by Jeramy Goble
Leona started to walk around the pool, growing more agitated as she spoke.
“Yes. I want the throne. I want to expunge your cowardly, feckless line from this country. Arrogant brats who haven’t tried to grow or nurture their country’s magical history in generations. I want to return Acorilan to a proud and prosperous nation that is once again a powerful bastion of magic. Users of magic have been timid for far too long in Acorilan. The Gifts deserve better. The mountains that fuel our history and magic deserve better.”
“Do you seriously expect me to believe that your intentions are so noble?” Jularra snapped back. Again, she felt her bonds relax as she continued to antagonize her captor.
“This has egotism written all over it, Leona," she continued. “You could have just petitioned for a change in policies. Solicited others to support your views. Requested an audience with me!”
“And risk another queen dying before anything changed, and having to start over?” Leona asked. “No… no. The next queen that dies—you—will simply just… die. And Acorilan will not suffer for it. No more pacts. No more citizens beholden to an enslaved line of queens. Enough.”
“Sure,” Jularra conceded. “And instead of a judicious queen, they’ll get a delusional amateur of all trades. You're right; that sounds like a wonderful exchange.”
Leona’s circling rings of smoke roared to fiery life as she prepared to lash out. The pressure of Jularra's constraints bottomed out.
Jularra seized the opportunity to focus and bear down on a pulse of sound that exploded concussively, rupturing her prison sphere and sending a disorientated Leona stumbling.
Jularra tumbled the few feet to the ground and rolled into a sitting position. She immediately pulled her arms back and then punched out to hurl a punitive blast at Vylas, dislodging his hold over the queens.
“Jularra!” Queen Lilvili yelled.
Jularra stumbled as she climbed to her feet, but found her footing and rushed toward Lilvili. Leona, quickly recovered from Jularra's counterstrike, whipped her energy into a frenzy in preparation for a new attack.
Jularra fled across the chamber in a panic, passing by the shadow of the impotent Voidwarden. Jularra ran now from a new enemy, and with a final lunge, found Lilvili’s hand. Lilvili grabbed her and jerked her closer. With her other hand, Jularra took hold of Hymtera.
The five queens of Acorilan formed a closed circle of shared power. As their energies merged and magic pulsed through them, the ring of women began to glow.
We’re forming a ring of protection, came Briwinna's voice.
As quickly as the message passed through Jularra’s thoughts, both Leona and Vylas hurled storms of stone and fire at the connected queens. The debris of fire, flame, rock, and mud struck the increasingly radiant ring of energy surrounding the queens of Acorilan. But while the women were protected, they would have to change tactics to neutralize the threat.
Jularra communicated a thought back to her ancestors.
What now? How do we fight back?
Oprendia locked eyes with her from across the circle.
We are your coven, and you are our queen. Guide us on your will and we will see it done.
Jularra couldn’t fathom an appropriate response to Oprendia’s suggestion, but looking around at the other women—my coven—brought her calmness and clarity. She focused, and conveyed her intentions silently to the rest of the queens.
Leona and Vylas continued to hurl wave after wave of raw, elemental magic at the coven, but the strength of the women's united defense had grown far too powerful for either Leona or Vylas to overcome. Jularra’s new foes began to tire. The stream of vibrant power connecting the coven grew even brighter.
Something started to take shape at the coven’s center.
Their power grew brighter still. A separate stream of light appeared within the coven’s energy and started to spin within the larger stream of power.
Faster and faster, the energy compounded. Vylas’ and Leona’s assaults slowed down as their futility became more apparent. Just before they gave up completely, the Acorilinian Gracewarden spawned at the center of the coven.
The linked Acorilinian queens grew in shared strength to the point that they no longer needed to be physically touching. Their energies spilled out from each of them, keeping them connected. The other queens dropped their arms.
Jularra let her arms fall as well, turning to face Leona from within the circle. The old witch looked haggard and wobbly. Vylas, just as exhausted, knelt unsteadily beside her.
“You claim a regard for magic, yet would use it to serve yourself.” Jularra addressed the spent couple with resounding authority. Her voice rose until it boomed around the scarred walls of the rubble-strewn chamber. “That’s what started all of this!”
Rings of concentrated power smoldered into existence. They grew larger and wilder, but where Jularra nudged them, they responded. Previously kissed with smoke and fire, they now resembled clouds of white and blue. Liquid-like streams of incandescence with a crystalline finish coursed through them. “Gracewarden. I trust you will… rehabilitate... our Voidwarden?” Jularra said.
The golden Gracewarden turned and nodded its helmet-clad head at its queen.
“And these two,” Jularra continued, referring to Vylas and Leona. “Please see that they can never endanger this world again.”
The Gracewarden marched towards the couple and drew its sword. As it stomped over, it took off its helmet and tossed it to the ground, eliminating its ancient anonymity.
A smile crept onto Detsepera’s face.
Epilogue
I was told at one point that Korden’s funeral procession stretched the entire length of road from Morganon to Honor’s Crest. I’m not surprised at all.
I didn’t want to be anywhere but there, outside the entrance, waiting for Korden to be laid amongst the honored fallen. Amongst those worthy of remembrance.
Surrounding me were the people to whom I will forever owe my crown, Acorilan’s survival, and my life.
Annutsik stayed for days after his armies helped dispatch Latham’s and Torguria's armies. Most of Latham’s people were captured, and I suspect they will return to being constructive citizens—after I take a few actions to ensure that happens. Nothing too drastic.
Though Annutsik can be somewhat abrasive, he’s a good man, and I’m glad I had an occasion to explore a relationship with Yubik, regardless of the circumstances. It should prove stimulating, at the very least. I told Annutsik yesterday that I had absolutely no idea that he was coming to help. His response was that he hadn’t intended to help with any sort of fight, and that he was only chasing the Torgurians out of the lands I had recently granted him. After an impressive pause, he winked at me.
Melcayro and Abranni are admirable siblings, and admirable people. They are tireless in their efforts to gain freedom, and their loyalty knows no limits. They are wise beyond their years and their skills in the Gifts are nothing short of inspiring. I truly look forward to building on our relationship, though my commitment to help them with Hignriten is already wearing on me slightly. But I won’t abandon that promise.
Wona and Vischuno. I’m humbled by just thinking of them. Sister and brother of a different kind, their integrity and character are qualities I will forever attempt to reproduce in myself. They are shining examples of Acorilan’s best, and especially as examples of the Bedrock and Spire. I’m even considering naming them both as my two, equal Chief Advisors. But it’s still a bit too soon for that.
At various points during Korden’s procession, I kept wanting to turn to him, to confide in him, which I still feel a little silly about. But it’s been a habit ever since I first emerged from the mountain as queen, and I expect that it will be a habit for a long time. Frankly, I hope it’s always a habit.
One habit that I hope to be rid of sooner rather than later is the frequent consideration of what Vylas might advise. What he might say. What he may think. The idea that the words he spoke
to me my entire life were nothing but a manipulative facade is one of the most revolting states of mind I can contemplate. I don’t want that in my heart. To think of him nurturing my skills, playing with my mind, encouraging me to do this, suggesting I do that—and then making me lose my child? To serve himself in serving Leona? Disgusting. My heart skips and my stomach stabs cold when I think of it. What a worthless waste.
The final, and extremely welcomed, guest at my side was the Acorilinian Gracewarden. I spent hours and hours taking advantage of being able to converse with it. Her. Detsepera. It was a surreal experience, to speak with someone whom I knew only from the lifeless portrait in the state tower, and through the uninformed curses directed at her under my breath over the years.
My coven had released her—or, more appropriately, summoned her—to help deal with Leona and Vylas, and only then was she able to assert some autonomy outside Honor’s Crest. She did tell me, though, that at some point she would have to return inside her beautiful tomb for the honored dead, and would be unable to speak or interact with me again. I’m glad I was able to speak with her before she returned.
I discovered a great deal from Detsepera, and was able to confirm some things that I had recently suspected. One particular bit of information I found fascinating was that when Detsepera died, she was approached by an entity not associated with the Gift Gods, and invited to take the place of Acorilan’s Gracewarden at the time—in honor of her great sacrifice in saving Acorilan. To this day, I almost cannot fathom the realization that in killing Detsepera, and binding her to the pact as its first queen, our Voidwarden had ensured its eventual doom from the start.
Acknowledgements
There are very few things I’ve done in the past seven years that haven’t been made possible by my wife Julia, in some way. Her heart, inspiration, encouragement, and patience have been an unending, and rich source of fuel with which I’ve used to write. For anyone who might find any of my words enjoyable, know that she is a huge part of that.
Thank you to my parents for relentlessly believing in me, in my writing endeavors, and everything else. Their love and support go beyond what parents are expected to do by virtue of just being parents.
I owe a great deal of thanks, also, to every book blogger, pod caster, and general speculative fiction enthusiast that has given me or my work even one minute of their time. Time is our most valuable asset, and I can’t say how appreciative I am that you have spent any amount of time with me, or with my writing.
And for all of the inspiration and encouragement that my wife and parents have provided, it would have meant little to anyone if not for the insightful and passionate wisdom of my editor, Laura M. Hughes. Thanks, Laura, for making an omelette out of my scrambled words.