Martin felt his stomach clenched as he saw his wife’s banner flying towards the lightning storm on their right flank.
“Is that my wife—” The king swallowed and turned his attention back to his communication totem. “Sorry, Mara. Can we confirm the reports of the surrenders?”
“Yes, multiple enemy units are surrendering. There are some that are resisting, but the majority are laying down their arms or are running away,” said Mara.
“Alright, keep up on it. I need to go to the right flank myself.” Martin hung up and just in time as his device rang again.
“Martin, Megara here. I think we’ve gotten the Alavari army on the run, but Thorgoth still appears to be standing,” said the Queen of Lapanteria.
His attention on the lightning crashing down on the army’s right, Martin had to nevertheless squash the alarm in his heart. He didn’t think he was entirely successful. “I know. Can you ask Sebastian to take command of the army and direct all the mages we can spare to our right. I’m doing the same, but I need to go to the right with the Erisdalian reserve division.”
“Can do,” said Megara.
“Your Majesty, are you sure we need to go there?” asked Master Spinella.
Martin nodded. “Yes. It’s where Ginger is and where Thorgoth and his last loyalists are. If we are to prevent further loss of life, it’s there.”
Prince Timur spoke up, a smile warped with worry twisting his face. “Queen Titania also reports they’ve broken through the Alavari rear. General Glowron seems to be missing in action. She says she’ll come to our assistance, but it’ll take time to get through their camp.”
“Understood, Timur, you’re with me,” Martin said.
“To get our lady loves?” Timur asked. The Alavari tried to make his voice sound casual, but he wasn’t fooling anybody.
Martin smirked, far too wide, but he wasn’t trying to project the image of a king right now. “You and I both know that our Mataia are far more likely to be rescuing themselves.”
Timur laughed, putting his spurs to his horse. “Then let’s get them!”
***
Frances, we can’t keep this up.
She knew that, but she didn’t know what else to do. She’d been hitting Thorgoth for longer than she’d had any right to, had maintained the storm over him for longer than she had ever recalled, but now her arms felt weary. Her legs had locked up. Multi-colored spots almost blinded her. She wasn’t even sure if the rainbow of dots she saw were from not being able to close her eyes fast enough from the flashes of light, or from the lack of oxygen she’d managed to channel into her tired lungs.
Frances coughed and staggered. Another spell. She had to cast another spell. Maybe just one more and Thorgoth’s shield would break. All that came out of Frances’ chapped lips was a wheeze. She licked them, but her tongue was dry.
“No!” Frances waved Ivy’s Sting. She had to cast. Every second counted. If she didn’t cast, Thorgoth was going to come back. He was going to—
She blinked and through her bleary vision she saw. Her stomach churned. Her world turned and she nearly fell. Frances couldn’t remember the last time she felt so tired.
Frances, run! Just run. He’s coming!
She could see Thorgoth now rising from the blackened and blasted crater that she’d dug him into with her repeated spells. He’d ripped his helmet off and was trying to wipe his face with his tattered cloak. Even so, sweat matted his hair.
“Well, congratulations, Frances Stormcaller! You continue to impress me in equal measure to your annoyance!.. But now, finally, it is time for you to die, and know that you’ve lost.”
Thorgoth, grinning now, strode toward her and sheathed his sword. His heavy steps crunching over the blasted ash-streaked ground and the shards of glass that her spells had created.
Frances knew she should be terrified and she was to some degree. Her heart was pounding in her chest and she was trying desperately to get her wand up.
Yet something bothered her more than the possibility of her dying.
“Thorgoth, you’re wrong,” she said, almost croaking the words out. “You’ve lost. Even if you defeat me, you’ve lost.”
The king didn’t stop walking. He merely smirked. “You won’t live to see it.”
“My life is worth it, unlike all the suffering you caused. Unlike you, I didn’t kill my own son, or hurt so many members of my own family.”
Thorgoth snorted. He was about to be close enough to reach out to her. “Unlike you, I can’t be killed.”
“Unlike you, I’m happy,” Frances said. She blinked as Thorgoth suddenly stopped, his arm half-risen, about to grab her neck. “Oh dear. I’m right aren’t I? After every horrible thing you did to take revenge, you’re still not happy aren’t you?”
Thorgoth grabbed Frances’ neck, his smile gone. His lips curled with cold fury. “You were a useless child that was beaten every day. You can never be happy.”
“But I am. I’ve been happy with who I am for a long time. I just didn’t realize it.” Frances shook her head, one hand trying to break Thorgoth’s grip. Yet despite his fingers tightening around her throat, she couldn’t help but force a laugh.
Thorgoth, single-eye narrowed, squeezed even harder. “What’s so fucking funny, Stormcaller?”
Still grinning, Frances did her best not to look past the Demon King. “You talk just as much as your son, Thorgoth.”
“What—”
The king threw Frances aside. Perhaps it was sheer instinct, perhaps he heard the scything hiss of Ginger’s slash, or maybe the clink of her armor, what mattered was now Frances could breathe again and she staggered backward as the Queen of Erisdale charged after the Alavari King.
Thorgoth parried Ginger’s second cut, but the force of her blow nearly wrenched the blade from his gauntleted hand. He was left scrambling and trying to regain his footing. Frances held her breath. Maybe she hadn’t hurt him but her spells had done something. It must have been exhausting to maintain that magic and while Thorgoth had reserves they weren’t infinite.
Thorgoth cried out a note, throwing Ginger back. The queen slammed into the dirt beside Frances, who immediately helped her friend up.
“Fool! You are a magic-less common bitch picked up from the back streets. You have no chance of defeating me.”
Ginger shook her head and shrugged. “But they do.”
Frances frowned and realized she suddenly could hear wingbeats just as Thorgoth’s eyes widened. He leapt, dodging the jetstream of flames that poured onto his position. Rolling with surprising limberness, the Alavari king rose to his feet and threw up a shield as bolts of magic from above rained down on him.
Hattie was responsible for these as Silver Star shone a bright white in her grip, casting stark shadows across her visage. Gone was the nervous lip and downcast eyes. Frances’ apprentice had cast off her doubt and now continued to barrage Thorgoth while clinging onto Fennokra.
Meanwhile, from the backs of the Yolandra, Morgan wielded Lightbreaker like a conductor’s baton. As she sang higher and higher, the violet sphere of magic she built grew and grew.
“Morgan, Hattie! Get out of there!” Frances screamed. She tried to wave her arm, and nearly lost her balance.
“No, we need to get you out of here, Frances!” Ginger hissed. “Your mother’s going to re-engage. They’ll be fine!”
Frances couldn’t fight her much larger friend on a good day and she barely could stand. Ginger dragged her away, heels bouncing on the dirt as she watched Thorgoth turn his attention to her daughter and apprentice.
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To her relief, a bolt of fire forced Thorgoth to duck. Edana was striding toward the king as fast as her back would allow her, using Poker to almost launch herself forward with every step.
That relief was immediately dashed as Thorgoth straightened and let out a primal roar. It wasn’t a loud roar, but it was so intense it shook her bones and reverberated to the core of her being. Suddenly, the king whipped his wand in a scything motion toward Edana. The Firehand immediately threw up a shield and fell to one knee as a roiling purple whip of magic slammed into her barrier, smashing onto her and anybody unfortunate enough to be behind her. Frances could already hear the screams from the impact. Her mother’s barrier held, but it looked like nearly-shattered glass from how many cracks were in it.
Howling, Thorgoth turned to the dragons and threw the whip at Hattie and Fennokra. Before Frances’s eyes, the whip lengthened and grew, while its end transformed into a serpent’s head.
The dragon twisted, but the king was far too fast. The serpent smashed into Fennokra’s side. Her howls were cut short by a gasp as the whip suddenly went taught, halting the dragon mid-flight and sending her plunging down.
Hattie cut the whip with a wild yell, sending a scythe of magic to break the connection. Fennokra tried to regain her height, but she’d been flying too low and only managed to arrest her dive. A dark-blue shield flashed around the dragon and rider, Hattie’s magic, but it didn’t stop the pair from slamming into the ground, sending up a cloud of dust.
“Hattie!” Morgan’s scream tore Frances’ attention back to the sky.
She could somehow tell her daughter was crying. Whether she could see the glint of her tears catching the violet light from her sphere, or maybe hear it in her voice, Frances just knew. She also knew this was not going to go well.
Somehow, Frances managed to slip Ginger’s grip. Or did she wrench herself out of it? She wasn’t sure, but she was running back towards the battle and where Thorgoth stood. Somehow, despite the edges of her vision getting darker, she could see the king’s face wrinkle as his jaw stiffened and his lips twisted in a scar.
“Fuck you!” Morgan let loose her spell. A whining, zap was immediately followed by the screeching hiss as her ray of light superheated the ground that it hit.
But Thorgoth had thrown himself out of the way. With unerring agility, he rolled over the blasted ground and came to his feet. His wand rose towards the turning dragon. Morgan, eyes wide, stopped firing her beam as she tried to desperately bring a shield up. Yet, she already knew she would never make it against the years of experience that her grandfather had.
Frances also knew that and that was why she placed Ivy’s Sting lengthwise between her teeth and physically threw herself at the king. She had no idea whether it was adrenaline, desperation or maternal instincts, but somehow while in mid-air Alanna practically leapt from sheath to her hand. The fact she was approaching the king from the side of his injured eye meant he never saw her coming and that meant that the blade of her estoc crashed into the steel covering his arm.
There was a flash as Thorgoth’s spell went wide, striking the cavern wall in the distance. At the same time, Frances heard a sharp clang and a grunt. When she brought her sword back up, she found herself with a half a blade.
Thorgoth clutched his arm, one eye narrowed on Frances. There was a sizeable welt in the steel armor, and Frances now realized her hands were hurting. His once handsome features seemed to be wearing a mask that resembled a wild, furious animal, or perhaps the king’s handsome charm was just a covering for the beast underneath. No matter, because the Demon King was now incandescent with rage and pain.
“Time to burn Stormcaller. Scream for me.”
Frances dropped Alanna, grabbing Ivy’s Sting with her hands. She knew she was too close. She knew this was the end. She didn’t have enough magic to bring any shields up. The king was already saying Words of Power that meant “fire and skin-melting.” She was going to be sent back to Earth, and it was going to hurt.
Except, Frances found herself smiling. Her daughter had leapt off Yolandra’s back and was trying to fly to her, but she was way too far. Morgan was screaming something, reaching towards her in a vain attempt to save her. More importantly, though, she was safe.
“Ivy, thank you. I love you.”
She could sense that if her wand could smile, she was doing so. “Love you too, Frances. We lived well didn’t we?”
Flames were roaring from Thorgoth’s wand.
“We did,” Frances thought as she braced herself. She only wished she could have talked to Timur, her friends and her mother for one last time.
Scaled armor filled Frances’s vision, followed by Edana’s dragon helm. Armored arms seized Frances in a tight hug before the pair were flying through the air. Acrid smoke filled Frances’ nose as they tumbled over and over before they suddenly were bounced across the ground.
Frances blinked. She was alive, staring at the ceiling of the great cavern. A split second later, her mind registered what happened. Instantly, cold dread filled her heart as she scrambled to her feet. Ivy’s Sting still in her hand she found who she was looking for.
“Mom?” Frances whispered.
Arms and legs spreadeagled on the ground, Edana didn’t reply. Black scorch marks streaked across her armor and her dragon helm was dented and scraped. Poker was in her hand, but the fingers were loose.
“No, nononono. Mom! MOM!” Frances’ knees slammed into the dirt as she crawled to her teacher, her idol, her beloved mother and the person who was most responsible for saving her. Shaking fingers managed to undo the helm’s clasp and she pulled the dragon helm off.
Edana’s eyes were shut and she was smiling as if having a peaceful dream. She was still, too still.
Nothing mattered anymore. Her world, her hopes, her dreams, the peace she felt with herself vanished into a void.
“Mom. No. No—”
Edana took a shuddering breath and her eyes opened. “Frances? Why are you crying?”
Frances wiped her eyes. “Mom, why? Why did you save me?”
“Well what kind of mother would I be if I didn’t save you. Now help me up. Come on. We have a battle to win.” Edana tried to pull herself up and grunted as she only managed to prop herself up with her arms. “Fuck, what did he hit me with?”
Trying to push her mother back down, Frances stammered. “Mom, don’t push yourself.”
Edana arched an eyebrow. “Frances, I’m fine. Like no really. I’m fine.”
“What are you saying—”
“Frances my back hurts like a bitch, but—” Edana’s knuckle rapped against her back and Frances blinked as she heard the distinctive clink of metal against metal. “He didn’t get through my armor.”
Somewhat thoroughly gobsmacked, Frances helped her mother up and looked over her shoulder. The blackened soot did mark the armor, but after a quick brush of her hand, Frances found that it was actually scorched earth that had been picked up.
Frances wiped her eyes and shook her head. No, this wasn’t some dream or some hallucination. Her mother was alive, and she was alive. She could even hear the thundering footsteps of soldiers on the move. They were some distance from the battle with Thorgoth, a little behind the Erisdalian reserve division.
“How, what? But he hit you. I saw it! You didn’t even manage to get Poker up to shield yourself!”
Her mother smiled. “Well, technically you saved me.” Edana closed her eyes. Small circular shields blinked into existence around her and her armor glowed.
“My magical armor design,” Frances whispered.
“The one you invented for the Winter Tournament. The one that you shared with me. Once I got the chance, I upgraded my personal dragon armor with your design. I just never needed to use it until now,” Edana said.
Frances sat down, hard. An overwhelming sense of relief fell over her, drawing out even more tears that she had to futilely wipe at. “That…Amura and Rathon, I thought…I thought…”
Massaging the back of her head, Edana winced. “I know. It looked bad and now that I think about it, I don’t think I can get back to the battle. The armor stopped the flames but I don’t think it stopped the impact. That and I think I hit my head on the ground whilst we were tumbling.”
“That’s alright. I’ll call a medical team over,” Frances said, reaching for her mirror. Before she could open it, Edana gently grabbed her wrist.
“Frances, before you do, answer me this. Why did you ask “Why did you save me?”
Frances frowned. “Mom, it can wait.”
“It can’t. I need to know why you said that. Do you still think you’re not worth saving?”
In an instant, Frances understood why her mother was holding her hand so tightly. “Of course not! I just didn’t want you to die for me. I feel really good now. I don’t have any regrets and while I’d hate it, if it turned out that way, I’d be alright with being back on Earth.”
“But you want to stay, right?” Edana asked.
Nodding, Frances put her hand on her mother’s and squeezed back. “More than anything, but I don’t want you to die just to prevent me from leaving.”
Edana held Frances’ gaze for a moment before letting out a shuddering sigh. She loosened her grip, but didn’t let go of her daughter. Her eyes on their joined hands, Edana pursed her lips.
“You know you’ll have to let me go at some point, Frances,” she said.
“And you have taught me it’s okay for me to want. I want stay in Durannon, my home, with you. But I also want you to stay alive, and safe, so that you can take care of my sister and brother,” Frances said.
“Even if that meant returning to Earth?” Edana asked.
Frances paused at the question. The odd sensation she’d been feeling had returned. She knew now it wasn’t an uncomfortable one, just very unfamiliar.
“Mom, I know now that even if I return to Earth, I will be fine.” Frances smiled. She knew what she’d been feeling now and what it meant. There would always be a part of her that was still hurt by what her parents had done to her. Yet, for the first time, Frances found that she wasn’t bothered by it.
“I’ve made my peace with what happened to me, and I am happy with who I’ve become, who I am.”
Edana smiled and let out a sigh. Pulling off her gauntlet, she gently caressed Frances’ cheek. “You know that I am so proud of you, right?”
Allowing herself a small smile, Frances nodded. “I know. Now can I please call a medical team over?”
“Alright alright—”
The ground shook. Their heads turning, the two women found a large cloud of dust and smoke rising on the army’s right flank. They could also hear the winds starting to howl and while they couldn’t make out the words, they both could hear Thorgoth’s deep voice.
“You got to go back, don’t you?” Edana asked, her tone matter-of-fact.
“Of course,” said Frances.
“Frances, you’re out of magic. You can rest—”
Cutting off her mother’s protests by gently pulling her hands from Edana’s grasp, Frances pushed herself to her feet.
Thorgoth still had magic. He still could fight and he’d proven that while his army was surrendering, he could still fight and probably escape. There may not be a better chance than right now to defeat him.
“Not yet. There is one thing I know I can do,” Frances said with the utmost certainty.
Edana glanced up at her daughter. Whatever she saw seemed to have convinced her because her chin bobbed and up and down. “Alright then. Go do it.”
Reaching down, Frances quickly hugged her mother. “Love you mom.”
“I love you too, Frances. Just… make sure you come back, please,” Edana whispered as if afraid to give her worry a voice.
Frances understood that fear now all too well. She also knew nothing she would say could assuage her mother’s worry. Yet, she couldn’t help but try.
“I promise I will, mom. Earth doesn’t have Hearthsange after all.”
Edana snorted at that but she let Frances stand up again and call for a medical team.