The Goddess was only amused, however, and responded to the girl’s accusation. “But that’s just it, I did not ‘take’ them anywhere. Talan was trespassing within my domain, and Raine, well you just saw Raine. She entered my realm of her own free will.”
Skye still struggled wildly, now sobbing with grief and rage. The Goddess was merciless in her indifference.
“Oh, and by the way, I lied.” She smiled to herself, and it was not pleasant to see. “I wanted them both.”
Skye collapsed to the ground, her shoulders heaving. No one else moved, too stunned to react. Hel turned and lifted her scepter to the Horde behind her, and to the shock of all present, the Hyr’rok’kin army wavered, shifted about, then turned on its heel. The flying Hyr’rok’kin winged around, the Reapers swayed back-and-forth, then winked away, the catapults were slowly wheeled about, the Marrow Shards changed their course, and as one, the enormous force began trudging back the way it came. Even the dragons took flight and headed north, away from the battlefield.
Hel’s voice rang out across the remaining army. “People of Arianthem, heed my words. Go back to your lands, return to your families. The Empty Land is forbidden to you. Stay on this side of the desert, and you will never see the Hyr’rok’kin again. Disobey me, and I will unleash annihilation upon you.” She raised her scepter. “Obey my words, and I will trouble you no more!”
She turned, dismissing them with her final, mocking words.
“I have what I came for.”
Chapter 15
I
t was a stunned group that gathered in the imperial city. True to Hel’s words, the Hyr’rok’kin marched back across the desert, disappearing into a shimmering haze of dust. The army of allies had little reason to remain; the battle was over before it had begun. No one had any idea how to proceed. The commanders of the respective armies sent their troops on a slow march in the direction of home, and the leaders agreed to meet in the closest of ruling cities, the imperial capital.
And so it was a distinguished group that gathered in the Grand Hall of the imperial castle. Although not as stately as that in the Ha’kan palace, the room was royal, imposing, perhaps even a trace ostentatious. The painted visages of those who had previously sat on the imperial throne stared down at them. The empire did not have the lengthy history of the other races, but everything they had was thrown together in this room.
The room was not laid out as communally as the Ha’kan hall, either, and an unfortunate status was imposed upon the seating arrangements. Therefore, most chose to stand rather than sit in some disadvantageous position. Almost everyone milled about, hostage to the disjointed grief and shock which still pervaded their minds and mood. The Queen of the Ha’kan stood surrounded by the Royal Staff. The Imperial Knight Commanders flanked the Emperor, staring at the floor in front of them. Maeva stood with her assistants and Alfar military leaders. A group of very surly dwarves, all still heavily armored, stood off in the corner. Drakar stood leaning against the wall, brooding, his dark eyes filled with pain and anger.
But perhaps the greatest pain was centered in the room where Idonea stood, surrounded by Feyden, Lorifal, Dagna, and Elyara. Skye sat a short distance away, her head buried in her hands. Dallan hovered near her, still struggling with her own heartache, and anguished over her inability to console Skye. There were quiet murmurs of conversation, fits and starts as someone appeared just about to say something, then the room settled into quiet confusion once more. Finally, Skye could bear it no longer.
“I’m going after her,” she announced, getting to her feet. “I don’t care if I have to go by myself. Raine is still alive. I can feel her. And I’m going to find her.”
The pronouncement was outlandish, ridiculous, but it served to cut through the fog that had settled on the group. Feyden spoke up, and at first, it seemed he was going to chastise her.
“That’s probably not wise,” he said. His tone changed. “If you go, you’re going to need a guide, probably someone who’s been there before.” He glanced to his comrades, and Lorifal stepped forward, shifting his great axe.
“Aye lass, you’re not going without us.”
Skye looked to the heroes, and they all nodded as one. Her spirits started to lift, but then Queen Halla spoke.
“Skye, you are sworn to service of the Ha’kan.”
The Queen sounded very stern and disapproving and Dallan clenched her jaw. A meaningful glance passed between the Queen and her First General.
“That’s right,” Senta said, stepping forward. “So if you go, the Ha’kan must go with you.”
Skye’s heart swelled with gratitude, and Dallan’s with pride.
“Feyden,” Maeva said sharply, “you are my brother and my Second.”
Feyden waited for his sister to give the order he feared he would have to disobey. But she, too, surprised him.
“So where you go, the Alfar will follow. Even to the Gates of the Underworld.”
The elven soldiers flanking Maeva struck their spears to their shields, an emphatic salute of agreement. The dwarves also raised their axes, indicating they would follow as well. To the Emperor, this was all spinning wildly out of control.
“What are you talking about?” he demanded, his voice shrill. “Are you insane?”
All eyes turned to him as he rose from his seat at the head of the table. “You heard the Goddess, she will destroy us all!”
“And what would you have us do,” Feyden shot back, “abandon Talan and Raine, those who have sacrificed everything for this land?”
“I would,” the Emperor declared, striking his fist on the table. “They have made the ultimate sacrifice. The Hyr’rok’kin have left our lands, the world can live in peace. It’s a small price to pay for our safety. I will not endanger the lives of my people.”
“You signed a treaty,” Maeva reminded him. “You would abandon the Alliance?”
“What Alliance?” the Emperor said, “The Alliance is no longer needed, the war is over!”
“You have no honor,” Maeva said, fairly spitting the words at him.
“Then we will go ourselves,” Queen Halla declared, “with or without imperial support.”
“Then you will bring disaster down upon us all,” the Emperor replied, “and I won’t allow that. The only entrance to the Underworld is through the Empty Land, and the Empty Land is bordered on all sides by imperial territory.”
The Queen was astonished, not only that this man would refuse to help, but that he might try to prevent them from taking action.
“You would forbid us passage into the Empty Land?”
“I would,” the Emperor said firmly, “In fact, I would consider it an act of war if any nation passes through imperial territory to access the Empty Land.”
Maeva was as incredulous as the Ha’kan Queen. “You would engage us in war at a time when we should all be fighting together?”
“Yes! Yes! I would! The Hyr’rok’kin are gone, and I would rather fight you than them!”
“That is a decision you may regret,” Senta said coldly.
Nerthus and Bristol looked to one another. This was all falling apart because of the decisions of one man. They had both become soldiers while young, had lived their entire lives sworn to the duty of the Emperor, were bound by honor, tradition, and fealty to the empire, yet now they were faced with the most treasonous decision of their careers. They looked to one another, simply to decide which of them would make the move.
And were saved from doing so.
“You are as much a coward as your grandfather.”
All eyes turned to the young woman who strolled through the double doors of the hall. She was slender, pale, lovely, and possessed an air of steel about her at odds with her waif-like appearance. Her carriage was noble, graceful, and her eyes glowed with a preternatural anger. She looked strangely familiar to Maeva.
“What is the meaning of this outrage?” the Emperor demanded. “What business do you have here?”
“I am here to return the imperial throne to its rightful ruler.”
“What?” the Emperor sputtered, fairly shaking with indignation. “And who in the world would that be?”
“Me,” the young woman said calmly.
“Aesa.”
The murmured name and recognition came from the lips of the elven leader. The Emperor’s eyes drifted upwards to the likeness of his grandmother on the wall. The resemblance was striking, identical save for the dress. He dismissed the eerie similarity.
“That’s impossible,” he said, “my grandmother disappeared right after my father’s birth, presumed murdered.”
“Ah yes,” Aesa said, casually moving through the rapt audience. “That was to be my fate. Slain by the assassin my husband sent to kill me.”
“What?” the Emperor said shrilly. “How dare you make such an accusation!”
The Emperor’s most-trusted advisor, for once shadowing someone other than him, stepped from Aesa’s wake.
“She dares because it’s all quite true. The contract is right here.” And with that, the dark-robed figure unrolled an ancient scroll that looked terrifyingly official. The Emperor stared at the document as if it might bite him. “And that’s my name,” she pointed to the bottom, “right there.”
And the Emperor stared at the one he thought was Mal’rona, his advisor, his seer, his confidante. “And why is your name on there?”
“Because I was the assassin sent to kill her,” the Head of the Shadow Guild said. She gave the empress a sexually-charged once over. “And I did, sort of.”
“You are a vampyre,” Queen Halla said slowly.
“Yes,” Aesa said, as if just coming to grips with that fact herself. “I am. But I don’t believe there are any statutes that deny the throne based on vampyrism. Knight Commanders?”
Nerthus and Bristol again looked at one another.
“I don’t believe there is anything in imperial law,” Bristol said uncertainly, “disqualifying the undead from sitting on the throne.”
“Good,” Aesa said, “then remove that man.”
Nerthus hesitated only a second, then directed her nearest soldiers to take custody of the Emperor.
“What are you doing? This is an outrage! I’ll have you all beheaded…”
His voice trailed off as the former Emperor was dragged from the room. Aesa smoothed her skirts.
“Now, that little bit of unpleasantness is over. I reinstate all treaties with all peoples of the Alliance. The empire will honor its obligations to its allies.” The empress grew quiet, even reflective. “I owe much to Raine.”
Queen Halla was reminded of the recent conversation with Raine, where she had asked Halla if she remembered Aesa and spoke of a treasure dating from the dynasty of the House of Farlein. It was a wonder all of the people that warrior had touched.
Aesa composed herself. “The path to the Empty Land is open, and the empire will cross that barren landscape with its allies!”
A great cheer went up in the room, and although little had been accomplished, it felt as if much had been done. There was a voice of reason to dowse a little cold water on that impression, a very ancient voice.
“Brave words from brave people,” Y’arren said, “but how will you do this thing?”
The tiny, wizened matriarch was helped into the room by two robed acolytes, both wood elves. The old elf slowly made her way through the throng, supporting herself on her staff, and approached Skye. She stopped before her.
“Isleif told me to tell you goodbye. Your great-grandfather was very proud of you.”
Skye felt a catch in her throat. She had successfully suppressed her grief through her bold call to action, as unreasonable as that call might have been. She did not want her grief to well up again.
“Why?” she asked, tears in her eyes. “Why did this happen? Couldn’t Isleif see the future? Couldn’t he have prevented this?”
“The future is never clear,” Y’arren cautioned. “And even if he could see it, fate is very difficult to change. But his insight was very great, which is why he left you a gift. The one thing that you need the most right now.”
Skye could think of many things that she needed; the list was endless. But what would her great-grandfather send to her? What would he anticipate she would need more than anything right now?
“What kind of gift?” Skye asked.
The ancient matriarch of the wood elves smiled, her eyes glowing with all the magic of the natural world.
“A plan.”
Epilogue
T
hat Scinterian had put up an incredible fight.
Hel looked down at the unconscious figure on the altar. The arms and legs were covered in blood and bruises. The armor was nearly ripped from her body, a fact that the Goddess appreciated because she could now see those beautiful muscles. She traced the bruises on the ribs, then the outlines of the abdominal muscles. Her fingers drifted down the armor to the opening on the thigh, then caressed the calf. She moved slowly around the foot of the altar, examining her captive, then began tracing the body up the other side. The muscled forearms were a wonder, the biceps so firm and round under such soft skin, the muscles robust even in unconsciousness.
Hel’s gaze settled on the face, largely untouched even though the warrior had battled a legion of demons. There was a bruise on her temple, one the Goddess felt compelled to lean down and press her lips to. The features were chiseled, a strong chin, a straight, aristocratic nose, slightly full lips with a defined philtrum and small cupid’s bow. Hel traced the lips with her fingertips.
Feray, her chief handmaiden, stood behind the Goddess as Hel continued her inspection of her prize. The handmaiden appeared older than Hel, wore similar but less elaborate robes, and bore a resemblance to the Goddess as all her handmaidens did: dark hair, dark eyes, lovely, but not as lovely as the Goddess herself. Faen, Hel’s chief familiar, also hovered behind her, but while Feray waited patiently submissive, the demon hopped from side-to-side, something that would have irritated the Goddess had she not been so engrossed in her examination of her helpless prisoner. Each waited for their command.
“Feray,” Hel said absently, “I give this one over to your charge.”
Feray bowed as Faen grimaced his disappointment. He scuttled away.
“Of course, your Majesty. We will bathe and tend to her wounds.”