Arrival (29 page)

“Why are you fighting Elendial, Leostrial?” she asked him quietly, pleadingly.

His face softened. “I’m sorry I have not spoken to you of this before, Satine. You deserve to know the answer to that. No doubt the people across the sea believe that I want nothing more than to destroy the entire world and everything in it. Did they ever actually question what motivation anyone would have to do that? I only want to make this world better. I have a wish that, as leader of Paragor, I could do that. I only want this land to prosper and grow, Satine. You must believe me in this.”

Leostrial thought for a moment and then tried to explain more. “Not long ago, Odin came to me with tidings. He said that the gods thought me a threat, and that they were planning to destroy me because I sought too much control over Paragor. They fear their own power being diminished by mine. He alone knew that I planned to harm no one and offered to help me.” He shrugged and a dark look came over his eyes. “If they seek a fight, they will receive one. I shall do whatever it takes.” He paused for a moment, and something different crossed his face. His next words were unsteady, uncertain.

“No one understands me. Even my own people, my own family, everyone closest to me believes that all I want to do is destroy. But they don’t understand that the gods are ... cold, and unloving. We need rulers who will help us to shape this world we live in as a place where people can be happy.”

“But why not save the other countries as well?”

“It is my hope that I will be able to, once this is over. Eventually they will know I am not their enemy.”

“But until then you are happy to fight them in a war?” Satine whispered.

“Force is necessary sometimes, Satine. I will not shy away from that. Without this battle, I would have no access to the gods. Sometimes, if you want something great, you have to be ruthless to attain it. This will all be for the best eventually. Soon this country will be more beautiful than anything you have ever imagined. I will not rest until it is so.”

So there it was. The first time he had ever spoken to her about his dreams and plans.

And he wanted what everyone else did.

Where exactly was the line, thought Satine. The line between strength and fanaticism? When did people start calling you crazy instead of determined? Did the end ever truly justify the means?

Leostrial frowned and looked down at their hands, hers still loosely held in his. “There is something that I should do, Satine, and I should have done it a long time ago. I took you for granted. I’m sorry.”

This was far too much. She wasn’t ready for it. They had never even tried to cross this ground before—there was too much pain in it. She knew what was coming and panic gripped at her.

“Satine, I need to ask you for forgiveness.”

She shook her head, unable to speak.

“I killed your father, Satine,” he said quietly, and she closed her eyes, trying not to listen. “I killed him, and you knew this, and yet ... still you let me into your life here. I have regretted his death every single day that I’ve known you. And you cannot possibly fathom how sorry I am. Truly. I ask that somehow, if it’s at all possible, you can forgive me this, in the hope that one day I might be able to fill your life with as much joy as he did.”

Satine let out a whimper. Why was he doing this to her? Why now? It all came back to this. He had killed her father, and so stuck a knife in her own heart, and the only way she could deal with that was to think that he didn’t care, and to try and kindle the anger the knife created. It was so much easier to deal with anger and hatred than anything else. But ... now he was saying such things, and everything she had based her life on was being crushed.

“You see, Satine, you are my soul, my heart’s destination. Each heart has its ruler, and you are mine. I never meant to hurt you—it is my life’s one true regret that I did. I love you. I always have.”

And because it was the first time he had ever said such things—had ever even come close to saying such things—Satine lent down and rested her head on his shoulder and she cried. He wrapped his arms around her, and held her, and stroked her hair. And she wept for she finally realised that she loved him too, and that was a grief deeper than any.

Screams rent the air as Liessen ran through the palace. There were bodies everywhere. Everywhere. And the blood—her dress was red with it. She didn’t know if it was hers or another’s.

She rounded the corner and ran her sword through the belly of a man.

Having fought these things all day, she knew that it would not be enough to kill him. Leaving the blade where it was in his stomach, she dived under the swing of his sword and snatched another blade from a body next to her. She raised it above her head in time to block his sword. Leaping from the ground, she dealt the man a blow to stun him so that she could slice off his head.

It was the only way they could be killed, these things that had come from across the sea, come to tear apart their city with inhuman strength.

Pulling her own sword free of his stomach, leaving the second bloody sword on the ground, she ran forward and into the tower. The steps were many and steep, and on them she encountered more of the creatures.

Finally, in the highest room of the west wing tower of the palace of Lapis Matyr, she found two of the three people she so desperately needed to find.

Altor, her husband, was lying with his head in Accolon’s lap, and the boy cried steadily. Accolon had been sent to Burmia five years ago for training, and as a result, Altor had become like a father to him.

It took her a moment to realise that there were three spear shafts in her husband’s chest. A cry was torn from her throat as she ran to his side. She put her hands around one of the spears and made to pull it out. Altor’s eyes flew open.

“Leave it,” he whispered, barely audible. Blood spilt from his mouth.

“Altor,” she cried, “we can save you.”

But, “No. Leave it.”

“Don’t do this,” she pleaded. Her own tears were on his face now, mingled with those of the boy’s.

“Where is Satine?” Altor asked hoarsely, and more blood came. Accolon’s head snapped up at the question.

“I don’t know,” Liessen sobbed, “I don’t know where she is.”

“Hold a moment, Accolon. Before you look for her I would speak with you.” The king paused to spit out the blood that seemed to be drowning him.

So much blood. It was everywhere. Liessen was sitting in an ocean of it.

“I want you both to listen to me,” Altor went on quietly but firmly. “I know you both love Satine as much as I do, and you care about her safety. The three of us, right here, right now, are going to make a vow. A pact that we can never break, not until death takes us.” He said it as though he were not already dying. “You must watch over her. As long as you live. Will you take this vow?”

“You don’t even have to ask,” Accolon said through his tears and Liessen nodded in agreement.

Altor’s body slumped slightly, but he opened his eyes again.

“Take your knife, Accolon,” he ordered and the boy did not hesitate. “Make a slit in your forearm so that you never forget. Never.”

“You have been more of a father than my own has been to me, Altor, and I will do this because I love you and your daughter.” The words were honourable, but choked with tears.

He was still only young.

“Go and find her now, Accolon,” Altor ordered.

The boy slid out from under Altor and ran from the room.

Liessen picked up the discarded knife and made to cut her own arm.

“Oh no—Liessen I did not mean for you to—” Altor started.

“I want to, Altor,” she replied. “So that I will have something to remind Accolon of his promise.” And she cut her arm.

She slid over, closer to him. “Soon it will match this one,” she said with a sad smile, gesturing to the scar on her cheek. A present from the El~ariah all those years ago when she had fled to him.

“Beautiful,” he whispered, and then he died, quietly and without fuss. Liessen did not scream or cry but kept her anguish inside her. Lying there, over the body of her dead husband, she made her own vow. She would not let her husband’s death go unavenged.

Liessen was a warrior. It was in her blood, as it was in her husband’s and her young daughter’s.

She had once been princess of the Amazonian warriors who lived in the jungles of Frescana, born to fight, with pride in their strength. She did not lose her pride when she left her throne and lost her place in the race of warriors, so the woman she became when her husband died was a pretence. Her life from that point on, except for loving her daughter, was an act. She became demure and obedient. And all because of an oath she had given on the cold stone flaggings of the highest room in the castle, next to the body of the one man she had ever truly loved.

The dead El~ariah lay all around her. They had sacrificed themselves rather than fight for anyone but the true kings of Paragor.

Liessen ran down the stairs and she fought like Odin himself.

She found Satine and Accolon in the dining hall, facing several of the demon spawn. Tears streaked Satine’s face—she had been told about her father. But her strength was that of her parents’, and so she fought on.

Liessen longed to join them, but she could see exactly how this would play out. Knew she would be taken as a prize, and that if she fought, she would be punished the only way that could possibly hurt her—by hurting Satine. So she would comply, to save her daughter.

Satine and Accolon fought so well together the queen was not needed. Almost beautiful, their fight was like a dance. Liessen knew they loved one another, and just hoped it would survive the wreckage of this day.

When it was over, Liessen called out, and Satine ran into her arms. Liessen wanted to comfort her, but there was no time.

“Not now, sweetheart. Now we must be strong. Strong for your father.”

Satine nodded and stood back. She could not stop her silent tears though.

“Accolon,” Liessen said urgently, and the boy ran to her side. “You must leave here now,” she said firmly.

“What? No! I must—” he said, gesturing to Satine and holding up his bloody arm for Liessen to see, as if she needed reminding of what had just happened.

“You can protect her more if you get away.” Liessen lowered her voice to a whisper so that Satine would not hear. “We will need someone free who knows what happened here today. Someone must bear witness to this and warn the rest of the world that there is trouble. You must get out. Warn them—they are our only hope. I will send Satine after you.” Then she stopped and pulled him into her arms.

“Be strong, Accolon my darling. You are a son to me also. Be brave for Satine, and brave for Altor. Go back to your family, and keep your vow,” she whispered, staring fiercely into his dark eyes.

He nodded and pulled away. He walked over to Satine and Liessen saw them speak. Satine was crying and he hugged her, but still she cried. Liessen thanked the gods, desperately grateful that she had sent their child away. This was no place for a royal baby.

And then Accolon was gone. He would keep his vow, she knew.

There was no more time for thoughts now, for in that moment, the doors opened and Leostrial walked in to claim their lives.

They boarded the armada the next day. Eight thousand fighters from four different lands. For the Strangers, the time they’d spent in Paragor previously had seemed like an age, but when they were faced with the eternity on the ships, it felt to them as though they had only been on Paragor for a heartbeat. Summer had come to an end and by the time they were ready to land it was near freezing.

During the long days at sea, the bickering between the Strangers increased. Eventually it got to the point where they couldn’t even be in the same room as one another.

On the seventh day after their departure, Accolon and Elixia were standing on the deck trying to put a bit of distance between themselves and the fighting Strangers.

Elixia had accompanied them. Accolon had said she would be invaluable for reviving wounded soldiers during the battle. She had not told him that she could do nothing with the wounded, only the dead, and that tending to such a large number of people would be nigh on impossible, because she did not want to be left behind.

They stood close, their faces to the wind, their hair swept behind them.

“Do you think we made a mistake in putting our faith in them? They are so young,” he said quietly.

“Do not doubt the prophecy now, Accolon, or we will fail. They will come through in the end, I am sure of it. Youth doesn’t always mean a disadvantage.”

“What of the fifth and sixth? What of the missing two?” he pressed.

“Jane said they would be here in time,” Elixia replied. “But if we are wrong, and they are not the Bright Ones, and this not the prophesised time ... Do we have a chance, Accolon?” He only just heard her above the wind and the noise of the waves crashing.

The thought of the death that was to come had been in Elixia’s thoughts over the past few months. Only she truly knew what to expect.

Elixia knew death’s true nature—that it was not the opposite of life, but so closely linked that they overlapped one and other. They didn’t know that death walked with them every step, growing inside them. They didn’t know that it was as much a part of them all as life.

Elixia was the last who knew of the dying art, the only woman who could understand death without fear.

“I would like to say yes,” Accolon answered. “It seems hard to believe that one country could raise a greater army than four put together. But there are other things to consider. Leostrial has inhuman power, and the gods have not answered our call.”

Elixia was about to say that she did not know why that was so when the water in front of them began to move in a strange pattern, swirling faster and faster, until a whirlpool appeared. Finally, from out of the depths, a form emerged. Too large to be a man, he exuded power, and he looked akin to a fish. His skin was tinted a faint blue and his hands and feet were webbed. There was no clothing on his strong body, and Elixia quickly turned away. But only for a moment, for when he turned his eyes upon her, she felt as though she were the naked one, and laid open to his very gaze.

His eyes were beautiful. They were blue, without pupils, and Elixia thought she could see waves crashing in them. He was standing on the waves, and though the swirling water was far below them, his head was at the height of their own.

“Greetings, Aegir,” Elixia said to him, for she had met him before.

Accolon looked swiftly at her and then turned to stare back at the sea god.

“Greetings, necromancer,” he replied calmly. His voice sounded loudly in their ears. He turned to Accolon and said, “Greetings Accolon, King of Uns Lapodis.”

Accolon tilted his head in a respectful gesture and said, “Greetings, Aegir. How do you do?”

Aegir laughed bitterly and replied, “How do I do? I am angered that you have called me here when there is direst need for me elsewhere.”

There was a moment of charged silence before Accolon spoke. “Aegir, we called you because we want to offer you our help.”

A disbelieving laugh escaped his lips. “And how, pray, do you think to help me?”

Elixia took a deep breath. “Not just you, all of the gods. Am I right to assume you do not know what the angel meant when he said that someone was coming?” Elixia saw a brief flash of surprise pass the god’s face before he nodded. “We know what he meant.”

“But how do you know?” Aegir asked. “We received the message only today.”

Elixia was confused, but she kept her composure. The Strangers must have had a premonition.

“There are those among us who have the gift of foresight,” she improvised.

“We know the Bright Ones are with you,” he said impatiently. “Did they see this?”

Elixia nodded in reply.

“Well tell me then,” he said, sighing.

“It’s Leostrial. He is planning to attack Elendial.”

“We have known for a long time that Leostrial was planning something, but we have not known what, for there is a shield that hides him from us.”

“We have come to fight him. With your help,” Elixia said.

She saw his eyes darken and realised she had made a mistake.

“Did you think that we would sit back and watch mortals fight for us?” he asked incredulously.

“Forgive us, Aegir. We are uncertain of many things at the moment,” said Accolon respectfully and the anger faded in the god’s eyes.

“I must leave you now, but we will be watching over you,” he said. Then reluctantly, “Thank you.” And Aegir was gone in a spray of water.

Elixia and Accolon stood in silence for a long time, staring out into the ocean. She turned to him and said, “It is a great thing to have seen a god. Very great.”

“Even one such as he?” Accolon asked bitterly, still staring at the sea.

“Yes, even one such as he. Never forget that he is a god, Accolon, and he has the power to crush us.”

He turned to look at her, and his dark eyes stared intently at her. Elixia’s breath caught in her throat.

“I’m sorry I have not been a better husband to you,” he said.

“Accolon you—”

“No, no,” he stopped her speaking. “I am sorry. But I want you to know that I have relied on you these past months.” He paused and took her hands in his own. “You mean everything to me.”

“But you do not love me, Accolon. Not truly. Not like you love Satine. I can see it in your eyes. I can see it in every breath you take. I have finally found peace just being your wife. Please don’t spoil that by lying to me,” she said.

She let his hands drop and walked back under the deck so that she didn’t have to look at his face any longer.