Frances and Edana exchanged glances before meeting Timur and King Jerome’s gaze.
“Hold on, just to be clear here, you are asking that Frances and I not fight together?” Edana asked.
Timur took a breath and nodded, studiously doing his best to avoid Frances’s arched eyebrow. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Why though? We could fight and even hurt Morgoth together. Wouldn’t the best idea be to deploy us together?” Frances asked.
Jerome grimaced. “That’s the problem. Edana, Frances, you’re both very talented mages, but you’re also the only mages that even have a chance of fighting Thorgoth. We lose either one of you, we’d be in trouble, but if we lose both of you…”
“We’d be utterly fucked,” said Timur.
Frances winced at how utterly miserable her fiance sounded at the prospect. Her mother, however, didn’t look so convinced.
“Compartmentalising your strength here is perhaps not the best choice. I don’t think either Frances or I can fight Thorgoth alone,” said Edana.
“You won’t instantly get destroyed, which is something we can’t say for the rest of our mages. So our defense against Thorgoth rests on you,” said Jerome.
Grimacing, Frances asked, “Alright, but if we’re not to be deployed together, we need to rendezvous when Thorgoth shows himself.”
Edana scowled. “Frances—”
“What about we have the other always in reserve? Say Frances is deployed at first. Edana will be in reserve nearby. That way, she can be sent in to reinforce the moment there’s trouble,” said Timur.
Frances nodded. “I like that. Mom?”
Pursing her lips, Edana drummed her fingers along Poker. “I think that’s acceptable. But let’s make sure to reevaluate this as the battle goes on.”
“Good idea,” said Jerome.
***
“Sorry about that, Frances,” said Timur. The pair were walking hand in hand just through one of the many streets of the city.
“It’s alright. I’m surprised the king thought he needed to bring you to convince me, though,” said Frances, her tone light and just a bit teasing.
“You are quite a formidable woman my dear.” He squeezed her hand. “That and I was more worried about your mother.”
“Now that I understand, she can be quite protective of me,” said Frances. Taking a breath, she looked up, past the lights of the city to the dark cavern roof. “Timur, if we win this, how…how would the future look?”
“Um, quite promising. I mean, we have our house in Athelda-Aoun and I’m assuming Morgan would be living with us,” said the prince. He tilted his head. “We would need to make some changes as the Duke and Duchess of Athelda-Aoun. I think we might need a different workplace other than our house but we could do that at the city hall.”
Frances blinked. “Huh, yeah we would have to meet and receive people as part of our day to day. Do you think we might need extra security for our house?”
Timur nodded. “Might not be a bad idea. I can imagine that Thorgoth’s loyalists won’t be very happy with us.”
“I was more thinking that if we wanted to keep our privacy, we might need some people to just help tell onlookers where to actually reach us. You remember what I told you about the paparazzi,” said Frances.
“Oh yes, though, I don’t entirely understand why someone would be so fascinated with our private lives.” The prince suddenly blinked, his lips pinching together.
“Timur? What’s wrong?”
Frances could see that the trogre’s cheeks were coloured a light red and his tail was wrapping around his waist. “Oh, um, well, it’s just, all this talk about the future got me thinking.”
“Thinking of what?” she asked softly.
“Oh nothing super important.”
Frances blinked and despite herself, she couldn’t help a sly smile inching across her lips. “Not important to tell me while we’re fighting for our lives, my prince?”
Timur’s subsequent sheepish grin prompted Frances to squeeze her fiance’s hand. “What’s the phrase that you used? You got me wrapped around your finger?”
“Yes. What’s the Alavari version?” she asked.
“It’s a bit more crass. You’ve got my tail wrapped around your hand,” said Timur in a meaningful tone.
“That’s rather appropriate, quite a number of Alavari have tails. So…” Frances flashed Timur a sidelong, coy smile. “What’s your question?”
The prince sighed. “Children.”
“Children?”
Facing her now, Timur was still smiling, but his tone was quite serious. “How many would you like, Frances? I’m happy with just adopting Morgan, but I realised we’ve never really seriously talked about if we’d like more.”
“I’m…I haven’t given much thought to it.” But Frances had. Sometimes when she was still warm and awake beside her love, she’d thought about the idea. “I’d like a child, at least one.”
The prince blinked. “Are you sure? You’re not worried?”
“I was and still am, but…” The young mage took a deep breath. “Well, I never told you this, but I was a bit worried that I’d be a bad mother.”
A gentle hand caressed her cheek. “Were you worried about well, your mother?”
Frances shook her head, hoping her smile would reassure her love. “No, nothing like that. I was worried that what she did to me might um, might make me different or strange from other mothers.”
“You’re doing a fantastic job with Morgan, though,” said Timur.
“That’s why I’m a lot less concerned now. The responsibility I feel is heavy, but I didn’t think about how my experience could maybe help my daughter, even if it was a bad one.” Getting onto her tiptoes, Frances kissed Timur, before pulling him along. “So yes, I would like children, if we survive this.”
Her prince suddenly stopped, his grip around her wrist suddenly tightening. It hurt a little, and yet, Frances didn’t mind. She knew the meaning of his tremorous hold.
“You must,” he whispered.
She didn’t need to look back at him because she knew that his head was bowed, but she turned back anyway. Wrapping her arms around her trogre, pressing her head against his chest, she let herself sink into his embrace.
“I’m not going to die.”
His hand brushing her brown hair, the prince whispered. “I know, but…if you do end up going back, please don’t worry about me, or us.”
“Timur, you know I can never forget you,” said Frances, blinking back tears.
“I know, but…I just want you to be happy, even if I lose you.”
“And I want you to be happy as well.” Looking up into Timur’s dark eyes, Frances took a breath. “If…if I go and we still win. Please promise me you’ll take care of Morgan and Hattie?”
“Of course,” said Timur, quietly and yet with deep feeling and solemnity.
Although her heart ached, Frances managed to smile. “And find…find someone else to love too, okay? I want you to be happy as well.”
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“I’ll try. But only if you promise to do the same,” said Timur, his voice husky.
Closing her eyes, Frances somehow managed to nod. It was one of the most difficult things she had done, despite the fact her head felt so heavy. “I promise, Mataia.”
---
In a tower on the Third and final terrace on Kairon Aoun, Frances did her best to rest. Having fought through almost seven years other life, she and her friends had acquired the mysterious ability to be able to rest anytime they weren’t in direct combat.
To achieve this, Frances had sat against the tower wall, cloak rolled into a sortof neck pillow, a technique she’d spent ages perfecting. It wasn’t sleep she was aiming for but a restful half-nap that aimed to keep her calm in spite of the sound of cannons firing in the distance.
She was finding this a lot more difficult to do than usual, though, thanks to her adoptive daughter pacing in the sky back and forth. One would think this would be quieter because of the lack of footsteps. However, the harpy-troll’s wings were churning air much like a mechanical mixer and a harsh wuff-wuff was filling the air.
“I hate this,” Morgan hissed.
Arms crossed, Frances closed her eyes. “The battle’s barely even started, Morgan.”
“I know, but watching this sucks. I want to be down there and being useful, with Hattie and Edana,” grumbled her daughter.
Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. try not to think about your mother and student getting attacked by dragons.
Frances opened her eyes and let out a long sigh. “We are being useful by conserving our strength.”
Morgan finally alighted next to her mother, hands forming fists. “But we could be doing so much more down there. Throwing them back.”
“That won’t be possible, at least, we won’t throw them back by our strength alone. We need to follow the plan and act as the reserve,” said Frances.
Frowning, Morgan crossed her arms. “Wouldn’t it just be better to crush them quickly?”
With a grimace, Frances rose to her feet and gestured the harpy-troll to follow her. “This is going to be your first strategy lesson.” Leaning against the wall, Frances pointed down to the Second Terrace. “Take a moment to look at our defences.”
Eagle-like eyes narrowed, the princess scanned the walls. Frances watched her daughter with a bit of a smile as she recalled her own lessons with then Earl now Queen Forowena. Did she ever look so frustrated?
“Well, the walls are tall and we have soldiers and cannons there and behind it. It just looks like the enemy is pushing up against the wall anyway,” said Morgan.
Frances nodded, trying her best not to wince at the observation. Despite the bombardment by the Erisdalian cannon, the Alavari were still advancing.
The approach Thorgoth’s army was employing was probably what Frances would have suggested herself. Teams of soldiers were digging siege trenches bringing the Alavari lines closer towards the wall. The trenches themselves were still a ways away, having just reached the slope where the First Terrace had been.
Yet that was exactly what Thorgoth’s army needed. The remnants of the collapse weren’t perfect. They sloped down, leaving bits of cover that could be used. Groups of skirmishers, mainly musketeers sometimes accompanied by dismounted dragoon cavalry were firing from these spots. They were supported by mages who sometimes threw up bulwarks of earth or shielded their soldiers. Above them, harpies were flying, just outside of effective musket range, waiting to dart in and fire a volley with their small arms, or cast spells.
The result was a dangerous game between the defenders on the Second Terrace’s walls and the Alavari, where both sides were trying to take potshots at the other without losing their lives. All the while, cannonballs from Thorgoth’s army slammed into the terrace or walls, whilst Erisdalian artillery slammed down on top of the Alavari’s heads.
“That’s true, but we are holding and what do you see behind those walls?” Frances asked.
Her daughter frowned. “Well, um, huh. The wounded are being rotated back and replaced. There’s also… ammunition?” Morgan muttered.
“Yes,” said Frances pointing with Ivy’s Sting at the steady stream of allied troops carrying supplies and wounded to the wall and fro. “But do you also see the groups behind the wall?”
Morgan nodded before glancing at her mother. “Yeah, but what are they doing? Shouldn’t they be getting onto the walls and shooting? I mean I get why we have soldiers assigned to move the wounded and ammunition to and away from the walls, but wouldn’t it be more effective if we just hit them really hard?”
“To answer that question Morgan, I need to ask you one,” said Frances. “Do you think that we’re fighting the entirety of Thorgoth’s army right now? All thirty thousand or so soldiers and the dragons?”
“Well of course not the dragons, they’re…huh.” Frances bit back the urge to giggle as the princess’s head whipped side to side so she could take in the battlefield. “Wait, you’re right, where’s the rest of grandad’s army?”
“In reserve, like ours. Why do you think so?” Frances asked.
“So…so they can counter our reserves if we deploy them,” said Morgan slowly.
“Indeed, so we can’t just deploy our reserves now, especially since we don’t need to at the moment. We’re holding the walls as it is,” said Frances.
The princess finally alighted on the tower roof, brow now furrowed in thought. “Then why do we need reserves—Oh. We need them in case Thorgoth starts sending more soldiers to try to break through the walls.”
France hummed and nodded, her eyes searching for her mother and Hattie. They were too far to really where the pair had been deployed but it didn’t stop her from trying.
After all, as much as she was trying to stay calm for Morgan’s sake, she was also just as worried. She knew she was just better at hiding it.
“Frances, but say they deploy another wave, we deploy some of our reserves, they deploy another wave, we deploy the rest of our reserves and then they deploy dragons. We don’t have anything to counter the dragons, do we?”
Morgan’s voice was quiet, inquisitive even, which was something Frances normally enjoyed hearing. She liked her adoptive daughter to ask such questions.
That question, though, was something that Frances hadn’t been wanting to answer.
“We do have me, my mom, Anriel and our strongest mages,” said Frances slowly.
“But if they’re deployed first say against their mages or soldiers, then we’ll be in trouble, right?” Morgan asked.
Frances nodded. “Which is why Queen Forowena and King Jerome have insisted that Edana and I be deployed separately. They want at least one of us as a final reserve.”
The harpy-troll swallowed. “But… they still have six dragons.”
Unable to stop herself, Frances let out a heavy sight. “Yes. Yes they do. We do have one thing on our side.”
“Which is?”
“Time. We just need to buy time. Thorgoth has to attack us and as long as we buy enough time, our allies will arrive,” said Frances, her grip on Ivy’s Sting tightening.
“But after all that, can we beat Thorgoth?”
“I don’t know, but I do know that we’re not only going to see the Lapanterian army of ten thousand soldiers and mages, we’ll also have the rest of the Lightning Battalion and the Erisdalian forces from the Traditionalists. A total of twenty-thousand soldiers.” Frances nodded to herself. “If we hurt Thorgoth’s army enough, even he can’t win against that many.”
The princess took a breath, forcing a smile to her face. Frances could tell, it just didn’t reach all the way across. “Yeah…you’re probably right mom. I’m just worried.”
Frances bit her lip, wondering if this had also been what her mother Edana had felt when talking to her. Just what was the best way to talk about this with her child? Honesty she supposed, but it was so hard to be truthful about such a topic.
“I’m worried too, Morgan. I’m pretty sure you can tell,” Frances finally admitted.
“I can, but it’s hard to tell how worried you are. You seem a bit different,” said Morgan.
That made Frances blink. “In what way?”
Morgan gave her a look, studying her. “Not in a bad way, just…you seem almost happier, which doesn’t make sense.”
“I don’t think I’m happier, especially with the battle going on,” said Frances with a wry chuckle. “I’m just not so scared of being sent back.”
The harpy-troll’s eyes widened. “What? But…you hated living with your mother and step-father.”
“I was deeply afraid of them and I’m still a bit scared, but after everything I’ve done, all I’ve seen, I’m a lot less afraid now. I’m not that frightened, unloved girl anymore.” Reaching to her daughter, Frances squeezed her shoulder. “I have your love, my mother’s love, Timur’s love, and the love of my friends and family, my real family. Even if I’m lost, I will still have that.”
Morgan smiled, holding onto Frances’s hand. “When you put it like that… that doesn’t sound so scary.”
“Mmhm. I…I still don’t want to lose you, or anyone else, though.” Frances took a deep breath as a chill ran up her arms. “And I don’t have a good feeling about this battle.”
“What do you mean?”
“King Jerome and Queen Forowena…” Frances grimaced. Every time she thought about her former teacher and her husband, something seemed to grip her chest. She had a feeling she knew why, but she also knew that she was perhaps not wanting to accept that answer. “Their plan is good, but you’re not wrong. If Thorgoth decided he wanted to launch everything at us, we’re likely to be overwhelmed. He wouldn’t because if he was rational, he will need to conserve his forces to face our reinforcements.”
“But we are talking about grandad and he’s…not always predictable isn’t he?” Morgan asked.
Frances nodded. “Yes. Thorgoth has a habit of dancing to his own tune. We…we will have to see how he responds to this situation.”
***
Wincing at the sound of a nearby cannonball slamming into the terrace, Hattie glanced at Edana. Her teacher’s mother, and teacher, was sitting on a chair in the bunker they were sharing. While the older woman was clearly listening to the soundFs of the bombardment, she didn’t seem unduly alarmed. Rather, she seemed rather alert and braced to move.
“Master Edana, if you don’t mind, can I ask a few questions?”
The green-eyed woman smiled. “Sure. I don’t think we have talked much.”
“Yeah, I’m sorry I never really asked to well…talk. I’m a bit in awe of you, ma’am. I mean, Frances still looks up to you a lot,” Hattie stammered.
Edana was already looking quite content, yet her smile somehow widened at Hattie’s words, so much so little dimples formed in her cheeks. “Well, I am also very proud of her. All I did was put her on the right path so to speak.”
“I guess that’s kind of what she’s doing for me.” Hattie took a deep breath. “How did you do it?”
“You mean how I helped Frances heal?” Edana asked.
“I mean, how did you inspire her to help others like me and Morgan?” Hattie asked.
Edana blinked. “That was all Frances, she was always very kind.”
Hattie’s smile didn’t falter, she instead found herself rising to her feet. “She is, but um, she must have learnt that from someone, maybe you?”
“I don’t remember teaching her that, though. I just…I just tried to teach her that she could get better and overcome her fears, while also trying to provide an example.” Edana shrugged. “Maybe that was enough.”
“Maybe…but in any case, thank you, ma’am,” said Hattie, bowing her head.
Edana chuckled. “You’re welcome dear.”
A soldier, an Erlenbergian ogre ran in, panting. “Grandmaster, Miss Hattie. Dragons are approaching.”
“That’s our cue. Are you ready, Hattie?”
“Ready, ma’am,” said Hattie, clutching Silver Star in a very tight grip. Yet she found her voice was clear.
Edana gestured for her student’s apprentice to follow her as she strode out into the trenches and toward the Second Terrace’s Wall. In the distance, they could see winged beasts flying towards them.