Was this how it was going to end?
Ayax blocked, rolled, tried to get up. Numbing fingers hung onto her staff for dear life as Darius slammed his sword down on her. Inches closer and he might cut off a finger, or hammer the blade into her face.
The blood-slicked floor aided her scramble, but it provided no purchase for her to lever herself up. She was screaming something, trying to cast a spell, or maybe just out of sheer panic. All anger had vanished, and now she was just trying to stay alive.
Too late did Ayax realize Darius’s last strike had been a feint. He plunged his sword into her leg. A cry ripped from her throat, Ayax tried to hit him, but the armored earl slammed his arm into her chest and drew his dagger.
Elizabeth, I’m sorry.
“Ayax!”
The head of a familiar warhammer crushed gauntlet, smashing the dagger out his hand. The earl’s howls were cut short as the spiked side of a warhammer buried itself into his neck, crushing his gorget. As Darius gurgled, Elizabeth threw him off of her girlfriend, raised her warhammer, and killed him with one last strike.
The head of the Traditionalist faction lay on the carpet of the throne room, unmistakable and gruesomely dead. The fighting just stopped and silence reigned across the room.
Elizabeth let out a deep sigh. “It is done.”
“Holy shit,” whispered Ayax. With shaking hands, she grabbed onto Elizabeth’s outstretched gauntlet and pulled herself up. “We…we did it.”
“Down! All Traditionalists drop your weapons!” bellowed Martin. He marched into the throne room, Lightning Battalion, Erlenbergian and Erisdalian banners held aloft by the soldiers behind him. Ginger was right by his side, looking very dirty, fierce eyes glaring at the remaining knights who were laying down their arms.
Ginger, finding Elizabeth and Ayax, ran to them and threw her arms around them. The pair were instantly hit by the ordor that was hanging around their friend. “I hate you both.”
“Love you too, Ginger,” said Elizabeth, beaming and also trying not to make a face.
“Well, thank you for saving us in the nick of time.” All turned to Janize who was now sitting on her throne. A tender looking Leila and exhausted George flanked her, though it was not clear if they were holding onto the throne for intimidation or for support. “Let’s get to business.”
Taking a deep breath, Martin nodded. “Let’s. Ginger?”
“Of course.” She placed her hand in the knight’s, the pair strode up to the throne. They stopped at the dais, but didn’t bow.
“Queen Janize, on behalf of His Majesty King Jerome and Queen Forowena, I, Sir Martin from Conthwaite, heir to the Kingdom of Erisdale, and my fiance, Lady Ginger, are charged to formally accept your surrender.”
Janize rose to her feet. Slowly, not even wavering for a moment, she took off her crown and walked down the dais.
“As agreed, Sir Martin, you have my surrender, in return for our agreed upon conditions.” Janize let out a deep sigh and placed the crown in Martin’s hand.. “The civil war is over.”
Ginger nodded, and grabbed Janize’s hand. The queen blinked as her hand was shook quite hard. “Excellent, now clean up and get down to business. We need to get to Athelda-Aoun pronto. New orders came in this morning.”
“What new orders?” Elizabeth asked.
Martin managed to tear his gaze away from the crown he held. “It looks like our sovereign has been planning something quite tricky since we heard about the dragons.”
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The Great Goblin Palace of Kairon Aoun was a maze of broken stone walls, caved in ceilings and crumbling mortar. Once Frances and Timur had made sure Morgan and Hattie were resting, they followed Aloudin through the ruin, passing bustling servants and soldiers running to and fro.
The ruin wasn’t really a ruin anymore, but like the rest of Kairon Aoun, being repurposed. Some of the old walls had been knocked down, but others had been reinforced and built into bunkers. Once a sprawling mini-city that sat at the very top of Kairon Aoun, the palace been filled with squat two-story buildings, and so it was actually quite easy to repurpose these ruins into defensive structures.
Timur pointed head to a wall about the height of three humans. “That was the main residence of the Goblin Emperor and Empress. Makes sense why they would set up the headquarters there. I wonder who, though.”
Frances took Timur’s hand and squeezed his long fingers lightly. “I’m going to guess it’s Queen Forowena.”
The prince nodded slowly. “I think you’re right. It would explain all the Erisdalian troops here and the sheer number of cannon.”
“The question is why,” said Frances as the guards opened the doors. They followed the soldiers through a short tunnel which opened to a courtyard.
Under a covered gallery section across the field, Queen Forowena and King Jerome were standing by a table filled with neatly sorted papers and reports. The queen had been restingher head against Jerome’s shoulder, but as her keen eyes noticed Frances’s approach, she braced herself against the table and pushed herself to standing.
Frances swallowed and curtsied, bowing her head low. “Your Majesty, I must beg your forgiveness for deserting my post.”
King Jerome waved a hand. “Your apology is accepted, Frances Stormcaller. And it is good to see you are safe, Prince Timur.”
Forowena allowed a smirk to leak through her stern countenance. “But don’t do that again, Frances. And what have I said about calling me Forowena?”
Letting out a small sigh of relief, Frances managed a smile. “I will endeavour not to do so, Forowena. I…presume you have new orders?”
“Indeed.” Forowena’s eyes turned to Timur. “When news of the dragons in Thorgoth’s employ arrived, Queen Titania took a number of precautions to ensure her forces were safe. She evacuated the Academy and also dispersed a number of her garrisons. We can be glad she did because Thorgoth started using his dragons to hunt down her army.”
The prince growned. “Oh no.”
“Why weren’t we—right, we were in Minairen,” said Frances, wincing.
Timur nodded. “It also explains why my father wasn’t at the capitol. Did his army go with him?”
“Yes, but he’s not had the best luck catching Titania’s forces. General Antigones knows his stuff. Of course, she can’t engage him either and over time, your sister’s forces are going to be whittled down by the dragons. In concert, he could reverse everything we gained, not to mention just burn our capitals down. The only reason he hasn’t is because there are risks and that wouldn’t necessarily stop us from fighting.”
“Then why gather our forces here? If we gather here, then Erisdale’s forces will surely be targeted by the dragons,” said Frances.
“Not to mention, Minairen’s only two weeks march away. My father won’t ignore that. He’ll race back here with everything he has to destroy this army,” added Timur.
Frances was studying Forowena and Jerome’s expressions as they were talking, as she and Timur had raised their points. There was a tension in their shoulders, and a tightness to the mirrored smiles they wore.
But most of all, Frances couldn’t help but notice how the pair had all this time been holding each other’s hands, as if not able to let go of one another.
“Forowena, Your—”
“Jerome, Frances,” said the king in a quiet voice. His smile softened as Frances’s eyes widened. Suddenly, she knew. Unable to completely believe, Frances stepped back and looked up staring high at the dark ceiling above. All she could see was the pitch black of a closed off cavern, with the only light provided by pinpricks of ancient ventilation shafts that glittered like stars in a night sky.
“You’re planning to lure Thorgoth here with you and the Erisdalian army’s presence and take him and his dragons on. With the sky closed off, the dragons mobility will be limited and with Kairon Aoun being a fortress, his army would take horrendous losses, no matter how many soldiers he brings.” Frances returned to stare at her former tactics teacher and her husband. “But…the risks. You could both be killed and the army destroyed.”
Jerome nodded. “That is true, Frances, but Martin and Ginger have been formally appointed as my heirs. We’ve also managed to reach an agreement with Janize and she will recognize them and surrender. Should the final assault on Erisdale prove a success, the line of succession will be secure.”
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“Even if that’s true, and say we defeat Thorgoth. Erisdale will be weakened. Lapanteria could swoop right in and—”
Forowena cut Frances off with a gentle wave. “First off, King Stephan’s publicly pledged to ride the Lapanterian Legion here as soon as he can to reinforce us. His forces are going to be very much involved in this battle. Second, Stephan has his own concerns in Lapanteria. He’s recently succeeded his late mother and he won’t be able to take offensive action. Besides, Stephan is a bit of a jerk, but his army will be equally as weakened by the war and only recently has managed to recover thanks to Queen Titania’s rebellion. Finally, with the relationship you’ve cultivated with Prince Timur and Alavaria, I doubt Erisdale needs to fear Lapanteria in the future.”
Arms crossed, Frances pressed her lips together, trying to think of something to say. She had a horrible, dreadfully cold feeling that was twisting into her stomach.
Forowena, finally letting go of Jerome’s hand, strutted around the table. Her hand clamped down onto Frances’s shoulder. “Walk with me, Frances. Timur, you stay here with Jerome.”
“Your—Sorry. Okay,” Frances stammered, as the queen guided her down the covered gallery.
Timur watched as Frances went with the queen, before turning back to Jerome.
“No objections, Your Highness?” Jerome asked, stroking his beard.
The prince closed his eyes and he slowly shook his head. “No. I want to, but I believe you have made your mind up and there’s nothing I can do to convince you.” He met Jerome’s grey eyes and smiled without mirth. “So this is the defiance that humans are capable of. My father is truly a fool to consider humans so beneath him that they can be subjugated.”
“We are all fools, Timur, just players on an impossibly big stage. We keep bumbling into people and things like idiots.” Jerome scratched the back of his head and chuckled. “I didn’t expect to be king. Everybody told me I was too much of an idiot, too honourable, too soft and not practical enough. Then I bumped into my wife, thanks to Frances and her friends and now here I stand.”
Timur nodded, managing a smile. “Very poetic, Your—Jerome.”
The king chuckled. “I believe my wife is rubbing off on me. I wish we really met each other earlier. I would have wanted to get to know her during peacetime.”
Timur pursed his lips. “It doesn’t have to be your last stand, sir. You could let us take charge. Summon the Firehand, stay in a safer place.”
The king shook his head. “I’ve been doing that, Prince Timur, whilst you, your lover and everybody else fights for me. Every day it irked me, knowing good people and Alavari are dying to keep me safe.”
“You needed to stay alive, sir. They also knew you’d do the same if they were king, Your Majesty,” said Timur quietly.
“True, but staying alive then had a role and a purpose. Now, the situation demands that I put my life on the line for those same people. My honour as a king and man demands it.” Jerome was somehow smiling even wider now, a determined grin lightening his features. “If you can tell me another way to bring Thorgoth down with the the least amount of casualties, Your Highness, then please let me know. But there’s no better place to fight than here, and no way to lure the enemy to where we want to fight them.”
“I understand, Jerome.” Timur put his hand on his chest and bowed low. “I will nevertheless do my best on behalf of Alavaria, to try to assist you in any way I can.”
Jerome patted Timur’s shoulder. “That’s all I ask, prince.”
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Forowena hadn’t said anything as she guided Frances through the ruins. She didn’t say anything, only wincing as they went up a flight of stairs to one of the squat square towers that sat on the corners of the palace courtyard.
It was only when the pair were by the battlements, and the queen had dismissed the sentry, that Forowena finally sighed.
“Oh Frances, you’re still so adorable when you are upset.”
Frances forced herself to unclench her hands. “This isn’t funny, Forowena.”
“No, it is no laughing matter.” The queen let go of Frances, leaning against one of the merlons on the battlements. “What is troubling you?”
Tears threatened to blind Frances, but she had no idea why she was starting to cry. “How long have you been planning this? Since the dragons were announced? Since Janize’s agreement to surrender? Or was it when you were asking if Martin and Ginger should be your heirs? You shouldn’t be planning your death! How do you know you might die? None of us know that. You might live through this battle!”
Forowena nodded. “That is true, but I find that given the risks and threat even Thorgoth alone poses, it does well to prepare for the worst eventuality.” The queen pursed her lips. “You haven’t answered my question, Frances.”
Frances grimaced and averted her gaze. “You showed me how important it was not to give up and to keep trying. So…why does it sound like you are giving up? I don’t get it. I can’t believe it. You kept our armies supplied in the war, made sure that if the Lightning Battalion went out to battle, we would never be outflanked. And I found out that even before you became queen, you helped get Martin’s mothers the forces necessary to reinforce Erlenberg during the siege. You’re supposed to whip out some strategy to solve things. That’s what you do.”
Forowena sighed. “I’m flattered, Frances, but I’m not infallible. I am human. Westfall Pass was a hard fought battle that was more about brute force than detailed tactics. And despite all I did ensuring our armies were supplied, that our logistics were sound and that we always had a reserve ready to respond, the Erisdalian Civil war has dragged on. This is the best I can come up with given the circumstances and…and I think you know that. That’s part of why this bothers you, though, I’m not sure why you feel so worried for me.”
Frances’s heart begged to speak and unable to bind up the anxiety she felt, Frances let its voice ring.
“You were one of my first teachers, of course I’m worried for you!”
Forowena blinked. “I…I taught you for some time, and I commanded you in Westefall, but—”
The memories of those first lessons so long ago, of pouring over papers and maps and strategems came flooding back to Frances’s mind. All the while, she could hear her former teacher’s cheerful voice chattering away.
“You taught me tactics. You trained me and you helped me to believe in myself. If you weren’t there, along with Edana, Spinerella, Ulric, Kellyanne and the rest of those at Salpheron, I wouldn’t be where I am today. You…you may have been a small part, but if it weren’t for you I’d still be that girl. I’ve never forgotten that.”
The queen stared and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “Thank you, it means a lot more to me than you realise.”
“So why don’t you stay back and stay safe? You have your entire life ahead of you!” Frances demanded.
The queen’s reply was soft and yet every word fell with a thud. “And you don’t, Frances?”
Frances couldn’t answer that. She stood, mouth agape, trying to come up with an answer, only for Forowena to sigh.
“Frances, my former student, let this be our final lesson. There is a time for everybody to die and so we need not fear death. Rather, we ought to live life to the fullest and when death stares at us in the face, we ought to meet it.” Forowena sniffled and drawing a handkerchief, she pressed it to her nose. “Do you know you taught me that?”
Frances shook her head. “What?”
Forowena patted her shorter leg meaningfully. “There were parts of myself that I didn’t like either. I just hid them under the armour that was my demeanor, and my don’t give a damn atitude was my shield. Your blossoming under Edana’s care, under the tutelage of your teachers showed me that people can change, and can learn. You then introduced me to Jerome, you remember that right?”
Frances nodded. “The battalion and I were escorting him and I just thought you would get along. He just seemed like a nice guy. I didn’t know you would well, fall in love.”
Forowena chuckled. “That’s the point, Frances. To you, it was such a minor thing and you just being nice. For me, it was one of the best things to happen in my life. The thing was, I knew of the prince. I was a noble, one of the two earls of Erisdale! I just never considered anybody could love me the way he does and if not for you, I would never have learned.” The queen stepped forward to gently place a hand on Frances’s shoulder. “Just as I helped you, you also helped me, Frances. So please, don’t worry about me. I want to live, but I will do so meaningfully, leading my country and protecting its future.”
Forowena touched Frances’s cheek as resignation bowed her head.
“I understand, Forowena. I will also do my best for Erisdale.”
At that, the queen sighed, while her smile momentarily widened with mirth. “Oh dear, Frances, you really don’t quite understand what I meant there. No matter, let’s get back to my husband and your love. No doubt you have some important information to share with us.”
Frances blinked, puzzled at the queen’s meaning, but she did have something important to tell Forowena and Jerome, particularly about the source of Thorgoth’s power. So she put that nagging thought to the back of her mind as she helped the queen down the stairs again.
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Flopping down beside Timur on their shared bed in the room they’d been quartered in, Frances rested her head on his lap. “So it looks like we’re not heading back to Athelda-Aoun just yet.”
Timur had been reading, but he put his book down to to gently stroked Frances’s hair, lulling her to close her eyes. “I miss home.”
Frances smiled. “Me too. I…I wanted to see it before the battle, but it would be rather impractical.”
“Where are Morgan and Hattie by the way?” Timur asked.
“I was reminding Morgan about Renia’s offer and she said she needed time to think. So she’s talking it over with Hattie.” Frances opened her eyes and rolled over so her arms were resting on Timur’s lap. “I want to send them home, but I don’t think they’ll listen.”
Her prince chuckled wryly. “Well, we have to try. We’re…we’re basically their parents.”
“We’re definitely Morgan’s mom and dad,” said Frances with a nod.
“Uncle—”
“In name only. You’re essentially her father, love.”
Timur pursed his lips before nodding slowly. “You’re probably right, though I’m not going to make Morgan call me dad.” Still tracing his hand through Frances’s hair, the trogre asked, “How did your talk with Queen Forowena go?”
Frances’s heart skipped a beat. The debate that had been raging in her mind since her talk with Forowena and the bubbling warming feeling in her chest surfaced once more.
“I couldn’t convince her, if you couldn’t tell. She…she also told me something important. She told me I need to focus on living my life to the fullest,” she whispered, her every word measured. She couldn’t help herself. She was so nervous that she felt tense and stiff even as she levered herself off Timur’s lap and slid off the bed. “Wait here, please.”
Slowly, she walked to her backpack. With numb, almost clumsy fingers, she rummaged through it until she found what she was looking for.
She wished she had a better garment, but the off-white travelling cloak with gold trim that she wore as part of her White Order uniform would have to do. She knew she didn’t have the right ring either, but sitting on the table with Ivy’s Sting, was her diamond spell ring. The steel-forged ring gripped its singular bright diamond with worn and scratched claws.
“Timur,” Frances stammered, turning to her love. He’d shifted to the side of their bed. One eyebrow was arched but as he stared at her, his jaw fell open.
Then she went to one knee, cloak draped across her arms, offering the ring in her hands. Timur’s hands clamped over his mouth and he began to tear up.
“Timur Greyhammer, I know I’m not perfect. I know you think you aren’t either. And I know that I am always going to feel like I’m never good enough. However, I’ve decided I won’t let that hold us back anymore. I love you. I’ve loved you for years and I’ve loved living with you in our home and with the children who we’re raising. I’m sorry I haven’t prepared this better. We can do this again with our friends and family and I’ll make you a better cloak and we’ll get a better ring but—” Frances hiccuped, almost unable to stammer the words through her sniffles. She had been blinded by her own tears midway through her proposal. She forced herself to breathe and stammered, “Timur, my Mataia, the one who holds my heart, will you marry me?”
“Yes.” Timur fell off the bed and onto his knees. He threw his arms around Frances and their lips met in a kiss. “Yes,” he gasped once his lips parted. “Yes, a thousand times over. Yes!”
Frances pressed her lips to his again, squeezing herself as closely as she could to her love. Her prince. Her fiance. “Thank you, Timur.”
“Thank you, my love,” Timur croaked. They kissed again, and it would be a long time before they would finally let go of one another.