“Where did you learn that name?” she asked.
“From the One-Eyed Dragon,” Garda said. “And by the looks of it, he had you dead to rights.”
All emotion had slipped from the archpriestess’s face. Until a few seconds ago, Garda had at least believed she possessed some humanity, but he had been dreadfully mistaken. She had nothing of the sort. Might enough to warp the air swirled around her. Power enough to bend space swelled within her. To stand against her was to face something so utterly alien, it was hard not to feel awe.
Yet Garda was a veteran of countless battlefields, and he refused to be intimidated. He stood nonchalantly, voice defiant, asserting by his bearing that he still held the upper hand. “Do you hate your own name that much?”
“Oh, yes. I quite despise it.” A shadow had crept over the archpriestess’s brow, and her expression was no longer visible.
Cling. Bells rang again, louder this time. Loud enough to shake the world.
“Then perhaps you would prefer another,” Garda said, raising his voice to drown out the din. He swept his greatsword out to the side and surged forward. “Perhaps I should call you Nameless!”
The greatsword swung down, cleaving the ground like a knife through butter. A plume of dirt rose into the air, turning the clearing into a murky haze. Garda strained his senses to find his foe. A shadow caught his eye, and he thrust out his blade with lightning speed, only to scowl as the sword cut through air.
He stalked through the murk, sliding his feet cautiously across the earth, alert for wherever his prey might be hiding. He swung at any hint of her presence. The glowing manastone in his forehead endowed his already muscular body with destructive strength. Mana radiated from his skin, withering the flowers around him.
“Accursed tricks,” he growled.
None of his swings found their mark. It did not take him long to realize there was something more than bad luck at work. He took one step, five, ten, exiting the cloud of dust with explosive speed. Several new pursuers followed close on his tail. They all felt like Nameless.
Garda came to a halt, counting the figures converging around him. He slammed an open hand down onto the ground. As the manastone in his forehead began to glow, he balled his other hand into a fist and slammed it against the earth. His mana, formerly a diffuse aura, concentrated into a single point and exploded outward. Clods of earth flew high. As they came apart in midair, raining down dirt, a gust of wind swept the haze away, whipping through the trees before returning to the sky. The forest came back into view.
“Now where have you gone?” Garda muttered.
He sensed no one about, but he knew his foe was not dead. There was no sign of a body. He peered about suspiciously, as if trying to see through a glamor. All of a sudden, an immense presence flared into being behind him. As soon as he sensed it, he spun, twisting his body with all his strength to bring his greatsword around in a horizontal sweep.
A melodic voice tickled his eardrums. “Too slow, I fear.”
Cling. With a tinkle of bells, a sharp impact blasted through his torso.
“Ngh!”
Garda’s body tumbled across the ground as though he had been caught in a wave. He crashed into the treeline and came to a stop, wreathed in grit and dirt.
“Curse you...”
He clenched his teeth against the pain, wiping a trickle of blood from the corner of his mouth, and planted a fist on the ground. As he forced himself to his feet, he sensed countless enemies approaching from all around and took off into the forest.
“How disappointing. All that talk, only to run?”
One Nameless appeared before him, blocking his path. Another closed in from behind. He looked around. Copies of her surrounded him on all sides, radiating hostility. They cut off every avenue of escape.
“It’s a strange Graal you use.” He spat a gobbet of blood onto the ground and grinned. A sword stroke cut down the Nameless before him, but it was like cutting air. He gave a crooked smile. “Should’ve known ordinary steel would do little to a Dharmic Blade.”
“Why did you choose this fight if you knew you could not win?”
Garda peered at the approaching Namelesses, trying to discern which was real, but the copies were so precise as to be indistinguishable from the real thing.
“I suppose I wanted to see for myself the truth of the One-Eyed Dragon’s words.”
“You would throw away your life for that? You are more foolish than I gave you credit for.”
“Perhaps. But I had to do it if we were to fight on the same side.”
One could not build trust on a foundation of suspicion. Now that doubt had been sown in Garda’s mind, his only recourse had been to prove it was unfounded. It was unfortunate that he had unearthed a formidable foe in the process, but he had known the risk he was taking.
“Besides,” he continued, “someone had to keep you occupied.”
“Indeed.” Nameless gave a hopeless shrug. She understood immediately what he meant. “How very heroic of you to volunteer.”
Many of Garda’s men remained in Baum, and he had needed to buy them time to run. No doubt they were fleeing Natua even now. Admittedly, he had not accounted for Nameless’s powers—she could sense them and pursue them to the ends of Aletia. Still, the odds that she would go after them were low. She would learn nothing from hunting down low-ranking soldiers. It would be more trouble than it was worth.
Garda clapped a hand to his neck. “Seems I’ve no more reason to stay.”
His eyes darted rapidly between the Nameless clones. Each of them stood with a dagger in their right hand and a bell staff in their left. Their faces were identical, all equally emotionless, more doll than living being. They moved in eerie unison.
“So you mean to run?” The Namelesses grew closer, feet gliding across the ground.
Garda thrust his greatsword into the earth and spread his arms wide. “Hah. I mean to fight!”
Light spilled from the zlosta’s forehead. Mana raged through the air. He focused it all in his hands, crouched low, and drove both palms down into the earth.
All at once, the world turned upside down. The ground bulged and erupted. Great fissures spread wide, swallowing the Namelesses. Those who managed to leap to safety were consumed by walls of earth that rose skyward. Even so, they kept coming. New clones spawned with every passing second.
Garda withdrew his greatsword from the ground and bounded forward with explosive speed, mowing them down with the weighty blade. Innumerable clones converged on him. Each was weak individually—perhaps a limitation of the Dharmic Blade, perhaps of Nameless herself—but the endless onslaught sapped his strength. His movements grew slower. Countless wounds opened up all across his body. Even so, he did not stop. He swung, twisted, spun, turned, spraying blood with every motion as he fended off the assault.
Yet he could not hold out forever. The Namelesses swarmed him like ants on fresh meat, intent on eating him alive. At last, his colossal body began to fail. He dug in his heels and kept standing, but he had little strength left to fight.
He grunted. “A formidable opponent indeed.”
His armor was crumpled and dented. Blood flowed from the gaps where Nameless’s daggers had pierced it, soaking the ground beneath his feet. His hair was bedraggled, his face was bloodless, and the manastone in his forehead was beginning to dim. He withdrew a dagger lodged in his armor and heaved a sigh, watching as the empty-eyed clones closed in.
“One I could not best, it seems.”
As Garda’s shoulders slumped in resignation, a slender leg caught him in the abdomen. He flew through the air with incredible force, trailing a cloud of dust, until finally he crashed into a tree trunk.
Nameless stepped closer, gazing coldly down at him. “Then your show of defiance is done?” Her face was expressionless as ever, and it showed no hint of exhaustion.
No getting the best of this one, Garda thought. He coughed up blood and grinned ruefully.
“Did Lord Surtr order you to throw your life away?” Nameless asked.
Garda’s men had already left Natua. Had he chosen to flee, he would have had a better chance of survival.
“Hah. He told me to run.”
Hiro had instructed him not to fight her under any circumstances. Even a pureblood zlosta would not stand a chance against a Noble Blade, he had said—at least, not without a Fellblade. Yet Garda had chosen to fight anyway.
Nameless’s brows knitted quizzically. “Then why, pray tell, did you not listen?”
The corners of Garda’s eyes crinkled as he turned an empty gaze to the sky. The reason was simple, but not one she would ever understand. “As I said. I doubted him when I should not have.”
When Hiro had revealed the truth, Garda had wondered if it was wise to believe him, and upon hearing what Hiro intended, he had been stricken with unease—a distrust that he had failed to shake.
“But he was no liar. Only a fool.”
All along, Hiro had been nothing but maddeningly earnest, so much so that it was impossible not to feel affection. Even if nobody else understood him, even if nobody would ever sympathize with him, he would walk the path he believed was right. How wrong it had been, Garda thought, to doubt such purity of purpose.
The zlosta grinned. “This is my penance.”
He had owed Hiro a great debt—both for saving Mille and for concealing his identity as a pureblood zlosta—and yet he had repaid that debt with disloyalty. If he died here, at least he would do so having wiped the slate clean.
“Is that so? Then allow me to mete out your sentence.”
The clones stepped closer, their footsteps soft on the ground. A dull gleam ran the length of their daggers as the blades shifted in their hands. Garda closed his eyes and waited for death.
“Farewell, Lord Garda.” There was not a hint of mercy in her voice. There was no emotion in it at all.
Blades descended on him from all sides. He had no means of fighting back. In that moment, both combatants understood the battle was over. And yet the end did not come. The daggers halted before they pierced his skin.
The clones had stopped. Surprise colored their faces. Where before nothing had stood between them and Garda, a sword now protruded from the earth.
“An intruder?”
The Namelesses leaped back in clear confusion, looking around. Their countless eyes converged on the same spot. Remnants of their fight littered the forest, but high above the battle-scarred clearing, the moon cast its light through a gap in the clouds—and there stood a proud wolf, white pelt gleaming in the silver glow.
Garda stared too, just as surprised. “Cerberus?” he whispered. The wolf looked like the one he knew, but she felt like an entirely different beast.
Nameless’s shock, however, soon faded into seeming comprehension. “Of course,” she murmured. “I did wonder where you had hidden yourself. I confess, I never imagined you might reduce yourself to a lowly beast. Is your loyalty so great that you would cast aside your dignity?”
She narrowed her eyes, wary at the appearance of this new foe. She seemed far less at ease than while fighting Garda. Her words were still goading, but they had lost their edge. Distaste flickered in her eyes as she stared the wolf down.
“To think one of the War God’s own Black Hand would sully their honor for the love of their master.” She clutched her bell staff tight, making no attempt to disguise her scorn. Her voice took on a vicious edge. “A shame, is it not, Lady Meteia?”
The wolf stared back, unblinking.
＊＊＊＊＊
A mounted host thundered along the roads of Greif, the drumming of their horseshoes ringing loud in the dark. The ill-omened rumble sent townsfolk scurrying from their beds to light up bonfires, but the armed force paid the settlements no mind, passing by as if scoffing at their fears. Their banners bore the serpent of Anguis.
A four-horse carriage led the column, wheels bouncing as it raced along the road at a remarkable speed. Hiro sat inside, accompanied by Lucia, who had come to meet him en route from the imperial camp. They faced each other, negotiating the cabin’s violent shaking.
Lucia spoke first, frowning a little at the screaming of the wheels. “Greif has fortified itself, ’twould seem.”
“Do they suspect what we’re up to?”
“No. They are not aware we are here.”
“Then they’re just afraid of the empire?”
“Indeed. We crossed the border easily enough, did we not?”
Lucia and her two thousand soldiers had passed the checkpoint between Greif and Anguis without arousing any suspicion. That said, it hadn’t been much of a checkpoint. With Grief and Anguis being such longtime allies, it had barely been manned.
“General Ramses takes the position that the other kingdoms may come and go as they please,” Lucia continued. “He will let most anyone in so long as he believes they are there to lend their aid.”
“Is he competent?”
“Very much so. He manages Greif’s military affairs by himself, more or less. A warrior among warriors, the people call him—a veritable paragon respected by soldiery and commonfolk alike. Yet he has his weaknesses.”
“What do you mean?”
Lucia gave a disinterested little yawn. “He may be competent— Eek!”
The carriage rocked wildly, launching her off her seat, and she struck the back of her head against the wall, letting out an uncharacteristically startled yelp. She resumed speaking with an irritable scowl, rubbing her head.
“As I said, he may be competent, but he is old-fashioned and set in his ways. He is not a man given to compromise.” She tapped her fan against her cheek. “In any case, all has gone according to plan so far. We shall arrive at the capital, fight our way up the hill to the palace, and that shall be that.”
The palace of Fierte stood apart from the rest of the city. It was built on top of a hill with a gate at the bottom, separating it from the port. As far as Hiro was concerned, that was a stroke of luck—it would ensure that no innocent townsfolk were hurt tonight. The problem was the hill road. It made the palace easy to defend. Greif’s armies might have been depleted by their battles with the empire in Faerzen, but they would still outnumber Lucia’s two thousand.
“Are you sure it’ll be that easy? You said yourself that they’re fortifying their defenses. It’ll be a lot more heavily guarded than that checkpoint.”
“Fear not. Soldiers from every kingdom are stationed in Fierte. The Anguis contingent is small, but they shall be more than enough to open the gate.”
It seemed Lucia had left her aide Seleucus in charge of her forces in the city.
“Assuming our treachery does not come to light, we shall be able to approach the hill without difficulty. Once we are there, we need only fight our way up, assume positions around the palace entrance, and take the High King hostage.”
“So we’re racing against time.”
“Hence the need for haste.”
Hiro was not fully satisfied. Even if Lucia’s scheme succeeded, she would be branded a traitor. How did she plan to quell the uproar after securing the High King? Not that he would be disappointed to see her fail—the empire only stood to gain from strife between Greif and Anguis, after all—but he was curious.
“And I’m supposed to take care of Nameless in the meantime?”
“Precisely. If I am correct, she ought to be attending to the defense of the palace.”
Lucia sounded certain, but Hiro had his doubts. If Nameless was watching them, their plans would be ruined, but so far, she had not stirred. That suggested she was not in Greif at all—but in that case, where was she?
If my suspicions are correct, she’ll abandon Greif entirely.
In any case, this was a chance well worth taking, as well as an ideal opportunity to ingratiate himself with Lucia. His plans were coming to fruition. Coming this far had been a delicate dance that had required pulling on many unlikely threads, but soon, all would be one.
The archpriestess, Nameless, whatever she calls herself... Let her keep scheming if she wants.
People lived as pawns, using and being used by others, unwittingly serving higher purposes even as they acted of their own wills. All their joy, their delight, their anger, and their sorrow would one day become one more thread in the tapestry of history. Even Hiro himself was just another piece on the board. Generals, rich men, and kings alike were nothing more than playthings to the gods.
But not for long. Soon, the world will be made anew...
Hiro cut the thought off. Lucia was speaking.
“Do you know,” she said, “I never did ask. Why is it that you do not ride?”
For a moment, he wondered how to wriggle out of the question, but then he recalled that she already knew anything he might want to hide. As he pondered that, the carriage jolted, and Lucia cracked her head against the wall a second time. Tears beaded in her eyes. She clearly wasn’t used to carriage rides.
Doing his best not to chuckle, Hiro brought a hand to his chest. “It’s the Black Camellia. Horses sense her.”
Lucia tapped her fan against her cheek, nodding in understanding. “Indeed. Horses can read minds, ’tis said, and they sense peril just as easily. Few would have the nerve to bear the ruler of all living beasts.”
“No.” Hiro nodded. “They wouldn’t.”
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a letter—the one he had not given to Muninn. Perhaps he should have done, but he had eventually decided against it.
“And what is this?”
“Something I no longer need. Its recipient can stand well enough on their own two feet. They all can.”
“And what, pray tell, do you mean by that?”
“I mean that people grow.” Hiro tore the letter in two, then four, then eight. He tossed the scraps from the window and let the wind carry them away. They fluttered behind the carriage like flower petals. He smiled as he watched them vanish into the night.
Walk your own path, Aura. You don’t need my help anymore.
Lucia looked at him askance for a while before directing her fan to the Black Camellia. “’Tis a belated question, perhaps, but why white? Did you not wear black when first we met?”
“My scent—the Black Camellia’s scent—is quite distinctive. I’m using a dharmastone to disguise it.”
Soon, there would be no more need for that either. Hiro cast one more glance out of the window, picturing in his mind’s eye the woman who was no doubt flying across the plain.
I’ll be waiting. I do hope you’ll join me.
＊＊＊＊＊
The twenty-seventh day of the tenth month of Imperial Year 1026
The eighty thousand soldiers of the imperial army had come within sight of Licht. Despite repeated requests for surrender, Esel had refused to negotiate, maintaining a stony silence. The imperial command had judged that they could not afford to waste any more time and moved on the capital in earnest. Their formations were assigned, their siege weapons were in place, and their forces were ready for battle. Yet, curiously, they seemed to have stopped just shy of the town.
Huginn, the commander of the Crow Legion, shaded her eyes with a hand as she watched from the back lines. “Why aren’t they circling the city?” she mused, cocking her head as she glanced at Luka.
The woman looked up at the sky, her empty sleeve flapping lazily in the breeze. “They may be leaving Esel a way out. Or perhaps something has gone awry.”
“Looks like they’re hanging back a little far,” Huginn replied.
“Fighting may break out if they advance too close. It may be that they still hope Esel will see reason.”
The imperial forces were arrayed in a first cohort of thirty thousand, a second cohort of twenty thousand, and a third cohort of another twenty thousand, but they had left oddly large gaps between their formations.
“I don’t like how they’re laid out,” Huginn said. “Seems like they’d shatter if they took a hit in the wrong place.”
“They need not fear any ambush. The bulk of Esel’s forces are defending the city, and it seems the other kingdoms have sent no reinforcements.”
Muninn stood awkwardly behind them in his Hiro disguise. Eventually, perhaps growing restless or simply bored, he stepped forward to join their conversation. “They want to show off how many men we’ve got, I’ll bet. Scare ’em into laying down their swords.”
“Do you think we’ll end up fighting, Miss Luka?” Huginn asked, ignoring him.
“I don’t believe so. I have met the queen of Esel. She does not have the spine to defy any army of this size, much less the empire.”
“Erm... You two? Never mind...” Seeing that neither of them spared him so much as a glance, Muninn shrugged and took a seat in his chair, staring sourly at the ground.
“Then they’ll probably surrender soon,” Huginn said.
“I don’t doubt the empire has given them the option.”
Luka frowned at that. It was only the slightest movement of her eyebrows but enough of a change of mood for someone who had known her for long enough to detect.
Huginn turned to peer at her. “Miss Luka? Is something wrong?”
“Not as such. I was just thinking...it’s hard to believe the queen of Esel would be so slow to make her decision.”
“Slow? How d’you mean?”
“As I say, she is a timid sort. I would have expected her to surrender the moment the empire crossed the border.”
It was possible Jilbe had changed over the past three years, but she had never struck Luka as having that capacity. She had perpetually hidden behind Luka’s back, terrified of something or other and seeking comfort from a fellow human.
“For her to have held her nerve until the empire was knocking at her door seems almost miraculous. And to refuse to reply after the empire has asked her so many times to negotiate... It seems rather out of character.”
It was possible she had angered some faction of warmongering nobles and hidden herself away while they took control of the kingdom’s affairs. Still, that seemed unlikely. Surely nobody in Esel was itching for conflict with the empire. The villages and towns on the way to Licht had been all too happy to acquiesce to imperial demands. If Jilbe had made herself unavailable, her nobles would have surrendered in her place. They would not have maintained this strange silence.
“Could it be that she fears to decide her nation’s future?”
But Jilbe was nobody so dutiful. She had inherited the throne in a flurry of ceremonies after the death of her father, long before she could learn what it meant to be a ruler. Luka suspected she resented having been made queen.
“A curious matter indeed. But musing will do us no good. It is for the empire to find the answers, not us. All we can do is wait for them to act.”
Luka looked at the imperial lines, and Huginn followed her gaze. The sky was clear. If not for the oppressive atmosphere of battle, it would have been a pleasant morning. Dewdrops slipped from the ends of leaves and grasses to seep into the earth. There was a warmth in the air, born from the breath of tens of thousands of throats. The imperial soldiers awaited the order to advance. Their souls burned silently as they gazed at the walls, imagining the moment they would swarm into the town beyond and seize ultimate victory.
Leading them was the chief strategist of the empire, Treya Verdan Aura von Bunadala. As the imperial corps milled with anxious aides, she alone was still, watching and waiting for the moment to strike. A rider came before her, dressed in the sable plate of the Knights of the Royal Black.
He leaped down from his horse and fell to one knee. “The Knights of the Golden Lion, the Knights of the Royal Black, and the Knights of the Rose are all in position, my lady!” he bellowed with somewhat inappropriate gusto.
Aura raised a hand. “You are the captain of a knight company now, Sir Spitz. Don’t be so excitable.”
“Of course, my lady!”
Despite the warning, von Spitz sounded pleased. It was hard to blame him—he had served as Aura’s aide for many years, gradually winning himself renown with the Knights of the Royal Black, but the two had parted ways after Aura was stripped of command following her failed offensive on the Faerzen Resistance. Von Spitz still dreamed of returning to her service, however, so much so that he had taken the place of a messenger just to see her again.
“Why aren’t you with your unit?” Aura asked.
“The Knights of the Royal Black are well capable of taking care of themselves in my absence, my lady. It was you who trained them, after all!”
Aura fell silent for a long moment. “Of course.”
Von Spitz’s praise was flattering, but a captain leaving his unit was a flagrant breach of military regulations. He would have to be disciplined after the fighting was done.
“Go back to your command, Sir Spitz. I will deal with you later.”
“Yes, my lady!” Strangely, he still sounded thankful. He mounted his horse and left the core with a battle cry. The shout caught on. Soon, the whole army was roaring. Morale soared as the air shook and armored boots struck the ground like drum beats.
Aura nodded, pleased by what she saw. Professional conduct aside, von Spitz knew how to raise his men’s spirits. He was regrettably hard to dislike.
As Aura furrowed her brow, one of her aides approached her. “All units have been given their orders, my lady. Morale is high. We await your command.”
She closed her eyes, taking a moment to collect herself. Her battle plan unfolded inside her mind. She checked and rechecked it, following the steps they had decided in their strategy meetings. At last, she opened her eyes once more and looked over her aides, who had gathered around her.
“What do the lookouts say?”
“A large number of figures are visible on the ramparts. It seems Esel means to fight.”
That was regrettable. Aura had wanted to avoid battle if she could help it. If Esel would not back down, however, there was nothing for it. She would face them with all her might.
She raised her right arm to the side. “As we planned. Sound the horns. For the glory of the empire!”
“Yes, my lady!” the aides replied as one before scattering to their tasks.
Aura bowed to the banner of the lion, the sigil of the empire. “I dedicate this victory to the house of von Grantz.”
Horn blasts split the air. A roar went up from the ranks, raising a gigantic plume of dust. The thirty thousand soldiers of the first cohort ground into motion. Aura sat back in her chair and watched them go, heaving a sigh.
“So it begins.”
All that remained was to wait for the battle to play out. Perhaps it would conform to her predictions, or perhaps it would defy them. Anything could happen in war.
There was nothing so terrifying as a battle that seemed easily winnable. Aura had learned that all too well four years ago in Faerzen. She had advanced to confront the Faerzen Resistance, confident in her superior numbers, only to be outmaneuvered by Draali forces and fall straight into Six Kingdoms’ trap. Hiro had departed not long afterward, and the years since had been far from easy. Yet she had thrown herself into studying tactics to better support the Crimson Princess, crafting a plan for victory over the course of many sleepless nights.
“My strategy has to be flawless. If it fails, we’ll lose everything we hold dear.”
Conviction burned in her leaden eyes as she scanned the battlefield, smoldering with quiet fervor. She felt neither anxiety nor doubt. Her heart looked to the future. No doubt her soldiers felt the same.
The first cohort began to encircle Licht. Countless tiny figures dashed to and fro on the ramparts. Esel had fewer than ten thousand men left—they might have had the advantage of fortifications, but with such numbers, they could not hold out more than three days. The empire had Steissen’s siege weaponry, and most tellingly of all, Licht did not have high walls. If all went to plan, it would fall with ease.
A roar went up from the imperial troops as they reached their positions. The battle was beginning in earnest. Flaming arrows rained down over the walls, and battering rams advanced on the gates. Before long, the city’s entrances would be smoldering rubble, and the town beyond would be shrouded in black smoke.
“So far, so good. Now...”
As Aura spoke, a messenger hurtled into view. He tumbled off his horse and fell to one knee. “Enemies to our rear, my lady!” he declared.
A wave of shock ran through the aides, but Aura stayed calm. She rose from her chair and turned to look into the distance. A plume of dust was approaching on the horizon.
She thrust her right arm out to the side. “Raise a smoke signal. Send the Knights of the Golden Lion, the Knights of the Royal Black, and the Knights of the Rose to meet the enemy. And send word to Steissen. Tell them to charge as soon as they see the signal from our banners.”
“Yes, my lady!”
Aura’s instructions went out to the standard-bearers. A smoke signal began to rise.
“Tell the rest of the army not to look back. They are to forge on and seize victory.”
“At once!”
As the messenger departed, Aura closed one hand into a fist and nodded firmly. “It’s starting.”
She had thought it was strange that Esel’s notoriously timid queen had refused to negotiate, and that nagging sense of wrongness had developed into a suspicion once it became clear that Vulpes, Tigris, and Scorpius did not intend to intervene in the conflict. She had gathered all the information she could, working with the empire’s agents in the three kingdoms, investigating possibilities one by one. Her predictions had proven correct, and now they had come to pass.
No matter how much contempt the álfar might have had for humans, they would not stand idly by while a threat encroached on their own borders. Yet the empire had eighty thousand men—far too many to face head-on. Fighting fair would not avail them. They would have to come up with some manner of underhanded strategy.
“It was clever of them!” an aide exclaimed to Aura. “Trying to flank us by sea.”
Aside from Esel, all of Six Kingdoms maintained a thriving maritime trade. It would be easy for them to move their forces by boat. Aura’s first instinct had been to suspect an ambush by sea, so she had kept the imperial army alert for night raids. Nonetheless, she had not been confident she was right. The plan she suspected would have called for an enormous loss of life. It would have to be predicated on abandoning Esel, and it would have proven that Vulpes, Scorpius, and Tigris were no allies, only conquerors looking for opportunity in their compatriot’s misfortune. Given Six Kingdoms’ history, Aura had been unwilling to believe they would make that choice. It was difficult not to feel sorry for Esel now, knowing that they had.
“Esel was a necessary sacrifice to them,” Aura replied. “To keep our forces in the west.”
No doubt Vulpes, Tigris, and Scorpius had hoped to strike the imperial army from behind as it closed in on Licht, dealing it a severe blow if not wiping it out entirely. Yet left to their own devices, they might not have intervened at all. Álfar would not help humans out of the goodness of their hearts. Only one force could have coaxed them to action: the Vanir Triumvirate.
“The coming days will decide if the empire lives or dies.”
If the Vanir Triumvirate was moving against the empire, the rest of Soleil would also see its chance—and unrest fomenting in the northern and southern territories would no doubt spill out to join it.
“Our enemies will move against us, from outside and within.”
Aura had to bring the war against Six Kingdoms to an end, and soon, but haste would lead to defeat. It was an exasperating situation. Still, she could not afford to give in.
“Rosa will just have to hold the fort until we get back.”
They had made what preparations they could. The question now was who would rise and who would fall. So far, events had proceeded as expected, but here Aura’s predictions ended. The gears of fate were turning, and the survival of the empire hung in the balance.
＊＊＊＊＊
“Well, would you look at that. They really showed.”
Skadi regarded the enemy troops who had appeared at the rear with anticipation in her eyes. She stood upright on the back of her horse, balancing nimbly as she shielded her eyes from the sun.
“Guess the little runt knows what she’s talking about.”
Skadi had been skeptical when Aura warned of a surprise attack. Everybody had thought the rest of Six Kingdoms had abandoned Esel. Still, she wasn’t complaining about a chance to satisfy her bloodlust.
“Damn well cried myself to sleep after she told me I was stuck on the back lines.” Her smile broadened as she took in the size of the approaching dust cloud. “Shows what I know, eh?”
At that moment, an aide rode up to her. He was grinning too, like a child who had just been gifted a new plaything. “Ready to go when you are, chief!”
Skadi waved him off. “Not yet, not yet. The runt’s not given us the go-ahead.”
“You’re gonna make us wait, chief? They’re right there! Give us the word and we’ll scatter those scrawny álfar like wheat!”
The aide was getting a little too excitable. Skadi grasped him by the head and lifted him up. The brawny beastman was pulled off his horse.
“Enough back talk. Show some respect.”
The aide’s horse looked around in confusion, unsure why its burden had suddenly gotten lighter. Skadi grinned, giving a large yawn.
“Normally I’d be right with you, but the runt says timing’s key, so we hold off until she says go. We’re here to help, remember. We do as we’re told.”
The aide’s horse began to wander away in search of its missing master. Seeing it move away, Skadi released her grip. Without his mount to catch him, the beastman landed squarely on his rump.
“Argh!”
Skadi spared him only a glance as he writhed in pain before returning her attention to the enemy. “Big dust cloud. I’d put ’em at twenty thousand?”
Steissen’s forces numbered only five thousand. If she was right, they would be up against steep odds. Baum’s Crow Legion were the only other troops stationed behind the imperial core, and Aura had expressed at the last strategy meeting that they were not to move from their position under any circumstances. Skadi could only assume she didn’t want to leave the core bare.
“She’s taking her damned time, though...”
Skadi wanted to taste battle, and soon. She cast a resentful glance at the imperial lines. As she did, she noticed a rider cantering toward her, dressed in the armor of the imperial military. Her eyes gleamed.
“Word! I bring word! Is Lady Skadi present?”
“Aye, over here.” She waved him over.
The messenger approached. “I bring word from the chief strategist. As soon as the banners go up, you are to charge and annihilate the foe.”
Aura’s commands were simple and easily understood. There was only one problem.
Skadi’s eyes flashed. “She still wants us to wait?”
The messenger gulped as the air temperature dropped several degrees. Her naked hostility was more than he could stand. He turned his horse about, but Skadi’s hand reached out to grab him before he could leave. He shut his eyes, preparing to breathe his last.
“Chief!” an aide called out. “I see banners going up!”
The messenger let out a sigh of relief. He had been saved. He opened his eyes to see Skadi already forging ahead into the distance. His eyes widened—not only at her speed, but at the way she rode, standing on horseback with arms spread wide to greet their foe. Her core strength must have been extraordinary.
“All right, you layabouts!” she yelled. “I know you’ve all gotten tired of waiting for a good fight! Well, now there’s fresh meat just ready for the taking! Go and eat your fill!”
Her voice carried clear and true across the Steissen lines. Her soldiers may have been dressed like bandits, but the sight of them raising their weapons high to sound a battle cry was fearsome enough to chill the blood.
“After the chief, you louts!”
The cry of the beastfolk spread across the field. With a drumming of hooves, the Steissen forces shuddered after Skadi. The warmth of their fervor whipped around her with the wind.
“Ha ha ha! Now this...this is what I’ve been waiting for!”
She hadn’t gotten to take part in a single battle since crossing the Esel border. It had begun to seem like Six Kingdoms would never show any spine. Yet now, they had given her exactly what she had asked for. It would only be polite to return the favor. She would hold nothing back, hunting her foes to the last man, staining the land red as she granted them glorious deaths.
She slipped her claws onto the backs of her hands. As she plunged into the enemy vanguard, she leaped from the back of her horse.
“What in the—?!” Below her, a soldier’s eyes widened in surprise, and then three parallel cuts shredded his face.
Blood sprayed, but Skadi was already pouncing on her next target. Corpse after corpse crashed to the ground, felled by her nimble advance. Those she spared only had seconds to enjoy their good fortune before the Steissen charge crashed into them.
“You missed one! Don’t let him get away!”
The beastfolk tore across the battlefield with abandon, hunting down any stragglers like starving wolves.
As Skadi returned to her horse, one of her aides pulled in alongside her, laughing. “Not bad, chief! Finally, a fight worthy of the beastfolk!”
“Aye, but don’t let your guard down. You gotta keep your eyes on álfar or they’ll have you dead before you know it.”
The aide raised his spear high. “Don’t worry, chief! I’m more than a match for—”
Abruptly, he pitched sideways. Skadi caught him by the collar before he fell from his horse, but he was already dead, an arrow lodged in his skull.
“What’d I tell you? Don’t worry, I’ll avenge you. Rest easy on the other side.” She let him fall. He toppled from the back of his horse and vanished into the dust cloud behind them. “But as for the rest of you...I’ll show you what happens to anyone who lays a finger on my cubs.”
Arrows rained down from above. There were still Six Kingdoms cavalry on the field, but the álfar did not hesitate to sacrifice their allies in order to cut down their enemies. That only inflamed Skadi’s rage.
“This is why I hate you long-eared bastards. Oh, you pretty it up, talking about how proud you are of your iron wills, but where’s the honor in slaying your kin?!”
She scattered the arrows with a swing of her arm and leaped from her horse, plunging into the heart of the enemy archers. Her claws slashed, tore, and gouged. She cleaved through her enemies until they were no more, cutting short their cries and grunts with single, decisive blows. A trail of bodies lay scattered in her wake.
Her troops showed no fear in the face of the deluge either. They swung their swords with arrows through their arms and launched kicks with shafts lodged in their thighs, hell-bent on slaying their enemies for as long as there was breath in their lungs. They fought like demons, grinning through their foes’ blood. The sight struck even the famously composed álfar with terror.
At that moment, screams rang out from the back of the enemy lines.
“Huh?”
Skadi could not see what was happening from where she was, but that was easily rectified. She returned to the slaughter, carving a path to her destination.
“Chief!” one of her soldiers cried. “The Knights of the Royal Black, the Knights of the Golden Lion, and the Knights of the Rose have gotten behind the enemy! They’ve pulled off an ambush!”
Skadi nodded, grinning, as she broke an álfar’s neck. “So that’s what all the noise is about.” She gored an approaching soldier through the chest and glanced back at the imperial core. “The runt knows her strategy, I’ll give her that much.”
Not only was she impressed, she felt a newfound respect. Now it was clear why Aura had asked her to wait—to draw Six Kingdoms’ troops closer. Only once the enemy flooded in, eager to overwhelm Steissen’s forces, did the empire’s elite knights spring the trap. The chief strategist had pulled off a magnificent coup...and it did not escape Skadi that she had employed the same trick Scorpius, Tigris, and Vulpes had tried to use against the empire.
“A taste of their own medicine, eh? The perfect ploy for those sneaky long-ears. It’s almost a shame to leave her with the humans.”
Aura’s plan had been so ingenious that Skadi had half a mind to take her back to Steissen. At the very least, she could repay the favor by slaughtering hordes of álfar. Deeper and deeper she carved into the enemy lines. Yet the farther she got, the more she sensed something amiss.
“More and more... Someone’s cutting down my cubs.”
The number of beastfolk bodies on the ground was beginning to eclipse the number of álfar. The problem was not with the Steissen troops’ morale. That was high and soaring higher. Was it possible they were simply being overwhelmed? But no—the imperial knights’ ambush ought to have evened the odds. So why were there so many corpses? A broad grin spread across Skadi’s face. That could only mean the presence of a powerful foe, one formidable enough to slaughter beastfolk by the score.
“Hah! Looks like we’ll have some sport today after all! Now, where are you? Show yourself!”
She cut down anyone and everyone in her way, bounding across the battlefield in search of a worthy challenge. At last, she came across a curious knot of beastfolk. Joy surged through her to see they were hard-pressed.
“Out of the way!” she cried, leaping high.
As she soared skyward, she saw an álf beneath her. He projected peerless skill and overflowing might. A chill went up her spine. He was truly strong.
“I’ll take you on!”
She spread her arms as wide as her joints would allow, concentrating all her strength in her back before unleashing it in an explosion of force. Muscles bulging, she closed her arms around him as if in an embrace. Any ordinary man would have been turned to a bloody pulp. This one, however...
“Not bad,” she growled, licking her own blood from her cheek. Delight radiated from her every pore. At last, she had found a worthy foe.
The beastfolk around her drew back, leaving space for her to fight. They fell instead upon the álfen soldiers nearby.
“You reek like a wild animal,” the álfar drawled. “How very repulsive.”
He held a chakram in his right hand. Skadi glanced at it, making certain not to lower her guard. Immediately, she could tell it was no ordinary weapon.
The álfar saw where she was looking and narrowed his eyes. “Begone from my sight, beastwoman.”
His arm became a blur, and the chakram vanished from his grasp. As the threat bore down on her, Skadi rolled her shoulders in anticipation and surged forward.
“You charge in like a wild boar without even taking your foe’s measure?” Her opponent sneered. “You mistake recklessness for valor.”
Skadi ignored him, batting the chakram aside, but it split into two halves. She twisted her head to avoid one and smacked the other out of the air with her full strength. “Two in one, hm? You nearly got me.”
“Close, but not close enough.”
All of a sudden, Skadi sensed danger approaching from behind her. She dove sideways, but not fast enough. Agonizing pain lanced up her leg, sending her sprawling across the ground.
“What in the hell...?”
She looked down to see that her thigh had been laid open. Her brows knitted. She thought she had dodged the attack.
The álfar laughed. “Impressive. Few could evade Brionac of the Dharmic Blades upon their first sighting.”
“One of the Noble Blades, eh? Maybe I underestimated you.”
This would be no easy fight, Skadi realized. She would have to prepare herself accordingly. She rose to her feet, her injured leg dangling beneath her.
“You fight well for a beast. But you shall not escape the next one.” The álfar hurled his chakram again. It flew slower than the last time, almost painfully so. “My name is Maram Inar. Surely even you wish to know who slew you?”
“Thank you kindly. I haven’t faced a foe like you in quite a while. I was just thinking I ought to ask before I killed you.”
With a bark of laughter, Skadi dodged the chakram again. The dance of blood and flesh, a battle to the death that only one would survive, a worthy opponent after long, long weeks of waiting—there was no greater thrill. She no longer even registered her injury. The only thought in her mind was devouring the dish before her. She smiled as broadly as a lovestruck maiden, closing the distance between them with blinding speed.
“No need to know my name, but remember this one: the Claws of Madness—Tyrfing!”
She raised her claws high and swept them down. The edges of their blades were already crusted black.
“My pride and joy!”
＊＊＊＊＊
Fierte, the capital of Greif
Between its thriving waterborne trade and its position as the High King’s seat, Greif was among the wealthiest nations of Six Kingdoms. The palace of Fierte stood atop a small hill apart from the port town. Around twenty thousand soldiers were encamped at the base. White smoke arose from scattered cookfires, hinting that it was dinnertime.
The crisis in Esel seemed not to have spoiled the soldiers’ mood. None seemed anxious. Nonetheless, news from the south was on everybody’s lips. They were not disinterested—far from it; they were sympathetic—but as long as their superiors mandated that Greif’s security mattered more, they were obliged to discuss the subject from a distance. Besides, word had come that the empire would not attack Greif, so they had the luxury of security.
With the mood so light, no one paid any mind to the two thousand soldiers riding through their midst. A few men scrambled out of their tents in surprise at the noise, but they lost interest and fell to chatting with their peers as soon as they saw the Anguis flags.
Lucia’s nose wrinkled as she watched them from inside the carriage. “After a thousand years of alliance, they hardly even suspect. Foolish, don’t you think?”
“Very,” Hiro replied. “That’s no reason to let your guard down. I never like to see soldiers being too trusting. Even if it works to our advantage.”
Perhaps the soldiers weren’t particularly alert to potential threats, or perhaps they simply trusted Anguis. Either way, Lucia’s forces had made it inexcusably far into the palace grounds. Not that they were complaining about that, of course.
“Quite. Vulpes, Scorpius, and Tigris were just as trusting, and now they are ruled by álfar.” There was more of a note of resentment in Lucia’s voice as she tapped her fan irritably against her chair. “And Greif is just the same. Ever since the High King was stricken by illness, it has been ruled by its álfar chancellor.”
Several of Six Nations’ rulers had abdicated their thrones at once, paving the way for álfar to rule while the old royal families took the blame for various failures and collapsed. Its misfortunes had compounded when the High King took ill. Many suspected he had been poisoned, but no investigation had ever been conducted, and Greif, the founding kingdom, had fallen into the hands of Nameless.
“It reeks of the Vanir Triumvirate’s meddling,” Hiro remarked.
“Indeed. And now, of all the descendants of the Black Hand, ’twould seem only Luka and I remain.”
“You’re descended from the Venerable Master, if I remember correctly?”
The Venerable Master had assumed the role of Hiro’s tutor after Hiro first arrived in Aletia. He had beaten the basics of strategy into Hiro and taught him about military conduct, politics, and human relations. Hiro owed much to his kindness.
“Indeed I am. ’Tis because of his memoirs that I learned who you were. I shall have to show them to you someday.”
“I’d rather not look. He would have been furious if he knew I was peeking at his diary.”
Hiro had to confess, he was curious. The Venerable Master had been one of the few people who knew he had come from another world. How much had he committed to writing? What had happened after Hiro’s departure? A part of him would have loved to know.
“Come to think of it,” he continued, “who is Luka descended from?”
“Amphibia of the Black Hand—via the royal bloodline of Scorpius.”
It seemed Scorpius and Vulpes had intermarried some two generations prior. Luka’s blood connection was so tenuous that under other circumstances it would be ignored, but with the royal house of Scorpius fully displaced by the álfar, she was now Amphibia’s only living descendant.
“She and Igel were fortunate, in a sense,” Luka continued. “At least they were not slain like their peers.”
That said, they had lived little better than livestock. They had kept their lives, but the hardship had broken Luka’s spirit for good.
“But enough talk. We have work to do.”
Lucia turned her attention to the window. The gate at the base of the hill had come into sight. The carriage lowered its speed and sent a signal to the sentries looking down from the battlements.
“It’s almost too easy,” Hiro remarked as the sturdy gate ground open.
A mounted soldier trotted forth—Seleucus, Lucia’s handsome young aide. He fell in alongside the carriage and rapped on the window.
Lucia opened the window, letting a gust of hot air escape to mingle with the warmth outside. “Apprise me of the situation.”
Seleucus peered inside the carriage. He spotted Hiro and bobbed his head. “You should be able to ride up to the front doors uninterrupted. However”—and his mouth twisted a little—“General Ramses has taken charge of palace security. I’m sure he’ll stand down once we surround the place, but I thought you ought to be aware.”
“Fine work,” Lucia said. “Well, then. I daresay we ought to pay General Ramses a visit.”
She ordered the coachman to go faster. The carriage and the two thousand men behind it raced up the hill at full speed, raising a cloud of dust. Alarm spread through the Greif camp, but they were already too late to do anything but watch.
General Ramses emerged from the gate at the head of the two hundred soldiers of the palace garrison, a wary glint in his eyes. He glared at Lucia and Hiro as they stepped out of the carriage before casting his eyes over their troops. True to his rank, he did not seem perturbed by their presence.
“What are you doing here, Your Majesty?” His voice was deep and dignified. He laid a hand on the pommel of his sword, his eyes boring into Lucia as she stepped closer.
Lucia gestured theatrically. “I have come to liberate Six Kingdoms from the álfar!”
“An absurd justification for a common revolt. You would level your blade at the High King.”
“If the High King asks me to desist, then so I shall.” Lucia glared back, tapping her fan on her shoulder. “But you know as well as I that since his convalescence, Nameless has occupied the throne in all but name.”
“This is no solution.” General Ramses brought a hand to his forehead and lowered his eyes before shooing her away as he might a dog. “Return to Anguis, Your Majesty, and I will turn a blind eye to this foolishness.”
He turned his back and began to walk away. While he might overlook her actions, he would clearly not forgive them.
Lucia narrowed her eyes, opening her fan and raising it to cover her mouth. “Just as you have turned a blind eye to Esel?”
Ramses flinched. His feet came to a stop. Lucia’s eyes filled with delight, and watching from beside her, Hiro realized he had just caught a glimpse of her true fearsomeness. She was immeasurably shrewd and endlessly persistent, and she would stop at nothing to snare her prey. She would use any tool at her disposal, even her longtime allies if need be. Like the serpent of her house, she wound her coils around her victims and slowly but surely crushed the life from their bodies.
“Have you forsaken our thousand-year bond?” she continued. “Is now not the moment for Greif to assume its rightful place and fight?!”
“Enough,” Ramses growled. “The High King has spoken. We are to defend our own lands.”
Lucia licked her lips behind her fan as he turned around to face her. Her eyes danced for joy to see her prey take the bait. “And instead of reminding him of his duty, you obey thoughtlessly? Are these the actions of a loyal subject, General Ramses? Is this your idea of justice?”
She taunted him with outright glee, taking pleasure in every moment as her maw yawned wide to swallow him whole.
“Does Greif’s general so easily abandon its thousand-year bond? Did you not once tell me your post is only for the most noble? That it comes with a sacred duty to defend all of Six Kingdoms?”
She poked and prodded at his pride, striving to make him question himself.
“And yet you will not even ride to Esel’s aid. ’Twould seem all that talk of nobility amounted to little in the end!”
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