III.
Three months passed in quietude, with the fighting at the border just a distant reminder of the troubles outside the Crystal Kingdom. The four Starkindler youths spent their time training their war coursers. In usual fashion, the brothers secretly helped their sister learn the skills of bow and sword. As for the king, he returned often from the battlefield to see his family and report about the stalemate at the edge of the kingdom. For them all, the focus was not on the war so much as on the upcoming tournament, held on the eve of the new moon during Planting Time*.
[*Side note: The eight divisions of the year in the Syrean calendar: Deepest Snow, Snow Thaw, Planting Time, Flowering Time, Growing Time, Harvest-Gathering, Levies and Storage, First Snow (each 1.5 month/8 weeks long)].
The complacent mood was not to last, however.
In the stillness of an early summer morning, the beat of drums rang through the forest pines, accompanied by the clash of metal. Birds shrieked away from their quiet resting places in the pine boughs, and small forest creatures scampered nervously at the prelude of the marching feet. The enemy army broke from the forest, at the edge of the farthest peach orchard, its evil shape breaking the tranquility of the day.
Lance and the others had been practicing swordsmanship in the wheat field, under the watchful eye of their father, back from two weeks on the border. They had been hard at work, preoccupied with not getting hit, and it took some time to notice the danger nearing. Zerra was the first to notice the far-off army; her perch on Vale's back giving her more of a view of the landscape. She gave a terrored start at the sight of the unexpected enemy flags and choked back a cry. “Father, it-it's an army!”
King Lanar paled and rushed to his horse shouting, “Hurry, back to the castle! It’s the maunstorz!” He heeled Victory between his sons and the army as they hurried to mount. His attempt seemed futile, since the army could easily hack him down—single, defiant obstacle that he was.
“Father, we must go!” Zerra begged as her brothers rode past. “You cannot take on the whole army by yourself!”
Lanar consented easily enough and whirled to follow his sons and daughter. They rushed to the safety of the orchard and galloped through the rows toward the castle. “We must find Matar and signal the Crystine.” Lanar ordered as they ran.
Vale quickly overtook the other mounts with his longer legs and inherited speed. Soon, the pair disappeared up the main lane to the castle. Zerra knew every second counted if they were going to defend the keep. She crouched lower, becoming a part of her companion and edged him to higher speeds. They broke into the courtyard, scattering attendants and grooms in their wake. Vale skidded to a halt at the center of the yard, and Zerra yelled out her warning. “The maunstorz, the maunstorz have broken through! They are at the Northern road. All men to arms!” Everyone stopped and stared at the princess as if they had not understood her words. The whole place became deathly silent, leaving her voice to echo through the yard as she repeated the warning again and again.
Finally, Commander Matar appeared, dressed in his leather tunic and battle armor. “All men to arms! Come on you dullards, we must defend the castle!”
Zerra nodded her gratefulness at the veteran fighter and cued Vale up the main steps of the castle. She burst through the wooden doors, scattering the sentries there, and pounded through the anteroom. Servants stopped in astonishment as Zerra rode in on her dark mount, yelling for men to go to arms. The pair streaked right past the gaping attendants and bound up the main staircase.
Queen Lestial met them at the top with her hand on her hips. “Now you've done it! Running that animal through these halls. Out with him now!”
Zerra ignored her mother's furry. “The maunstorz are attacking! Father needs his broadsword from his chamber.” Lestial turned a deathly white shade and hurried passed her daughter and horse to see the danger for herself. Zerra heard her yell orders to the servants below and saw them scurry for anything to protect themselves. “Let's go.” The young girl nudged Valed Darkness down the long hallway and up a stone stairway.
They reached the third level and turned left to the king's private study. The princess slid down from Vale's back and thrust the heave oak door aside. She rushed through, into the oak-furnished room, and surveyed the tapestried walls for the black scabbard of Sorengraand. The broadsword hung beside a seven-shelved bookcase near the fireplace. Zerra stretched for it and nearly dropped its heavy weight as it slid free of its pegs. Burdened, she stumbled back to Vale's side and propped it against his left foreleg as she swung herself back aboard. Zerra hauled the broadsword up onto her lap and asked Vale back around. They took off again, back down the stairs and through the near-empty halls.
The black horse and his young rider bound out of the front doorway into a fray of warriors. The courtyard was in total chaos. Beyond the shouting of the Crystine soldiers, the sounds of a battle drifted back to the princess. She searched through the crowd but found neither her father nor her brothers among the horde; however, Commander Matar was ordering soldiers to horseback near the stables. She kneed Vale through the throng toward him, letting the stallion's powerful bulk shove the men aside.
Matar glanced up as she approached and frowned. “You must leave this area. We can't have you in the way.”
Zerra glared back. “The king needs his broadsword.” She indicated to Sorengraand in her arms. “He only had a short-sword in the field.”
Matar paled as he realized what that entailed. “He can't possibly survive without more protection.” The commander yelled for another man to take his place organizing and directing the soldiers. As another veteran took his position, he ran up to the towering stallion—ignoring the black's laid-back ears and cocked leg—and jumped aboard behind the princess. “He was just outside the wall a moment ago.”
Zerra did not need to be told twice, though her black courser did; the stallion pinned over the uncomfortable, armored stranger on his back. Zerra coaxed him a few steps forward, begging him to go faster. Finally, the stallion seemed to realize her urgency was precedent, though he still gave a baleful snort at the affront. He charged through the gathered warriors, then, to the thrown open gates.
Two sentries there tried to stop them, for they were trying to get the solders in to close off the entrance way, but Matar ordered Zerra to push through. He shouted at the sentries to let others pass and ordered the nearby horsemen to group up and follow. Once outside, they turned right and galloped down the length of the high castle walls toward a small group of soldiers holding a maunstorz party at bay. Among the group, Zerra spotted her father and brothers hacking and shooting at the enemy. Lance caught sight of the black steed racing toward them and ordered the soldiers on the side closest to them to open up a breaths-width for the horses to pass through.
Vale slid to a halt beside Starwind, and Matar leapt off with Sorengraand in his hand. Zerra maneuvered herself so she was protected by her brother. She stretched for his bow and quiver. Zerra let loose a volley of twelve arrows into the enemy force before she ran out. Lance pushed her head down as the enemy shot back and knocked arrows away with his sword. “I can't hold for both of us for long!” He warned as the front line of Crystine soldiers were pushed back. Zerra nodded and pushed back a wave of fear at his words.
Suddenly, Matar was back. He jumped up behind the princess again and unsheathed his sword. “Do as I say and we may yet survive,” he yelled in her ear. Zerra swallowed, feeling numbed, and took hold of the dagger he handed her. At his next order, she kneed Vale forward in a charge with the rest of the mounted soldiers. The line in front of them hacked at the enemy, breaking a small hole through of the maunstorz force. “Protect the king and the princes! We must get them back to the keep.” Matar boomed out and the solders renewed their vigor from the three directions they defended. The western edge plowed through the enemy, allowing just enough space for the royal family to head back toward the gates. The rest of the cavalry followed.
Men all around Zerra and Matar were being hacked down, but the veteran kept them safe from the enemy blades. He urged her to work Vale up toward the front, and they edged through to the outside to stop a maunstorz interception force. Then, it was all over and the tiny group of fighters were passing through the front gates.
The tired band flowed into the courtyard, where it was finally cleared of soldiers. The Crystine had reached their places atop the wall, leaving only young squires and pages to take the lathered horses from the king's men. Zerra looked around her and saw many deep wounds on the soldiers. One was leaning off the side of his horse, spitting blood and wiping fervently at a gushing gash across his face. When he straightened, Zerra realized he was trying to cover the mess where his left eye had been. Sickened, she turned away only to see more men with wounds of their legs and arms and one man with just a stump where his fighting hand had been.
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“Don't throw up of me.” Matar commanded as he wrapped an arm around her to steady the princess. “You should go to the infirmary. You will be of more use there. Your horse is safe with me.” To lighten his blow, he added, “You did well out there, girl. Be proud of that.”
Zerra slid down from Vale's tall back and leaned against his massive shoulder to steady herself. When she finally regained her senses, she glanced back at the stern face of the commander. “Vale won't listen to anyone else. You'll end up fighting him more than the enemy.”
Matar gave her a look that said, “I know.” He touched the stallion gently, in a kind of assurance. “He and I know each other well enough, plus he is not going to try anything stupid in this hell—he's too smart for that.” Zerra would have argued further, like the fact that her steed was tackless, but Zeek came over to drag her back to the castle. As she was led away, Matar shouted at her, “He will see you after the battle safe and sound, on my word, Princess!”
Zerra nodded numbly and turned away to join her three tired brothers in their climb up the main stairs. Page looked the worst, with a steadily bleeding gash in his shoulder. He sagged weakly against Lance, who seemed fine, even with a painful-looking cut above his right eye. Lance took his time guiding his younger brother up the steps, making sure to keep Page talking, so he wouldn't pass out with each jarring step. Beside Zerra, Zeek trudged wearily, cleaning his sword on a small cloth to distract his disturbed mind. Zerra read the lines in his face and realized her brother shared the same shaking cold as she did. After all, they had never seen battle until that day. Now that they had, Zerra understood why soldiers never talked about it much.
“You okay, sis?” Zeek asked, noticing her brooding countenance.
“Fine, I'm fine.” Zerra managed to croak out. To show he understood, Zeek wrapped an arm around her shoulders and walked with her. “Is Page going to be all right?”
Zeek nodded. “I believe so. His wound looks minor, not at all as bad as it appears. He just caught the edge of a blade is all.”
Is all. Zerra thought while they walked through the broad wooden doorway into the anteroom. Zeek must have seen the doubt shadowed in her eyes became he rushed to add, “Really, it's minor. If the sword had struck Page square on, he could have lost his whole shoulder.”
“That didn't help.” Zerra tried to joke with a forced smile. Zeek shrugged helplessly with an embarrassed look of his own.
The princess balked at the doorway leading to the infirmary. Even though the battle had just started, there was a soldier in each bed and seven more laying or sitting down, where room could be found. The nurses and maids were hustling about trying to take care of the wounded, but they were already taxed to their limit. Queen Lestial hurried over to inspect her sons, aghast at their appearances. She finished her inspection of Page's arm and wiped her hands on her bloodied dress. “Come on, let's get you cleaned up.” She paused to look at the other two princes, though, lingering to be sure they were all right. “You two don't need to be here. Go somewhere where you're not in the way of the nurses.”
Lance and Zeek left silently, numbed in the aftermath of their battle. Zerra watched them go, longingly, then turned back to her mother, knowing she would have to work. Lestial silently approved and motioned for her to help Page, as he hobbled over to an empty corner. Zerra steadied her elder brother, as their mother prepared him a bed, then lowered him down onto the thin pallet of blankets. More soldiers hobbled in as the two women settled Page into a comfortable position. Queen Lestial sighed raggedly and hauled herself to her feet to help, leaving Zerra alone to care for her brother.
Zerra dipped a cloth into herbal water and pressed it against her brother's injury. Page hissed in pain but held the cloth in place as his sister took her dagger to his shirt. Once the bloodied strips of cloth were removed the princess dabbed away the drying, crimson blood. She wet the rag again.
Between their silence the siblings became aware of the groans of the other soldiers and the loud grumblings of the newcomers. “They've broken down our defenses, My Queen. There is very little we can do, except try to hold our walls. Their numbers are great. Eventually they will overwhelm us. I fear we are at a loss.” An old veteran of the Crystine army was telling Lestial. His companions voiced similar assessments, proving how truly unprepared the Crystine had been. Around the room, the princess heard similar words of, “How did they even get past our lines and without warning?” Everyone from the castle who heard became more troubled as the hopelessness of the situation filtered in.
The siblings exchanged a glance at the news. “Our kingdom will be lost.” Page stated, his voice echoing Zerra's feelings of doom. “We never expected the maunstorz to reach the castle, let alone break through our outer defenses.”
“It wasn’t anything we had predicted.” Zerra agreed. It seems too impossible. How could they have gotten through the forces by Wynward's Crossing or did they get through at Tarry? Messengers should have come with a warning, at the least. Her thoughts strayed to the possibility of an inside spy, but that thought seemed even more farfetched than the invasion. However, this is war. Page's groan brought Zerra back to her task. Concerned, she realized her brother had been going into shock. Now, he was a stark white color, cold to the touch, and was beaded with perspiration. Cursing, Zerra dipped her cloth and wiped her brother's face before covering him with more blankets.
A tiny, pained chuckle escaped Page's lips. “It's great to see a princess curse. You would have made a great soldier.”
“You're not thinking straight.” Zerra countered, to hide her surprise. Page had always scolded her endlessly on acting unladylike. He had, in fact, angrily told her off a number of times for it; for him to suddenly laugh about it seemed unusual. “Here, you need to drink this.”
Page stared at her solemnly, fighting his pain and ignoring the offered medicine. “I mean it, Zer. I know I chastised you for it countless of times but only so you wouldn't be shunned by everyone at court—that's important you know, appearances I mean. Yet, it was always something I could count on you doing.”
“Don't start any dying speeches on me,” Zerra warned, “I am not ready to lose a brother.”
Page chuckled again, only to finish with a hiss as his wound burned. “I'll try not to, sis. I'd miss your petty arguments, after all.”
Zerra smiled in spite of her growing sense of despair. Could her brother really die from such a wound? She didn't know, for she was no physician.
A loud thunder of feet in the hallway surprised everyone in the room. Sensing something was wrong, Zerra grabbed her dagger and rose into a defensive posture beside her brother's bed. Just as she did, a large group of eighteen maunstorz blocked the entrance way. Their eyes were an eerie blood-red color that matched the dull gleam of human blood on their dark armor. The look was haunting beneath oil-slicked, spiked hair and the tattoos that some had across their arms and faces. Hissing victoriously, the front maunstorz, their leader, sauntered into the room. His eyes took in the room hungrily. The look paused on the princess guarding her brother in the corner.
“Cvesoth zerek nevser shevnk!” He crowed and pointed at the two siblings. “Take them and search for the others. Zepthanial had uses for them.” The leader's voice sounded ragged in the common tongue but Zerra knew what he had said. Whomever this Zepthanial was, he wanted her brothers, and maybe herself, for reasons she was sure included much harm.
Queen Lestial knew it too. In fear, she threw herself between the maunstorz and her children. “You won't ever have them!” Her words seemed to reveal she had a secret about what the maunstorz wanted, but Zerra could only guess at what her mother was trying to warn her against.
The leader hissed out an amused laugh. “Our great Mansocan had no use for you, Queen Lestial.” To his warriors he said, “Kill her.”
It took a moment for the words to sink into Zerra's mind. Once they did, however, Zerra realized what that entailed. She also realized her mother stood defenseless against her own killers. “No!” The princess screamed and pushed past her mother just as the first maunstorz brought his sickle-shaped sword down. She blocked the powerful blow and rushed in to stab the creature in the throat. Unthinkingly, she turned to her next opponent and blocked his sword too; however, she had never fought so many opponents before and was quickly subdued. The leader laughed at her rebellion and had her hustled away, but not before he had her witness her mother's death: Queen Lestial stood stone-still, except for her constant swallowing. A warrior raised a weapon behind her and ran it through her back and out her abdomen. The queen gaped in pain but refused to give them the pleasure of a cry. It seemed as if the minutes passed slowly before the queen slouched, lifeless, to the ground. The warrior kicked her body off his sword as if she was garbage and advanced to where the prince lay. Another maunstorz followed him and helped lift the prince, cursing under his breath from the jostling of his wound, to his feet.
Zerra was half-dragged and half-carried to the courtyard where she was dumped into a pile with her brother. In shock over the suddenness of her mother's death, Zerra didn't notice when they were joined by her father, Lance, and Zeek. When the still-warm body of the queen was thrown in front of them, however, her eyes did clear to take in the harsh reality.
“There's your queen, oh powerful king!” The leader spat on Lanar's face with pleasure. “Oh, how defiant she was.” The maunstorz laughed as if it was the greatest joke they had ever heard. “And so proudly did she stand as my man impaled her on his sword.”
Lanar's muscles clenched on his jaws but didn't respond nor did he look at the lifeless form of his wife.
Satisfied, the king had gotten his message, the leader motioned for his gathered army to collect the royal family. “We march them back to Xerconvith. Leave the Crystine swine to rot here in their courtyard. Their corpses will signal to all the kingdoms their coming doom.”
The princess was prodded to her feet beside her brothers and marched down through the bloodied courtyard. In sudden impulse, she glanced back and found Commander Matar staring after her, from his fallen place at Valed Darkness's hooves. An arrow protruded from his thigh and blood covered him from head to toe, but there was a fire in his eyes that seemed to tell her to be strong. Even after she vanished out of his sight, his intense, midnight-blue gaze played in front of her. So, we will go to this Xerconvith far to the north and west. Her heart hardened with resolve, even though the pain over the loss of her mother made her chest constrict. I cannot fall. People need to know of the cruelness of these maunstorz. I swear, if I can escape, they will pay! Her vow echoed inside her head long after they were marched from the kingdom of her homeland. With it, the image of the Crystine commander spurred her resolve into a hard drive for survival. Somehow, the maunstorz would pay.