Part Eight-War

(A/N: WARNING!  There is an implied sexual encounter in here which might...upset some people.  Not so much the content, but the people involved.  Yeah, it's nasty, but hello...it's for the benefit of the story here, peeps...it's not detailed or anything.  As Jae knows quite well, I am très horrible at lemons!)

            Footsteps echoed down the hallway of the palace dungeons.  The man, a Copper Isles spy, looked left and right at every cell.  At the end of the corridor, in the darkest, dankest one, he found what he was looking for.

            Over the years, her infamous beauty had faded slightly.  Her chesnut-brown hair was matted and streaked with gray.  There were dark circles under her dull green eyes, and her face was pinched with lack of nourishment.  Her skin was pale and dry, her movements no longer graceful.  Though she had aged, she still possessed a certain dignity.

            He bowed slightly.  "M'lady, I am to take you to a different location today."  He kept his voice light and genial in case he was overheard by any guards or prisoners.  Clumsily unlocking the door, he bowed as she swept out of the cell.

            "Thank you, sir."

            A week later, two riders arrived at the gates of the city of Persopolis.  They were admitted by skeptical guards, who saw it fit to accompany them to Roger's suite.  The sorceror smiled when his visitors entered.

            "Gracias, Ricardo," he said quietly.  "You all may go now."  The three men exited, leaving Roger alone with the woman.

            "My dear, you have changed somewhat."

            Delia of Eldorne gave an unladylike snort.  "Imprisonment does that to you, Roger.  As does old age."

            He laughed slightly.  "You're not so old, my dear, you've just been under terrible circumstances for the past two decades."

            "What do you want from me, Roger?  Or, even better, what does that little whore want from me?"

            A door slammed open, revealing a furious Alianne.  "What the hell is she doing here?"  The young queen looked at Roger.  "Why did you bring her here?"

            "I thought she might be...useful.  After all, Delia has always..."

            Alianne narrowed her violet eyes dangerously.  "Fine.  Fine, bring her into this.  The next thing I know, you'll have brought Alexander of Tirragen and Josiane back from the dead!"  She spun around to face Delia.  "Listen to me.  I swear by all the gods in heaven, if you even think of taking this situation and turning it around so that you benefit instead of me, I will hang you from the walls of this castle by your own entrails.  That goes for both of you."

            Long after the meeting was over, Alanna paced the council room, trying to make sense of it all.  Jonathan had sent out the Call to Muster...they were going to war.  In a week, they would ride for Persopolis...the entire army, and she would be going with them. 

            She had sat through the council session with a set face, not betraying any emotion whatsoever.  Jon was highly reluctant to enter into a war he knew he would lose, yet he wanted to keep his pride intact.  Some of his more conservative nobles were perturbed that the king would even consider an insignificant female as a threat to the nation.

            And now, Alanna finally sat down at the long table, drumming her fingers on its top nervously.  The conservatives already hated her for many things, and now another reason had surfaced.  Tortallans were dying on the coast by the hundreds, pummeled by the Copper Isles navy.  If they knew that Alianne was behind it...

            Thom was bored.  He sat in a dank prison cell day after day, with really nothing to do other than count the grains of dirt on the floor.  So far, he had counted several thousand.  He kept up a steady stream of conversation with Roald, Neal, and Kel, unless of course they were asleep, which all of them happened to be at the moment.  So, he began to think of the ways he could kill his little sister.

            As he was doing this, a cloaked figure appeared at the door.  He was imagining her being burned slowly on a bed of hot coals when he heard a familiar voice.  "Looks boring in there."

            He rolled his eyes.  "You couldn't imagine.  Now, why don't you be nice and let me out of this hellhole?"

            Alan grinned.  "Ali wouldn't like that...she'd probably throw a fit, and then we'd all be in for it.  Besides, it's rather funny seeing you locked up like a common criminal."

            "If I weren't in chains, I would so hit you right now.  Gods, Alan, just do what I said."

            "Fine, fine.  Don't be such a brat.  You know, you should be thrilled I'm here to get you out of this mess."  He unlocked the door and moved on to the chains.  "Could you do me a favor and wake everyone else up?  Silently?"

            Muttering about insolent fools, Thom stood gingerly, rubbing his wrists where the shackles had chafed.  Neal leaned against the wall of the corridor, scowling.  He looked up and wrinkled his nose.  "Doesn't your brother know to wait until we're all awake?  I was having a wonderful dream."

            "How did he get in?" Keladry of Mindelan wanted to know.  "I thought this place was guarded better than an Egyptian tomb."

            "It is," Neal quipped.  "But Goddess knows Alan charmed some maid into sneaking him in one of the side doors."  He dodged Alan's elbow, which still came ramming into his stomach.

            "Shut it, Neal, before I shove this sword up..."

            "That's enough," Roald interrupted diplomatically.  "Can't we all just get along?"  He turned to Alan.  "Where's everyone else?"

            "Already out.  Even the ones we had to carry..."  He winced.  "What did she do to them?"

            "You don't want to know," Neal replied dryly.  His face was grim.  "I tell you, that sister of yours is quite frightening when she's angry."

            "Which is most of the time, now that Roger's brought Lady Delia into all of this," Kel remarked thoughtfully.  "Interestingly enough, she seems to believe he's actually in this to help her."

            Thom grimaced.  "Which is definitely not the case.  Have you ever met a slimier bastard?  He questioned me for hours on end about my Gift.  The man deserves to be skinned."

            Alan held up his hand.  "Everyone shut up and follow me."  He did, in fact, lead them through the castle laundry.  Several of the maids started giggling and waving shyly.  Neal nudged Thom in his side, shooting him an "I told you so" look.  Alan shot one of the girls his trademark grin, and she opened what appeared to be a wall panel, but was in fact a door.  He bowed right before exiting, causing some of the girls to sigh.  Thom pushed his brother along.  "Keep going, you flirt."

            Before long, they were out in the open desert, which Thom found quite a change.  The hot, dry air was refreshing after weeks in the damp, cold dungeons.  Kel smiled.  "What next?"

            "The army is camped all over the desert," Alan explained, "but those in command are staying with the one tribe still loyal to Jonathan."  He gestured to a handful of horses.  "That's where we go now."

            One of the guards for the Bloody Hawk shouted the alarm that five horses were racing across the desert in their direction.  Other sentries from the Tortallan army cleared them, saying they were not enemies.  One of them, golden-haired and green-eyed, was the perfect picture of health.  The other four looked worse for wear.  Thin and sick after weeks indoors, they were deathly pale.  Just the ride from Persopolis had nearly killed them.  Duke Baird saw that they were put immediately to bed.

            Alan, however, reported directly to Jonathan.  When the king asked him if he had seen anything unusual, he glanced quickly at his mother.  She shook her head so slightly that only he could tell.  "No, Majesty," he lied.  "Nothing at all."

            Jonathan sighed.  "I'm positive Eliana knows we're here.  I've had word from those on the coast that ship upon ship of Copper Isles soldiers are arriving.  Casimiro and his elite group of knights have also reached our shores.  They all ride quickly for Persopolis, which is why we must strike quickly and take the city back before he arrives."  He smiled at Alan.  "You may go, if you like."

            Alan bowed and exited the tent, trying to keep his nerve.  Lying to Jonathan was not the most fulfilling thing in the world.  In fact, he felt absolutely awful for doing it.

            "It's hard to do, isn't it?"  He hadn't noticed Lord Wylon's approach.  "Keep things from him, I mean.  It is your duty to be honest, but on the other hand..."  The man smiled.  "This whole time you've risked your neck for us, without wanting anything in return.  You've done what either one of your parents would have done, and I can give you no higher compliment than that."

            Alan was puzzled.  This, coming from the same Lord Wyldon who absolutely despised his mother?  The same Wyldon whom had made things difficult for her for so many years?  Wyldon of Cavall, the great conventionalist, was complimenting him, Alan of Pirate's Swoop, son of the two most unconventional people in Tortall?

            But of course, his reply was quick, smooth, and ever charming.  "I thank you greatly, my lord, but I have done nothing worth such praise.

            "So young, so talented, and yet so modest.  I find that interesting.  Well, good evening, then."

            Alan bowed in reply.  When Wyldon was out of sight, he raced to find his horse.  After all, he was well overdue for a talk with his cold-hearted, ruthless sister.

            Lady Alianne would never have tried to kill her own brother.  Lady Alianne would never have gone so far as to actually raise a sword against her twin.  But Lady Alianne of Pirate's Swoop was gone, replaced by the cold, beautiful, and evil Queen Eliana of the Copper Isles.  Eliana wanted nothing more than to be the queen of Tortall, and by the Goddess, she would settle for no less.

            And still, when Alan wrenched the weapon out of her hands, she felt suddenly fatigued.  Her whole quest was old, tired.  Perhaps she didn't want Tortall...

            Part of her yearned for the peaceful idyll of Casimiro's villa in the Copper Isles, during the days of Cebrian's reign.  Her other half wanted her life before all this back.  Her life as merely Alianne of Pirate's Swoop.

            Damn that hair dye, she thought venemously.  Had I not been so unbelievably stupid, none of this would have happened.

            She dropped to her knees, tears streaming down her face.  "What is wrong with me?" she cried hoarsely.  "What have I done to myself?"

            Alan, though still wary of her, moved slightly closer.  He peered curiously down on the sister he hardly knew.

            "No," she whispered in a voice that made his blood run cold, "no.  I will not succumb to weakness."  She stood, her eyes determined.  "Isn't it funny?  My mother was a liar and a cheat, my father was King of Thieves...and yet, I am the greatest queen this world has ever seen.  Millions worship the ground I walk on, for I am their goddess.  They glorify my name."  She looked at him sadly.  "Go back to the Tortallans, Alan.  Tell them who I am.  Tell them what I was, and what I have become.  Let Jonathan know that his time has come to an end.  The sun sets on his reign, it is rising on mine.  Go, have some of the guards escort you."

            He bowed and left, leaving her alone with her thoughts.  Cold deliberation ran through her veins, erasing any trace left of reluctance. 

            "Majesty!"  The guard sounded urgent.  "Majesty, the king is here!  He has arrived with the remainder of the army!"

            Alianne smiled, though it was devoid of any warmth or kindness.  No more waiting, she thought.  It is time for me to claim my throne.

            Jonathan paced the tent, trying not to look too worried.  Casimiro had arrived with the rest of the Copper Isles army.  The Tortallans didn't stand a chance, not with the Bazhir against them.  Though he was close to just surrendering, he couldn't, not with all that had happened.

            One of the guards entered, bowing.  "Majesty, there's someone here to see you."  Jonathan nodded distractedly.

            "Majesty, I have just come from Persopolis.  Casimiro has indeed arrived, and he has planned to march soon."

            Jonathan sighed deeply.  "I'll have to summon the lords," he said tiredly.  "And call the army together...it's finally begun then."

            Alianne sat before the fire, still dressed in her blue and white gown, her golden hair cascading down her back.  She was deep in thought, so deep in fact that she didn't hear Roger enter.

            "Your husband is charming, my dear," he began pleasantly.  "Though slightly weak.  I would beware his tendency towards cowardice.  It could get either of you killed one day."

            She glanced at him, raising one eyebrow.  "It's indecent for you to be in here so late.  You know those servants...gossip will all over the castle by tomorrow, and running rampant in the whole of the Eastern Lands by early next week.  My lord, if you please..."

            "Oh, quiet, you insolent girl.  Didn't your mother ever teach you to hold your tongue?"  He smiled.  "No, I suppose not.  Anyway, I'll leave when I want to."

            She paled.  What was he thinking?  Did this constitute as rape?  "Your Grace, I swear, if you do not leave right this instant, I will..."

            "You'll what?" he interrupted, suddenly close enough to make her uncomfortable.  "Don't deny it, you do find me attractive, do you not?"

            "Well, of course," Alianne snapped, pulling away from him.  "What woman wouldn't?  But by the Goddess, d'you know how old I am?"

            "Seventeen...such a young age."

            "Eighteen.  Last week."

            Roger grinned.  "Happy belated birthday.  Well, now that you're an adult, don't you think it's time you made adult decisions?"

            "Such as having you in my bed tonight?  Gods, I think not..."  Alianne was disgusted.  "For you to even suggest such a thing is preposterous."

            He pulled her close to him.  She could smell his expensive cologne, a pleasant, masculine scent.  "I want you," he whispered.  "I want you more than anything."

            This is absolutely the most disturbing thing that has ever happened to me, she said to herself.  What am I supposed to do?  Do I lead him on, and then get rid of him?  No, then he'd get carried away.  But she couldn't think, for suddenly, his mouth was on hers.

            Surprisingly, she kissed him back, not knowing why.  When he began to remove her gown, she didn't stop him.  In fact, she made it easier for him.

            To hell with reason.  Impulse of emotion is what makes the world go round.

            Only a week later, Alianne knew she was pregnant again.  Damn that son of a bitch, she thought, but there was no way Casimiro would ever realize it wasn't his child.  But of course, she had other matters to deal with.  Slightly more pressing matters.

            Her spies had informed her that Jonathan was mobilizing his troops.  He had called together the lords, and his commanders were on the highest alert.  "Jonathan plans to mass in the south," Antonio said at a war council, using chess pieces on a map to demonstrate.  "They will all attack us at once.  A poor plan, if you ask me."

            "But our army has not entirely arrived," Alianne pointed out, slightly worried.  "Using the Dominion Jewel, Jonathan might be able to defeat us."

            Delia chuckled.  "Oh, you mean this Dominion Jewel?"  She put the stone on the table.  "Several of your agents broke into the Bloody Hawk last night and stole it.  Without this, Jonathan hardly stands a chance."

            Alianne's eyes narrowed.  "You did this without consulting me first?" she hissed.  "I warned you, Delia, not to get in the way..."

            "I ordered it," Casimiro interrupted.  "Not that it matters, anyway.  The remainder of our troops, the Bazhir soldiers, and the Carthaki mercenaries have indeed come together.  When Jonathan is occupied with attacking us, they will come in from behind and crush him then.  It is as simple as that."

            She frowned.  "King Jonathan is not a stupid man.  He must have thought you would do that."

            "Oh, most likely," Antonio replied viciously.  "But he is intent upon relying on the Dominion Jewel...which we have.  They replaced it with a fake, so that he would not know."

            Alianne rolled her eyes.  "Don't you all think?  He's going to know it's not the real one.  The Dominion Jewel possesses certain...magical properties."

            "Raising Roger had its advantages," her husband said with a smile.  "He was able to bewitch the false stone so that its properties were almost the same as the original.  Only, instead of making the environment turn on us, the false Jewel will signal our generals on the outside ranks to attack.  The Tortallans hardly stand a chance."

            "Jonathan is sure to fall," Delia began.  "He cannot possibly win, not with all the gods in heaven on his side."

            Though he was nervous, Jonathan didn't show it.  He donned his mail and armor without expressing any form of emotion whatsoever.  But his subjects knew that he was worried sick.  He sat unusually rigid on his horse, ready to lead his army into what would doubtlessly be his final battle...or so he thought.  The power of the Copper Isles was far too great for Tortall.

            As they approached the walls of Persopolis, he held up his hand, signaling the army to stop.  He turned around to look at his last chance...then he surveyed the forces that held the city.  We might actually have a chance, he thought happily.  It looks like Casimiro and Eliana were overconfident and didn't bring the entire army with them...silly mistake.

            Over in the city, Alianne grinned.  "That's the best he can do?  Black God, this should take no more than twenty minutes.  We might not even need the others."

            "Nonsense," Casimiro replied.  "Jonathan has managed to win despite unimagineable odds before...did you ever hear about the Tusaine War?"

            "Of course.  Thousands and thousands of times...my mother was his squire at the time."

            He smiled gravely.  "Yet another pebble in my shoe.  She is the one you have to be afraid of.  Quite a remarkable woman."

            "You've never met her!"

            "Oh, yes I have.  It was several years ago, at some court function in Corus.  You see, my dear, when I was your age, I loved to travel.  Tortall was merely one of my destinations.  I believe you were in the City of the Gods at the time...yes, you were, because she mentioned you."

            Alianne rolled her eyes.  "Why were you talking about me?"

            "I can't remember how we actually got on the subject, but she did mention that all you wanted was to be normal.  Hard to do, considering who your parents are.  I met your father as well.  Wonderfully funny, though I wouldn't want to get on his bad side."

            Antonio walked up, laughing.  "Lord, I cannot believe this.  Jonathan really has no idea what he's getting into, does he?"

            "No," Alianne snapped, "and I believe that's the point.  Now, if you two will kindly excuse me?"

            When Antonio shot him a questioning look, Casimiro shrugged.  He had learned to ignore his wife's unusually quick temper and extreme mood swings long before.  But before stopping to contemplate this latest burst of ill humor, he had to turn his attention back towards the army.  Jonathan had arrived at the city walls.

            Arrows rained down on the Tortallan army.  Horses reared and almost tossed their riders; foot soldiers bravely set great ladders on the city walls.  In the midst of all the chaos, Alanna fought her way to one of the city gates that the King's Own had managed to actually open.  Into Persopolis a legion of knights and foot soldiers rushed.  They were quite perplexed to find the city streets devoid of any Bazhir or Copper Islanders. 

            Raoul rode up next to her.  "What d'you say we ride up to the walls and take them from behind?"

            She nodded in agreement and steered her horse towards the edge of the city, trying to find the best point for sudden attack.  However, it was too late.  The gates slammed shut behind them, a whole troop of Copper Islanders advancing menacingly.  With a ferocious battle cry, they pounced.

            A swarthy man on a Spanish mare rode up next to Alanna, his sword high in the air.  She swung her weapon down lightning fast and slashed at his abdomen.  Though he was bleeding profusely, he did not founder.  Instead, he brought his sword up and cut a long gash in her right arm.  Seething with anger, she ran her blade straight through his heart.  Only seconds later, another man was at her back.

            She cut them down, sometimes two at a time.  But still the men kept coming on and on, like there was no end to their number.  She heard Raoul give a painful yelp, and she looked up suddenly.  Her longtime friend was on the ground, a Copper Islander's glaive poised at his throat.  Thanking the gods for George, Alanna pulled a dagger out of one of her boots and threw it at the man about to kill Raoul.  He fell, not expecting the assault. 

            Her large friend grinned in reply.  "Always having to play the hero, you are.  Gods curse me if I'm sorry for it."

            They had defeated the enemy, but their number had been cut in half.  Tying a rough bandage around her bleeding arm, Alanna looked for an escape, finding nothing.

            "What can we do?"

            Raoul grimaced.  "We're like sheep in a wolves' den...we have nowhere to go.  I'd suggest we try and find another gate, quickly.  They'll be back to finish us off in no time."

            Alianne fingered the Dominion Jewel longingly.  In her hands, she held the very key to worldwide domination.  Everything could be hers...yet at a terrible price.  She risked the gods' anger if she took it from Jonathan and actually used it against him.  She looked out over the battle and grinned.  Things were going exactly as she planned.

            "Majesty, they're winning.  Call the army now," Antonio requested. 

            "That's what I want them to think, Tony," she replied in a wicked tone.  "They will be so exhausted that by the time the rest of the army arrives, they won't have the strength to fight them.  We've already won."

            "Not yet you haven't," a female voice hissed.  Alianne felt a sharp point at the nape of her neck.  "Hand over the Jewel, or I'll slit your throat."

            Her blood ran cold.  Delia.  How could Roger have been so stupid?  Unless... "No," she whispered.  "Gods, no..."

            "What," the duke sneered, "don't tell me you actually thought I would let you take all the glory from this?  You?  I mean, you're...and I'm...socially, you are beneath me."

            Alianne paled.  "Jesu Christi.  You are an unimaginable bastard, Roger of Conté.  I can't believe you..."  She spun around to face him.  The handsome duke was smiling quite evilly.

            "You know, Alianne, the resemblance between you and your uncle is uncanny.  He also was young and naïve, believing that he was God Almighty.  Oh yes, he thought that he was more powerful than I, but obviously he was wrong.  Though, I must say, his vanity pales in comparison to your ungodly amount."

            Her eyes narrowed dangerously.  "Now," Roger continued.  "Hand over the Jewel, and I might kill you quickly."

            "Never," she hissed.  "You are crazed, and I must have been drunk when I brought you back.  Guards!"

            "They aren't coming."  Delia smiled.  "We made sure of that."

            Antonio, hidden in the corners, unsheathed his sword.  "You both, step away from the queen..."

            "Or you'll what, skewer us?  Oh, I'm so afraid."

            Alianne saw her opportunity when Delia turned.  In a smooth action, she had both the lady and Roger on the floor.  Two daggers were instantly in her hands.  "Don't try anything," she warned.  "There are certain advantages to having the father that I do.  Antonio, call the soldiers."  She knelt in front of them.  "I warned you, many days ago, Delia, that I would hang you from the walls by your own entrails.  Get ready to face that fate."

            That night, during a pause in the fighting, Lady Delia and Duke Roger were publicly executed.  They were hanged, cut down while still breathing, and had their intestines drawn out.  Instead of beheading them then, as custom decreed, they were hung from the walls by their entrails.  Jonathan watched the gruesome sight from afar, his stomach threatening to heave.  Several of his men indulged their feelings and promptly lost their dinners right in front of him.  Thayet was so distressed that she fainted.

            Meanwhile, back in the city, Alianne dined alone with Casimiro.  She held up her glass of wine.  "To justice."

            "To justice," he echoed, "and to the death of treachery."  They drank, and a silence followed.  She broke it.

            "Darling," she began sweetly, and he looked up suspiciously.  "No, no, it's nothing bad.  Actually, it's rather good news."

            "Yes?"

            She looked down, not able to quite meet his eyes.  "I am with child."

            Casimiro nodded.  "Well, then, pray God it is a son this time, eh?  While our sweet Elena is a clever girl, I could never leave my kingdom to her."

            "Our kingdom," Alianne corrected sharply, "and I never knew you had qualms about the inheritance of women."

            He smiled.  "Of course not, my lovely flower."

            "If you ever call me 'lovely flower' again, I swear I shall kill you."

            Casimiro laughed and lifted his glass.  "I shall respect your wishes, my lady.  To our son."

            The look in her eyes was one of intense malevolence, yet Alianne did drink to his toast.  She sent a silent prayer to the gods that the child was indeed Casimiro's, and not Roger's, for that would be an unimaginable disaster.

A/N: About my decision to end this chapter at an unbelievably anticlimactic moment...a lot of shit has been going on in my life right now.  My suicidal tendencies are starting to surface yet again, and I'm developing a case of bulimia.  Then, not long ago, I was suspended from school for forging my mom's signature on a paper.  My parents are ready to absolutely kill me...I'm not allowed to go to my best friend's Sweet Sixteen party!!!  I'm so totally grounded right now, and it absolutey SUCKS.  All for a stupid paper.  I'd rather have just taken the zero, ya know?  Ah, I've already posted about this on Sheroes...you can read my bratty rants and raves there.

Yeah, so, happy reading!