Chapter Eighteen
Onward
When Luna awoke, the first thing she registered were the fingers touching her bare forearm.
Luna bolted upright, alert in less than a heartbeat, seizing her assailant by the throat and drawing her fist back.
'Calm down!' a stern voice commanded, seizing her arm before she could strike. 'Let her go!'
Luna blinked. Her attacker was not an attacker at all. She was one of the physicians who served the Dark Moon Order, and she was squirming and wheezing in Luna's strong grip.
Luna released her, quashing the rising shame. Her reflexes and instincts had kept her alive, she had no reason to be ashamed.
At the same time, she became aware of a throbbing pain in her left foot. She also felt drained and tired. Luna reached up and felt around her eyes, touching a faint line which had not been there yesterday.
Luna remembered it all too well. How they had been overcome by the Dark Moon Horde. How she had been bested by a girl who had probably never held a sword before in her life, a Nightblade chosen by Mene Herself.
And she remembered what Selemene had done.
Luna kicked back the covers, not caring that she was only clad in a simple shift or that she was observed. She ignored the physicians' protests as she limped over to the mirror and peered at her reflection.
They were there. Subtle, but noticeable. Around her eyes were faint lines—crow's feet, that was what they called them—and there were faint wrinkles on her forehead too. It was as if she had gained a few years in one night.
She remembered the desiccated, withered corpses of the ones Selemene had wrung dry. Allies, loyal followers, comrades. Luna was not sure she would have called them friends, but even so…
She had promised her life to Selemene, but to see Her take the lives of her fellow soldiers to sustain Herself had snapped something inside her.
Luna was a survivor. She had fled her homeland to survive, but there had been more to it than that. Though she had been saving herself, she had also run to protect her people. She'd told herself that she did not belong with them, that she did not love them. In truth though, she could not deny that she had cared about them, just as she had cared about her fellow soldiers in the Order.
What would Mirana have said if she had seen Selemene wringing the lives from Her followers? If she had been here… well, Marci would be dead for a start. She would never have allowed Selemene to harm Mirana, not without a fight. And Mirana…
Luna might not have been that keen on Mirana, and Mirana might not have been very fond of Luna, but she had cared in her own way. A bit like Drysi. In more than one way, Mirana had reminded Luna of Drysi. She was beautiful, a little haughty, desirable, but under that coldness she sometimes feigned, she was kind and warm. She'd seen it in the way she treated Marci, somebody who was her servant, yet whom she saw as a dear friend.
Luna had always brushed aside Mirana's apparent concern for her whenever she had returned from a mission, thinking that Mirana cared only for maintaining the strength of the Order's army. It was sensible. It was logical.
Now though, she found herself recalling how Mirana had phrased the questions, her face when she had spoken. Even Marci had mirrored that same concern, and Luna disliked her.
Luna traced the new lines on her face as the physicians tried to coax her back to the bed. Her eyes travelled down the length of her frame, taking in the scars on her arms.
Not all of them had been inflicted in battle. Some of them were her own doing. Marks she had carved into her own flesh when she had been younger, chastisement for deeds she had felt were not punished severely enough. It had felt both fulfilling and horrible to hurt herself in perceived recompense for her sins. She had never been good enough, not for the people who had taken her in, and so she had deserved pain when she angered them.
She'd stopped doing that when she had joined that gang, losing herself in the thrill of killing, the intoxication of alcohol, and the heady rush of carnal pleasures. But did that mean that she had stop punishing herself? Not as far as the alcohol was concerned, for she drank to forget.
She'd tried to mend her self-destructive ways when she had joined the Dark Moon Order. She'd thought that this was her second chance, living with the memories of her sins as her punishment whilst she carried out Selemene's divine will.
Some second chance that had turned out to be. Why did she always end up doing the bidding of killers?
Because she was a killer.
Luna continued to ignore the physicians as they told her that she had lost two toes and a chunk of her left foot during the battle. She'd live. That was the important thing.
No, there was more: she needed answers.
Luna turned abruptly, adjusting to the strangeness of her maimed foot quickly. 'My armour. Where is it?'
They both stared at her. 'Um… Commander, you should rest.'
'There are many things I should do. Resting is not one of them.' Luna stated icily, glaring at them. 'My armour. Find it. I'm going to see Selemene. If I have to do it half-naked, then so be it.'
They both gulped. Luna was taller than both of them, and with her arms exposed they could see her muscles clearly. The woman hurried outside.
Luna stood where she was, thinking, hands on her hips, glaring at the wall as she waited. The male physician hovered nervously, unsure of what to do or even if he should attempt to speak to her.
She ignored him. She had, as humans said, bigger fish to fry.
An elf back home had once accused her of being a human. She'd lost some teeth when Luna had introduced her fist to the elf's face. Nobody had called Luna human again.
The elders had berated her. Luna had not felt bad for punching the stupid girl, but she had felt more like an outsider afterwards. She looked down at her right arm and saw the old mark where she had dug her nails into her skin, trying to blot out her misgivings with pain again.
Her foot hurt under the bandages when she put pressure on it. Good. Pain made her focus.
The female physician tripped on the threshold, dropping Luna's cuirass, gambeson and spaulders. The steel clattered across the floor. Luna ignored the woman and scooped up her gambeson. She pulled on the gambeson just as a young soldier came hurrying in with her hosen, cuisses, greaves and boots. She ignored him too when he tripped over the woman, choosing instead to gather up her clothes and armour and start pulling them on.
Luna swept past them once she was done, walking normally despite her injured foot, dulling the pain with a combination of determination and anger. She stopped over the threshold and looked down at the soldier as he picked himself up. Not one of hers. The reinforcements must have arrived as she slept, too damn late to be of real help. 'My weapon?'
He hesitated.
'Where is my weapon?'
His mouth opened and closed. Luna resisted the urge to grab him by his collar and shake him, wondering if she would hear anything rattle in his seemingly empty skull. 'I… your room, Commander.'
Luna rolled her eyes as she strode down the corridor, the limp barely noticeable. Most of the doors were open, almost all of the rooms empty. The Dark Moon Horde had wiped out most of her soldiers. Or perhaps Selemene had.
Damn them. Damn them all.
Luna marched into her room, picked up her weapon, turned and marched back out without pausing.
They made a feeble effort to bring her back, and to stop her from leaving. She shoved the guards aside, all of them too afraid of her to draw a weapon.
Nova emerged from the stables, eager to greet Luna. Luna did not stop walking as Nova bounded to her side. She was actually glad to see the night-beast, and she patted her head to calm her. Nova could sense her mood and she growled faintly. Luna was on the warpath, which made Nova tense and eager for a fight.
Luna was only stopped when she reached the temple. The Sentinels crossed their glaives across the doors, blocking her path. 'You have not been summoned.'
Luna put one hand on her hip, the other clutched her double-ended weapon. 'Get out of my way.'
'No-one passes without the express permission of the goddess Herself.'
'Get. Out. Of. My. Way.' Luna tapped one end of her double-blade against the flagstones. There were still patches of blood interspersed amongst the craters.
Both Sentinels stiffened, their grip on their weapons tightening. Even though she was injured, Luna knew that she could kill both of them. Though Nova was ready to support her, she would not be needed.
The temple doors opened from the inside. A woman stuck her head out, one of Selemene's few remaining priestesses. She was trembling as she stared at Luna. Unsurprising. 'Luna has been summoned.'
The Sentinels stepped back, lifting their glaives away from the door. 'Leave your weapon outside.'
Luna scowled. 'No.'
The glaives were crossed again. 'Leave the weapon.'
'Or what? I might kill an immortal?' Luna grated.
'Please, Commander,' the priestess quivered. 'There's been enough death.'
Luna gazed at her. She couldn't have been older than twenty, and she was terrified.
Although Luna was used to instilling fear in others, she was not sure that the priestess was scared of her. If she was, something scared her more.
Luna grimaced and set aside her double-blade. She still had a dagger concealed up her sleeve.
She stepped past the shivering priestess and into the temple. They had cleared away the bodies, but that did nothing to erase the memories. She would have needed to drink herself into oblivion several times over to have a hope of changing that.
Luna marched into the inner sanctum, shoving the doors wide open. She almost dropped to one knee out of habit. Yet even her anger was not what stopped her.
Selemene was already present, and in a sorry state. Though she was still as tall as always, she was somehow diminished. Her sharp, striking face was bruised and there was dried blood crusted around her nostrils and lips. The robes she wore were spotted and streaked with blood, torn and dirtied. Some of the formerly perfect nails were chipped and broken.
Her eyes, once a bright violet, had dimmed.
She faced Luna, still managing to hold her head high. But it took more effort than usual, as if she was fighting a great weight. 'Do you love me?'
Luna did not answer the question. That remained to be seen.
'You are angry.'
'I watched our soldiers get slaughtered.'
'Then why is your anger directed at me?'
'Because you killed many of them.'
Selemene scowled, her bruises contrastingly dark against her pale skin. 'People die in war, Luna. You know this.'
'Yes, people die in war!' Luna snapped. 'But to be killed by the people they swore to protect? To have their very lives ripped from them? That isn't war. That is betrayal.'
Selemene stepped closer. Luna did not drop to her knee, move away or even avert her gaze. Before, Selemene had radiated pure, divine power. Now there was nothing. Though she could not die, she had no power over Luna.
Selemene looked down her nose at Luna, a nose which Luna noticed was now a little crooked. 'You swore that I would always have your love, Luna. You vowed to give your life for me, as did your comrades. Did you lie to me? Was my faith in you misplaced?'
'I did not lie. And I would have gladly given my life in battle. But what you did was wrong.'
'Do not speak to me of wrongness, Luna of Lleweyn. I knew what you were when you joined my service, Scourge of the Plains. You, who stole, lied, cheated, tormented and murdered men, women and children, I gave you sanctuary. I gave you a second chance.' She tilted her head, briefly baring her teeth. 'And yet you doubt me.'
Luna stepped closer, smaller yet not intimidated. 'You're right. I'm no saint. And you did give me sanctuary. But a second chance?' Luna shook her head. 'The one who fought me, the one who injured me, she was a Nightblade, the one Mene chose as a Champion,' she ignored the way Selemene scowled when she mentioned Mene, 'she fought for an evil goddess, a force intent on vengeance no matter how many people would suffer. But she was a better person than me.'
'And what makes you say that?'
'She had me at her mercy. I was her enemy. Yet she spared my life. More than that, she saved me from you.' Luna let that sink in before she spoke again. 'If it had been me, if I had held my blade against her throat, I would have killed her. I came here for a second chance, to be better than I was.' Luna sighed heavily. 'And what have I done? I've killed. I've murdered men, women and children, all in your name.'
'It was necessary.'
'You used me! You used all of us!'
'You said it yourself, Luna.' Selemene drew herself up to her full height. Luna did not back down. 'Mene is evil. No matter what She was before, She would kill us and thousands more to gain power. I saw Her grow paranoid and power-hungry. I stopped her. If I had to sacrifice you and all of our soldiers to defeat Her again, I would. Can you not understand why?'
Luna was silent. When she spoke, it was in a low murmur. 'And what about Mirana? Would you have killed her too?'
Selemene's face fell for just a moment, little more than a heartbeat. 'No sacrifice is too great.'
'She loves you. You love her. Yet you would kill her to keep your power?'
'There is a price for everything, Luna.'
'How many?'
'What?'
'How many Princesses of the Moon have come before her? I know that she was not the only one. How many have you killed?'
Selemene glared at her. 'They gave of themselves willingly.'
'And did you tell them what would happen? Did you tell Mirana? Did you tell Marci? Did you think it was somehow forgivable because you were sleeping with them?'
Silence. That was all she needed to hear. Mirana had not known, nor had any of the others before her. And if Marci had known, she would be dead. She would never have allowed Selemene to go near Mirana if she had known, not without a fight.
Luna shook her head. 'Maybe sacrifices are needed to stop Mene. Maybe we all need to die. But I ask you this: would you sacrifice yourself?'
Selemene stared at her with her dimmed eyes. 'You know that I cannot die.'
'Would you?'
Selemene sighed softly. 'I love Mirana. But if it would stop Mene from returning, then I would take her life. I would take any life.'
'Listen to yourself!' Luna hissed. 'I am not a good person. I am a murderer. But I would not—'
'And how many have you killed to save yourself?' Selemene demanded. 'How dare you claim to be better than me?'
'The difference is that I want to be better than I was.' Luna grated. 'I killed for you. I would have given my life in battle for the Order. But you wouldn't give yours for any of us, or even for Mirana, whom you claim to love.
When I confronted them in the forest, do you know what happened? I had Mirana at the point of a dozen weapons. And Marci put herself in front of Mirana. She was weak with hunger. She was hurt. She was tired. But she did not hesitate. She would have given her life for Mirana's with no fear for herself. She made her choice with her eyes open. Nobody tricked her or lied to her, it was her choice.' Luna lowered her head and sighed heavily. 'Maybe that's why I hated her so much, because she was always a better person than me. She was what I wanted to be when I joined the Order: selfless, devoted, loved. And Mirana… she had what I never did: respect. True respect. My soldiers fear me, they know who I am. But that never bothered her. They loved her, and she cared for the others, she cared for Marci—and she was her servant. And even though Marci would die for her, Mirana would sooner give her own life than let her die.'
'You were jealous of Mirana because I chose her instead of you.'
'Once. Not now. She is better than you. She is worth following.'
They faced each other, both silent, both refusing to blink. At last, Selemene stepped back and averted her eyes. 'You have made your choice.'
'Yes.' Luna confirmed. She reached up and unfastened the buckles holding her cuirass in place. She let it fall with a clatter, then tore off the rest of her armour, standing before Selemene in just her gambeson and hosen. 'I renounce you. I am leaving the Dark Moon Order. I will not die for somebody who will not die for the people she claims to protect, not when she steals their lives to fuel her own.'
'You know what this means.'
'Yes, I do.' Luna kicked away her cuirass. 'I'm leaving now. Don't stop me.' She turned on her heel and started towards the door.
'Luna.'
Luna did not stop.
'Please wait, Luna.'
Luna stopped. It was not a command. It was a request, and so softly and quietly spoken that it was almost pitiful. She did not turn around though.
'I would ask something of you, Luna, something I can entrust only to you.'
'I'm done taking orders from you.'
'I must ask. I'm not giving you an order, Luna. It will be your choice. But it matters. It matters to more than just me.'
Luna turned her head, looking at Selemene over her shoulder. She was even more diminished now, less a goddess and more a mortal woman, hurt, broken.
Alone.
Luna knew what it was like to be alone. She hated pity, but she could not deny it now. She turned to face her former goddess. 'Then ask.'
'I can't stop Mene now.'
'Neither can I.'
'I know. But Mirana can.'
'Even if she could still call upon your blessings, she could not defeat a goddess.'
'You don't know who she truly is, Luna, or what she is. I allowed her to stay for another reason, to watch over her and her handmaiden. I grew to love her, against my better judgement, despite what she is. Her handmaiden has a power, and I hoped we could harness it to make our army more powerful.
But Mirana is something more, something greater: she is the true heir to the Solar Throne of the Helio Imperium. She is the Princess of the Sun.'
'And you want me to bring her back to you?'
Selemene's once perfect, bruised face creased. 'Yes. I would. But it cannot be so, not now. I would ask you to find her and defend her. It is time for her to reclaim her birthright.
It is time for her to ascend.'
When they found themselves outside the Invoker's tower, rendered invisible to all but Fymryn and Marci—once she was wearing her amulet again—they faced each other, the silence pregnant with tension.
Mirana's frown lifted and she swayed, paling. Her lips parted, but she said nothing.
Marci moved to her side and touched her arm, her eyes wide.
Mirana gazed up at the sky, the clouds parting as if obeying her wish to see the moon. She gasped when she saw it: the blood flowing from a gradually widening wound, staining the sky around it crimson.
Fymryn looked down at her feet as Mirana's eyes began to brim with tears. Marci was also staring up at the moon, almost as shocked as Mirana was terrified and upset.
'By all the gods!' Eserren breathed. 'What is that?'
Mirana lowered her eyes, her gaze landing upon Fymryn. 'What have you done?'
The question emerged breathy and quiet, but Fymryn flinched as if Mirana had screamed at her.
'Do you know what this means?' Mirana whispered, her face frighteningly pale, her eyes wide with fear. 'Fymryn… you've doomed us all!'
'It had to be done.' Fymryn murmured, still unable to meet Mirana's gaze.
'Fymryn, thousands of people,hundreds of thousands, will die if Mene returns! Maybe Selemene was wrong to persecute your kind, but this… how could you condone this?'
Fymryn lifted her head, finally looking Mirana in the eye. 'And what would you have done to the one who stole your throne? What would you have done to the one who killed your family and Marci's?'
'I never wanted to take it back!' Mirana retorted, her voice rising.
'Enough!' Davion cut in, putting himself between them. This could only end badly. The last thing they needed was to fight amongst themselves. 'What's done is done.'
'Davion!' Mirana snapped.
'Stopping Terrorblade is what matters now.' Caewyn spoke softly, her light tone slightly clipped.
'Yes.' Davion agreed. 'If you two want to kill each other later, then that is your choice. But the Invoker and Slyrak were both right. If Terrorblade succeeds, none of this will matter.'
Mirana glared at Fymryn as she exhaled. 'Davion, Selemene has been hurt. I can feel it. If Mene is returning, it means that Selemene no longer has the power to hold Her back. I no longer have Her blessings, Davion.'
'Then we must make do without them.' Eserren stated. 'You still have your weapons.'
'Eserren...'
'We have no choice, Princess.'
Marci touched Mirana's arm and nodded slowly. Eserren was right. With or without Selemene's blessings, they had to find a way.
Mirana turned away so that they couldn't see her face. It was a horrible choice she faced now. She knew that Selemene was hurt. She wanted to return to the temple and see Her, to try to help Her in any way she could.
What good would she be against Terrorblade anyway? Without her blessings, she was almost useless. But if she left the group, Marci would accompany her. No matter how she felt about Davion, or how badly she wanted to stop Terrorblade, Mirana always came first for Marci.
Mirana sighed. Marci was more than capable of being independent, but she took her oath much too seriously. Her loyalty was touching and comforting, but it was also stifling her.
'Mirana,' Davion spoke softly, 'if you want to go back, we won't stop you.'
'No.' Mirana breathed. 'There's… there's nothing I can do.' Though it was painful to admit, it was true. All she could do was try to comfort Selemene. Given what was at stake, Selemene would understand. And the simple fact of the matter was that she had promised to help Davion, and Davion was going to need Marci's help.
And if Davion was dying, she did not want to separate him and Marci. It would hurt her, she knew that, but they deserved to have at least a little time together.
'Come on,' Mirana turned back to them, working hard to keep her emotions under control. 'We should move.' She did not look at Fymryn. She did not think she could ever find it in her heart to forgive the elf, but for now they were allies. They could fight later.
How could everything be going so awfully wrong? Was this all some cosmic joke played by the cruellest of gods?
Every time she and Marci found some semblance of happiness, it was snatched away. The Bloody Dance. The theft of the lotuses. Now this.
Mirana glanced at Marci, and felt her heart swell with pity. Despite Selemene's downfall, it was Marci who evoked her sympathy more. No doubt she was blaming herself for the loss of the lotuses, just as Mirana knew she unfairly blamed herself for not being able to stop Shabarra.
Perhaps it would not have been so bad if they had been able to save Davion. She could have at least stood a chance of being with somebody she loved, and being loved in turn. But it was not to be.
Marci looped Sagan's reins around her arm and led him forwards. They were now reliant on the Dragon Knights in the group for direction.
Mirana sighed and took hold of the reins. 'Let me,' she whispered. Marci smiled sadly and allowed her to lead Sagan. She caught up to Davion and touched his arm. Davion let her entwine her fingers with his.
'Hey,' Caewyn called. 'Over here.'
Mirana led Sagan towards her. Caewyn and Eserren had stopped before a small glade. The way it was banked, with the trees arrayed around it, suggested that it had not formed naturally. Somebody had shaped it, and they could all guess who was responsible.
The Invoker had taken his time in creating this space, his dedication obvious. Mirana felt a distinct sense of foreboding when she gazed upon it.
Caewyn walked across the narrow stone bridge and onto the small circle of land, full of flowers. In the middle of it was a white stone, stark and obvious amongst the oasis of colourful blooms around it, a grave marker.
'I think it's a name.' Caewyn stated. 'But I can't read it.'
'Filomena.' Fymryn stated. 'That's who it's for. The Invoker's daughter,' she looked to Mirana. 'Selemene's daughter. She allowed her own daughter to die because she would not worship her.'
Mirana opened her mouth to protest, then thought better of it. She had no hope of swaying Fymryn, she knew that now.
Her gaze fell on Caewyn as she stared at the grave. Eserren had said that the Dark Moon Order had killed Caewyn's people. It would have been before Mirana had joined the Order, before even Luna had. She found herself recalling Luna's cold, fierce eyes and her brusque, forceful ways.
Luna actually scared her a little. It was very obvious that she was dangerous. Even her own soldiers had been wary of her. Thinking about it, only Selemene had not been afraid of her. Nor had Marci, and Mirana suspected this was why Luna had disliked Marci.
Had Luna been massacring people faithful to Mene whenever she had left with the Moon Riders?
Mirana had no idea who or what to believe in now. Sometimes it felt like the only one she could truly rely on was Marci.
Marci whistled sharply.
Mirana seized her bow and nocked an arrow as the others readied their weapons. Marci had spotted something approaching.
From the clanking sound, one of them was wearing plate, and was making no effort to sneak up on them. There was also the unmistakeable sound of hoof-beats, slow and unhurried.
Davion was grinding his teeth, annoyed that he hadn't thought to wear the new armour. Marci was bouncing on the balls of her feet, her fists raised.
Out of the darkness came a familiar shape, similar to a centaur but not the same. The staff was something of a giveaway too.
'Aiushtha?' Mirana relaxed her arms. 'Were you following us?'
Aiushtha raised her eyebrows, digging absently at the soil with a hoof. 'Aren't you glad to see me?'
'Yes,' Davion answered, ignoring the questioning look he received from Marci. 'We just didn't expect to see you again so soon.'
Marci poked him, eyeing him from the corner of her eye, and pointed at the trees, miming walking.
'Who's with you?' Eserren inquired, getting Marci's point. 'We heard something else besides you.'
'Ah, yes.' Aiushtha sidestepped. 'We thought it would be best if I showed myself first. This is my… ally, I guess?'
Leading a heavily laden horse by the bridle was a man in ornate plate, steel chased with silver and gold. Held over one shoulder was a long-hafted hammer.
Mirana recognised the distinctive runes on the cloth draped across his shoulders, along with the symbol etched into his cuirass. He was an Omniknight. They had become something of a rarity in the last century or so. People found it hard to keep faith in a supposedly omnipotent deity which seemed to do little to prevent calamities.
Mirana resisted the urge to lift her bow again. There was some animosity between the Dark Moon Order and the Omniknights. The Omniknights had once opposed Mene. Despite Selemene's ascension, they were still mistrustful of the Dark Moon Order.
Davion lowered his sword and rested it, point down, on the ground. 'Well met, Omniknight.' Judging from the fact that Eserren and Caewyn had also relaxed, the Dragon Knights had no quarrel with the Omniscience.
Marci glanced at Mirana, who nodded slowly. Marci lowered her fists, but kept her feet apart in a partial stance.
'Greetings, Princess Mirana,' the Omniknight inclined his head respectfully. 'It is a privilege to meet you at last, your majesty.'
Mirana flushed a little. 'I'm not… I'm not royalty, Omniknight. You're mistaken.' She realised that statement was a little absurd. There was no lying to an Omniknight.
Not that she saw it as lying. She was an exile, and Shabarra would have done all he could to make her claim null and void.
'You are, Princess Mirana.' The Omniknight was not fazed. 'I am Purist Thunderwrath of the Order of the All-Seeing, servant of the Omniscience.'
Caewyn suppressed a chortle at his name, turning with both hands clapped over her mouth.
'Caewyn!' Eserren hissed reproachfully. 'I apologise, Sir. My daughter can be… immature at times.'
'No apology is necessary, Lady Eserren.' He turned back to Mirana. 'Princess, I have been sent to aid you, in the Battle for Creation, and to ensure your ascension.'
'My ascension?' Mirana echoed. 'What are you talking about?'
'It is the will of the Omniscience that Terrorblade be stopped, the Dark Moon too. For that reason you must survive, Princess. I am to ensure that, by any means necessary.'
Mirana shook her head. 'I am an exile. And I can't stop the Dark Moon.'
'Believe me, Princess Mirana, with Selemene defeated, you are the only one who can.'
Aiushtha snorted as they stared at the Omniknight, flabbergasted. 'Did I mentioned that he does this a lot?'
Callardis ignored Shabarra's grumbling as they rode into the open. As God Emperor, he was a man to be followed and obeyed, but he was not a soldier. Hardship was new to him.
They had waited until nightfall again, concealed by the trees. This was going to be the most dangerous part of the journey, even at night. The sphinxes would find it easier to locate them in the open. They would have to ride quickly and be sure to find shelter long before daybreak.
At least it was not far to the Sovereign Peaks. Two days at least, if they drove the horses hard. But there was a stretch of desert before the mountains, and they could not afford to lose the horses there. Water was sparse around the Peaks.
Callardis had no need of a map. The Sovereign Peaks were as plain as day, drawing closer with every step they took. Why Kashurra needed them to go there was not his concern, he cared only about getting Shabarra there alive.
'I'm tired of sleeping with a damn root stuck in my back.' Shabarra whined. 'How much longer?'
'We'll be heading out into the open soon. We will have less time to rest. We need to move quickly.'
'Should we split up?' Kholit asked.
'No.' Callardis answered. 'If they find us, we'll need the advantage of numbers.'
'Yes,' Shabarra nodded, wanting to be kept safe. 'That would be best.'
One of the guards had just tipped back his flask when it happened.
Callardis snatched up his labrys when the man screamed, yanked out of his saddle by a long leg with too many joints. The horse whinnied and bolted.
Shabarra screamed as the pabilsag jabbed one of its stingers into the unlucky Sun Guard's neck. The man went limp, jerking erratically as the venom killed him.
'Pabilsag!' Kholit yelled, drawing his sword.
Callardis hefted his labrys. He urged his horse towards the pabilsag, directing it with his legs so that he could use both hands. He swung his axe, but it bounced off the hardened carapace in a shower of sparks.
Pabilsags were sometimes called "ironlegs", a testament to their toughness. They were notoriously hard to kill with blades. Even enchanted weapons, like Callardis' axe, were ineffective against their natural armour.
Callardis managed to stop himself from falling off the horse. He grabbed the reins and brought the animal around. 'Kholit, with me! The rest of you, guard the God Emperor!'
Shabarra cowered behind his guards as Kholit raced forwards, his sword at the ready.
Callardis adjusted his grip on the heavy labrys. It was an unwieldy weapon to use on horseback, but he had nothing more substantial.
Kholit moved around the pabilsag, trying to draw its ire. For a creature with multiple eyes, it was not that perceptive. Its gaze was focused forwards, like most predators. Its array of eyes were not meant to spot multiple targets, but rather to aid in tracking one.
The pabilsag held on to the dead Sun Guard, reluctant to drop its meal. It chittered and withdrew towards Callardis, who released the reins, seized the haft of his labrys with both hands, and swung it upwards into the pabilsag's thorax.
That was armoured too and he nearly fell off the horse again. Snarling, he rode under the long-legged ironlegs and spun the horse about. Kholit tried next, and his aim was better. His sword bit into the more vulnerable tissue between the chitinous plates.
The pabilsag staggered, but still refused to drop the dead Sun Guard. That was fine as far as Callardis was concerned. One less leg with which to attack. But it had seven more.
Balancing on five legs, it jabbed at Kholit with two limbs, stingers extended and dripping venom. Kholit ducked. One of the stingers struck him, but skimmed harmlessly off his spaulder.
Callardis rode in again, yelling to draw the pabilsag's gaze. As it turned to face him, he swung the axe at its head. The pabilsag's head was armoured too, but its eyes were not. His scorching blade slashed across a cluster of eyes. He lost his grip on the weapon and it fell to the ground, but he had scored a wound, and the pabilsag was partially blinded.
'Commander!' Kholit yelled, seeing him disarmed.
'Attack it again!' Callardis ordered. He rode towards Shabarra as Kholit distracted the pabilsag. He thrust the reins at one of the guards, jumped down and ran towards his weapon. He snatched it up, waiting for the opportune moment. He would have less momentum on foot, but his weapon would be easier to control.
Kholit was thrown from his horse when the pabilsag slammed its leg into his chest. His cuirass was dented by the force, and he hit the ground heavily, wheezing and gasping for breath.
Callardis stepped in, swinging his labrys in a wide arc. The scorching blade sliced cleanly through the joint, cauterizing the flesh it cleaved. The pabilsag shrieked and tottered, trying to adjust to losing a leg through its pain.
Callardis swung again, going for a leg on the same side to further unbalance the creature. It staggered again, dropping its prize, lowering its body and exposing the joint between thorax and head.
With a bellow of bloodlust, Callardis lifted the axe and swung it into the gap between the plates. The pabilsag's blood hissed into steam as the labrys bit deep into the flesh.
The pabilsag fell, legs splaying out and twitching, unable to stand with the pain inflicted upon it. One leg slammed into Callardis' thick spaulder, but he took the blow stoically, growled, and swung his axe into the steaming wound again. The pabilsag screeched once again, then fell still.
Callardis wrenched his labrys free and stepped away from the corpse.
Shabarra was shaking in his saddle, peeking out from behind his guards. Kholit was still on the ground, struggling to breathe. His cuirass had saved his life, but he was badly hurt.
Callardis approached him and knelt at his side. He removed the breastplate, ignoring Kholit's anguished yelps, unfastened his gambeson and lifted his tunic. His chest was already swelling with livid bruises. The man likely had broken ribs. 'Can you stand?'
Kholit tried to lift himself up, but cried out and fell back. Spinal damage too. The man wasn't going anywhere fast. He coughed and grimaced. 'I can't, Commander. I'm sorry.'
Callardis considered their options. They could try to put Kholit back on his horse, it had not bolted. But he would be in constant pain and would slow them down. With his spine damaged, he was hardly in any condition to ride quickly or even walk.
Kholit seemed to understand. 'Leave me, Commander.'
'Yes, leave him!' Shabarra agreed. 'We have a chance for me to retake the Solar Throne. We can't risk it all for one soldier.'
Callardis was nothing if not brutally practical. Victory demanded sacrifice. He was also extremely loyal to Shabarra, the man who had ensured his elevation from Centurion to Commander of the Sun Guard. Shabarra had proven himself capable of making hard choices to strengthen the Imperium, of doing whatever it took to secure his position. To somebody like Callardis, he was worth following.
Of course, weak, soft-hearted fools like Gavenus and Mirana would have disagreed. But the strong lived, and the weak perished. It was the way of the world.
Kholit had fought well, but Shabarra was right.
'You have served well, Sun Guard.' Callardis drew his dagger. 'You'll be remembered as a hero when the God Emperor takes back his throne.'
Kholit closed his eyes in assent, and Callardis rammed the dagger into his heart. He withdrew it without ceremony, leaving the corpses where they lay.
Shabarra hid his impatience. He was down to just three guards, and he needed to keep them loyal. 'Well done, Commander.'
Callardis climbed onto his horse. 'Let's make haste. The sphinxes may catch the pabilsag's scent.'
He took the lead, with Shabarra and the two surviving Sun Guard following him out onto the plains. He knew these plains well. Before he had been elevated as a Sun Guard, he had once hoped to capture or kill the infamous Scourge of the Plains, a ruthless killer who had once plagued this area.
The Scourge was no longer his concern though, and had apparently vanished. Dead, most likely.
Dead was how he preferred all of the God Emperor's enemies. He was looking forwards to killing the Slayer when they returned to Rasolir at the head of an army.
This was absurd.
This was all too much.
Marci cradled her head in her hands as Mirana and Purist conversed quietly by the fire.
The Omniknight had made it abundantly clear that even his patron did not know everything right now, and that its sight was clouded by Mene's influence. All he had been able to tell her was that she was somehow critical to stopping Mene's return, something to do with her being the Princess of the Sun.
Marci had never thought to take the title so literally.
Mirana was special. Maybe not in an obviously magical sense, but she was special to Marci, and so many others because she was… well, Mirana.
It wasn't just this latest revelation though. She was still reeling over the need to somehow stop Terrorblade, who by all accounts sounded like an unstoppable, unkillable horror. Mene was returning because she had failed to guard the lotuses, meaning that her place in the Nightsilver Woods was forfeit.
And Davion was dying. Worse. He might live in the sense that his body would endure, but his soul would be lost, consumed by Slyrak.
She did not want to lose him. He meant too much to her.
When they had met in Barreltown, she had liked him from the start. She had admitted to herself more than once that she would have contentedly allowed him to seduce her. She had wanted him to. If Mirana had not been there, she would have spent the night with him. He was just the kind of man she admired: tall, strong, handsome, with a cheery smile and warm eyes.
But he had proven to be so much more than that. He was the first man to actually express an interest in her, the first she had felt something more than friendship for, and the first to reciprocate that interest. It hadn't bothered him that she could not speak, that she had scars, that she was freakishly strong, that in terms of beauty she was insignificant compared to Mirana and so many other women. He'd made it clear that he wanted to be with her.
Her.
Even with everything going wrong, she had thought that perhaps she had found somebody she could be with. She had perhaps found a man she could…
Love.
But it could not happen. She would be denied even that.
Marci lowered her head to her knees. She wanted to shout, rage, scream. It was so unfair!
Everything she touched turned to ashes. Everything except for Mirana, and she would sooner die than allow that to happen.
'I don't have any power.' Mirana was telling Purist. 'I only had Selemene's blessings, nothing more.'
'I know only what my master has told me.' Purist said calmly. 'The Princess of the Sun is critical to stopping the Dark Moon.'
'Then ask Shabarra!' Mirana grated. 'He's the Emperor. I'm an exile.'
'If I was supposed to find your uncle, I would have been told to.' Purist still spoke calmly and slowly. 'From what I have heard, he is an evil man. He would not help me, not unless he could profit in some way.'
Mirana shook her head. 'I cannot help you. Not without Selemene's blessings.'
'You are more than Selemene's blessings, Princess. Much more. Perhaps you will believe me in time.' Purist had decided to let the subject drop. 'This is not relevant now. There will be little point in opposing Mene if Terrorblade—'
'Wins.' Mirana interrupted. 'I've heard that before.'
Purist wisely decided to stop speaking. They had accepted his help. Mirana's ascension was something they could only deal with if Terrorblade was defeated.
She did not need to believe him anyway. He knew little of it himself, sure that the Omniscience would provide the details when the time was right.
Aiushtha had been quiet throughout, unsure of what to say. She was finding this all hard to comprehend. She had believed Purist when it came to Terrorblade. All this talk of Princesses of the Sun was harder to believe, especially since Mirana herself, the supposed Princess of the Sun in question, seemed unwilling to believe it herself.
Marci glanced at Eserren and Caewyn as they went through their supplies. For once, Marci did not feel hungry. She wanted to speak to Davion, but she did not know if she could face him.
She had promised to help him.
She had failed him too.
Marci whistled to Mirana and indicated that she was going to walk the perimeter. Mirana's face creased as she nodded. She understood how Marci felt, and she knew that she needed to be alone.
Marci stood and left the camp. She wasn't going far, just somewhere quieter.
She gravitated towards the sound of lapping water, a river they had stopped by to refill their waterskins. Marci stood on the bank and gazed up at the moon and the stars. The open wound on the moon's surface was spreading, and the blood was seeping into the night sky, staining the inky depths it touched.
Marci shuddered, feeling a fresh wave of guilt and shame crash over her. This was all her fault.
For a moment, she was sorely tempted to run back to the camp and attack Fymryn. She had helped to bring this about. She had stolen the lotuses. She had helped the Invoker to bring down Selemene. If Fymryn had not stolen the lotuses…
Marci sighed and sat down. What good would it do? Besides, some part of her still saw Fymryn as a friend. She could not fault her for fighting for what she believed in.
What was done was done. Taking out her frustrations on Fymryn would only risk divisions they could ill afford.
And it was her fault. Not Fymryn's.
She considered practising combat techniques, or even just punching a tree until it fell or she lost all feeling. She simply did not have the energy though.
Marci slid off her boots and paddled her sore feet in the river, sighing as the cool water soothed her skin. This was one of those times when she wished that she could just stop thinking, just for a moment.
How bad was this for Davion? He was the one whose time was drawing short. If she could have traded her lifespan for his, she would.
He deserved better, just like Mirana.
Marci sighed and ran a hand through her hair. It was full of grit again, just like childhood.
At least she could sort that problem out easily enough.
Marci considered, then started to disrobe. Often she did some of her better thinking when she bathed.
Maybe they could still help Davion.
One problem at a time, that was the best way to deal with this. Stop Terrorblade, then perhaps they could figure out the rest. They were going to Dragon Keep, perhaps the Dragon Knights could be convinced to help Davion, as they should have done in the first place. Just because the Invoker was a powerful mage, it did not mean that he knew everything, or that he was right about this. For all she knew, he could have been lying.
If the Dragon Knights were unwilling to help… well, maybe she could pummel the important ones until they changed their minds. Davion was more than worth the effort.
Davion had volunteered to go on watch just to try and clear his head.
When he had agreed to help Marci and Mirana, it had all been so simple. Find their missing lotuses and perhaps find a cure for his condition into the bargain.
Then Fymryn had turned up. And then the Dragon Knights had become involved. He'd learned that Mirana and Marci had fled the Helio Imperium and were being hunted. There was a Demon seeking to ruin everything. Marci had a radiant dragon's blood in her veins. A banished goddess intent on vengeance was returning. Mirana was somehow supposed to stop her if they somehow defeated the invincible Demon...
Oh, and he was going to lose his soul. Yes, everything was so simple.
Davion sighed and came to a stop. At least the new armour fit comfortably. He wasn't sure if he believed the Invoker's story about somebody killing an Eldwurm. As far as he was aware, there had been no Eldwurm of Fire before Slyrak.
But as he was quickly learning, he knew very little in reality. It was enough to make his head spin.
He might have been more accepting of his fate if it wasn't for Marci. This had to be heartbreaking for her, and she had suffered enough as it was.
He did not want to lose her either. She was the first woman he had truly felt something real for, something more than just a lustful desire for sex. She was the first woman whom he might…
Love.
That was one simple truth he had been reluctant to admit since leaving the Invoker's tower. Yet it was true, undeniably so.
Davion trudged through the grass almost aimlessly. He was so distracted that he barely noticed the sounds of water splashing.
He paused and frowned. The river was too shallow for a water drake. Troglodytes perhaps?
Davion crept forwards, grasping his sword tightly. The splashing ceased for a moment, then resumed.
Davion moved his right wrist. Nothing happened.
He rolled his eyes. Unlike his previous set of armour, the glowing shard supposedly standard to all Dragon Knights was concealed in the left bracer. Well, that actually made more sense since he was right-handed. He flicked his left wrist and the shard, a warm orange this time, leapt into place and illuminated the river before him.
He gaped stupidly.
Marci reacted more quickly, covering her chest with her arms. Her face started to quickly redden, right to the roots of her damp auburn hair. Water dripped from her unbound hair and ran down her pale skin, glittering in the light, accentuating her athletic form.
Davion turned away and sheathed the shard. 'Sorry, Marci. I didn't know you were there.'
He half expected her to throw something at him. He wouldn't have blamed her. He could feel his own face burning, as well as a tightness in his chest which made his rapid heartbeat feel that much more intense. He tried to not dwell on what he had just seen, feeling like a voyeur.
He had barely noticed the scars. As far as he was concerned, she was beautiful in spite of them.
He started to move away, wondering if Marci would slap him later or if she would simply refuse to acknowledge what had happened. He could always give her the opportunity to beat him up by offering to spar with her.
Marci whistled softly.
He stopped. She wanted him to stay.
Davion sat against a tree, facing away from Marci. He heard her step out of the water, and he heard the faint rustle of clothing as she dressed. He only looked up when he heard her step close.
She smiled down at him, pulling her hair back into the usual messy tail. She was still blushing, her damp clothes clinging to her skin.
'I'm sorry about that.'
Marci sat down next to him, practically leaning on him. He removed his bracer, ejected the shard, and placed it on the ground. Marci signed slowly at him, still blushing.
It's all right. I knew you were out here. I should have warned you.
Davion leaned back against the tree. Marci's proximity was intoxicating, and also soothing. 'Well, it makes up for all the times you've seen me naked.'
Marci huffed. Are you saying that I planned this? She was smiling with a hint of slyness, her eyes twinkling in the light of the shard.
'Did you?'
Marci shook her head. Her smile had fallen away.
Davion sighed. He knew what was bothering her. 'I'm sorry. I… I think a part of me always knew. But I was stupid. I should have thought more carefully. If I'd known how much it would hurt you...'
Marci reached out and cupped his cheek, drawing his face towards hers. She did not need to sign to make her thoughts known.
She did not blame him, nor did she regret what had formed between them.
Slowly, she tilted her head forwards and rested her forehead against his. She closed her eyes, still holding his face. As Davion closed his own eyes, he realised what she was telling him.
She was not going to give up. She would not give up on him.
She tilted her head again, and he felt her forehead move from his. Her nose rubbed against his and he felt her lips brush against his mouth.
He couldn't deny her. Nor did he want to. He returned the kiss, deciding to at least savour whatever time they might have left together.
Slyrak grumbled under the surface of his thoughts. Davion tuned him out, though it felt as though Slyrak was simply going to tolerate this. Maybe he'd decided that Davion ought to know a little contentment before the end. Perhaps he had gained a smidgen of respect for Marci. Whatever the reason, Davion was grateful when he withdrew.
Davion put his arms around Marci and held her close. Marci sighed, wrapped her arms around him, and kissed him again. If she wasn't going to give up, neither would he. She was perhaps the only one who had truly kept faith in him after Slyrak had become a part of him.
For her, he would fight until the end of time. He decided then and there, as they held each other, that he would not give up, that he would find a way, that he would hold on.
He would do it for Marci, because he loved her.
Many thanks to Annbe11 for some great advice which came in useful for this chapter. Romance does not come naturally to me, so the advice was exceptionally helpful.
I'm sure that many of you have heard the news about Book Three of Dragon's Blood premiering soon. Perhaps some of you are asking how this will affect Ascension. Does this mean that I'm going to stop? Will the story change? Is there any point in Ascension continuing?
Here are my answers:
Am I going to stop?
No, I am not going to stop. Come hell or high water, for better or for worse, I am going to finish this. I never like to leave any story, good or bad, unfinished. Despite the many flaws I am sure are part of this tale, I feel that it is one of the best I have ever written. That probably isn't saying much, but there it is.
Will the story change?
No. What I have planned is staying in. At this point, the story is already complex enough as it is, and making major changes will cause problems. You'll understand why at the end. To clarify, don't expect any content from Book Three to appear in the story. If anything does, it's coincidental.
Is there any point in carrying on?
I'd like to think so. I have my reasons. At the very least, I want to finish. Rarely have I been so heavily invested in or so passionate about writing a story. I hope anybody reading this is happy to know that Ascension will continue, and I hope that you enjoy reading it.
Speaking of continuing, my updates may be less frequent than before. Please bear with me. I have been pushing myself pretty hard lately. As they say, Rome was not built in a day.
Reviews would be very welcome at this point, I love getting feedback and it encourages me, or at least shows me where I'm going wrong. For those who have been following and providing feedback, I am very grateful. Thank you for sticking with me thus far, and I hope to see you all at the end of the journey.
