The waking of storm and.., p.22
The Waking of Storm and Flame, page 22
“A reaver? It cannot be so?” Emile was amazed to hear that the terrifying beast of legend was real. “And Cael he... Alira, I’m so sorry. He was–uh–a brother to me.”
Alira rubbed her reddened eyes, still wet from the tears she had shed. She hugged her knees and rocked back and forth, as she tried to soothe her mind and comfort her soul. “He, uh... yeah, he’s...”
Emile got on the bed next to Alira. He reached out to her hand and took it in his, needing her to know she was safe. She was in tremendous pain, and he showed her that she still had a friend. “I hope that Zahra made it back to Namelle and warned them of Essea. My heart breaks that we didn’t make it in time.”
Alira stopped and looked at him with a perplexed expression. “What do you mean, you didn’t make it?”
“The evening before you departed, I received a raven who had come from across the bay. It bore a letter with the seal of a golden lion. One sent by your brother.”
“Cael, he wrote to you?”
“Oui, did he not tell you?”
“He, uh.” She paused, “failed to mention it...”
“He wanted to reform the old alliance. I received from him the following day saying that Essea was marching to Aenne Aelle. I sent a response in short order that we would join you. It was my honor to fight alongside the great lions of the south again. We rallied what forces we could, but it was a struggle with those still loyal to my father... those damned Parisienne holdouts. We set out the next morning with a compliment of six thousand infantry and one thousand cavaliers, less than half of what I’d hoped for. He asked us to attack Essea from the west as Namelle marched from the south in Khuldir.”
Alira was hurt, Cael withheld such a vital piece of information from her. Not only her, but from Zahra in her planning. Damn you, Cael. Why did you not tell us? If only we might have waited one more day.
“We were waylaid, Alira. By the time we had arrived at Chantille, we encountered another force. One that fought us for four, long days before they retreated across the Great Bridge. They fought with us, I had never seen a force so-”
“The Esseans sent an offshoot west into Talliers?” So their numbers are far greater than expected.
“No, not Essea. They fought under the red banners of Illyria but were light and fierce with painted faces and bodies. I had never seen anything like it. They broke our lines, then they were amongst us like shadows. It terrified even the best soldiers. They delayed us and they gave every life in pursuit of that aim.”
Alira remembered her studies about Illyria and knowledge many had written down in the decades before. With Emile’s testimony and the literary echoes of the past she was able to unmask them. “Everything she said was right. Vanir is mobilizing more than just his vanguard.”
“C’est q’uoi? What do you mean she was right?”
She told me this was coming. Calos broke his seal, and he’s going to awaken Aegill. Alira’s eyes flittered about, and she grew a sick, green color as her stomach turned. She tucked her head between her knees and covered her ears. Why is it so hot in here? Will this room ever stop spinning? I...I...
Emile grabbed a bucket off the floor and shoved it into her chest in time to catch the vomit that spewed out of her mouth. Her arms wrapped around the bucket as Emile held her hair back with one hand. He tried to rub her back with the other, but her fears were beyond mortal aid. Once he was sure she wasn’t going to throw up again, he set the bucket back down on the floor.
“It wasn’t Essea you fought at the Great Bridge, Emile. The light armor, swift movement, and the penetration of your lines. That was Wardena.”
“Wardena? We haven’t fought such a force before.”
“If they are anything like Essea, even they have feigned their true strength.”
“Perhaps the Imperator has mobilized more than the Empire’s western lands.” He rose from his chair and walked out onto the balcony of the room. As he looked out over the city, Emile hit the handrail in front of him.
Alira stood, and her feet hit the cold marble floor. She was a bit unsteady at first, but soon rediscovered her strength, and joined Emile. “We thought we were ready and Essea destroyed us without so much as a second thought.”
She put her hand on his shoulder and looked out across Vilmonde. The city was filled with homes adorned with copper shingles atop houses of wood and white stone which ran off to their termination at the grey perimeter wall. Cobblestone streets wove their way throughout the residences, much like they did in Tirelle. Tallieri citizens went about their daily lives, oblivious to the wolves that lingered just beyond their borders.
“We’ll be ready, we have to be. My people have spent so much to repair our city from the–how do you say? –devastation of my father’s war. I can’t allow them to cross into Talliers unchallenged.”
“Emile, you still haven’t told me yet how you found me. How did you get through the Esseans?”
“She told me to find you.” As he turned, Alira noticed that his hand sat upon the grip of his sword. In its hilt a red stone glowed, fain in the light of the morning sun. “For so many years the stone was nothing more than a beautiful inset in my family’s sword. As we were about to cross onto the Plaine des Dieux, it–uh–awoke. I felt the searing heat of fire course through my body, but with the brief moment of pain there was comfort.”
“And what did she tell you?”
“I have been called through by another, thus the time of the end draws near. Awaken, Fate of my line, and hear me. Another faces execution, you must ride to her aid. When the moment is right, unleash my power and bathe them in flame. For too long has the shadow forgotten my name, but you will make them remember–Kaata.”
“So, your family line is also fated? Emile of the family Riennes, a Fate of Aten.”
“I did not understand it but the power she offered was incredible, surreal, and seductive. Her flame felt as though it coursed through me, as if it were a part of me.” He stared down at his fingertips and rubbed them together.
“They, uh, have a habit of doing that. Did she take control of you too?”
“No, not at all. It felt as though we fought as one. Where I was powerful, she was swift. Two, in perfect unison.” He motioned to the stone again. “You know what this is?”
Alira hesitated before speaking. If the Riennes family was also part of the fated line, she needed to trust him. “Yes, I do. My family heirloom was an ancient artifact that Cael entrusted to me before his death. It’s called the Ring of Terra. From that ring, a goddess, much like yours, awakened and bestowed upon me unimaginable power. But she sought control and took over me. I was her instrument, her puppet. I watched helplessly as she unleashed her wrath upon Essea. My autonomy was stripped away. She was in tune with my emotions and awoke when we needed her most. She—Drea—claimed she heard my call from beyond the veil.”
“There is another then?”
“Five altogether, from what I read in our kingdom’s oldest record. Unite the Fates, she told me.” Alira told him about her meeting with Drea and how she was chosen to find the one called Aten. Having experienced the power firsthand, Emile questioned nothing she said.
“Kaata offered me direction, swiftness, and strength. She told me to find you, and I believe she felt the Drea’s call. Kaata chose the moment to strike and insisted that we save you. That thing on the platform, she seemed to have unfinished business with it. Unlike you, however, the decision and the actions were my own.”
“The stone set in your sword belonged to your family, where the one set in the Ring of Terra was not that which was given to my Verbrandt ancestors. Drea confirmed I was a Fate, but that I was not the fate of her line. Perhaps that was why I was unable to control her. Zahra taught me to fight, but not like I can under her control. Every swing of the sword, every block and parry. Her precision, her tenacity–all of it present and none of it mine. She broke me. My body is not used to the strain of combat and yet Drea remembered all too well. Still, I am alive, and I have her to thank for that.”
“Well, I’m glad that she helped me find you, Alira. I count my many blessings as well that my First Bow trained our archers well. It was one of their arrows that felled your executioner, a perfect shot. Then we took the attack on in, and the sacrifice of my soldiers allowed me to get to you.”
“Well, please introduce me to your First Bow in time. I’d very much like to thank them.” The smile so often borne on Emile’s face faded and was told Alira that there was something wrong. “Did I... say something wrong?” Alira asked.
“She’s—” A knock rattled on the door to the room. “Well, I’m thankful she trained them so well. A story for another time.” He stepped back into the room and beckoned to the person at the door to enter. A heavy-set man, with grey hair and a short beard stepped in.
“Veuillez m’excuser, Votre Altesse. Lady Alira, so nice to see you are moving about.”
“Et toi, Guillaume, merci. It’s good to see you again.”
“Your Highness, your attendance is requested in the throne room. The Vocklan delegation is ready and awaits you. From the docks, the party from Drangvik have disembarked and will be present in the next few minutes.
“Drangvik? You brought Drangvik here?!” Alira’s head whipped around, and she looked to Emile for a response. She failed to hide the confusion and anger that were interwoven in her heart. “Emile, please, they are the descendants of Vaal the Undying. What they did to my people is unforgivable.”
“Yes, and they have been a forgotten part of this continent for too long. They have as much to fear from Illyria as we do.” He turned back to his chamberlain, “Guillaume, have the delegations from Reyvia and Shiun arrived?” Guillaume shook his head to give news the prince didn’t want to hear. “Then please inform our guests I will be there to greet them shortly.”
Guillaume nodded and departed the room, closing the door behind him. “I’ll give you a few minutes to get yourself ready and we can go together, Alira. Amélie has laid out something she had made for you.” He pointed to a dress that was hung in the far corner of the room just behind the balcony door. “I trust you’ll find the color to your liking?”
“Emile, why have they come? Why now?”
“I hoped that you would tell me. It was Cael who summoned them. His letter called each of the southern kingdoms to Vilmonde to answer the Illyrian problem. He knew our fight was not only with Essea and needed to buy time for each to answer. That reason he may have marched on Essea alone, to buy us time. After everything you’ve suffered in the Aelle Faene and on the Heaven’s Fall, they must see how dire our predicament is.”
Alira remained unimpressed, sitting down on her bed with her arms folded. Why did you not tell me, brother?
“I’ll take my leave then. The guards outside your door will escort you down once you are ready.” Emile gave a slight bow to Alira and left her to wonder on the lost wishes of her brother.
* * *
Emile’s guards escorted Alira from her room in the hospital wing, her footsteps shuffling along the smooth stone floors. As they walked, memories of her childhood began to resurface. The sun streamed through the ornate windows, casting a warm reddish hue across the corridors. Female attendants bustled about, tidying and cleaning, while groups of burly men hung new Riennes family banners. Despite the years of war between Vilmonde and Périzieu, the castle still retained its charm, though it was a stark contrast to the crumbling battlements and weathered walls of Namelle.
Each step brought her further into the past. The longer she looked, the more she could see herself, a spectre of her imagination that lived out some of the happiest moments of her life. Alira wished she could linger and revel in the delights of a life since passed, but there were other matters to attend.
At the throne room door, the guards halted and pushed open the massive wooden doors. As Alira entered, the sharp clack of her heels echoed, drawing the attention of those gathered. Not one for the spotlight, she winced as she passed a marble pillar, and the herald announced her.
“Princess Alira Verbrandt of Namelle!”
The announcement caused her heart to skip a beat. It has been some time since I’ve been announced anywhere. I am pleased that Namelle gave up such formal, courtly customs many decades ago. She looked at Emile whose smile stretched from ear to ear. Of course it was you, ever the trickster. She managed an unimpressed smile for the remainder as she continued forward. Just you wait. Enjoy your little laughs while you can.
The prince and his guests rose to greet her, and Emile stepped out from his chair and moved around the table to give an introduction. “Alira, may I introduce Leopold Schmitt and Emmeline Baumann, advisors to Count Jonas and Countess Jannika Krüger of Vockla.
“It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance my lady. It saddens me to receive news of your brother.” The well-built Leopold spoke first, with his kept blonde hair and deep blue eyes. That armor, it must be Vocklan. The purple and copper accents are stunning!
“Unfortunate that there have been too many sad moments of late, my lady. I am Emmeline, and it is our pleasure to make your acquaintance.” She was shorter in build than Alira and had a deep cut that ran across her cheek. Emmeline had blonde hair and blue eyes, a common trait among the Vocklan people.
“It’s an honor to meet both of you,” Alira said, and offered an awkward wave. “Although–and please interrupt me if I’m mistaken–I thought Vockla was a protectorate of Talliers. Is it not still?”
“There have been many changes of late,” Emile replied. “When my father’s mind waned and he set our people against one another, Vockla pledged to fight for Vilmonde. After the long war, I granted them their independence and we pledged to honor each other’s call from that day until our last.”
In the end, I suppose the circumstances are irrelevant and only the question of ‘will they fight by our side?’ remains. If Emile puts his faith in those who guard the northern shore, then I will in turn.
Emile moved to introduce the envoy from Drangvik. The man was rugged and lacked any air of refinement, exactly as Alira had expected from the southern isles. His gaze had been fixed on her from the moment she entered the hall. She met his stare, her hands clenched into tight fists beneath the table.
“Finally, Alira may I introduce–”
“Are we going to have a problem?” The Drangvikr spoke in such a deep voice it seemed to reverberate through the legs of the table. The hairless head, beard and ritualistic markings that covered his body seemed to match everything the keepers had recorded about those from Drangvik. His name didn’t matter, and there was no difference between one islander and another. To Alira, it was Vaal who sat next to her.
“Rest assured,” she said through gritted teeth. “The problem lies only with you and your people. In each and every one of you it broods as it has for hundreds of years.”
“Good. We’ll need every bit of your anger, but none will serve you here. Save it for them/ The only enemy you’ll find in this room, princess, is that which you bring with you.” He looked to Emile and smiled, “just the girl that the jarl hoped she would be.”
What does he mean ‘hoped she would be? Who is this jarl? An uncivilized title for an equally barbaric civilization.
“If you’re done with your tirade, girl, then you can take a moment to remember my name. I am Kjallak Thorvardsson, the Thane of Keldaheim and advisor to the Jarl of Drangvik.”
“Now that we’re all... acquainted, let’s proceed,” Emile said. He turned to Kjallak, “what does the jarl say about the meeting? Will she remove the naval blockade and open Asjavegr to us?”
“She has agreed to host this council but cautions you that outsiders on the island of Ellriheim will not be widely accepted among the Thanes. Find peace, for she has brought them all to heel before and will not hesitate to again. She has one request in order to lift the blockade,” his eyes traced from Emile to Alira, “you bring this one with you. Word has reached her of you.”
“Travel to those cursed islands? Never will a Verbrandt set foot in Drangvik unless it be to burn it to the ground.” Alira stood out of her chair and hit her hands against the table.
“Friends, mes amies, if you please.” Emile lifted his hand in an attempt to quell the fire that burned inside Alira. “There are much darker things at work and the more we dwell on the past, the more we impact our future. Let us set aside our individual hostilities for the greater good.”
“Emile, if I may.” Leopold placed his cup of wine down on the table and stood up. He walked around, with his hands animated as he spoke. “I need not tell you, but we share a common enemy. The Vocklan nation stands at the threshold of an Illyrian advance to the north. Whether by land or sea it matters not. We are without the support of Périzieu who guards the eastern border. Thus, we must strike first, strike hard and fast.”
“We know of the sizable force that Essea sent to the Heaven’s Fall,” Emmeline added. “A sea of black that traversed the great plain. If what Emile tells us is true, then the Imperator has also ordered Wardena into this fight. I fear that if we don’t force him to action now and keep him contained in Nemesia then Vanir may turn his attention north to Radia.”
“The one advantage Illyria has over us is they’re already united.” Leopold said. “Our spies in deep cover within their capital of Trella tell us that, though their society has order, it is a tinderbox which awaits an errant spark. They rule with fear, and that fear brings order.” Leopold placed his hands on the back of Alira’s chair. “The best time to strike a precise blow is now. The Essean Army has passed through the mountains and will have set upon Namelle already.”
“Then my city is lost?” Alira was in disbelief and dreaded the thought of what the Esseans might have done to her people in her absence.
“I don’t believe it is beyond our intervention yet.” Emile said. “If we can trap them in the south and overwhelm them, we may just be able to take Essea out of this fight. To do that, we’ll need help from the east.”
“You think Reyvia and Shiun will commit? I’m certain they haven’t forgotten how Namelle treats their allies.” Kjallak’s words that threw fuel on the fire of Alira’s rage. “You believe they’ll fight for her kingdom, prince? The earliest chance Namelle had, they formed an alliance with the eastern lands, but at the first calling, they abandoned it.”
