Chapter 24 - Samn

The first thing we notice as the battle patrol of Thundria's best and Shodawa's oldest arrives on the cliffside overlooking the castle is that it stinks like the Blacklands.

"What is that?" Sir Styrp exclaims, his face twisting in disgust.

"They have no respect for food," Aish grunts and Dawhnnea nods, looking sickened. "They see preparing it as beneath them. Savages, the lot of them. They hunt their prey down and roast it over open fires and eat when they're hungry. Because apparently cooking is for women and they'd rather tear a chunk of flesh off a recently dead animal."

Sounds about right, I think, snorting to myself. It's beneath them, so instead they'll eat like wild animals and not bother trying to avoid poisoning themselves. I guess food poisoning isn't beneath them.

"Maybe I'll take Weayt to the bakery in Vide," Dawhnnea says wistfully. "He's always liked his pastries. I can't imagine what life has been like for him…"

Yllowei gives her a surprisingly sympathetic look. "All you stinking of Thundria follow me, we'll disguise your trace with the rond de sorcières nearby."

"You want us to roll in an elf ring?" Sir Strommer demands, translating for the less worldly among us.

Yllowei raised an eyebrow that clearly communicated, Scared? and Sir Strommer relents with a sigh. "Very well. Everyone on your guard, though."

The elders cluster together, murmuring in low tones as Yllowei Fennen leads the Thundrian patrol towards the edge of a ring of pale white, ghostly-looking mushrooms. Elf rings are circles of white mushrooms that elves use to communicate with each other about mates, territory, and nearby dangers, my memory informs me. Highly dangerous for non-elves. I guess we'll just have to hope that there aren't any elves nearby.

The patrol slowly fans out at the edge of the mushrooms and Yllowei is the first to step in. It's as though the whole forest is holding its breath, but when no immediate danger produces itself, everyone relaxes a little.

"If you see a toad, run. If you hear a voice, run. If you hear music…" she trails off, looking at us sharply. "Any guesses?"
"Run," Sir Wynnd volunteers, cracking his knuckles.

"And don't look back," Lady Fennen finishes. "On my mark."

She holds up her hand and we all tense, then she slices it through the air and we all step over the line of the mushroom into the ring and concentrate.

The murky world of the Trace begins to flood the air around me and I breathe deeply, trying to summon all the traces of elves that lingers in the air. I slip into it and nearly have a heart attack when I realize that the traces are quite literally everywhere. I draw them into me, trying to imagine them cloaking me, wrapping me in their sickly sweet taste…

I hear the chime of bells.

Then a voice, airy as the wind through a flute, singing.

He wha tills the fairies' green

Nae luck again shall hae,

My heart stutters to a stop in my chest and I brace myself. Praying to the Starlaxi that I have enough surrounding me, I break back into the real world and leap out of the ring.

Then again, softer this time, but more light voices joining the first…

And he wha spills the fairies' ring

Betide him want and wae.

I run, straight back to where Aish, Sir Pault, and Lady Clouhd stand, bewildered, and skid to a halt, panting. Could the rest of them hear it? Are they okay? They aren't being drawn in by the song, are they? This would make a pretty shitty battle patrol if half of them are getting slaughtered by elves…

Against my better instinct, I turn and head back toward the ring.

For weirdless days and weary nights

Are his till his deein' day.

The twisted words sing through my ears, taunting me with their creeping melody. I can feel the tug of their song, but I resist. There they are! Only Sir Wynnd is still in the ring and Lady Fyrra is already dragging him out.

But he wha gaes by the fairy ring,
Nae dule nor pine shall see,

Rynnin has a strange, dreamy look on his face, but when Mauzian hauls him over the line of mushrooms, it turns into utter confusion. He looks back at the ring, his mouth moving along with the words in my head.

And he wha cleans the fairy ring—

The whole patrol bolts back to the group of Shodawes elders.

An easy death…

And we're out of range. Thank the Starlaxi.

"Next time we'll just linger by a soulpath," Sir Strommer says, looking more shaken than I think I've ever seen him. "I don't care how 'fearless' you all are, I like my freedom."

Yllowei gives a hoarse laugh, but she looks a little sobered as well. "Well, that king won't know what's coming anymore."

Sir Strommer doesn't reply, instead choosing to check on Rynnin Wynnd's state, who seems fine, if a little disoriented.

Dawhnnea steps forwards and Yllowei gives her a nod. "Time to go. Game faces on."

The Thundrian patrol huddles in the clearing as the four of them head down into the ditch where the Shodawes castle is located.

We are all still, silent, and waiting.

We wait, that is, until we hear the yells.

Well, looks like that plan went to shit.

Sir Strommer is the first to move and soon the Thundrian patrol is streaming down toward the castle, swords unsheathed.

"For Thundria!" Sir Strommer roars and someone from within the castle flings the doors open for us.

As we storm the castle, I realize very quickly that only about half of the people in the Shodawes castle are fighting. Plenty of shadowy figures cluster about the hallways and staircases, observing and nothing more. Aish, Dawhnnea, and Nait are in the centre, back to back to back, swiping at any knight that tries to make a move. They're more or less surrounded by what I'm assuming is King Braukkiniaum's inner guard.

Two staircases run up from the edges of the room and disappear into shadows far above. The room is poorly lit, with only a few sputtering torches to illuminate the court within. The banners of Shodawa are torn and ragged too, with one missing entirely.

I survey the room, taking in the sight of the elders in their tight group, fending off a crowd. A couple of knights have Yllowei cornered by the throne. I don't see the king. As Sir Strommer yells out orders I can't help but fixate on the words of the knights that have their swords pointed at a spitting-mad Yllowei.

"Her life-force could get you killed, be careful."

"She ain't allowed to hurt, she's a healer!"
"There's no telling what she's capable of after what happened to those poor kids."

The knights of Thundria charge the circle holding the Shodawes elders, but I'm scanning the area for the king. I need to get in a few strikes personally.

He's nowhere to be seen though, so I jump into the battle, finding the sting of the sand all over the floors of the castle. Looks like their slobbishness is about to have some painful payback. I summon it upwards and into fist-sized balls.

Aim for the eyes, Queen Bluelianna's voice suggests and as a stringy, vicious looking silver-haired woman charges me, I send one straight into her face.

She reels and flicks her sword upwards, too far to even touch me. Ha.

I'm eating my snort a moment later when the floor beneath me becomes so slippery that I can't keep my balance, even though I'm standing still. I stumble away from the smooth patch and drop one of my sand-balls in an effort to make it rough enough to not slide across and catch my footing once more.

I twist around, looking for someone in trouble, but Graie has gone to Yllowei's aid and the rest of the knights are managing themselves just fine. Dawhnnea and Aish seem to have teamed up and are taking turns slashing at a short, muscled man.

Then I see Fiyr facing off with what looks like a toddler.

"Fiyr! Back down!" I yell, charging towards him. His sword is out, but thankfully he isn't actually striking her."That's a fucking kid!"

"This isn't your battle!" he snaps at the little girl, who bares her teeth and tries to slash at him with her tiny sword. Fiyr blocks it with ease and flicks the sword away.

She stumbles backward and throws a puff of horrible smelling yellow powder in his face. "Leave her!" I snap, fighting the urge to shove him. "There's a real fight going on!"

"Watch out!" I hear Dawhnnea's yell a heartbeat before a dark laugh echoes behind me and I feel my hand suddenly pulse and then my sword is being pointed towards my stomach… by my own hand.

Oh fuck. I wrestle back control of my limb and twist the sword away from my own body and whip around to see the twisted grin of King Braukkiniaum Star.

Fiyr finally turns away from the tiny girl to face him as well. "You—You're a monster," he spits but the king doesn't lose his grin.

Way to state the obvious, buddy, I think grimly and before I can think better of it, I charge him.

I can feel my limbs starting to lock up as the king holds up his hand in the universal hand signal for stop. My legs rebel and trying to fight it is like trying to walk through waist-deep mud. I send one of his sand-balls into the back of his head anyways.

I don't need my legs to use my life-force, I think, gritting my teeth.

Sudden pain in my chest makes me gasp for air and the balls of sand plunk to the ground harmlessly. I grab my chest, light sparking behind my eyes as pain rolls over me. Blessed Starlaxi… my heart…

Whatever he's trying to do to me, his concentration is broken a moment later when Fiyr, undaunted, drives his sword into the king of Shodawa's stomach.

I grimace as the tension eases off my heart, trying not to double over, knowing Fiyr is going to need help in a moment. I glance up to see the king looking vaguely surprised by the sword that is now inside him. He can feel pain, right? Half of what I know about the demon before me is from rumours and gossip. Is he even human?

"So, Thundria puts swords in the hands of god-toys and sends them off to battle," the king growls, dark amusement in his cold eyes.

Then Fiyr and I watch in horror as he grabs the sword by the blade and slides it out of his body. Fiyr stumbles backward, his grip loosening on the now bloody weapon. I have a pretty strong stomach, but even that makes me a little queasy. A dark patch blooms on the leather and cloth the king is garbed in, soaking through the Shodawes emblem.

"You send children out to die!" I snap, pushing aside my revulsion and horror and slash out in an arc toward his side. His sword, flashing in the torchlight, deflects it effortlessly and the clang rings through the hall, mixing with the screams and metallic clashes of swords echoing around the rest of the room.

"Monster!" Fiyr has drawn fire out of a torch and sends it towards King Braukkiniaum, who darts to one side, surprisingly agile despite his large frame, and it explodes on the floor behind him.

The king's lips peel back in a grin again, revealing cracked teeth that jut up from him gums like broken tombstones. I fight a flinch.

Fiyr suddenly hisses in pain and I watch, eyes wide with fear and at first, incomprehension, as a gash on his shoulder suddenly starts bleeding more, soaking his shirt and dripping off him, then suddenly arcing through the air… into King Braukkiniaum's stomach wound.

He can do more than just control other people's limbs, it seems.

I swallow hard, bracing myself to try to strike him again while he concentrates, but Fiyr is paling and stumbling away. I have to do something about it first.

An idea hits me like a bolt of lightning.

"Trait!" I hiss. "It's your blood!"
He looks at me, confusion in his watering eyes, then understanding passes over his face. As the king takes a deep breath, pulling the stolen blood into his stomach, his face suddenly twists with surprise and a moment later, pain.

Hotter! I urge Fiyr silently as his face drains of colour. He squeezes his eyes shut and I see him trembling with the effort.

As King Braukkiniaum glances down in shock at the sizzling wound, now containing boiling blood, and stumbles backward, I leap forward and swing my blade into his side. Fiyr has distracted him enough that I get a good hit on his side, but most of the blow is taken by his armor.

Growling with frustration, I strike harder. Bolt finds flesh and the king swings his sword into mine and rips it free of his side. We face off, his sword pointing at my chest, mine trying not to tremble too much in my shaking hands, and Fiyr stumbles aside, clutching his shoulder.

I can't beat him, I realize just as a pale flash appears behind him at an incomprehensible speed. Sir Wynnd!

A heartbeat later, the king's sword slides out of his hand. He grabs for it as it falls to the ground, but his hand can't seem to close around the hilt.

I recoil as it drops to the floor, confused, when I see Lady Peilte with her sword Willowpelt outstretched behind him. The king turns just as Rynnin Wynnd's foot flashes out like striking lightning and slams into his chest.

The king staggers backward, but I have no time to the two of them take him on because Fiyr needs help—he's fallen to one knee, panting. That shoulder must be worse than it looks…

I help him away from the fray, him almost falling sideways, and his back falls against the wall. I was right; he looks pretty rough. His hand cups his shoulder, but I can already see it streaked with blood.

"Are you alright?" I demand and realize instantly that may have been the stupidest thing I've ever said. "I mean… here."

I flip open the cover on a pouch at my side and pull out bandages I've started keeping on my person at all times ever since my cycles started and secure them on his shoulder. "I'm no Spottalia, but you won't bleed out at least," I grunt.

He winces. "I'm sure it wasn't bad enough for me to bleed out."

Ignoring him, I turn back to the battle to see Dawhnnea facing Blayke in the middle of the room, her cheeks tear streaked and her eyes wide.

"They were weak," Sir Fouhte sneers and the woman staggers back, her sword not even drawn, trembling. He raises his sword.

He's going to kill her! I realize in a flash of horror. No!

"Weayte, Broewen," she mumbles. "Weayte, Broewen, you… you let them die… you sent them out… you did this…"

He flashes a harsh grin, pulling Blackfoot back further and preparing to slash it across her neck, then the grin fades as we all hear the rumbling.

I glance up, unnerved by the thrumming on the edge of my hearing. What is that?!

And then I hear the wind howling.

Not season or time or light life-force at all.

Weather control.

And the roof explodes.

"Weayte and Broewen! Did you hold vigil? Did you bury them?" she screams, unsheathing her sword and pointing it at him. "Did you even bother? Did they mean nothing to you? My sons!"

The rumbling and howling are louder, closer, and I can't help but watch dumbfounded as rain pours into the castle in heavy sheets, then as a gust of wind throws the doors of the castle open and rushes through the centre of the room, cutting down everyone in its path, and splitting when it reaches Dawhnnea to rush around her, leaving her unharmed.

It carries Blayke Fouhte off his feet and flings him back into the stone wall, where he collides with it with a sickening crack and slumps to the floor.

I can't find pity to feel.

"Come on," I snap to Fiyr, who's nursing his shoulder wound with a pout. "There's still so much to do."

I search the room for any member of Braukkiniaum's inner guard to attack when my eyes lock onto a particular knight.

Sir Fiace. If he even deserves the title of Sir.

"Fiyr," I breathe. "It was him."

He doesn't even need me to point. Regardless of his shoulder, he draws Rusty, fire beginning to simmer in his eyes. Dawhnnea's storm put out the torches, but I don't doubt that he can do damage without his life-force.

He and Sir Styrp circle each other, though neither is making a move. Clehw hasn't even summoned a stoat.

I turn to Fiyr, about to suggest that we flank him and then double-team him, but…

"You killed her, you monster!" he shrieks, charging.

Oh, great.

Sir Fiace turns, surprise evident on his face, in time to cross swords with Fiyr. Darriek darts away to find another knight to fight.

"I didn't kill her, she killed herself." He has a soft voice, but the sneer in it is evident.

"What are you talking about?!" Fiyr demands, slashing at him like a man possessed. "We found your life-force! You poisoned her!"

"With poppy seeds. You Thundrian idiots didn't even find the real cause of death?"

It comes to me with sickening clarity and a cry escapes me. Herb amplifying life-force. She could increase the potency of herbs. It's all too easy to imagine her putting a tiny shred of thyme in her tea or something and making its potency tenfold the normal to calm herself, not knowing about the sleeping draught in there. She'll sleep… forever.

He didn't kill her, she didn't even really kill herself… It was just a horrible accident. And I know instantly that if Fiyr knew that, it would destroy him. He needs vengeance, he needs someone to blame.

I open my mouth, but no sound comes out… He didn't mean to kill her at all. But I don't doubt that he doesn't regret it.

But Sir Fiace suddenly looks away from Fiyr, over his shoulder and towards… I follow his gaze and gasp. No!

The king has Yllowei Fennen cornered and has his sword drawn and ready.

I see Fiyr lower his sword, his mouth dropping open in horror as King Braukkiniaum advances on her.

She may have been from Shodawa, but she's one of us now! We can't let her—

The king plunges his sword through her chest.

I hear Fiyr scream.

I think I scream.

We need her! She can't die now!

"Hmph. You die even easier than Raggidier did," King Braukkiniaum rumbles, laughing at the stricken look on her face as she slides down the wall, gasping with a horrible wet, choking sound.

"It… You…? Why…"

"He was weak. He deserved to die," he hisses, leaning forwards and driving his sword further into her. "Just the same way you do."

"Did… Braighttia Fluwr's children… deserve to die…?" she chokes, the trembling effort behind each word showing how hard it is to force out the question.

"If it hadn't been me it would've been another knight," he says contemptuously. "Goodbye."

Yllowei's eyes flutter shut and she drops to the floor.

No…

I can hear my heart in my ears. "No!"

"Yllowei!" It's Sir Pault, his pained yell echoing through the throne room. I'm not in the Trace, but the life-force is so strong I can sense it without even… Alchemy. The feature of the world he has control over is… I thought there weren't any strong enough…

He's a time alchemist?

Then bitterness fills my mouth and then everything darkens.

…

Crack.

Blayke Fouhte hits the stone wall of the castle with a sickening sound and slumps to the floor.

"Come on," I snap to Fiyr, who's nursing his shoulder wound with a pout. "There's still so much to do."

I search the room for any member of Braukkiniaum's inner guard to attack when I spot Yllowei, slashing her sword at anyone who gets to close, and the king creeping up behind her.

"Yllowei is in danger!" I spit. "Flank him."

Fiyr nods shakily and unsheathes Rusty. We charge the king on either side and he doesn't get a chance to force Yllowei into a corner as we point our swords at him.

"Haven't you learned your lesson?!" he growls, spinning around to face us. "Your puny hearts will explode!"

And sure enough, a familiar pressure begins in my chest, but it suddenly subsides as his concentration is broken once more. Yllowei has retaliated.

The king spins to see the old woman thrust her sword toward the wound in his stomach from earlier. He leaps back and is tackled by Sir Pault. Yllowei flings herself at the pair of them, her sword still out and flashing.

But my attention is taken by the knight circling Sir Styrp, his true-steel sword drawn and his lips drawn back in a sneer.

"Fiyr!"

I don't need to tell him; his attention is already focused on Sir Fiace.

"You killed her!" Fiyr shouts, his voice raw. "You killed Spottalia!"

The small man turns with a sneering grin and opens his mouth to say something, but doesn't get a chance. Fiyr charges him and swings his sword with both hands, slashing for his head. He's going to kill him… I realize with a jolt. Knights don't kill… but then again, Clehw did. He killed Spottalia. And maybe she was annoying or had her priorities mixed up or whatever, but she didn't need to die.

Clehw knocks the blow aside and thrusts his sword forward. His eyes go beady black, glittering and his hair spreads down his back. His fingers flex into claws and knife-sharp fangs burst out of his mouth.

I run at his other side, trying to draw his attention away from Fiyr, who is panting and winding up for another swing at his head.

"Hey, piece of shit!" I scream in his face. "Over here!"

Sir Fiace whirls around, those tiny black eyes fixing themselves on me, and raises a clawed hand.
The next thing I feel is hot pain in my stomach. A cry tears free of my throat and I double over, clutching my belly. He tore straight through the thunder emblem. My hands come away bloody and there are spots dancing around the throne room. I wonder whose life-force that is…

I land on my back. Ow. Shit.

The world is spinning overhead. It's loud. How did I not hear how loud it was before?

I breathe out slowly, finding the Trace around me. I squint at the room, or what I can see of it. A hulking furry creature stands, his back to me, crouched and ready to pounce. My head is so light. I feel like I'm floating away.

Sir Nait Pault is crouching next to me, but he's different. I can't sense his life-force. It's… so faint… he was so powerful before, where did it go? Why is he spinning…?

I can taste iron and cinnamon.

Fiyr… don't…

But my voice is too quiet and my eyes are closed.

I can hear him screaming.

Then the world rocks with a blazing hot shockwave and I'm flung through the air.

I don't even feel myself hit the ground.

I don't feel anything at all.

Thanks for reading chapter 24! Please follow and favourite this story and leave me a review with what you think!

~Akila