtains pulled shut, except for when she peeked through them. Five temple guards rode in formation around her, and Anaka had been shocked that many still lived in the capitol. Gilda revealed that she'd sheltered them for this very purpose – to assist the holy mother in time of need. Think of the tales they'll tell! The Head Priestess Gilda Ariano who singlehandedly saved the Ilahi's heir and the queen mother, who was not only the Handmaiden but also the Ilahi's first wife in eight centuries. Her eyes had glazed over as she imagined her immortal glory. Anaka didn't bother to remind her that the queen was in the process of burning all the temples and blotting out Ilahi worship from the pages of history.
The Handmaiden readjusted her position in the cramped carriage for the hundredth time, her hand on her bulging stomach. Calixte Tristenza, that's what they'd decided on. Of course to the world she'd be Calixte Elspeth. The name was just frilly enough for Stellan's taste and just strong enough for hers. But unless she succeeded in recruiting the assassins, Calixte would grow up to be a fugitive, hunted endlessly by her sister. If she failed, Anaka would have to leave Stellan, bound to the Sphere, behind in Yeraz while she went into hiding with their child. No, failure was not an option.
The carriage rumbled over an open plain, nothing visible for miles and miles but tall, pale grass silently waving in the wind. The rain had stopped once they'd pulled away from the last straggling buildings perched on the very edges of the capitol, but the sky remained a steely gray. The Xali road that they currently followed led right through the center of the great plain, before converging halfway through. In a month, the whole place would be flooded with the autumn rains. The left turn led to Sinmek, her destination. The straight path had once been the glorious and well-traveled highway to Arzu. Now it only led to The Waste.
"Hey! Watch it! The Handmaiden!" men shouted from outside her carriage, which jostled her to a sudden stop. Two guards yanked her out just as something terrifying, huge and alien flew over them, whipping up the air. A black, gigantic thing several times the size of the carriage was falling from the sky. The guards yanked her down and fell on top of her, attempting to shield her. The earth rumbled and shook with fury and the thing screamed and screamed in a high pitch whine so loud Anaka had to clamp her hands over her ears in agony. She pressed her face into the soft dirt, tears coursing down her cheeks with the pain of the sound, the ceaseless screeching echoing through her head, over and over.
When it finally stopped she didn't notice until the guards stood up, helping her to her feet. Wiping the stray tears from her eyes, she turned in the direction the guards were facing, staring wide-eyed and open mouthed. The thing – a sleek, black metal tube with two giant extensions sticking out on either side and another smaller one in the rear, was perched silently among the waving grass. With a hiss, a tiny section of the tube popped open and a man stepped out, dressed in an odd one piece uniform. He strode purposefully toward their little band, his hand tightly clamped onto a compact, unidentifiable object on his belt. Though Anaka had no idea what the thing did, she could tell it was a weapon by the way he clutched it.
Once close enough to see her, his dark blue eyes widened and he dropped to his knees. "Your majesty," he muttered in thickly accented but passable Yerazi.
"Who, me?" Anaka replied. Of all the things he could have said...why would he believe her to be any more than a slave? How did he recognize her and where had he come from?
"Are you not the queen of Yeraz? I have seen you from The Eye. You stand beside the immortal and the people cheer you." The Eye? How could he have watched her? Was he another mage from the ancient past? Just what they needed.
"Who are you to watch me, mage? We have no more want of magic in Yeraz." Should she have said that? If he thought her queen, perhaps she could enlist his assistance. What if he refused to respond? Anaka was no good at talking.
"I am not a mage, your majesty, but civilian from the ruins of Arzu."
"Arzu! That place was dreamt into ruins. Nothing lives there now." Liar, that's what he was. Though Arzuin origins might explain the monstrous device he'd fallen from the sky in. His brow furrowed as he worked out her response.
"I am sorry, your majesty, but I do not know this word. What is dreamt? Arzu was destroyed but a shelter called Arcadia was made. I am from that shelter." He pointed at the black thing in the grass. "This is technology from Arzu. There is not word in your language. I go in and fly in the sky. For fast traveling." Even if he was telling the truth, that shelter would have been kept secret over six centuries. Why reveal themselves now?
"What do you want from Yeraz?"
"Land, your majesty. There are many people born who cannot fit inside the shelter. They live in
The Waste, very sick. I will give you weapons for your war and for trade my people come live here, in this empty space."
"You have weapons with you?" she asked, pointing at his flying device. With magical Arzuian weapons she would not need the assassin's guild. With these weapons, she and Stellan could take back Yeraz on their own.
"I have some, for testing."
"Show me."
Chapter 34
Hours later, the Handmaiden was back in the carriage, heading for Yeraz with her new traveling companion. She'd learned his name – Faifax Hale – and he claimed to be king of this Arzuan shelter. He'd become king by overthrowing the ruling family and promising the populous land, land she and Stellan would be asked to provide. In a crazy twist of fate, the greatest ally Anaka could possibly have made dropped out of the sky and nearly landed on her. She'd questioned him about The Eye; apparently it could capture images but could not penetrate walls or record sound. He'd seen her with the Ilahi, he'd seen her being worshiped by the troops for assassinating King Saleda and by the people for carrying their future queen, and had drawn his own conclusions. He knew nothing of the politics, the existence of the Handmaidens or Elixa.
Anaka was queen. She and her immortal husband had been overthrown by their own council once the military had marched off the Darvaza. If he helped them take back the palace and provided weapons for the war, he could have all the land he wanted. He'd agreed and, oh how Stellan would be shocked. Three bulging bags shared the carriage with them, stuffed with strange and fantastical weapons that Faifax swore could kill several men at once with the press of a finger. A press of a finger! This would revolutionize warfare, change everything. But before that, the weapons would hopefully allow eight people to take on a palace.