That left her own regiment, the third, fifth, and sixth for the capital -- and the sixth was stationed in the town itself.
Naught even thirty-five hundred people to protect the castle, some of them on leave in town besides.
Now the castle was under siege, and the admiral had no way of reaching her troops.
She felt she'd failed in her job utterly.
I couldnae even protect tha man I loved, she thought, and felt the tears spring fresh to her eyes.
No. No more tears. She'd cried enough tonight. I'da cried enough fer ever.
In one last act driven by emotion that night, she'd drawn her knife in the middle of the hospitalis and shorn her long hair, leaving naught but an inch poking up from her skull. It attracted looks of pity, for that was an act of mourning only the utterly bereaved went through -- spouses, lovers, parents. It was easier to bear the pain of one's parents or grandparents, or any older relative, passing, for it was expected, if unwanted. The same, it was said, for comrades in battle. Her act had been telling.
Unable to bear the looks of pity that crossed the faces of her women, and her duties finished, she headed back to the hospitalis. She'd been ordered to report to the Empress when things were said and done, but the treecat could wait as far as she cared. Her cousin was the one who needed Anala right now, and truth be told she needed Ghia's company, too. More than I can say.
The clean up was done and the healers in bed. The hospitalis was empty save for the head healer, who stood still in the middle, looking terribly sad and small and young in that moment. Anala crossed the room and hugged her cousin, and Ghia's right arm came around the admiral's waist, her broken hand unable to return the embrace in earnest, though Anala could feel Ghia's intention in her movement. Neither woman cried, but in that embrace there was some release for them, some shuddering of the bones that left Anala feeling scrubbed clean, empty as the hospitalis itself, and when she stepped away she could see, in Ghia's face, that the same was true for the healer.
"Let's leave this place, eh?" she said to Ghia, and the healer nodded, a strange light coming into her eyes. The girl still had not spoken, and Anala had figured out that the healer, in fact, could not speak. She didn't know why, but hoped there was an answer out there somewhere.
Ghia gestured for Anala to follow her, and the admiral complied, not caring where they went so long as it was far away from everyone else.
Magea Rosa
0245 hours
In one of her few and brief periods of lucidity she had taken to walking the circumference of the room, to remind herself, even in madness, that it was a room, and not the other place she'd feared so.
It had worked, more or less. She did not stop moving, wearing a rut in the stone and her root-feet to polished wood in places. Around and around. Around and around.
Here I am. Here I am in the castle.
Not the other place.
Around and around.
She reached the window for what must have been the thousandth time. A click sound rent the air loudly and she stopped to listen, though it felt as if her body kept moving forward in her circuit. A whine followed the click, and then there was a very loud noise.
Rosa looked up, her hands still on her ears. A light shone through the open doorway.
They were back.
They had done it all again. It had all happened again.
She felt that terrible anger rise up in her then and she laughed, a mad sound like the clacking of tree branches together in a gale.
She walked forward, intent on ending it for good this time.
Empress Zardria
0246 hours
This day was horrible, and it was only a few hours old.
First the attack, news of it waking her from one of the few peaceful slumbers she'd had. Instantly galvanised, she'd run around sending out orders but feeling generally useless, as Admiral Anala had already waked up and taken care of things. Had it not been for the woman's battle sense, Zardria was sure the castle would have been lost.
Only in the aftermath had she been able to do anything of use. Once she'd done all she could and Anala had still not reported to her, she'd decided to get some sleep again. What else could one do in a siege? There was nothing to be done till morning. Well, till the sun rose, anyway, and she wanted some sleep between now and then.
She looked at the signet ring on her finger. Examined the hole where, just moments before, the green stone had exploded in a shower of dust. Glared at the circle of metal with unequivocal rage.
There was only one thing the breaking of that stone could mean.
Somehow the Magi bitch was free.
Anala
0247 hours
Her ears were still ringing from the blast that had knocked her back. She shakily got to her feet, all her bones vibrating, and sheathed her sword.
Ghia had led the admiral to the North Tower, where the woman saw the door was locked. They both tried in vain to open it. Anala could tell Ghia had done so, already, many times. Anala even tried to use her Magi powers, to no avail. Finally, in frustration, the admiral had stabbed the mosaic that framed the door at random with her sword.
It had cracked a green stone with a click sound. The broken stone glowed, a whine filling the air, and then everything exploded, and Anala was on her back, twenty feet from the door.
She extended her hand and helped the equally stunned healer to her feet and grabbed the girl's cane for her, which had fallen a few feet away. Together they turned towards the now-open door, intent on seeing if Magea Rosa was alright.
What they saw stopped them cold.
A figure emerged from the dark, and though Anala knew it had to be the Magea, the sight of the being made the admiral's blood freeze in her veins. A vicious wind blew around the Magea, sweeping what had been leaf-hair around her head. The once bright green, bushy hair had changed into a tangled mess of vines and tendrils that blew around with whip-crack noises, a green so dark it now looked black. She seemed taller with this mad power that swept around her, and Anala found herself shaking with fear. The ruddy-brown of Rosa's bark-skin had turned a dark, blood-like color, and sap ran from open wounds all over her face and body. Anala wasn't sure it was supposed to be that black and sludgy, though she'd never seen Rosa's sap before.
The Magea glided towards them, her feet sliding across the floor in a deadly walk. Anala looked the Magea in the face and swallowed: Rosa's face was caught in a terrible rictus, a smile that didn't waver. Lunacy danced in her eyes, and Anala could see that this being -- their mentor -- did not recognise either of them.
"This may not 'ave been such a good idea, Ghia," the admiral whispered to her cousin. Ghia stood frozen, staring at what had been someone she loved. Anala could see she was in shock.
With a curse Anala drew her sword and stood in front of the girl, like a shield.
"Magea Rosa!" She had to shout, for the Magea was closer to them now, and the gale whipped words away from one's mouth before they were barely formed. "I'd ken ye'd be a mite angry, but it'd not be us ta get mad at! Magea Rosa!" she shouted again, but the Magea did not hear or understand her.
With every second the Magea drew closer, and every second Anala felt more torn, as she really did not want to stab the tree-being, but felt desperate to protect herself and her cousin.
An' even if'n I did, would it do anythin'?
Rosa stopped but a few feet in front of the admiral. Anala held her breath.
The Magea cocked her head at Anala and her smile grew wider, if such a thing were possible.
Rosa raised her hand and held it in front of Anala's drawn sword. Before Anala's eyes her sword grew white hot and melted away into nothing, leaving a warm pommel in the admiral's hand. That too started to get hot, and she dropped it before it burned her.
"Please, Magea Rosa, I'd be begging ye --"
A laugh cut her off -- it ran through her head, a high-pitched keening noise. Anala clamped her hands over her ears but the sound did not abat
e; in pain she fell to her knees and toppled over onto her side. She curled up into a ball, praying for the sound to cut off.
Abruptly, it did.
Anala looked up in surprise.
Ghia had tackled Rosa, and the two grappled on the floor.
Ghia
0253 hours
She hoped this worked.
Rosa beneath her, Ghia planted her weight on the Magea and placed her left hand on Rosa's forehead.
Ryll, hear my plea -- heal her!
She didn't know if the Magi deity would hear her, or if she could even summon the Ryllan energy anymore. If that didn't work, nothing would. She could see Rosa was mad -- had embraced the darkness of Lyra. Ryll was the only power to combat that.
She was knocked from Rosa then, and the Magea rolled on top of the healer. A branchy hand closed around Ghia's throat and she felt a blast of Lyran energy hit her.
Sinking fast into her own madness and now slippery with her own blood as it leaked from the wounds all over her body, she struggled to fight Rosa off.
It didn't work. She was too weak.
In desperation she placed both hands -- whole and broken -- on the arm that was working to strangle her, and tried again. Remembering her training, she reached out to the power of the sun, trying to raise all the Ryllan energy she could and direct it to the Magea -- not to hurt, but to heal.
Ryll, if You can hear me...please....
Spots danced in front of her eyes as her windpipe was crushed. Her peplos was soaked from the pool of her own blood she rested in. Still she pushed her strength, trying to heal her mentor.
Even if it's the last thing I do.
All was fading; darkness was taking her. Then a flash of brilliant light blinded her, and there was no more weight on her.
She took a deep breath and her lungs burned. She'd staved off the madness, at least, and if that flash was any indication, Ryll had answered her plea. It was the last thing I did, she thought, feeling the blood sticky in her hair.
Her eyes fluttered closed and her breathing slowed. She felt arms encircle her and she let them bear her up, sure she was with Muerta now. Her head fell back, and then she knew no more.
Caelum
0259 hours
It was the sound of her pacing that woke him. Rolling over, he saw Zardria was walking the length of their bed, in her robe, anger on her face. The water clock said it was thirty to three-hundred hours.
"What's wrong, Zee?" he asked with a yawn, his voice scratchy with sleep. The nickname was a new one. He'd called her that accidentally, and when she'd not maimed or killed him -- indeed, even smiled a little bit -- it had stuck.
Her face softened a micro-fraction when she looked at him, and she stopped pacing long enough to tell him about the attack and the siege.
Soon he was alert and up, jumping around to get dressed. "Why didn't you wake me? I could have helped!" he said, pulling on a pair of pants hurriedly, before tugging them off again when he realised they were hers. Her only pair -- she never wore pants in sight of anyone but him. They didn't fit him half so well.
She raised her eyebrows at his display. "With what?"
He put his hands on his hips and glared at her, wishing he wasn't naked. Would have been a more impressive picture. Maybe. "I am a trained military officer, if you'll remember."
The rage hadn't left her face in all this time, but it didn't bother him. He knew it wasn't directed at him. "Sure. Go help people who are no longer your friends. See how long you last." He sighed, knowing she was right, and found a pair of his own pants -- ones he used for lounging. "Besides, it's over with now. Castle's secured, thanks to the admiral. Remind me to give her a medal in the morning," she added almost absentmindedly, moving to the window to gaze upon her city. "Now we just have the siege to deal with," she sighed.
He regarded her from his seat on the footstool. The rage had left her face. Lines carved deeply into her skin, making her look very tired and far older than her thirty years. Her hands leaned on the window sill, her shoulders hunched over, and she looked smaller than her six-foot-six height. For the first time since he'd been chosen as Consort, he saw Zardria...vulnerable.
"I don't know what to do, Caelum," she whispered, and he could feel how much it had cost her to say. He rose from his seat and went to her, wrapping his arms around her hourglass figure.
"Whatever happens, Zee, we'll get through it -- together," he murmured into her hair, which was unbound and wild. "Okay?"
She nodded and turned in his arms till she faced him. Her hand reached up and brushed away a loose tendril of his hair -- it was getting longer, for he'd not cut it in over a month. It was only in private that she dared to show him these tendernesses. "What would I do without you?"
He smiled down at her. "Probably get more work done," he said, with a pointed look at the bed. She smiled and shook her head at him, not responding. He took the opportunity to kiss her gently, and murmured against her lips: "For now, let's crawl back under the covers, though. Alright, Highness?"
She gave a huff of laughter but didn't pull back. "You truly do have a one-way mind," she said, then stopped abruptly.
He frowned and regarded her -- her face was blank, her eyes unfocused. "Zee?" she didn't respond, and a second later her body went rigid in his arms. "Zee," he said, truly worried now. She started to shake convulsively, her eyes going from their natural gray to black and then back again. He held her, barely knowing what to do, and then her body gave one last shake and went limp, her head lolling back, eyes closed. A trickle of blood leaked from her nose down past her lips and over the curve of her chin.
Hastily his hand went to support her head, pulling it upright even as she slid down, her body trying to obey gravity now that she was unconscious. "Zee, wake up," he said, his heart beating wildly against its cage of ribs. He held her upright with little difficulty, for she was light, and tried to wake her up. Her chest rose and fell with gentle, shallow breaths, and he breathed a sigh of relief that she was not dead.
But he could not wake her up.
He scooped up her legs and went to place her on the bed, arranging her head on the pillows carefully. He wiped the blood from her face gently and kissed her, trying to get any sort of response.
None came.
"Okay, Zee, just wait right here. I'll be back with a healer. Soon. I promise," he whispered, not even knowing if she could hear him, and ran to the stairs, which he flew down with a speed that was dangerous. He didn't trust the guards to get the right healer. Zardria desperately needed Ghia's skills now.
Rosa
0259 hours
She'd come back to herself with a magekal backlash that nearly crippled her. An undercurrent of sentient energy came with the flash of light that had knocked her back and into sanity, and she almost threw herself to the floor and wept at the renewed contact with one of her Deities -- for all its admonitions.
She looked around and saw that Ghia lay on the floor in her own life's blood, her red hair getting redder as her face grew pale. Her breathing shallowed and she did not move.
No, thought Rosa, knowing it had been her doing, as she crawled towards the girl. Not again.
She gathered Ghia up into her arms and held the girl as she concentrated on healing the wounds she'd caused. Her powers were scattered, disparate, but she gathered them back to bring back to life the girl she loved as a niece. Soon she heard Ghia's heart beating more steadily, creating more blood to replenish what she'd lost. She'd be weak for a few hours, but she'd live.
She was still unconscious, and Rosa tried to reach her telepathically, needing assurance that the girl was truly alright.
There was a block. It was not Magi.
She frowned, trying to uproot the black wall that she hit every time she tried to reach the healer. She could not remove it, and soon an angry power rose in front of it, telling her to leave well alone.
It was a Terran Deity, that much she knew. She could not fight this battle alone. She pleaded for Aipri
to come to her aid, for as much this was His domain as Ghia was one of His Magi.
Perhaps Ryll had spoken to Him, for a warm breeze blew through Rosa and flooded her with strength, guiding her as she went to battle the Terran deity that had blocked Ghia's thoughts.
Rosa grappled mentally with the alien intrusion, using the Aiprorian strength to its fullest. Soon the dark Terran power called for aid, and Rosa felt her hopes sink. Still she did not give up, and her persistence finally won out. The presence blinked out of sight and the block was lifted. She thanked Aipri, and just as He'd arrived, He was gone, the sudden absence of His presence leaving her empty and cold.
Rosa opened her eyes and looked down at Ghia, who was awake, looking around her in wonder.
"I'm not dead," she said, and Rosa wanted to weep.
No, little one, you're not. The Magea smiled down at the girl, and Ghia smiled back uncertainly.
The healer sat up slowly, and they both looked to see Anala crouched a few feet away from them, her knife held at the ready, looking at them warily.
"Neither of ye is like ta attack, are ye?" she asked, and Ghia snorted.
"No. And I can talk again." The last was a question, surprise on her face and in her voice.
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