Shackles of Betrayal

Nothing hurts more than betrayal, doesn't it? To understand that your vested confidence and trust in someone had been violently abused and trampled under their feet, that they had turned the tables against you using your own faith in them...it really does hurt.

She expected a sharp pain, or a least a sting like the feeling of a pin's prick. And she waited, faithfully, with her eyes closed, arms useless by her sides.

But all she received with a wet splatter across her face, causing her to open her eyes curiously.

The swordmaster was slumped against the wall, dead from a slash across his back. She was staring into the fuming face of Stefan.

"YOU!" He seethed. "After all that your friend did to keep you alive, you could have tried harder to save your own damned life instead of throwing yourself at the mercy of the first enemy that comes along!"

But…Saleh's dead…and I don't deserve to live…she mourned. Why do I live when my life was bought by Saleh's? Why did Saleh have to die protecting me? Why is he always the one sacrificing himself for me? What have I ever done for him besides make him worried, anxious and terrified? Why did it have to turn out this way?

Stefan cut down another pouncing Grado soldier. "Do you think your friend will be happy to know that you committed suicide after he sacrificed himself for you? Can you THINK, woman?" He stabbed another general in the throat just before the general drove his silver lance into Marisa. "He loves you; so he wants you to live on happily, can't you see the freaking logic? Can't you?"

Can I?

"Dude, even if you want to sit and mop, the battlefield is not a good place, if you just realized?" Stefan lectured, throwing his daggers into a nearby sniper. "Could you like give me some help here? It's not easy trying to cover your back, your dead friend's body and my own backside at the same time you know!" He drove his dagger indignantly into another Grado warrior.

Harsh as he is, he is right. She pondered. Saleh died for me. He wants me to make full use of my life and save Jehanna. That's why he sacrificed himself. He loves me. He wants me to live on happily and peacefully. He loves me enough to die for me. He loves me so much so that he is willing to give up himself for me.

"Damn!" Stefan cursed as he was surrounded.

A swarm of druids formed a circle around her, circling her and Saleh's body in a trap without any way of escape.

The circle of death…dark druid's circle…she muttered under the breath. Saleh had once told her about the potency of this magic circle. There was no escape for the victim, who would be surrounded by dark magic and drained of his soul by the sheer power of the black magic. In his words, it would 'flux the life out of the victim'.

The druids, all of them identical in black hoods, billowing black robes and pale nondescript faces, raised their hands in front of them, pointing towards her. Swaying on the spot, they began chanting words of ancient dark magic.

The carpet beneath her feet heated up as ancient runes glowed in a circular pattern.

"Damn! Marisa!" Stefan shouted furiously, trying frantically to break his circle of enemies. "I'm coming!"

No…there was no need to come…A vein throbbed in her temple.

The ground crackled with power as the runes glowed white hot and beads of sweat formed on the druids' forehead as they concentrated.

NOW!

Unsheathing her shamshir as she sprang forward, she slit the throat of the nearest druid before he could complete his incantation.

The druid dropped dead, but his companions ignored his death and closed up the circle, continuing the spell.

She needed to finish all of them before the spell could be completed. Sprinting, she pulled her shamshir to her side and slit the throats of the druids as she ran. Seven left…six left…

Their hands glowed white hot.

Five left…

The circle was aflame with black magic. A torrent of power rose from the ground, almost like a wave of solid black energy. The black energy formed a hideous beast, which leapt at her throat.

She dodged the beast easily and slashed at the beast's jaw. The black form disintegrated, but left an aftershock in her hand that felt both sore and painful. Holding her sword firmly, she shoved her blade down the throat of the leaping monster, resisting that painful prickling sensations coming from the pulses of dark magic. With a cry, she broke the circle of magic and took out the five remaining druids at lightning speed, jaw set with determination.

In the middle of the ring of corpses, she knelt beside Saleh's body, examining him anxiously. The dark magic had not destroyed his corpse. If anything, Saleh looked almost as though he was in a deep slumber, only without the rise and fall of his chest and the blood in his face.

There was a hand on her shoulder.

"Dark magic preserves their victims," Stefan said. "He'll never have to worry about looking bad in death for infinity."

"You turned traitor to Grado," she stated flatly.

"Put it this way, Princess," Stefan laughed, heading back to the fray. "Your kindness touched the depth of my heart and I defected to prevent myself from spending sleepless nights worrying about how to repay your gratitude."

A small smile escaped her lips. "Come on then, show me just how grateful you are."

He laughed as he chopped down two of his former countrymen with one graceful stroke. "Very grateful." He paused. "I'll watch your back? You watch mine?"

She nodded.

I will be back for you, Saleh. I'll make sure I'll take care of you.

"Stop!" There was a shrill series of commands through the air. "The High Commander tells you to stop!"

Instantly, as though having an imperial decree, the Grado soldiers lay down their arms and retreated into a line, protected by their shields, leaving the Jehannan soldiers staring in bewilderment at their opponents, whom they had been engaging in fierce combat with barely a second ago.

She sliced the last swordmaster before her. High commander? Who is that?

"That's the commander of the Jehannan invasion," Stefan hissed. "It's-"

"Greetings your highnesses, fellow countrymen and fellow enemies!" It was that odious voice that made her skin crawl with its greasiness and the sheer amount of insincerity that oozed out of every word. "The High Commander pays his respects to all of you for having heroically lived till now!"

She stared at horror as Prime Minister Alexander strode to the front of the Grado army and addressed the soldiers. She turned back to Stefan, hoping that he would tell her this was a joke, but Stefan's face was set in utmost seriousness, and his jaw was clenched.

"Sir Alexander!" Queen Ismaire gasped. "What are you-What did you-Why-"

"Your highness!" Sir Alexander swept her a short bow. "It is a pity that we have to meet in such circumstances. It distresses me to see your complexion marred by the presence of blood spilled from unknown sources. Is it tiring being a soldier? Yes? Dear me. Well, I address you today as the High Commander of the Grado Army, Operation Leader of Operation Lightning, the operation to conquer and force Jehanna into submission for the Grado Empire."

"You-" Queen Ismaire pointed an accusatory finger at him. "You betrayed Jehanna! You betrayed your motherland! You betrayed us, the royal family! And you dare crawl back here and show your vile face in this hall? You disgust me."

Sir Alexander shrugged, adjusting the black cape on his shoulders. "Royal family? Pah! Remember, your highness, Jehanna's royal family is no longer royal anymore. The royal blood is so diluted that it is tainted by more common blood than noble."

"It matters not! My husband was of noble birth. My son is of noble birth. The throne is rightfully theirs," Queen Isamire replied.

"In your dreams it is," Sir Alexander sneered. "Like father; like son, so they say. Your husband was a wise king, but his only folly was to marry you, a lowly commoner of mercenary birth. YOU tainted the royal Jehannan bloodlines with your lowly blood. Then your son, a mongrel himself, went and married THIS!" He pointed a finger at Marisa. "You? Royal family? You are nothing more than a palace full of mongrels. I, on the other hand, was descended from the same grandfather as your husband, but in my veins flows only the blood of the noblest houses of the six nations. I deserve that throne more than you do!"

"You are crazed, Sir Alexander," Queen Ismaire retorted harshly. "In your quest for power you forgot the kindness my husband showed you that year when he made you Prime Minister on his deathbed, reminiscing your ties with him as distant kin."

"Pah!" Sir Alexander brushed the argument aside. "He was delirious. Anyone could have pretended to be his mother and he would scarcely notice the discrepancy. And that was not kindness; it was the debt he owed me for ignoring my welfare for so many years. I was a kin of the royal family, so why was it that my family was riddled with debt when I was young? My father gambled his fortunes, and he asked your husband and his family to assist him in repaying his debts, but you cold-heartedly turned him down in his face! You left him in the lurch and left him to die at the hands of his creditors, even though you were relatives. I was penniless when I was young, literally had not a coin in my pocket. I scrapped a living in the most demeaning manner, and I demand compensation today for the shame I suffered forty years ago!"

"And so you want Jehanna to be given to you as compensation?" Queen Ismaire asked coldly. "You are a madman, Sir Alexander, crazed with your ideas of vengeance and discrimination. Marisa's father was an unrepentant gambler, and she worked hard as well to repay his debts from young, before she met my son. Do you see her demanding compensation for her suffering? Do you see her marching into this hall with a foreign army? Do you see her betraying her country, her countrymen, her soul for power? You are mad, Sir Alexander. I will never allow you to succeed. The Jehannan army will stand till the last man falls."

At her last sentence, Sir Alexander threw his head back and roared with laughter. He laughed and laughed till the tears of mirth came into his beady eyes, filled with a malicious humour.

"What's the joke?" Gerik spat.

Sir Alexander dried his eyes. "In that case, your highness, I believe that it would be wise for you to give up this very instant. For besides that loyal troop of hard-core Jehannan soldiers still holding on to that piece of rock with Prince Joshua, you don't have an army."

"What do you mean I don't have an army?" Queen Ismaire asked tensely. "My army is right here, in flesh and blood, resisting your enemy forces."

"I assume you placed Carlyle, your war minister, as your chief commander, which means that your army listens to him right?" Sir Alexander smiled nastily. "Well it just so happens that Carlyle is now…let's just say under Grado."

Queen Ismaire paled. "Carlyle…that's impossible! He was my most trusted minister! He saved my life once from an assassin! How could he…"

Sir Alexander rolled his eyes. "Carlyle, my dear defected comrade, could you please come and show yourself so that her highness can stop steadfastly believing in your non-existent loyalty?"

A man with light sandy hair and deep-set eyes slowly made his way from amidst the legions of Grado soldiers and stood beside Prime Minister Alexander.

"Carlyle!" Queen Ismaire cried in shock. "You-you really turned your back on Jehannan? After all that you have done for your country…why you were the one who taught me to wield a sword! You would…really betray us?"

Carlyle was silent, and he hung his head.

"Now Carlyle, do what you promised me," Sir Alexander coaxed.

Without looking at Queen Ismaire, Carlyle raised his head and sighed. "Fellow soldiers of Jehanna, lay down your arms! As your supreme commander, I order you to disarm."

All the Jehannan soldiers stared at him as though he had gone mad. When he swept his glance over them firmly, they finally understood that he was serious. Looking hesitantly at the queen, they disarmed one by one, their weapons dropped onto the ground.

Defying the supreme commander meant instant death by army rules.

"Excellent! Excellent!" Sir Alexander clapped. "My fellow Jehannans, Prince Lyon has sent word that he pardons your former belligerence and antagonism towards Grado. If you are willing to lay down your arms and make peace by surrendering unconditionally, his highness is willing to spare your life and even perhaps, reward you for making the right decision. Instead of fighting for a useless cause, is it not wiser to ensure your own survival, Jehannans?"

Don't surrender, you fools! She wanted desperately to cry out, but even she herself knew that it would be futile. They were heavily outnumbered; if the fighting continued it would most likely generate enormous numbers of casualties, numbers too horrifying to even think about. Some of them had dependencies, families, friends, loved ones…they could not just abandon everything just to offer their lives for their country.

"Cowards," she heard Stefan mutter.

Indeed, cowards.

One by one, the soldiers disarmed and knelt on their knees, pledging their allegiance to Grado and their new leader, who smiled evilly at the sight.

Only a scattered handful of soldiers, perhaps only about 30 men, retained their positions and clutched their weapons, gathering around Queen Ismaire. She recognized one of the men as the guard of the dungeon who had once pledged himself firmly to Sir Alexander, the man who had defied her orders and risked death to demonstrate his loyalty and was subsequently made captain.

We need more men like him, she though in approval.

Sir Alexander scanned the crowd of defiant soldiers who were standing together around the queen, the Jehannan crest reflecting proudly on their armour. "You!" He shouted, pointing at the guard-made-captain. "Did you not once swear that you would be loyal to me even till your death? Why did you switch your allegiance at this juncture?"

The captain swallowed. He was afraid, but he did not let his fear change his allegiance. "I am a true-blue soldier of Jehanna, and my utmost priority is to my country. I will not follow you in making the same mistake of succumbing to temptation and fear."

"So you would protect Jehanna with your life? Even if you know you will die will doing so?" Sir Alexander laughed.

The captain shuddered. "Yes."

Sir Alexander raised his hand. "Very well then, I'll let you be the first to taste the power of Fenrir, my brave captain."

"No!" Queen Ismaire pushed the captain out of the way and pointed her sword at Sir Alexander. "You. You will fight me and me only. Do not involve the soldiers if you have a personal grudge against me and want to eliminate me."

Sir Alexander laughed again. "My pleasure, my queen, I can hardly wait to see your nicely toasted corpse." He moved forward, before being grasped firmly by Carlyle. "What?" he snapped testily. "Get your filthy hands off my robes!"

"You!" Carlyle said. "You promised to give her to me if I surrendered the Jehannan army! You promised to let her live. How can you-Urgh!" He was flung backwards roughly as Sir Alexander kicked him.

"Stand back, you filthy cur," Sir Alexander snarled. Looking intently at Queen Ismaire, he struck out his hand. The magic cruised through the air, creating sparks of black. Queen Ismaire attempted to dodge, but was slowed down by the wounds she had received when she was battling alongside the soldiers. The magic caught her by the ankle, and she cried out. But she was unable to do anything, paralysed by the magical current.

"And now, I get rid of this eyesore," Sir Alexander smiled. Flipping open his tome, he waved his hand, muttering an incantation directed at his paralysed victim. A large purple symbol formed above Queen Ismaire's head, crackling.

"Farewell!" Sir Alexander cried, thrusting his hand out. Black lightning rained from his palm, shooting towards the target.

"No!"

There was an explosion, followed by billowing purple fumes. Everyone covered their faces with their sleeves and robes, choking from the toxic smell of the fumes.

"Carlyle?" Queen Ismaire cried incredulously as she pushed the body off her. "Carlyle! Carlyle!"

"The fool's dead." Sir Alexander snarled angrily. "It was such a good spell, and he wasted it. Why won't you die, woman? I try and kill all of you again and again and none of you seem to ever die from it. It's either that someone saves you, or that you are immune. Why won't all of you just die already?" He roared, the black lightning still swarming over his hands. He directed his palm at one of the statues along the wall, and it instantly smashed into nothing more than marble chips. "That fool just had to ruin everything because of his great love!"

"Love?" Queen Ismaire asked weakly.

Sir Alexander glared at her in hatred. "That fool worshipped you as though you were the light of his life! Obviously you weren't worth it, but that fool was so blinded by your deceiving outer appearance that he ruined by entire grand scheme by saving you last minute and killing himself! What's with people nowadays? Sacrificing themselves for love? Pah! That's for idiots!"

How dare he say Saleh is an idiot? She clenched he fists tightly as she watched him raise his hand at Queen Ismaire, who was still grieving. That bastard…that cur…I'll never forgive him. He ruined everything that I had and there is no way I am going to let him walk away without paying for his crimes.

"I shall waste no more of my sacred energy trying to kill you miserable fools," Sir Alexander snarled. "Give me the Sacred Stone, the Sacred Twins and surrender unconditionally the country to me before I take them by force and send all your souls to the devil." He pointed at Ewan. "You! You look like a god boy. Come here and Uncle Alex will reveal to you all the secrets of dark magic."

Ewan shook his head defiantly, the corners of his mouth drooping into a sulk. "I hate you! You killed Master Saleh! I'll go to you when hell freezes over!"

Sir Alexander looked shocked and bemused at the crude language spilling out of Ewan's mouth and he laughed. "Well then, your highness, you have one staunch adherent, in the form of a young boy no taller than my waist. Impressive. Will any of you like to come over to my side, or will you all join me when hell freezes over, as this boy so aptly puts it?"

"To hell with you!" Gerik roared, shifting the sword on his shoulder. He glared murderously at Sir Alexander, as though longing to cut him down on the spot. "We'll join you when hell freezes over!"

"Yeah!" Ewan shouted, while Tethys had a look of grim determination.

The rest of the soldiers agreed unanimously.

"You are fools," Sir Alexander hissed. "All of you."

"We are not fools, Sir Alexander," Queen Ismaire replied coolly. "We are true blue Jehannans, and we die for our cause and what we believe in. Carlyle too, was a real Jehannan, dying for his beliefs and his love, only that he was misguided by someone, I suspect, and thus suffered his death in your hands today."

"Pah!" Sir Alexander frowned. "That man was nothing more than a blundering fool. Hey you!" He pointed at Stefan. "Aren't you that stupid Carcino fellow from the dungeon? Did your darling lover Princess rescue you? Seems like I was always right about you two. You defected to Jehanna? What a fool you are! Come here to the side of the victorious and we'll show them the might of Grado's crushing army!"

Stefan narrowed his eyes and clutched his daggers tight. "I would have you know that you are speaking to the Vice-Commander of Grado Espionage 1st Company, not some Carcino fellow you so mistakenly believed. I defected because the Princess has shown me extraordinary kindness and mercy and I am touched by her noble gestures. It surprises me how little about your own people, Sir Alexander." He rolled his sleeve to show him a white scar made by the leather whip. "See this? Remember how you whipped me so kindly?"

Sir Alexander frowned. "You are a fool. Instead of staying with the winners you help the losers. It's not too late to change again. Make the right choice, my former comrade."

"Over my dead body," Stefan spat.

Very well then, over your dead body it shall be," Sir Alexander said, his face darkening as he conjured a ball of black magic in his hand.

"Stop."

Marisa stepped forward, hand holding her shamshir tightly. "If it is the Sacred Stone and Sacred Twins you want, you have to defeat me first. They are on me. If you want them, duel and kill me first."

"Marisa! Don't!" Gerik cried, reaching forward to stop her.

She ignored him and walked forward, stopping ten feet away from Sir Alexander, who wore a twisted smile.

"You know you don't stand a chance, do you?" Sir Alexander said softly, evidently delighted.

She shrugged. "You never know until you try."

"You are a fool," he reiterated.

She rolled her eyes. "Is that your only refrain?"

"Nope," he said easily. "My other line is 'time to die'."

"Well then," she replied. "Maybe I'll just borrow this line from you for once."

A transparent wall of air, impenetrable and impervious, rose around the two of them. "Just to make it a fair duel," Sir Alexander explained carelessly.

With this limited space, it restricts my ability to maneuver and my dodging spaces. It is to his favour. She frowned. "Make the arena larger."

She barely leapt out of the way as the ground beneath her feet crackled and a blast of dark magic hit where she had been standing a second ago.

"I create the wall. I decide what size it is," Sir Alexander smiled evilly, revealing his sharp canines.

Damn. She dodged another bolt of lightning. She was trapped, between the wall and Sir Alexander's grinning face, beneath his protective defenses of black lightning.

With a cry of fury, she spun her shamshir in her hand and sprang towards him, swinging her shamshir high over her head. She aimed straight for his neck, towards his jugular vein. If she used all the strength she had left in her body, maybe she could just win…

He flung his arm and caught her in an arm-twist. Snarling, he twisted her wrist till she dropped her shamshir and threw her like a rag-doll across the floor into the glass wall behind.

She felt herself flying, before her back smashed painfully against the glass wall. Vaguely, she could hear pounding on the glass wall, and the sounds of shouting from her friends, as well as the sounds of cheering from the Grado soldiers. Her head throbbed painfully from the impact of hitting against the wall. From the corner of her eye, she could see her shamshir lying merely two arm lengths away from her. Gritting her teeth in pain, she pulled herself towards her shamshir, fingers clawing towards the hilt as she sprawled out against the ground in pain.

Just a little more…Marisa…you can do that…

An intense shot of pain shot through her fingers, making her nearly cry out aloud in pain. She looked up difficultly at Sir Alexander, who smiled smugly over her, his boots trampling over her fingers.

She could hear the crunch as he ground his heels hard against her fingers, biting down fiercely on her own lips to prevent her from wincing from the pain. He stood over her, eyes glinting in malice, his smug expression daring her to let a single whimper escape her lips.

No…She shut her eyes tightly as she tasted the blood she had drawn from her lip. Her bones broke one by one under his heavy weight, her right hand broken and useless. Her fingers fell limply against the silver hilt of her shamshir. She couldn't even close her fingers around the hilt.

I can't just give up like this. Not after Saleh had died for me.

She could smell the stench of Sir Alexander's foul breath. She recoiled in disgust.

"My turn," he whispered softly in her ear.

I can't give up. For Saleh, I need to strive on.

"Time to die," Sir Alexander said mockingly. "You are a fool."

The riddle…I can't give up…

What did the riddle say…?

"Bye, your highness."

Author's Note:

Guess what was the hurry behind this chapter?

Darkblaziken.

Yup. *glare*

I forgive everyone and anyone who has been secretly making voodoo dolls of me for killing Saleh.

Love ~ snowylavendermist