The Broken Reign

by Jeremy Michelson

  “You are almost ready to come out of the forge,” Kojanza said.

  Joshua buried his face in her hair, inhaling the sweet musk of her. Every night for...he didn’t know how long, months, maybe close to a year now, and it was still the most awesome thing that ever happened to him.

  Which kind of made up for the aches and pains of those first few months.

  "I still don't know what you and your papa are expecting me to do," Joshua said, "I don't have any real magic. I mean Tojedda–your papa–has taught me a lot about your local tech–magic, whatever. But he doesn't have enough of it to fight an army. If you had a computer here, I could program it to balance your checkbook, or maybe play tic tac toe. That's about all I was good for in my world."

  She shook her head. “You speak so strangely sometimes,” she said.

  “Yeah, that’s how I roll.”

  Kojanza’s hand moved farther down. Suddenly he found himself rising to the occasion again. Getting fit had other benefits.

  “You are of her blood,” she said, “You will right the world again.”

  “I didn’t know the world was off kilter.”

  Her hand massaged him, bringing him to life. He wanted her to stop talking and just keep doing all the things she’d been doing for him.

  “We are not as isolated here as you think,” she said, “Things have been happening. Papa has been speaking to the animals. They bring him news of the kingdoms.”

  This was new. Joshua wasn’t aware the old man talked to animals. He had an image of the old man sitting on a log while squirrels and bunny rabbits chittered and squeaked the news at him. He almost laughed, but Kojanza’s serious look stopped him. He had learned a lot in the last few months. But not quite enough to defend himself against her anger.

  “So what have the animals been telling papa?” he asked.

  “They tell him the kingdom of the forest people has fallen. That Anta Vin is dead, killed by one of her own,” she said.

  He remembered Anta Vin and her pronouncing a death sentence on him. That she was dead didn’t seem like too bad of a thing to him.

  “They also tell him that King Hurdroth of the Northern Lands is building an army for war. That Hurdroth has already stolen Lord Fortune’s land, and that the Council of Lords is helpless to do anything about it. But General Hemdell has been gathering his warriors on the plain of Badden, and has ambitions of being king of all the lands.”

  He remembered Hurdroth. Big, ugly and smelling like a wet dog. He’d also thrown Joshua in a dungeon with a horse that tried to poop on him. No fond memories there. The old man, Tojedda, had been cramming his head full of local history in the evenings. He had a vague idea who General Hemdell was. The man was something of a freelance mercenary for the Council of Lords. Apparently he now wanted to be king of everything.

  “Great, anything else?” Joshua asked.

  Kojanza nodded. “They told papa that the sleepers in the forest people’s forbidden land have woken again.”

  “Forbidden land? What’s that?” Joshua asked. This was something else that was new. Why hadn’t the old man or Kojanza told him about a forbidden land?

  “A part of the forest where no one is allowed to go,” Kojanza said.

  “Ok, that explains the forbidden part,” Joshua said, “Is there a why to go with it? Who are the sleepers and why have they woken up?”

  Kojanza shook her head. “I don’t know. Papa knows, but he has never told me. It was something Anta Vin and he had done a long time ago.”

  "Leaving aside the whole talking animals thing, I still don't understand what you and your papa are expecting me to do," he said, "I mean, I can't complain. All the training you guys have given me has put me in the best shape of my life. It's like some medieval Gold's Gym. Complete with sword fighting. Which is very cool, but I don't want to ever have to use it for real."

  Kojanza lifted herself on top of him, easing down slowly. His eyes crossed as he suppressed the animal sounds that wanted to burst from his throat. She always wanted to be on top, but he wasn’t about to argue the point with her.

  “You are being forged for your destiny,” she said, “You were brought to Seivar for a reason. You came to us for a reason. Nothing happens without the invisible hand of destiny behind it.”

  “Uh huh,” he said. His brain was shutting down as she moved. The woman was skilled at more than just fighting.

  She bent down and kissed him. “I love you, Joshua, blood of Amaya.”

  “I love you too,” he said. And he realized he did. Strange, aloof, but passionate Kojanza. He wrapped his arms around her, the heat of her burning his skin.

  Her perfect blue eyes looked into his. “Remember me,” she said.

  “What?”

  The cabin door burst open with a crack of breaking wood. Cold air rushed in, along with an animal stench of unwashed bodies. Bearded men poured through the doorway, swords and axes in hand, battle cries ringing from their throats.

  Kojanza leapt off of him in one smooth motion. In her hand was a gleaming longsword. Naked, she swung it at the attackers.

  Joshua was in motion, too. He grabbed two daggers from under the bed. He tumbled to the floor, crouched. A wild-eyed man with leather armor came at him, battle ax in hand.

  Joshua glimpsed Kojanza, whirling, slashing men, blood splattering her perfect skin. Then with a howl, he launched at the man with the ax. The old man's and Kojanza's training kicked in. He dived under the swinging ax. The man was off balance for a moment.

  Without thinking, Joshua plunged the daggers into the man’s sides. The deadly sharp weapons slipped past the gaps in the man’s armor. He screamed, then slumped, dropping the ax, falling to the floor.

  Joshua yanked the bloody daggers out, turning to the next man. He looked to Kojanza. A pile of bodies was growing around her. Men kept pouring through the door.

  “Get down!”

  The old man. Joshua flung himself to the floor, seeing Kojanza do the same. Something cracked and the room filled with the sharp smell of ozone. Joshua saw blue light fly out around the room. Where it struck men they screamed and dropped. Joshua looked to the old man. He held some kind of rifle. Electric bolts shot out of the end.

  Something whizzed through the air and buried itself in the old man’s chest.

  “Pappa!” Kojanza cried.

  The old man let go of the weapon. It tumbled to the floor, going dark. He clutched at the arrow sticking out of his chest. He looked surprised. Not at the arrow. Something in the doorway.

  “Lord Fortune,” the old man said. He fell, landing with a meaty thud, his eyes wide open.

  Kojanza screamed and leapt up, her bloody sword rising. A man stood in the doorway, bow in hand. With a shock, Joshua recognized Dovd. Behind him stood another old man, tall and distinguished. More bearded and armored men came in around them.

  Kojanza rushed Dovd. He already had another arrow notched. He let it fly. It stuck in her shoulder and she spun. Joshua jumped up, daggers in both hands.

  Before he could raise them, bearded men piled on him, driving him to the floor.

  “Don’t kill him!” someone shouted.

  He struggled against the stinking tide of men, screaming Kojanza’s name.

  Twenty-Seven

  The Gray Witch

  “I wish you’d put some clothes on,” Javanae said.

  The Gray Witch’s lips turned up slightly. The only smile she allowed herself. They sat on opposite sides of the small fire, out in the night darkened meadow. Away from the house and its cargo of misery.

  Fragrant smoke curled up, twisting, forming, dissipating in the small air currents from the sisters’ breathing. Javanae’s breath created an eddy in the smoke. It revealed her soul to the Gray Witch. It was a small thing, but with a surprising core of strength. The Gray Witch wondered if it came from father or from mother.

  "Could you at least not sit cross-legged like that?" Javanae asked, "I honestly don't need a view of your womanly parts. I mean, y
ou really do shave everything, don't you?"

  The Gray Witch noted Javanae's nervousness had been increasing in the year since they came through the portal. She didn't like not being in control. Especially not in control in an alien place. She had gotten snappy with their sister Levay, telling her to shut mother up. Mother lay on the bed, moaning continuously now. Javanae had complained of not getting enough sleep. Dark circles grew under her beautiful sister's eyes. It was hard to stay composed and not gloat.

  “Why do I have to be here, anyway?” Javanae asked, “You never wanted me with you before when you divined the smoke.”

  “The smoke has already told me everything it has to say, sister,” The Gray Witch said.

  "Then why am I out here in this stupid meadow in the middle of the blessed night?" Javanae asked, "It's cold, I'm going to freeze since you can't even make a proper fire."

  The Gray Witch was prepared for the complaint. She threw the powder in her hand on the embers. Flames shot up a dozen feet toward the sky. Javanae cried out, tumbling backward.

  The fire settled down and The Gray Witch felt satisfied with the fear and anger on her sister’s face.

  “What the bloody hell, Saven?” Javanae said.

  With a single, smooth motion The Gray Witch rose to her feet. She stepped around the flames and stood over her sister.

  “Times of change have come, sister,” The Gray Witch said, “In a few days three men with come to this valley.”

  Javanae’s eyes widened. “Soldiers? More of the king’s men?”

  “No, these are men from the other world,” The Gray Witch said.

  Janvanae sat up. “Men like the Death Queen?”

  “No. Nothing like her. But they are going to help us bring her back.”

  “What! Are you mad!” Javanae cried. She leapt to her feet. Javanae was taller than her, but she seemed smaller now. “Why would you want to bring her back?”

  “Her spirit is already here. She has spoken to me,” The Gray Witch said.

  Javanae was backing away now. “You are crazy, Saven,” she said, “I’ve put up with your madness for too long. If it wasn’t for the memory of father, I would have killed you before now.”

  The Gray Witch stepped forward, aware of the flames at her back. She remembered stories of Queen Amaya walking through flames. What would Javanae be thinking of her right now?

  “You have not the heart for murder, sister,” The Gray Witch said.

  Javanae’s chin went up. “Mother was once a warrior, as was father. Their blood runs in me.”

  “As it does me. Which of us do you think is more willing to wield a killing blade?” The Gray Witch asked.

  Javanae didn’t answer. Her lip quivered and her eyes glistened. For a moment The Gray Witch let herself savor the victory. For so long, the beautiful Javanae had ruled the family. Now it was time for her to yield.

  “When the men arrive you will allow them into the house,” The Gray Witch said, “You will give them food and a place to rest. When they have rested, I will come and speak to them.”

  Javanae crossed her arms, “And what if I don’t?”

  “You will.”

  Javanae stared at her, mouth working. Finally she spun and stomped back toward the house. The Gray Witch watched her stomp across the meadow, up to the distant house. Watched until Javanae yanked open the door and disappeared into the warm glow inside. The slam of the door echoed up the valley.

  She turned back to the dying fire, and rubbed a hand over her bare skull. It was time to start letting her hair grow out.

  Amaya told her to be proud of it.

  The presence of the Grim Mountains bulked up around her. Everything Father had written in his book had come to pass. All rested on her shoulders now.

  “This time we will win, father,” she said to the cold night air.

  Twenty-Eight

  Vazsa

  Lou made Vazsa stop the armor before they reached the burned out lodge. She put the motor units on standby, and locked the controls down. The confined cabin smelled of metal and oil and Lou’s sweat. He was staring at the still smoldering ruin on the screen.

  “This is bad,” he said.

  They were at a three-way juncture between the forest people's land, the forbidden area and the gorge–which marked the border of the Southern Lands. Vazsa examined the image. Blackened chunks of wood jutted up from a field of trampled snow. A lot of men had been there. But why?

  "Who lived here?" Vazsa asked. She was surprised to see a dwelling of any kind at the borderlands.

  “Our informant,” Lou said, “He and his daughter were good recon for us. Kept us appraised of what the locals were up to.”

  Locals. That would be her and her people. Along with people of the other kingdoms.

  Lou turned to another control panel. He flipped some switches and another window came to life. Screen. Another of their words for their magical devices. He pulled a headpiece down from the ceiling and settled it over his eyes.

  "What are you doing?" she asked. A glance at the new screen showed an array of red lines and a strange black and green view of the burned out cabin. Words on the bottom of the screen blinked. Weapons systems armed, it said.

  Weapons. She suspected the Armor had defenses built into it. Now she watched as Lou manipulated the controls. On a third screen–the status screen–she saw an outline of the Armor. The Armor’s forearms and hands were blinking red. A-22 missiles armed. Pulse rifles charged. On the status screen the arms bent at the elbow, hands pointed toward the cabin. Vazsa heard motors whine and metal creak. More words scrolled on the screen. Targeting, it said.

  “Lou...what are you doing?” she asked again.

  His head moved back and forth. He wore the special gloves that controlled the Armor’s arms and hands. He flexed the hand and made it point at the blackened cabin.

  “Taking precautions,” he said, “Delta Tango Alpha Seven, voice command.”

  “Voice command active,” a female voice said out of nowhere.

  Vazsa craned her head around, trying to find the source.

  “Run a heat scan, 360 degrees, put targets up on the weapons display.”

  “Scanning. Targets on display.”

  “Eliminate targets under 45 kilos,” Lou said.

  “Done.”

  Lou sat still for several moments. “Increase to maximum scan radius.”

  The voice paused. “Sensor array failure at 120 to 172 degrees. Rotate to compensate?”

  Lou swore softly. “Yes, rotate.”

  The armor moved without Vazsa touching the controls. She gave Lou an alarmed look, but he still had the headset on and didn’t seemed bothered by the movement.

  “No more targets acquired,” the voice said.

  Lou swore, louder this time. “Stand down, weapons return to standby mode.”

  “Acknowledged. Do you wish a system status report? Axial motor 22 is experiencing–”

  “Voice command off!” Lou snapped.

  The voice stopped. Lou stripped off the control gloves and raised the headset. His brow was furrowed, his face angry looking. He flipped switched on the other console and turned to Vazsa.

  “Shall we put some boots on the ground and take a look?” he said.

  Twenty-Nine

  Vazsa

  The cold air made her shiver as Lou opened the hatch. She hated that living in the ship was making her so soft. The temperature was always the same. The bed was always soft. There was always food.

  “Coming princess?” Lou asked.

  She pulled the soft, but warm coat around her–another luxury from the ship–and clambered out. Immediately the stink of wet, burned wood hit her. Along with something else. A scent of charred meat.

  They climbed down the back of the Armor. She noticed Lou had a weapon of some sort slung over his shoulder. As he jumped to the ground, he unslung it and held it in both hands, pointing toward the ruin.

  Vazsa landed beside him. “What is that?” she asked.
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  “Pulse rifle,” Lou said, “Don’t stand in front of it, okay?”

  He walked slowly toward the cabin. Vazsa’s dormant forest senses began to come back to her. She breathed deeply, letting the scents fill her. Sharp tang of the pines, crisp dampness of the snow. Beneath it all a light scent of decay. She listened beyond the low whine of the idling Armor. Wind rushing in the branches high above them. A squirrel chittered at them from a safe notch in the tree bark. Somewhere a bird called. Her ship boots, soft and warm, crunched on the snow.

  This is where I belong. A part of her longed to run away from Lou, from the deadly and strangely attractive Armor. Run back to her home at the great lodge. Shuck off the otherworlder’s boots and clothes, turn away from their magic.

  But Cray was still back at the ship. And back at the great lodge...was Dovd there? There was a feeling of dread in her heart. A feeling that something was terribly wrong. Not just back at the great lodge, but everywhere.

  Ever since the red-haired stranger came into the world.

  Lou stopped at the edge of the burned cabin. She came up beside him. There was still a lingering heat coming from it. The fire had only happened a few hours ago then. Sometime in the night.

  Lou had roused her from her bed early, telling her he needed to go on patrol. She had asked him to include her on all the patrols. The Armor fascinated her, she wasn’t sure why.

  Once in the cockpit (another strange name), Lou had directed her to a new area instead of the usual route. They had come straight to this cabin.

  Lou took a far speaker box out of his coat and stepped into the blackened debris. He fiddled with the buttons and the box started beeping. He swept the box out in front of him as he walked through the burned remains of the cabin. Vazsa followed him, the stench of destruction clogging her senses.

  The beeping increased in frequency. Suddenly Lou stopped and bent down. Vazsa held back a gasp as she recognized the charred remains of skeleton. Most of it had been burned away, but part of the skull and enough bones remained to make it clear it was human.