Monsters & Mist

by Taylor Fenner

  The sound of Vacantian and Shroudanian foot soldiers barking orders can be heard by the barracks and the castle gates as they herd their men out to investigate and extinguish the Starborn created flames licking up the sides of the now-evacuated hovels lining the edge of the city. They don’t realize, not yet, that they will be running headfirst into a trap.

  “This way,” Andromeda yells charging ahead toward the palace with Daegan’s crew in tow. The streets are deathly quiet save for the sounds of the Vacantian and Shroudanian soldiers scrambling about. The homes closer to the city center that house the nobility of Vanyia are dark. Those that chose not to flee when Octavia evacuated the city hide with their valuables beneath their dwellings.

  A squad of Shroudanian soldiers dart down the path before Andromeda and she orders her people to break formation.

  Blood splashes upon the walls of the grand homes as Andromeda forges ahead cutting down the soldiers in her path. Daegan grunts as he cuts down a Shroudanian soldier attempting a blitz attack on Andromeda, his blade cutting through the soldier, armor and all, like butter as the soldier thuds to the ground in pieces.

  The eight-armed octopus man, Serpane and his equally armed sister Sithryn roar a battle cry as they charge through the approaching Shroudanians, dismembering them and leaving them littering the street in bloody heaps.

  “Come on,” Andromeda calls once her path is cleared. She can hear the sounds of swords clinking together in the distance as her people face off against the Vacantian and Shroudanian forces and somewhere on the other side of the city the Starborn riders clean up the soldiers not finished off by Cygni and the Order.

  Shadows cast over the city center as Andromeda and Daegan’s crew flow forth from the road behind them as Perscesian Legionnaires pass overhead setting to work burning the Royal barracks to the ground and aiding their kinfolk wherever possible.

  Two lines of at least thirty strong, muscled soldiers guard the palace gates but Andromeda doesn’t waver as she stalks forward.

  Her face is splattered with the blood of Vacantian and Shroudanian soldiers already and her hair falls in chunks from the plait she’s braided her hair back into. Her expression is lethal and she carries her aquaswift in one hand and her modified netgun in the other looking every inch a warrior princess. The men guarding the gate waver in their resolve to man their post.

  Andromeda can taste their fear, can smell it coating their skin in a thin sheen and she purrs with anticipation as she runs head on at the soldiers guarding the gate. A ferocious cry slips past her lips as she lobs the head off the highest ranking soldier before running a second through with her sword and putting a sharpened sea stone bullet through the skull of a third with her modified net launcher. Daegan slices soldiers down at her back as his crew fan out as the soldiers guarding the gate seem to snap from their terror and attempt to fight back.

  The Shroudanian soldiers carry blades that are long and curved at the tip while the Vacantians wield some of the most expensively forged swords in the kingdoms but neither are a match for the speed and agility of the Perscesians who can flick between corporeal and mist at will.

  In the end a third of Daegan’s crew lay dead on the ground and the few Vacantian and Shroudanian soldiers who have not succumbed to death have slipped away heavily wounded. Andromeda steps aside as Serpane charges forward knocking the wooden gates open with his head with such force that the gates launch into the air landing twenty feet inside the corridor.

  Remembering the path she was dragged down ages ago when Thane brought Andromeda to the palace as his prisoner Andromeda leads her people to the throne room.

  Lyra sits poised upon the throne, her back straight and her sharp nails digging into the splintered arms of the throne. She looks bored by the interruption though it is clear that she was awaiting Andromeda’s arrival.

  “I believe you were looking for me.” Andromeda grins madly.

  ❖

  Cygni

  Cygni’s men spilled from the forest as mounted Starborn riders made quick work of dispatching the soldiers and archers patrolling the walled walkway between the West and east towers. Men and women in Vacantian orange and black fell from the walls, flaming arrows protruding from their chests, backs, and heads.

  Cygni’s stomach turns over as he watches the scene. Turning to Lester he nods, giving him the signal.

  “Charge!” Lester growls as his voice ripples and reverberates over the soldiers and warriors before him, snapping them to attention and driving them to action.

  The front line splits into two even rows and hoist up the tree truck battering ram the Order of the Thorn had harvested from deep in the forest. The ground shakes as the trunk crashes into the city gate creating a dent ten men wide. The gate splinters and groans and with one more heavy thrust the gate breaks away in two flimsy heaps.

  “Onward,” Cygni orders as Watierai Warriors and members of the Order rush through the opening where the gate once stood like a dam bursting. Overhead the Starborn lend a hand to setting the city ablaze. Cygni draws his sword, spilling into the city alongside Lester and his sentinels as the dazzling city he grew up in — so full of light and exotic scents and sounds - grows thick with smoke and bright with flame as it turns to rubble before his eyes.

  Following Cygni and his council’s marching orders his allies and soldiers break off to attack different parts of Vanyia’s defenses. Diving into the fray Cygni charges toward the onslaught of tipsy Vacantia soldiers stumbling from a low-end pub at the sound of the commotion.

  He forces his mind to clear to remember his purpose and forget that the soldiers bolting his way could have been men he dined and drank and caroused with. With each slice and swipe of his blade he’s not cutting down a friend or acquaintance, he’s taking back the kingdom that is rightfully his.

  Blood splatters over Cygni’s face and armor but he doesn’t hesitate, he pushes on.

  A loud gushing noise drowns out the sound of swords clinking and men dying, rocking the ground beneath Cygni’s feet. He turns to look behind him, immediately realizing his mistake as a deluge of water pours through the opening in the city wall drowning the city as if the sea itself has emptied itself upon the city all at once.

  The force of the water knocks Cygni and his soldiers off their feet carrying them onward toward the city center in a deadly current. All Cygni can do is brace himself and pray to whatever gods are listening to protect him.

  ❖

  Octavia

  Octavia watches in horror from above as a massive wall of water crashes through the broken city gate flushing Cygni’s men toward the city center in a shivering mess of drowning bodies clinging to anything they can get their hands on. A silence trickles across her stormriders as they watch on helplessly.

  “We have to help them,” Octavia calls out to her sisterhood.

  Without hesitation Octavia urges Sturmfyre into a harsh dive toward the ground before a plan has even fully formed in her head. Turning to fire is out, all that will accomplish is to boil her allies and friends to death. The bigger question is where did the rogue wave originate? It came out of nowhere. From what Octavia could see from above the water rushed down from the mountains nowhere near a water source great enough to provide this much water.

  The water level rises as the wave flattens out throughout the city and Octavia knows what she must do.

  “Land your mounts, only long enough to take on a soldier then take to the skies again. We need to save our allies at all costs.” Octavia shouts into the wind and rain behind her.

  “On your word, Storm Leader,” Imelda’s voice sounds like a whisper in the din as her sisterhood breaks formation to carry out Octavia’s orders.

  Sturmfyre dips down low enough and Octavia calls out to the nearest soldier bobbing in the surf, “Grab my hand!”

  The soldier pants as he struggles to paddle toward Octavia and she belatedly remembers that most of her adopted people have never learned to swim for fear of the Perscesians at sea. O
nce the soldier draws close enough she hauls him onto Sturmfyre’s back behind her and orders him to hold on tight before nudging her mount skyward again.

  As they ascend Octavia is amazed to see not only her fleet, but the Perscesian legionnaires dipping down to aid their flailing allies. The soldier behind her shudders as he glimpses the dead bodies of Vacantian and Shroudanian soldiers and that of Cygni’s men floating on the surface of the newly formed waterways.

  Chapter 26

  Andromeda

  The cocky grin drops from Andromeda’s lips as she takes in the scene before her. Fanning out on either side of Lyra’s throne are twelve hulking Shroudanian soldiers each with a wicked looking blade held to the throat of a quivering man or woman. Most, Andromeda realizes, must be chambermaids and other palace servants but her stomach drops as the soldiers nearest to Lyra reveal their prisoners to be Midge and their father Grus.

  “Don’t move an inch,” Lyra smirks though it’s evident she’s inviting Andromeda to do just that. “Alem’s soldiers have orders to kill these pathetic peasants if you take even a single step toward us.”

  “Let them go,” Andromeda growls as she takes in the mangled ruins of her sister’s once beautiful face. “This is between you and me.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong, Andromeda.” Lyra drums her fingers absently on the armrest of the throne. “This is about the oppression of my people at the hands of the three kingdoms who drove us into hiding. It’s about retribution and revenge.”

  “Oppression? Really?” Andromeda scoffs and rolls her eyes. “You’ve got to be kidding me. You, who have further perpetuated the hatred and persecution of the Perscesian people to cover up the fact that you stole me away from my people to prevent your husband from finding out just how much of a lying, manipulative harlot you are.”

  “The Waterborn peoples from which I come walked these lands long before the first of your tainted people took their first breath, before the traitorous god Zarouk turned his back on us and had us hunted down like animals by his newly favored powerless landborn.” Lyra snarls as she rises slowly from her throne. “My people will win this war and retake their rightful place as rulers of this world and enslave all those who have kept us in hiding for centuries once and for all. I will bow to no one, defer to no one,” Andromeda stares in paralyzing horror as Lyra draws a thin blade from the sleeve of her gown and grabs the Shroudanian king by the shoulder hauling him toward her.

  Before the king or his men or Andromeda and her people can react Lyra draws the blade across the Shroudanian king’s throat opening a thin gash across it like a smile sliding over the monarch’s tanned flesh.

  King Alem makes a short, hollow, strangled gasp as rivers of blood stream from the opening drenching his clothing and the sleeve of Lyra’s gown. Lyra loosens her grip from the King’s shoulder and allows him to sink to the ground with a wet plop.

  The shock and horror paralyzing King Alem’s men shatters all at once at seeing their King bleeding out across the shiny marble floor of Lyra’s throne room and they roughly shove away Lyra’s prisoners and exchange their short blades for broadswords as they charge toward Lyra.

  Unruffled, Lyra raises her right hand calmly and water begins to bleed from the Shroudanian soldiers’ eyes, mouths, and ears drowning the soldiers from the inside out. Turning on her prisoners she guides her hand in a semi-circle drowning each and every one until only Grus and Midge crouch petrified at Lyra’s side.

  “I thought we’d save the best for last.” Lyra laughs manically, her voice echoing off the stone walls.

  “Do you think you’re the only one who can bend elements to your will?” Andromeda growls as she stalks purposefully toward the monster she’d once thought was her flesh and blood.

  “No,” Lyra grins slowly, “I just know I’m better at it than you.”

  “We’ll see about that,” Andromeda retorts as she tosses aside her useless metal weapons and flicks her wrists out calling upon the water that resides inside her. Twin sabers of razor sharp beads of moisture snap heavily into her palms as she charges forward thankful to Daegan for teaching her the skill.

  Lyra raises her hand once more cocooning them in a column of water and throwing Grus, Midge, Daegan, and his crew up against the stone walls holding them in place with thick, braided ropes of seaweed. “Come get me, girl.”

  ❖

  Daegan

  Daegan’s head slams against the stone wall of the throne room cracking the wall and shooting daggers of pain through his skull as he helplessly watches Andromeda charge toward the usurper queen.

  He wiggles his shoulders trying to gain enough room between himself and the seaweed ropes binding him to the wall to allow him to shift into mist or water but it’s no use, the bonds are too strong.

  Through the column of water Daegan watches Andromeda swipe at Lyra with water forged blades. The blades glance off Lyra’s wrists as the usurper queen howls in pain infuriating her further as she uses her power to slam Andromeda up against the column of water.

  Andromeda tucks and spins out, dissipating into mist as she drapes herself like a fog bank over Lyra. Pinpricks of blood seep from Lyra’s face, hands, and stain the bodice of her gown as shards of ice protrude through her flesh like knives.

  In an instant Lyra reaches through Andromeda’s fog bank and sends her skittering across the marble floor while stalking toward her with a determined look on her face.

  This ebb and flow of back and forth attacks and counterattacks continues on as the sounds of grunts and hisses and rushing water drowns out the deathly quiet room. Those not already dead, Daegan included, watch on powerless to step in hoping and praying that their champion comes out the victor in the end.

  ❖

  Thane

  Andromeda and Octavia had told Thane to stay put. And he had tried. Really tried. But he wasn’t a weakling or a liability just because he’d been in the usurper queen’s dungeons less than twelve hours before.

  They’d left him weaponless in an effort to dissuade Thane from following them into battle but he knew he was sitting on a stockpile of weapons used by his Warriors. After waiting an excruciating but necessary amount of time Thane threw back the hatch leading down to the armory bunker and suited up.

  Even though each Warrior was fitted for custom combat gear and their aquaswift swords those items would be useless against non-Perscesian peoples without modification and for emergencies the Warriors housed regular grade swords, armor, axes, quivers and bows, and various other weaponry.

  Thane selected two curved swords which he slid into sheathes at his back and a set of daggers that he slid into his belt. He’d never been particularly skilled with the bow so he passed over them as he outfitted himself in arm guards, a metal chest plate, and protection for his legs. He grabbed a shield on his way out of the bunker and quickly tied his long mane of black hair away with a leather band.

  It didn’t take Thane long to reach Vanyia retracing the worn path from the forest that led to the main road. Stealth was not on his side once he reached the main road and he’d bristled at every sound convinced that Lyra’s troops would come upon him from behind. The city gate had been obliterated, shards of wood and metal hanging limply from the hinges the only reminder that there once had been something other than a gaping hole in the wall.

  Smoke rose in billowing plumes from the buildings ringing the outer edge of the city but the flames that had consumed them had been put out. Thane waded through waist deep water through which bloated corpses of Vacantian soldiers and Cygni’s allies floated. Was he too late? The city was eerily quiet. Thane had never seen Vanyia so still.

  The leathery flapping of wings drew Thane’s attention skyward. Hundreds of Starborn riders circled the city, their mounts shrieking birdlike cries that remind Thane of the greedy gulls that congregated at the coast.

  One rider spots him and dives down, kicking up a wind that nearly knocks Thane onto his back.

  “Get on,” the young rider yells
as she offers Thane her hand. It isn’t Octavia but the rider has the same fair features as she does and Thane feels suddenly chastised for being found out so soon.

  Hauling himself into the saddle behind the rider he holds onto her waist as she urges her mount to take to the skies again.

  “What happened? Am I too late?” Thane shouts over the sound of the wind.

  “Too late?” the rider turns her head slightly to shoot him a confused look.

  “I got separated from His Majesty’s company and have just arrived,” Thane lies smoothly. “Where are all the foot soldiers? Cygni and his men?”

  “Look around you,” the rider nods. “A great wave flooded the city. We and the Perscesian legionnaires have taken on as many soldiers as we can. Right now we’re just looking for any survivor’s we’ve missed.”

  Thane looks down, his stomach clenching at the aerial view of the drowned streets and bodies floating throughout. “Are we winning? Have we overthrow the usurper queen?”

  “It is unknown yet,” the rider shakes her head. “The Vacantian heir has not been recovered from the water nor is he among the dead. And the Perscesian Princess and a crew of about twenty men and women were last seen storming the palace. Nothing has been learned since. We have no choice but to wait.”

  ❖

  Lyra

  Lyra shrieks, her rage rattling the stone walls of the throne room as she lunges for Andromeda. She pulls the younger woman up by her thick braid and slashes her nails across her already scarred face opening old wounds and creating new ones.