Lightning and Flame

by V. S. Holmes

  Alea groaned. It felt wrong that Veredy had already been dead when Alea had borrowed her name for a night of drinking. “I can’t even imagine what he must be thinking.”

  “I imagine he must feel much like you did a year ago.” Bren eyes were sad and gentle. “I’m sorry he hasn’t seen you.”

  “It’s funny, he saw me as the Dhoah’ Laen when I was as far from that role as could be. Now, when that is all I am, he sees me as a woman. But part of me wonders if we’ll ever see on level. Will we always be in this dance? Me leaving when he’s arriving?” She shook her head.

  He frowned. “What happened in the Northlands? You left angry and cold and lost. You come back almost as changed as when you returned from Le’yan.”

  She looked down. “I thought I learned to control my power by learning there was no difference between it and myself. Trouble was I didn’t know who I was anymore. When you understand something, you can control it. I had to learn who I was, but even more I had to accept it. I can’t spend whatever is left of my life terrified of what I am.”

  He slid from his seat and wrapped his arms around her unceremoniously. “I love you. Whatever you are, whether you accept it or not, I love you.” He pulled away and met her eyes. “When do we leave?”

  “As soon as General Aneral says the army is ready.”

  “It’s been ready for the past two days. Waiting on you.”

  “I thought no one knew I was gone.”

  “They didn’t. I told them you were meditating on battle. You haven’t been the most sociable the past months, so it wasn’t odd that no one had seen you.”

  Alea glared at him. “I suppose you’re right.”

  Bren rose at Valadai’s knock and relayed Alea’s requests. “And if you could inform General Aneral that we’d like to speak with her at her earliest convenience.”

  Alea laughed. “I’m glad I had the forethought to bathe before coming to see you.”

  Eras arrived before both the food and the healer. Her brows shot up at Alea’s appearance. “I learned you went to Neneviir. What happened to your face? Did you slip on the ice?”

  “Yes, and they were caught me with their fists.” Alea grinned. “I had something I needed to get, and An’thoriend’s brother was kind enough to relinquish it to me.”

  Eras’s eyes darkened. “I wondered if An’thor was wrong in assuming they would be our allies.”

  “Edrodene explained that his brother seems to have caught the terrible human disease of optimism.”

  “He was always an ass.” Eras pointed to the chair across from Alea. “Brentemir, may I?” When he nodded, she sat, leaning her elbows on her knees. “What is your plan, Dhoah’?”

  “Battle. Within the week. How quickly can you mobilize the men?”

  “They can be ready at dawn the day after tomorrow.” She glanced at Bren. “And your men, are they ready to march?”

  “They arrived a few days after Alea left.” He glanced at his sister. “You should have seen it—I’ve never been more proud. And the Asai arrived shortly afterward.” His grin faded and he drew a long breath. “It’s been a while since I went into battle, and this one feels different.”

  Eras glanced up. “You, too?”

  Alea glanced between the two. She did not know what they felt, but she agreed everything about this battle tasted differently. There is certainty in me. Acceptance. The shadow had not lifted from her spirit, but its blanketing darkness had changed.

  Eras looked at her hands, clasped before her. “Dhoah’ we’re putting a lot of faith in you. This is just the beginning of your battle, but it is the greatest of Athrolan. You made a promise to Her Majesty, and to our people, that Athrolan will not fall. Are you still holding to that promise.”

  Alea wondered briefly what Daymir might have said. I am not so mighty as to keep a city from falling. She did not look away from the general’s grey eyes.”Athrolan will always stand.”

  Φ

  The 3rd Day of Valemord, 1252

  The Eastern Forest of Athrolan

  Alea noticed the men on the second day of the march. There were five. She began the journey among Indred’s men, but after the first day another group of soldiers formed around her. Narier was among them, but she recognized two others. One was a former guard at Daymir’s manor and the other she had tended during the siege. None ever spoke to her, but they were clearly a silent rotating guard. She discovered why on their third night after making camp.

  The nightmares from Cehn were now speckled with her days trapped in Neneviir. Between them, she woke, bedroll tangled and drenched in sweat. She tumbled off her cot, the images fading slowly from the backs of her eyelids. “Damn.”

  “Dhoah’, you all right?”

  Alea turned at the soft voice outside her tent. She rose and peered through the flap. A man stood just outside. She recognized him as one of the men she tended during the siege. “I’m fine, what are you doing?”

  “Just keeping an eye out, Dhoah’, nothing more.”

  “You don’t have to do that, there are plenty of eyes out tonight.”

  “Just the same, I’m here.” His smile was wary, but genuine.

  Her head still pounded and her limbs buzzed. “You were out here before?”

  “No, Dhoah’, Kal had last night and Narier the one before.”

  She frowned. She was tired and sorely needed sleep. The thought that these men had taken up her guard without question was uncomfortable. The fact that I can defend myself aside, this is ridiculous. She was about to tell the man so, when she caught sight of his face. “You guarded Daymir’s house.”

  “Yes. It’s Gord, Dhoah’.”

  “Thank you, then. Good night.” She ducked back into the tent and crawled into her bedroll. Her body ached, but her mind was whirling.

  Φ

  The 5th Day of Valemord, 1252

  Alea shrugged deeper into her cloak and wound her way through the tents until she found the campfire. Narier was alone at the fire, peering into the crackling heat with a vague frown.

  “Care for some tea?” Alea held up a tin from her pack and her tin mug.

  Narier shrugged. “Might as well.” He settled the kettle in the coals and pointed at the fading bruise lingering around her eye. “I see your journey was eventful.”

  “Rather. I got what I needed, though. Thank you for your help. Then and now.”

  He grinned. “Gord told me you caught him. Said he thought you were angry at first.”

  “At first I was. I’m capable of defending myself.”

  “We all know it, Alea. But you’re tired and worn and everyone can see it. You deserve to rest safely.”

  Her thanks were interrupted by the arrival of a younger man with thick curls. He froze, staring at the woman by his fire. “Fates.”

  She grinned and patted the ground beside her. “Come on. I won’t hurt you. If you insist on guarding me, the least I can do is share my tea.”

  The man edged over and carefully sat. “Right. Thank you, Dhoah’.”

  “I don’t recognize you,” she held out her arm. “What should I call you?”

  “I’m Kal Smytheson. I was friends with your guard for a time. Sousa, too.”

  Alea’s response was interrupted by the arrival of the other three.

  “And I told her, that’s exactly what your sister thought!”

  The men crowed with laughter and Kal glanced uneasily at Alea. “Sousa, knock it! We’ve got company.” He looked over apologetically. “Forgive them, Dhoah’ they didn’t know. They just returned from getting a bottle from the trail army.”

  Gord flushed, seeing Alea and stammered to a halt. “I’m sorry, Dhoah’, I didn’t see you.”

  She waved his apology away. Her time in Vielrona had not been ill spent, and she remembered most of Wes’s and Kam’s wicked humor. “Nonsense. I’ll tell you the one about the Berrin scout and the crow if you share a thumb of that wraith.”

  Narier snorted into his tea at the expressions on t
heir faces. “I doubt you’re what they expected, Alea.”

  Alea shrugged and smiled at the three still standing. “Come and sit. You with the dark hair must be Sousa, and Gord I know.” She held her arm out to the third man. She recognized his face, but could not place where from. “How do I know you?”

  “I’m Henack, Dhoah’, and you healed me during the siege.”

  “You were the first man I cared for there. You had an arrow in your thigh.”

  He smiled. “Yes. You promised it would not rot.” He patted the healed limb. “Now I believe it works better than the other.”

  She laughed and sidled over. “Sit down so I don’t have to hurt my neck talking to you. Would you like some tea before it chills?”

  Φ

  The 7th Day of Valemord, 1252

  The City of Ceir Athrolan

  Tzatia’s mind was as restless as her body was tense. Her forefathers faced onslaughts, not the least of which brought Claimiirn to her knees. They handled them with might and grace and no small amount of retaliation. And I have proven myself weak and fearful these past months. Even at her busiest, her thoughts would turn abruptly to Daymir. With distance, she realized that disinheriting the man might have been brash. The queen was nothing, if not stubborn, however.

  She scarcely could sit through her corset lacing without pacing. Now she sat in her parlor listening to the details of the army that would crush her city. The corporal across from her looked as grim as she imagined herself. “Tell me when.”

  “A couple of hours, maybe.”

  “And you are from the siege at Ceir Felden?”

  “I am. It broke several days ago. They left in the dark, and the weather was such we saw nothing but their campfires. They left them burning, to fool us. We didn’t know they’d gone until morning.”

  “And you’re certain they are coming here?”

  “I got here scarcely before them.”

  “Thank you for your dedication, corporal. Go to your barracks, eat and rest.”

  She was silent for a full minute before she turned to the steward. “Valadai, sound the alarm. Athrolan is under attack.” The guards flanking the door snapped to attention as she swept through the door of the throne room. “Leave me!”

  She approached the throne when the guards had left. She knelt before it, lacing her shaking hands on her skirts. She knew it was impossible, but she thought she could already hear the enemy hooves. She had not prayed in years, not since the war on the gods began. She missed the comfort it had given her. Now she just thought on her father. “Though I’ve fallen many a time, I rose on my own. I tried to carry the land as you and grandfather, but I’m faltering now. She promised to keep our crown from shattering, and I pray she succeeds, for I no longer can.”

  The door behind her creaked and she whirled, ready to reprimand the guards for interrupting her. The words stalled in her mouth at the sight of the figures in the doorway.

  At first, Tzatia thought they were some noble women coming to shelter from the battle to come, but a tingle threaded its way up her spine. She rose, head tilting curiously. They wore grey dresses and their hair ranged from black to cloudy grey. The woman at their fore stepped closer. Her eyes, like the others’, were dull silver. “Lady queen, we come to offer our protecting.”

  Tzatia frowned. “Who are you?”

  “Your people fight for my daughter, we’ll fight for you.”

  Tzatia’s legs gave way, but the woman caught her elbows. “You’re the Laen.”

  The woman nodded. “I’m Elle. These are my sisters, those that would come.”

  Tzatia collected herself and straightened. “What do you need?”

  Elle grinned, and the wolfish gleam in her eyes was suddenly Alea’s. “Show us to your ramparts.”

  Φ

  The 6th Day of Valemord, 1252

  The Athrolani Camp at Claimiirn

  Alea stood on the cliff tops, watching the Miriken below. Anxious thoughts urged the soldier’s boots faster. A journey that should have taken over a week had taken only six days. She was among the first to arrive and for the next two hours the army trickled into camp. The sound of hammering tent poles and barked orders faded from her mind as she stared at their enemy. Their arrival had not gone unnoticed and she took dark pleasure in watching the hurried squires and knights sending word. You’d better be afraid, Azirik. I’ll be the death of you.

  “Alea, the general is calling us together.” Bren’s voice arched over the tents. After a last look at the camp below, she turned and followed him to the officers’ camp.

  The officers crowded into Eras’s tent. The press of armor and road sweat was cloying but familiar. A captain unrolled a map of the plains and cliffs. “We’ve got an idea of the terrain and their locations. Azirik appears to have most if not all of his troops—roughly two thousand two hundred. Most are cavalry.”

  “And the Berrin are down there as well, but they’re camped behind the ruins.” Alea pointed to the place where she had seen the Berrin forces.”

  “Are there caves in these rocks?” Bren pointed to their path down to what would be a battle field within a day.

  Eras shook her head. “That rock is hard. If there are any they are infrequent and small.”

  “It’s difficult to say what Azirik will do.” Alea said. “It’s safe to assume he will not engage in direct combat, but he will use the gods’ power to attack. I cannot say whether he will attack me or the men.”

  Vinden glanced at her and another man shifted angrily. “Dhoah’, is there danger the soldiers should be warned of?”

  Alea barely kept the impatience from her face. She was ready to face Azirik now, and the plans were only muddling her thoughts. “I thought soldiers knew battle was dangerous.”

  “Dhoah’,“ The general’s warning was low but pointed.

  “The men will be protected.” She only partially listened to the rest of the plans. They would undoubtedly change as Azirik and the Berrin responded. The army was divided into three, Bren leading the various allied troops of Banis, Asai and Miriken, Eras and Raven leading the others. As orders were given the men filed out until only Bren and Alea remained with the colonels, commander and Eras.

  The general turned to Alea. “Where will you be?”

  “I need a clear view, above the fray.”

  “The old Claimiirni battlements should do nicely. I’ll dispatch a detail of guards for you as well.”

  “With respect, general, I already seem to have acquired some guards. Perhaps you might consider them.”

  “I’ll look into it. Is there anything else we need to know?”

  “Tomorrow, before the charge, I need to see the men. All of them.” She glanced up at Eras. “I’ll lay protections over them, shielding them from what I’ll do. Once my power rises they’ll need to be still.” She looked over at Bren. “You remember the training court?”

  Her brother shuddered. “I wish I didn’t. It gave me nightmares, you know.”

  Eras’s stoic expression tightened. “Perhaps you could enlighten us, Lord Commissioner?”

  “I need you to pass this through to every man under your command. When you give the signal everyone is to drop to the ground. If you are mounted, get off. You will want to run, to scream, but stay down, no matter what you see.”

  One of the colonels frowned. “That’s it, drop our weapon and take a knee?”

  “Only an idiot would drop their weapon,” Raven interjected.

  Eras ignored them. “Drop and hold and pray to whatever still listens that we live?”

  Alea cleared her throat. “I’m still listening, general. Your men will be fine.”

  “And the signal?” Raven’s frown was deep enough to swallow his eyes. “Will we hear it?”

  Bren grinned and looked at his sister. “It’s her name, and I promise you’ll hear it.”

  Φ

  Bren joined Alea and her guards that night. His reception was better than Alea’s had been while on the road, but p
erhaps it was due to the mound of smoked meat and wraith he brought to share. The meat sizzled over the fire as Bren warmed it. He glanced over at Narier. “The Miriken have a tradition before battle—singing and dancing and drinking. I brought my flute. Would you mind a few songs?”

  Narier grinned. “It’s not like they don’t know we’re here. Let’s make them think we don’t give a damn about tomorrow.”

  Sousa let out his characteristic crowing.

  They took turns eating and suggesting songs. After a few, Narier joined Bren’s playing with his low, scratching voice. There were drinking songs and war ballads. “Alea, you know any Sunamen war songs?”

  “I know many, though they’re not Sunamen. I refuse to sing them—I’ll send you running to Azirik for protection if I raise my voice.” Finally Bren’s insistence won out and she began clapping against her leg. “It’s Athrolani, so if you know other verses I beg you join in.” She hummed a few lines for Bren to copy the notes, though her lack of tune made for a rocky start.

  “Well, this is war and I’ll probably die

  Yes this is the end it seems

  But, eh, won’t you tell me if I’m wrong

  Please tell me what we’ll be?”

  Narier laughed. “It’s an echo song. One of my favorites. We sing back and forth.

  “Hey, it’s Spring in the thick dark wood

  But no wife you’ll find for thee

  Oh, it’s Summer on the cobbled streets

  But no babe she’ll carry for thee.”

  Alea whooped, and Sousa joined her next verse,

  “Death’s a bastard by three and a right boor at that

  And we’ll never be his, you’ll see,

  But this is war and we’ll probably die

  So let’s drink to our bitter end.”

  The lines came faster, the singer alternating with each one. Henack rose and pulled Alea to her feet, spinning around the fire as they shouted the words back and forth.

  “You’ll have a limp and a scar down your face.”

  “Well, you’ll be fat if battle don’t take you!”

  “I’ll stand tall with my men and sing with the horn.”