Amorlia

by Chris Wichtendahl

  A Land at War

  Artemis paced in front of Admiral Delas, trying to bring her temper under control before speaking. This was proving difficult, as all she wanted to do was beat the other woman to a bloody pulp. The memory of the last person she did that to served to quell her rage, as did the man who entered her office then. “I saw Pym when I arrived, “ Kael said, “and he told me you might need me here. What’s going--oh,” he noticed Carola for the first time, “hello, Admiral. I am delighted to report that your troops performed-” “Do not report to her,” Artemis’ voice was a low growl, “for she may not be Admiral any longer.” “You would not dare to remove me from--” Carola began, but was cut off as Artemis stormed over, putting her face mere inches from the older woman. “I will do,” she spoke through clenched teeth, “what is necessary. Do not presume to tell me my business again.” “Then do not presume to tell me mine,” Carola responded defiantly. “Your business!” Artemis yelled, throwing off Kael’s hands as he tried to pull her back, “Your business?! What is your business, Carola? Because after what I saw today, I’m not sure I know anymore.” “Wait,” Kael tried to interject, “what happened today?” “My business,” Carola ignored him, focusing on Artemis, “is as it has always been, as it was before you were born.” She stood proudly, still defiant, “My business is the defense of this Land and its people.” Artemis laughed without humor, “The same people you have been torturing in a secret dungeon below the palace? Are those the people you are defending?” “I told you that you would not understand,” Carola said. “Torture?” Kael entered the fray. Turning to Carola, “You’ve been torturing citizens?” “I have been torturing our enemies,” Carola spat, “to get them to reveal the location of their fellows.” “You said something similar in the dungeon,” Artemis said, “And I repeat the question I asked you then. You have proof that every one of those people is an enemy of Vega?” Carola grit her teeth, “I have strong suspicions,” she said. “‘Strong suspicions’?” Artemis was incredulous. “You are torturing potentially innocent civilians because you have ‘strong suspicions’?!” “Admiral,” Kael said calmly as Artemis resumed her furious pacing, “you must understand something. The people of this Land suffered cruelly under the occupation. It is our duty to make them feel safe. They must know they can trust us. If we behave as the villains who took this Land from us, we--” “Villains?” Carola laughed derisively, “This is war, Champion,” she made the title an insult, “There are no villains or heroes, here. There is simply one side and the other, both willing to do whatever it takes to win.” “We should be better than that,” Kael insisted. “A very noble sentiment, Kael,” Carola said, “Sadly, nobility is often the first casualty of war.” “Followed closely by honor, it would seem,” Artemis spoke softly yet firmly. “I am fighting for our Land!” Carola shouted, “For our people! Against an enemy that seeks to utterly destroy our way of life!” “So you would sacrifice that way of life,” Kael asked gently, “even as you fight for it?” “Oh, please,” Carola made a dismissive gesture, “Spare me the dramatics, Champion. We are talking about a handful of people, most of whom are almost certainly guilty!” “And the innocent?” Artemis challenged. Carola said nothing, simply glaring at the young Monarch. “Another casualty, I suppose,” Artemis answered for her. “We are not all telepaths, Your Majesty,” Carola muttered, “able to sift friend from foe.” “You are right,” Artemis said, coming closer, “but you know that I am. And I am at a loss to understand why you did not simply bring your prisoners to me, so that I could do just as you say and separate the innocent from the guilty. I do not understand why you needed to take matters into your...” Realization dawned suddenly. “Your own hands,” Artemis whispered, “that’s it.” She moved closer to Admiral Delas, who found she could not move away. “What,” the other woman stammered, “what are you...” “You had a taste of the crown while all believed me dead,” the Monarch said as she lay hands on Carola’s head, “and you liked it,” she leaned in closer, whispering, “didn’t you?” “No,” Carola tried to pull back, but could not, “No, please, I did not-” Artemis slid a probe into Carola’s thoughts, still speaking as she did so, “I thought I detected a certain degree of bitterness from you at the coronation,” she said, “but I was unwilling to consider just how far it might go.” Suddenly, within Carola’s mind, a glyph appeared. It was a symbol of the ancient language, intended to block a strong telepath. That it would exist unspoken deep in the mind suggested extensive meditation on the glyph, or an insertion by another powerful mind. Artemis rewrote the glyph so it instead gave her complete access to the mind of Carola Delas. What she found there shocked her, and she pulled back with a gasp. “You,” she whispered, betrayed, “you plot to assassinate me.” She shook her head, “You were planning to seduce Father Jorrin, to enlist his unwitting aid in your scheme. You sought to make me a martyr, to use the people’s grief to seize power and to use my memory to legitimize your own agenda.” Carola said nothing, simply staring at the floor. Artemis backed further away, turning from the woman who had been her father’s most trusted advisor, the woman who had often played the role of elder sister or favorite aunt to the young princess-in-waiting. Artemis did not want Carola to see her cry, but could not stem the tears that fell. Her voice a rough whisper, she instructed Kael to place Carola Delas under arrest. We will make a formal announcement later, she thought to him as he led the disgraced officer from Artemis’ office, though I will make official the stripping of her rank and title immediately. What of her trial? Later. Kael’s thoughts were soft and gentle, wrapping themselves around her bruised psyche, Shall I return to you once she is locked away? Please, Artemis thought back, I will need you. Kael promised to return quickly, then broke the connection. Artemis stood at the window, looking out over her Land, letting the tears fall freely. ****** Later, in her cell, Carola Delas chopped off the long steel-colored hair she normally wore in a tight bun. What remained was a ragged mess, though she paid it no mind. Then, with the same sharp stone she’d used to cut her hair, she gouged open her forearm, letting the blood fall on the pile of hair. With some flint and a bit of dry bedding, she managed to set the grisly pile alight. Blood continued to stream from the ragged wound in her arm, but she did not care. She stripped off the plain prisoner’s gown and knelt naked before the fire. Soon, a face appeared in the flames. “You are discovered,” the ghostly face did not ask, clearly stating a fact. “Yes, my Mistress,” Carola bowed her head. “No matter,” the fiery apparition said dismissively, “Your ruse would not have lasted much longer at any rate.” “She was able to bypass the glyph,” Carola said, “and so uncovered my plans. If she could see that deeply into my mind...” The apparition laughed, “Do not fear. She found no evidence of our... association.” “What would you have me do now, Mistress?” Carola asked nervously. “Do not fear, my beloved servant,” the other assured her, “There is still much you will do for me. However,” Carola was cautioned, “do nothing as yet. When the time is right, those loyal only to you will secure your freedom. You will then steal an airship of your choosing and flee the palace, taking your loyal followers as crew. You will find a place to hide and you will contact me again. I will give further instructions then.” Carola bowed lower, “As you wish, Mistress.” “Yes,” the flaming vision told her. “Oh,” it said, almost as an afterthought, “and be sure to use a proper sacrifice next time.” Then she was gone, leaving Carola Delas alone in the darkened cell. “It shall be as you command, Mistress,” the former admiral whispered, pulling on the rough gown. She stood and scattered the smoldering remnants of charred hair with her bare foot. “All shall be as Queen Umbra commands.”

  Sa’raa and Michra

  Sa’raa and Michra stepped off the train at the station in the village of Baern. It was named after Vega’s youngest son, who, according to legend, introduced agriculture to the primitive humans who had roamed his mother’s Land. It was one of the oldest farming villages in Vega, and therefore among the largest. People throng
ed the streets, and Sa’raa was nearly overwhelmed by the strange sights, the cacophony of sound and the variety of smells. She had not traveled extensively among the villages of the Wild Lands, preferring the solitude of the forest to the crowds of civil society. She was relieved when, having purchased supplies, Michra led her out of the village down a wide dirt road. They would walk through the surrounding farms until they reached the plains, which met the Wild Lands in the north. It would take but a few days. “What I’m really curious about,” Michra said, chewing on a strip of dried beef, “is what was wrong with everyone when we left this morning. Did you see Artemis? She looked so sad.” Sa’raa nodded, “I know. Even Pym was subdued, and he always has a smile on his face.” “So what do you think is going on?” Sa’raa shook her head, “I’ll be damned if I know. I’m sure whatever it is will make itself known soon enough.” “Mm.” For a while, the two young women walked in companionable silence. A while after that, and the silence became less companionable, edging toward uncomfortable. “So,” Michra said, breaking the silence. “Yes?” Sa’raa glanced over. “Tell me about this young man of yours,” Michra said finally, “how did you meet him?” “Well,” Sa’raa began, smiling. “Well, well, well,” a rough voice spoke from behind them. They turned, and saw a group of hard-looking men. There were five, and they began to spread out to surround the girls. The leader spoke again, stroking his stubbled chin, “What’s two young bits of tasty like you doin’ out on the road all by yer lonesomes?” He leered at them, then grinned at his companions, “Figure you girls might be needin’ escorts, eh?” Michra glanced over at Sa’raa, disgust evident on her face, “Did he just call us ‘tasty’?” Sa’raa scowled, “You know, I believe he did. What do you think they are?” Michra nodded back the way they’d come, appearing to ignore the men continuing to surround them, “I heard tales in the village about groups of Nazean soldiers who were roaming the countryside harassing travelers. They were left behind when their army fled, and make their living through theivery.” “Hmm,” Sa’raa watched the men with bemused interest. None had bathed since long before they’d been abandoned, and all had the look of hard drinkers about them. Clearly, Nazean military discipline was rather lax. None seemed armed with more than bladed weapons, though there could be pistols hidden about their persons. “So,” she asked Michra casually, her hands resting on the hilts of her long knives, “do you want them?” “Oh, I couldn’t,” Michra said, “not all of them, anyway. I don’t want to hog all the fun.” She thought a moment, watching as the men finally encircled them, “Why don’t I--” “Hey now girlies,” the leader called out, “what’s this gabbin’ about? You get yer purses out and hand ‘em over, and we might just be gentle with yeh later.” “Do you mind?” Michra looked crossly at the leader, “we’re in the middle of a conversation. I swear,” she muttered, “some people.” “Seriously,” Sa’raa made a face. “Anyway,” Michra continued, “why don’t I take these two trying to sneak up on our right, and you take those on the left. We’ll save the chatty one for last.” Sa’raa smiled, sliding her knives from their sheaths, “Excellent notion.” Michra returned the smile and drew one of her guns. She put a bullet between the eyes of each of hers while Sa’raa slit the throats of her own would-be attackers. His companions bleeding out into the dirt, the leader started backing away, his face pale and his eyes wide. “Uhhh,” he held up a hand to ward of the approaching young women, “let me just start by saying how sorry I am, terribly sorry, for my crude language and the insinuation that we meant you young ladies any harm at all. In fact,” he cringed, “if I could just be on my way, I’ll...” his voice trailed off as he watched Sa’raa transform into the jungle cat. Without warning, he was flat on his back and she stood on his chest, growling in his face. Michra stood next to Sa’raa and looked down at the terrified brigand. “What you are going to do,” Michra said, aiming her revolver at his face, “is head back to Baern and turn yourself in to the constable’s office. You’ll tell them exactly who you are, what you’ve been doing, and the names and locations of any others who’ve been up to the same thing.” She smiled evilly, “If you don’t, I’ll find you and feed you to my friend here.” Sa’raa growled again and sniffed at his face. The brigand fainted. Later, walking along the same road, miles away from the foiled ambush, the two young women were still laughing. “Oh, but that was fun,” Michra said, wiping a tear from her eye, “Did you see the look on his face when I told him you’d eat him?” Sa’raa nodded, doubled over with laughter, “I know! And did you notice how fast he wet himself once I changed? That was hilarious!” The girls laughed a while longer, finally sighing and returning to silence. The rest of the afternoon passed quickly without further incident, and they reached the plains by sundown.

  Journey to Drego

  Qi Drego lay on her bunk in the cabin she shared with the Ki- Mon, letting the steady click and clack of the train’s wheels lull her to sleep. Her companion slept below her, snoring softly. They had parted company with the youngsters at Baern and caught a train headed south. They would switch trains again when they reached the border town of Solna and travel east to the capitol city of Drego. As she lingered in the place between waking and sleeping, Qi thought of her brother. Zen Drego was Monarch of his Land, having ascended to the throne in his teens, after their mother had died of a sudden and mysterious illness. Her reign had been long and prosperous and she was much loved by the people. She had fought bravely and fiercely during the Nazean invasion, and legends had already sprung up while she still lived claiming she’d held the Nazeans back from the capitol single-handed. She would always laugh to hear the tale told, claiming she was simply one of many brave souls who fought that day, several of which never saw the day that followed. But despite the veracity of the story, Loa Drego had left a brilliant legacy for her son. Unfortunately for Zen, that legacy cast a long shadow that he was only now, ten years into his reign, beginning to step out of. The fact that he had managed to evacuate every last person from the lowlands ahead of the Nazean advance had done much to earn his people’s regard, and from what Qi had seen, his tireless efforts since had only caused his star to rise. She hoped he was taking some time for himself though. Since assuming the Monarchy, Zen had little time for fun with his younger sister and it was unlikely either one would have much time for anything during her visit. Her thoughts wandered to other things for a while, and eventually she fell asleep. The next morning, Qi and the Ki-Mon sat in the train’s dining car eating breakfast. The Ki-Mon stared out the window at the speeding scenery as she ate. “Fantastic,” she said. “What?” Qi asked, sipping a mug of joltbean tea. “This conveyance we travel in,” the Ki-Mon gestured to encompass the entirety of the train, “is fantastic.” “I guess there are no trains in the Wild Lands,” Qi said. “No,” the Ki-Mon shook her head, “the Wild Lands are mostly forest and brush. There would be nowhere to lay the tracks.” “How do you travel to distant villages?” Qi asked. The Ki-Mon shrugged, “We walk,” she said, matter-of-factly, “well,” she corrected herself, “not entirely. There are certain artifacts remaining from the time of the Mad Wizard that allow us to travel from place to place almost instantly. However, it is several days’ journey from our village to reach one, and they are not exactly the safest way to travel. We only use them when we must visit places too far to walk to.” “See,” Qi said around a mouthful of toast, “that’s what I consider fantastic. You live in the land of the Mad Wizard, surrounded by wonders undreamed of today. It is believed he was the very first Engineer and that all technology is based on his original creations.” “Yes, well,” the Ki-Mon replied darkly, “for every wonder the Mad Wizard created in his day, he unleashed several horrors. My people are surrounded by those too, do not forget.” “Hm,” Qi nodded, “I suppose there is that. I still cannot believe he was still alive as recently as ten years ago.” “Yes, that took us by surprise too,” the Ki-Mon said, finishing a glass of juice. She laughed, “Not that my mother and the War Chief were at all impressed. They said he cri
ed and begged for his life after they foiled his last plot.” “Did you really put his head on a pike at the entrance to your village?” The Ki-Mon smiled, “Of course. We do that with all our enemies.” She winked, “You would be amazed what an incredible deterrent it is to those who would do us harm.” Qi smiled back, shaking her head and chuckling. “What?” the Ki-Mon asked. “Nothing,” Qi said, “Except, the more I get to know you, the more I like you.” The Ki-Mon raised an eyebrow, “Despite my savagery?” Qi frowned, “Hey, I said I was sorry, what more do you--” she broke off, seeing the Ki-Mon’s shoulders shaking with poorly suppressed laughter, “Oh, very funny,” she said, joining in. “So,” the Ki-Mon said once their laughter had subsided, “how do you think the young ones are faring?” Qi chuckled, “Oh, I’m sure they’ve managed to get into some sort of trouble by now,” she said. ****** At that moment, miles away in the middle of the great northern plains, Sa’raa and Michra stood surrounded by a group of Huntsmen. Spears and arrows were leveled menacingly at the two women, while a young man approached with rope to bind their hands. Michra had emptied her guns without hitting any of their assailants, and Sa’raa had been swiftly disarmed. A charm spoken in the First Language kept her from changing to her feline form. “Any ideas on getting out of this?” she asked her companion. “I was hoping you had one,” Michra answered.