Story:Kings of Strife/Part 43

Part Forty-Three
The only people who survived the Feast of Men were on Vainia’s skiff as it fled from the rocks of Grainis. Constantus Veit, Tlerius Rin, Tasshon el Divrus, Asearya Jyukyu, and Nolstuvainia Sestrum – the only survivors.

The small vessel was just large enough to hold Vainia’s personal items and to slip out of Mortisian waters without detection, and the three able bodied men on the ship were all that was needed to make sure there was a constant lookout and a rower. The lookout stood watch over the skies to make sure the small ship was safe as it sailed north, always north, towards Shorica. Vainia was a lookout herself, endlessly watching backwards, staring at where they were coming from.

There was no way to wash any of their clothes, so both Asearya and Tlerius had deep red blood stains over where they had been wounded. Asearya in her stomach and Tlerius in his shoulder. Both of them had received medical attention, the best that they could give themselves, and they would both live. Vainia had blood all over her clothes, but it did not come from her wounds. If anything, she felt weighed down and wet, always wet, dripping with the lifeblood of every other Mortisian.

Fire billowed from Grainis even as the sun rose. Airships from Inusia darted back and forth over the palace and the surrounding nation, letting loose demonic eggs that split into hellfire. Vainia could hear the screams, at first, of the citizens in Grainis, as they burned. She swore she could hear them crying out – or maybe that was the whispers in her head, the same ones that empowered her hands and recited the runic incantations. No, she had to remind herself; that was not a disembodied voice. That was her.

Vainia knew that she was the one who killed Mortis.

At first she cried, occasionally moaning in agony that matched Asearya’s, but the princess went silent after she lost sight of the city and its flames. ‘I am a queen now, truly,’ she told herself numbly. ‘No longer a princess. My parents have died. The throne is mine by right. Even Magnus and Grandmother are dead.’ She was Queen of Ashes, without a kingdom or a throne to sit upon. Flames. Hell. She was fleeing from the hell of death to the hell of a fragmented life. It reminded her of a book she read, long ago in the halls of the palace library: “Which way I fly is hell; I myself am hell; And in the lowest deep a lower deep, Still threat’ning to devour me, opens wide…”

‘I am the Queen of Ashes, and my throne is an endless pit of hellfire.’

She did not speak for the entire three days that it took for her ship to arrive at the coast of Shorica. The entire vessel was hushed, shocked by the events they had all lived through, so much so that none of them bothered to ask how Veit had arrived or how he had saved them all. There was small talk, but none of the others dared to glance at their leader, let alone speak to her. Vainia was glad they respected her enough to do so.

When they arrived on the sandy beach of Shorica, dawn was just beginning to show on the east, but the stars were still visible in the sky. There was no castle or city visible in the horizon, anywhere, and the land ahead stretched to both sides. After helping unload the boat and its passengers, Veit away from the sun and scowled. “It will be safer for us to walk to Shorekeep. We aren’t very far off from it.” Vainia started to walk to the west without a word, and her followers hesitantly followed with the same broken silence.

“It won’t be long before the Inusians start to attack Shorica,” Tasshon eventually said. It was on everyone’s mind, except for Asearya, who was hovering in and out of consciousness. Veit had her on his back, moving effortlessly despite her weight.

“We’ve got to get back to the city before then,” Tlerius stated. Of all the survivors besides Veit, he was taking the Feast with the least lamentation, although he had long since shed his silver cloak. It had been drenched in blood. “The army has to be raised. Whatever’s left of it, that is.”

They had left Shorekeep with seven ships and three thousand soldiers, which was all of Shorica’s naval power and a good fraction of its most elite infantry. They were returning with only five survivors. The militia was down a large number of leaders, and their aerial strength was completely depleted. The only possible option was an advance on land, right through Inusia’s borders. To do so would be suicide.

Thoughts of strategy and war left a new distaste in Vainia’s mouth. It tasted oily, like copper, like blood. There was something she could do, of course; there were many possible plans, and alliances she could still work out, even if her idea of taking Mortisian men had failed. Even if everything she had tried so far had failed.

What was the point, anymore? Idly Vainia thought if this was a good time to stop. The world likely thought she had died in Grainis along with her men and her family. It wouldn’t take long for news to spread, especially considering Inusia would likely perpetuate the information happily. She was dead to the world. When else would she receive a chance to escape, abscond, and take off the crown? It was so heavy, weighing on her forehead eternally, and the blood of thousands was beginning to soak beneath her skin. She wanted to be free of it all, away from the pain and the death and the mistakes.

Asearya finally spoke when a patch of forest became visible on the distant horizon. She stirred and turned to Vainia, opening her tear-encrusted eyes with clear pain. “Lady Vainia, are you unhurt?”

The pained voice of her loyal servant sent shivers down the queen’s spine. This was the first time anyone had spoken to her since the Feast – everyone glanced back at her, yet Vainia kept her eyes forward to the sunrise. “I am unharmed,” she replied to Asearya with an equally shaking voice. “Thanks only to your devotion and strength, my maid. I cannot thank you enough.” She started to shake.

Despite her pain, Asearya smiled with her eyes closed. “I require no such thanks, Lady Vainia. I would die for my queen. It is enough that you are unharmed.”

‘Your queen?’ Vainia thought. ‘I am not your queen. Not while you still live. I rule only over corpses.’ None of this nihilism escaped when she spoke, only hard sorrow like a storm of snow. “No… No. You won’t die. I forbid it.” She started to walk faster, so that her back was to everyone. Tears started to pool in her eyes and the queen’s voice tremored. “None of you will die for me. That’s an order. I forbid it…” She sniffed, and the tears fell freely. Her arms were crossed against her chest tightly, but still she visibly shook. The tears of the dead thousands drifted down her face and disappeared into the light mist of the morning. “No more deaths. Please…”

No one responded. Veit held Asearya, Tasshon held the bag with the Crystal within it, and Tlerius held three bags of miscellaneous belongings, but even if their hands were full, none of the others would have dared to touch Vainia. None of them knew what to say, so they stayed silent and allowed their queen to weep. It hurt them all.

So they continued to silently walk through the quiet Shorican landscape. Already, miles and miles away from the burning Mortisian shore, the air was different. Where Mortis held rocks and hostile heat, Shorica boasted gentle sand and salty breezes. Forests greeted them from behind the beaches and fertile hills lie just beyond that.

Hours later, when the sun was high in the sky, the forest began to gift the party with enemies.

They wore blue cloaks, and were in a squad of five. Veit noticed them first, and thought of ordering all of the group to hide until he realized that they were in the plains right off the beach. There was nowhere to hide or run. So he turned to Tlerius and started to hand Asearya’s body to the leader of the Eternal Corps.

“No,” Vainia commanded, and she walked past Tasshon, who had stood in front of his queen as soon as he noticed the enemies. By now her face was stone and her eyes even harder.

“Lady Vainia, what are you doing?!” Tasshon stepped forward to grab onto his queen’s arm, but she looked back at him with such ferocity that he froze.

“I said no. I will handle them.” She turned back around and started to calmly walk towards the Inusians.

The bluecoats met up to her within a few paces and the leader of them unsheathed his sword. He pointed the blade at Vainia, halting her from coming forward, and looked over the three men behind her that were glaring daggers. “Identify yourself, woman,” the leader of the Inusians said. He had unruly blond hair and careless stone gray eyes.

“This is Shorica,” the queen replied calmly, her hands open at her sides. “What are Inusian men doing here?”

The leader finally shifted his gaze over to Vainia with a sneer. “Who the hell do you think you are? I said identify yourself.” He raised the tip of his blade to touch beneath Vainia’s chin and took a step closer, pointing the cold metal to her throat. She didn’t flinch. He looked her over and noticed the faded blood all over her ruined dress. “Who are you people? Where did you come from?”

Vainia looked up at the man with a glare, and the tips of her fingers started to glow with power. “A singular squad in the woods of Shorica. Scouts, are you?” After this sentence, she continued to move her mouth slightly, but she spoke no more to the men in front of her.

The Inusian men started to advance upon her, and Tasshon started towards Vainia, who was now surrounded, but neither party made a move before the queen did. She raised an open hand towards the man holding a sword to her neck, and from her fingertips a small red circle of runic symbols emerged from thin air. Instantly, this circle shot out a small bolt of energy right to the bluecoat’s heart, and he instantly froze as his body fell backwards. Vainia stepped backwards, tracing a symbol into the air with her red-glowing right hand as she grabbed the sword from the dead man with her left.

Two of the men started towards her with cries of anger, one man simply pulled his sword out in fear, and the other ran to his fallen blond leader with surprise. As soon as the two pursuers stepped forward, the circle Vainia drew on the ground began to glow with red light and grew instantly in size; once they both stepped forth into this circle, long swords made of matching red symbols and energy protruded from the ground, piercing into their bodies and staining their blue uniform with red, red, red.

Next she looked up to the man faltering towards her with wide, fearful eyes and a sword extended in his hand. Vainia began to mutter another incantation as her grip tightened on the blade in her hands. The sword quickly cut into her skin and her blood began to fall down the metal, but after a moment she tossed the blade into the air. Her fingers shone with silver light that hid the blood on her hands, and next a string of silver runic chains burst into existence from her grip and coiled around the sword. She flicked her hand to the side, using the chains to extend the reach of the blade. The Inusian soldier, confused and scared, attempted to cut through the chains, but his sword went through them as if they were mist. The chains, unhindered, caused the sword to wrap around him from the back like a deadly snake biting its prey from behind. Inusian steel met Inusian flesh, and the fourth soldier fell to the ground with his leader’s sword embedded in his neck. The final soldier screamed and fled back into the forest.

The threat was averted. Vainia lowered her arms and the glow from her fingers dissipated; her face was still hard as stone, and her green eyes even harder. Behind her, her three warriors walked up to her with shock, all of them at a loss for words. Even Veit, who knew of Vainia’s powers, had never seen her use them so viciously and without mercy.

The bloody queen looked down at the men she had slaughtered within seconds without any emotion. Her hand stung, and for the first time she realized it hurt. “I have done it again,” she said. “But now they are perfected.”

“The Inusians are already breaching territory,” Veit muttered, “but it looks like they won’t be able to make it very far in.” He shook his head. “I couldn’t have done that any better myself if I tried.”

“What… What was that? Lady Vainia, how…” Tasshon could not vocalize his concerns, and Tlerius was stunned into silence. His eyes were wide like saucers, his mouth clamped shut tight enough to bring his cheekbones to a visible bulge.

Vainia only turned to her Baron of War and held out her bloody hand. “I will hold that Crystal now,” she said before taking it. She held it in the crook of her arm and started wordlessly back for the west. ‘I am the Queen of Ashes,’ she thought to herself as the blood began to cake on her stinging hand. ‘Ashes and corpses.’

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