Chapter Fifteen
Death To The Usurper
Lina could still remember when she had first been brought to the palace.
It had been shortly after Misrule had surrendered to the Imperium. She had been brought into the city by a wagon, guarded at all times. Up until then, she had never seen a city as big as Rasolir.
On the one hand, she had been angry and would have gladly burned it all down. On the other, she had been amazed by its size.
Looming over it all had been the palace, an edifice the people of Misrule could not hope to rival, if only because they were too busy squabbling with each other.
Lina had been hauled into the palace, all the way up to the throne room. There, Shabarra had sneeringly told her that she was effectively a hostage. If Misrule misbehaved in any way, she would be publicly and painfully executed. And if she misbehaved, Misrule would be publicly and painfully executed. And so would she.
Look at me now, Shabarra. Lina thought to herself, a half-smile crooked with amusement curling the corner of her mouth. I'm really misbehaving now. What are you going to do about it?
He was probably cowering in some corner, surrounded by his Sun Guard. So far, she, the Wraith, Garrisan and the soldiers accompanying them had only run into palace guards. They were skilled and well equipped, but no equal to the Sun Guard, and the rebels were quickly taking control.
Lina had no idea what Shabarra and Callardis had told the men who were charged with defending them. Maybe they really did foolishly believe that Shabarra was some mouthpiece of the gods. Only two had surrendered thus far, the rest had fought to the death.
Garrisan was still holding the old, notched spatha. It was the same sword he had wielded as a Sun Guard. Its enchantment had faded, but the steel was still strong and sharp despite the notches in the blade. He had taken up a fallen buckler for defence.
The Wraith was carrying a long dagger to accompany her khopesh, having left the second khopesh back in her hideout. It might not have been an effective weapon against armour, but Lina had seen her use the curved blade to pull guards onto her dagger, and to pull aside blades and shields to expose weak spots.
Lina needed no steel. Though she had picked up a dagger, she had yet to bloody it. One of the legionnaires who had followed them in had pressed it into her hands, too badly hurt to continue. The palace guards were fighting tooth and nail, clearly under the impression that Shabarra might be able to escape.
She could not fathom their devotion. Shabarra would do nothing to save them, he would not fight alongside them, he probably did not even know their names, or care that much about their sacrifices. She could understand dying for a cause, but what honour was there in dying for a man like Shabarra?
It was one more thing he would pay for.
Lina thrust out both hands, spraying jets of flame at the charging guards. They screamed as they fell, writhing as they burned. Garrisan paused only to stab them both in the chest. Lina did not object.
Between the scorched, hacked, stabbed bodies and all of the blood, they were going to have a lot of cleaning to do before Mirana returned. More than a few tapestries were burnt or soaked with gore. It was a good thing the interior was mostly stone, otherwise they would have been forced to stop and put out fires.
Lina's hair was still wreathed with flames, her eyes glowing with power. The blades of her allies dripped with blood.
'Where will he go?' the Wraith asked.
'He will either try to hide somewhere, or he'll remain in the throne room.' Garrisan answered. 'My guess would be the latter. Callardis is ruthless, but he's not stupid. He knows that there is no escape, not now. The throne room is on the highest level. That's where they'll make their last stand.'
'Can we take it?'
'With all of the soldiers on our side, yes.' Garrisan stated. 'It's just a matter of time. The throne room is defensible, but we have the numbers to overwhelm the Sun Guard. We also have the time and resources to starve them out.'
'It's not going to come to that.' Lina growled. 'Shabarra's going to suffer, yes, but he's not going to die meekly. Not if I have any say in it.'
'Careful,' Garrisan warned. 'I want him dead as much as you do, maybe more. But you're no good to your friends dead. And it does us no good to become our enemies.'
'Then how would you do it?' the Wraith demanded.
'A blade to the heart.'
'That's too good for him.' The Wraith shook her head. 'The man burned my family, my pod and my people in their homes.'
'But I wouldn't do it.' Garrisan continued. 'We need to set an example, show the people that we'll be better than him. A proper trial, a formal execution. Not vengeance. Justice.'
The Wraith sighed and shook her head. 'Maybe any death is too good for him. But at least he'll be dead.'
Lina spotted a bust of Shabarra on a plinth and resisted the urge to knock it over then and there. There would be time for that later. Something to look forwards to, besides taking the man himself down.
None of them needed to mention that it was too quiet now. They could hear distant shouts from outside, muffled by the thick walls, but nothing else. It seemed that Garrisan was right. The rest of the guards had pulled back to defend the throne room.
Garrisan knew the palace better than any of them. As Commander of the Sun Guard, he had been charged with memorising every corridor, every room, every door and every window of the palace. Every Sun Guard did. They had to know where an assassin might enter, where a spy might lurk, where a kidnapper might try to make his escape.
The only passageway he had never known of was the one Mirana and Marci had escaped through. He had never objected to it. He had known of it, but not where it was. It was a secret known only to the one who sat upon the Solar Throne, passed down only to the direct descendant. It was a precaution taken in case any of the Sun Guard, the Commander included, were compromised in any way.
In his last days, the Emperor had entrusted the secret to Kashurra, who had wisely passed it on to Marci. If he had not, Mirana would never have escaped. Garrisan would have happily made Marci a member of the Sun Guard despite his belief in tradition, if only because she was absolutely loyal to Mirana. He also trusted Kashurra, despite previous doubts about the man since he had somehow retained his position after the Bloody Dance.
But he had been a vital part of the conspiracy. They all understood that he had been playing a long game. He had pretended to be loyal to Shabarra just to bring him down. Currently, he was the only one in the Imperium who knew of the tunnel Mirana had used to escape.
Kashurra would have locked the library door. He was not a fighter, and was lying low somewhere in the palace. Apart from Garrisan, he knew the palace better than anybody present.
Lina came to a halt. 'If they're holding the throne room, how should we attack?'
Garrisan considered. 'Kashurra didn't mention any changes. The doors would be difficult to breach under normal circumstances.' He gave Lina a small half-smile. 'But we have you.'
Kashurra had given them a layout of the throne room, as well as specifics on the doors. The doors were lightly enchanted, their warding spells needed to be activated by a mage, otherwise visitors and supplicants would be stuck outside. Lina would be able to break through the spells.
There were two sets of doors, one on each side of the throne room. They would need to block both doors. Though there was no way for Shabarra to escape, they did not want to waste time hunting him through the palace. The sooner he was captured or dead, the sooner they could set about establishing a regent, which would allow them to stabilise the Imperium and see about finding Mirana. Kashurra already had some idea of where she might be.
'We'll take the northern doors.' Lina decided. According to Kashurra, the enchantments on those doors were a little weaker than the ones on the southern doors. She turned to the legionnaires behind them. 'Four of you need to watch the southern doors.'
Four men set off down the corridor. The rest of them followed Lina. She had been tempted to send the Wraith or Garrisan with the others. But she wanted the best fighters in the throne room rather than standing guard. The Wraith might not have been a Sun Guard, but she clearly knew how to fight.
Behind them, more legionnaires took up positions in the corridors. Unlike the rest in the palace, they had kept their large shields. They were tasked with blocking the corridors, ready to jab short-spears into anybody who tried to push past them.
A perfect trap. The only way out for Shabarra would be the balcony, a tall order unless he had somehow grown wings.
'Let me go first,' Garrisan advised. He waved one of the legionnaires to his flank and took the lead.
There were two men on the stairs, clad in the red and gold of the Sun Guard. Both men were armed with poleaxes, with swords sheathed at their sides.
Garrisan did not rush to meet them. The rest of them followed his example. The Sun Guard wanted them to attack. From their elevated positions with the polearms, they would hold an advantage.
In a duel, there was a simple rule: do the opposite of what the enemy wants. The two Sun Guard wanted the rebels to attack, but Garrisan knew this.
A stand-off like this could have lasted a while. Not tonight though.
Lina moved into the gap between Garrisan and the legionnaire, and flung jets of flame at the two Sun Guard. Their armour was made of the finest steel available, and it was woven with basic protective wards to make it more durable. But the magic within the metal was no match for Lina's flames.
Both men lasted slightly longer than the regular palace guards, but they fell all the same. Garrisan and the Wraith cut off their cries with their blades.
Garrisan paused at the doors, listening intently. 'They've primed the wards. When we get inside, go for the neck and armpits. Take them down as quickly as you can by any means necessary. Do not prolong the fight.'
He was right. Who better knew how to fight a Sun Guard than a Sun Guard himself? They were the best warriors in the Imperium. The only advantages the rebels held over them was Lina's magic and sheer numbers.
This was going to be bloody. Many of them would likely die. Lina should have stayed out of it, but she would never have agreed to it. She would not hide like a coward, not like Shabarra. She would not ask these people to fight and die on her behalf. She was going to fight alongside them, and was prepared to die for them too.
How had it come to that? It seemed that she had fallen in with a decent crowd after all, even though they were all technically criminals and traitors.
That would change tonight. History was written by the victors, after all.
Lina lifted her arms, and hoped that Mirana would understand the damage she was about to cause to her childhood home.
Flames billowed in as the scorched doors fell, their hinges reduced to molten slag. Without waiting, Garrisan, the Wraith, Lina and the legionnaires charged into the throne room.
What remained of Shabarra's Sun Guard were ready for them, and they were prepared to fight to the death. Callardis had overseen their training personally, making them more than a match for the legionnaires in terms of skill, and their equipment was of the finest make and quality.
Nobody needed to say that the rebels would be relying heavily on Lina to win this fight.
Lina did not hold back. She spread her arms, and a flaming form took shape before her and swept forth. It resembled a wyrm, made of pure flame. The men it touched instantly caught fire, their wails shorter than most of her victims as the flames devoured them.
The cries blended into a cacophony of chaos.
'For the Emperor!'
'Down with the usurper!'
'For the glory of the Imperium!'
'Death to the false Emperor!'
Garrisan and the Wraith engaged first, followed by the legionnaires. Lina stayed close, ignoring the blood which sprayed across her face as Garrisan severed a throat, leaving his enemy to fall, choking on his own gushing blood.
She saw one legionnaire slip in the blood of one of his comrades. His opponent took full advantage, smashing his helm and the skull underneath with a warhammer. The marble floor was slick with blood, and Lina almost fell too. The Wraith steadied her before parrying an axe, yanking it aside with her khopesh and then burying her dagger in her attacker's eye.
Lina stayed between Garrisan and the Wraith as they fought, flinging gouts of fire. Several legionnaires had fallen, and they had only slain a handful of Sun Guard.
'Together!' Lina yelled. 'Form up on me!'
She wasn't doing this for her sake, and they knew it. If they did not work together, they were all going to die. Numbers alone would not win this fight.
The surviving legionnaires, Garrisan and the Wraith formed a circle around Lina. She was the key to victory. If she died, they were lost. More legionnaires would arrive and avenge them, but Lina was the leader of the rebellion, the figurehead around which the people would rally until Mirana's return. She had to live.
And Lina was going to keep as many of them alive as she could.
Garrisan could have been mistaken for a much younger warrior as he fought. He struck with the strength of a soldier in his prime, the vigour and devotion of the Sun Guard he had once been. His old blade, though rusted and notched, cut like a freshly forged sword. He struck at gaps in armour, bashed helms with the pommel and cut throats as they reeled, severed tendons and drove his sword past the collar as they fell to their knees.
The Wraith used every trick she knew, using her khopesh's full potential. She hooked legs and sent her enemies sprawling, wrenched weapons and shields aside, pulled foes onto her dagger, sliced throats and cut off heads, whatever it took to ensure that she won and her enemies lay dead at her feet.
Lina threw fire through the gaps, scorching and burning any Sun Guard she could hit. When they closed in as one, she whirled one arm as if brandishing a whip, and a long ribbon of fire spun through the air, circling the rebels and sweeping through the Sun Guard, igniting the cloth under their armour.
Sensing victory, the rebels fanned out, cutting down the screaming, flaming men before them. It was grim, bloody work. But the tide had turned at last.
The marble floor was red with a flood of blood, the bodies of the dead forming morbid islands in the sea of red. Many of them wore the red and gold of the Sun Guard, several scorched beyond recognition. Others wore the more mundane steel of legionnaires. The pillars were streaked with crimson. The sickly stench of cauterised flesh and hair was all around, wafting out over the balcony.
Lina's hands were still raised, wreathed with guttering flames. She was panting heavily, sweat dripping from her forehead and evaporating from her flaming hair.
The Wraith was also breathing heavily, her marred face covered in gore. Both of her blades were dripping, and the adrenaline had blinded her to the pain of a long gash on her forearm. Garrisan's armour was even more dented, his sword barely whole enough to survive another parry, his cheek slashed and a long cut on his leg oozing blood.
They had entered the room with thirty legionnaires. Of them, only twelve remained. The twenty Sun Guard all lay dead in varying states of dismemberment and ruin.
'Lina? You're bleeding.'
Lina barely heard the Wraith. She lifted a hand to a spot on her shoulder which stung vaguely. One of the Sun Guard must had managed to slice her. She had been lucky, all things considered. Her comrades had done a phenomenal job of protecting her.
And many of them had died protecting her.
Lina sighed as she looked down at the dead Legionnaires. Garrisan looked just as sad, and surprised. When he felt her gaze on him, he looked up slowly. 'I did not expect to survive this night.'
'What about Shabarra?' the Wraith demanded. 'Where is he?'
It was only now that Lina realised that Callardis was not amongst the dead. She had not seen any sign of his distinctive labrys during the fight.
If Callardis was not here, neither was Shabarra.
'Where is he?' the Wraith spun on the spot, staring around the room and frowning at the dead. 'Where the hell is he?'
The surviving legionnaires spread out, those who could still walk at least, and searched the throne room. There were few places a man could hide here, and it quickly became apparent that Shabarra was not here.
'Son of a whore!' the Wraith hissed. 'How did he get past us?'
'He was not here.' Garrisan stated. 'He must have slipped away before we arrived. His guards would have bought him enough time.
'It doesn't matter,' Lina said. 'He won't get past the men outside. Come on! Let's track him down.'
The legionnaires spread out through the palace, with orders to apprehend Shabarra if possible, kill him if not.
It was one of Marsian's men who summoned them. Lina had been with the Wraith and Garrisan in the dining room, and they hurried after the soldier, running down to the library.
'Viceroy!' Garrisan exclaimed. 'What happened?'
Kashurra looked up from where he lay, with his back against the wall. His nose was bleeding and there was a tear in his robes. Through the tear, Lina could see a puckered, scorched wound, the result of a heavy blade with a burning enchantment.
Garrisan knew a weapon which fitted that description: Callardis' labrys. A Legion medic was tending to his injuries.
'How bad is it?' Lina asked.
'He'll live,' the medic reported. 'But you'll need to spend some time in the infirmary, Viceroy.'
'I understand.'
'What happened?' Garrisan repeated.
'I'm sorry,' Kashurra murmured. 'Callardis was smarter than I expected, and subtler than I believed.'
'You call this subtle?' The Wraith indicated the smashed library doors.
'No, not this.' Kashurra sighed, inclining his head towards the doors. 'I believed that I was the only one left who knew of the tunnel the Princess used to escape the Bloody Dance. But Callardis must have spent time after the coup trying to figure out how she escaped.
He and Shabarra arrived just after I had locked the doors, with a number of his Sun Guard too. I tried to stop them but…' he sighed again, 'I'm no warrior, as you well know. I should consider myself lucky to escape with my life. I suffered only a glancing blow from Callardis' axe, and a kick from Shabarra. They were in too great a hurry to finish me off. But all the same, I wish I could have stopped them.'
'It was brave of you to face them.' Lina assured him, kneeling down. 'Is he still in the tunnel?'
Kashurra shook his head. 'He'll be gone by now. Callardis sealed it behind them, breaking the mechanisms.'
'It's not too late.' Garrisan stated. 'Tribune, warn the Legates. Tell them to dispatch sphinx riders. If Shabarra and his guards are on foot, they won't get far before daybreak.'
He did not say what they all knew, Kashurra most of all. As Mirana and Marci had proved, sphinxes could be evaded.
The usurper's escape had been more than fortuitous. It had been planned.
Before the gates were breached…
'Get to the point, Viceroy!' Shabarra demanded. 'What is it that you need to tell me?'
Kashurra was not surprised by the man's fear. Shabarra was not a brave man, and even a braver man would have been afraid of the people coming to claim his life. 'I have not been idle since the coup. Recently, I discovered how the Princess and her handmaiden escaped the palace.'
'What?' Callardis spat. 'And now you tell us?'
'I think you will agree that now is better than never, Commander.' Kashurra narrowed his eyes. 'Let me speak, because this will save the God Emperor's life.
The city is beyond your control now, your majesty. We cannot hope to hold it. You must flee tonight, before they breach the gates. Follow me.'
Callardis hesitated, but Shabarra barked at him to follow and he did as ordered. He selected five of his best men and they hurried after Kashurra. Their sabatons clattered as they moved, casting echoes down the corridors.
Kashurra led them into the library. 'Your predecessor knew of this tunnel—a secret passed from ruler to heir only.' He stopped at a wall adorned by a simple framed mirror. 'Larisden's death was not in vain, your majesty. I remembered that he was found outside this library.'
'Killed by a guard.' Callardis recalled.
'I believe that it was the Princess' handmaiden who killed him.' Kashurra stated. 'I also believe that the previous Emperor told Marci of this tunnel. He knew that she would remain loyal to Mirana no matter what.'
'That damned goldfish!' Shabarra hissed.
Kashura restrained himself from retorting. Now was not the time, and it wouldn't help. 'Here,' Kashurra reached under the mirror and found the lever. 'As I said, Larisden did not die in vain. Him being found outside this library is what gave me reason to search this room thoroughly. And I found this,' the wall slid aside, revealing the tunnel. 'This tunnel leads to a ladder which will take you under the city. It ends outside the walls. There will be horses waiting for you.'
'You planned for this?' Callardis demanded.
'As soon as my agents sent word about the explosives, yes.' Kashurra answered calmly. 'I had hoped that they could disable them, but I thought it wise to prepare for the worst.' He gestured at the tunnel. 'Go, your majesty. You must survive.'
Shabarra dithered, then nodded respectfully. 'You are a true friend to the Imperium, Viceroy. I will not forget this.'
'What about you?' Callardis asked, his tone a little softer.
'I will stay and try to insinuate myself in whatever sham of leadership they install.' Kashurra explained. 'If all goes well, I will attempt to start an insurgency to weaken the traitors.
As for you, God Emperor, you should go to Stonehall.'
'Stonehall?' Shabarra echoed. 'They hate the Imperium!'
'You will need allies, your majesty. You will need an army.' Kashurra insisted. 'The enemy of your enemy could be your friend, or at least an ally. Allow Emperor Galanius to make an offer, see if it is agreeable. I'm sure that you can strike a compromise. It is galling, I know, but it may be the only way for you to reclaim your throne.'
Shabarra wanted to argue, but he knew that Kashurra was right. With the Legions turning against him, Stonehall was the only faction out there with an army big enough to even hope of opposing them.
'I'll need more than Stonehall on my side.' Shabarra said morosely.
'Revtel, Quath and Tarrin will follow them to war.' Kashurra assured him. 'And I believe that I may be able to send a potential ally your way. Please, trust me, divine majesty.' Kashurra stepped closer. 'There is more that you must know, and somewhere you must go on your way to Stonehall.'
'More recently uncovered boons?' Callardis muttered.
Kashurra ignored him. 'There is more truth to your divine right than any of us ever realised, your majesty. Once and for all, we can prove that you must be the one to lead the Imperium into the light of a new dawn.'
Now...
When he had told the God Emperor all he needed to know right then, Kashurra had asked Callardis to smash the library doors as if breaking in, and had then tasked him with inflicting a painful but minor injury for realism. It would make the rebels more likely to believe his story.
Kashurra sighed. 'I'm sorry.'
'You did all you could, Kashurra.' Lina assured him, obviously accepting the lie. She was not stupid. Kashurra was just that good a liar. He had to be.
'Though Shabarra may have fled, we have still achieved what we intended: we have deposed him, leaving the throne for the Princess to claim.' Garrisan stated.
'Yes,' Kashurra murmured. 'May her rule be long and prosperous.'
'We need to get her here first,' the Wraith said. 'And you need to rest and get that wound seen to.'
'Is the palace secure?' Garrisan asked.
One of the legionnaires snapped to attention. 'Yes, Commander.'
'I'm not… never mind. Take the Viceroy to the infirmary, please.'
Garrisan went with one of the Centurions, leaving Lina and the Wraith to contemplate their victory. It was hollowed slightly by Shabarra's escape, but it was a victory nonetheless.
The Wraith leaned against the wall and ran her hands across her scarred face, releasing a long breath. 'I really wanted to see him suffer for his crimes.'
'I know.' Lina murmured, now wondering if Garrisan had a point. Would executing Shabarra on the spot have changed anything? The people who had died as a result of his neglect, paranoia and wanton cruelty would not come back to life. 'But it's over now. And we're still alive.'
'Yes. You get to play regent. Enjoy it while it lasts.'
'And you can start a new life.'
'Here's hoping.' The Wraith closed her eyes. 'I'll have to think about it. I just… I think I need a drink. A big one.'
'I'm sure the Princess wouldn't mind us tapping one of the wine barrels in the cellar.'
'I'm not touching anything Shabarra drank. Besides, I've still got some wine from Quath back in my hideout… but it's not going to be my hideout now, is it? Funny how you forget about the little things when carrying out a plot.'
'Why don't you worry about that later?' Lina suggested, putting a hand on the Wraith's shoulder and steering her down the corridor. 'I think I know what might make us feel better.'
The bust was heavy, but they still insisted on lugging it all the way up to the throne room. Sweating with the effort, they positioned the smug stone likeness of Shabarra on the balcony railing.
'Ready?' Lina asked.
'Aye,' the Wraith grinned.
'Look out below!' Lina shouted. Then they both cried, 'Down with the usurper!' and they shoved the bust off the balcony.
It was a long way down. The leering stone head spun a few times before smashing into the ground, exploding into hundreds of tiny pieces. Both Lina and the Wraith whooped. Neither had broken into the wine cellars, but they were drunk on their victory.
The Wraith shouted something in elvish. Lina had no idea what it was, but it sounded triumphant.
'Maybe we should have brought some wine after all.' Lina said, realising how dry her throat was.
The Wraith smirked and pulled a flask from her belt. 'Why bother going all the way downstairs? Careful, it's a tad stronger than wine.'
Lina sipped cautiously. The alcohol burned hotter than wyrm-fire and she coughed.
'I know!' the Wraith laughed, taking a swig herself. 'Good, huh?'
'I could get used to it.' Lina rasped. She cleared her throat. 'There is one more thing.'
'Oh?'
'You promised me that if we won, you would tell me your real name.' Lina reminded her. 'Well, here we are, we've won and we're both still alive. Are you going to keep your promise? Or are you going to remain a ghost?'
The Wraith considered, fiddling with the cap of the flask. Finally, she took another swig. When she lowered the flask, she was smiling. There was as much melancholia and memory in her expression as there was relief and joy.
'Maybe it is time for me to stop being the Wraith now.' She looked Lina straight in the eye, the unburned side of her face more noticeable now. 'What do you think, Slayer?'
'I think that's your choice to make. You earned it.'
'Very well,' the Wraith extended her arm. 'My name is Drysi.'
Lina grinned and clasped her arm. 'It's a pleasure to know you, Drysi. Is that wine still an option?'
Drysi smiled. 'Tomorrow. I've been saving a barrel,' she gestured at the city below. 'But we still have work to do. Tonight, we tend to the wounded and save who we can. Tomorrow, we drink.'
'That sounds like a good plan.' Lina nodded. Shabarra had left wounds for them to close. This would remain a scarred city, but they could rebuild. They could still help those who remained. 'After you, Drysi. After you.'
Kashurra still felt tense and weary as he lay in the infirmary. He was not alone. The battle for the palace had left many wounded in its aftermath. Many of these poor souls would not live to see the dawn, or the return of the Princess. Many of those who would live would lead lives forever changed, forced to adjust and cope with crippling injuries and lost limbs.
He could hear them groaning, cursing and wailing as the physicians tried to save them. He would have liked to have helped, but one thing he knew little of was medicine. Besides, he was injured himself—not as severely perhaps, but he had been ordered to rest.
If he'd had to make these decisions again, he would. It was all necessary.
All of it was necessary, no matter how painful it was to endure. It was knowing what would come next which pained him the most, and it would be worse when it came to pass.
But it had to be done.
Kashurra had come so very close to killing Shabarra in the throne room, and again in the library. He had wanted to end the usurper's life very badly. He had made countless people suffer, Marci and Mirana amongst them. His coup had nearly ruined Kashurra's delicate plans, forcing him to adapt and adopt a more difficult plan and take more drastic measures.
Still, they had won a victory today. Lina would act as regent until Mirana and Marci returned, and Kashurra already had plans for finding them and bringing them back.
Though their arrival would accelerate plans with harsh costs, he longed to see them again.
As for Shabarra, he still had a part to play. This game was far from over, and the former God Emperor was still a major player.
Kashurra closed his eyes, just listening to the chaos around him. Everything had gone as he had planned.
Fymryn still felt disconnected from reality, even from herself. Part of her still could not believe that Coedwig was gone, that everybody there was dead. Though she knew it to be true, she wanted to deny it.
But she could not. That left her one desire now: revenge.
Fymryn had never been a violent person. She had been known for her curiosity, and for frequently getting into trouble. But though she had always set off on her wanderings with a knife or two, the weapons had simply been precautions.
The sword, Dawn's Bane, slapped against her thigh as she walked behind the Invoker. She had never used a sword before, yet this one fitted her hand as if it had been made just for her. She might have chosen a different name for it though.
The old Fymryn, the innocent Fymryn, might have picked some name inspired by the tales of yore, something suited for a hero's blade. But she had died with Coedwig, and now Fymryn accepted the name. She was Mene's Chosen, and she was going to make the Usurper and her allies pay for what they had done.
The Invoker's sorcerer allies had established the means for them to teleport close to the Nightsilver Woods. Though the army was still shrouded, they had no doubt that Selemene's acolytes would detect the disturbance.
All around the clearing were elves in black armour, the moon symbols upon their breastplates a dark violet in colour. Fymryn suppressed her unease as she caught sight of large, hulking forms shaped from stone waiting for orders, hunched, their eyes glowing in the darkness.
'Golems.' The Invoker had noticed the direction of her gaze. 'We will need them to breach the walls.'
Fymryn also noticed odd shapes hanging from the branches of trees. She was reminded of bats, but these shapes were considerably larger, bigger than Davion. 'What are those?'
'They are called banshees,' the Invoker barely glanced at them. 'Ever since Selemene took over the Nightsilver Woods, the local night-beasts have been beholden to Her servants. They make a habit of capturing, subduing and taming them. The Dark Moon Order uses griffons in battle, we needed an equivalent. My allies bred these creatures for that purpose.' He noticed Fymryn's unease. 'They are disturbing to look upon, yes, but they are fearsome in battle.'
'And those things?'
'Cockatrices. You've no doubt seen how dangerous a lunar-tiger is in battle. There are many different species of night-beast, of which Mirana's pet is but one of them. Using horses seemed unwise, so we procured these beasts instead.'
'How long have you been planning this?'
'Longer than you might believe.' He did not elaborate.
At that moment, a tall elf clad in more ornate armour than his fellow soldiers approached. His vambraces bore the phases of the moon upon them, also dark violet. Like the archers, his gauntlets were fingerless, and he was carrying a bow of dark wood which was taller than he was. He had a sharp, almost equine face and keen, piercing pale grey eyes.
'Dierdd,' the Invoker acknowledged. 'This is Fymryn.'
Dierdd removed his helm, high and pointed with sharp ridges. He bowed to Fymryn. 'I welcome you, Chosen of Mene.' When he straightened, his eyes had softened slightly. 'I am sorry for your loss.'
Fymryn averted her eyes and nodded slowly.
'Dierdd has been selected to lead the army.'
'Army?' Fymryn echoed, distracted from her sorrow.
'They call us the Dark Moon Horde. They believe it to be an insult, for we were the original Dark Moon Order.' Dierdd explained. 'For a long time, my predecessors have been opposing Selemene from the shadows, fighting a secret war. Now it is time for us to show our true strength.'
'You haven't thought about changing the name? It's confusing.'
Dierdd waved a hand. 'Let them call us what they will. It's irrelevant. What matters is our purpose, and when we have defeated Selemene, we will be the true Dark Moon Order once again.'
'How soon can we be in position?' the Invoker asked. Though his tone was still level, there was an edge of tension in his voice.
'We have assembled the siege engines and can have the golems awoken as soon as you give the word. But once we mobilise, it will not take them long to find us.'
'Wake the banshees. Have them kill any griffon patrols they come across. We move now.'
Dierdd nodded and began to shout orders.
Fymryn watched uncertainly as the sorcerers awoke the golems and the soldiers took up their arms. Men and women with spiked flails, lances, warhammers and scimitar-like swords climbed onto the backs of the feathered cockatrices. Archers moved to the back, soldiers with spears and war-scythes joined the shield bearers at the front. Another group of archers roused the banshees, which screeched and snapped razor-sharp teeth as their riders climbed into their saddles.
'Stay close to me, Fymryn,' the Invoker instructed. 'Mene has need of us both tonight.
Luna peered around the grounds as she walked alongside Lhara, her weapon in hand. Nova plodded along behind them.
'The lunar dragons are growing restless, as are many of the night-beasts.' Lhara reported.
Luna glanced up at the moon, unable to see it thanks to the thick clouds overhead. The spellsingers and acolytes were also uneasy, and she wondered if the clouds were natural.
Even after casting aside her old life, Luna had retained much of her paranoia. It had kept her alive for nearly a decade, in a time when a dagger to the heart or an arrow in the back were constant threats.
When Luna had joined the Dark Moon Order and become one of Selemene's crusaders, she had seen many glaring issues with the Temple's security. She had grown so frustrated with her commander's laziness that she had gone straight to the High Priestess and demanded to speak with Selemene.
Amazingly, the goddess had humoured her, and after a long talk about how the defences should be improved, Selemene had raised Luna to the rank of Commander of the Moon Riders, making all matters military related her business.
Luna had done what she could, improving recruitment and training, bolstering what defences they had, seeing that they had a decent number of night-beasts available for use. She had a feeling that those measures would soon be tested.
She would have liked to have had some siege engines at the ready, but Selemene had never allowed her to procure any. She insisted that this place had to remain a temple, not a battle-ready fortress.
Drysi would have liked the place, if she hadn't stayed with the other outcasts and refused to worship Selemene. Living with them had been hell. They might have claimed that Luna had elven blood, but she had still been the strange one, the outsider, the one who looked like an albino human, the child taken in out of pity.
Luna despised pity.
'Try to keep them calm,' Luna ordered. If the night-beasts were agitated, then something really was wrong. They were not easily spooked, and Luna had the feeling that their unease coincided with the arrival of the clouds shrouding the moon. It would not weaken any of them, or anybody blessed by Selemene, but the darkness would make it harder to spot incoming threats. 'Any word on our reinforcements?'
'They're on their way, but it'll take the nearest group a couple of days at least.'
'Anything else?'
'Two of the griffon riders are late.'
Luna stiffened and came to a halt. 'Who?'
'Daen and Morith.'
'Sound the alarm.'
'They could just be run—'
'Sound the alarm!' Luna barked. Daen was a bit slow on occasion, but Morith had never, ever been late. 'Have all troops take up their positions now. We can't wait for reinforcements. We fight with what we have.'
Lhara pulled a horn from her belt and sounded it, the clear, high note echoing around the commune. At once, soldiers not already manning the walls ran from the barracks, pulling on their helms and gauntlets, drawing their weapons. The Moon Riders climbed onto their mounts and the griffon riders held in reserve awaited the command to take to the skies.
Luna ran to the Temple, Nova loping along behind her. The call to arms must have been heard, because the doors burst open and Selemene Herself marched into the open.
The soldiers around Her dropped to one knee and genuflected. Selemene ignored them and frowned at Luna. 'He is here.'
Luna stopped. 'Who?'
'I felt his presence.' Selemene seemed to be talking to Herself. 'If he is here, he is here for one reason: to face me.' Now She spoke directly to Luna. 'There will be a man on the battlefield tonight: a sorcerer.'
'You want us to stop him, my lady?'
'No.' Selemene answered softly. 'You will not be able to.'
Like any corpse, it had attracted the attention of the scavengers. Now it was the corpses of the scavengers around it which were drawing in the crows and red kites, which in turn were being preyed upon by wildwings and harpies. All of them scattered as Terrorblade approached, fleeing before the Demon.
Things had gone extremely well for Terrorblade, despite his sky dragon avatar being reduced to little more than an oversized packhorse. His acquisition of a large part of the Royal Candoness Army was a major victory.
They had been surprisingly stupid, but stupid people were easy to manipulate. In the guise of General Heimgard, he had ordered all of his soldiers to congregate in the middle of the encampment and then unveiled the Direstone.
They had not lasted long. As it spread its influence through more thralls, the Direstone's radius grew wider. Thanks to his demonic nature, Terrorblade could resist it, and courtesy of the shard he carried, he could direct the thralls. Demon and Direstone were almost akin, both were beholden to a nature of destruction and ruin, both bringers of evil and darkness.
As its power grew, the Direstone also became stronger. Terrorblade had cast protections on it, useful considering that the priestess of Selemene and the Dragon Knight squire had tried to damage it in Trestaine. But now it was too powerful for any living being to risk approaching.
Except for the wurm-forged handmaiden, it seemed. Terrorblade had seen her resist its influence when she unleashed her power in Trestaine. Unsurprising. She was a radiant wurm-forged, after all.
Terrorblade had to admit that even he was surprised to find such a boon as this: a dead Eldwurm ready for the taking. But not just any Eldwurm. This was the one he had wanted to take all along: Vylgranox, Outcast and Arbiter, Eldwurm Unrecognised.
If one ignored his unique power, Vylgranox was actually one of the weaker Eldwurms. But his ability to negate the powers of his kin was what Terrorblade needed. And since Vylgranox had no avatars to transfer his soul into, that too was his to steal and consume.
And having an Eldwurm as an avatar would allow him to use Uldorak's power too.
He did not understand how Davion and his allies had managed to kill Vylgranox without incurring losses, but it did not matter, nor did he care. They would die soon enough. The Eldwurm bore a number of significant injuries, including ruptured acid glands, but he could manage without those.
He had hoped to possess Davion or Marci to fight Vylgranox, with his newly acquired army for support. But he no longer needed the Dragon Knight or the wurm-forged handmaiden.
They had played right into his hands.
Terrorblade had his avatar kneel next to the dead Eldwurm's head and place a hand on its sundered skull. 'Thank you, Dragon Knight. You have just given me my greatest weapon.'
The un-dead watched with unseeing eyes as Heimgard's jaw opened wider than it should have been able to, a vaporous green orb emerging and seeping into the dead Eldwurm's sightless eye.
Heimgard fell flat on his face, another soldier for Terrorblade's growing army.
The corpse of Vylgranox twitched, onyx masses forming over the wounds like aberrant mold.
When the eyes of Vylgranox opened, they were no longer swirls of vermilion and cerulean. Now they were an eldritch, evil green hue.
Terrorblade forced the avatar to its feet, the onyx tissue fusing the tears in the wings shut. Good enough for flight once again.
Terrorblade lifted his new avatar's head and sniffed at the air. He would send his army onwards, knowing where Davion was likely to seek refuge.
In the meantime, he had new prey to hunt. It was time to kill the Eldwurms.
Obviously, I've made some major changes to Drysi. There are reasons for this, which will hopefully fit in with Luna's backstory for this AU.
Not to end on a downer, but I will be stopping for a while after the 17th. Things have been less than stellar recently, and I need to take a step back, assess my work thus far. Regardless, I thank those of you have stayed with the story so far.
