Autumn felt the tension of her body leaving as her every muscle realized that there was no need to fight. Her eyes welled slowly with tears.
A woman wearing the scarlet gloss of Aurea's soldiers peered out at Autumn from behind the mask of her helmet. Her eyes were a loving brown. She extended her arms while offering up a long bundle. “For you, Highness,” she said gently.
The dark-haired Queen accepted the gift with a cautious air. She warily unwrapped the object. What dwelt within reveled in the light.
A bronze hilt flashed brightly. Swaddled lovingly beside it was a golden hilt, the Queen recognized all too easily as her father's sword. Autumn released a quavering breath as she drew her sword from the cloth. She lifted her eyes to see that two other soldiers held out their hands.
They pulled away the coverings to show the Queen's armor and shield.
As her bluing eyes roved over the distance, Autumn began to see hands rising to remove their helmets. One by one, she recognized the faces of her men.
Emotions wreaked havoc at her legs. They robbed them of their strength until Autumn collapsed. She dropped to her knees and wept.
“We are with you, my Queen,” she heard. It rang out like tolls chiming from a tower somewhere in the distance.
Autumn lifted her eyes. Through her tears, she locked eyes with Zahara. It was Zahara who had protected her swords so dutifully.
“We are with you, Honored Mother,” came another voice. Autumn turned her head to see Echo's shimmering brown eyes.
The stormy blue-gray of Autumn's eyes witnessed the overwhelming loyalty so clearly housed within each pair of eyes to gaze back at her. Her words struggled to choke past the lump inside her throat. “I am hunted by the Empress, my family,” she said. “If you stand by me, you will all die.”
“We are staying with you,” a voice uttered from above.
Lifting her head, Autumn smiled as she took in Frost so calmly poised as a lookout within the trees. She realized then that her men were emerging from every conceivable direction. Narrowing her eyes, she scanned the horizon until she could begin to make out the blended bodies of others lost within their surroundings.
Returning to the discussion at hand, Autumn spoke. “Your families could be in danger.”
“Our families are already in danger,” Echo argued. “As long as Aurea reigns there is no safe place for anyone. She must be stopped and you now have the authority to do it as the Holy Mother.”
Zahara captured Autumn's gaze. “Any families within the province fled with us when we learned of your capture,” she assured her. “Their loyalties are to you.”
“You still have an army, cousin,” Echo said. Her voice was a soothing promise. “The fight is not over. It is only beginning. Lead us. The others are awaiting your orders.”
Autumn frowned thoughtfully. “Others?”
“You control the armies of three provinces,” Zahara said. Judging by the faces present, she knew that Autumn could clearly see that the allied provinces were still aligned with Angels. “And there are others.”
“Throughout the land, those who abhor Aurea's cruelty have begun organizing themselves,” Echo said. “Anyone loyal to the old ways has banned together.” Her eyes were alight with hope. “There are clusters throughout Pyros. They are with us... with you, Honored Mother.”
Autumn was struck silent. Inwardly, she marveled at the news that there were others like them who existed within the Empire.
Others opposed Aurea, she thought.
She blinked suddenly, realizing the reverent words spoken in addressing her. It crept upon her. Its touch caused her skin to prickle coolly. Honored Mother. She was the Honored Mother.
The Queen placed her hand against her abdomen. The incredible heat which she had felt before was still there. It rose and fell in intensity like a beating heart.
“I must speak with the others,” she said, “but not here. The province is no longer safe and the trackers are but---” Autumn's voice trailed off as she observed the slow-spreading smiles overtaking those in her command. She smiled inwardly as she realized that her men had obviously encountered the supposed problem of the trackers and seen to it.
“There is a place,” Soren uttered weakly. His voice surprised the others. He sat up slowly with Myth's help. She offered up her cape, wrapping it around his exposed body. “I had hoped to take my brothers there once but----” His crimson eyes grew sad and alone.
Reaching out, Autumn gently squeezed his shoulder. “You will bring your family home to it, my friend,” she whispered. “Your family will simply look a bit different than you had first believed.”
Soren smiled for the first time in what felt like ages. “Yes,” he said. His voice was a dreamy sigh. He allowed the words to roll within his mouth, savoring the feel of them. “My family.”
Together, they exchanged meaningful gazes.
Myth spoke softly. “Highness, there is more.” She paused, seeing the hesitant expressions of those around her. She knew then that no one wished to say what she was forced to utter next. “Angels Province has been surrounded. Aurea's men are poised to strike,” she said. “They're going to destroy everything.”
Autumn swayed slightly. “But why?” she asked hoarsely. She shook her head, unable to imagine such a massacre. “The province is loyal to the crown. There are Virtuous churches throughout!”
“But that isn't enough for Aurea,” Zahara sighed. “She wants to wipe out anyone who might know of your baby.”
As tears stung bitterly at her eyes, Autumn's face twisted in denial. “My brother would never allow this to happen,” she declared.
“The Knights are leading the attack,” Zahara countered. She added the next words with as much gentleness as she could, but she understood that however it was said, it would still hurt the Queen. “Angelos is leading them.”
Autumn groaned under her breath. She looked away, overcome with sickness. She fought to steady her breathing, hoping to fend off being ill. “He wouldn't---” she whispered. “How can he do this to his people?”
“To the Empress this is another form of cleansing,” Soren explained gently. “We're all that stands as a reminder of the very thing she's trying to deny. We have proof that the old ways are not gone.”
“But that doesn't explain why Angelos would do this,” Autumn snapped. “Has he forgotten all we were taught? Does duty mean nothing to him?” She stopped, shaking her head wildly. “It's not right. Has he no honor?”
“No,” Soren answered with a sense of finality.
Autumn narrowed her eyes on the druid then lowered her head in defeat. She could not begrudge him his anger toward the Knights or Angelos more specifically. After all, they had committed mass genocide in Aurea's name. Nor could she argue with Soren's words. It was clear to her that her brother had sided with Aurea to save his life. As she felt the presence of those around her, she knew without doubt that each of these warriors would have chosen death above the murder of innocents.
Then a thought came to her. Were they so innocent, she wondered. The people had pleaded for her to be burned. As she thought of their tearful faces, she realized the truth. She knew that fear of Aurea's wrath had led them to react as they had. They were not bad people only frightened.
“How many?” Autumn asked in a whisper.
“They are five thousand strong,” Zahara answered.
“Plus the Holy Six who lead them,” Echo chimed. “And each of them is their own army.”
“When do they attack?” Autumn asked.
“At dawn,” Myth answered.
Autumn uncoiled from the ground. She stood then began to pace while quietly contemplating the odds. She thought back to the men she had lost during the war. With their absence, their numbers were but a mere thousand. She remembered her men fondly. Each one of them had been a soldier she would have entrusted her life to. Indeed as the events played out, she realized that that was precisely what she was going to have to do now. Both, her life and the li
fe of her child were going to depend upon the men who remained.
As she continued to pace, her every step was followed. The soldiers looking to her awaited their orders.
Inspiration came as the clearing of stormy eyes. Autumn stopped then gazed over her shoulder to Soren. Something inside his trusting gaze gave life to the beginnings of a plan.
The druids, she thought, were about to be reborn.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Two hearts. One body. They are bathed in Sacred Fires. They will burn as the guiding torch for others to follow. They are warmth when the world is cold.
----The Book of Wrath
********
The moon reigned over the silent night. She had become a shining deity of gracious beauty. In all her glory, no ruler was ever so gentle or so loving. Yet, the splendor of her rule was nothing more than an illusion.
No amount of radiant stars nor gentle breezes could distract from the fact that all within the province of Angels felt the unmistakable grip of something ominous. It wafted in the air as a tangible element of choking force. All trembled beneath its weight. Shakily, they anticipated what horrors might soon be visited upon them. It was under this might that each restless soul fought only to be rewarded by nightmarish sleep.
********
The Land of Eternal Flame was sheathed beneath the protective veil of night's blanket. That covering was drawn away by time's steady hand.
Wake, world. See what waits for you on this new day.
The new day tentatively took its first steps as a multitude of colors marking across the sky. Their soft colors bled together in a longing for completion. Each hue was of such gentle paleness that they rolled from first one shade into the next subtly.
Along the gracious beauty of Angels, a heavy fog blurred the lines between what was and what sleep-filled eyes might dream.
********
At the very instant of dawn's arrival, the rolling Lucidian horizon held its breath tentatively. Long shadows fell over the untouched smoothness of new-fallen snow. Meekly, those shadows shrank away from the Pyrosians who menacingly advanced with the approach of the sun.
The banners of war were held triumphantly higher. As they clapped loudly in the winds, Whispering Winds' general gave the order. He powerfully motioned with his hand, commanding his troops forward. “The Lucidians are retreating!” he cried. “Drive them back into their cursed sea!”
********
“Vessel?”
“Shh, listen.”
********
Majestic warhorses topped the proud hills. Their hot breaths collided against the cold air to create a demonic smoke near their mouths. Their hooves stamped the ground in a threatening drum, warning those below that they were coming. Upon their armored backs, the horses carried the golden generals of the Imperial army. Together they possessed a blaze like the sun. Though its light was bright and seemingly pure, to look upon it was like looking directly into the sun. The vision was a painful thing best avoided for the sake of one's own sight.
At the generals' backs, a powerful army thunderously crossed the depths of the valley in allegiant pursuit.
Whispering Winds' general suddenly stopped. He felt the color drain from his face. Through his helmet's mask, his eyes reflected the horrors spread out before him.
Poised in readiness within the lee of the hill, the Lucidians waited as a sleeping beast. They thrived with a newfound might. Their fathomless numbers flooded the horizon in a sparkling array of silver and purple.
Suddenly the beast awoke. Their unified cheers rose as a mighty roar. With a violent lurch, the army surged forward. Vengeance thrived inside their faces as the Lucidian attack began.
“Virtue save us,” the General prayed hoarsely with the snarling faces of thousands reflecting inside his eyes.
********
The Knights of Virtue traversed the Province of Angels from the omnipotent heights of the clouds. To the watchful eyes below, they were as scavengers circling above in the hopes of stealing from the weak. Their shadows swept across the land, bringing with them a distinctive shiver. Their eyes scoured the countryside for anything amiss.
What could they have been searching for? The entire province had bunkered down in their homes or in hastily-made shelters while others sought refuge inside the Virtuous churches. It was all done in an attempt to wait out the storm of war.
Did the Knights expect to see the advancing rebellion? Surely the rebels would not be so foolish as to take on the Imperial army? Then again if they did come, it would only mean their destruction along with the province. The Knights had their orders. The land was meant to burn with the intensity of the sins committed against the Empress and against Virtue, itself.
Only when the Knights felt confident that it was safe to join the others did they descended from above. They lowered to the ground where their generals awaited their orders.
The Imperial army was too far to take notice of a tiny rustling sound inside the seemingly deserted streets below. It was the small sound of a rock panel being returned to its home as the last few refugees stole away into the labyrinthine darkness running beneath the province. In a last attempt at salvation, they were using the tunnels to escape before the civil war could claim them.
********
Angelos stared down into the province from the very same vantage which he had known so many times before. He took in his beautiful childhood home, the home of his ancestors, while detachment pulled at his being.
If he had cared for the histories his sister cherished, he might have known about the tunnels. He might have been able to discover the means of safe passage for the rebellion thereby dealing the rebellion a mighty blow, but he was not a studious man. He cared nothing for the past, only his future and ensuring his place within it.
This would be the last time, he told himself. After this battle, there would be nothing left. Nothing. Angels would be a dream.... His father's forgotten dream.
The King donned his golden helmet. The transformation took him. He was again Aurea's most trusted Enforcer. His only loyalties were to the Empress and his own life.
Angelos lifted his sword to the sky, inspiring his men to the ready. His lips parted to release the command when movement caught his eye.
Through the denseness of the fog, a shadow began to take shape.
A sole voice began to sing her haunting song. From the wistful realms of dreams, her voice knew its most commanding strength. It wrapped around the soul, speaking to it with intimate whispers. All were victim to its spellbound beauty.
Angelos shivered within his armor. Once, that voice had commanded their people to many victories. He blinked hard, struggling to make sense of it.
No, he told himself. It was a trick. His mother was dead. And yet, he heard her song. He heard the war chant spurring the ghosts of the past to rise up in defense of Angels.
The shadow remained just within the blanket of obscurity, but it was close enough so that the enticing line of a woman could be seen.
From within the swirling fog, more voices came. They joined the ethereal siren in a chanted song as primordial as the very act of war. Voice by voice, their collective strength grew. And as it did, the very earth began to tremble.
********
“What do you hear, Vessel?”
“The beginning.”
“Of what?”
“The end.”
********
The lavender-gray of swirling fog offered up but a solitary gift. It birthed a figure anointed in bronze armor. She stood with unwavering firmness against the might of the Imperial army. The dark waves of her hair caught in the wind. Long thick strands played across her bewitching face but never concealed the beautiful slate-blue of her eyes.
Autumn drew her swords with a force that ripped at the air. She pointed her father's blade with no uncertain terms to her traitorous brother.
********
The most powerful women in all of Lucidia walked with a confident swa
y. The wintry world around them bowed to their glories. The sun sent its light kneeling at their feet. The wind caressed them lovingly. The fluffy drifts of snow cleared away respectfully to reveal a long narrow carpet of green. They followed its winding path, forever observant of the small child who ran before them.
Vessel's flowing black hair danced merrily in the winds. Her magical blue eyes glinted like the icicles dangling from the trees. She wielded a big stick inside her tiny hand. With swiping motions against imaginary foes, she spoke. “I am coming for you, brother,” she said, her small voice doing its best to muster a booming strength. “I am coming for you and I will not stop until you are kneeling before our ancestors in judgment!”
********
Clenching his teeth, Angelos could feel the eyes of all others upon him. He might have known. Only his sister could have personified their mother so precisely. After all, it was Autumn who embodied the hopes of both their parents.
The dark-haired King cleaved to his resentments, to his jealousies, knowing that he would need their bitterness to perform the acts he must.
Kill Soren and the abomination, he remembered.
The last act joining the siblings came as the sound of their voices crying out their growled commands. Theirs was a morbid harmony. It would be their final tie as together they spurred on the battle of ages.
Glories of the past and promises of the present would each lock heatedly together in a clash to determine the nature of a fledgling future.
“Long live the Empress!” raged powerfully against the furious cry, “The Dragon is with us!”
********
With a forest of ancient trees looming proudly around her, Vessel pointed her stick into the air. Her body defied its young size. She was suddenly tall and proud. She was wise and courageous.
Imaginary sword in hand, she let loose a ferocious cry. She raced forward, leading the charge for her envisioned army.
The Flame of Wrath Page 41