by Dima Zales
“This woman’s real name is Koraline Kolarevic,” Visola explained to the Japanese queen. “She was a dance instructor that King Kyrosed developed a liking for in Moscow about a century ago. She is Corallyn’s mother.”
Queen Amabie had been slowly circling Koraline, her regal crimson robes skimming the floor as she walked. With a hand on the hilt of her katana, she frowned in consternation as she examined the face of her enemy. “What a pity your attack on Adlivun should fail so miserably, girl,” she said magnanimously. “You should have known better. No one has ever beaten the magnificent warrior standing before you. This is General Visola Ramaris; she has the blood of the Vikings within her.”
“Aw. You sweet-talker!” Visola affectionately smiled at her friend as a rosy blush began to tinge her cheeks. “I can’t believe you remember my Viking Uncle Sigarr. Really, Queen Amabie, if you had not shown up when you had, the outcome would not nearly have been as certain.”
“Nonsense, my friend. You had it all under control—you will have to tell me how on earth you procured those mighty weapons.”
“You’ll never believe it.” Visola grinned, thinking of how best to tell the story, when the door to the dungeon opened.
Aazuria entered, dressed in full formal attire. She wore her silvery hair woven with pearls as was the custom, and a rich malachite-green dress which hung off of one shoulder. (Her other, bare shoulder, had been freshly dressed with bandages once more.) The airy fabric gathered at her waist with a wide jeweled band before continuing all the way to her toes. The waistband was embroidered with gemstones in the shape of Adlivun’s triple-moon symbol. The style of the garment was Grecian and stately.
Aazuria made the traditional salute across her chest before she curtsied deeply, touching the fingertips of her left hand to the floor. “Queen Amabie, I am forever indebted to you for providing reinforcements in our time of need. Please forgive me for having to leave the battle. Atargatis had placed some friends of mine in danger, and I needed to try to save them.”
The Japanese queen walked forward, her arms extended in greeting. “Queen Aazuria, why do you curtsy to me? We are equals, my good friend.”
“I am still but a princess. I have not yet had my coronation.”
“Formalities, my dear, formalities. In the fifties when I was in trouble, your father the ‘king’ did not come to my rescue—you did. You brought an entire army to save me without his authorization! You have always been the Queen of Adlivun in my eyes. You have always been the one willing to make the tough calls that no one else could handle.”
Aazuria placed her arms in Amabie’s outstretched ones. When she looked into the older woman’s wise dark eyes, she was reminded of Elandria, and she faltered. Every judgment she had ever made had been done so with her sister’s guidance. Elandria saw things from a different perspective than the average person, and she had always been Aazuria’s voice of reason. Make the decisions which are the safest, the boldest, and the most unpredictable. Her constant vigilance, her quiet virtue, and her levelheaded reflection could never be replaced.
She tried to feel the strength of having her arms linked with her fellow queen to celebrate their triumphant alliance. “I thank you for your confidence in me, Queen Amabie.”
The Ningyo leader stared at her curiously. “And why are you not confident in yourself? Aazuria, dear friend; each victory is bittersweet. We sea-dwellers are an archaic bunch who resist change and cling fast to tradition. You listened to your people; you embraced the need for new technology and innovation! I should be imitating your example.”
Aazuria gave Amabie a weak smile, allowing her hands to fall limply to her sides. She felt the first small ripple of relief run through her. “I suppose… it all turned out for the best.”
“Oh, Aazuria. Do you not know what you have done? By ridding the seas of Kyrosed Vellamo, you have saved your nation. Your bravery and doggedness in doing what needed to be done is unparalleled. You will be honored for countless years to come—long after your body is entombed in ice, sea-dwellers will speak of the brave woman who killed her own beloved father so that they might be free.”
In gratitude, Aazuria bowed her head respectfully. Her eyes were stung by tears as they fell upon the three ivory spirals emblazoned on Amabie’s scarlet breastplate. It was the Japanese version of the Celtic triskelion; the symbol which represented man’s natural balance with earth, air, and sea. It was only in moments like this one that Aazuria could grasp the meaning of such symbols. She was filled with sudden insight into why their ancestors had chosen these ambiguous kamon and emblems.
“Okie-doke. I hate to interrupt my two favorite ladies, but I need to know.” Visola cleared her throat and leaned on a rifle impatiently. “Princess Aazuria, did you manage to save my grandson?”
“Yes,” Aazuria answered, sending her friend a genuine smile. She exhaled in one airy gush. “Trevain is alive.”
“Thank Sedna below,” Visola said softly. She cleared her throat. “Well, I have some news for you too. Corallyn has been recovered. While we fought, Alcyone managed to get Elandria to the infirmary. Her wound is serious, but she may pull through.”
Tears immediately flooded Aazuria’s eyes. She was embarrassed to be so emotional before the imperial Amabie, and she immediately tried to regain composure and stop the droplets from spilling over. Everything that had been taken from her all at once seemed to be falling right back into her lap. She felt a second, more substantial rush of relief.
“It is over,” Aazuria said, just to hear it spoken aloud. She lifted her hand to brush her tears from her white eyelashes. “We won.”
“We shall always win against the dishonorable Clan of Zalcan,” Queen Amabie assured her. She turned and looked to where Koraline was bound on the floor. “What kind of general wages war but never sets foot on the battlefield? Forgive my slandering, but this omnipotent Zalcan fellow must be the puny runt of his litter.”
Koraline began to struggle again, attempting to scream out insults against her muzzle.
At that moment, Sionna entered the room. She saluted the other women, and curtsied deeply to Queen Amabie. “I took care of the land-dwelling female, Princess Aazuria. I am happy to report that Trevain’s injuries are superficial and that he should be awake shortly. I have to return to the infirmary at once to tend to our wounded, but I have been sent to petition you for mercy. Young Corallyn Vellamo is requesting that she be allowed to look upon the face of her mother before the execution.”
Aazuria considered this for a moment. “General Ramaris, please unbind Koraline’s mouth.”
Visola moved to do this, and the prisoner spat at her. “My name is Atargatis!”
“Honey, you only get to choose your nickname if you win the war,” Visola informed her.
“Red hair. Green eyes. Big guns. Visola Ramaris,” Atargatis mused from the ground. She smiled. “So you are the world famous whore.”
Visola’s eyes narrowed and Queen Amabie had her katana pressing against the woman’s throat in an instant. “You should apologize to my friend if you know what is good for you.”
Atargatis completely ignored the pressure against her throat, and even the wet feeling of blood trickling down her neck from her broken skin. “You know, Visola, you and I are exactly alike. I know that you have a daughter too, also fathered by Kyrosed Vellamo…”
“What in Sedna’s name are you talking about?” Visola frowned deeply. “Look, bitch. My daughter was not fathered by Kyrosed. The mere concept of sleeping with that man makes me want to vomit. Do I seem like a spineless doormat to you? I would have castrated the creep if he ever touched me, and he knew it.”
“I have a reputable source,” Atargatis said. “I intimately know the man whom you betrayed.”
“Betrayed!” Visola spat. “I have never…” Her sentence trailed off with a small hitch in her breathing. She had only been married once. She had been completely faithful to her husband. Visola had never understood why he had abandoned her sho
rtly after she had become pregnant, but if he somehow believed that she had slept with Kyrosed Vellamo…
“Do you know my brother-in-law?” Sionna asked Koraline, turning to glance at Aazuria nervously. The women shared a glance of foreboding, for both harbored a healthy hate for the love of Visola’s life. The man left destruction and suffering in his wake wherever he went; Adlivun had been no different.
When Koraline responded with only hysterical laughter, Aazuria frowned and turned to Sionna. “My instincts tell me that I should not permit Corallyn to meet this woman. Do you agree, Doctor Ramaris?”
“Yes,” Sionna said immediately. “Let’s protect her from any harmful memories. I’ll go tell her.”
“No!” Koraline shrieked. “You will let me see my daughter, you imbecile! You are all fools!” The blonde warrior struggled to sit up in her chains. “You really think this is over? I would not celebrate so soon!”
“And why should we not?” Queen Amabie asked.
“Because I was supposed to fail.” Koraline began to cackle madly as she pressed her shackled wrists against her wound. “I didn’t know, but I can see it now. They sent me ahead to test your defenses. Emperor Zalcan himself orchestrated this attack on Adlivun. He likes to send several waves with increasing numbers of soldiers to weaken a country before unleashing his final, conquering blow.”
“He has done this before?” Aazuria asked softly.
“Like the ocean. The power of the ocean is not in one lone current, but in many massive waves. That is the way our leader fights.” Koraline smiled through her pain. “You don’t stand a chance. Zalcan will send his forces until you are ultimately beaten down. He has leaders far more experienced than I am; prominent warriors with vendettas against this atrocious northern kingdom. Guess who the next wave is led by, Visola Ramaris? The Clan’s most venerated son… you may know him as the Destroyer of Kingdoms.”
“Vachlan,” Visola said miserably. If all of the women she respected most in the world had not been in the same room with her, she might have sunk down to her knees. Instead, she just stared ahead blankly. Sionna moved to her sister’s side and squeezed her twin’s hand. Visola did not respond, for she was already mentally preparing for battle with the mighty Vachlan Suchos.
Everyone was startled by a noise when Corallyn burst into the room, awkwardly holding a gun. “Is that her?” she asked, her face streaked with tears. “Is that the woman who shot Elandria? I want to perform her execution.”
“No, little one,” Queen Amabie said in a soothing voice. “That is not your job. Queen Aazuria will do it tomorrow before all the assembled citizens of Adlivun and my Ningyo people.”
“She is my mother and I deserve the right to kill her!” Corallyn said, before lifting the gun shakily and pointing it at Atargatis.
Aazuria grabbed her youngest sister, physically restraining Corallyn and lowering the firearm. “Coral, no. Shhhh. You should not have to experience what it feels like to kill your parent. I will do it.”
“Parent? She is a stranger to me, she is nothing! Elandria was my sister and my friend! Elandria was the kindest, most gentle woman who ever lived, and now she might die because of her!”
“It’s not my fault,” Koraline whimpered. “Sweet girl, he stole you away from me. I have been fighting for years to get you back. Please, have pity! I am but a lowly pawn.”
“Why was it so difficult?” Corallyn cried. “I’ve been here all along, and nothing was stopping you from just coming here and meeting me! I know my father was a horrible man, but you are worse! You are worse, because you shot Elandria!”
“Dear girl, I am but a lowly pawn,” Koraline said, begging for understanding. “None of this was my doing.”
Aazuria felt pity spread in her chest, and briefly considered letting the woman live. It was true that Kyrosed had used many women, and many people as pawns.
“This attack,” Koraline said, gasping at the pain in her abdomen. She pressed on the wound, groaning to elicit sympathy. “It was not my idea. The details were all sketched out by Vachlan. He wanted information before he led his own forces against Adlivun. Blame Vachlan Suchos!”
“So you know him?” Visola asked in a deathly quiet voice. “You know my husband?”
“Your husband?” Koraline said with a small laugh. “He may have belonged to you once, you red-haired slut. But that was over five lifetimes ago. That was before antibiotics and automobiles. That was before the fucking light bulb. He isn’t yours anymore.”
Visola inhaled, her fingers twitching. When she spoke, she paused between each lingering syllable. “Do you know Vachlan Suchos?” she asked slowly. Electricity seemed to cackle in the air around her voice.
Koraline smirked. “He’s been sleeping with me for the last fifty years; I think I should know him.”
Before half a second had passed, there was a knife buried to the hilt in Koraline’s left eye-socket. The woman stared at Visola with her other eye wide open in terror as she crumpled to the floor. It had happened so quickly that only two of the women in the room had been able to register what had happened.
“Bitch,” Visola muttered as she walked toward Koraline. She put her boot on the woman’s face and yanked the knife out of her eye. Then she looked back to the horrified Corallyn. The young girl had sunk to her knees, and was staring at her mother’s corpse in shock. “Sorry, kid.” Visola shrugged as she wiped the knife clean on her soft Kevlar armor. “I know you had a better reason to kill her, Coral. Oh, well. Guess I win.”
“Goodness, Visola.” Queen Amabie shook her head, astonished that after centuries, Visola’s temper was still so volatile at the slightest mention of her husband. “This is not the appropriate manner of doing things.”
“She surely had more information about the Clan of Zalcan!” Aazuria said in dismay. “She was so chatty—we could have kept her talking.”
Visola lifted her wrists out to Queen Amabie and Aazuria. “Well, here I am. I humbly submit to either of your sentences. Lay it on me. Prison, torture? Want me to scrub the floors with a toothbrush? I’m game.”
Aazuria turned to look at the regal Queen Amabie, hoping that the older woman would be more strict and authoritative than she. For although Aazuria knew that Visola’s disobedience needed to be punished, she could not find it within her to declare a price. She knew that she owed her life and her kingdom to Visola—she owed the woman everything, several times over.
Queen Amabie sighed. If it had been anyone else, she would have immediately issued the sternest of reprimand. If it had been one of her own people they would have been harshly penalized for such rash behavior. However, the Ningyo leader had a great fondness for Visola’s skill as a warrior and her affable charm, and all she could manage was a pitying smile.
“Oh, good grief!” Sionna exclaimed as she watched the fearsome women become soft as teddy bears when faced with her sister. Yet again, Visola had proven her worth. She was above the law. She was more powerful than a queen. She could melt stone with her charm. “Viso—for Sedna’s sake. We were supposed to have a formal execution to raise the morale of our people. You just made things a lot more difficult for Aazuria.”
“So then you punish me, Sio,” Visola challenged. “What are you gonna do about it?”
Sionna sighed, turning to glance at poor Corallyn. There was a lot that she could do—she had no doubt about that. But she was even more biased than the other two women in favor of her twin. Visola could do no wrong in her eyes, even when she had obviously done very much wrong. “I would never hurt you, Visola. Just know that I am disappointed in your behavior; I believe that our father would be disappointed in you as well. We are always expected to act in the best interest of our country.”
“Excuse me, but what part of me winning a war today did you not notice?” Visola shot back.
“Love, you won a battle. As we just learned, the war is yet to come.”
“Never any pleasing you, sis.” Visola turned her back and briskly exited the room.
40
The vaulted cathedral ceiling was decorated with intricate patterns carved into ice. Soft lighting illuminated the white substance until it sparkled like stardust. All of this was viewed through a foggy filter, almost like looking through thick glass.
Trevain blinked to clear his distorted vision until the fuzzy images sharpened. Strangely, the ceiling remained as resplendent as it had been through the haze. Scenes danced across his mind and he could not tell if they were from dreams or memories. He remembered an explosion. He remembered drowning. He knew that he had died, but he did not know how long ago it had happened.
When he lifted his head from what felt like a soft downy pillow, he looked at his body and saw that the angel was with him. She was lying against him, resting—her white hair was draped out across his arms and chest. He wanted to touch her translucent ivory cheek, but he did not dare, fearing she would disappear if he did. White eyelashes fluttered gently open, barely revealing pure sapphire irises with a dark limbal ring around them.
“I prayed that I would see you again,” he whispered. “I have never prayed for anything in my life, but I prayed for you to any god that would listen.”
She smiled up at him sleepily though half-lidded eyes. “Good morning to you too.”
He fully raised his head and looked around at the room. Everything was made of ice, even the furniture. There were ornately carved ice torches which lit the area.
“Is this heaven?” he asked breathlessly. “Or maybe Atlantis?”
“Atlantis!” she mumbled, taking offense. “That place was a dump.”
Trevain was surprised when she pulled herself upright and he felt a heavy weight leave his chest. It occurred to him for the first time that all of this could be real and earthly, including the woman. It occurred to him that she could be made of flesh and blood. She was stretching and yawning now, with her eyes still closed. She was lifting a hand to rub her bandaged shoulder.