“I like your arse.”
She playfully elbowed his stomach. “Leave my bottom alone, lycan.”
He chuckled and kissed the back of her head. “Do you want to talk about what goes on in your head?”
She shook her head. “I shouldn’t.”
“But you will?”
“Don’t you have a better thing to do than bother me with meaningless questions?”
He shook his head. “I doubt I have something else to do.”
“Maybe sleep?”
“Maybe.”
She sighed. “Sleep then and stop bothering me.”
“Goodnight, Sia.”
He pressed closer and nuzzled against the brown mane of her hair. It was something strange for her, this close proximity, strange and new, but somehow it didn’t hurt her overestimated pride.
She didn’t answer him, instead, sleep took her too quickly and too easily. Everything became blank and she wasn’t there anymore. It was strange and wonderful because she didn’t dream of one bloody thing for the rest of the night. Maybe she should make a habit of it. Maybe.
21
They rode against the wind in a savage speed.
Bandaged around her head to keep the cold away was a grey shawl, but half of it now hung low around her neck. The opposite, chilly breeze slapped against her white skin, her cheeks reddened and her nose and lips felt so cold. Cassia knew they would break if she touched them. Her keen, green eyes scanned the land, but it was covered with snow, thick, icy snow.
Her hands, even though she wore her leather gloves, they were cold. A diligent tapping of shoves against snow was the only indication Ael was behind her. The snowstorm was a force of nature and she could do little to keep it down no matter how strong she was with elven magic. The horses winced, but they didn’t stop. It was their deep, exhausted breaths that filled her eardrums.
She chanted over the winds a few spells to ease the pain in the beasts’ hooves. Her words were elegant in the Elder Tongue of Nature and coated in golden lights with blessings from the Mother.
They were close to the Adanei camp. The smell of iron encased that part of the land and the forest seemed to calm down, ease its pain and speak with more frivolity spreading throughout the trunks of old trees.
She pulled the shawl tighter with her free hand around her neck and managed a look at Ael. He seemed rather calm riding the horse in this bad weather and she wondered if it was due to his lycanthropy. She had acquired strength and power through blood magic and hideous acts, maybe his mutation had given him gifts of strength further than a mere elf could possess.
She tugged the reins of her horse and the beast slowed down. She threw a glance at Ael.
“Alright.” He said as he moved ahead, leaving her to trail behind him as he guided them through the transparent Wall, magical and sentient allowing passage only to those with purpose.
Ael disappeared as he passed through the thin fabric of magic. She halted, her senses going on override as she assessed everything she knew about the Wall through stories and legends and the magic she had read.
It could consume you and swallow you whole, send you to another realm out of the Mighty Seven. It could send you to the Otherworld, to the realm of the Dead and seal you there in a wisp of golden magic, never to be allowed back.
She gritted her teeth, loudly reminding herself who she was and of her purpose. She took a few steps forward, her knees never giving out, and her breath never leaving her.
I was Cassia, the King’s sole Heir, the one that would sacrifice my life to see the King humiliated and dead at my feet.
I was the King’s sole Heir...
She stepped through the immortal barrier of magic, through the many wards and enchantments placed there by the ancient Norms and Warlocks of the Ebony Willow.
Liar...
It was a soft voice, a voice belonging to no man or woman, it was something in between. It was the voice of the sapient, magical fabric.
It was like warm water washing through her, rinsing her sins and dressing her in silver light.
A long silence conquered the in between place she found herself in as if the Wall debated whether her purpose was worthy enough to let her through or not. The hair on her arms stood on edge, waiting, waiting, and waiting.
Tall mountains partially covered with snow at the tops and a green valley flashed before her. A warm, heating terror coursed through her.
These lands were pure and good, nothing like the dark, coal lands Nevdori possessed. She knew even though the King was careful and diligent with his powers, his army was not. She knew the generals, commanders and Lords one by one; she knew their lust for blood and fire. They would slaughter and destroy the boundless beauty of that place.
There in the valley was the war camp of Lord Argoth’s soldiers. Tall, white tents and Ivory banners with the Adanei purple flower embroidered on them. Soldiers laughing as they trained and the stern remarks of their commanders travelled towards where Ael and Cassia stood.
It was strange; the Adanei soldiers made war seem a game of shadows and golden laughter. She would have screamed and barked at them if they were under her command. She had to remind herself that these Elves didn’t treat their soldiers with whipping and lashing as the King did. They were free to pursue their interests, so unlike the Dark Elves.
The Sun shone brighter on this side of the Wall and it made Cassia want to close her eyes and wince at the thought; that maybe one day if she failed, the world would be such a dangerous place.
Ael had dismounted his horse, but still, she could not take her eyes from the valley before her and glance at him. He moved closer to her and placed a hand on her shoulder.
Her eyes rose to his and She inhaled deeply. She knew she had gone there with only purpose to achieve peace. She was handing herself to her enemy and she found herself careless of what the results would be.
She pursued her lips. “Lead the way.”
He nodded in response and guided her and the horses through the crowd of elves. Uneasiness settled in the pit of her stomach, knowing so many pairs of eyes glanced towards her in suspicion. She wore her marble mask over her face, eyes stern and dark, soulless and spineless, a fine snake bred from a fine bloodline.
The whispering of the elves turned her blood cold and rendered her mind empty from feeling. She was to be feared, she had killed so many Adanei in her years in the War, even before it. A child bred in times of toil. She moved forward, without turning to glance around her to the faceless elves chatting silently, throwing her glances that cut through her like fine iron.
Ael stopped in front of a tent in the middle of the camp; a tall, ivory canvas with an emblem she hadn’t seen in a long time. The white feathered Phoenix. The coat of arms for the First and Last Adanei King, an elf so fierce whose bloodline began at the dawn of time, whose blood held the contents of Danesir. The Magic of the primal God, Father of All.
Ael shifted, his back turned rigid as he spoke to the guards at the entrance of the tent. “I have to talk with the Lord, I have the Heir with me.”
The elf winced, terror crossing through his eyes. He, hesitantly, nodded and disappeared into the tent. He came back after a few minutes, hands braced against his daggers. Cassia knew she was risking too much and too many lives by going there, but she had run out of options and allies. The guard ushered them in. Ael moved in first. She had to trust Ael in this, she had to, or else she had to follow the King’s plan.
The tent inside was simple, nothing extravagant and greedy as the King always preferred, nothing that reminded of gold and silver and sparkling stones of starlight. A red carpet spread over the tent’s floor, a bed at the back of the tent concealed behind heavy, red draperies. The desk on the right side, wooden and dark remained there nonchalant, untouched. Argoth sat on the wooden throne to the left side of the room, the intimidating violet eyes of the elven Lord rose to meet hers.
Ael bowed, but Cassia didn’t. “My Lord, I have brought you her Hig
hness to you.”
Argoth stood from his throne, his elegant robes flaring around him and approached them. His brown hair and the faintly violet eyes made her shiver from the strange reminder that she had seen him and fought against him more than once in the past. He was still as young as she remembered him, a stern smile and a never faltering facade.
“Lady Cassia,” Argoth stepped before her and bowed his head, placing a hand over his heart. A sign of peace. “You are famous among the rebels. I believe it is time to shed our past behind and plot together for the future.”
She tilted her head and let her lips form a devilish smile. She could play with her own rules. She kept her chin high and walked away, sitting on Argoth throne. She crossed her legs and chuckled. Ael’s eyes pleading her to behave. “I have come with a most generous offer.”
“Ah! Always acerbic, I see.” Argoth sighed and shook his head. “Thank you, Ael for bringing her here. You are dismissed.”
Ael left without turning to glance at her a second time, or saying his goodbye to her. It irate her, but she couldn’t show any sign of favouritism to the lycan, not in front of Lord Argoth at least.
“What may that proposition be?” Argoth raised an eyebrow and sighed.
“I will give you my City and the lands that I rule.”
Argoth shook his head as he burst into laughter. “You are joking.” He laughed and glanced away from her. “You can’t expect me to believe that.”
“No, but I need something in return.” She rose from the throne and approached him like a feral cat. “We have a mutual enemy, Argoth. I want the King gone from the throne.”
“Why? You fought so nobly by his side in the War. You preferred to take over his armies and hit us with the most peculiar of war strategies I had ever seen in my military career.” He pursed his lips. “You are his heir. Why would you want him out of the throne? You are his executioner.”
“Things are not as they seem I am afraid.” She exhaled sharply. “In order to survive, I had done some pretty nasty things. But I can no longer obey his beck and call. He has gone out of mind, and he assaults the Treaty every bloody day, don’t think for a moment I consent to this.”
Argoth seemed to consider her words because he nodded and remained silent for a moment. “What do you propose then, General?”
She raised an eyebrow and straightened her spine. “In three days you will have complete control of my lands, I want to have an assurance my people would stay out of this charade.” He nodded as she continued. “I want you to declare to the King openly that you have taken her hostage.” He nodded again. “I want to speak with all your Leaders and prepare them for the war that will follow.” She gritted her teeth and exhaled. “As a General to a General Argoth, I am here to help you and I know that I should despise you because I had been tortured and hurt by your kind, but I can’t help and promise you that this is not a fraud. I swear to Nature and everything I hold dear that I am true to her word.”
“A General to a General.” He nodded. “Alright.”
“I want to guide your armies against that mad King. I feel that it is my duty. I will give you insight and prepare you for what you are to expect from him. He is worthless without me.” She shook her head. “His Generals’ intelligence is at the same level as a rock’s. I am giving you this opportunity to finish this discord the King has placed on our kind.”
“You would have to talk with the rest of the Leaders, I am afraid. I agree with you, completely, you had ever been a worthy opponent.”
“I will speak with them then.”
Argoth sighed. “Feremony, the council is held in Feremony tomorrow.”
She cringed at the mention of that place, but she nodded nevertheless. Feremony was a dark place for her. She didn’t want to go, but she had no room to crawl away, no moment to spare. She had to move fast.
“I want the lycan to accompany me.” She swallowed hard, she trusted Ael, but she didn’t want to give away any weakness.
“I will be there too and Ael. Now, I will show you to your tent. Ael must have already given the order.”
She nodded as she followed Argoth out of his tent and into the camp. The elves had returned to their works and they paid little attention to what she did. Argoth showed her to a tent, bid her good evening and left.
Cassia had to bring her armour and her weapons. She knew that it was the first priority for her, but her eyes were closing. She was exhausted, but she had to try restlessly until she was certain everything would go according to plan.
She would flash in the City in the morning and she’d grab her armour and her war clothes.
At the morning, though, not at that moment. She shook her head and before she knew it she was already asleep upon the covers of the bed.
Feremony
22
Dawn had entered her tent in a whirl of cold, summer air. She had woken up dishevelled from her tormented sleep, disoriented and with little knowledge of what would be the comings of the following day.
It was as unknown to me as the reason she was still breathing instead of being long in the grave. She had moved out of the tent, her hairs thrown back from the violent slapping of the air.
Dawn was a strange blurring blend of light blue, orange and some red going down to the skyline, it was a pyramid of colours starting from the lighter shade and going to the deeper and darker and more obscure colour. She could draw mental lines if she wanted to on the strange canvas. She could draw shapes.
Cassia had been too careless in all her life, thinking she fought for a worthy cause, while in truth she fought for death and toil. She averted her eyes, blinked and took in a fresh breath of air. The morning scent of flowers and that silent breeze that was so soothing, made her trembled from excitement.
It was one of those days she had, so rarely in her life, lived, truly lived and wanted to live more. She could still count those days on the fingers of her one hand. The tranquil, cold grasp on her skin was welcoming, exhilarating and it made her relish the moment in her heart.
There, she stood in the middle of her enemy’s war camp with the sweet breeze of Adanei lands sweeping over her skin. It felt as though she had never lived a day so peaceful, so tacit. In all her long years, Cassia had suffered through pain and torment. But never peace, not even when she had enclosed herself for hundred years inside her castle, inside her city where supposedly she was meant to find happiness.
And she couldn’t believe it. She was on her enemy’s grounds and still, her heart rejoiced at the scenery before her.
The sun peaking at the valley through the fine slit where the mountains joined together. It was still low, but the vastness of colour; made her feel for the first time as much close to her human side as possible.
The innocence that this place emitted through the many shades of flowers and the polychromatic dawn astounded her. It was as if her life was black and white and suddenly colours splashed in her sight and filled her with a warmness she never knew existed. She could stay there for hours and gaze without talking or thinking anything.
She was magnetised and it was enough for her to think there was no other place in the world could force that certain feeling into her hard heart, her heart of marble, her unfeeling bundle of muscles.
It was the feeling of sudden consciousness that dragged her out of her reverie.
She was being watched. She had retrieved back to her tent and flashed back to her castle. She had gathered her armour and clothes as well as her other weapons, bows and arrows, knives and talons and her silver crown.
Silver, not gold. She was declaring openly she no longer was under the King’s influence. Silver had been her colour, had ever been her colour and the King had forced her into wearing the complete opposite; gold, which she despised with most of her heart.
She had worn it proudly because it ensured her presence in court, in an age she needed it most.
She returned to the camp, somehow exhausted. Magic made her feel weary most of the time. Sh
e pulled off her clothes, letting them on the bed behind her as she stepped in the white underclothes she usually wore beneath her armour, and then she pulled the leather chemise over and the leather leggings.
She carefully changed onto her silver armour, the ornate torso full of lines, flowers of Nature, whorls of runes to protect her across her waist inscribed onto the hard metal beginning from her waist and up, over her shoulders and down to the silver chain mail around her waist secured with a belt bearing a dragon’s silver figure with emerald eyes on the buckle.
It wasn’t the most regal armour she had or the newest, but it was the most feared because she had fought and won in the plains of Dagabay twelve years before the War, where she had made a name for herself and her ferocity in the battlefield. Her thirst for blood.
She brushed her hair back and braided them to a messy plait down her back. She placed the silver crown over her head and applied the dark kohl around her eyes. It made her look scarier emphasising on her green cat-shaped eyes. She was terrifying.
She pulled the sword to hang from her belt, stuffed her knives in her white leather boots and up her sleeves.
Feremony was dangerous and foolish was someone when he marched in there without being armed properly. She had gone there once, vulnerable and unarmed and she had been tortured until she could breathe no longer and she could barely keep her eyes open.
She despised Feremony like she was taught to despise the skies of the Gods and their isolated lands. Feremony reeked of death and hate. Even though their new Lord had requested for her presence, she couldn’t bring herself to go there out of curiosity. She wouldn’t have thought of setting foot there if it was not required of her.
She wanted to snarl and scream. Feremony was the place where most of the evil and twisted things had happened to her, and she hated their Lord and his line, and she had cursed them ninety times over and over again, a curse for every day she had spent there. She would have been glad if she had killed that despicable elf. Lord Conor.
A War of Silver and Gold Page 18