Coven Queen

by Jeramy Goble

  The fight had taken a far more serious turn than anyone had anticipated. But a lost limb was completely within the realm of possibility, and that was understood to be the case by the fight participants, as well as the onlooking Spire and Bedrock. They always trained in the sparring square with full force and intent to harm, and though lethal blows were almost always withheld, plenty of limbs had been lost.

  But Jularra didn’t want to be the reason any limbs or lives were lost. The time had come for the fight to end. She stretched her arms out once more and summoned the sphere of energy between her hands. She pulled, causing the sphere to swell. As she did, each of her summoned clones stopped fighting and stood still. Wona an attack from a cloned Vischuno and raised her sword up to prepare for another, but held it steady as the sparring square fell quiet. Flashes of light from Jularra’s sphere caught Wona's attention. She weaved and swayed, trying to make out what was happening as Jularra crunched her hands towards each other, sending the entire mass of clones towards Wona.

  Wona flew into a defensive panic. Those already near her resumed the fight. There was no advantage for Wona. She was completely surrounded, fighting only for survival. The number of incoming blades increased. She dodged one, then ducked and spun from another before jumping over the sweeping blade of a nearby attacker. She was outnumbered and at an increasing disadvantage. She had avoided any savage attacks until that point, but clearly knew it was just a matter of time before one landed. And while she wasn’t fearful of death or ashamed of loss, Jularra knew the woman wouldn’t want to lose—or die—in a practice match.

  “I submit, I submit, I submit!” Wona screamed, making sure that she was heard. She followed up with one more repetition, even louder.

  “I submit!”

  Jularra pulled her hands back out, stretching the sphere and bringing the fighting to a halt once more. She threw the ball of energy into the air, where it dissipated, causing all the clones to crumble into piles of sand.

  Only Wona, Vischuno and Jularra remained in the sparring area. Vischuno sat on the ground. His remaining two arms rested in his lap, limp and exhausted. Wona, still stumbling back from her last clash with a clone, fell backwards and onto her rear. She couldn’t breathe fast enough.

  Jularra glanced at the stunned crowd. Their enthusiasm had crumbled. Spire and Bedrock searched the sparring square for a winner, but they were disappointed. Though Jularra had technically won, by way of Wona’s submission and Vischuno’s need for rescue, the onlookers’ thirst for glory would have to go unquenched.

  Jularra sheathed her sword and turned to Korden, wanting to get the first inevitable visual exchange with him out of the way once the chaos ended. She knew what she’d see. Korden stood taut, arms folded. His lips were white with disapproval, teeth clenched behind them. His nostrils flared furiously.

  The sound in Jularra’s ears suddenly twisted down to thin pokes of a whistle. Her head throbbed and her vision blurred. Her legs began to give out. She stumbled through a few rapid steps, appearing as if she were catching her feet. Then she blacked out.

  ***

  She came to with Korden leaning over her.

  “Hey." He wagged her head, holding her by the chin.

  “I’m fine.” Her voice was still strong as she sat up.

  “Hey, Vischuno!” she shouted from her seat on the ground. “Bring me your arm.”

  The training yard was the quietest it had been since the match started. Korden gestured at another Bedrock for his waterskin, then swiped it out of his hand and shoved it in front of Jularra’s face.

  Wincing only slightly, Vischuno go his legs underneath him and stood. Though he was bleeding profusely at the site of his third arm’s partial amputation, he quietly shuffled over to where its lower half had fallen. He picked it up and meandered towards the queen.

  “Come on,” she huffed. Her vision swirled in a fresh wave of dizziness. Vischuno quickened his pace. Korden took the opportunity to force Jularra to grab another swig of water.

  Vischuno reached the spot where Jularra sat and dropped to his knees after Jularra waved hurriedly at him. Even on his knees, Vischuno’s shadow still covered her.

  “Someone hold the severed piece up to the rest of his arm,” she ordered. “Almost touching.”

  A Bedrock slipped around the grouped figures and held the severed limb as instructed. Jularra reached up and gently grasped one of the severed arm’s fingers, and touched his leg with her other arm. She bowed her head and closed her eyes.

  “Not yet!” Korden barked. “It’s too soon!”

  But Jularra had already invoked her advanced healing abilities. With her hands touching both Vischuno’s body and severed arm, she willed the microscopic growth of nerve, bone, vein, fat, and tissue, and made the damaged areas reach out and join, connecting with each other once more. Vischuno grunted in pain at the sudden stimulation and movement of the area. A few seconds later, the arm was re-attached.

  The surrounding crowds gasped with respect and awe as Jularra turned to Korden.

  “Ok,” she said, in a breathy whisper. “Going to sleep. Be back soon.”

  Her head fell back. Her body went limp again as she passed out in Korden’s arms.

  Eight

  The imposing men and women of Acorilan settled into formation.

  As the day’s first light began to scale the mountains, Jularra’s forces marinated in the subtle humidity of a lavender fog. The outermost leaves of the trees were tipped with gold, anticipating the beginning of the rapidly approaching autumn. The sparse spots of corn, almost ready for harvest, stretched proudly to the sun despite their loneliness in the faltering fields.

  The queen’s army stood patiently, waiting to march. Korden and Jularra listened as the last few ranks were called to take their place. The commanders’ barks and shouts rang through the valley, rebounded off the mountains, and stoked the fires of war in each fighter. Some tried to postpone the shift from a peaceful to a violent mentality by closing their eyes and inhaling the mountain breeze, but it was only an illusion fueled by the darkness of their lowered eyelids. As soon as their eyes opened once more, the sight of armor, sounds of instruction, and smells of legion upon legion of warriors trampled their senses. The beauty of peace had to be stowed away, forced to survive indefinitely on a dwindling sustenance of hope.

  While the infantry finished the remaining preparations, Jularra and Korden rode a hundred feet up Qualla Trail. The view over the valley was unparalleled, and offered a perfect vantage point before their departure.

  Korden held his hand up to the sun and then glanced at the nearby sunpost.

  “About ten minutes,” he said.

  Jularra glanced at the sunpost with its sundial mounted on top, confirming how the shadow fell along the ground. She turned back to the valley.

  “Pull our archers out from behind Pindle Ridge and move them to the front,” she ordered Korden. “With the Spire right behind them, they’ll be able to move through the fields and village quickly.”

  “Right,” Korden confirmed. He turned his horse, ready to head back down the trail. “Anything else?”

  “No, it looks good,” she said while snapping a nod. “The Ridgerazers are in place?”

  Korden stopped and turned back towards Jularra. “Mm-hmm. And the ones already there know to fall back once the attack begins.”

  “Good.” Jularra scanned the valley again. “Good,” she repeated. “Let’s move those archers and get ready to go.”

  They descended Qualla Trail in silence. Over the years, the two old friends had directed various skirmishes, border disputes, and defenses against raids, but this was the first time they had ever instigated war. There was a tinge of doubt in their initial discussion over the possibility of launching a preemptive attack, but that uncertainty had long passed. Internal propaganda, political marketing, and the increasing visibility of a slowly starving populace eliminated any misgivings. Jularra, and the people of Acorilan, welcomed this war.


  Korden and Jularra hit the bottom of the trail and exchanged half-bows before Korden trotted off to see to the movement of the archers.

  Jularra crested the hill leading into the neighboring valley and came upon the impressive gathering of Ridgerazers. As she approached, they silently turned towards her in unison, clasping their hands together behind their backs before bowing. The Ridgerazers were a mixture of women and men; different in every way possible, but united in magic.

  “Ah, impressive,” she murmured to herself. The Ridgerazers remained sturdy in the presence of their queen. “Is everyone prepared?”

  Grand Ridgerazer Truzona stepped out and spoke for the entire group. Her voice was relaxed. “Our instructions are clear, and we are prepared, my queen.”

  Jularra nodded. “The advance Ridgerazers are in place and are ready.” She strained to view another nearby sunpost and turned back to Truzona. “Five minutes.”

  Truzona nodded and returned to her fellow Ridgerazers. “Prepare yourselves!” she commanded, then closed her eyes. The pitch of her voice lowered, simultaneously beginning to grow in volume and reverberate through the immediate area. “Center! Summon your strength. Unite our energies! Focus on our task.”

  The Grand Ridgerazer’s voice lowered more. The sounds she emitted seemed to split, almost as if she were speaking with numerous voices. The volume and strength of the echo continued to grow.

  As the Ridgerazers initiated their ritual, Jularra looked back across the valley. Her people were ready, and the archers had been moved. Her skin tingled with the anticipation of battle. She flexed her toes in her boots and stretched her feet inside her stirrups.

  Jularra looked to the sunpost. The creeping shadow closed in on a minute from their marching time. With a glance to a pair of waiting Bedrock, Jularra signaled for them to sound a final call to attention. Their horns—massive combinations of natural and artificial construction—were made mostly of buffalo horn, with substantial extensions of leather and wood attached to the wide openings. The Bedrock slid the instruments up to their mouths from strings looped around their shoulders.

  The sound created by the buzzing lips of the players shot out from the horn and through the diaphragms and channels created by the leather-and-wood structure, amplifying the call and giving it a uniquely organic timbre. The Bedrock blew two rapid blasts followed by an extended note that took the rest of their stored air. The sustained note started out high, but quickly slid down into the lowest pitch possible for the horns, settling into a close and ominous harmony. When the Bedrock ran out of air, they let their horns drop to their sides before bowing to Jularra, and jogged off to join their fellow Bedrock.

  Sounds of readiness broke out from the valley below.

  “Prepare for quick march!”

  “One minute!”

  “Ready arms!”

  Thirty seconds from the beginning of the attack. Jularra smiled as the distant exclamations shifted to rallying war cries.

  The remaining sounds from the valley were drowned out. The Ridgerazers had begun their ritual.

  Eighty Ridgerazers—forty on each side of the valley’s northern end—stood shoulder to shoulder, tightly compacted. Each individual stood with their hands touching at the palm, their fingers pointing out towards the center of the valley. As the final command was given to march, a massive oval of energy began forming between the two groups of Ridgerazers.

  Jularra peered down into the heart of the valley. The regular infantry, Bedrock, and Spire were on the move.

  Quick march for one hundred paces first.

  Then jog one hundred paces

  Then sprint.

  Jularra silently repeated the plan, trusting that her forces were doing the same. It had to be a perfectly coordinated effort. The Ridgerazers could not maintain the portal indefinitely.

  The oval of energy between the two groups of Ridgerazers grew. The summoned energy poured like fog, spreading into a thin film that stretched across the valley. To the unpracticed eye, the wall of energy would have appeared impenetrable. But this was no hindrance. It was an energy pass—a summoned mechanism to allow great distances to be condensed exponentially and traveled rapidly. For every energy pass entry point, there was a group of Ridgerazers required to conjure and sustain it. And for every exit, there must also be a corresponding group. Jularra smiled. She wished Vylas was there to see the energy passes come to life, since he had trained them to create them. Jularra wished her mother could see it as well.

  Fatigue accumulated quickly upon those who conjured an energy pass, and time was of the essence. Use of energy passes was rarely heard of; the casting would often render the involved Ridgerazers completely exhausted for weeks, and the magic required would usually be better spent on more practical matters like assisting doctors, helping artisans, or caring for the land. But in the name of war, and in the name of the element of surprise, the passes were effective—and powerful—tools.

  The energy pass reached its fullest extent and spanned the width of the valley’s western end. Within seconds of the pass being completely in place, a separate, smaller group of Ridgerazers ran through. Mere seconds after they entered the pass, the first rank of Spire and regular army archers sprinted into the portal.

  Far north in Torguria, corresponding exit points were conjured by groups of Ridgerazers that had traveled secretly ahead, days before. As the energy pass was completed, Jularra was able to peer through into Torguria, and watch as yet another group of Ridgerazers sprinted out for the edge of the cliff overlooking Brinnock’s outer walls. Before they reached the edge, these additional Ridgerazers called upon their energies in mid-sprint to strike and mold the cliff’s edge into a rapidly-formed set of stairs. Jularra watched the cliff rattle and rumble as it transformed. Blocks of rock cracked and broke, sliding down, across, and over each other. Within one minute of the appearance of the energy pass exit points, the rock face was now an easily navigable staircase down the cliff and over Brinnock’s walls.

  Their first task complete, the Ridgerazers passed back through to their respective counties, clearing the way for the energy pass to begin belching out waves of sprinting combatants.

  ***

  From the queen’s valley in Burrek, and from energy passes in each of her lord’s counties, streams of Acorilan’s warriors spilled out onto the plateau to rush down the cliff steps. Hundreds of them tore through the outlying fields with no sign of awareness from the Torgurians.

  The Spire led the sprint to the outer reaches of Drelio—just outside Brinnock’s walls—soon joined by Robain’s cavalry. Before they rode past and into the village, the archers stopped and nocked arrows. The nearest commander rushed his order so as not to threaten their advancing cavalry.

  “Loose! Loose!”

  The last arrow of the volley landed seconds before the cavalry galloped in to engage the unorderly band of militia waiting just inside the village.

  As Jularra and Korden approached Drelio, the horns of Brinnock erupted from the walls and across the village. This was the first alarm Jularra’s forces had heard. The Acorilinians peeked between buildings, or over distant village roofs as the main portcullis ratcheted down. The massive oak doors slammed behind it.

  “Ready!” a Spire captain shouted.

  The swift lines of Spire unsheathed their short swords and bellowed at the top of their lungs as they flowed through the town, immediately funneling down side streets and into smaller alleys and corridors. The cavalry was already separated, but began to drive any resistance towards the Spire. The heavily armored warriors on horseback made quick work of any who were unlucky enough to find themselves fighting on their own.

  The Spire filled in the remainder of the village’s paths and chased down any confused or otherwise ineffective militia. Within a few minutes, any sign of resistance in the village had been eliminated. The archers advanced as the moderately-armored ground forces made their way through the fields. Those already in Drelio watched the most heavily armored of the
Acorilinian forces emerge from the energy pass. The clear sky set the sun upon their armor and reflected ominous knives of light throughout the area.

  The village was their first rally point, and had been easily subdued. The quick-moving lead groups of archers and the slower, lightly armored infantry moved through the town looking for any lingering resistance, but found none. They were not concerned for the moment with any residents in their homes, and the village was already far too overrun by Jularra’s forces for any remaining militia to pose a threat.

  Those who led the initial raid on the village sat on stone walls or pulled up a spot on the road as they waited for the rest of their forces to cross the fields. The energy passes closed, and the groups still in the village whooped and shouted in anticipation of the full-on siege of Brinnock.

  The Spire, archers, and other advance fighters formed ranks. Once the Bedrock and other heavy units reached the village, the combined army of Acorilan would move on to the city.

  ***

  Jularra’s allied lords arrived shortly behind her, frowning up at the flurry of activity atop the barbican and walls.

  “All right," she said to them. "We need to get everyone organized and prepared to march on the front gatehouse. Have the remaining ‘Razers report to me immediately.”

  A group of Spire, Bedrock and attendants scurried off to retrieve the Ridgerazers.

  Jularra and her surrounding officers, including Korden, watched as the messengers disappeared into the throngs of approaching allies.

  “Keep an eye out," Jularra said. "Interrupt me only if danger is imminent.”

  Korden and the surrounding Spire nodded as they formed a defensive circle around the queen, facing outwards. Many took off their helmets to enjoy the luxury of unrestricted breathing.