TWO YEARS BEFORE
THE TRAGEDY OF NORTHSHARD
Part 1
Spectra
Spectra wished she could enjoy the view from her family’s balcony, but knowing her older brother intended to kill her spoiled the moment.
She stared off at the Genesis Bridge cresting the horizon, one hand remained firmly planted on the railing while the other carefully gripped the hilt of her sword. Although she did not have any real belief in the gods, the bridge attracted tens of thousands of religious pilgrims each year to cross its two kilometer span and reach the roaring ring waterfalls that poured into the massive hole in the middle of Merkon’s lake.
Another ring, this one man-made and encircling the seemingly endless abyss, was constructed with enough stone to build a small city of its own. It had dozens of arches through which the overflowing waters cascaded in a brilliant sheet, providing a final moment of beauty before disappearing. Although the cause of the remarkable natural phenomenon was unknown, the pilgrims believed that the Infinity Gate, where the entirety of existence had entered the world thousands of years before, was acting by the will of the gods to try to pull all living things back into the Divine Fields.
In only a few hours, Spectra would lead the Royal Family across the bridge to the Ring of the Faithful, allowing them to stare into the depths of the Gate. She had never seen the flowing waters flowing into eternity, and part of her looked forward to it.
A servant brought her a chalice, but a stern voice stopped him.
“Don’t give her anything. We don’t serve traitors here.”
Spectra abandoned the view of the Infinity Gate to face her brother.
Jonn was one of the last of the primary heirs to House Corvane. There was no doubt about their blood relation, as they both had the same penetrating tan eyes, sharp chin, and crown of coal-black hair with gray peppered into it. He was currently wearing a bright blue tunic that concealed his muscular frame. Stitched to the front of the tunic was a sword running through the night flames, matching the sigil of his House.
The servant holding her chalice slunk away.
“Don’t bother serving the man she brought with her, either.” Jonn drunkenly gestured toward the door to the chambers, where Sir Rathburn stood in a gleaming full metal shell, his fingers wrapped hungrily around the hilt of his sword as he watched the siblings squabble.
Spectra rapped her fingers against the railing. “From the perspective of the king, it was your family who were the traitors.”
Jonn grabbed the chalice from the servant as he walked by, then took a long swig. “My family? Have you so completely disavowed us that you no longer claim us even in casual conversation?”
“If I were to maintain my kinship with you, the king would never have allowed me to serve him. Look where I am now—an overmaster on his Supreme Council, while your House remains shattered and hemorrhaging its wealth. Even your closest allies have either been slain or retreated to Mariannas.”
Jonn finished what was in the chalice and tossed it aside. It clanked as it struck the stone floor and rolled toward the chamber doors. Rathburn casually maneuvered his foot so it ricocheted off of his boot.
Spectra caught the potent scent of wine intensifying as Jonn approached.
“Just because our rebellion failed does not mean we weren’t justified. The Shrakes have not properly reinforced the southern Houses, and so we have been dying for generations from Cazarathian and Brelinarian raids. Their deaths used to mean something to you.”
“They still do. King Gadrion is the first king with a real plan to eliminate the other kingdoms and bring about true eternal dominion for humanity. Once he does that, the southerners will never again have to worry about non-men raids.”
“We had the support of the Grimshaws, the Vorcastles, the Bludsows, and every other major House in the south, and even some in the center. Our House would have been a part of the new Royal Family had we succeeded in toppling the Shrakes.”
“You were never as close to succeeding as you believe. A handful of battles and some assassinations spread over a decade and a half does not qualify as a war.”
Jonn’s bootfalls echoed as he stepped onto the balcony a few strides from her. He leaned on the railing without reaching for his sword.
“We came close at the Night of the Fallen Crescents,” Jonn reminisced. “When a few of our brethren slaughtered the king’s siblings. I know the king would never have been mad enough to be involved in any of that, so the only explanation I ever accepted was that someone close to the king had led the assassins into the palace.” Jonn turned to her, his previous scowl softening for a few heartbeats. “Perhaps someone who still had glimmers of loyalty to the southern Houses.”
You would have been right if you had believed the king capable of that, you idiot, Spectra thought.
Jonn would also be right in assuming she had led the assassins into the palace, but it was actually done at Gadrion’s behest.
She hardened her face as she returned his gaze. “It was never me. Those were always anti-royalist extremists acting on their own.”
Jonn’s scowl returned. “A shame. Even now, I would have overlooked your previous betrayal of our family if you had been involved. I could have accepted you back as my sister, to make the Corvanes whole again.”
“I, on the other hand, still embrace you, Specky. Regardless of your lack of involvement in that night.”
Jonn rolled his eyes and gestured hard for a servant to bring him a replacement chalice.
Spectra’s twin brother, Ardian, strode confidently through the chamber doors. Spectra could not help but share his smile, though she quickly returned her face to stone.
I cannot show them any emotion, she reminded herself. Not this day.
While Ardian used to resemble Jonn more than her, he now appeared to be lacking a healthy diet. The bones of his face protruded, his eyes were sunken, and his cheeks revealed healed scars. The robes adorning his skeletal frame were brown, worn, and appeared as if a stampede of parasaurs had stomped on them in the streets.
Unlike the last time Spectra had seen him, Ardian was not carrying any weapons. He raised his arms. “Would you embrace me in return?”
Spectra felt as if Ardian had reached into her chest and grabbed hold of her heart. She wanted to embrace him, seeing flashes of their childhood play through her head, but knew that holding him would be the moment of weakness she could not afford.
“The time when I would have returned the gesture has passed.” Spectra felt the grip on her heart tighten as she spoke the words.
Ardian’s arms slowly dropped to his sides.
Jonn chuckled from beside them as he grabbed a fresh chalice from a half-nude female servant.
“You see? I told you our sister was dead.”
Ardian shook his head. “No. I have faith that she is there somewhere. One day, the gods will return her in full.”
“That is as much a fantasy as bringing our father back from the dead.” Jonn emphasized his grumbling with a long sip.
Spectra’s eyes ran up the height of her brother. “You are dressed like one of the Men of Robes. Have you fully converted?”
Ardian reached up to touch the scars on his cheek. “I had a revelation the night after the siege of Valdoon. Kalor came to me as I lay in a fever dream, urging me to leave my life of conflict and join our cousins in Mariannas.”
“You conjured such a dream to justify your cowardice,” Jonn countered. “Spectra may as well have held your cock as the two of you pissed on our House together. Our father would have beheaded the both of you had Spectra not slain him.”
Spectra spun from Ardian. “Father came with the intent of killing me. As you well know.”
Jonn shook his head. “You know full well that is a lie. He went to you to tell you that he believed you were involved in the Night of Fallen Crescents, and that if you finished what you had started, he would restore your birthrights to you.”
“Those are both incorrect,” Ardian cut in.
Spectra and Jonn both turned to him.
“Hm, perhaps neither of you know what he intended to say.” Ardian took a cup of water and strode toward his siblings. “Father spoke to me before he left. He said he did not believe Spectra would give him a chance to speak, but he wanted to try to talk her into leaving the king’s service, and in return he would take the same vow that I had made—to leave the rebellion, to become chaste, and to walk in the sandals of the Men of Robes.”
Jonn snorted into his chalice.
Ardian stopped a stride from his sister, his eyes never straying from her own. “Did our father ever get a chance to tell you the parable that the High Valkor of Xyr told him? The one of the young knight running from a pack of deinonychs?”
Spectra tapped the hilt of her sword with a finger. “He did not get the chance.”
Ardian licked his lips. “Well, in the story, there is a young knight. He is fleeing through the forest as a pack of deinonychs chase after him. They are closing quickly, being that they are much quicker than him. He stops at a cliff and notices vines hanging over its side. Below the cliffs, there is an ocean, but he notices the fins belonging to a drift of mer. The mer notice him, and eagerly await to see if he jumps. Halfway down the cliff, within arms’ reach of the vines, are some emeralberry bushes.”
“What an absurd situation,” Jonn scoffed.
Ardian’s eyes did not waiver toward their brother. “The point of the parable is not to tell a story. It is to have the listener examine themselves, to decide what they would do in the situation, no matter how ridiculous it seems. What is your instinct, sister, if you were in that inescapable predicament? If you were the young knight, would you turn to fight the deinonychs? Or would you choose to have the mer in the waters tear you apart?”
Spectra’s mind burned with a brief thought. Jonn was correct that the situation was absurd, but part of her wondered what she would do.
“I would fight,” Spectra answered. “Better to die an honorable death on my feet and face the deinonychs. I might be able to take one with me, or at the least cripple one, if I had a proper sword.”
Ardian set his chalice on the balcony beside her. “Before meeting you in Valdoon, our father told me that he never thought of himself as the young knight. Instead, he thought about what each one of his children would do if we were the knight. He realized, with much regret, that he had taught each of us to stand and fight. He did not think any of us had any choice because of how much he had forced that instinct upon us.”
“He taught us honor and courage,” Jonn snapped. “Something which you apparently have forsaken.”
Ardian reached out and grabbed Spectra’s hand.
“Father told me he had heard you were an overmaster in the king’s Supreme Council. Although the king was his sworn enemy, he said that part of him felt immense pride. But he was haunted by how you would stay to fight the deinonychs. He should have taught us to climb down those vines, to eat the emeralberries. He said that the parable was a metaphor for knowing that we were mortal, and that we would always be facing our deaths, but there was an option to climb down that vine, to eat something truly satisfying, and to enjoy the time that the gods allowed us to have. He was going to appeal to you one more time, to see if he could convince you to climb down that vine, and to see if you would teach others to do the same, rather than to teach them to die on their feet. If we die a warrior’s death, we may all fail to find any enjoyment or fulfillment in this life.”
Spectra was speechless for a few moments, though she could feel her mind tumbling in thought at Ardian’s words.
The sound of Jonn tossing another chalice across the chamber severed her thoughts like a sharpened sword. Spectra withdrew her hand from her twin.
“It is too late for me to be that kind of person,” Spectra responded. “And yes, I may be teaching others to be the same way, but I don’t live in a world where I can afford to eat emeralberries. The world is cruel, and it needs me and the people I mentor to bring it to peace through force.”
Ardian lowered his head. “Well, I was not expecting to change who you are.” Spectra noticed his voice crack as he choked on the last couple of words. Her brother cleared his throat, his fingers lightly brushing against his scars. “I wanted to deliver to you our father’s final message, but I also wanted to tell you that I am leaving now to return to Mariannas, with no intention to return to the lands of Valkalor for the remaining years of my life. Like you, I have disavowed the name Corvane. I do not intend to stay in Merkon for tonight’s celebration.”
“Good.” Jonn pushed off the balcony and approached Ardian, getting close enough to press their foreheads together. “Because of men like you we were never able to escape our exile and conduct a proper war against the Crown. Know that both Spectra and myself no longer consider you our kin.”
Ardian stepped back, eyes fixed on Spectra. “You know where to find me, if ever you wish to tell me otherwise.”
“Do not wait for the message,” Spectra told him.
Ardian’s thinned face fell. Spectra felt as if she had thrust a dagger into her own heart.
Just go, she mentally willed him. I must be harsh right now. If I give you hope, you will stay. And if you stay, you will die, along with everyone else.
Ardian lowered his head again as he spun and strode from the room.
Jonn smacked the cup Ardian had left on the railing over the side. “So, where were we, before that man interrupted us?”
Spectra cleared her throat and felt her heart harden to stone as she faced her older brother.
“Since this is the first time I’ve spoken with you since you were driven into Mariannas, I came to tell you that I have an offer from the king. I want you to officially renounce all your old rebel ties during the Creation Day celebration tonight. Not only can I ensure that House Corvane receives the royal pardon offered by the king to be here today, but I can also secure for you a prominent position as a Lieutenant Sentinel of the South under Wystan Grimshaw.”
Her brother shook his head. “I can’t believe Wystan accepted that title from your king.”
“He accepted it because the Grimshaws abandoned the rebellion in its early months. They knew you would fail, and that the true power would come from those who supported King Gadrion before and during his final war with the non-men. Because of their loyalty, the king allowed the Grimshaws to claim half of the land from your House and the other rebels. He earned that title.
“I can still get you enough favor that you can be a part of the king’s court and fight alongside him in the only war that will matter. Maybe, if you demonstrate your loyalty as Lieutenant Sentinel, you can get some of the old Corvane lands returned to you.”
Jonn gestured across his chambers to the two knights at the door. As they marched forward, their armor clanged noisily with each step they took.
“I am not going to take any offer from you or the king,” Jonn decisively told her. “I will still attend the celebration on the Ring of the Faithful to honor Wystan’s accession to Lord Sentinel, because Wystan has promised me and the other former rebels that we can return to his lands to live out our days. After that, I don’t want to see you again.”
“The Lord Sentinel offered you a place to live? Is that all? My offer could be much better.”
“I told you, I am accepting no offer from the king. We only trust southerners. If Wystan wants to make me one of his lieutenants, then I will accept it only from him, so long as the title was not ordered by Gadrion.”
Spectra felt her heart thump faster. She saw Rathburn subtly raise an eyebrow from next to the door. He awaited her orders on whether or not to kill everyone in the room, and she signaled to him to stand down by moving her cloak over the hilt of her sword.
“Don’t be a fool, Jonn. With Ardian disavowing Corvane, that makes you the last primary heir. If you continue to oppose our king, then your House is on a path to being lost to history.”
“At least it will fall with honor, something it has needed since you left us in shame.” Her brother turned to his knights. “See the overmaster and undermaster out of here. If they attempt to return, treat them as hostiles.”
Spectra held up a hand to halt the advance of the knights. “Last chance. You are making a mistake by turning down my offer.”
“It’s my turn to renounce you, Spectra. I do not acknowledge our blood ties. You may as well be a Shrake.”
Spectra was surprised to feel her veins grow hot at his words.
His stubbornness was going to get him killed.
And he was embracing a destiny of their House collapsing into nothingness.
Spectra stomped toward the guards, stopping just before she was within a sword’s length of them. “We won’t need an escort out. I will see you at the Infinity Gate.”
She stepped through the knights and left Jonn at a fast clip. Rathburn fell into step at her side. The knights managed to keep up, following to make sure they left the premises.
A large knight at the exit opened the doors. Spectra noticed he was wearing a bright blue cape to match the Corvane colors and had a prominent tyrannosaur head carved into his right spaulder.
“Sir Fendor,” Spectra identified him. “I should have known you’d follow Jonn here.”
Fendor gestured toward the street. “My sword swings where he commands. I’m hoping he will soon command it in your direction.”
Spectra halted next to him and Rathburn stopped at her side.
Fendor glared at Rathburn. “Do you need your undermasters to do your fighting for you now?”
“I don’t need him,” Spectra said. “But when someone isn’t worth my time, Rathburn takes care of them. He’s like a starving titanon that constantly needs fed.”
Rathburn licked his lips and tapped his daggers excitedly.
Fendor continued to stare down Rathburn for a few moments longer before stepping back.“When Lord Corvane wills it, we will see whose blades satiate their hunger first.”
“Come, Undermaster.” Spectra lightly tapped Rathburn’s arm to make sure he followed her into the streets.
They angled their way through the crowds of excited pilgrims, a third person falling into step after a few blocks. Out of her peripheral vision, Spectra noticed one of her other undermasters, Cinderr Rosh, who had dark hair tied into the braids of a warrior, similar to her own. Spectra’s skin was slightly lighter than Cinderr’s, and Cinderr had a prominent dimple in her chin and a scar from an acid burn on one corner of her forehead.
“Who was that large knight outside of the Corvane residence?” Cinderr inquired.
“That was Sir Fendor, a tyrannosaur melder. He is someone you should keep an eye on at the Creation Day celebration.”
“I committed him to memory.”
“What do you have to report?”
“I have finished placing Crescent Guards outside of the residences of the Klandesses, Akechis, and Vorcastles. With the supplements from the Reclaimed Guard, we have enough men to follow everyone they brought with them, even the servants.”
“Good.”
“We have enough remaining swords to watch the Corvanes.”
“We leave the Corvanes alone for now.”
They emerged from the streets into an expansive plaza in the city’s center. Thousands of citizens sprawled out before them, dancing and singing while wearing the costumes of various species of saurians.
Spectra led her two undermasters to the palace at the other end. Its prominent towers stretched into the sky, rivaling even the buildings of Rudana. Spectra couldn’t help but take note of the dozens of archers on the battlements, their eyes scanning the crowd suspiciously.
A pair of knights allowed them through a door in the palace wall that led into a garden courtyard.
“Undermaster Rathburn and I must go meet with the king,” Spectra announced. “We will then join the king’s guardsmen in the parade across the Genesis Bridge. Rathburn will rendezvous with you during the celebration while I will be with the king on his balcony overlooking the Infinity Gate. Do you know your assignment?”
“I oversee the protection of the queen and the children,” Cinderr recalled. “I’ll stay posted near the stage on the opposite end of the Ring of the Faithful from the king.”
“Very good. You may as well go check on the king’s children to make sure they are ready.” Spectra dismissed Cinderr, who went down a separate corridor once they entered the palace.
The king was waiting for them in a large chamber across a long banquet table. He was concluding his lunch and waved them to the chairs nearest him.
King Gadrion finished taking a bite out of his steak before pushing his plate aside. “How did you fare in your conversation with Lord Corvane?”
“He did not accept your offer, my king. I doubt he would want to accept the pardon you offered him to bring him to the city in the first place.”
Gadrion looked around to make sure there were no servants or knights in the room. “That makes everything easier for us. Sir Fendor launches his attack against the queen, without knowing we are behind it, which allows us to credibly declare that the rebels have come to Merkon to assassinate me and my family. While he does that, we slaughter every last one of them on the balcony. The rebellion ends today, with maybe a few months of sweeping up their remnants, and we can begin implementing the final phases of our preparations for the war against the non-men without worrying about their interference. Over the next few years, we spread propaganda to our people that the rebels planned the assassination from Mariannas with the non-men, and cultivate their anger to make our preparations for the final war. Depending on political conditions, we can bring my shadow queens and heirs into the fold of the Royal Family.”
“The kingdom will never forget this day,” Spectra agreed, noting that Rathburn was not even pretending to hide his excited grin from across the table.
“Did you tell Undermaster Rosh about any of our plans?”
Spectra shook her head. “She is not ready to be brought into your full confidence with Undermaster Rathburn and myself.”
Gadrion studied her face. “And how do you feel about your brother falling tonight?”
Spectra took a moment to steel her emotions. She was aware that Gadrion could sense her feelings through the power of his crown.
He would know that every word she spoke next was true.
“My family betrayed you. House Corvane deserves to fall.”
***
Cinderr
Cinderr relinquished her weapons to the knights outside the princess chambers and announced herself as she entered.
“Get away from me!” one of the princesses was shouting. “I don’t want to change my hair!”
Sighing internally, Cinderr knew exactly which princess was resisting the handmaids even before she entered the sleeping chambers. It was a conflict that the young woman would never be able to win, despite her efforts.
Princess Kendra threw the brush against the far wall. The wooden handle splintered upon impact and the two handmaids ducked.
Relief crossed the faces of the handmaids when they saw Cinderr standing in the doorway.
“Undermaster Rosh,” one of them greeted with exasperation saturating her tone. “May you please tell the princess that it would be improper for her to wear the braids of a warrior to the celebration? She must have her hair down, like her sister.”
“No,” Kendra corrected, spinning toward Cinderr. “You will tell them that I can present myself however I wish.”
Kendra was still wearing her battle leathers from her morning training. Her hair was indeed tightly hugging the side of her skull, the braids slightly disheveled from wearing a helmet. Most of her braids were auburn, save for one that was a silver hue, a trait that she had received from her mother’s side of the family.
Despite their bright green color, the princess’s eyes burned like flames as they regarded her. “Tell them that the king declared that he would not be marrying me in the future to any lords, so I am a warrior more than I am a princess. And I sure as fuck am not wearing any more dresses!”
Cinderr felt her mouth go dry. Why couldn’t she have arrived just fifteen minutes later so she would not have to deal with this? There was nothing worse than a disagreeable princess sixteen life years of age.
“Did the king himself declare his preferences?” Cinderr inquired.
The handmaids exchanged unsure glances before one of them mustered the courage to respond. “Well, no, but tradition dictates a high level of decorum.”
“Fuck decorum,” Kendra snarled. “I want the kingdom to see me as I am. I want the knights to look at me as one of their own.”
Cinderr stepped toward the princess and placed a hand on her shoulder. “My princess, today your father is expecting to not only honor Wystan Grimshaw and his new title, but he will be receiving the official declarations of allegiance from the former rebels while he pardons them. You must respect that he will not want you to draw attention from those victories. How about you keep your hair as you want it, but put on the dress?”
Kendra looked over at the two handmaids, who shrank back a step under her gaze. “I hate when you bring up my father’s affairs.”
“As a princess, even a warrior princess, you still have a duty to your father, the king.” Cinderr noticed Kendra’s face soften as her eyes stared into hers for a few moments.
“All right. I will wear the dress, but I keep the braids. And I can have a sword.”
“A sword won’t work with your dress. But you can have a dagger.”
Kendra nodded. “All right. And you’ll be by my side?”
Cinderr thought she detected something beyond hope in Kendra’s tone, but decided not to overanalyze it.
“Yes, I’ll ride beside you across the Genesis Bridge. I promise.”
“I’ll hold you to that oath, Undermaster.”
“Very good. I came here to make sure you understood that I will not be at your side throughout the entire celebration. I have other duties to attend. But you need to listen to any guards that stand at your side.”
Kendra smirked. “I will listen to your knights, and I’ll make sure no harm comes to them.”
Cinderr mirrored her smile. “I appreciate that. I like all of my men alive. I will see you in a couple of hours when we leave.” She left Kendra and strode over to the adjacent sleeping chambers.
The younger princess, Cerelia, was sitting with her eyes sweeping across a book while her handmaids casually brushed her golden hair. “She always makes things more difficult than they need to be,” Cerelia commented.
“Your sister likes things a different way. What are you reading?”
“Some early history of the Tollax Dynasty.” The princess kept a hand on her page while she laid the book on her lap. “You won’t have to worry about me listening to the guards, Undermaster. I know what is expected of me.”
“I’m pleased to hear that. You’ve always been great at obeying your father.”
Cerelia’s face wrinkled up. “I worry for my mother, though. One of her handmaids tells me she is sick.”
Cinderr frowned. “Do you know what ails her?”
“No. But she has not come to check on us since she arrived.”
“I’ll see to her.”
“Thank you, Undermaster.”
Cinderr left the princesses chamber and grabbed her weapons from the guards.
Aside from Kendra’s tantrum, she did not see any reason to worry about the king’s two daughters, at least for now.
Having all the former rebels in the same city did worry her.
She ordered one of the guards to check on the queen and Prince Jaronas, then report their status to Overmaster Spectra.
She needed to check in with her men watching the rebels. She did not have time to deal with the Royal Family.
Part 2
Cinderr
The people scattered as the tyrannosaur pounded its way across the Genesis Bridge. It snarled when bystanders weren’t moving fast enough, prompting the occasional scream or curse. Despite how chaotic the crowd became, the tyrannosaur slowed just enough to avoid stepping on anyone.
Cinderr masked her amusement at the panicking civilians. She sat high on her destrier, sweeping the crowd with her eyes for any sign of threats.
Typically, the fifty meter wide bridge would offer more than enough room for the throngs of religious pilgrims marching to the Infinity Gate, but the space was pushed to its limits as the royal procession of a hundred men and saurians forced their way through. The tyrannosaur was in the front to clear the way, fully adorned in battle leathers and with a spear-wielding rider perched on its saddle. Behind it were dozens of men-of-arms surrounding the palanquins and chariots holding not just the Royal Family, but other families of high esteem. A half dozen deinonychs, the largest of the raptor races, defended their rear, followed by thousands of worshippers who wished to follow them to the Gate.
Although the back of the tyrannosaur was not an ideal view, Cinderr felt secure knowing it was a mere twenty meters from her. She wore her full metal shell armor, painted in black, with dark green trim to match the House colors of the king.
Kendra rode beside her, attempting the appearance of confidence despite constantly griping about her uncomfortable plum dress. “I hope the tyrannosaur shits on us and I am forced to change into something more practical,” she grumbled.
Cinderr snorted but kept her face stoic, reminding herself that the cheering masses on either side of them were watching. The people were so packed together that she could not discern the gray stones of the bridge or the waist-high railing that kept the people from being shoved into the churning lake below.
“Perhaps the days are not far when you will be able to wear what you want, my princess.”
“I want armor and a sword so these people would think of me as a knight, not a weak princess.”
Cinderr glanced over at the carriage beside them, noting that the window was closed. She doubted that Cerelia had heard that remark on the other side.
“There is nothing wrong with being a princess from time to time,” Cinderr reminded her. “And sometimes it’s useful to use your status to help your father on nights like this, which are important for his reign. Tonight, he will bring stability to the south.”
“Would stability allow you to stop traveling there on your missions and focus more of your time training me?” Kendra asked, her eyes on the crowd as she gave a few obligatory waves.
“The crown requires me to be in more places than the south. If I’m not there, I will still have missions in the center or north.”
A growing cacophony of shrieking erupted overhead. Despite herself, Cinderr turned and watched as hundreds of pterahawks and quetzalcoatluses swooped by the sides of the bridge. The crowd erupted at the sight and many children tried in vain to reach out to touch them. A trail of wind, propelled by the diving creatures, swept over them.
The quetzalcoatluses were the easiest to linger upon. They were the largest known flying creatures in the world, with wingspans stretching as far as six men. Cinderr observed the prominent crests on the backs of their skulls that resembled crowns, to serve as a reminder to all creatures that gazed upon them of their status as the royalty of the sky realm. In addition, Cinderr noted their membranous wings, which were pulled taut like the sails of a ship and barely flapped as the wind collided with them. Their elongated beaks clapped opened and shut in echoing clacks, eliciting a roar of approval from the masses on the bridge.
Cinderr forced herself to rediscipline her eyes to continue assessing the crowd for threats.
“I don’t understand Creation Day.” Kendra released one hand from her horse to reassuringly pat the bulge of the dagger hidden beneath her layers of clothing. “We don’t even know if any men were around to see what happened at the beginning of time, so why do they just assume that the Infinity Gate is where the gods sent all life into our world?”
“I don’t share those assumptions, but this day is the highlight of the year for the kingdom’s most devout, so the king makes a point of being seen in Merkon every few years to remind the people of his humility before the gods.”
Kendra laughed. “My father never talks about the gods, and I doubt he has ever felt humble.”
“Your father is wise enough to know that perception is often more important than reality, Princess. Even if he does not feel the humility, he must look the part.”
The tyrannosaur grumbled. A group of people parted before them.
Cinderr didn’t notice the deafening roar of the waterfall amidst the crowd noise, until she reached the end of the bridge where it merged into a massive stone ring, curving around the enormous hole in the lake. The ring was made of the same gray stone as the bridge and was indistinguishable from it, save for the flowing water running through the hundreds of arches at its base. The orange and crimson colors of the sunset began to illuminate the stonework and reflected captivatingly off the water.
Despite her usual discipline, even Cinderr could not help but take in the sight of the Infinity Gate.
The Gate was the deepest hole in the known world. No one knew how far it went, or for that matter if it ended at all. When the water level of the Merkon Lake was high enough, it would pour over the sides of the chasm, splashing down over cliffs of rocks before disappearing into absolute darkness. Over a millennia, many men had tried to climb into the abyss, but no one returned. One sect of Men of Robes often preached that the Infinity Gate was really a portal that swallowed the souls of men and transported them into the place where life had begun—the Divine Fields.
Cinderr could tell from the thousands of people standing along the several kilometers of the ring surrounding the void that these beliefs were still deeply ingrained in the commoners.
The tyrannosaur stalked to the side of a stage that had been set up next to the edge of the ring. The stage faced the crowd with the cascading waterfalls at its back. A half dozen Men of Robes stood upon it, their leader, the aging High Valkor of Merkon, positioned at their center.
“I’m afraid, Princess, that you and the other Royal children must go greet the High Valkor. Your father arrived earlier and is already on his balcony.”
A pair of knights stepped forward to take Kendra’s reins.
“I’ll find you when this is over so we can train,” Kendra vowed. “I need to swing my sword at something.”
“I look forward to it.”
Cinderr discreetly swung herself off of her destrier and lightly pushed her way into the throngs, watching as Kendra and the carriages continued their march through the congregation and toward the beaming face of the High Valkor.
***
Gadrion
The roar from the crowds rippled around the ring of the Infinity Gate, reaching the opposite end within seconds.
The crescendo of the people was what drew King Gadrion to the edge of his balcony. He placed both hands on the railing, squinting as he tried to discern his family’s convoy from among the thousands of people. It did not help that hundreds of pterahawks and quetzals were constantly flying through his view.
“Try this, my king.”
Gadrion grabbed the monocular Spectra extended to him. He peered through its end, tracking the telescopic view until he clearly saw the stage.
His daughters, Kendra and Cerelia, strode onto the stage behind their older brother, Prince Jaronas, and returned the bow of the High Valkor and his Men of Robes. The monocular was powerful enough that, even through the twilight, Gadrion could see that Jaronas did not hide his disdain for the moment, and even Kendra failed to look interested.
The only one of his children who seemed to enjoy herself was Cerelia. She excitedly turned to wave to the crowd with one hand, a large book tucked under her other arm.
Gadrion used the monocular to scan the crowd behind his children.
“Where is the queen?” he demanded.
Spectra raised her own monocular. “She was falling ill before we left. Her handmaids told me they would do what they could to get her here.”
A squawlk from overhead prompted Gadrion to step away from the railing’s edge, allowing a gargoyle-like pterahawk to make its landing. Its claws scraped audibly against the stone as it struggled to find balance. Its hot breath sent the smell of fish into their nostrils.
Spectra grabbed the small tube strapped to its leg before the pterahawk had a chance to fold its leathery wings to its sides. She unscrewed the end and dumped out the piece of parchment onto her hand.
The overmaster’s eyes raked back and forth as she read the note, then she waved off the knights to their rear. Gadrion heard the clanking of their metal shells as they obediently stepped beyond earshot.
“It’s in regards to Queen Deama.” Spectra handed the note to Gadrion. “The handmaids say she is unable to make a public appearance.”
The note made a crinkling noise as Gadrion closed it tightly into his fist and aggressively shooed the pterahawk. The beast’s wings beat the air in panic as it fell over the side and flew away.
Gadrion’s reaction was a show for the pterahawk melder and others who were watching them. Only Spectra was aware he could not feel any actual emotion, save for when the crown fed him the emotions of those around him.
“The queen is not ill. She took more of that stain.”
Spectra licked her lips. “I assume that to be correct, my king.”
Gadrion tossed the crumpled paper over the balcony edge. “I should have done something about this drug over the last few years. Deama is missing more events. I’m sure the people have taken notice.”
“If you’d like, I can find out where she is getting it and cut off her supply.”
“It’s too late now. We needed her to be here.” He leaned in close to whisper, “She was supposed to be on the stage when Fendor made his move. She is our entire justification for what is about to happen. With Deama absent, Fendor may go after my heirs instead.”
The glinting crown on Gadrion’s head revealed to him Spectra’s growing anxiety.
“My men in the crowd can still eliminate Fendor before he launches his attack. Rathburn was going to ambush the southerners anyway, so we can fold Fendor into that attack. The fighting can be convincing enough to justify what we do on the balcony.”
Gadrion considered the new scenario. Should he allow Fendor to attack and possibly slaughter one or more of his children?
The king spun on his heel, facing the interior of the balcony. Most of it was shaded beneath a domed roof, with dozens of men standing behind him.
He signaled to a pterahawk melder. The melder sprinted in their direction.
The king extended his hand as the man arrived. “Parchment.”
The melder reached into his pocket and withdrew a fresh piece of paper and quill. Spectra grabbed the bottle of ink from him and uncorked it. The melder removed himself from earshot and turned so that his eyes would be unable to see what the king was writing.
Gadrion stepped to the railing and used it to lay out the paper.
“It will be difficult to time everything, so I want us to stop Fendor now,” Gadrion told her. “He doesn’t know you and I are the ones who manipulated him into the attack, so we cannot message him ourselves. Your undermasters will have to kill him. While they move on him, let’s start our celebration early to ensure we conclude our ceremony with the lords. Hopefully we will prevent any of my children from being hurt.”
“What if Fendor strikes early?”
Gadrion continued hastily scrawling his note. “Fendor is a disciplined man. But should he attack early then my children die, and we move on to Prince Ethan being the sole heir, or one of my shadow heirs. The result will be the kingdom believing even more strongly in the destruction of the rebellious southern Houses and the non-men than if the queen had fallen.”
The crown flushed his mind with the maelstrom of emotions that poured out of Spectra as he spoke the words.
“I know you feel trepidation.” Gadrion stopped his quill and faced her. “Although my children are useful to secure the support of the powerful Houses before the war with the non-men, I can still find another way to solve that problem later. Stopping Fendor is easier, but not necessary to achieve our ultimate ends.”
He felt Spectra harden her emotions and watched as she straightened her back. “Yes, my king. Forgive me for my moment of weakness.”
“I value your sentiments, Overmaster.” Gadrion dipped the quill and resumed his writing. “It reminds me that I sometimes need to consider what others feel.”
Gadrion handed Spectra the quill and rolled the parchment. He signaled to the pterahawk melder. Moments later, Gadrion heard another shriek of a pterahawk landing on the railing behind him.
He tucked the parchment into the tube on the pterahawk’s ankle. He stared the beast in the face, knowing the melder would hear him through the beast’s ears.
“This is for Undermaster Cinderr Rosh only. Do not deliver it to anyone else, or I will slit your throat and toss you through the Infinity Gate. Is that clear?”
The pterahawk’s head reared back and it hesitatingly made a cackling noise before bobbing its head.
***
Cinderr
“Undermaster Rosh.”
Cinderr had dismounted her horse and taken up a position beside the stage. She noticed a man approach with a dual crescent sigil on his spaulder identical to her own.
She easily discerned who he was from his narrow face and beak-like nose.
“Undermaster Rathburn,” she acknowledged, trying to keep her voice low as the High Valkor began to preach from the top of the stage. The crowd had shushed, listening intently to his every word.
“We must speak.” Rathburn lightly grabbed Cinderr by her arm and led her away. Cinderr reluctantly turned to stare up at the king’s children, knowing she should not be far from them.
“If you speak quickly.” Cinderr shrugged out of Rathburn’s grasp.
“We have intelligence that House Vorcastle has men in the crowd planning to disrupt the ceremony by going after the Royal Family.”
Cinderr frowned. “The Vorcastles would be mad to attempt something here. This is a holy site.”
“They’re desperate. You and Overmaster Spectra have hunted them and their allies to the point where there are almost none of them left.”
Her mind burned as she considered how an assassination attempt would play out. “There are too many civilians for them to control every scenario. If enough people get hurt, they’ll never be able to gain the favor of the people.”
“They may believe that a public incident is just what they need to reignite the rebellion. The south is still angry that the king has worn the crown nearly two decades and has not made good on his word that he would wipe out the non-men.”
Cinderr’s eyes scrutinized the area around her. No one looked suspicious to her or seemed to be focused on the king’s children.
“I only know what Overmaster Spectra told me.” Rathburn shrugged. “I had some of our men sweeping the crowd. They’ve identified loyalists to the Vorcastles and to their old allies in House Akechi and House Klandess.”
Cinderr rapped her fingers along the hilt of her sword and bit her lower lip.
An attack by the former rebels on the Ring of the Faithful during the Creation Day ceremony seemed too bold.
Why hadn’t her men who’d been following them reported anything suspicious?
“We should be sure about a threat before we take extreme action,” Cinderr finally agreed.
Rathburn’s lips partly lifted into a smile. “Would you care for me to show you where we found a cluster of Vorcastles?”
Cinderr felt her blood harden.
Was Rathburn’s intelligence credible?
The Men of Robes were beginning to hum and sing.
Cinderr walked over to a pair of knights. “Sir Argold, Sir Jace.”
The knights stood straighter upon her approach.
“Yes, Undermaster?” Argold responded.
“I need you to discreetly remove Princess Cerelia from the stage and evacuate her to the palace.”
The two knights moved without hesitation.
“Why just Cerelia?” Rathburn inquired.
“She is the one least needed on that stage that we can remove without disturbing the crowd, so we would not lose any favor with the king if we are wrong.” Cinderr gestured toward a wagon with a cage built onto its back. Several empty manacles dangled from the crisscrossing bars on its roof and sides. “Before you show me where you found the Vorcastles, let’s tell the knights at the prisoner wagon to prepare themselves in case we need to detain anyone.”
***
Gadrion
Gadrion ignored the proceedings on the opposite end of the ring. The pounding of the waterfall at his back did nothing to distract him as he beheld the men arrayed before him.
He was at the head of the table, flanked by Spectra and his brother, Prince Eduart. As usual, Eduart was heartily drinking from his chalice, dripping red wine into his blond beard.
Seated in several rows adjacent to them were loyalists from the northern and central regions, which included Lord Sentinel Egar Harward, the portly father of Queen Deama.
The far end of the table was where the new Lord Sentinel of the South, Wystan Grimshaw, sat. Wystan was a short man in stature, but made up for it in muscle. Like most knights from his region, he was accustomed to frequent attacks by non-men raiding parties, and had seen his fair share of battle in defending the southern flank of the kingdom.
Beside Wystan and the Grimshaws were a dozen other heads of southern Houses.
Among them was Brayt Vorcastle, Renzo and Noboru Akechi, Rogen Klandess, and Jonn Corvane.
The latter man had his large arms folded across his barrel chest while one hand stroked his graying onyx beard. His eyes stared like daggers at Spectra.
Gadrion had no doubts that Jonn was ignoring everything that was being said. He wished that the crown could give him the specific thoughts of the man, imagining that he wanted to slay Spectra on the spot.
“It pleases me to host you all tonight,” Gadrion told the assembled men. “We are here, in sight of the gods who watch us through the Infinity Gate, to honor the promotion of Sir Wystan of House Grimshaw to his rightful title of Lord Sentinel.”
The men slapped their hands in pleased acknowledgment along the table’s surface. Many of them raised their chalices and hollered their congratulations to Wystan. The man himself ran a hand through his oiled hair before taking a large swig from his chalice.
Gadrion took a drink of his own.
“My short rule of this kingdom has seen its share of turmoil,” Gadrion continued. “I had to take over for my father after he unexpectedly fell to illness. Tragically, I failed to address the concerns of many of you, and that miscommunication led to a series of unfortunate conflicts that saw us lose people we loved.” Gadrion felt anger from the rebel Houses. As he raised his chalice in the direction of Eduart, he felt that same frustration. “My brother and I will never forget the Night of Fallen Crescents, when our siblings fell under the blades of assassins.”
The crown told Gadrion that many of the men on the far end of the table were barely holding their tongues.
“In the years since our fighting ended, we have reinvested most of the Royal Treasury into reinforcing the southern defenses, and have rotated northern knights along the front lines to defend the lands of our brethren who felt ignored in the early stages of my rule. We have seen a sharp decline in raids by the Cazarathians.”
The men applauded once more.
On the far end of the Ring of the Faithful, dozens of archers released flaming arrows into the Infinity Gate. After noticing the signal, hundreds of pterahawks and quetzals appeared at high altitudes along the horizon. They each dragged lanterns chained to their ankles. The light reflected off the clouds above them, then swirled as the flying beasts spiraled down for the open maw of the Infinity Gate.
The crowd roared as the pterahawks and quetzals flew in tight circles along the interior of the Gate, the light from the lamps streaking against the walls of the cascading waterfalls.
Explosions echoed across the abyss as fireworks launched and detonated.
One of Gadrion’s knights made a show of sprinting from the stairs in the king’s direction. Gadrion held up a hand to signal that he would continue speaking momentarily, leaning in toward the man.
“Everything is ready, my liege,” the knight shouted over the distant explosions.
A rainbow of colors from the firework detonations lit up the balcony and table around him. Gadrion imitated a look of concern and surveyed the men at the table.
“I have disturbing news.” Gadrion slammed his chalice down. “Despite the peace I was just speaking of, I have received word of an attack that is underway by men loyal to guests at this table. They came here pretending they wanted my pardons so they could kill us all at once!” Gadrion pointed to the former rebels. “Apprehend those men and their knights.”
“This is absurd!” Jonn yelled, standing and dropping his hand to his weapon. “I know nothing of an attack!”
Gadrion unsheathed his sword. “My knights are being slaughtered in the Ring by men you hid in the crowd! I call on those loyal to the crown to arm themselves and stand beside me!”
A pair of Reclaimed Guards with body-length shields stepped before him, protecting him as every man at the table pulled out their swords or daggers.
At the far end of the Ring, the tyrannosaur roared with menace.
Part 3
Cinderr
The light from the orbiting pterahawks and their lanterns gave inconsistent illumination as Cinderr shoved her way through the crowd. She did her best to stay at Rathburn’s ankles, but the man refused to slow his strides.
She bumped into him when he abruptly halted. Rathburn did not seem to notice, instead pointing at a cluster of men standing at the railing of the ring.
The five men stared up at the stage, ignoring the flying lanterns and the exploding fireworks.
“They are staring directly at the king’s children,” Rathburn observed.
Cinderr traced where the men’s attention was focused and indeed could see that Jaronas and Kendra were still standing on the stage. She did not see Princess Cerelia anywhere.
She spun and grabbed the knight at her rear. “Tell the Reclaimed Guard to evacuate Jaronas and Kendra. Do it now!”
The young knight’s eyes widened but he sprang to action as Cinderr shoved him away.
She turned back to Rathburn. “Let’s get close to those men, but we do nothing unless they make a move. If we are wrong about them, the king will not be pleased at us for disturbing his crowd.”
Rathburn renewed their surge through the onlookers. Most of the people were too preoccupied with what was going on above to notice the knights snaking their way toward the edge of the Ring.
When they got to the balcony, Cinderr nearly pulled her sword out and impaled a pterahawk that abruptly landed next to her. A group of startled citizens yelped and backed away.
“Hold!” Rathburn grabbed her wrist. “It’s a messenger ptera.”
Cinderr glanced down at its ankle.
The cylinder it carried had the dual crescent sigil on its top.
Rathburn pulled the tube from the pterahawk and dumped the message into his hand. He quickly scanned it, his eyes widening before he pushed it toward Cinderr.
Cinderr barely heard Rathburn as she read the note in the surge of light from the fireworks erupting overhead. She felt the ground rumble from the echoing detonations, even feeling her bones rattle beneath her armor.
Her skin grew cold at the words.
“The king says someone is about to attack his heirs.” Cinderr looked up at Rathburn. “You keep moving, I’m going after the prince and princess!”
Cinderr dropped the note and turned before Rathburn was able to dispute her command.
This time she did not hesitate to roughly shove her way through the crowd. Women shrieked and men cursed as she shouldered them aside.
“Move! By order of the king, move!”
Cinderr managed to get most of the way back to the stage without incident. She saw Prince Jaronas riding off on the back of a destrier while Princess Kendra stood beside the prisoner wagon waiting for another horse to be brought to her.
For a moment Cinderr thought that the king’s children were going to be smoothly evacuated.
Then the ground shook as the tyrannosaur bellowed. The crowd shrank away like a torrential wave. The alarm in the air was palpable as hundreds of people began to chatter in apprehension.
The tyrannosaur agitatedly swung its head from side to side. The rider on its back plummeted from his mount and landed with a back-shattering crunch onto the stone ground, a snapped arrow protruding from his neck.
A chill ran from the base of her neck into her extremities.
Someone had killed the tyrannosaur melder with an arrow.
No one was commanding the giant saurian, which now was in distress as the mental connection with its controlling knight had been abruptly severed.
With a deft shove, Cinderr propelled an elderly man aside and bolted into the bustling expanse as the crowd scrambled to avoid the looming tyrannosaur. A group of daring knights darted towards the colossal beast, thrusting their spears with ferocity as it grunted and writhed in protest.
She veered to the side as the beast swung its head low. She barely ducked with a meter to spare, feeling a burst of wind as the tyrannosaur’s jaws swished overhead. The crowd distantly shrieked, but Cinderr tried not to think about how close she was to being crushed by the animal.
“Get the princess out of here!” Cinderr shouted, waving to the knights at the prisoner wagon.
The knights were not looking her way, their gazes transfixed on the tyrannosaur.
Kendra locked eyes with her, noticing her waving hands.
Then the knights looked up in synchronization. Kendra pointed and shouted, but the crowd was drowning out her words.
Cinderr looked over her shoulder, realizing the tyrannosaur had regained its composure. Its gaze locked on Kendra.
It looked determined, completely under the control of a melder.
But the only person that should have had a tyrannosaur Melding Clasp was dead.
The tyrannosaur roared. Cinderr felt a hot wave of air wash over her and the stench of decay fill her nostrils.
The beast swept its head across the knights standing in its way, easily knocking them aside. It locked its jaws below the waist of one of the men, effortlessly lifting him into the air and tossing him for several meters.
Cinderr turned away as the tyrannosaur stomped in her wake.
The realization struck her that the beast was not chasing her, but was going afterKendra.
“Get her out of here!”
None of the knights made any effort to reach toward the princess.
Cinderr could feel through the vibrations in the ground and from the scared expressions of the fleeing knights that the tyrannosaur was closing in. She grabbed Kendra’s arm as she arrived, half-dragging her toward the prisoner wagon.
“Get into the cage!” she ordered. “It can’t get you in there!”
Kendra’s verdant eyes sprang toward her. “Wait, what are you going to—”
The princess’s protest was disrupted as Cinderr forcefully shoved her through the cage door.
Cinderr slammed the door shut and ran around the side of the cage. “Go! Get this thing moving!”
She leaped onto the side of the cage and used the bars like a ladder to get to the roof. She crawled to the driver’s bench.
The man sitting there looked behind him and screamed.
Cinderr grabbed the reins and slashed them toward the large, crest-headed parasaurs that were tied to the prisoner wagon. The parasaurs seemed to sense the approaching tyrannosaur and did not argue with her. The wagon jolted as the creatures dug their feet into the ground and sprang forward.
Something heavy collided with the cage in the back, bucking the entire wagon. Cinderr reached back and barely grabbed onto the bars of the cage to prevent herself from being flung from her perch.
The tyrannosaur had smashed its skull into their side. Kendra sprawled to the ground, crawling backwards from the tyrannosaur as it charged again and smacked its head into the cage. The impact dented some of the bars.
Cinderr held on tighter, her body shuddering from the impact.
She tossed the reins back into the driver’s hands. “Take these and get us out of here!”
The crowds on the bridge had thinned out, most of them having gone to the Ring to watch the celebration, but there were still plenty of people who shrieked and dove out of the way as the two parasaurs pulling the wagon smashed their way through the market stalls.
One of the parasaurs lowered its head, colliding into a smaller cart protruding into their path. The cart splintered with the sound of crashing thunder as the parasaur hit it, several of the shards bouncing resoundingly off of Cinderr’s metal shell armor.
The tyrannosaur fell back after its last attack, swerving to avoid the spinning remains of the cart. It let out a menacing growl and rushed towards them from behind, picking up speed with every stride.
***
Rathburn
The distraction from the roaring tyrannosaur allowed Rathburn to make his way through the crowd to where the Vorcastle men were standing.
Rathburn knew full well that these men held no actual intention of attacking the Royal Family.
In fact, they had come here simply to partake in the pilgrimage to see the Infinity Gate.
But their intentions had nothing to do with his orders. He was supposed to slaughter them to further sell the illusion that the former rebel Houses were launching an attack.
Throughout the Ring, the king’s knights were slowly ambushing the men belonging to the rebel Houses. Rathburn heard screaming escalate from different areas in the crowd, the horrified yelling echoing across the gaping, black maw of the Infinity Gate.
He watched as several of the deinonychs, the largest raptors in the kingdom, snarled and weaved their way through the mass of humanity to another group of men. More screaming erupted as the deinonychs tackled them to the ground, their jaws clamping onto their victim’s faces and throats while the curved claws of their feet slashed through their abdomens.
In a matter of seconds, Rathburn made it to the five Vorcastles. They were too preoccupied with the commotion around them to notice Rathburn pull out a pair of daggers and begin cutting through their ranks. Two of the men collapsed with canyons sliced through their necks, bursts of blood geysering out into the crowd.
Rathburn moved around them, driving one of his daggers into a third man’s heart before withdrawing it and driving it into the jugular of the fourth man.
The attack had been so unexpected and swift that the fifth man was the only one who managed to pull out his sword.
Without much effort, Rathburn deflected the sword and pierced the man’s side with his right dagger. He twisted hard and repeatedly drove both daggers into the man’s defenseless stomach and ribs, not relenting even as the man dropped his sword and slumped into the railing.
Before the ambush, Rathburn felt as though someone had reached into his chest and clutched his heart, but as he watched the blood flow over his hands from his victims, he felt as if the invisible fist released its grip. His heart began beating again and his breathing grew stronger.
He felt satisfied and relieved in a way he hadn’t felt in months.
When he was sure the man had no remaining strength, Rathburn dropped his daggers and grabbed the man by his legs. He laughed as he picked the man off the ground and bent him back over the railing. The man’s fingers weakly reached out for Rathburn, but he was unable to grip anything as the blood rushed out of his body.
The man somersaulted over the edge, then disappeared into the darkness of the cliffs.
***
Gadrion
The rebels wielded their blades and attacked the men they believed to be loyal to the king.
Gadrion watched his knights unite and converge toward their foes from behind the wall of Reclaimed Guard shields in front of him. The lights of the lanterns strapped to the pterahawks glinted off the dozens of swords as they aggressively cut through the air, causing crimson fluid to spray toward the sky.
Spectra sidestepped most of the fighting, her gaze fixated toward the far end of the table. Her brother, Jonn, was engaged with one of the Reclaimed, holding his own even though his opponent was younger and faster. Jonn grabbed hold of the knight, turned him around, drove a dagger into his throat, and swiped the blade hard enough to completely open his neck.
Spectra swung her sword in a wide arc, aiming for Jonn’s side.
The last Corvane heir spun toward the attack and twisted the knight in his arms intercept his sister’s swing. Spectra’s sword cracked into the unlucky knight, but the man had already collapsed lifelessly.
Before Jonn could balance himself, Spectra kicked him hard in the chest, knocking him back into the table. The overmaster pressed her attack with a series of swings.
Jonn managed to stop each attack before rolling along the end of the table.
Gadrion pushed the Reclaimed Guard from behind and the men obediently marched forward. They shoved past any man who stood in their way, clearing a path for Gadrion to maneuver in Spectra’s direction.
Jonn had recovered from Spectra’s assault and launched his own attack, his blade sparking against his sister’s sword. They both slashed continually at each other, taking turns with retreating and counterattacking.
“Part!” Gadrion ordered.
The two guards did as commanded, separating their shields and turning to protect Gadrion’s flanks.
The king charged forward, thrusting his sword at Jonn’s unprotected back, feeling the tip of his blade separate the flesh of the Corvane heir. The man’s body spasmed as the sword burst through his organs and out his front, splashing Spectra with blood.
Jonn dropped to his knees. The amount of blood spilling out of him was enough to saturate Gadrion’s nostrils with a coppery scent.
Spectra drew back her sword. Gadrion felt the crown feed him her emotions.
Sorrow… Anger…
And fear.
It was Gadrion’s favorite emotion to evoke from people.
He could not be sure what the source of the fear was in Spectra as she finally swung her weapon with all the strength she could muster. Her weapon bit through the head of her brother and ended the primary bloodline of House Corvane.
***
Cinderr
A pair of horses carrying enemy combatants swerved around the tyrannosaur’s legs. The two knights did not acknowledge the giant saurian, closing the gap to the prisoner wagon within seconds.
One knight leaned toward the other to issue commands, the Melding Clasp on his neck igniting with an orange tint even in the dim light of the night.
It was the new tyrannosaur melder.
In the back of her mind, Cinderr recognized the snapping blue cape behind him and the tyrannosaur spaulder on the knight’s shoulder. It was Sir Fendor, the man she had seen conversing harshly with Overmaster Spectra at the Corvane residence.
The second knight spurred his horse forward and it galloped parallel to the cage. He extended his chainmail glove to grab its side.
“Kendra, stay away from the sides!” Cinderr warned.
The wagon turned sharply. Cinderr braced herself, grabbing onto the cage with both hands as one of the parasaurs hit something in their path. More shattered timber burst past her, some of it stinging at her helmet-less head. When it was over, she felt warm fluid trickle down her left cheek.
Cinderr looked back at the knight nearest her and saw that he was climbing his way along the side of the cage toward the rear door.
The door, which Cinderr didn’t have time to lock into place, swung ajar from the previous impact of the tyrannosaur’s skull.
Cinderr rolled onto the cage’s roof and slithered five meters to the knight. Kendra had backed away from where the man was climbing, apparently sensing the danger.
The tyrannosaur bellowed and lowered its head. Cinderr watched as the beast headbutted a protruding sign from a market stall, completely knocking it off the side of the structure and scattering it into the street. A mother barely managed to throw herself and her child behind the stall as the tyrannosaur brushed past them.
Cinderr was careful not to fall through the crisscrossed bars of the cage as she maneuvered herself into position.
The knight looked up just as she grabbed his helmet and smashed it against the bars, the force of her attack vibrating harshly into her hand, but the knight managed to hold on and reached down to retrieve a dagger.
Cinderr rolled away as the man swung for her.
The tyrannosaur roared and stepped up toward the cage’s side. Cinderr grabbed on tightly as the beast sideswiped them.
The wagon temporarily tilted to one side before crashing down. The two rearmost wheels detonated, and Cinderr screamed as the back of the cage slammed into the bridge’s stone road. Kendra shrieked and grabbed onto one of the bench seats, barely stopping herself from sliding out the back door. Sparks flew up at the princess as the metal cage grinded against the stone.
The dagger in the knight’s hand had fallen from his grasp. Instead of going after Kendra, he climbed onto the top of the cage, and aggressively crawled toward Cinderr, careful not to have his feet fall through the bars.
Cinderr tried to get up but the man slammed his body on top of her. Cinderr yelled as she fell back onto the cage, her armor crunching from the impact. Her world temporarily blackened as the back of her head clanged against one of the bars. She nearly lost her grip on the cage, holding on with one hand.
The knight’s fingers grabbed her throat and tightened. Cinderr gasped, still recovering from the blow to her head, unable to raise her hands to fight back.
Her assailant suddenly shouted obscenities and turned from her. Cinderr glanced down, watching as Kendra finished snapping a manacle around the man’s ankle and pulled hard on its chain. Kendra awkwardly yanked his leg through the metal bars.
The knight’s chainmail fist punched toward Cinderr’s face. She just managed redirect it with one of her hands, two of her fingers cracking painfully.
Her enemy twisted around and tried to push his free leg through the bars of the cage to kick at Kendra. He managed to hit Kendra’s arm, dislodging her grip. The princess’s arms flailed as she fell down the incline of the cage, smacking into the bars next to the open door. Kendra quickly pushed off, the sparks stinging her exposed skin like tiny projectiles.
The tyrannosaur fell back and snapped at the doorway. Kendra’s arm muscles tightened as she began to crawl up the bars away from the snarling tyrannosaur jowls.
Cinderr’s vision fully returned as the knight reached down for the manacle on his ankle.
“Hey!”
The man turned as Cinderr shouted to him.
Her fist cracked into his lower jaw. She watched in satisfaction as he sprawled along the roof. He tried desperately to grab onto the cage but could not manage to find purchase.
The wagon bounced and Cinderr grabbed onto the bars as she went temporarily airborne. The knight was not so lucky, landing hard on the edge of the cage and rolling over. The manacle chain snapped taut and prevented him from completely plummeting into the bridge stones.
The knight tried to reach up for his ankle as the metal of his binding dug grotesquely into his skin. His body bounced painfully against the side of the cage, the railing of the bridge swooshing by just centimeters from his skull.
Cinderr dove back toward the driver’s bench. “Give me the reins!” she ordered.
The driver shook his head. “They’re panicked! If I let go, we might lose control of the paras!”
“Then command them to turn hard to the right! Do it now!”
The driver clenched his jaw and did his best to pull. The parasaurs did as commanded and Cinderr held on as the wagon swung hard for the railing.
The man dangling from the side wailed as he watched a pillar rush toward him. He threw his arms in front of himself, but it was futile as the wagon rammed him into the jutting stonework.
Cinderr heard the screeching of metal against stone replace the man’s screams, then saw that most of the knight was no longer clinging to the side of the wagon. Instead, all she saw was the bloodied and dented manacle gripping a severed leg.
“The other side!” Kendra hollered.
Cinderr looked over and watched as Fendor grabbed onto the cage and began to climb up to her.
“Hard left!” Cinderr ordered.
The driver pulled them in the other direction. The people on the road scattered as the parasaurs burst through a barricade of market stalls. Cinderr felt fruit and wood bounce off of them.
Fendor yelped but somehow managed to hold on. He crawled toward Cinderr, assessing that she was the greater threat that needed to be dealt with.
He abruptly stopped as Kendra thrust her dagger through the bars and into his stomach. The princess let out a war cry while she twisted it with all of her strength.
Cinderr reached to her ankle and pulled out a spare dagger. She crawled over to Fendor’s side of the cage before he noticed her approach. She swung her dagger before he could react, embedding the blade into his neck.
The melder’s mouth opened in a silent scream and he tried to pull away. He looked up at her, eyes wide with sudden fear as he realized he had made a mistake.
“Hard left!” Cinderr ordered while withdrawing the knife. “Kendra, release him!”
The driver did as commanded, striking another line of stalls. This time Fendor couldn’t hold on as the stalls disintegrated in front of them. His head cracked hard onto the street and bent unnaturally backwards.
Cinderr closed her eyes tightly, then reopened them once the hard vibrations beneath her stopped.
Kendra screamed below. The cage was now rattling so hard that she was losing her grip, the open door just a meter from her feet.
Cinderr crawled down a few rungs before leaning over the side, reaching in, and grabbing onto one of Kendra’s wrists.
“Hold on!” was all she could coherently shout, while her own skull vibrated painfully against the bars. It felt like the cage was dislodging from the wagon and was about to break off.
She mentally forced herself to hold onto the princess, to not let go despite the pain from the intensely vibrating bars. If she released her, Kendra would fall through the open door, and the tyrannosaur would have her.
She saw the tyrannosaur break through the debris of the stalls before bearing down on them, its jaws open.
It began swinging its head, feeling the loss of a second melder.
“Watch out!”
Cinderr turned her head toward the front of the wagon. The end of the bridge was approaching, and two tyrannosaurs were charging toward them.
No…
She could not believe that they were about to face another ambush.
She had no idea what to do other than hold on.
Cinderr flattened herself against the roof of the cage. Her head shook so harshly that she thought she might break her own teeth.
The tyrannosaurs closed in.
Then the beasts ran past on either side of their wagon, barreling toward the other tyrannosaur.
Cinderr twisted as she watched the tyrannosaurs collide with each other. One managed to latch onto the other’s neck with its jaws.
“They’re…with us!” Cinderr exclaimed.
***
Gadrion
The fighting subsided. The rebels were sprawled on the ground with torrents of blood filtering out from beneath their bodies.
Gadrion set his sword on the table. His crown could not identify any more threats from the people around him.
Spectra’s face was completely red, not just from the exertion of the fight, but the dripping blood of the men she had cut down. Her gaze did not leave the body of her brother as she sat beside it.
“Leave us,” Gadrion commanded his knights. “There are no more enemies among us.”
His men finished stabbing the tips of their swords into the bodies at their feet and took up defensive positions by the balcony entrances, just out of earshot.
On the far end of the Ring, civilians were still screaming. In the back of his mind, Gadrion wondered how many injured or dead commoners he would hear about as a result of the panic.
Gadrion stepped closer to Spectra. “I sense that you don’t know how to feel about killing Jonn.”
Spectra cleared her throat and seemed to suddenly awaken from her stupor. She pushed herself off the ground and got back to her feet.
“I…I…knew that he would die tonight, but seeing the last leader of my former family slain was stranger than I expected.”
Gadrion grabbed an unspilled chalice of wine from the table and handed it to Spectra. She snatched it and chugged the remains of its contents.
“We lost no one of consequence on this balcony.” Gadrion surveyed the remaining lords, seeing that his brother, his father-by-law, and the Lord Sentinel Wystan Grimshaw each appeared unscathed.
“Then our plan worked.” Spectra tossed the chalice aside. It clattered across the stone.
“Yes, everyone here witnessed as I received a warning about the impending attack, and watched as the rebels drew their weapons first to make an attempt against us. And that’s what I’ll ensure they tell others before they leave.”
“Wystan may be the most difficult to convince to follow our narrative,” Spectra noted.
“He just became a hero who helped save his king. The entire south will know that he did that. No matter what he does when he leaves here, they will assume he has fully committed himself to me through that act, and so he might as well embrace his new standing.”
“He would be a fool not to take the praise of the kingdom after saving his king.”
Gadrion sat down on one of the chairs. “Find out what happened with my children. I am not sure if Ser Rosh acted in time.”
“What do we do if any of your children fell?”
The king found another untipped chalice, saw that there was still some wine in it, and took his own drink. He casually set it aside when he was finished.
“We go forward with our original plan, but instead of making a martyr of the queen in order to rally the kingdom to eliminate any remaining rebels and the city of Mariannas, we make martyrs of any of my children.”
Gadrion glanced over at the balcony. He noticed that it was much darker now, with the pterahawks and quetzals no longer swooping around the Infinity Gate with their lanterns. “Either way, we finally have the justification to kill the last of our enemies, and forever consolidate my rule of this kingdom.”
***
Cinderr
Cinderr was pleased that her feet were finally back on ground that wasn’t shaking. She was caught off guard as Kendra threw her arms around her. She hugged the princess back.
“You did so well, Princess.” Cinderr pushed off from her.
Despite her usually intrepid demeanor, Cinderr noticed Kendra angrily swiping away the moisture in her eyes.
“Thank you, Undermaster. They…they would have killed me if you hadn’t done what you did.”
Cinderr embraced the princess again, allowing her to bury her face into her shoulder. “As long as I live, I will give my life for yours, Kendra.”
The princess was quaking in her grip. Cinderr held on long enough for Kendra to compose herself. Then the princess pushed away and ran her hands through her dress. Her voice gradually regained its strength. “This stupid dress got in the way. From now on, I only wear battle leathers or armor. At least something where I can easily access things I can use to stab people.”
Cinderr laughed. “After what just happened, I think we can talk your father into letting you dress more like a knight.”
“And maybe he will let me accelerate my training,” Kendra added. “I helped kill both of those assassins.”
“The driver and the pillar get most of the credit for the first one, but I’ll give you some for getting his hands off my throat. The second one was a little of both of us.”
A handful of knights on horseback rushed over to them.
One of them dismounted from his destrier. “Undermaster Rosh, we need to evacuate the princess.”
Cinderr nodded and turned back to Kendra. “He’s right. You need to get on his horse and fall back to a secure location.”
Kendra grabbed Cinderr’s arm as she turned to begin issuing orders. “Not without you.”
Cinderr was about to berate the princess for wasting time, but she saw the stubborn look in Kendra’s face that she had seen many times before, the look she gave when she insisted that training was not over.
“Don’t make me give you a royal command,” Kendra warned, though her tone indicated she was not threatening.
Sighing, Cinderr gently removed Kendra’s hand. “Very well. I don’t want anything to happen to you after everything I just did to get you across that bridge.”
She ordered one of the other knights to dismount. The knight helped Kendra onto his horse while Cinderr took another one.
“Now give the princess your sword,” she ordered.
The knight removed his sword and handed it over.
Kendra smiled widely as she took the sword and slid it into a sheath on the horse’s side.
Cinderr turned her destrier toward the city. “Keep up with me, Princess.”
“You couldn’t lose me if you tried,” Kendra retorted.
She did not doubt the princess’s sincerity as Cinderr kicked her horse into a full gallop.