by N M Zoltack
Thus far, she had failed, though.
After learning she would not board one of the ships on course for Tenoch, Vivian had taken it upon herself to try to sabotage as many of the ships as she could.
Only her efforts were in vain. They had discovered all of the holes she had created in the hulls, and thankfully, they had blamed the damage on animals. Merely one of the vessels had not been patched in time, a minor enough victory, and it felt so hollow.
When they arrived at the main training area, Caelia was winded, but Vivian was eager and ready. She fought hard, fought as if possessed, fought as if her very life depended on it.
“Why do you not fight like that every chance you get?” Aurelia Lupus demanded.
Vivian did not answer. Any reply would not be acceptable.
“If you had fought like that all along…” Aurelia shook her head. “You might eventually become good enough to ascend to the ranks of Valkyrie after all.”
“A little late for that now,” Vivian said not a little bitterly.
Aurelia appraised her. "Not every ship was sent to Tenoch. Never will we have zero ships here, but… one is to be sent to every isle to see if we can't gain allies in them and men… or women… to join us against Tenoch. Why should we alone be free? And then we'll claim Tenoch, and Vincana Proper will be forged."
“Have the warriors been chosen for the ships?”
“As of yet, no.”
“May I go?”
The Vincanan warrior said nothing.
“To Xalac?” Vivian pressed.
“Perhaps.”
And so, only two days later, Vivian found herself on a ship sailing for Xalac. Caelia had also been selected to go, but her course was Zola. Vivian had embraced her friend before they departed.
“I would love to have a feather or two,” Vivian had teased.
“I’ll bring you enough that I could cover you in tar and turn you into a bird,” Caelia had said with a laugh.
“Just enough for wings.” Vivian had flapped her arms.
“Some claimed the first Valkyries had been granted wings by the dragons,” Caelia had said, wonder in her eyes. “Can you imagine the honor?”
“Perhaps one day, Valkyries will have wings again,” Vivian said without thinking.
“Unless the dragons return, that will never happen.”
“The dragons… the Fates… anything is possible.”
“I suppose,” Caelia had said.
They had embraced again and then boarded their respective ships. The journey would be a long one, weeks if not months, and Vivian maintained her vigorous training regime. It was terribly awkward at first, her positioning awkward due to the rocking and rolling of the ship, but over time, her balance improved, and she felt stronger than ever.
If this Li princess resided on Xalac, Vivian would find her. After that… Vivian didn't know just yet, but she had plenty of time to discern just what her course of action should be.
47
Prince Marcellus Gallus
Compared to the rest of their nautical journey across the Ember Sea, the last leg to reach the shore of Tenoch was a tedious and tiring affair. The number of burning ships and fiery wreckage in the waters eventually made it necessary for the men to jump overboard and swim to shore where a large number of guards and knights waited for them. Farther up on the beach were their archers, still shooting their flaming arrows. One landed a few feet in front of Marcellus, and he swung his sword to deflect another.
Once the bulk of the Vincanans reached the shore and engaged those fighting for Tenoch, the archers had no choice but to cease firing for fear of maiming or even killing one of their own.
Marcellus strove to find the brown-haired, gray-eyed guard he had fought earlier, but the crush of knights and guards converging on him would have overwhelmed him had the Valkyries not moved to help defend him. Marcellus ducked beneath a forceful swing and stepped back a few paces, enough that the water lapped at his feet. Was it possible that the guards and knights recognized him, knew who he was? Were they purposely trying to take him out?
Despite the battle on the ship and then the swim to shore, Marcellus had never felt more alive. Honor burned through him, and his way was clear. A ruler—two, actually—who could not locate murderers, could not defend and protect its people, did not deserve to rule. All of Dragoona deserved far better than what Atlan had to currently offer.
The Valkyries helped to force back the bulk of the attackers, and now, Marcellus squared off against a single foe, a guard with dark skin and a thin goatee and mustache. His blade arced through the air, and Marcellus blocked the blow. The force of impact set his teeth on edge. The guard’s blow was far stronger than Marcellus had anticipated.
After the countless days at sea, Marcellus wasn’t used to walking about on solid ground. The sand shifting beneath his weight did help him to adjust some, but his body had become accustomed to the ricking and rolling of the ship. Combined with the guard’s vicious, almost barbaric blows and Marcellus was pushed back even farther into the water so now it lapped at his ankles.
The guard continued, pressing the attack. He seemed to have boundless energy, and his strength somehow increased as the battle went on. Normally, a man would become fatigued, his muscles sore, his movements slowly. Marcellus could not deny that this was most certainly the case with himself. Yet the guard’s speed seemed to amplify as they continued to fight.
Sparks flew whenever their blades met. Thus far, neither had managed to strike the other, to draw blood, but it would only be a matter of time.
Marcellus had to defend more than press to attack, and he attempted to do what the guard on the ship had tried with him—to see if the guard had any weakness. After a strike, the guard would leave his side exposed but only for a few seconds. Hardly much of an opening, but still, Marcellus tried to exploit it.
And earned a swift kick to his chest for his efforts. He landed on his rump in the water, sword up to defend, but the guard just stared down at him, disgusted.
“I cannot believe how weak you are,” the guard said with a sneer as he shook his head with contempt.
Marcellus smirked as the egotistical guard allowed the prince to stand, but instead of moving to strike, Marcellus bent down and threw water up and into the face of the guard. As he sputtered, Marcellus managed to stab him shallowly in the stomach.
The guard jerked back to avoid being impaled and stared at the growing redness staining his surcoat. Marcellus, ready to press his advantage, brought up his sword.
“Fall back,” an unfamiliar voice called. “Fall back!”
Immediately, those from Tenoch obeyed the command, swiftly racing away. To every last man, the speed of their sprinting after engaging in battle was astonishing. Marcellus had seen nothing like it before. How could they have maintained so much energy after fighting for so long? Why hadn’t the men on the ship been as powerful as the ones on the shore? Why were they retreating when it seemed they were well matched or perhaps even better prepared than the Vincanans, as impossible as that was to believe?
No matter. Marcellus rallied the men and women of his homeland. They bandaged and tended to the few wounded, and Marcellus grimaced at the realization that several had died, more so than their enemies. A few of the men he directed to gather the dead onto one of their ships. Those men would stay behind to ensure none would attempt to burn or commander their ships.
As for the rest of them, they fell into step marching behind Marcellus. It was time to start the four-day march to Atlan Castle.
The first two battles were done and over with, but there were many more yet to come.
48
Rase Ainsley
A cut-off scream stirred Rase early one morning. He yawned, not willing to get up just yet. He had not uncovered any more worthwhile secrets lately, and he had to resort to stealing coin pouches again in an effort to ensure they had enough coins for when the baby came. That meant he was sleeping very little at night, more during
the day, and he rolled over, squeezing his eyes shut.
But a moan followed a few minutes later and then again. It sounded like someone was in pain.
Maxine.
The pregnant young lady.
Rase’s eyes flew open, and he sat up with a jerk. “Are you all right?” he asked urgently.
Leanne was already awake and holding Maxine’s hand. The pregnant woman’s face was bright red, her dark blond hair matted to her forehead.
“What’s going on?” Rase demanded, frustrated that neither answered them.
Just then, Ma stirred. “What is going on?” she asked as she sat up.
“I… I don’t know. It’s… My clothes are all wet and…” Maxine bit her lower lip and then gasped out a cry. “It hurts. Oh, Fate’s alive, it hurts.”
“Your belly is tightening?” Ma asked. When Maxine nodded,” Ma smiled a bit grimly. “All this means is that it’s time.”
“Time?” Rase asked. “Time for what?”
“For the baby to come,” Leanne said in a tone that suggested he was ignorant.
“Oh,” he said faintly. “Oh! The baby… Uh… What do you need?”
“Water. Clean clothes,” his ma said.
“What about a physician?” Rase blurted.
Maxine set her jaw. “No physician…” She winced.
“Breathe,” Leanne urged, patting their held hands.
“No physician will come,” Maxine said. Her breathing came in heaving gulps.
“They have to,” Rase reminded her. “The crown said—”
“It doesn’t matter what the crown says,” Ma said softly. “We are at war. The Vincanans are here. Surely all of the physicians will be forced to help the knights.”
“As… As they should,” Maxine said. Her face looked both red and pale at the same time. “I… I’ll manage…”
“No, you won’t,” Rase said firmly. He stared down his sister. “Get the water and clean clothes and anything else.”
“Where do you think you’re going?” Leanne cried as he rushed to the door.
“To get a physician,” he said, mimicking her tone from earlier to suggest she was the ignorant one.
Despite the protest from all three females, Rase raced out of the shack. He had kept the horse this entire time, and he raced now to the castle and then headed around it to the northeast, to the hill where Physician Holgar Knut lived.
Heart pounding, Rase banged on the door. “Holgar! Holgar Knut!” he called until his voice grew hoarse.
Was the physician not that? Had he been called away because of the war?
Rase reached for the latches, but before he could undo them, the bolts came undone as if by themselves. He stepped back as the door opened. The familiar portly man with spectacles glowered at Rase.
“I do not have time for you and your threats this day,” the physician said gruffly.
“No threats and I’ll pay you after you helped her.”
“Helped who with what?” the physician asked, a hint of unease or perhaps disbelief in his voice. “I truly do not have the time—”
“My friend is ready to have her baby. Now.”
“Right now.”
“Yes.”
“Her first child or second?”
“First.”
“She is having contractions.”
“Um, if you mean pain and groaning and screaming, then yes. And she said… her clothes are wet?”
The physician nodded. “Yes, the baby is coming, but since this is her first, we should be able to reach her in time so long as she is not too far away.”
“We can take my horse—”
“I have a carriage,” the physician said mildly.
“Just ride your horse—”
“A four-horse carriage.”
Rase gaped at the man. A carriage pulled by that many horses must reach a tremendous speed. He nodded, unable to say a word.
With Rase’s permission, the physician’s footman tethered his horse to the front of the carriage, bringing the total to five. Rase sat beside the footman outside of the carriage, on a ledge, and gave the man directions how to reach the shack. Compared to the physician’s manor with its two stories, painted windows, and attached stable, the Ainsley shack must seem utterly pathetic, but Rase only cared about the physician helping Maxine and the babe, not about the man’s opinion on their living situation.
The physician said nothing at all about the building, although he did purse his lips slightly. He trailed behind Rase inside and immediately assessed the room, which stank of sweat and fear and something else Rase hadn’t ever smelled before.
“When did the pain begin?” the physician asked, hovering near Maxine.
“This morning.”
“Have you anything to eat?”
“Goodness. No. I…” Maxine grimaced and then let out a wail that caused tears to burn Rase’s eyes.
The boy so wanted to take her pain away, but he wasn’t even sure where to stand. Not wanting to be in the way, he shifted toward the corner. Unsure what to do with his hands, he clasped them behind his back. Uneasy and anxious, he rocked back and forth onto his heels and then his toes.
“I don’t… No food,” Maxine murmured.
“Good. Lie back some. Draw up your legs… You can remove the wet clothing,” the physician said, his tone gentle rather than condescending.
“We thought to,” Ma said sharply, “but she cannot stand, and trying to only caused her more pain.”
“Then I will have to cut them.”
Without asking for permission, Holgar withdrew a dagger and swiftly cut through the fabric of Maxine's clothing. Rase stepped forward to be more in line with Maxine's waist.
Her gaze met his, and for the briefest moment, she attempted to smile, but then a fresh wave of pain hit her, and she squeezed shut her eyes and groaned before screaming.
“I see a foot,” the doctor said grimly. “The baby’s the wrong way.”
“Wrong…” Maxine turned her head from side to side. “What’s wrong?”
“Wipe her forehead,” the physician snapped to Rase’s Ma, “and you, get her more water or ale or anything to drink at all.”
Leanne didn’t seem to want to leave Maxine’s side, but she complied with the physician’s demand anyhow.
“I am going to have to try to twist the baby, push the babe back, and turn him about,” the physician said.
“It’s a him?” Maxine asked softly.
“I cannot tell yet, actually. Just lie still and do not move.”
Maxine nodded. “I… I will do… my best.”
“Do. Not. Move.”
She nodded again, and the physician reached between her legs.
Maxine let out a blood-curdling scream and jerked back.
“Boy, hold her down,” the physician snapped.
Rase rushed over and sat behind Maxine, bracing her. “I have you,” he whispered in her ear.
Leanne came over with a drink, but Maxine was writhing in pain again. Only because Rase sat behind her did she not move too much. Ma tried to dap her forehead, but Maxine was squirming again.
“It hurts. Oh, Fates, it hurts so… Ow! Make it stop!”
The sound of liquid flooding had Rase squeezing Maxine around her shoulders. “Don’t worry,” he whispered. “You’ll be all right.”
But Maxine was crying and most likely did not hear him. Her body was trembling, shaking violently, and more fluid left her body. Rase couldn’t see around her to know what it was, but he soon smelled it.
Blood.
Rase could feel how swiftly her heart was beating as she sank down, his arms now around her neck more than her shoulders. He tried to console her, to tell her it was almost over, but she was whimpering now. Somehow, that was even more terrifying than when she was screaming.
And then… he felt nothing. Maxine was slack against him, and he could not feel her pulse. He shook her gently.
“Maxine? Maxine!”
But she did n
ot answer.
The physician ignored his cries, intent on between her legs. Rase shifted to see around her lolling head and watched as the physician pulled the baby out of Maxine by her feet. His feet? Rase couldn’t tell. The babe’s legs were closed.
“Why isn’t he crying” Ma whispered.
“A dead baby does not cry,” the physician said wanly.
“And… Maxine?” Leanne murmured, her voice tight with fear.
The physician stood. His clothes were drenched in blood. “No one can lose so much and survive. She… She spilled as much blood as some of our knights this day.”
Shocked, numbed, Rase couldn’t move. It was only after the physician reached the door that Rase realized he had to pay the man.
Swiftly, he motioned Leanne over so she could hold her friend, and Rase eased to his feet and approached the physician, who had stopped just beyond the door of their shack.
“How… How much do I owe you?” he said, unable to look up at the man.
“Nothing.”
“The crown might not be able to repay you until after the war, and that will only be if Tenoch is victorious,” Rase pointed out. “Let me—”
“I will not seek payment from the crown either.” The physician appraised him. “I can only do what the Fates allow. Death came for them both. Even if another physician had been here, even if I hadn’t been… she would have died. They both would have.”
Rase opened his mouth, but no words came out.
Holgar Knut nodded and left, and Rase felt every bit of a failure. He had been so certain the physician would be able to help, but if he had gone to that alchemist shop… perhaps then Maxine would still breathe.
Pa, Maxine, the baby… Who would die next? Rase wondered as tears streamed down his face. Who else would die because Rase wasn’t cunning enough, fast enough, rich enough? Would he be the sole survivor, doomed to live with the specters of his past of all he had lost and hadn’t been able to save?