Queen Yavara: Chapter 59
She reached into her pocket, and presented me with my blow-dart. "Make me a promise, Dad."
I closed her hand around the weapon, and shook my head.
"I made you a promise!" she hissed.
"I’m a notorious hypocrite. Tiffany, she’s not worth it."
"What is worth it then?" Tiffany asked, and dropped the blow-dart at my feet. She didn’t even look back. She ran down the risers, crushed dozens of men in her way, and she charged headlong into the backs of the mages. I groaned, picked up the blow-dart, and charged after her.
We butchered our way through scores of men on our way to the mages, and though the marines posed no threat to my flesh, their swords cut right through my clothing. I could feel the sun against me in a dozen different places, and the thick coats of sunscreen I’d put on did little to stop the burning. The cuts seared across my back, smoking and sizzling, agonizing. The winter sun beat against my black-clad form, creating an oven within my leather bodysuit. Panic began to creep into my mind, the primal alarm bells ringing through every synapse, urging me to find cover.
Tiffany was a whirlwind of death, slaughtering at such speed that a mist of red formed around her as she decimated the mage’s line. But I knew she wouldn’t make it. All it would take was one mage to cast a spell, and twenty of them had already turned their attention from the crippled former Dark Queen, to the vampire tornado decimating their brethren. They moved in slow-motion compared to her, but it wasn’t slow enough. As her whirling claws and feet burst through robed bodies, the twenty mages at the end of the line sequentially raised their arms.
"Goddamn it, Tiffany," I muttered as I drew the blow-dart, "why did you make me do this?"
I pressed my lips to the end of it, and blew. The Nadi wood dart shot through the pipe, and into my wrist. I felt the poison immediately, cold and liquid in my veins, numbing me where ever it spread. Not much time now. I leapt from the risers, raised my arms to my sides, and smashed into the backs of the Lowlanders. It was a brutish maneuver, and it galled me terribly that my last act of killing would be so ungraceful, but my motor functions were already shot. I simply flattened the mages I landed on, then used my forearms as blunt clubs to awkwardly smash-in the heads of four more of the bastards. I got eleven of them before the other nine turned their attention from Tiffany, and I got six more before they managed to set their eyes on me. Then, I got the last five. I killed them all without even taking a scratch. The last threat fell beneath my feet, and I came crashing to my knees a second later.
Tiffany rushed to my side; her red eyes wide. "Father!"
My tongue was so numb that I couldn’t form the words back to her, but it didn’t matter anyway, because there were no words I could say that would break the vomit of laughter coming from my mouth. I howled with it, succumbing in my last moments to the funniest joke I’d ever been party to.
Father? Tiffany whispered in my mind as she cradled my head in her arms.
I always knew my death would be terribly ironic. I smiled at her, though I could only guess where her face was. I’d gone blind. Tiffany, be a dearest and make sure my corpse stays pretty. I expect a grand funeral.
Of course, she sniffled. You’ll say hi to Ivanka for me?
I already had my afterlife, Tiffany, and it was beautiful. I felt my heart stop. Tiffany, listen to me. Don’t you ever…
ZANDER
I soared over the battlefield in my eagle form, catching the updrafts created by the great fires below me. From my vantage point, I could see the battle unfold. The scant remains of Soraya and Brianna’s combined battlegroups were retreating from the arena sands to the northern gate, where Faltia’s depleted battlegroup held a tenuous line against the pressing Lowland marines. The arena had been given completely to the Lowlanders, who also held most of the pavilion. Behind Faltia’s line, Furia’s goblins and Certiok’s support troops were spilling in from the mouths of the northern streets. There were so few of them. I could only make out the shapes of a few dozen goblins skirting the rooftops, and perhaps five-hundred orcs emerging from the smoke-filled boulevards. We had begun this battle outnumbering the Lowlanders nearly two to one. Since then, we’d dealt such great damage to their marines that we’d halved their force of twenty-thousand, but they had dealt such catastrophic damage to our civilian force that they’d flipped the numerical odds in their favor.
We were going to lose. It was inevitable. There were no fallback positions from the pavilion, for the streets leading to the castle were choked with rubble. There were no reserves, for the entire brunt of the Alkandran civilian force now fought in the pavilion, and only the children remained in the castle. Hundreds of enemy mages still lived, and I could not slay them all. I was so weak already. The cancer devoured me from the inside, hollowing me, killing me slowly and purposefully so that I was aware of each failure of my functions. I couldn’t smell anymore, nor taste anything but the acrid flavor of bile. Even in my eagle form, my eyesight was getting worse by the second. My body was wracked with chills, and my back ached with pain. But I could still kill. I swooped down with a great avian screech, and transformed once more.
I was a ten-foot grizzly bear. Not ten feet standing up, but ten feet from paw to shoulder. I’d always wanted to ride a bear into battle, but it occurred to me halfway down to the fight that being the bear sounded way more fun. I let out a great roar, and pounded headlong through the ranks of Faltia’s soldiers, and into the heart of the enemy.
I had seen spectacular things in my life. I’d seen meteors rain from a twilight sky and ignite the horizon. I’d seen creatures so rare and beautiful that it was like God had crafted them with her own hands. I’d witnessed volcanoes erupt from the hearts of glaciers, I’d watched the trees of the Great Forest change color in an instant, I’d seen a valkyrie flock battle a dragon atop a snowcapped peak. But none of those things was more beautiful than the looks on the Lowlander’s faces when I burst through their line.
I trampled twenty men, swiped with my great claw, and tore five more men in half. An ambitious young mage woman came screaming at me with disintegration spells flowing from her hands, and they washed over my fur like water. She blinked, looked down at her hands like she wondered if they were working, then she looked back up at me. I swiped down, and drove her head through her shoulders, into her chest, into her belly, and out of her ass. Her head rolled away, and her crumpled body fell in two pieces. I bounded through the Lowland marines, crushing them like cans all the way, making their insides burst from their crumpled metal shells. It looked like I’d stepped on a hundred cans of tomato paste by the time I got through their ranks, and then I was in at the north entrance of the arena, staring at ten very confused mages.
I let out an earth-shaking roar, spraying spittle and flesh from my saber-toothed maw onto the two mages closest to me. Blood trickled out from their burst eardrums, and they stared dumbfounded up at me. I swiped, and drew six-inch gashes through their bellies with my claws. Their insides plopped out, and they pitched forward with a scream. The mages behind them recovered, and quickly formed a perimeter around me. They cast their myriad spells, and I absorbed them easily into my thick hide. I crushed one woman, tore three men apart, shredded another woman into strings, and simply punched through an elderly man. One of the younger men got a lucky laceration spell through my defenses, and I felt the ethereal blade cut deep into my back. I roared, thundered toward him, and was slammed in the side by a great force. I was sent rolling through the ranks of Lowlanders, flattening scores of men before I finally skidded to a stop. I looked up to see thirty robed figures walking toward me.
The lead mage barked a command, all the mages around her stepped in unison, and they launched their attack. The telekinetic blast hit me square in the chest, and sent me backflipping for forty more feet before I landed with a crunch into a platoon of Lowland spearmen. I stood up, plucked the spears and bodies from my belly, and squared my mighty shoulders. The mages formed up, stepped once, and launched the attack again. I braced against it, and the telekinetic wind hit me like an avalanche. I withstood it for a moment, but then I was torn from my feet and sent careening through the expendable Lowland marines, breaking a dozen bodies on my way to a grinding stop. That one hurt. One of my ribs snapped, my left forepaw broke in three places, and my tailbone was shattered. I growled, and got onto precarious footing. The mages closed around me, took one unified step forward, then died in a jet blast of fire.
Yavara Tiadoa limped up the steps of the arena on one leg, supported on her left side by First-Scribe Soraya Poneria, and on her right by Tiffany Titus. The former Dark Queen was darker than she’d ever been, and balder too. She looked like she’d been charred to well-done.
"Zander?" she croaked, her voice sounding like that of a ninety-year-old smoker.
The one and only. I answered telepathically.
She hacked violently, and spit red onto the ground. "Where the fuck is my sister?"
Likely dead by now.
She groaned in response, then whimpered in agony as Tiffany and Soraya lowered her gingerly into a wheelbarrow. She didn’t move at all after that. Her eyes were glassy and distant, and the only motion her body made was the slow rise and fall of her chest that accompanied her rattling breath. Tiffany hovered over the mutilated high-elf like a protective hawk to her chicks, glaring at anyone who got too close.
Tiffany, where’s Drake? I asked.
She didn’t answer me, and that was the only answer I needed. Soraya tidied Yavara’s cloak, then spotted Certiok at the rear of the army, and ran out to meet her. She ignored the battle that surrounded her, and flung her arms around the last friend she had left. I noted solemnly that Furia was not among the goblin archers shooting from the rooftops. Soraya was the last of her kind.
"Zander?" Yavara groaned from her wheelbarrow.
What?
She opened her mouth, then shut it, then opened it again. She couldn’t find the strength to speak anymore. When I next heard her voice, it came from inside my head. Where did I go wrong that it all came to this?
It was never supposed to be your responsibility to bear.
But it was, and I failed. Where did I go wrong? It was that I didn’t attack the Highlands, wasn’t it? I shouldn’t have been so merciful.
I shook my head. Everyone told you to take the Highlands, and you refused. Everyone else was wrong, and you were right.
It doesn’t feel like I was right.
This is the end result of all tyrants, Yavara. This is your sister’s doing, not yours.
Yavara smiled weakly at me. If this is the end result of tyrants, then Alkandra was always doomed, Zander.
I smiled back at her as best as a bear could. I always knew Alkandra was doomed. You were going to make it something different, something beautiful. You were never Alkandi, and your fatal failures came when you tried to be.
And I just thought I was being who I was supposed to be. Life’s a cruel and twisted bitch.
Indeed.
In front of us, the Lowland marines formed a great shield-wall, and their mages solidified it with a combined incantation. The beleaguered beasts used the opportunity to retreat and form up. I knew it was a mistake, but I didn’t have the heart anymore to warn them. What was the point anyway? I looked up at great ships that lined the bay, and saw what I knew I would see. Hundreds of flaming boulders were released at once, followed by thousands of ballistae missiles. We were trapped between the Lowland marines and the demolished streets behind us. A collective swell of panic rose from the ranks of orcs. Some tried to charge the Lowlanders, but they simply bounced off the arcane shield. The rest tried to sprint for the cover of the streets, but the roadways were choked with rubble, and the mass of bodies were dammed before the corridors.
Zander, Yavara whispered in my mind. Her voice was so faint now.
What?
She extended her hand. Even after everything, I’m glad you found me. I’m glad it’s you who’s here with me.
You shouldn’t be.
She smiled brightly, and though her face was blackened and her head was bald and scarred, she was still beautiful somehow. But I am anyway, Zander. It’s good to have a friend.
I took her little hand in my great paw, and gently closed it. Yes, it is.
CERTIOK
The world was energy and inertia. Boulders landed with crushing effect, exploded into a thousand deadly projectiles, then erupted into gouts of flame. Scores of men and women were consumed in an instant, and those around the impacts were torn to shreds. Buildings exploded into bricks, the streets were turned to craters, and the people were turned to meat. The missiles fell like deadly iron rain, flitting black lines through the inferno, spearing everything and everyone to the ground. Though the impacts were thunderous, the screams were even louder, resonating in my skull as I clung to a flagpole for dear life. Soon, I couldn’t hear anything; only a loud whine that became higher and higher until its pitch was like a circular saw burrowing into my head. I couldn’t see anything anymore. Black smoke and dust blinded me, interrupted only by the blasts of fire that revealed for a horrifying instant, the silhouetted figures of the damned. They writhed in pieces upon the ground, their limbs flailing from beneath the rubble like eels in a reef, reaching toward a sky they would never see again. The pounding was relentless, the whistle of missiles was endless, and with every passing second, the number of flailing limbs dwindled. Soon, the boulders were just bouncing rubble. Then it stopped.
All at once, the barrage ceased. The strobed explosions gave way to the subtle glow of fires, and the black veil became a translucent grey haze. I stood there and clung to the pole. I waited. I waited longer. The haze lightened, revealing the space around me. The bodies and rubble were all covered with a thick blanket of dust, obscuring the horror that lay beneath. As my hearing returned to me, I began to catch the low sounds of moaning and weeping. Carefully, I unwrapped my arms from the flagpole. I took one step forward, and then another. My boots landed softly and silently in the snow and dust. As I walked, I past indistinguishable figures that writhed upon the ground. The wounded were just masses of grey now, painted into the landscape of dust. It was only after I’d taken twenty paces, that I found someone standing upright.
Soraya was leaning against the remnants of a wall, staring into the hazy void. I touched her shoulder, and she turned her head slowly to me. She didn’t appear to recognize me at all; she only acknowledged my existence, and then looked back into the greyness. I walked past her, unsure of why I continued my odyssey. Surely, a sane person wouldn’t move from the spot God had deemed a sanctuary from the salvo. Soraya was the rational one.
After thirty more paces, I came upon another figure. This one was traveling from the west, and walking with a debilitating limp. It was only when it came within ten feet of me, that I recognized it as another hybrid. Furia Augustinia was using her sword as a brace for her leg, which was so mangled that it took five different turns before her ankle. I supposed I was glad to see she’d survived her fall. I wasn’t sure if I was capable of feeling emotion at all. We just stared at each other for a moment, then continued on our path. I didn’t know if we were walking together, or simply following the same strange compulsion that guided us toward… where ever it was we were going.
On our way, other figures emerged from the haze. Most were people I didn’t know, but I recognized a few tribal faces amongst them. We walked like ghosts through the dust, lost and unsure, silent and grey. As we walked, I realized numbly that my instincts were guiding me toward the light. The greys painted a monochromatic gradient, and to the south, the gradient was the lightest. It didn’t occur to me that the enemy was likely waiting for us there. Strangely, it didn’t matter. I just needed to find the light.
The world began to clear. The shapes and outlines of Alkandra crystalized before me, becoming great stone columns that had been split, great towers that had been toppled, and immense boulevards that had become chasms. I didn’t know where I was. Though I had likely walked through this place a hundred times, it was foreign to me. The skeletal buildings and structures suddenly vanished on either side of me, and I intuited that I must’ve walked into the pavilion. I looked to the west, and saw the hulking remains of the arena, the magnificent statues now rendered to rock and rebar.
My footfalls no longer padded softly in the snow and dust, but fell upon hard metal. The haze cleared, revealing a forest of iron. Thousands of wrought-iron shafts porcupined the pavilion, so dense that they created makeshift pathways. Between the twelve-foot missile hafts, lay thousands of Lowland dead. They were so numerous that the stones of the pavilion were blanketed with their armored bodies, and so ruined that I could not distinguish one man from another. They were simply indiscernible mounds of burst flesh and shorn metal, all stitched together with the missiles of their own fleet. Within the mass of death, I found a young mage woman still moving. Her arm was badly injured, and her face was mangled on the side, but she was still lucid. I extended her my hand, and helped her to her feet. When the dead so outnumbered the living, survivors were allies.
I journeyed through the iron forest, helping wounded as I came across them and ending the suffering of those too far gone. As I did this, little pieces of myself began to return to me. Fear was the first emotion to resurface. The enormity of death that surrounding me was incalculable, and the odds that I had survived were so miniscule. The danger had passed, and yet the terror only seemed to grow. I began to tremble with it. The fear was followed by a creeping grief. The losses were unfathomable, and so I could not measure the pain I was supposed to feel, but every step brought me deeper into despair until it brought me to my knees. Silent tears ran down my cheeks and splashed upon my quivering hands. The mage tried to help me up, but I would not rise.
Before me was a hulking mass of fur. I thought it was one of the many trolls at first, until I made out the figure of its head. It was a great bear, and it was surrounded on all sides by shattered iron hafts and crumbled boulders. The debris wreathing the figure bespoke a story of great defense, but the dozens of iron poles in his body revealed the end of this tale. Though blood flowed from his great maw, his eyes still shown with the vestiges of life. The great brown orbs focused on me for a moment, then looked distantly toward Castle Alkandra. For a moment, they reflected the gothic citadel, then they closed. An old staff was tied to his left shoulder, but the crowned skull of Alkandi that once adorned it was gone, shattered into a thousand pieces by the missile imbedded in his back. Encased in his great furry arms, and protected by all the damage that had been dealt to him, was the half-burned body of Yavara. She was curled into his body like a fetus, her breaths rattling from her. And though her eyes stared blankly at the sky, there was deep expressiveness in them. Tears cascaded down her cheeks as she held Zander’s paw to her bosom, and muttered his name over and over. When I reached for her, she just curled further into his dead embrace, unwilling to move. I wouldn’t force her.
I turned to the west to see Soraya and Furia embracing desperately and weeping. They must’ve learned they were the last ones. I felt horribly empathetic. The Protaki and the Terdini were gone. Brock and Trenok were gone. I did not know if I would ever see Adrianna again, and the city she had built was in ruins. There was so much lost, and so little left. Where had my future gone? I looked to the east, and saw the tall masts of the man-o-wars. A black Alkandran flag waved from the flagship.
LEVERIA
It had taken Alexandra two minutes to get me beneath the ship, and it had taken me an hour just trying to get aboard it. I couldn’t very-well cut a hole in the hull, and it wasn’t like there was netting I could use to climb. I had to learn how to fly all by myself, all whilst periodically lighting myself on fire to keep the hypothermia at bay. It was a painstaking process fraught with terror. I interpreted every shout and bell that rang out from the ships as a sign that I’d been seen, and I spent ten-minute stretches of paranoia breathing through Alexandra’s mouth underwater. When I regained my nerves, I came to the surface and tried to remember what Yavara had taught me about flying. "It’s not like you’re soaring through the air like an eagle, Leveria. It’s more like you’re swimming through it. You’re pushing yourself up with the mass of air beneath you.
Well, I couldn’t fucking swim, and as I failed again and again at something Yavara had learned easily, I once again remembered all the reasons I hated my overachieving triathlon-champion little fucking sister. I became more and more frustrated with myself as the time ticked on, every precious second clanging in my head like a grandfather clock chiming the final minutes. I batted at the water like my arms were wings, I mimicked swimming like a mermaid, I even tried submerging myself and floating to the top in a vain hope that I’d simply continue floating into the air. Nothing worked. When I was at the very limit of my wits, Alexandra came to my rescue. She secured me in her soft arms, pulled me underwater, and wrapped her pretty little mouth around my brand-new cock. The gills around her neck opened and closed pleasantly as she took me down her throat, and her aqua-green eyes stared comfortingly up at me as she sucked all the anxiety right out of my balls. She grew her tentacular fingers inside of me, and penetrated my ass and pussy with both hands. As her digits squirmed into my pussy, her anally-penetrating tentacles laid their sucking nodes against my prostate, and milked me until I was thrashing in the water, screaming soundless delight into the depths, the bubbles from my mouth floating to the surface above. When my nectar flowed onto her lathering tongue, her gaze grew heavy-lidded and possessed, and she brought me all the way into her mouth so that she could drink me dry.
After that, flying came easily to me. With a clear head and a light heart, I grabbed my baggy, glided to the water’s surface, floated easily into the air, and traversed the side of the flagship. I kept myself concealed behind the bow, then dropped right into the captain’s quarters through the open window. There, sitting by himself, was King Arthur Dreus. A hundred hand mirrors lined the wall before his desk, many of them showing faces of people he was conversing with. Most of the faces were ship captains judging by their uniforms, and Arthur was issuing them orders as he watched the battle unfold from his window.
"Do we have any further reports from our ground troops?" He asked one of the mirrors.
"The enemy has been pushed out of the arena, and is mostly trapped in small pockets within the streets. They should be completely destroyed within the hour."
"And our own losses?"
"Only thirty-three mages are reporting, sir. Of the twenty regiments we sent, all but four are reporting near-total casualties."
"Good god," he grumbled, rubbing his eyes, "a pyrrhic victory indeed, gentlemen. Such a waste. This is why war should always be the last option."
"There’s a lot of questions that need answering," one of the captains grumbled, "like what in the hell happened between the Tiadoa sisters."
"Only the devil knows. Did anyone manage to find Leveria?"
"She dropped out of our mages’ perception once they engaged Yavara. After that, all we saw was Zander’s illusion."
"She made a break for it then." Arthur sighed, "Goddamn it. Yavara was dangerous, but that kind of power in a woman like Leveria…" He shuddered visibly, "We’ll have to cut off all her possible allies. Put a bounty on her head worth a kingdom, and even the Sea Serpents will turn against her. I don’t like working with those rats, but we’ve got to be pragmatic about this. If any Balamora nation dares harbor her, we’ll sanction them into oblivion. We need to make contact with our factors in Bentius as soon as possible. The Great Forest needs to be pacified once and for all. We can’t risk another Dark Queen emerging from the wildlands."
"She’ll have allies within our own borders, Your Highness. Most of the men we’re fighting out there are Ardeni immigrants."
Arthur tapped his chin contemplatively. "I don’t like where this is leading. Ghettos, concentration camps, and kangaroo courts? I won’t let my legacy be that of tyranny." He shook his head, and let out an exasperated sigh. "But I’m getting ahead of myself. Let’s finish this battle before we begin the next. I’ll leave you to it, gentlemen."
"Your Highness," they said in unison, and the mirrors went dark.
"If you’re asking me, I would just round up all possible dissidents and kill them." I said from my corner of the room. Arthur froze. I smiled, and began to walk toward him, "Of course I’d have them tortured first just to make sure. Boil the children in front of the women, rape the women in front of the men, then crucify them all in the town square just to get your message across." I stopped behind the king, and smiled at our reflection in the hundreds of mirrors. "But then again," I sighed, and rested my hands upon Arthur’s shoulders, "I’m just a bit more pragmatic than you are, Arthur."
He quivered beneath my touch, and hissed, "To what do I owe the pleasure, Leveria?"
"Hmm, the pleasure is mine, believe me." I chuckled, and slid my fingers around his neck. "Why don’t you be a doll, and order your ships to massacre your ground troops?"
"Kill me."
"Oh, I’d love to," I purred in his ear, "but you’re too useful a tool to throw away so fragrantly. First, I need you to order your ships to fire about two degrees to the south. That should solve my problem. Secondly, I need your fleet to hang around here for just one more day. I’ve got some Highland guests coming tomorrow, and the party would be really weird if it was just the two of us. Thirdly, I’m going to need you to put a Lowland heir in my belly."
"No, no and fuck no," he growled.
"Those were all the wrong answers, Arthur."
"You can torture me all you want, but I’ll never break, and you’ll never get into my head." He snarled, "Prestira trained me since I was a child!"
"Everyone flaunts Prestira around like she was some kind of goddess." I sighed, "They say she had a mind like a fortress. Funny; I had no trouble penetrating it." I reached into my baggy, and pulled out a syringe filled with purple fluid. "The way into someone’s mind isn’t through their skull, Arthur," I whispered, "the path between their legs is much, much easier." I stuck the needle in Arthur’s neck, and depressed the plunger until the vial was empty.
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