by Tristan Vick
A cloud of dust and debris floods into the open square and engulfs us as nearly half of the wall along the east wing of the palace crumbles to the ground. Shaking ensues, as if a small tremblor has broken out, and then, amid the yellow haze, a large silhouette of a giant can be seen. The ground shakes as it moves toward us. Emerging from the dust is the Juggernaut.
Aside from the amount of dust and dirt that has settled on his massive frame, he seems to be undamaged. In daylight I finally can make out the intricate nature of his metal armor. It looks heavily shielded. Not even a fiery cannonball would be capable of penetrating it.
Getting down on one knee, the giant knight bows its head to Lisette.
「I DID GOOD, YES?」 it blares.
“Yes,” Lisette says, reaching out her small hand. She hesitates for a moment then touches the Juggernaut’s giant metal finger.
“Do you think you could ask it to speak a little more quietly?” Leif inquires.
“I’ll try,” Lisette says. Looking back up into the pink glowing eyes set behind the visor of the Juggernaut’s helmet, she smiles. “Good knight? Do you think you might be able to speak in a quieted voice? My friends and I are attempting subterfuge, but your loudness makes it rather challenging.”
「Apologies, fair maiden,」 says the giant in a gentle voice.「I did not realize I was causing you undue stress.」
“It’s quite all right,” Lisette replies cheerfully. She even pats its hand as one would pat a dog’s head. “No harm was done.”
Lisette faces us, grinning. Thumbing over her shoulder she states, “He’s with us.”
“Excellent,” Leif says in a droll voice as he stares up at the giant knight. It doesn’t seem like he’s quite made his mind up about it, but still appears to be glad that the Juggernaut is on our side.
Bethriel turns to the giant, and says, “You there, take Leif and Lisette beyond the outer wall and get them to safety. We will meet up with you later.”
“What do you mean you’ll meet up with us later?” Leif inquires, taking a few steps toward Bethriel.
She turns toward him and says, “I have unfinished business here and I need Arianna’s help.”
“I think it’s better if we all stick together,” Leif replies.
“I’m inclined to agree with Leif on this one,” Lisette adds. “It’s better if we stay together.”
Sensing Bethriel’s eyes on me, I address both Leif and Lisette. “Don’t worry,” I tell them. “I think I know what she has in mind. We’ll be fine. Besides, we’ve become such a large group…” I continue, giving a nod up toward the Juggernaut, “that it’s more difficult to move around without getting noticed.”
“So what are you suggesting?” Leif asks.
“I’ll go with Bethriel. She and I have some unfinished business.”
“Unfinished business?!” Leif asks. “Since when?”
“It’s a long story,” I say. Although I know it won’t relieve his worries, it’s all I am able to tell him.
“I understand,” Lisette says.
“You do?” Leif asks.
Lisette ignores him. She throws her arms around me. “You stay safe, now, you hear?”
Holding her in my arms, I squeeze her back, giving her the firmest hug I’ve ever given anyone in my life. Before she breaks the embrace, she gives me a small peck on the cheek. I ask, “What was that for?”
“For luck,” she answers. She then grabs Leif by the hand and drags him along behind her as she marches toward the main gate.
Looking back at Bethriel and me, Leif says aloud, “What about my goodbye kiss?”
“Keep dreamin’ lover boy,” Lisette retorts.
“Keep it!” I reply.
Just to be kind, Bethriel blows him a kiss anyway and he smiles at her one last time.
“Gentle knight, come this way,” Lisette says, beckoning the Juggernaut. And just like a loyal hound obeying its master’s command, the mammoth machine lurches forward and trails after her.
“Amazing,” Bethriel whispers to herself in astonishment. It is indeed remarkable that Lisette has a war machine tamed and docile as a pet.
When our three friends finally disappear around a corner on their way out the gate, Bethriel grabs my wrist and pulls me behind her. By now a crowd of curious onlookers are beginning to gather around the destruction. Nearby I can see a contingent of Royal Guards rushing to see what all the commotion is about.
Although it feels weird being pulled along like a child, I don’t say anything for fear of offending Bethriel. All she has done is help me and my friends, and I don’t want to come off as rude or condescending. So, I race along with her through the side streets that wind around the palace.
“Where are you taking me?” I ask.
“There’s a back entrance where the farmers bring the produce every morning and afternoon. We’ll sneak in through the kitchen and, once inside, we’ll find Dathrium’s quarters and do what we came here to do.”
“About that,” I inquire, “what is it exactly that you were sent here to do?”
Bethriel stops and looks at me. “I’m to assess if Dragoron has used his dark magic to influence Lord Dathrium in any way. If so, I’m to assassinate them both and leave no trace.”
“And I’m the diversion,” I say.
“I wish it could be another way.” Bethriel looks at me with rueful eyes. “But my orders are quite clear. If you don’t want to help me, now’s your chance to turn around and go.”
I stare at her for the longest time. I’m not comfortable being kept in the dark about our true objectives, but it seems I’m left no alternative. “What choice do I have?” I ask, trying to suppress my irritation of being kept in the dark. “If Dathrium has been corrupted by Dragoron’s black magic, then all of Valandra is at stake.” And, of course, the warrior in me won’t ever let me live it down if I sit by and do nothing. “I’ll help. Just tell me what I need to do and I’ll do it.”
“Good,” Bethriel says. She sounds relieved not to have to go it alone. She signals me with a nod to follow her and moves swiftly down the street. I follow after her. We’re about to dart out into a side-street when suddenly the sound of metal boots clanking causes Bethriel to lurch to a stop.
I don’t have time to stop and my breasts smash into her back. We almost topple to the ground. Fortunately, Bethriel catches herself and pushes us both back.
A patrol of guards march toward us at a brisk pace. Bethriel pushes me up against the wall. With our backs to the wall we hold our breath and wait for all the guards to pass. Admittedly, it is hard to hold my breath after having run so furiously through the streets, but once they pass I exhale and immediately gasp for more air. Bethriel does the same and we look at one another and start laughing.
“That was a close one,” I say, brushing several strands of hair behind my ear.
“Yeah.” Bethriel laughs. She looks at me again with that same look as before.
Bethriel brushes past me, and walks away with a titillating swivel in her hips. She looks over her shoulder at me and bats her eyes. “Are you coming or are you just going to stand their staring at my ass?”
I shake off the lustful sensation that attempts to overwhelm me, raise both eyebrows, and let out a small chortle. “I wasn’t staring,” I protest in a playful tone. She shoots me a look that demands I be honest. “All right, fine. Maybe just a little bit.”
Something about the way Bethriel moves triggers the memory of Alegra and suddenly I feel the pit of my stomach drop. A heavy sense of guilt overtakes me. What began as innocent flirting begins to feel a lot like cheating on the girl I love. But was that cheating? Bethriel was flirting with me. Not the other way around. Alegra will understand, won’t she? She has to.
Refocusing my mind on the task at hand, I trail after Bethriel, who’s gained a good ten feet on me.
After I catch up to her, we head another two hundred meters up the winding streets of Valandra until, finally we find ourselves at the back ent
rance to the palace. It’s near the kitchen and servants’ entrances and there are carts of fresh produce being brought into the palace as we arrive.
Bethriel plucks a ripe tomato out from one of the farmers’ produce carts parked outside and, after examining it as though it were a precious treasure, she sinks her teeth into it.
I watch as tomato juice dribbles down her chin. For whatever reason this causes me to instantly become aroused. So much so that, embarrassed, I must look away. Pull yourself together, I think, reprimanding myself for my sudden moment of weakness.
“This way,” Bethriel says, her mouth full of tomato. She guides me to a small yet ornate entrance with golden floral-patterned trim. I follow her inside, and we walk past some servants who are busy preparing numerous feasts. They who look at us suspiciously but then go back to their business without a peep.
“Do they know you?” I ask.
“Dignitaries, council members, and even the occasional lord of the palace will have courtesans come up after the dinner hours. Even Dragoron likes to have his fun. How else do you think I learned of his sinister plans to overthrow Valandra in the first place? Naturally, he likes to keep a low profile and so all the women must come up through this back entrance.”
She takes one last juicy bite, finishing off the last of the tomato. Her lips are bright red now, and all I want to do is pull her into me and nibble on them, but then I’d be in danger of losing an amazing relationship with Alegra. The fact remains, the more I try to stop thinking about Bethriel, the harder it is to actually do.
“Dammit,” I mutter under my breath, cursing in frustration at my own weak mind. Master Kel taught me to be more disciplined than this. So why can’t I stop thinking about her?
“What?” Bethriel caught my lamentation. But I merely wave my hand as if I’m brushing it aside.
“Oh, it’s nothing. I was just talking to myself.”
“Do you do that a lot?”
“Not really. Why?”
“No reason,” Bethriel says in her cheerful manner. “Come on, let’s get moving.”
We step out of the kitchen area into a large hallway with numerous crates of produce stacked along one side of a long wall. We make our way to the end where we find a spiral staircase leading upward.
“Here,” Bethriel says, fanning her hand as she motions toward the back stairs. “This will take you to Lord Dathrium’s private chambers. Just follow the stairs, go down the hall, and take a left then a right. Go through the large twin doors at the end. You can’t miss them. Wait there till he returns, then attack him. Don’t kill him, just scare him.”
“What about you?” I ask.
“Queen Sabine gave me different instructions.”
“What if something goes wrong?” I ask. I’m now beginning to grow worried about the nature of this mission.
“Don’t worry,” Bethriel consoles, “there’s a backup plan for rescuing you in case you are caught. Just don’t get found out.” She winks and gives me a firm swat on my buttocks, which causes me to tense up.
“Hey…” I say, but before I can protest any further, however, she bounds away and swiftly disappears through a back doorway.
Once again, it appears that I’m on my own. It dawns on me how much I truly miss Leif, Lisette, and most of all Alegra. I can’t help but wonder how she’s fairing this very instant.
Placing one foot up onto the stairs, I take and deep breath and build up the courage to make the climb. “Well…here goes nothing,” I say to myself.
32
I reach the top of the stairs, then follow Bethriel’s directions. Pausing outside Dathrium’s private chambers, I double check whether I’ve been spotted, but my luck holds and there isn’t a soul in sight. I feel that it’s safe to enter, so I slowly open one of the double doors and peek inside. Discovering that the room is empty, I let out a relieved sigh and slip inside.
The air in the Dathrium’s room has the faint scent of pipe tobacco. Dust motes float on beams of light which break through the stained-glass windows that depict epic battles of ancient times. Burgundy drapes give everything a certain ruddiness that takes some getting used to, along with a matching table cloth set upon a full-sized dining table, claret sheets on the bed suited for a king facing east, and a red rug running half the length of the room.
Off to the side there is a crackling fire inside a white marble fireplace, and the wall above it is adorned with the royal coat of arms: a double-headed Phoenix. Two massive swords cross behind the shield, and just below them, perched on the fireplace mantle, is an unexpected yet most welcome sight.
“Impossible,” I mutter to myself. But unless my eyes are playing tricks on me, it’s the blue shimmer of the Moon Blade. Lord Dathrium must have acquired it from Zarine after she stole it from me.
I take my prized possession off the display stand and inspect it carefully to see if anyone damaged it. I double- and triple-check it, and once I’m satisfied it is in pristine condition, I grab the sheath which rests under the blade’s position on the display, and slide the sword back into its rightful place. Then, I replace the clunky, standard issue, imperial blade with my own.
“Who are you?” a voice asks. It’s as coarse as gravel, deep and resonant. It’s practically a growl. “What are you doing in my personal bed chambers?”
I tense up but try not to startle. Slowly, I turn around only to find Lord Volgoroth Dathrium standing in the entrance, shocked to find someone in his bed chambers. He’s dressed head to toe in black armor, as though he’s just come from the battlefield. His red hair is tied back in a ponytail and his ginger beard looks full and well groomed.
Although he’s no King Pelos, he carries himself like royalty, and I know that what I’ve been commanded to do constitutes treason. But it may be the only way to determine is Valandra is in peril.
“I came for my sword,” I say, patting the pommel of the Moon Blade while keeping my eyes fixed on Dathrium. “It was stolen from me.”
“Ah, yes,” he says, entering the rest of the way into his room and letting the door shut behind him. “You’re that girl everyone has been talking about. The one who’s caused so much uproar these past few weeks. I was wondering when our paths might cross.”
“I see my reputation precedes me.” I try to sound cool and level-headed. But it only seems to come off corny when I say it aloud.
Nevertheless, Dathrium doesn’t seem threatened by me. He walks to a large crystal wine decanter that sits on one end of the large dining table, pulls the top off and then puts it to his lips. He takes a generous mouthful directly from the bottle and lets out a satisfied sigh. After wiping his read beard with the back of his armored hand, he bellows, “So, girl, who are you really?”
“I’m Arianna De Amato of Bellera.”
Dathrium huffs, as if my name is unfamiliar to him. I’m sure it is. All I am to him is a thorn in the side that needs to be gotten rid of.
“What’s the matter?” I ask. “You sound disappointed.”
“I have many enemies, girl. I don’t want to have to count you among them.”
“I didn’t know you cared,” I quip. But Dathrium seems to be unfazed by my attempts to goad him into losing his temper and giving me a reason to attack him.
After gulping down another swig of wine, he gets political. “I care about all my subjects. I care about Valandra.”
“Somehow, I find that hard to believe.”
“Believe what you will. The real question is, why have you taken it upon yourself to come to me now? Are you here of your own volition or has someone put you up to this task?”
I’m not going to let him get away with changing the subject so easily. I bring up his misdeeds. “Why have you taken it upon yourself to burn the temple of the monks and desecrate the sacred obelisk?”
Stroking his beard, he pauses to reflect upon the incident as if he feels remorseful. But it is probably just a ruse. “The fire was a tragic accident. But I assure you, I had nothing to do with that.�
�
This throws me off, because for the life of me I can’t figure out why Dathrium would lie about something like that. It has power play written all over it. If he didn’t order it, then who did?
“Why should I trust your word?”
“I swore I’d find who is responsible and hold them accountable. That is my word. Trust that.”
“And what about the Holy City?”
“Sabolin? What about it?” He grumbles.
“You sent the army of the dead to attack it, just as you sent them to attack Bellera a fortnight ago!”
“Rampant rumors. Nothing more!” he says. There’s no hint in his voice that he’s trying to cover anything up. It almost seems as if he is genuinely unaware of recent events, and it throws me off even more.
But, at the same time, I find it hard to believe that the acting king could be so poorly informed about the goings on of his own kingdom. I can’t help but feel he’s hiding something.
“Lies!” I scream. “It’s all lies!” With unchecked rage surging through my veins, I draw out the Moon Blade, feeling its power flow into me. With a fierce warrior’s cry, I lunge at Dathrium.
He’s barely able to draw out his blade in time. In a flash of white sparks, our swords come crashing together. The sparks flicker briefly, like fireflies pulsing on a warm summer night, before fading back into oblivion.
“What is it you want?” Dathrium growls. “Why have you really come here?”
That’s when Bethriel’s words come to me. Scare him. But don’t kill him. Well, that I can do.
A smile crawls onto my face when I realized I can answer both of Dathrium’s questions with a single reply. Looking straight into Dathrium’s emerald green eyes, in my most menacing voice, I answer his question. “To kill you.”
33
Each time my sword meets Lord Dathrium’s, the clash of steel kissing steel fills my ears with a song I know well. A song of great victories and devastating defeats. The song of two warriors locked in battle.
I grip my katana tightly in both hands and shuffle back a few steps. Lord Dathrium looks winded. We stare at each other with great mistrust as we try to gauge the other’s next move while we catch our breath.