Conquest

by C B Samet

  “I tried to heal your scars, too. Even the scepter’s power has its limits.” I’d wanted to see if I could heal the marks on her back as well as her star, but the scar tissue didn’t yield.

  She nodded.

  I stuck my hands in my pockets. “You need to know that I’ve never attempted this much magic, so if I’m spent when this is over, I promise to return as soon as I’m whole again.”

  “Understood. How does the scepter work?” She turned over the heavy weapon, inspecting the metal and cracked stone within it.

  Abigail’s use of stones always had the user having direct contact with the stone—but the design of the scepter had the stone near the blade and away from the hilt.

  I pointed to the handle and blade. “The scepter is a copper composite. Copper conducts magic. Holding the handle will suffice.”

  “And to make all of this work, you have to fuse with me?”

  “Yes. We’ll merge as one for the duration of the battle.”

  She batted her eyes at me. “Are you going to make me all warm and fuzzy again?”

  I stepped closer. “You will be warm.” My eyes flickered from her lips and down to the scepter, causing her cheeks to flush. “You’ll also have more power coursing through you than you know how to harness—so you need to fully accept me and let me help you. If you try to be headstrong and control all of it alone… Well, I don’t know exactly what will happen, but let’s not find out.”

  “I will let you work your magic. Got it. Anything else?”

  “I checked on Natalie last night. She’s safe. Her, Orrick, and a handful of servants are still holed up in one of the antechambers off a secret passageway.”

  “I could kiss you for giving me the reassurance I needed. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” I gave a bow of my head.

  “If I don’t survive…”

  “No. Don’t.”

  “We both saw the glimpse of my death. It wasn’t an arena, and it wasn’t a ship. But it could be a castle. When I try to recall the images, I think I remember seeing your scepter. It didn’t occur to me until I was holding it yesterday.”

  I couldn’t claim to have seen much other than me holding Abigail as she died in my arms. I remembered shattered glass on the floor. It consisted of different colors like a stained glass window.

  “If that happens, will you look after the children?”

  I took a steadying breath. “As if they were my own. Orrick and I will take care of them.”

  Abigail nodded once and sucked in a quivering bottom lip. She was such a varied mix of fragility and strength.

  Abigail startled at footsteps and the sound of Goran’s voice behind her. “Morning worries?”

  She turned to look at him. “Morning reality,” she explained. “We’ve got a battle today.”

  “And you’ve got a winning plan.”

  “Perhaps. I certainly hope so. But I need to be down around the castle fighting. I can’t be up here coordinating the attack. I need you for that.”

  Goran cocked his head to one side and narrowed his eyes at Abigail. “You’re stabling me?”

  “I’m promoting you, Commander Goran.”

  She was also keeping him away from the fighting. I suspected she didn’t want the regret of making orphans of his children.

  He ran a hand along the stubble of his jaw. “My men follow me.”

  “Good. Then they’ll listen to you when you tell them to guard my flank on that battlefield.”

  He pursed his lips as his cheeks flushed. “Many of them have families, too.”

  Abigail wrapped her cape around her arms. “I don’t want to lose a single Crithian or Kovian life out there. If I could win the war on my own, I would. I can’t. I need soldiers. And I need to know you’re coordinating the success of the battle.”

  He started to open his mouth.

  “Yes. Safely. Up here.” After a moment of silence, she added, “I can’t fight and coordinate the facets of the attack. I need you to do that.”

  He struggled quietly for several long moments, battling through whether he’d succeed in convincing Abigail to let him fight.

  She kept her expectant stare hard.

  “Okay. I’ll command.” He turned and walked away from her.

  “You could sneak into the castle and kill the King,” I suggested.

  She shook her head. “The battle will still rage on out here. It won’t be as though they’ll immediately lay down their weapons. If I fight my way inside, then I’ve given them full visualization of what we’re capable of and they’ll see me breach the walls of the castle. Killing the King covertly isn’t enough. I need to break their morale.”

  I considered her methods. She was also choosing the route that would be harder on her but save more Kovian and Crithian lives in the process.

  Merging with Abigail felt like home. I was comfortable nestled within the matter comprising her bone, muscle, and tissue. We were two matched pieces of a puzzle, at last fitting together. I’d have preferred to be my own flesh and trace my fingers along her skin, feeling the textured softness of it. This was the next best thing to actual physical contact. I united with her soul—her breath was my breath, her heartbeat was my heartbeat.

  Abigail sat on top of Phobus and looked down at the army of men and women—all five hundred of them. Coco and her guards wore armor draped in vests of blue with the silver horse of Marrington embroidered on them. Goran’s hardened men from Kovia dressed in thick, but supple leather and wore black bandanas with two white circles on them—the two moons. The monks were a small collection of vibrant blue cloaks. Five hundred in total against five thousand.

  “I am Abigail Cross. Some of you have heard of me as the Avant Champion. I have fought to protect Crithos for over a decade. Today, I fight against the forces of Bellos, who seek to colonize us, and infect us, and enslave us. Artemis Stout unlawfully seized Marrington Castle, and he will spread like a plague from here to eastern Kovia if we don't stop him.

  “I'm honored to have you join me on the battlefield, and what you witness today will be written in the monks’ history books for generations to read. But know this—if you have never seen magic before, it can be awe-inspiring. Today, I will harness magic against Bellosian forces to bring them to their knees. Protect yourself, and give my powers a wide berth.

  “Remember that you, as soldiers, are the third wave. Move behind me and work your way around me, but let me make the path to the castle gate.”

  As she raised the scepter into the air, I coursed my magic through it, and watched a yellow bolt of lightning arc into the gray clouds. It momentarily lit the sky in blinding beauty.

  “For freedom!” she bellowed.

  The soldiers cheered in unison—probably more at my magic than Abigail’s rousing speech, but a dramatic flair would boost morale when outnumbered ten-to-one.

  We faced the field, the space between our armies. It was at once expansive and not wide enough. I sensed Abigail’s reluctance to kill soldiers—men who were following orders—but King Artemis left her no choice. He was monstrous and devious… and doomed by his own actions.

  As Abigail and I approached the castle on horseback, Bellosian archers launched a volley of arrows into the sky. Behind us, Goran’s and Coco’s soldiers braced themselves with shields raised overhead. Arrows first made sense, given the distance between the two armies. Bellosian pistols were only useful for close range, so those were yet to come.

  I surged power through Abigail and through the scepter in her hand. A burst of wind spread into the sky. It spun like a tornado, catching the arrows in its funnel. Then it dissipated rapidly—shooting the arrows back to the ground, but with new trajectories: the Bellosian soldiers. Most didn’t get shields raised in time to protect themselves as they gaped at the magic they’d witnessed. Nearly a hundred collapsed after being struck.

  I heard the gasps of surprise from the men and women behind us, followed by cheers.

  “Magic is quite
the morale booster,” Abigail said to me.

  Indeed, I replied, communicating directly into her mind.

  From the sky, a hundred hawks dove for enemy troops. On each of their backs sat a brownie. I felt Abigail’s emotions. She was overwhelmingly humbled to see so many small friends come to her aid. Together, they unleashed a unanimous high-pitched battle cry and dropped small sacks of sleeping powder. Raven rode Carrot, and Gray Wolf—leader of the brownies—rode Luke’s bird, Albatross. After releasing their load a dozen birds at a time, they turned sharply, wave after wave, back into the sky. Nearly a hundred soldiers collapsed, unconscious.

  The birds and brownies soared high, their objective accomplished. Abigail had made her instructions clear–one dive-bomb sleeping assault and nothing more. She didn't want enemy archers to have a chance to fire at them if they circled back around for another assault.

  Minimal casualties.

  The remaining—still thousands—of Bellosians charged on the command of a horseman at the helm. I didn't recognize the man, but he wasn’t the King. He obviously had enough strategic skill to recognize Abigail couldn't use an aerial assault if the two armies were intermixed on the ground.

  “Let’s see how well they coordinate without a leader,” Abigail said.

  I obliged. Golden lightning shot from the scepter and struck the leading general, hurling him from his horse.

  Abigail grimaced. She knew firsthand the horrendous agony of a strike from that bolt of energy.

  Just remember Malos hit you with that magic on Marrin Beach, not me, I told her.

  “I remember. It’s not an event I’ll ever forget.”

  The army continued to charge.

  Abigail motioned her army forward, keeping us well in the lead at a gallop. When we approached the fallen general, he clamored to his feet, reaching for his sword. Abigail used the scepter blade and beheaded him in a clean sweep.

  I kept an arch of air around us, preventing assailants from encroaching on Phobus and Abigail. Behind us, the Kovian and Crithian armies began engaging the Bellosian soldiers.

  Together, Abigail and I invoked lightning, fire, and wind to plow through the enemy who stood between us and the castle. We gouged our way through scores of soldiers, both of us feeling the weight of their deaths, as they made notches in our conscience that we’d feel the need to atone for later. Most of the bullets fired from the soldiers’ pistols went askew by the magic encasing us. I was able to instantaneously heal the few that grazed Abigail and injured her.

  Abigail turned to look behind us. Bellosian soldiers had flanked around us and were killing Kovian and Crithian soldiers at alarming rates with their superior projectiles. If we turned around, our path to the castle gate would be lost. Since I’d never expended this much magic, I also didn’t know how long I’d last. Conflict tore at Abigail—did she continue to the gate and crush the King? Or stay and spare lives on the battleground?

  The ground shook and thunderous battle cries filled the air, bringing the fighting to a halt as all eyes turned to the south. Over the hill stormed the Hunju giants and mixers. Portia—a fierce muscle-laden female and leader of the Hunjus—led the giants as they stormed the battlefield.

  Crithian soldiers roared with delight.

  Bellosian soldiers tried to regroup and re-form their line, but the giants approached too quickly and plowed through the soldiers.

  Abigail’s heart swelled with gratitude as she focused her determined gaze back on the gate of the outer wall. King Artemis Stout was soon to regret the day he took the Champion of Crithos captive.

  38

  ABIGAIL

  When Mal had first merged with me while I held the scepter, an exhilaration of power coursed through me. After a moment, the solar flare of magic calmed to a steady glow. Light, wind, water, land, strength, healing, and fire—I could feel them all from the top of my head to the tips of my toes.

  As we fought, I surrendered part of myself to Mal—to control the shift of my arm and direction of the scepter. Part of me felt strangely like I’d fallen under the spell of a puppeteer, but I trusted him fully. As we immersed deeper into the battle, the odd sensation subsided and we simply moved as one.

  Mal and I broke through the outer wall using our combined stones of strength. I pushed rising sadness and remorse aside. I hated tearing apart parts of the castle dear to my heart, but saving lives trumped stone and wood. The latter could be rebuilt.

  I dismounted Phobus to walk from the outer wall to the inner wall. Soldiers guarded the path from the outer gate to the inner gate, but Mal and I knocked them aside with the power of the wind. A rogue bullet struck my leg, but Mal healed it before it could even slow me down.

  I broke through the inner courtyard gate, splinters of wood flying off the enormous hinges. I thought of the Queen, of her many lessons over the years, and of avenging her death.

  “Mal, I have to warn you!” A thin brownie floated in the air dressed in green with a matching green hat fashioned to look like a snake’s head with beady black eyes.

  “Who’s that?” I asked.

  “You can see me?” His voice was high-pitched, higher-pitched than Raven’s.

  You can see him? Mal asked.

  “Yes, you’re a brownie. I didn’t know brownies could fly.”

  They can’t. Snake Eyes is my spirit companion.

  A soldier launched himself toward me. I spun and sliced his torso with the sharp edge of the scepter.

  “I didn’t know you had a spirit friend.”

  Snake Eye’s beamed.

  He was a dear friend in life and only just recently joined me. I didn’t have time to tell you about him, given the urgency of going to Bellos and the trouble that ensued.

  I thrust the scepter into a soldier who’d approached from behind me with his sword raised. “I’m pleased to meet you,” I said to Snake Eyes.

  “Likewise, Abbey. But you need to know that Orrick’s been beaten and…”

  “Where’s the wizard?” My heart sped faster.

  “With the King, but…”

  “Please, can you lead me to them?”

  “This way.”

  I followed the floating brownie spirit, leaving dead bodies in my path to the Queen’s throne room. When I shoved open the heavy double doors, cold fear riveted through me like a shockwave.

  Torches lit the walls, casting light on the horrific scene before me. Orrick sat shackled to a chair off to one side looking so pale and limp, I feared he was dead. Beside him, Minister Tarik’s exposed skin of his face and hands were battered and bruised. A handful of soldiers lined the walkway to the King. The men in red tunics stood ready with swords drawn but kept their distance.

  Directly in my line of site towered King Artemis. Behind him stretched an enormous, stained-glass window of a sea serpent beneath the two moons. In one hand, Artemis Stout clutched a jagged, black dagger—and in the other arm he clutched a wide-eyed, yet obstinate-looking girl in a blue dress.

  Natalie.

  Stars and stones.

  The King held the blade of his dagger to her throat. I tightened my grip on the scepter as I fought to control my fury. In the span of a few seconds, I considered all of the magic at my disposal, but the route to destroy him while avoiding harm to my daughter escaped me. A stream of fire, water, or air could either hit Natalie, or still give the King time to impale her with the blade.

  “Surrender—or I will gut her!” he cried.

  I adjusted my grip on the scepter.

  Mal? Can we spear the fish?

  By the Unideit, Abigail, I swear I will not fail you.

  I hurled the scepter. Magic of fire and wind flew with it, guided by Mal, keeping the trajectory true and speeding it through the air like a bullet from a Bellosian pistol.

  As the tip of Mal’s scepter buried itself between King Artemis’ eyes, Natalie dove for the ground and curled into a ball. Artemis Stout fell backward onto the thrown—dead. The thrown tipped backward into an alter, whose corner
knocked into the stained-glass window. Shards of glass rained onto the floor and the light of sun spilled into the room.

  The remaining soldiers roared in protest. All six of them rushed toward me.

  Go to your brother, Mal. Heal him.

  I can’t leave you.

  I’ll be fine.

  I pulled out the confiscated pistol from my waist and fired at the nearest swordsman. He crumpled to the floor.

  It appears you will.

  The other men hesitated, but soon they saw I had no other ammunition.

  Mal separated from me and rushed to Orrick.

  I picked up the shot soldier’s sword. I may not have the power of Malos, but I still had my Warrior Stone and two decades of training. Like a dance, we battled with swords. One by one, the King’s men fell, joining Stout in death.

  I finished, panting and spent. I glanced at the wizard, who was moaning in the process of healing.

  “Natalie?” I cautiously called to the child who cowered quietly in the corner. What nightmares would she have of this? What would she think of her mother—looking like a monster, bathed in the blood of fallen soldiers?

  I dropped the sword and knelt on the floor a meter away from her. I used part of my red cape to swipe my face and hands. She could tell I was her mother, right?

  She uncurled her small body like an unfurling flower. “Is this what you’ve been doing all these years when you left the house?” Her gaze took in the corpses littering the floor. “This is what the Champion does?”

  I grimaced and swallowed. “This is what I do.” I didn’t perform my duties on the mass scale of today’s war, but I was the strong arm of the Queen—brute defender of Crithos.

  Natalie stood and walked into my arms. “I’m so proud to call you mother.”

  Tears filled my eyes and spilled over. I glanced up at Mal, who smiled with glistening eyes. He’d drained himself practically transparent from the abundant use of magic.

  Orrick was standing now and had taken a stance to guard the door. “I’m sorry, Abigail. They discovered our hiding spot.”