***
The drakmere were nervous. The alarm had been sounded and the castle was buzzing with activity, but just outside of the gates were hundreds of men, to the ten drakmere that stood on the inside. They glanced back and forth to each other as they held their weapons at the ready. At least there was a large gate in between them, but the beasts would have felt better had they possessed larger numbers.
They heard the clank of weapons and armor behind them, and turned to see a contingent of lancers led by Lance Corporal Ganesh. The draks breathed a sigh of relief. This almost evened the numbers. They turned back toward the men at the gates and hissed loudly, arrogantly challenging them. With all of the draks’ focus on the gates, none even noticed that the men behind them came not to reinforce, but to kill them, until it was too late. It was a bloody melee, but within seconds the ten drakmere lay dead in a pool of their own green blood.
A loud cheer arose from the men on both sides of the gate and Ganesh and two others ran quickly to raise the gate and allow their comrades inside. Soon the men were shaking hands and excitedly greeting one another. Then they turned their attention to the large oak door that stood wide and inviting before them and out of which poured men loyal to Anne, Morgan, and Andrick. The enemy lancers were badly outnumbered and Galt, Breston, Stanlas, and Ganesh smiled to one another.
Breston bounced up and down barely able to control his excitement as he raised his sword and ordered the men forward. Breston led his men to charge with an impressive battle cry echoing through the darkness of the night. He met an enemy soldier, their swords clanging. Breston spun and slid his sword through the plates of the soldier’s brigandine armor. He watched the man scream in agony as Breston spilled his first blood in battle.
He removed his sword, his face sprayed with red blood as Morgan’s soldier fell to the ground, dead. Breston turned to the next man, but it was too late. A mace smashed into his head, crushing his helmet and the skull that was inside of it. Breston’s body fell limply to the ground dead.
“No!” screamed Sir Stanlas as he sprinted toward his young lord. He scooped Breston up into his arms as the battle raged all around him and held the young man close to his chest attempting to protect him, not wanting to admit to himself that Breston was already dead.
Morgan’s men began to fall back, their inferior numbers being overrun by the invaders. They were able to slip back into the castle and slam the large oak door closed.
“Bring an axe!” Ganesh shouted.
***
Andrick stood upon Anne’s balcony watching the battle below. When their men were overwhelmed he decided the time had come to move to a more secure location. He rushed back into Anne’s bedroom where he found Anne standing regally. Ella was beside her, nervously chewing on her bottom lip and continuously glancing at the door as if she were waiting for something.
“We should get to a more defensible position,” Andrick said.
Anne nodded. She knew little about warfare and would defer to Andrick’s military acumen over her own. Andrick walked toward the door and Anne and Ella were right on his heels. “We’ll go to the keep, you’ll be safer there.” They stepped out into the hall and moved quickly.
They walked as fast as they could and Ella glanced at the balconies overlooking the throne room as they passed. She could hear the clank of swords and the screams of the wounded and knew that the battle raged below in the throne room. Then she heard a voice that made her freeze.
“Ella!” came the cry and she stopped and turned back to look. She smiled to herself as she recognized his voice.
“Erec!” she cried and turned and ran back toward the throne room. “Erec!”
Anne heard this and turned to see Ella running away from her shouting Erec’s name. “Ella!” she screamed at her lady-in-waiting. “Come back here!” But Ella paid her no mind. Anne felt the ultimate betrayal. She had treated Ella like a sister. She planned to wed her off to her own brother, and she would become Queen of Avonvale. Ella had seemed completely loyal to her, but now Anne realized that it was all an act. Everything. Her affections for Morgan and for Anne were simply lies. The white skin of her face turned red as her blood boiled with anger.
“Would you like me to bring her back?” Andrick asked.
“No,” Anne sneered. “I want you to kill her.” Andrick nodded and rushed off after Ella.
Ella reached the balcony and looked down into the throne room. The battle was almost over, with those loyal to Morgan either dead or surrendering. She spotted Erec and her eyes met his. He was covered in blood and held his sword in his right hand. He removed his helmet and stared up at her. “Erec!” she shouted.
“Ella!” he returned. “Thank the seraph you’re alright.”
“Erec!” she shouted again as tears flowed down her cheeks. She stared at her handsome prince who had finally come to rescue her. “I knew you would come for me!” she shouted. “I love you!”
“Wait there!” Erec replied. “I’m coming up.”
“Alright,” she shouted back, happily beaming, and imagining that she would finally kiss him for the first time. Her brave prince, come to save her. All of her dreams were coming true, right here and now. She was shaking with excitement, but then she felt a hand wrap around her waist and a cold sharp steel on her throat as the blade of a dagger sliced her skin.
“No!” Erec shouted as he rushed forward.
Ella began to choke and saw her blood spilling out before her. Then she felt two hands shove her from behind and she fell from the balcony to the stone floor below.
Erec reached her and knelt down scooping her up in his arms. He glanced up and saw a man peering over the balcony, smiling at him. He recognized the man though he had not seen him in years. But it was unmistakably Duke Andrick of Libetha.
“Andrick!” he shouted as the man’s head disappeared. Erec forgot Andrick for the time being and turned his attention to Ella. He leaned over and kissed her lightly on the lips and then laid her head gently on the floor.
***
Anne ran now. She could almost sense the loss of the battle and the enemy nipping at her heels. She breathed a sigh of relief as she saw Sir Terrance moving along the hall toward her, no fewer than twenty men with him. His best no doubt, here to protect her and evacuate her if necessary.
“Sir Terrance!” she exclaimed. “Thank the seraph you’re here.” She flung her arms around his neck so happy to see him. “What should we do?”
“I suggest surrender,” he said.
“What?” she asked.
“We’re here to arrest you, Anne.”
“Arrest me?” she was confused. What was happening?
“I had hoped that you were simply bedding the Wizard to survive, that you were not really the vicious witch that you are. But I should have known better. You have been an evil bitch since you were a child.”
She pulled back and slapped him hard across the face. “Traitor!” she spat at him. “When I’m through with you, you will be begging me to kill you!” She reared back to slap him again, but this time he caught her wrist. He yanked her and pushed her to the lancers.
“Put her ankles and wrists in chains boys,” he said. “I’ve seen her move like a shedom, so do not doubt her abilities for a second.” Terrance watched as his men produced shackles, but then his expression turned to one of horror as the heads of all of his men burst from their necks in a splatter of blood that soaked the stone walls. But it was not Anne that did it. She stood still, herself drenched in blood and as terrified as Terrance.
Terrance was slammed to the stone floor. He felt a boot on his chest and a blade against his throat. He wiped blood from his eyes and looked up to see a man he had not seen in years. He swallowed hard. “Sir Orrick?” he said.
The large, dark-haired knight stared down at him. “You should not have betrayed my lady love, Sir Terrance.” Orrick growled at him and then Terrance felt the cold blade in his throat and he died.
Orrick spun to see Anne star
ing at him wide-eyed. She was covered in blood and looked ready to cry. He rushed to her and swung his arms around her, scooping her up and running from the castle.
Before Anne could even catch her breath they were outside of the castle and Orrick set her upon a horse. She was shocked to realize it was her own horse, Isabella. Then she glanced around to see several men, two of them wearing the robes of Shebath priests. Suddenly a shiver went up her spine as she saw what had to be se’irim. They stood almost seven feet tall with hairy bodies, hooves for feet, and rams horns upon their heads. Anne noticed sharp teeth behind their lips and long pointed tails swishing behind them. Anne thought drakmere were terrifying creatures, but they were nothing next to the se’irim.
“Do not be afraid,” Orrick said gently as he wiped the blood from her face. “The se’irim are here to protect you. They shall not harm you.” Orrick then turned to the Shebath priests. “If any harm befalls my queen, I shall peel back your skin layer-by-layer and just before you die, feed you to my dogs.”
“We shall protect her to the death, My Lord,” the priest said as he bowed deeply from the saddle.
“You shall obey her commands as if they came directly from me,” Orrick said.
“Yes, My Lord,” the priest replied.
“Now go! Take her to safety.”
“But what about you?” Anne asked.
“There are other matters I must attend to my love,” he said. He then pulled her lips down to his and kissed her deeply. “I shall find you.”
“Halt!” they heard a voice cry out. Orrick’s lips departed Anne’s and he turned to see Aura floating down to the ground.
Orrick turned back to the priest. “Go now!” The priest nodded and urged his horse to a gallop. Anne, the other men, and the se’irim followed behind.
Orrick smiled at Aura. “Are you really so ready to die this night, seraph?” he asked.
“It is not I that shall die, shedom!” she shouted as her hands gripped her two blades. The creature before her was disguised as a human, but there could be no mistaking his true nature. He wreaked of the darkness. She rushed toward him swinging, but when she reached him he simply melted into the night. Aura glanced around trying to find him. He found her. A boot to the chest sent her flying backward. She slammed into the castle wall, causing stones to crumble around her.
Aura shook her head, dazed from the mighty blow. She had never been hit that hard before. She pushed herself to her feet as she pondered the identity of this demon. He smiled at her. “Who are you?” she asked.
Orrick did not reply. He simply charged her, swinging his dark blade forward. Aura was able to block the blow, barely, but the force of it knocked the sword from her right hand. He grabbed her left wrist and bent it until he heard it snap. Aura screamed in agony as the sword dropped from her hand.
Orrick’s hand went to her throat and he lifted her off the ground. “I know you,” he hissed at her. “You’re his favorite, aren’t you?” Orrick slammed Aura against the stone wall and then dropped her onto her belly at his feet. He stabbed downward, his dark blade slicing through her shoulder and pinning her down to the ground. He reached down and grabbed a clump of her golden hair in his fist, jerking her face up to look at him.
“Yes, Hae’lel speaks of you often, and his descriptions of your beauty are unmistakable.” Orrick smiled, amused that something so valuable as this seraph would literally drop out of the sky before him.
“Liar,” she spat. “The Father would never speak to a dark worm like you!”
Orrick threw back his head and laughed loudly. “Oh, my sweet, your ‘father’ and I speak more regularly than you would ever want to know. And he goes on and on about you. I can understand why,” he said as he licked his lips. “What should I do with you?” he asked.
“Let me up, so that I may drive my blade through your dark soul,” Aura spat at him. This caused Orrick to laugh boisterously.
“Oh no, my sweet,” he said through the laughter. “You have no hope of defeating me. I should kill you, but you are much too important a prize. So the question remains—what to do with you?” He leaned over and nibbled her ear. “Should I take you back to Abaddock with me? Let you serve as my concubine, train you to worship me and beg to clean my boots?” He smiled at the thought of this. “Or should I slice your wings off, scar that pretty face with my blade and send you back to Hae’lel, broken and beaten?” Aura shuddered. “I’ll give you the choice, my lovely. Which would you prefer?”
Aura turned her eyes upward toward him and he smiled as he saw fear there. Suddenly, the fear vanished, and her eyes glowed brightly, fueled by anger. “Neither!” she shouted and as she did so, her right hand shot forward grasping his ankle and yanking his feet out from under him, causing him to fall onto his back. She then reached up and grabbed the hilt of Orrick’s dark blade, pulling the sword from her shoulder and allowing her to stand. She leapt from the ground and pounced on Orrick, driving his own blade through his chest and into the ground beneath him. She knew the dark blade would not kill him and she spun quickly, snatched her own swords from the ground, before flying away as fast as she could, back into the castle.
Orrick reached up, yanked his sword from his chest, and pushed himself to his feet. He noticed the sun beginning to rise. The seraph would heal in the light, but he would be weaker. Unlike most shedom he did not fear the light, but he was not as powerful during the daytime as when cloaked in the lifeblood of darkness. He chuckled to himself as he decided to let her go. He would see her again. Next time he would cut her wings off immediately, making escape impossible. For now, he would fall back, as he realized that there might be more seraph inside the castle. He certainly did not want to face a contingent of seraph alone in the morning light.
***
Aura huddled in the corner of the courtyard, her back to the stone wall, watching and waiting. She gripped a sword in her right hand, but her left was too limp to fight with. She shivered uncontrollably from fear. She watched as the sky began to lighten, counting the seconds until the sun would be beaming overhead. As the light grew brighter and brighter, the cold she felt began to subside. The stab wounds disappeared and her wrist healed.
Aura stood, assuming that the shedom would not be coming after her now, if he had not already. She sheathed her sword as she began to walk to the door of the castle.
Chapter 25
The Hall was silent. One could hear a pin drop as everyone assembled—royals, nobles, and Paladin—stared at Queen Ariana as she knelt on both knees before the thrones of King Artur and Queen Gwyndalin. Tythan stood at the bottom of the royal dais, but wanted desperately to rush to Ariana and protect her.
Artur for his part scowled at the young queen. Despite the fact that he had agreed with his wife to lay all of the blame for Ariana’s surrender of the Dracenstone to the Wizard at the feet of King Baltus, he still fumed. It was one thing to agree to that when Ariana was far away in Avonvale, but now she came begging him for protection from the very evil she betrayed him to. His steely eyes shot to Tythan and saw his brother-in-law chewing his bottom lip nervously.
Gwyndalin laid a calming hand atop his and he glanced down at her delicate fingers. “Take a breath, Artur,” she whispered into his ear. He did so and it did have a calming effect. He then stared down at Ariana.
“Why are you here?” he asked in a booming voice.
“Your Majesties,” Ariana began, “I have come seeking the protection of Caerwynspire.”
“You have betrayed Caerwynspire,” Artur replied. “You have betrayed the Middle Realm. You have betrayed all of humankind!” he shouted as he slammed his fist into the armrest of his throne. “You allied yourself with the Wizard and his army of drakmere, and now that he is dead you come here begging for protection. Why?”
Ariana looked up at Artur and Gwyndalin and they could see the tears in her eyes. “I never wanted to betray you,” she said. “I was commanded to by King Baltus. Prince Tythan can attest to that.”
; “I have already spoken with Prince Tythan.”
“I certainly never wished to ally myself with that monster who fancied himself a wizard.” She stopped here, attempting to suppress a sob. Then she continued. “From the first day I arrived, he commanded me to his chambers and did unspeakable acts to me—not just sexual in nature.” She paused and pushed the long, black hair from her face revealing two long scars on her once beautiful and perfect cheeks. “He beat me repeatedly. He made me beg him to do it.” Then she could not prevent the sobs from coming out.
Artur looked at his wife who was wiping tears from her own eyes. He then turned back to Ariana, his tone gentler. “The Wizard is dead. Why flee now?”
Ariana looked up at him again attempting to compose herself. “His little whore, Anne, the one who killed him, the one who now claims to be Empress of the entire realm…she is just as evil as he. She was jealous of me. She thought I chose to bed the Wizard. As if I would want such a disgusting…” she stopped and calmed herself. “After she killed her husband, she threatened to feed me to her drakmere. She had one stand over me, drooling for my naked flesh, swearing that if I did not please her it would eat me right there in front of her,” she lied. “She had her monsters beat me while I begged for my life. When I got the opportunity to escape I did so, and I rode north as quickly as I could. I was almost captured by draks twice while passing through the Stromland. I feared for my life the entire time.”
Gwyndalin had heard enough. She leapt to her feet and hurried down the steps of the dais. When she reached Ariana she reached down and pulled the young queen to her feet and wrapped her arms around her. “Of course we shall protect you, darling,” she said. She then turned to stare expectantly at her husband.
Artur finally got the hint. “Yes, yes, of course. You are welcome here.”
At that, Tythan ran to her and wrapped his arms around her as Gwyndalin stepped away. “I swear, I shall never let anyone hurt you ever again,” he promised her.
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