The men booed at the sound of dishonor as the king rode up and down the line of soldiers.
“Today,” he continued. “We will ride our dragons into the valley and burn these traitors to the ground! For our gods! For our Lady Mary! And for Avalon!”
The troops erupted in cheers, and Oedipus stood back, realizing the king’s stature and how ruthless he could really be. Before his fall from greatness, he truly was the King of Kings, and he had done exactly what Oedipus needed him to do to get the army back on his side. He watched as the flags of Avalon fluttered in the wind and turned to the dragons landing in the forum. The first round of troops ran toward the dragons and climbed upon their backs.
The shimmering of the twelve dragons’ scales cast light across the large, white castle walls, and wind blew through the dirt as they lifted up and sailed toward the mountain peaks. It didn’t take long before all but the officers were delivered, and Oedipus took a deep breath as he climbed onto the back of Holland.
Be swift in battle, young Holland. And destroy any enemy that threatens the future of Avalon.
With those words from Oedipus, Holland let out a loud growl and took to the sky. Oedipus looked over the landscape and down at the icy, jagged rocks that made up the Allenforth Mountains. Holland flew through the peaks, guiding the other shifters to their places in the valley and finally, after a cold ride to the battleground, landed at the lead of the soldiers. Everyone was silent, and the wind that whipped through the mountains shielded any noise they may have made in the transport. Oedipus looked toward the troops and held up one finger. Everyone steadied themselves while Holland led the dragons forward to the edge of the pass.
This was their moment.
On the outside, the camp was functioning as usual–preparing swords, and training for a battle they hadn’t realized was already upon them. Smoke billowed from the dragons’ noses as they stood just out of sight. As the smoke rolled across the ground and out of the opening, the soldiers of Gillian paused and looked over at the shadowed valley entrance. Their pause was only for a moment as the dragons took their orders and allowed the crimson energy built up in the belly of the beasts to explode from their scaled mouths. Fire shot out from the opening, turning anyone in its path into cinder within seconds. As the dragons ran forward, the troops took to a run, bellowing out of the crevice with their swords high above their heads.
Oedipus emerged from the smoke and quickly looked around for any sight of Artus. He swung his sword as enemies approached, slicing them at the neck and stepping over their convulsing bodies. His trance-like stare scanned the camp as his soldiers attacked the unsuspecting men of Gillian. As Oedipus walked forward, his eyes fell on a small tent to the side of the camp, two guards poised at the opening. He knew that must be where the lady was kept.
Before he could advance toward it, however, his eyes were drawn to the left where Artus stood among the billowing smoke and bloody soldiers battling. The two locked eyes and advanced toward each other. As they met in the center, Artus swung his sword hard, meeting with Oedipus’ and holding tight as the ringing of the metal sent waves of energy back into his chest. Oedipus grinned slightly at the sight of Artus and his anger, and the two exchanged blows. In the early rising sun, the sounds of men screaming echoed through the valley, and the scene for Gillian was of nothing more than fire and smoke.
Artus stepped forward once again, slicing the air with his sword and knocking the handle from Oedipus’ hand. Oedipus dove for his sword and moved it quickly through the air, catching Artus across his thigh. Artus growled in pain as the flesh tore open and blood spilled down his knee. Oedipus stood up and knocked the sword from Artus’ hand as the Gillian commander stumbled backward and whispered loudly.
“It is your time,” Oedipus said as he raised his sword above his head. “I will take your head back to my king.”
“One day,” Artus replied, lifting his arms up in the air. “There will be a severed head, but that day is not today, and that head shall be yours.”
Oedipus growled and stepped forward, ready to end his life when the wind from a Gillian dragon blew his hair wildly and lifted Artus from the ground. Oedipus turned around in anger, watching as the Gillian shifters flew through the air, picking Gillian soldiers from the crowd and flying off with them. They were running. Oedipus thrust his sword downward in anger, striking the ground. He turned toward Lady Mary’s tent and watched as the guards ran, jumping onto the backs of the shifters and riding high into the air.
Holland’s division drove wildly at the enemy dragons, attempting to knock the men from their backs. Holland drug his claws across the back of a shimmering white foe and watched as his load of soldiers plummeted toward the rocky abyss below. The dragon roared and quickly flew off, not willing to engage in battle with his own kind. Holland turned back and watched as the last of the Gillian soldiers either rode off on dragon-back or perished to the swords of Avalon.
Through the smoke, hundreds of bodies lay in pools of their own blood, covered by the ashes of anyone that stood in the path of the dragons’ fire. Holland, though successful in his plight, couldn’t help but feel a bit of guilt for having taken the lives of so many. He swooped down and landed as the soldiers’ swords fell to their sides with no more to fight. A shimmer of metal reflected sunlight, catching Holland’s eye, and he looked over as Oedipus entered a small tent, untouched by the battle.
“Lady Mary,” Oedipus stated as he entered the tent. “Avalon is here.”
The Lady stood up, sighing and running toward Oedipus, overcome with relief. She threw her arms around the commander and hugged the cold armor over his shoulders. She pulled back and looked at his face curiously. A smile moved his lips, but not of pleasure, more of a diabolical nature.
“My Lady,” he whispered, pulling her back close, “you have done our realm a great service. Thank you for your sacrifice.”
“Sacrifice?” she asked, pulling back to look at his face once again.
At that moment, her face went from confusion to horror as she felt the cold steel of a dagger’s edge slide through her flesh and into her belly. Her legs went limp, and she grabbed onto Oedipus for support. Tears ran from her eyes as he lowered her to the ground, still holding strong to the knife. She tried to talk, but Oedipus covered her mouth gently.
“Shhh,” he whispered. “Don’t speak. It will be over soon. And when the king believes that Artus killed you himself, he will take Gillian and restore Avalon. All thanks to you.”
She shook her head as every part of her went limp, and a small whimper crossed her lips. Her eyes rolled slowly back in her head, and the air expelled from her lungs. Oedipus let go of the handle of the dagger that Artus had dropped during the battle. He then dropped the lady to the ground and wiped the blood from the front of his armor. He stood up and dusted his hands off, quite pleased with his handiwork. Before he could turn around, he heard the growl of a dragon, and wind whipped through the small tent.
“How could you?” Holland roared as he shifted back to his human form and pulled his sword from its sheath. Oedipus turned quickly to face him.
“I did it for Avalon,” he commanded. “Sacrifices must be made for the glory of our king.”
“You lie,” Holland screamed, catching the attention of the other soldiers. “You killed Lady Mary for your own revenge on Gillian.”
“No!” Oedipus yelled back, looking at the soldiers staring at him. “Artus killed Lady Mary when he decided to take her in the first place. We must advance on Gillian, and the king just needed to see that.”
Oedipus reached down slowly and picked up one of the fallen Gillian’s swords. Holland swung his, meeting the golden sword of Gillian with a loud crash. Oedipus kicked dirt into the air and lunged toward Holland, driving his sword into his stomach. Holland screamed as Oedipus withdrew the sword and stood back smiling. Holland reached down and felt the blood seeping from the wound. As he watched, blue sparks moved from his hand, up his arm, and dove deep into the gapin
g hole. The smile faded from Oedipus as he watched the devastating wound heal itself within a moment’s time.
Holland looked down at the stone in his hand and smiled as he picked up the sword next to him and began walking quickly toward Oedipus.
“You,” Oedipus yelled out, realizing what the stone he held was. “You are the one, who keeps Leonetta out in the late hours. You have dishonored your kingdom.”
Holland charged, punching Oedipus across the jaw and kneeing him in the stomach. The sword flew from Oedipus’ hand, and he hit his knees. Holland stood in front of him, grasping the handle to the sword.
“No,” Holland responded, “you are the disgrace. And I was told to destroy any enemy that threatens Avalon.” The sun gleamed off of Holland’s sword as it connected with Oedipus’ neck, sending his head rolling through the sand. Holland looked down at the cavity of his neck as it spilled blood over his boots. He heard a shift behind him and turned to find the whole of Avalon’s army standing before him, gazing at the bloody remnants of their commander.
The officers that were left standing after the battle stepped forward and faced Holland. They didn’t speak a word, and the silence was deafening. One by one, each of the officers took a knee and laid their swords in front of them. The soldiers followed suit until the Army of Avalon was kneeling before Holland, pledging their allegiance to a new commander.
Holland stood motionless, not knowing what to do at that moment. He grasped tightly to the stone, and as if Leonetta was sending magic to him, bravery and valor began moving through his veins. He took a deep breath, feeling as if the world around him had changed in that one instance.
“We are Avalon,” he pronounced. “And we shall not allow even those we are most loyal to, to desecrate our name and destroy our future.”
He held his glowing blue hand in the air, and cheers erupted from the soldiers around him. The dragons flapped their wings, wind circulating the dust that surrounded Holland, and he turned toward the sun, now high in the sky. At that moment, he knew no matter what the king said, he couldn’t allow his people, his army, or his love to fall into despair.
Everything seemed almost like a dream as he dropped his arm and turned back to the troops, who were waiting for the words of where to go from there. He pulled the officers in close and explained that they needed to tread lightly with the king. They all agreed to be uniform and strong in their resolve and to honor the sacrifice the Lady Mary had made for their lands. Alvis, the second in command, volunteered to escort the lady back to Trello, while the rest gathered themselves and made the flight. Holland agreed.
As the dragons slowly picked up their fallen and began to board the backs of the dragons, they realized that they had lost so many men that only one trip would be necessary to get back home. As the wings of the dragons flapped strongly, casting shadows onto the mountains, Holland shifted and stood over the body of Oedipus. He reached his claw out, dropping the blue stone. Its magic released as it hit the dirt and his claw clutched onto the commander’s bloodied head. Oedipus had promised the king a head, and Holland would make good on that promise.
Chapter Seven: A Noble Choice
Osiris shifted nervously in his chair as he stared down at the plate of food in front of him. No word had come from Gillian, but the king was sure of their success. The servant filled his glass once again with wine, and he looked out his chamber window, having taken his dinner in silence. He reached down and grabbed the piece of meat on his plate and tore it from the bone with his teeth. As he chewed, he watched the skyline for any sign of a dragon.
His motions slowed as the shimmering of the setting sun reflected off the scales of a large, white dragon. He dropped the bones onto the plate and ran from his chambers, knocking his chair over and pushing the servant girl aside. His steps did not slow as the king of Allenforth joined him. He moved quickly to the front of the palace and watched as the dragon drew closer. He squinted at its mighty claws, someone being carried in its clutches. He covered his face as the dragon landed, blowing up dirt and dust.
As the wind settled and the soil fell to the ground, he slowly stepped forward, anger building quickly in his chest. He walked forward, angrily brushing King Levontis’ hand from his shoulder and staring down at the lifeless body of the Lady Mary. He knelt down beside her and brushed the hair from her face. As he took to his feet, the blood boiled in his veins, and he looked over at Alvis, who was standing at attention in front of the king.
“Where is my Commander?” he screamed out. “Gillian will pay!”
“Your Grace,” Alvis said, bowing, “it was not Gillian that took the life of your sweet Lady Mary.”
“Then who?” he demanded.
“It was Oedipus,” he said, swallowing hard. “In attempt to start a war with Gillian.”
“You lie!” he shouted out, lunging for Alvis. King Levontis grabbed Osiris by the shoulders and pulled him back for council.
“Do you find there is reason for this lie?” Levontis stated, trying to keep Osiris’ attention. “Your man looked for war. He thirsted for revenge.”
King Osiris stood staring at King Levontis, mulling the questions over in his mind, anger swirling around him. He took a deep breath and looked back down at his wife. She had been a good and faithful lady, and her death would not go unchallenged.
“Where is this traitor?” King Osiris said sternly. “I shall sever his head from his shoulders.”
“I am afraid,” Alvis began, fearful of the reaction, “Your lady has been avenged. Oedipus lie headless in the valleys of Allenforth Mountains. Sadly, he was not caught before he killed Lady Mary, but he was killed in a battle by bravery and loyalty to our kingdom.”
“By whom?” the king asked with surprise. “Who so valiantly slew the killer of our queen?”
“He did,” Alvis said, stepping back as Holland landed swiftly, bowing to his dragon.
The king walked forward in amazement. He stood motionless, unable to reconcile the events that had transpired. Osiris took a step forward and placed his hand on Holland’s scaly body.
“Holland,” he stated. “You have killed Oedipus?”
Holland nodded his large head and opened his clutched claw. From his orange-scaled hand fell Oedipus’ head, hitting the ground and rolling to the feet of the king. Osiris bent down and looked at it, shaking his head in disbelief.
“You were promised a head,” Holland said from his human form and bowing to the king. “I am sorry for your loss. A wife and friend at the same time.”
“You have done your realm a great honor,” he said, stepping forward and shaking Holland’s hand.
“Your Grace,” Alvis said stepping forward, “if it pleases you, the whole of your army has laid down sword for young Holland. His valor will be spoken about for generations, and we will follow him into any battle.”
The king looked at Alvis and then back at Holland. He walked around the red-haired boy, now a man, studying his poise and size. He rubbed the hair on his long beard that seemed to have peppered with white overnight.
“You feel you can lead my army to greatness?” he asked Holland. “As Avalon’s commander, can you bring us pride and victory?”
“I will do as you wish,” Holland stated. “And whatever it takes to bring Avalon glory.”
“Yes,” the king stated, “you shall. Commander, I bid you welcome. Get your troops in order, bathe, and we shall meet in my chambers shortly. I will send word. In the meantime, we must get Lady Mary back to Avalon, so we may pay our respects and place her in the Garden of the Queens.”
Alvis and Holland bowed as the two kings walked back toward the castle and the servants scurried to retrieve Lady Mary’s body and get her to the chapel. She would be given to the gods in Trello but laid to rest among the flowers in Thorne. Holland watched as Lady Mary was carefully covered in silken cloth and carried gently out of sight. His thoughts lingered on the blood staining the grass and Leonetta’s pain once the news found her.
He searched
his mind for a way to send Leonetta his love before his return. As the army began to file in through the palace gates, he called out to a fellow shifter. He was one of the younger boys, but was strong and loyal.
I know you have fought hard and are tired, but I ask a favor of you.
Yes, Commander. Anything.
Take this charm back to Avalon and give it Lady Leonetta.
Holland pulled the pendant of the gods from his neck and laid it in the boy’s hand.
Do not tell the lady the fate of her mother. Just give this to her and leave. Do you understand?
Yes, sir. The boy bowed his head and walked back toward the gates, tucking the charm in the pocket of his trousers. Holland turned back toward the castle and began walking with the troops. They were hungry, sad, and tired, but their spirits were high at the prospect of a new future under the command of Holland.
After he had made sure that everyone was fed and a steady stream of wine was brought to them, he escaped the room and made his way to his chambers. When he entered, there was a servant next to a hot tub of water that had been brought in for him. He blushed slightly as she approached to help him undress. He laid his hand on hers and smiled.
“Thank you,” he stated. “But there is only one, who will bathe me. I can take it from here.”
The servant curtsied, a blush falling over her cheeks. As she approached the door, she paused. He watched her stand for a moment before she turned to him.
“The Lady Leonetta is a lucky queen,” she said before leaving the room. It appeared their love affair was not as secret as they thought. Holland smiled as he took his armor from his shoulders and sunk down in the hot water. He leaned his head back on the edge of the wooden tub and took in a deep breath of lavender. Visions of Leonetta flooded his mind, and he felt a twinge in his belly, where he had been struck with the sword.
War of the Realms Box Set Page 6