Amorlia

by Chris Wichtendahl

  Reunion

  Esper Kitrel sat atop a large rock at the base of the monastery’s hill. From there, he could see much of the vast plains, while still being hidden from anyone approaching. Thus did he spot the lone figure walking up the rocky lane that led to the monastery’s gates. He would wait on his perch until they came closer, then jump down and challenge them. He was very excited. No one had come to the monastery in weeks, not since the last of the refugees from the farmlands. He looked closer. It was a woman who approached, wearing what looked like a formal gown that had been augmented with leather armor. He crouched low atop his rock. She was very close. Likely, she was some noblewoman who’d been evicted from her country estate and sent wandering the plains. She would be tired, hungry, likely scared, so when he- “Esper Kitrel.” The sound of his name startled him so much he lost his balance and fell from the top of the rock. He looked up from where he’d fallen and saw the woman looking down at him. Her hair was white, and across her eyes... “Princess Artemis!” he gasped, struggling to rise to his feet. Once there, he nearly fell again attempting to bow. “Forgive me,” he said, “I was only-” “You were taking your shift on guard duty, and thought you’d relieve the boredom by scaring an unsuspecting noblewoman,” Artemis interrupted, grinning. The lad was barely into his teens, an apprentice in the industrial trades, by the look of him and not much experienced at dealing with nobility. “Relax, boy,” she said, patting his shoulder, “It’s a dull job. Though you’d best get back to it.” “I-I could escort you to-” “Not necessary,” Artemis shook her head, “I’ve been here before. I know the way.” She continued up the path to the imposing fortress atop the tall hill. The Luna’s Blade was moored at the tallest tower. As she walked, the boy climbed back up his rock to watch her go. “Artemis Vega,” he whispered to himself and whistled, “Things are really going to start happening now.” The excitement that greeted Artemis upon her arrival was such that she could barely make her way through the courtyard. Everyone, from monk to noble to farmer to tradeswoman, wanted to know where she’d been, how she’d survived and what news of the Land. “One side!” a woman’s deep voice bellowed, “ONE SIDE!” Everyone stepped aside, clearing a path for Admiral Carola Dellas. She strode across the courtyard toward the wayward princess. The two women regarded each other a few moments, then Carola smiled. “You look like you’ve quite the story to tell,” she said. Artemis smiled back, “That I do, though most of it will have to wait. I need to see Kael.” “Artemis,” Carola began gently, “I don’t know how much you-” Now. Carola winced slightly, then looked on her friend’s daughter with new eyes, “Yes,” she said slowly, “a story to tell indeed. Come on,” she gestured for Artemis to follow her, “he’s this way.” The people rushed after them, but were stopped in their tracks by a stern glare from the admiral. They went back to their business, though there was a new spring in their step, and every one of them felt a hope they’d not known since the Nazeans came. As Artemis and Carola walked the wide halls of the monastery, Artemis looked with interest on the people moving to and fro. Each of them paused to gape at the princess, but a look from Carola sent them on their way. “You seem to have the people in line,” Artemis observed. Carola nodded, “We’ve been busy,” she said, “In just over a month, I’ve managed to train a small army up from those that found their way here.” Artemis looked over at the admiral in surprise, “Really?” “Oh yes,” Carola said proudly, “Nobles, commoners, tradespeople... anyone who could fight and was willing to do so. We have a troop of infantry and even a small Rifle Brigade.” She chuckled, “It’s funny, but since the commoners, especially the farmers, are used to training with their local militias, most of them are serving as officers over the nobles. It has proved quite an education for all involved.” Artemis nodded, smiling, “Good,” she said, “we may have a chance at this yet. How have you managed to supply yourselves?” Carola laughed, “Thanks to your young speedster friend. He’s been running about the entire Land stealing weapons, ammunition, food, medicines... you name it and your friend Pym has stolen it for us from the Nazeans. In fact, he’s off right n-” A gust of wind blew their hair and Artemis’ gown, and Pym stood before them, smiling at Carola. “Three more rifles, a few swords and a bunch of ammunition, Admiral,” he reported with a salute, “I’m going to grab a snack, then head out and-” He noticed Artemis then and said casually, “Oh. You’re back,” he smirked, “Took you long enough.” Artemis smiled, and a tear made its way down her cheek. She grabbed Pym and hugged him close. His arms tightened around her, and they held each other for a while. “I missed you,” she whispered. “Me too.” They stood back from one another, each one wiping their eyes and smiling. “You seem to be making yourself useful,” Artemis said. Pym shrugged, “Oh, you know, I like to keep busy.” Then, “Have you seen Kael?” “Going there now.” “Did you, uh...” Artemis nodded, “I did.” Pym smiled, “Great. Can I come with you?” “I was about to ask.” “Well,” Carola cleared her throat, “I have duties to attend to. Artemis, you seem well in hand, though I’d like to speak with you later.” “Of course,” Artemis nodded. Carola stood a moment, then pulled Artemis into her own embrace. “I’m very happy to see you, little princess,” she said into the younger woman’s ear. “And I you, Auntie Carola,” Artemis replied. They separated, and Carola turned to Pym, “When she comes to me later, I want you with her,” she said. “Aye, ma’am,” Pym saluted again. Carola walked back the way she’d come, while Artemis and Pym continued on. “You know,” Artemis said to him, “there’s something so sarcastic in your salutes.” “I know,” Pym grinned, “that’s why I keep doing it.” At last they came to a large wooden door. Pym knocked. “Come in,” a muffled voice called from inside. They opened the door and stepped into a round empty chamber. In the center of the room, Kael had been laid out on a large canopy bed, the light of an early summer evening streaming in through a wide window to bathe him in radiance. His skin was pale, and a few red feathers had fallen to the stone floor. Father Jorrin sat at his bedside, and it was clear he had been weeping. He looked up at their approach, and broke into a wide smile at the sight of Artemis. “Oh!” he jumped to his feet, fresh tears brimming in his eyes, “Oh, my sweet little Huntress, you’ve come back to us at last.” He rushed to her and threw his arms around her, “Praise be to the Lord, for he has led you home.” “Hello, Father,” Artemis smiled, kissing the old monk on the head, “it is so good to see you.” Father Jorrin saw her gaze go to the slumbering Champion. “He is not well,” he said, “Our prayers have kept him alive, but it is a living death at best. Without his soul...” his voice broke. “Shhh,” Artemis patted his arm, “All is not lost.” She approached the bed, looking sadly down at the stricken face of her love. She sat lightly on the mattress next to him and stroked his cheek. Then, without a word, she leaned down and kissed him fully on the lips. A surge of energy coursed through her, and suddenly she felt Kael kissing her back. His arms came up around her and held her as tight as his weakened muscles would allow. Their lips parted, and his eyes opened. Both were smiling through their tears. “Hello,” he whispered. “Hello,” she said back, laughing joyfully. “I had the strangest dream,” he said. She laughed again and hugged him tight, “I know,” she told him, “I was there.” Kael’s eyes widened, “You mean...” Artemis nodded, “It all happened.” He reached up and touched her cheek. She took his hand in her own and kissed it. “Then it would appear I owe you my thanks,” he said. “You can thank me later,” she said with a crooked grin, “once you’ve gotten your strength back,” she winked, “You’re going to need it for what I have in mind.” She sniffed at herself, “Though, I could really use a bath first.” He laughed softly, “I’m sure I could stand to have one as well.” Artemis nodded, “You really could,” she gazed down at him and stroked his hair, “But I don’t care about that right now,” she whispered. “Nor I,” he said, “Right now, I really just want you to hold me.” Artemis lay down next to Kael on the bed, wrapping her arms around him and resti
ng his head on her shoulder. “Until the day I die, my love,” she promised, “Until the day I die.” The two reunited lovers stayed that way for quite a while, sometimes talking, sometimes simply staring into each other’s eyes. They never even noticed when Pym and Father Jorrin left the room.

  The Eve of Battle

  Kael T’Ken flew, basking in the light of the afternoon sun. It had been three days since Artemis had awoken him with her kiss and he was feeling much more his old self. He caught an updraft and soared higher, coming around at last to approach the tallest of the monastery’s towers. “Well, it’s about time,” Artemis griped. Kael looked down at her as she looked up. He held her under her arms and she held onto his. “A bit uncomfortable, are you?” he asked with a grin. “This isn’t the easiest position, no,” she said, then, with a sly grin of her own, “Besides, there are other places I’d rather you put your hands.” “My god, woman,” he marveled, “do you think of nothing else?” “Darling,” she drawled, “you’re just lucky there’s work that needs doing, else you’d barely be fit to walk.” She looked down as they approached, “Here it is. Okay. On my mark... now!” Kael let her go and she fell toward the ground. No sooner did her lover release her, than she let fly her faerie rope, which wrapped around the facade of the roof. She swung about, heading straight for one of the windows. Father Jorrin put the finishing touches on his latest journal entry and sanded the ink to help it dry, then rose from his desk to take a turn about his office, pausing every so often to admire some small trinket or artifact. He was glad he’d be staying behind from the assault on the capital. He never knew what to pack for these things. Suddenly, Artemis crashed through his window and flew across the room, slamming into the opposite wall and smashing a bookshelf to bits. She stood and shook her head to clear it. “Ah, Father Jorrin,” she said, he face red, “terribly sorry about the bookshelf,” she looked around, “and... the window,” she cleared her throat, “Kael and I are still working on that maneuver.” “Well,” the old Solarian priest said with a patient smile, “you hit the window this time. That’s better than the side of the building, at least.” “Yes,” Artemis said, brushing herself off, “but I was aiming for Pym’s room. He’s been in there with that one novice, I forget his name, since after dinner last night.” She smirked, “I wanted to surprise them.” Father Jorrin laughed, “Ah, Deron, yes. They’ve been inseperable since he caught your young friend’s eye.” He smiled, “The bloom of new love has done much to raise everyone’s spirits.” Artemis grinned, “Yes, I’d imagine so. Though I still wish to tease him about it. Here,” she said, “let me help clean up.” Kael arrived within minutes and pitched in, so that when an aide to Carola Delas arrived to summon all three to council, he had no idea that a woman had recently crashed through the window. Later, once Kael, Artemis, Father Jorrin and Admiral Delas had been joined by a tired and disheveled-looking Pym, the final preparations for the assault began. “All right,” Carola unrolled a map of the capital city, with key locations marked in red, “Pym will preface the assault by running at speed through the city and dealing with the Brain Masters.” Pym raised his hand, “How will I be doing that again?” Carola raised an eyebrow, “I imagined you’d simply kill them. Even an unconscious telepath can be dangerous. You’ve no qualms about that, do you?” “Killing Brain Masters?” Pym’s eyes grew dark, and his perpetual smile slipped a bit, “No. No, I’ve no problem killing Brain Masters.” “Good,” Carola nodded, “Once Artemis gets the all clear from Pym, she and Kael will make their appearance. The populace will be disoriented with their controllers dead, so the sight of the Champion and the Princess returning together should have quite the impact on their-” A knock at the door. “Young Lady Iris,” Artemis announced, “daughter of Lord Mulgrave. She seems quite perturbed about something.” “I’m sure I can guess what,” Carola stood, rolling her eyes, “She’s a fine riflewoman, but not the most disciplined girl I’ve ever met. Seems a bit full of her own importance.” The door opened, and Lady Iris walked in, clearly angry. “Admiral Delas,” she said, in the clipped tones one takes when speaking to a recalcitrant servant, “it has been three days since I made my request for transfer, and I’ve yet to hear from you. If you think I intend to march into our fair city led by a common farmer, then you-” “Choose your words carefully, Riflewoman,” Kael’s deep voice cut across her tirade, “my parents are common farmers.” “Aye,” Pym said, “and mine were merchants.” “You’ll make no friends in this room speaking ill of the common folk, Lady Iris,” Artemis said, “And to be honest, I would question your priorities so close to-” “My priorities?” Lady Iris turned to glare at the princess, “Who are you to lecture me on priorities? Where were you while we of the nobility suffered the indignity of-” Her words were cut off as Carola and Father Jorrin began shouting. “How dare you? Do not forget you address the Heir to the Throne herself!” “You’ll keep a civil tongue in that head around the Princess, young lady!” “No no,” Artemis said quietly, looking straight at Lady Iris, “she asks a valid question.” She stood and walked slowly toward the young noblewoman. Lady Iris thought she had gained the upper hand, and grinned smugly at the admiral and the priest, who had both stepped back once Artemis got involved. It was only after looking into Artemis’ eyes that Lady Iris began to suspect she’d made a grave error. “Where was I?” Artemis repeated the question, musing on it as she drew herself up to her full height, which was a full head taller than the young lady before her, “What,” she asked casually, “have I been doing since the Nazean attack?” She stood directly in front of Lady Iris, looking down at her, “Here,” she said with a smile, “let me show you.” Lady Iris felt her mind pulled open, her memories filled with experiences that weren’t hers. The murder of Anders Vega, abuse at the hands of Fedrich Ma’Caer, the Shadow... Hell. When she returned to her senses, she was curled up on the floor, weeping hysterically. “That,” Artemis said sharply, “is where I have been and what I’ve been doing.” She stood looking down at the huddled noble, her eyes glowing faintly, “Does it compare, would you say, with all that you and your fellow nobles have ‘suffered’?” Lady Iris shook her head, then nodded, then shook her head, all the while wracked with great hitching sobs, “I-I-I’m suh-suh-sorry! I duh- didn’t know!” Steel flashed in Artemis’ eyes, “Now you do,” she growled, “Get up.” Artemis rose, but Lady Iris remained where she was. Artemis snarled, “I said GET UP!” NOW! Lady Iris recoiled from the telepathic command, but rose unsteadily to her feet, still sobbing and weeping. “Stand at attention,” Artemis ordered. Lady Iris complied, and Artemis came to within an inch of her face. “Listen to me very closely,” she said, her voice quiet yet rough, “This is the last any of the nobility will complain at having commoners in command positions. If they are in command, it is because they have proved themselves more fit for it than any of you. Are we clear on this point, Lady Iris?” The young noblewoman nodded, unable to speak. “Good,” Artemis walked away, then turned back and said, “You will make certain your peers understand this as well, yes?” Another nod. “Good. Now, get out. We have much to do, and tomorrow we go to battle. Get some sleep.” Lady Iris nodded one final time, saluted and rushed out the door. When Artemis turned to face the others, she was surprised to see Father Jorrin doubled over with laughter. “What’s so funny?” “Oh, nothing,” he said, wiping his eyes, “nothing.” He sighed, controlling himself. “You are your father’s daughter, that much is certain.” Artemis smiled, taking her seat. “I suppose it’s a good thing she barged in here,” Carola said, looking at Artemis with an odd expression on her face. “Oh?” “Yes. Now it has been made clear exactly who is in charge and why,” she explained, “That girl will follow you to the Underworld and back now. And by the time she’s told the tale to her friends, they will too.” Her tone of voice suggested she wasn’t quite sure how she felt about that. “I’ve been,” Artemis said, “and found it wanting. I’ll settle for them following me into battle... and after.” “I’d say you can count on it,” Kael o
ffered. “Good,” Artemis looked thoughtful, “because I intend to ask much, from all our people, even after the Nazeans have been dealt with. There are changes coming,” she warned, “and not all of them will be easy.” “Change never is,” Father Jorrin offered, “but perhaps we might return to the plans for tomorrow, and leave the future be for now. We’ve enough to occupy us,” he gestured at the map. “Quite right,” Kael chimed in, though he put an arm about Artemis, flashing a supportive smile and thought at her. She smiled back, then set her attention on the plans. As they talked, Artemis could feel Carola studying her. The princess sensed a growing mistrust from her father’s old friend. Mistrust and something akin to… resentment? Artemis considered probing Carola’s thoughts deeper, to ascertain whether the Admiral planned mischief, but discarded the notion. Carola Delas had proved her loyalty to the Land and the Monarchy many times before Artemis had even been born. On top of that, she was as beloved to the Princess as a favorite Aunt. These thoughts of resentment and mistrust were likely just a bit of chafing at her new position. Yes, Artemis nodded to herself, that had to be it. Across the table, Carola Delas tried to keep her attention on the plans, but could not keep from glaring at the young heir.