by N M Zoltack
49
Sir Edmund Hill
The Prince of Vincana. It wasn't until much later that Edmund realized that was the man he had fought on the ship. If the fight had lasted much longer, Edmund had no doubt at all that he would have lost his life to the man.
Once he had made his way to shore, Edmund had been given a flask, and he had drunk without questioning it. Immediately, a pleasant warmth had washed over his body, and he had realized it was one of Tatum’s potions. All around him, every guard and knight seemed to be drinking, and without a doubt, he felt the effects as he fought a Valkyrie. How perverse was it that the order of legendary female warriors fought for Vincana when their ancestors had served the dragons and the dragons alone.
But these women were just as legendary as the stories suggested, and even though he had his potion, the Valkyrie fought him hard. He had managed to knock one out, but he had not killed any.
When the order to fall back was given, Edmund appeared to be the only one who hesitated. He brought up the rear. Once they left the beach behind, Edmund lagged behind, his steps slower, his gait shorter with each stride.
Tjaart Kamua, one of the guards from the island of Tiapan, fell into step beside him. “What’s wrong? Didn’t you have a potion? Or is yours wearing off too?”
“Might be wearing off,” Edmund muttered.
Tjaart nodded. “I think that’s why we were ordered to fall back. They’re fierce.”
“Indeed,” Edmund murmured. He halted and turned to glance between the scattered trees toward the beach.
“What is it?” the guard asked.
“You go on ahead,” Edmund said.
“And you will…”
“I’ll catch up to you soon.”
“You cannot hold to face—”
“I will not face any of them,” Edmund said firmly. “Now, go.”
Without waiting for Tjaart to say anything, Edmund slipped from tree to tree, moving as stealthily as possible. Before he reached the beach, he found a hiding spot and waited nearly an hour before the Vincanans lined up and began to march toward where the guards and knights had just gone.
Edmund waited until they all moved past his position to hurry to the beach. A few Vincanans had stayed behind, and he ignored them, hoping they wouldn’t see him as he slipped into the waters.
As Edmund had suspected and feared, some of the guards still swam in the waters. The Vincanans were busy tending to their ships, and Edmund directed the guards where to swim to reach the shore until he realized each one that remained floating had been injured.
One by one, Edmund brought them to the shore. It was a tedious, drawn-out process, but Edmund managed. Most certainly, the potion’s effects had worn off by now. Still, Edmund persisted, and he ended up recovering nearly two dozen soldiers.
“Come,” he murmured, eyeing the Vincanans. “We must go.”
He motioned the others ahead and brought up the rear. With each step, he expected one of the Vincanans to notice them.
And then, that was precisely what happened. One of them gave a shout, and Edmund withdrew his sword.
“Go on,” he urged, grateful that although they were all injured, the guards could still walk or limp along.
“But—” a guard protested.
“Go,” Edmund said through gritted teeth.
Simba Pretorius moved to stand beside Edmund. He had a large gash on his upper arm. Otherwise, he appeared fine. “The two of us will hold them. Go now.”
At that, the guards argued no more and hurried along. Edmund had already told them to be mindful to sneak around the Vincanans’ main force that was between them and their own guards and knights. They didn’t number high enough to try to take the enemy from the rear.
Simba reached down his surcoat and removed a vial. He tossed it at Edmund and then retrieved another one.
“Cheers,” Edmund murmured, and he drank down the contents. Although it smelled like burnt cheese, it tasted like water and nothing else.
A moment later, the Vincanans had raced over to fight them, and Edmund blocked the first blow. He grinned as he felt vigor and strength flood through him. Simba turned, his back to Edmund's, and the two twisted in a circle, fending off the Vincanas.
Simba drew blood first, but then Edmund was sliced near his ear. Edmund drew his sword up and then down. When the Vincana moved to block the blow, Edmund drew his sword closer to the enemy and then jerked it to the side. The Vincanan’s sword soared through the air. Edmund grinned at his now-unarmed foe, but he merely stepped to the side and allowed another to face Edmund in his stead.
A grunt came from Simba, but his foe gave a death shrill. Grinning, Edmund fought his next opponent hard and managed to nick his throat but not deeply enough for him to bleed and die.
The look of utter shock on the Vincanan’s face had Edmund laughing. “Didn’t think it would be possible for us to injure or even kill you? Clearly, you should revisit that notion.”
“But you aren’t supposed to be fighting us, are you?” Simba asked.
Edmund shifted slightly, curious as to his ally’s point.
“You need to guard the ships,” Simba said calmly. “Go on. Do your duty.”
“We cannot allow you to roam free,” one of the soldiers said firmly.
“But we aren’t free. We’re both injured.” Simba showed off his injury.
Edmund did likewise and then eyed the nearest barrel. He could feel the heat from the flames contained within.
“Do your part, and we won’t have to make use of that barrel,” Edmund said, nodding to it. “Unless you want us to burn every last one of your ships?”
The guard Edmund had nicked the throat of growled. The others said not a word but merely backed away slightly. Edmund could feel their gazes glued to his body as he left the beach and strove with Simba to locate a means to travel faster and around the Vincanans so they could rejoin their main force.
Already this war was wearing on Edmund. When he had become a knight, he never thought a war would come and certainly not anything like this. So long as his queens ordered him to fight, Edmund would. If his refraining from burning every one of the Vincanans' ships proved to have been the wrong choice, well, Edmund would have to live with the consequences of that decision. For now, they needed to concern themselves with the coming battle, not the one they had just instigated and then abandoned.
“We can handle them,” Simba said.
“Only with the aid of the potions,” Edmund muttered.
“We will win.”
“Your faith astounds me.”
The two fell silent, and it wasn’t until they reached Arlingway River that they were able to sneak around the enemy and rejoin their men. The ones he had saved all hailed Edmund as a true hero, but all he did was brush away their words and urged them to march faster. If they risked sleeping, it was entirely possible the Vincanans would come and slice all of their throats as they rested. That was not how Edmund wished to die.
50
Prince Marcellus Gallus
The four-day march took them nearly five, but that was because their bodies necessitated stopping to rest and eat. Marcellus himself hardly slept at all, too anxious to reach the castle, too eager to fight and finish this.
All he wanted to do was avenge his friend.
And free Vincana from the grips of Tenoch Proper.
And maybe even sit on the throne. He hadn’t precisely decided if he truly wanted that or not, but he had long since stopped inwardly flinching when his people referred to him as “My Prince.”
And then, finally, Atlan Castle came into view. With five grand towers and many more smaller ones, the castle wall stretched wide across, the building even more impressive than Marcellus could have anticipated or imagined. The stockade, the first line of defense, had been constructed of pickets, posts construed to form a fence.
The pickets did not hold them back for long, but it was the battlements and barbicans that caused Marcellus to worry. Fro
m either, archers could rain down arrows on them once more.
And there was the matter of the moat and the raised drawbridge to contend with.
Horatia Ramagi moved to stand beside him. “We have to avoid the machicolation,” she murmured. “They could drop projectiles on us from the apertures.”
“She has the right of it,” Flavius Calvus said, nodding to her.
Horatia scowled at him. “Our best option would be to climb the rampart. If we can climb the outer wall high enough to scale a tower, we can enter the corbel and then descend the tower and be inside the castle walls.”
“That will leave us vulnerable as we climb,” the commander of the Vincanan army argued.
“Pray tell another idea then,” she snapped.
“I never said we should not do as you said,” he pointed out, “merely mentioning a flaw, but I do not see a different way that would prove safer.”
“Then we must do what we must,” Marcellus said, “but for now, we will remain here, in the trees, waiting and watching until nightfall.”
“We run the risk of their guards and knights catching up,” Flavius said.
“Yes, but we need the cover of darkness to help us,” the prince pointed out. “They will have sentinels, even at night, but when the stars are out, they’ll need more light. Their fires will help to make them more visible as well as tell us which part of the thick wall we need to scale.”
“If we could only locate the postern," Flavius said. "Most castles have a door or two built into the rampart, but without knowing where to look, we could waste a great deal of time trying to locate it and be discovered.”
“Or we could send a few Valkyrie in to find one,” Horatia suggested. “A door along the bottom of the outer wall would be vastly preferable to scaling the side of the castle.”
“Very well. Send some the moment the sun sets,” Marcellus ordered.
And so they ate and waited. The sun sank lower and lower into the sky, and the temperature lowered as well. Winter would be coming soon.
Horatia selected two Valkyries and then moved to follow them, only Flavius seized her arm.
“You are not going,” he said firmly.
She yanked her arm free. “You cannot give me orders. My commands come only from the prince.”
“The prince whose side you should never leave. It was terrible enough you refused to board his ship—”
“He had you and Valkyries—Is that why you are upset I did not sail with you two? Because I was not with you?”
“Now is not the time for a lovers’ quarrel,” Marcellus said lightly.
“We are not lovers,” the two said at the same time, Horatio with disgust, Flavius more resigned. Perhaps the duo were not both secretly pining for the other as Marcellus had thought.
“If you would rather I stay here,” Horatio started.
“You may go if you wish,” Marcellus said. “I will not stop you.”
“Thank you.” Horatio nodded to him, glowered at Flavius, and hurried to follow the Valkyries.
Time passed slowly, and every time Marcellus heard an animal rustling in the underbrush or a twig snapped, he reached for his sword, certain that the knights would come at them from behind.
But the knights never did.
The sun would soon rise by the time Horatio slipped back through their numbers to reach Marcellus. All she did was wave her hand for them to follow, and they fell into an orderly line. They had to walk past the entire front façade of the castle to reach the postern, which was near the southeastern corner of the castle.
“The Valkyries went in ahead to ensure no one is lying in wait,” Horatio murmured in Marcellus’ ear. “Even so, you should allow some of us to go in first.”
The prince grimaced but nodded. He wished to sneak inside the castle before the sun rose. His body hummed, beyond prepared and ready for another battle. Eventually, this high would wear off, he knew from experience, and he wished to take advantage of this heightened state for as long as it lasted.
After ten of his warriors entered the postern, Marcellus slipped through the door and ascended the stairs. Twenty minutes later, the lot of them were squeezed into a short tower’s main room.
Horatio and Flavius turned to Marcellus, who closed his eyes. “I wasn’t in this part of the castle ever,” he said slowly as he opened his eyes. “I wasn’t in the wall portion at all, but we should be able to climb down and enter the castle grounds from here. From there, we can move on to…”
He paused, thinking as he had during the trek here. How best to get from inside the wall to the castle itself? The stable, the barracks, the blacksmith… the chances each of them were filled with people even this early in the day was far too high a risk. Was there a place within the castle itself that might be prone to use only later in the day?
“We will need to avoid the gatehouses and the guardrooms,” he said. “Perhaps… yes. The chapel. There is not a door to leave or enter the chapel from the outside, but there are plenty of windows. It might be easiest to enter there, and there should be few if any persons in there at this hour.”
“Another idea if I may suggest it,” Horatio murmured, “is there a chamber constructed beneath the rampart?”
“A casemate or undercroft?” Marcellus grimaced and rubbed his chin. “It is possible, but I was never brought there myself. If we do find an underground room, it will be difficult to determine what exactly is above us. What if we end up in one of the gatehouses? The guards there will almost certainly recover any surprise in time to kill at least some of us, and I would prefer for us to lose no more.” His tone turned grim.
“That would leave us at a disadvantage,” Horatio admitted.
“Crossing the open grounds of the bailey to reach the chapel, which is inside the castle itself instead of a separate building I assume…” Flavius waited to continue until Marcellus nodded. “We will be exposed, but I think we may end up more vulnerable if we travel through the undercroft and travel about blind.”
“There might not even be an underground component to the castle,” Marcellus.
“Most likely there is, but I agree. To the chapel we will go.” Horatio moved to stand by one of the many open areas cut into the stone. “Where is the chapel?”
Although this tower was one of the shortest ones, they could see the castle from here, and Marcellus pointed to the precise location of the chapel. “Far to the east, not quite the corner.”
“No stained glass?” Horatio questioned.
“Inside,” Marcellus said. “I did see the interior once.”
Flavius glanced upward. “The sun is only going to continue to rise. We should go now.”
“Yes,” Marcellus agreed. The chances of discovery increased the longer the delayed moving.
Horatio insisted that she and half of the Valkyries descended first, and then Marcellus, Flavius, and the other warriors all went, the second half of the Valkyries bringing up the flank.
Without hesitating, they moved onward as soon as their boots touched the ground, and they clung to the limited, decreasing shadows of the various buildings, heading ever closer to the castle, mindful of the people moving about, especially as they inched around the royal stable.
Finally, when it seemed they might reach the chapel without incident, a shout went up. A loud clamor echoed out, bells rang, and guards descended from out windows and on the grounds, heading straight for them.
“Do not divert from the plan,” Flavius shouted. “Continue onward!”
Marcellus agreed. They might well be overrun if they stood their ground and fought here in the open, but if they could claim the chapel, the guards would have to enter through the window as they had, which would limit how many they would face at a time, even if the guards within the castle began to descend.
Ahead, Horatio had already reached the chapel. Her spear tore shattered the glass, and the Valkyries climbed through with ease.
The clang of battle filled Marcellus’ ears. The men and wom
en behind him were engaging the enemy, but Flavius yanked on Marcellus’ wrist and shoved him toward the window. He climbed through, barely had time to recognize that they alone were in the small room, and stood at the window, helping the others through, even as the Valkyries stood by the other windows, removed the arrows they had hidden on their backs, and notched and fired arrows, one after another, sometimes even multiple at a time.
Marcellus ignored the statues devoted to the Fates and then hesitated, nodding first to Chaos, Life, Death, and finally Peace. Swiftly, he marched over to the door.
“I will take the lead,” he said.
Horatio pursed her lips. “Together,” she allowed.
She threw open the door, and standing there was a vicar.
Marcellus grimaced. “You must stand aside, Albert Leeson,” he said, almost pleading. He did not wish to slay a man of the Fates. That would hardly bless their quest.
The vicar’s back was stooped more than normal, and he shuffled off to the side without a war.
Marcellus nodded to him and headed down the hallway. Only a few steps down, more guards and knight rushed to meet them, and Marcellus eased into a fighting stance. Now was the time to take the castle, to start the process of changing the future of Dragoona, and to turn Tenoch Proper into Vincana Proper.
51
Ulric Cooper
The moment news reached Ulric that the Vincanans had breached the shore and was marching toward Atlan Castle, Ulric continued to arm the peasants for precisely three more days. On the fourth, he sneaked through the castle walls and stayed there. He armed himself with both a sword and bow, a quiver of arrows on his back.
All of this had started because Ulric had wished to become one of Rosalynne’s guards. He might be self-taught with the weapons, but he hoped he could hold his own. If not, well, then he would much rather die fighting for Atlan and Tenoch then to die a traitor’s death for a crime he did not commit.
It took another day for the Vincanans to arrive, or so Ulric heard from the distant sounds and familiar clashing of blades. Ulric had been hiding behind the castle, not wanting to be caught and executed on the spot before he had a chance to fight.