~23~
Lyria groaned to herself in disbelief as the first of Adarlan's lords returned to the capital, their forces with them. She was furious with the amount of time it had taken them to raise their armies so far, absolutely enraged. Not only was she livid about the amount of time it had taken them to raise their soldiers, but she was infuriated about just how few men there were in the lords' armies.
How did they honestly expect her to invade Terrasen – and win a war – with only barely three thousand men? Because if the rate of soldiers pouring into the city held steady, that's what the total number of soldiers would add up to, if you could even call them that. She would have been highly surprised if half of them were even trained.
But after she had a chance to thought about, while waiting for more lords to bring their forces to Rifthold, she decided that any surviving soldiers Adarlan had would have had to be rather hardy indeed in order to have survived that last war with the Valg.
What worried Lyria still was the fact that she literally had no idea what sort of conditions, or the numbers they would facing once they reached Terrasen's borders. Lyria suspected though, that Terrasen would actually have very few soldiers as it hadn't had a standing army since Adarlan had invaded twelve years before.
Lyria smirked at the mere thought. When it came down to it, the last King of Adarlan had done the good and proper thing in conquering Terrasen the way he had. She hated the thought of the fire-breathing bitch winning the kingdom's freedom back during the Valg war. All Lyria was doing was re-conquering Terrasen in the name of the glory of Adarlan.
"When do you foresee us marching north?" one of Adarlan's southern lords enquired of her the day after his return to the capital.
"As soon as the rest of the lords arrive, along with their forces," Lyria replied simply. She didn't know the lord's name. Had never cared to learn it nor bothered to learn it. She certainly wasn't going to stoop to learning it now. What a waste of time that would be.
"I don't believe they'll be arriving any time soon," the lord told, looking unbearably anxious. As he surely had good reason to be nervous, especially after Lyria and Dorian had so callously murdered Lord Westfall.
"Oh? And why not?" Lyria questioned, a deceptively sweetly innocent tone to her voice all of a sudden.
"Because all of us southern lords have been discussing among ourselves whether or not to gather our forces," the lord said quietly, nervous as all. "As you can see, some of us thought that it was worth the risk to not raise our forces, while some of us were too scared of you not to."
"Why on earth would any of you be scared of little old me?" Lyria asked, sounding genuine shocked for the first time.
"Because you are one genuinely terrifying woman," the lord said. By now he was wishing he were anywhere but here. Was wondering why he had even bothered pausing to speak to her.
"Before I have you killed for your insubordinance," Lyria said coldly, "you had better give me one extremely compelling reason not to slaughter you and your forces where you stand."
"Because you need my soldiers and myself," he said firmly, with a confidence that he sure as hell did not feel. "You won't have a single chance of conquering Terrasen without us if you kill us. And you don't have the time to drag our army around the country to wrest the control of the rest of Adarlan's forces from the southern lords."
"That may or may not be true," Lyria said coolly, her magic ready to strike the man down if necessary, but what about Adarlan's northern lords? Would their forces be more useful to me? It would certainly be more convenient for me, as their keeps, their territories, are that much closer to the Adarlanian-Terrasenite border."
"Perhaps," another lord said. As Lyria had discussed the upcoming assault on Terrasen with the prominent southern lord, hurrying through the corridors of the castle of Rifthold, several other lords had joined them, eager to know the latest news. "Perhaps they could have proved themselves useful, if their forces had not been so thoroughly decimated during the Valg war. Despite the last two years of rebuilding, Adarlan's northern forces are still alarmingly depleted."
"But even in peacetime, armies remain generally well maintained. Especially so soon after the end of a war," Lyria responded, ice in her tone. "Lords still run border skirmishes on occasion."
"Whenever one of our lords runs a skirmish on Terrasen's southern border," the second lord said, "their forces are immediately repulsed. Ten years ago when his Majesty's late father attacked Terrasen, it was the first time in millennia that Terrasen had fallen to a foreign army for the very first time. Despite a decade of the ravages of conquest, Terrasen's armies remain highly trained. And still extremely determined to maintain their own independence, monarchy and sovereignty."
"Attacking Terrasen now would be tantamount to suicide," the first lord butted in, eager to say his piece and then be done with it and damn the consequences. "I would not be surprised if their spies had already received word of our impending assault. Queen Aelin is probably already gathering her forces to her side, ready to repulse our soldiers once and for all. And they will, you know. Repulse our forthcoming attack on their borders. When it comes down to it, we just don't have enough men to launch an invasion of Terrasen."
At that, Lyria turned her icy cold gaze on the two lords, stubborn determination on their honestly unctuous faces. Political manoeuvrings were their forte, no doubt about it, but Lyria was so thick-minded that they were sure that she wouldn't pick up on their normally silky smooth attacks. Hence the current straight forwardness of their conversation with the extremely terrifying foreign woman. In the backs of their minds, they were beginning to wonder if Lord Davis Westfall had done the right thing by questioning her judgement. Yes, he had also died in the process of asking his questions. But on the other hand, they were beginning to believe that it would be better to die then to live with this woman ruling over them all.
At the lord's comment's about Aelin raising her armies in order to combat their own cobbled together army, Lyria's magic struck both lords down. Blood spurted from their noses, the corners of their mouths, as her magic gave the two men as severe a beating as a mortal could possibly stand to bear.
"Now you listen now, and you listen good," Lyria snarled angrily, losing her temper. Would no one stop questioning her? "I do not care about your petty little quarrels and personal anxieties and distresses. I do not care if you survive this war I plan to wage. I do not care if your soldiers live or die. I do not care if Adarlan falls into rack and ruin because of me. All I care about is myself. All I care about is my own quest for vengeance. Do you understand me? Do you understand what I am saying?"
The other gathered lords of Adarlan merely nodded silently; now completely and utterly cowed by her for once and for all. They knew now that they had no other choice but to obey this psychopath. Those two lords had been their last desperate hope of escaping the monster who stood before them; their last desperate hope of escaping a senseless war that none of them saw the point in. They had no wish to die for the deranged woman in front of them. But Lyria had placed them in an untenable position, and they had no choice whatsoever but to obey her every command; particularly if they wished to keep their lives. If they wished to save the lives of their families.
"Yes," they all murmured quietly, almost in unison. "We understand. Your wish is our command. We will not disobey your will."
"Good." Lyria nodded in satisfaction. "Prepare your forces in readiness to march. We ride north this time tomorrow. If your forces are not ready to march by then, you will be punished accordingly. I was going to give the rest of your forces more time to get here before marching north, but after your behaviour this day, I do not believe you deserve more time to gather your forces and to rest. You deserve nothing. Nothing at all."
Once again, they all nodded simultaneously before turning on their heels and departing. One lord in particular, debated just not turning up in the morning. Debated just saddling his horse and departing in the middle of the night. It wasn't like his few troops would make much of a difference in a pitched battle anyway. But in the end, he was far too cowardly to run away, being frightened of the repercussions that might be visited on his family, if he did not march north to Terrasen on Lyria's orders. However the unwilling lord thought that if he did indeed march north, he would be able desert along the way – particularly once Lyria's focus was distracted by the fighting once it began to get messy.
Yes, the lord thought in conviction. He would do that. Or perhaps somehow be able to pass on messages to the spies in Terrasen's employ once they were on the move. That would be a good plan – if he could only find the courage.
As Lyria's collected forces assembled just outside of Rifthold's city walls, she was once again disappointed by just how few they really were. It appeared that a handful of lords had decided to defect and take their small forces back to their home keeps and cities in the night. But the loss of those few troops would not be much missed, Lyria mused. For the only lords that had gathered their forces were Adarlan's southern retainers. On the long march north they would gather the forces of Adarlan's northern retainers – dragging them and their lords out of their keeps by their necks if need be.
"You know your duty," Lyria said loudly, beginning to address those gathered. "You know what we march north to do. We are not to be conquerors. When we fight, we fight for our very way of life. We will fight to maintain our rights, we fight for our continued freedom against those who might oppress us by keeping us downtrodden. We march to vengeance and to glory at long last. March on."
And on that note, Lyria turned her stunning silvery-grey mare northward and urged the mare into a canter; the rest of the army followed her lead and urged their horses after her. Extremely few of them wanted to be there, but felt they had no choice but to declare their allegiance to the kingdom that they all loved dearly; even during a war that they did not want a bar of.
Back in Orynth, they were well aware that Lyria and her cobbled together forces had begun to march north on them. The spies they had had stationed in Rifthold had smuggled the information, and themselves, out of the city in the early hours of the morning, mere hours before the army began to march northwards.
Aedion and Ren Allsbrook, who were principally in charge of gathering covert information, were annoyed as all hell that their spies had not returned to Orynth earlier, as they had long since deemed it too dangerous for them to remain in Rifthold. Yet their spies had steadfastly refused to leave, insisting that as long as they stayed, they would be able to gather more useful information. Aedion and Ren had merely growled in disbelief, not risk their lives. But they had had no choice but to accept their decision, ordering them instead to leave at the first sign of danger.
However, as General, Aedion had more to worry about than a few missing spies, who were liable to caught at any given moment. Right now, it was his job to ensure that Lyria and her soldiers were not successful in their attempt to once again subjugate Terrasen. And as this was the first attack on Terrasen by a foreign kingdom since Aelin's ascension to the throne, he was certainly feeling the pressure. He had no wish for Adarlan to reconquer his kingdom, and no wish for Aelin to be dethroned so soon after she had been crowned.
But even Aedion had to admit that he was rather surprised by who was attending this urgent, last minute War Council. The Lords of Terrasen he as much as expected as usual, he expected that Chaol was wanting some vengeance after Lyria had spent so many months threatening his dearest friend, and after Lyria and Dorian had murdered his father in cold blood. But what on earth were Athril and Manon doing there? But once he got over the surprise, Aedion remembered that Terrasen and the Witch Kingdom were firm allies since the war and that Manon was probably there as their representative. But Athril? What on earth was he doing there? Given his recent behaviour, he had no place there.
And where on earth was Lorcan? Lorcan could normally be found at council meetings, even when he made it quite clear that he would rather be anywhere else. Yet, at this most crucial meeting, he was nowhere to be seen. Aedion could not help but he disconcerted at his absence.
"The question now is, rather unfortunately," Darrow said, his quiet voice carrying through the chamber, "is where we are to meet them in battle. For it is blatantly obvious that it will come to that. And we have no choice but to meet them. The only question is to be the when and where. Does anyone have any suggestions?"
"If I may?" Athril said, surprising them all. "I do not think that it would be a good idea for them to get so close to Orynth. I would suggest that we let them tire themselves out on the foothills that form the border between our kingdoms, and then facing them on the open ground between the southern border and Perranth."
"I don't like the idea of Lyria's forces getting too close to Perranth, either," Aelin said worriedly. "We have to remember that the city is still rebuilding after being sacked by the Valg soldiers during the war."
"But if we ambush them here," Endymion murmured, looking closely at the map of the continent that was spread over the table. He indicated a place on the map close to where the Florine and Perranth rivers met near the coast. "We would be able to use the rivers against them. Ice them over for our use, and then smash the ice exactly when they are in the middle of crossing, drowning them."
"That would work well," Aedion murmured approvingly, as Darrow nodded as well. "If I remember correctly though, we used a similar technique during the Valg war. Though I suppose Lyria wouldn't know, or even care, particularly as she doesn't seem to know much about the history of this continent, according to what our spies have previously said."
"Not to mention the fact that it would likely drive Lyria mad that this plan means we won't be routing them at the border," Rowan said, squeezing Aelin's hand reassuringly. "Which is what Lyria is surely expecting. And if she's expecting it, then I am willing to bet that it is the only option that she's preparing her soldiers for."
Endymion nodded at that as well. "From what I've gathered of Lyria over the last two centuries, she is undoubtedly a very single minded person. If she doesn't meet us at the border, preparing to fight, than she will no doubt be expecting to be able to march all the way to Orynth completely unopposed."
"It's a good plan, Majesty," Darrow said, "I highly doubt we'll be able to come up with a better plan, no matter how long we sit here."
"Very well," Aelin said. "Then the armies will ride at dawn, along with whatever allies that will fight with us."
"The witches will march with you as well," Manon said calmly, voice carrying. "More and more of my witches have been flying into the city over the last few weeks. Each and every one of them are more than willing to fight for the comrades who saved their lives, and the lives of their friends and allies, during the war. And to fight for the justice and freedom that Terrasen stands for."
The war council broke up not long afterwards, and as everyone gathered their papers and filed out of the room, Aelin sighed in a mixture of relief and nervous anticipation. The closer they got to the final confrontation and as her pregnancy progressed, the more worried and relived she got. Worried about what could happen in the battle, the safety of her friends and family. And yet, at the same time, relieved at the idea of it all being over, relieved at the thought of her child being born in safety, in a world where she didn't have to look over her shoulder in fear so constantly.
"You know everything is going to go in our favour during the fight," Rowan told her quietly as they finally left. "We have the numbers, the high ground, and the much better strategy than our foes. We will win, I know it. We will win, and then we will be able to welcome our child into the world in peace and safety."
"I know," Aelin simply told him, while trying to figure out how to explain how she was feeling to him. "I… I just… I'm worried about what could happen in the battle, and yet at the same time I'm relieved that it's almost over. This has been one of the longest years of my life."
Rowan just smiled at Aelin peacefully. He knew how his wife felt, and like her, he couldn't wait for this year to be over. Unable to wait for Lyria to be defeated and finally get the fresh start he needed so desperately.
And once both Lyria and Sam had been dealt with accordingly, Aelin and Rowan would be able to get the clean slate to write the ending of their love story.