Page 14

“I want to fight a war at your side, not because you’re dead.”

“And I don’t relish dying. So rule well in my stead, and make a vow to Justice if I fall.”

“It is a pity that the dualists lost their battle against the temples. Because I would rather swear to Vengeance in that case, given the chance.”

“Don’t let the priestesses hear you say that.” He frowned.

Though the dualists worshipped both aspects of the goddesses, Knowledge and Lies, Passion and Death, Justice and Vengeance, that very same worship gave the sinister planets the power they now wielded. Though he would prefer to live and let live when it came to the piety of his people, a cycle of chaos should never be courted. It was why he didn’t interfere if the temples sent out their paladins to hunt down dualists in his realm—unless they belonged to Orithyia.

Batea’s bark of laughter echoed in the courtyard.

“Let them sick their dogs on me. Now that would be a real fight.”

He said nothing more on the matter, following when she led him to her stables, if the pits where she created, moulded and trained her pets could be called something so pedestrian. One pit in particular caught his eye. Her favourite pets were the giant serpents, beasts descended from dragons and great serpents who had lost their ability to fly. But the ones he saw were struggling to lift off the ground as they writhed, impressive horns radiating out from their scaly brows.

“Beautiful, aren’t they? I’m close with them. One day, you and I will ride my serpents through the very skies, like in the legends.”

The military applications alone had his heart racing with excitement. But today, it was not to be. As they passed by beasts left and right, his heart sank. They neared the cages for the flying creatures.

Not the eagles.

“These should be enough.”

A shiver of revulsion raced down Theron’s spine.

The eagles were faster than any in Batea’s stables, smarter than the average man, and could carry several soldiers each. The problem was that the beasts had taken a strong dislike to him the moment they’d laid eyes on him, and delighted in doing aerial acrobatics whenever he was in their saddle. It was hardly the most dignified way to travel, but it was the fastest. If he died, he hoped the poets skipped over his mode of transportation… and how sick he would be the moment he landed.

Think of the grain .

It was what he chanted to himself over and over as the wicked beasts took to the skies, thirty warriors on their backs, a third of those from the temples. It was what he chanted over and over during the hours the feathered bastard he was strapped to crossed the Dragon’s Spine Mountains and the trade road beyond like a drunken acrobat. And it was what he chanted when they finally set down and he nearly fell to his knees and threw up in front of his warriors. He was grateful he’d taken his spear with him, so he had something to prop himself up with.

Theron glared at the eagle. One day, he would slay that beast and make an extravagant fan of its feathers. Once plucked, he would roast the creature and serve it at a celebratory dinner.

Don’t think of food .

His gorge rose. Theron breathed deeply, concentrating on standing without dizziness sending him to his knees. When at last he felt more like a man than a tumbleweed, he got the lay of the land. The merchant’s supply caravan was sitting exactly where he’d said it would be, on the other side of the Colonnades. It was too bad Canthus hadn’t set out earlier and secured the grain before now. They’d passed overhead of his general on their way here, plodding along at a normal pace on the backs of sensible, noble, land-dwelling lopers.

“Get the grain to this side of the Colonnades,” he ordered his warriors. “The rest of you remain here while we wait for the monstrosities.”

They needed to secure the supplies before any Viridian or Nivean soldiers came around their respective mountain ranges to poach his supplies. And before anyone could arrive and accuse him of marching soldiers into the territory of another monarch. Such a thing could result in a diplomatic incident.

Theron watched with great satisfaction as the errant caravan attendants were relieved of their goods or meekly marched across the Colonnades. Hopefully, this sent a message to the other Trisian merchants that if they tried to go back on their words, Aureum would give them no choice but to uphold their bargains. If Canthus was doing his job, the merchant in charge of the operation was being dragged behind the warriors on their way here, fearing for his life every step of the way.

It was a low blow for Viridis to enlist independent merchants against him. He was ashamed not to have thought of it himself first. Perhaps, in retaliation, he should make a deal with some of the pirates plying the Viridian coastline. If the Colonnades became a place tainted by monstrosities in the minds of travellers, then perhaps the pirates could raid the Viridian cargo ships to make up for the shortfall of trade goods.

Just as the last cart laden with his grain began crossing the Colonnades, a legion of Viridian soldiers and paladins rounded the edge of the Dragon’s Tail Mountains. Theron’s smile grew. They were too late. The end of the Queen’s Road was the border of Viridis’ official control. And they hadn’t been present when his warriors had crossed, so it was too late to use their intrusion into Viridian territory as political provocation. Theron leaned against a nearby boulder, enjoying the cool shade and his triumph.

As they glared at each other from across the divide, the sun travelled through the sky, the shadows of the Dragon’s Spine Mountains beginning to stretch across the narrow valley. The grain shipment was well on its way into the winding canyon pass when the shadows began to shift. At first, Theron thought it a mere trick of the light, but then the shadows began to shift again, moving as if made of gently lapping water.

“Monstrosities, Your Majesty!” cried one of the paladins, his blade drawn.

Theron readied his spear and shield as three of his archers took to the skies on the eagles, every one of their arrows tipped in divine magic. The old texts spoke of monstrosities that could fly, and he would not be caught flatfooted against airborne foes. As the shadows began bubbling around him, he stepped into the light, his heart hammering. Batea was going to be furious that she’d missed this fight.

The paladins spread their magic over the widest possible section of shadows, dispelling the evil rising within them, but there was simply too much ground to cover. As the first monstrosity reared its ugly head, Theron thrust his spear into the beast. It dissolved back into the bubbling dark, destroyed by the divine machine infused into his weapon. Just as he wondered why his ancestors had been so troubled by the creatures, three more rose up where the last one had been felled. In a matter of moments, the monstrosities could not be beaten back before they’d fully emerged from the darkness.

Theron and his warriors began losing ground almost immediately, even with the paladins’ divine magic dispelling beasts left and right. He kept them at bay with his spear, grateful that even the ones with prodigious reach could not match his own. Step by step, they were driving his line back towards the Dragon’s Spine. If they were caught there, they would be overwhelmed from all sides. But if they retreated to the Colonnades where the natural terrain would bottleneck the enemy? They could gain the advantage without fear of being flanked.

“Retreat to the Colonnades!” Theron commanded, his voice booming across the battlefield. He signalled for his airborne archers to lay down cover as they retreated.

His warriors reformed at the narrowest chokepoint on the southern half of the Colonnades, and when the next wave came, they were ready for them. His spearmen gouged the monstrosities with every thrust, killing them with ease. Behind them, the paladins cast their magic, streamers of light like whips, dispelling individual monstrosities with a touch. The tide of battle had turned.

Theron held his position at the front, battle fervour singing through his limbs. Whenever he tired, he used his wild magic to bolster himself. As the shadows lengthened, the monstrosities thinned. In his confidence, Theron pushed forward into an empty pocket.

And immediately regretted it.

The shadows burst up underneath him like a geyser, throwing him back. He caught himself in time to see a field of massive, claw-tipped hands rising up from the shadows. One hand reached out before he could stab it with his spear, capturing him in a punishing grip. Theron healed himself as fast as the monstrosity broke him. It shrieked as its corrupted body met the divine magic in his armour, and yet unlike the others before, it remained intact long enough to throw him. Airborne, Theron sailed over the battle formation of his warriors. The landing stunned him, breaking bone after bone, his breath leaving him in a painful gush. When his head stopped spinning, he called on his magic to get him back on his feet and clear his mind.

“Keep formation!” he called before his warriors thought to do something as foolish as see to his welfare.

Spitting blood from his mouth, Theron jogged to grab his spear and shield. He would teach that especially foul beast just who it was fucking with. He’d almost made it back to his warriors when he heard the shriek of monstrosities. They were close. Too close. Blood turned to ice in his veins.

Theron was surrounded.

His foe had followed him, slithering through the shadows under the Colonnades and breaking over the edges of the pass like a wave. His soldiers were now split, half facing the advancing monstrosities from the mountains, the rest turned around to fight the ones forming at their backs. The archers above him peppered the monstrosities around him, thinning the line enough for him to retreat. But that retreat brought him closer to the Viridian side of the Colonnades, where the Viridian soldiers and paladins hadn’t managed to bottleneck the beasts and were being slaughtered wholesale.

Was this where he died? Cut off from his soldiers, a lone spearman could only do so much. But not everyone could heal themselves as they were cut to ribbons. Eventually, his soldiers would work their way to him. Theron vowed to hold out until there was nothing in his veins but spite.

“Come at me, you ugly bastards!”

The monstrosities obliged, lunging at him. He managed to keep them at bay until one bubbled up from his shadow and clamped onto his leg with its jagged teeth. It shrieked as it died to the divine magic in his greaves, but the wound remained. Theron sealed his wounds as the next one closed in on him, evading his spear. Its claws dug into his thigh. He bashed it with his shield, dispelling it.

But in the split moment that he lost his braced position, the tide turned. The evil hands were back, dragging him from his feet. The beasts pounced on him then, ripping away his spear and the short sword attached to the belt at his hip. He used his shield to protect his head and chest, but the creatures savaged him. He fought against his own destruction, healing himself again and again, regrowing flayed skin, mending ripped tendons, piecing together shattered bones, replenishing blood. Beasts died moments after they came in contact with his armour, but every bite and blow dented and damaged the metal. Soon, they would tear it from him completely. Then it would be a race to see how fast he could regrow limbs.

Just as the next wave of horrors tore his greaves from his legs, a great light streaked above him, dissolving the monstrosities in an instant. Theron leapt to his feet, dizzy, and turned around. He spotted his spear and raced for it, lest the monstrosities recover. But when he got his bearings again, the monstrosities were mostly gone. In the distance, a young man with an enormous bow made of light aimed an array of arrows at his warriors. They had turned around to face the remaining hoard at the chokepoint. They wouldn’t see their attacker before he skewered their back line.

“No!” Theron screamed.

On instinct, he hurled his spear at the young man, piercing him through the leg just as he let his arrows fly.

The arrows ripped through his people to the monstrosities beyond, obliterating the creatures in the blink of an eye. He expected his people to fall to the magical missiles, but they remained standing, entirely unharmed. The same could not be said for the young man. Pinned and bleeding, teeth gritted in agony, he shot Theron a killing glare. His appearance was unremarkable—brown hair just long enough to be tied back, tanned skin, grey eyes, neither handsome nor ugly.

Behind him, the Viridian general cried out.

“The king of Aureum has attacked the avatar of Justice!”

Fuck .

Theron had long stayed his hand, fearing the wrath of the goddess for striking a high priestess. How much worse would his punishment be for attacking the embodiment of a goddess Herself? He rushed over to the young man, calling up his wild magic, praying he could make this right.

“My sincerest apologies. I thought you meant to attack my men.”

“I gathered that,” the young man growled.

“Will you allow me to assist and heal you?”

“That depends, is your healing magic as good as your aim?”

Theron grabbed the spear’s shaft.

“This won’t hurt.”

“I doubt that.”

Theron cut the threads that carried pain from the young man’s wound, pulling out the spear in one fluid motion. A heartbeat later, he healed the gaping wound, returning sensation the moment the operation was done. Goddess, he hoped he didn’t have more people to heal. Once the battle fervour faded, he was going to sleep for days.

The young man stood, shocked that he could do so. He held out his hand.

“Hyllus of Niveum, Avatar of Justice.”

“King Theron of Aureum.”

Theron gripped the young man’s forearm in greeting.

“I’d heard of your magic, but never thought to experience it myself,” Hyllus said.

“Likewise. Though I am sorry it was necessary.”

“As am I.”

“I don’t suppose you could ask your goddess not to curse the next twenty generations of my bloodline?” he asked, wondering when the divine punishment would happen.

“I’ll see what I can do.” Hyllus’ smile faded as fast as it appeared. “Though the Viridians might prove to be a more immediate threat.” He nodded at the bloodied general confidently striding across the boundary that marked Theron’s territory.

Theron squinted. Damn. He recognised the man climbing over the corpses of his men with a fervent light in his eyes.

“Ah, Stentor. The ever-faithful lapdog of an unparalleled bitch,” Theron said, smiling when Hyllus coughed to cover a snort of laughter. “Before he makes a nuisance of himself, I’m curious. Why has an avatar been summoned?”

“Are you ungrateful for my assistance?”

“Not at all. I prefer living, given the option. But I sincerely doubt Justice called upon you for my benefit.”

Had an avatar been summoned to deal with Orithyia? If he had, Theron would pray at Justice’s temple every day for the rest of his life.

“All I know is that there is a great evil in Trisia and I’ve been called upon to end it.”

Typical divine omen drivel. Open to interpretation by any with an ounce of an agenda. Orithyia would take every opportunity to point her shrivelled finger at Theron. Which was why he needed to be the first to point the young man elsewhere.

“Be careful who you trust, Hyllus. Every ambitious cur in Trisia will happily point you at their foes.”

“Present company excluded, of course?” Hyllus grinned.

Theron laughed. Hyllus was too good-natured to survive court politics for long. He hoped whoever, or whatever, he’d been called upon to destroy was blindingly obvious. Else Theron would soon find himself declared a public enemy, should Orithyia get her claws into the young man.

“No. Present company very much included. All I ask is that you keep an open mind, and pray for good judgement.”

“Only a good man would give such advice, Your Majesty.”

“I am a good king, not a good man. And a man can be only one, for the crown either grinds good men to dust or leads them to an early grave. Only kings who discard their hearts get to keep their heads.”

“I shall keep that in mind.”

Stentor strode over to them, a gleam in his bright eyes. He was certain he’d found wounded prey, and would do all in his power to ensure he retrieved his master’s prize.

“Do you deny it, King Theron? Do you deny that you attacked the avatar of Justice?”

Just as Theron was about to tell the general that he had stepped into Aureum’s territory and invite him to go fuck himself, the world went dark. Theron blinked. The unending darkness remained. There was no sound here, no hint of anything living. He turned around, but there was nothing in every direction. An abyss. He called out, only to find he had no voice. Panic growing, he tried to walk from his current position, but his feet were stuck fast. Was this Justice’s punishment? Would he be trapped in this realm full of nothing for all eternity?

Between one ragged breath and the next, light returned. Screams rang in his ears. Pain exploded all across his body. Blood coated his hands. Hands that gripped his spear. Beneath him, the Viridian general with eyes wide stared up at him in terror, the spear tip a hairsbreadth from his face, the bloodied, broken bodies of Viridian soldiers at his sides.

“King Theron! Please, come back to your senses!”

He raised his head. Hyllus stood before him, terror in his boyish features, the tip of a sword pointed at his neck. One wrong move, and Theron would be dead.

“Don’t make me kill you, Your Majesty!”

Theron raised his hands, stumbling back from the gruesome slaughter. A sense of bone-deep wrongness muddied his thoughts. Stentor scrambled to his feet, face white as a sheet. What had happened?

“King Theron!” his soldiers called from behind.

They stood on his side of the Colonnades, eyes wide with horror. But that meant…

“King Theron, you have slaughtered Viridian soldiers on Viridian soil.”

Beyond the slaughter, a man in Nivean armour, with grey streaking his black hair, surveyed the scene with disappointment. Was that King Enalos riding atop a loper? What was he doing here? No, worse, he’d seen Theron cross into Viridian territory and commit a crime that could mean war.

“It seems I have,” Theron replied, aghast.

Monarchs were sworn to guard their realms and not to trespass on the realms of others unless invited—or urged to by the tangible gods that bestowed their authority on them. His sense of rightness, of belonging, had been torn away the moment he’d stepped across the border in a state of cursed madness. He was without the anchor of Aureum’s innate magics.

Agony radiated up from his palm. On the back of his hand, a glittering, diamond-like mark appeared. The mark of Justice’s displeasure—of his divine punishment.

Had that abyss and ensuing madness been Justice’s wrath? Her punishment? If so, it was fitting. For now he would have to slaughter all of the witnesses in order to return home. He looked back to his warriors. They were willing to fight to the death for him, but not court a goddess’ wrath, for Hyllus would also need to be slain. Under the laws that governed Trisia, he would have to plead for peace…to Queen Flora. He would also need to be cleansed by a high priestess, and the only one where he was about to be sent was that bitch Orithyia.

“By the laws of Trisia, you must travel to the Viridian capital to make restitution, or declare that you have begun a war unprovoked,” King Enalos sighed.

Only a few Viridian soldiers remained, all eyeing him like he’d become a monstrosity. Perhaps he had.

“Put the Aurean king in chains!” Stentor ordered. “We bring the monstrosity-cursed blasphemer to the capital!”

There was no fighting his way out of this. No scheming that could save him. Unless he wished to stain his own honour, to become an outlaw king, he had no choice but to submit to his most rapacious enemies. Justice had seen him punished. He would never reclaim his throne until he was purified. He wouldn’t even have the chance if Flora simply killed him before that. Theron only prayed Justice’s anger was satisfied.

Theron allowed the Viridian dogs to bind his arms.

“I’m sorry, old friend,” Enalos said.

Theron shook his head. The fault was his. But if his fate was to be made into Queen Flora’s plaything, then he would not go meekly. He stood as tall as his binding allowed and turned to his soldiers.

“Send word to my cousin that I courted Justice’s wrath and paid the price, and that if I do not return, she will become Queen of Aureum. Let my will be witnessed by King Enalos of Niveum.” Theron turned to Enalos, raising his chin.

Enalos smiled, stroking a salt-and-pepper beard.

“I, King Enalos of Niveum, hereby witness King Theron’s will. May the Triad have mercy on you.”

With that, he was dragged off to the only cart that remained intact after the attack and shoved inside. Whether his captors would kill him before he reached Boreas was anyone’s guess.