by Paris Hansch
“We’ll be able to lead them,” said General Ban. “I can’t do this without you, Father.”
“That’s the spirit,” cried Councilor Raoul. “We haven’t exhausted our resources for nothing.”
Ryuko nodded. “Lord Tamar likes to hold grudges. After our little visit, there’s only one choice.”
“Nor is there any guarantee your people would be safe under his rule,” said Sara. “Father would say it’s better to die fighting.”
“I agree,” said Kakeru. “Though I don’t plan on dying.” Cynric nodded in agreement.
Alexander looked to his siblings. Adelia seemed deep in thought, and Anton was leaning with his arms crossed against the table. Neither seemed like they were going to offer their opinion.
The doors to the hall were suddenly pushed open, and a man ran toward them at great speed—at least, for him. Dale stumbled forward, leaning on his knees and gasping for air. His hair was receding in a circular shape on top, while the remaining strands attempted to cover his balding head.
Alexander closed his eyes. “Oh, no,” he muttered. As Councilor Dallan’s eldest son, Alexander had been forced to give the bumbling idiot a job that seemed important, without actually being too important.
“Milord!” Dale cried a little too loud, and Alexander wiped a fleck of spit from his face.
Dale wiped his brow and flicked his damp fringe to the side, taking a dramatic pause. “You wouldn’t believe the things I’ve seen! When I left my house in the morning four days ago, right after the rooster crowed—you know, that brown one with a slight limp—I forgot to bring my lunch of roast beef pie and berry pudding for dessert that Mother made me—she’s a fantastic cook, I must bring you her food someday—anyway, I was gallantly scouting the area, as is my humbly bestowed duty, and lo and behold—it must have been fate—I found a bush with some delicious-looking red berries on it!”
He spoke so fast that Alexander could barely get a word in.
“Dale—”
“I was so looking forward to the berry pudding, but I thought these would have to do, instead, so I picked a dozen—or maybe it was only half a dozen and some smaller, unripe ones—anyway, I ate them all, and they tasted nothing like pudding, but the red juice stained my new leather pouch, which Mother had just sewn for me, and, oh, I couldn’t bring it home looking like that. So, I went to the river and washed it, but to make matters worse, the berries made me sick!”
“Dale—”
“I cannot stress enough not to eat those berries, especially the red ones, for though they may look like the ones you put in pudding, they are most certainly nothing of the sort, and I spent at least half an hour squatting in the bushes doing—”
“Dale!” Alexander shook him by the shoulders. “Get to the point!”
Dale blinked in surprise. “Of course, Milord. I was getting to that, but then, I remembered that Mother always packs some stomach medicine in my pouch for emergencies, and I thought this was truly an emergency of extreme proportions, and luckily, I was already near the river, so I could wash it down with something. While I was there, I courageously snuck close to enemy territory to spy on those despicable Lanadese—Mother always says it isn’t the soldiers who are the bravest but the scouts—you know, I risked my neck for you, all by myself, to get this valuable information. Where would you be without me, I do say…”
“Closer to solving our problems,” Alexander muttered, counting to ten. It was no wonder no one would partner with him. The general even sent him on the farthest missions available, probably hoping he’d get heroically killed, no doubt. Councilor’s son or not, Alexander was about ready to throw him out.
“And so, an army of Lanadese will reach our northern border by dawn!”
Alexander spluttered. “What?”
“That concludes my report, Milord. I’ll be off now. Mother made her famous stew for dinner, and I think there’s pudding.” Dale bowed and trotted off even quicker than he’d arrived.
Alexander’s mouth was dry. They were marching already, even after the blow they’d dealt them when they rescued Hanabi? His mind raced over the logistics. They were already crossing around the river to the northern border, so they’d have to come through the pass and along the Plains of Scoria, then through the Celestine Forest, before getting to the city. That would give them more time to prepare, but Anadrieth wasn’t a fortress.
“We can’t fight near the city,” said Councilor Raoul, like he’d read his mind. “Our assets would be under threat, and there are too many civilians. We’d have an advantage in the Celestine Forest.”
“Not against Calverans,” said Cynric.
Sara shrugged. “Who knows if they’ll even show up.”
“It’s likely, given the alliance,” said Kakeru. “If I were them, sending an overwhelming number of men would decrease their casualties and secure their victory.”
“What about the Plains of Scoria?” said Adelia. Her voice was surprisingly strong, given how weak she looked. “Ride out to meet them there.”
“No one goes there,” said Barrett, shaking his head. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
“There’s only one entrance, so they have to come through the pass, and we’d be certain to catch any ambushes,” she said adamantly.
Alexander frowned. “It’s a death trap...” Even though it was part of his territory, it was a barren wasteland, dotted with pits of inescapable black tar and geysers that erupted in boiling steam. It was difficult enough for a small party to navigate the terrain, much less an entire army, but it was the only way to travel north.
Councilor Raoul scratched his chins. “They should be forced to cross it before reaching us. It would give us more time.”
“But then, they’d have enough time to be careful, and we’d have our backs to the wall,” insisted Adelia. “If we fight here, they have even more of an advantage on us. Out there, they have a disadvantage. We’re used to fighting in the snow, where the ground is unstable, just like the plains. Although it’s hot out there, I feel that the Lanadese would find the terrain difficult. Same with the Calverans, since the plains are flat. It’s the only position where we might be able to stand a chance.”
“If we’re ready for them, it might work,” said Ryuko. “We could even set some traps.”
Kakeru rubbed his temple thoughtfully. “It’s not a bad idea.”
Sara nodded. “We don’t have a lot of options.”
Alexander rested his hand on his sword. There hadn’t been a war in over two thousand years, but no one was more knowledgeable on such a topic than his sister. He met her gaze, nodding. It was time to put an end to this.
“Then, it’s settled. Prepare every able-bodied man in Anadrieth to march to the plains at sundown. At dawn, we fight.”
22
Chapter Twenty-Two
Adelia
Adelia stared down at her body, trying to force it to move through sheer willpower. Unsurprisingly, it didn’t work. The room was spinning, and she was unable to keep her eyes fully open. Her pendant was almost humming against her skin, and she didn’t have to use her spirit sight to feel it. There were too many people in the room, and their emotions were wrapping around her in confusing waves. She could barely manage to grip the armrests to stay upright in her chair, but she wasn’t about to fall over—not now. She had to keep it together, as any proper lady would.
“I’ve been training the men in a technique to counter the Calveran’s spears with the assistance of Cynric,” said General Ban. “And I’ve given our most elite the handful of Lanadese axes we retrieved. There are quite a few men now who have picked up additional skills from the servants, like rudimentary field first aid, and I’ve already reorganized the squadrons to spread them out. They’ve even worked together to identify the best natural poison we have, and we’ve coated silverlight caltrops with it.” He put his hands up. “As far as our information goes, we’ve done all we can, training-wise.”
“Plus,” said Councilor Raoul, sticki
ng up a hefty finger, “the large delivery of silverlight we received from our woodworkers was also distributed. We gave the swords to the household, as Lady Adelia suggested, but we are also fully stocked on small projectiles. The Lanadese won’t know what hit them.”
“The crowcodile trainers are ready for combat, too,” said Barrett. “We can station them in the back of the western squad closest to the Celestine Forest to assist the cavalry. Between them, we should be able to break their frontlines. The main problem will be that our infantry is significantly weaker than theirs.”
Adelia found a moment of clarity in her nausea. “Magnalite,” she managed. “And oil. There’s a tactic we can use to control the battlefield, especially on the plains.” Now, she had everyone’s attention. “The plains are structurally unstable, the tar pits are hot and the geysers spout boiling steam. But it’s also highly flammable. Lanadrin doesn’t have a high focus of archers, as they prefer the honor of hand-to-hand combat—but we do.”
“We took out a significant portion of his archers on our mission, as well,” said Alexander.
Adelia nodded. “So, if we coordinate it right, we can use flaming arrows wrapped with oil-soaked fibers to light up the battlefield and create barriers from fire.”
Barrett gave her a look, and she could feel his spark of respect, which came as a surprise to both of them.
“Not a bad strategy. I think we can handle that. We’ll be able to split up their lines and cut off portions of their troops. But what did you want to do with magnalite? We had a delivery come in from the Jade Mountain miners, though it’s in storage.”
“Magnalite reacts with fire to create a blinding light, and if the molten metal touches your skin, it’s impossible to get off,” said Adelia. “I thought we could somehow use it as a projectile.”
“I’m impressed that you know your alchemy, Adelia,” said Sara. She pulled out a few vials of shimmering metal from her bag. “But magnalite is volatile to the user, as well. It’s an instant reaction. I only use it as a last resort because I can control the flames and where it lands.”
“Perhaps this is a last resort,” Adelia replied. “It could be thrown in a sling or something, and there’ll be plenty of fire around. No matter how tough the Lanadese are, if you get molten magnalite burning on your face, you’re as good as dead.”
General Ban jotted something down on a piece of parchment. “I’ll include it in the preparations. You’re right, my lady. If we have it, we should use it.”
Alexander nodded at Sara. “Speaking of alchemy, can you make more of those things we used in Lanadrin?”
Sara rubbed her lip. “I already used up the last of the explosives. It will take time to make more, and I don’t have the resources.”
“What do you need?” asked Councilor Raoul.
“Liquid nitren.”
Councilor Raoul tapped the table. “We’ve got perhaps a few flasks worth, but it will be impossible to get more on such short notice.”
“We wouldn’t need a lot,” said Adelia. “If we can get someone to scout ahead and strategically plant them in some of the bigger tar pits, we could have a large-scale attack at our fingertips.”
“The fire would cause devastation at that point,” said Barrett. “This would have to be one of our first moves so that we aren’t caught in the explosions.”
Kakeru scratched his head. “You do all understand how unstable the plains will become with all of this firepower? We’ll probably end up with unplanned explosions all over the place.”
“It’s better that everyone is disadvantaged than to just wait to be slaughtered,” said Adelia, turning to face him.
“You have... earth spirit arts, right?” asked Alexander. “Can you stabilize our side and destabilize theirs?”
“I can, to a degree. However,” Kakeru gave each of them a hard stare in turn. “This is a battle of attrition. We cannot use our spirit arts recklessly, or we’ll end up unable to fight at all. Remember, we don’t know when Calvera will be joining the battle, but we can assume they’ll want to strike when we are worn out. So, save your strength for when you have no other choice. And don’t even think about using yours.” He nodded at Alexander. “There simply isn’t enough time to train you. If you fall, the chain of command collapses.”
The table fell silent. It made sense, especially given her current state. But if they couldn’t use their spirit arts, what else were they supposed to do? Adelia racked her brain for ideas, but none came. They could employ as many tactics as they could manage, but in the end, they would only be delaying the inevitable. There were simply too many of them. But there was one thing they had yet to address.
“Hanabi,” she said. “What’s your role in this? Mina said that you were the key to ending the war.”
Hanabi sighed. “I’ll be on the battlefield, but there’s little I can do. I’m honestly not sure what Mina meant. There’s a very specific circumstance in which I could act, but it would be nothing short of a catastrophe.” Her gaze pierced Adelia for a moment. “And remember, a priestess’ vow is to never bring harm to another living being.”
Adelia shot a glance at Ryuko, who rolled his eyes. Her definition of harm seemed somewhat gray. Hanabi hid her emotions well, but Adelia could tell that she was nervous. There was something she wasn’t telling them.
“We’ll do whatever we can, then.” Alexander gave the imperial salute. “I thank you all, on behalf of Anadrieth, for your service. Let’s get moving.”
Everyone except for her stood, returning the salute. They all scattered in different directions to carry out the orders, leaving Adelia to sit awkwardly at the table. She felt what was left of her strength drain away with them. She may have helped during the meeting, but she would be useless to help any further. It wasn’t as though she couldn’t feel her body or move her legs; it was more like her body was made of stonewood—heavy and useless. No matter how hard she tried, she could only muster so much strength.
Alexander approached her, his hand around Scarlet’s shoulder. There was a closeness between them that she suddenly resented. She’d spent more time with Scarlet than he had, yet she could feel a bond between the pair that she simply didn’t have—with either of them.
“I’d like Scarlet to remain with you, Adelia. No matter how useful her abilities might be, no child needs to see the horrors of war.”
Adelia eyed them. “And is that her choice or yours?”
“Mine,” said Scarlet, a slight tremble in her tone.
Adelia’s expression softened. “All right.” She didn’t need her spirit arts to know that the girl was afraid.
Her brother turned, then looked back at her for a moment. “And Adelia?” He paused, and she could see him wrestling with everything he wanted to say, could feel his heart quicken. “Thank you. For everything.” He shuffled off quickly, leaving Scarlet by her side.
It wasn’t much, but it was something. But if it would ever be like it was before, they would all have to start over. And given the stubbornness of all three of them, that probably wasn’t going to happen.
Adelia grimaced. She wasn’t going to be able to get up, let alone leave the room. She bit her tongue and glanced at Cynric, who was the only one left at the table, scribbling away in his notebook.
“Cynric, could you...”
He didn’t respond for a moment. As he jotted down the last word, he slipped his notebook and glasses in his pouch and nodded at her, reaching down to scoop her up. Scarlet trotted along beside them.
Adelia clenched her teeth. She didn’t even have the strength to loop her arms around his neck. She was the epitome of helplessness, and she hated it. The most she could do was tuck in her skirts so that they wouldn’t accidentally show her legs. People stared at her, and she could feel their apprehension and pity. The scenery passed by them, and she tried to take a good look, since she would probably be confined to her room for the rest of her miserable life. When he brought her back to the infirmary, however, she frowned.
“You should be around people. And you can see outside,” Cynric said, opening the window for her and propping up her pillows.
Adelia laid back, somewhat uncomfortably. The sickening smell of herbs and ointments filled her nose, and she could detect an underlying hint of blood in the air. She was surrounded by the groans of the wounded, the grave whispers of the nurses and the tossing and turning of those unable to find sleep.
Perhaps this is how the dysconae felt—trapped in a bed, a prisoner in their own skin. No brave prince was coming to rescue her now. And even if he did, he wouldn’t want what he saw. She closed her eyes. Even thinking was exhausting. But she couldn’t just fall asleep while everyone around her was working.
Adelia pulled herself into a more upright position and looked outside. Soldiers and servants scurried around, while others shouted orders. It looked hopelessly unorganized. The more she stared at them, the more her heart rate picked up. Her pendant glowed ever so slightly as the adrenaline flooded through her, and she felt like she was alongside them. They were terrified, as they should be, and she had to pull back. She imagined herself wrapped in a warm cocoon that drowned out everything else.
Breathe. Focus.
Slowly, she was able to calm her nerves and center her mind. Everything was so much more vivid now, and it was difficult to focus on herself.
“Adelia?”
She glanced up. Scarlet was perched on the edge of her bed, and she could feel the girl’s heart fluttering. She was just as nervous and uncertain as the rest of them. Scarlet reminded her of her brothers—earnest and brave like Anton, yet headstrong and mature beyond her years like Alexander. Perhaps the two girls could help each other take their minds off of everything.
“Why don’t you run along to my room and grab some books? We can spend a little girl time together.”