Crystal Crowned [ARC]

  “He’s another Waterrunner and—”

  “And the taint has already passed his elbow. The damn things were like boils, and the infection is flooding the body!”

  Vhalla stared in horror, wondering if she’d damned her friend. She swallowed, trying to follow Elecia’s train of thought. Grahm was dead from the moment the taint set in. This was their only chance to save him.

  She ran over to the tavern’s bar, locating a long rag. On the way back she scooped up one of the major’s swords.

  “Wait, that’s—”

  The Empress silenced the major with a pointed glare. She didn’t really give a damn that it was his. It could’ve been the Mother’s for all Vhalla cared. The man realized it and silenced himself. Most of the majors took it as the cue to flee the room.

  “Wait, you can’t possibly mean to . . .” Fritz gaped in horror as Vhalla began to tourniquet Grahm’s upper arm.

  “This needs to go in his mouth to keep him from biting his tongue.” Vhalla twisted up the other rag, placing it between Grahm’s teeth.

  “Isn’t there—”

  “Freeze him, hold him still, and say nothing else.” Elecia’s breathing was heavy, nerves beginning to take over. She was a good cleric, but this was going to be a test for the woman. “Vhalla, push over that bench, spread his arm across it.”

  Aldrik helped Vhalla accomplish Elecia’s order. It had become the most makeshift operating table the any of them had ever seen, and it was all that stood between Grahm and certain death. Elecia drew the sword and adjusted her stance a few times, pushing the benches into just the right spots.

  “Vhalla, hold his arm. Fritz his shoulders. Aldrik be ready with the fire,” she commanded.

  Vhalla gripped Grahm’s wrist. Her fingers compressed against the rotted flesh and bones that squished and slid like pond scum on a rock. She ignored the chilling sensation and held the arm as straight as possible.

  “Can’t we rethink this?”

  “Keep him subdued, Fritznangle!”

  “But—”

  “Fritz, trust Elecia!” Vhalla pleaded with her friend.

  Fritz turned his head away as Elecia lined up her mark with the sword. Vhalla saw her plant her feet to the ground. She felt the tingle of magic through the air as the Groundbreaker made her arms as heavy as rocks in order to create as much momentum possible.

  The blade whizzed through the air, and Fritz flinched as it connected with bone. Vhalla felt the crack reverberate through Grahm’s arm. The man screamed into the rag in his mouth.

  Elecia was undeterred. She freed the blade with a small jostle, and raised it again for a second swing. Marrow oozed from the wound, blood pooling on the benches and dripping to the floor.

  It took two swings to sever Grahm’s arm from his body.

  “Aldrik, cauterize it, lightly,” Elecia instructed. “I only want to help the clotting along, I may need to remove more later once I see what the taint or infection is doing.”

  “Remove more later?” Fritz swayed weakly.

  “Hopefully when we have proper medical supplies,” Elecia murmured.

  Grahm moaned in agony as wisps of flame sealed his wound. But his pain seemed to be lessening due to Fritz’s numbing of the spot, a makeshift sedative. Vhalla prayed that, when he woke, he would barely remember what occurred.

  Elecia quickly bandaged the wound. But she didn’t release the tourniquet until the blood stopped seeping through the cloth. Fritz hadn’t let go of Grahm; he stared in dumb shock at his lover’s face.

  “I’m going to go find something for him,” Elecia announced. She swayed slightly. Vhalla knew the exhaustion was just as much mental as it was physical. “Some cleric in the rear guard must have something . . .”

  “Will he be okay now?” Fritz whispered.

  “I hope so.” Vhalla cringed as she picked up the severed arm, enough meat left above the elbow for it to wag uncomfortably. She deposited it in the alleyway behind the tavern. Vhalla ran her hands over her pants legs all the way back, trying to remove the feeling of liquefied tainted flesh and a limp severed limb.

  Grahm groaned softly. Vhalla quickly kicked away the bloody bench upon her return. It was bad enough what had happened to him. She didn’t want him waking up and having to see the remnants.

  “Grahm?” Fritz breathed.

  “Fritz?” The Eastern man began to rouse.

  “I’m here. I’m here with you,” Fritz reassured.

  “I need, I need to bring updates . . .” he murmured, almost delirious.

  Shock did incredible things to the body, Vhalla reasoned.

  “Hush, it’s all right.”

  “No,” Grahm refused Fritz’s consoling, squinting his eyes open. “I need to tell the Emperor . . .”

  “What?” Aldrik stepped into Grahm’s field of vision so the patient wouldn’t have to turn his head.

  “Silver Wings,” Grahm fought for every word. “My Emperor, they fight for you.”

  Vhalla stood, taking her place next to Aldrik. Grahm’s eyes widened a fraction, as though he was struggling to see her.

  “Lady Empress, it’s true?”

  “Grahm, thank you for your service,” Vhalla soothed.

  “It-it was our honor.” He swallowed thickly. No doubt his mouth still had the cotton taste of the rag. “We have one hundred men and women who escaped the palace. They fought with me.” Grahm looked up at Fritz. “Did they make it?”

  “Most.” Fritz nodded.

  “Thank the Mother,” Grahm’s eyes pressed closed. “They’ll know the paths, once you get in. There’s another hundred or more, if they . . . fighting in the palace. They will help you. Victor’s retreated - up. They’ll help you get there . . . He’s . . . There’re more monsters. He’s not done . . .”

  “We understand. We do. Now rest.” Fritz smoothed away hair from the man’s forehead.

  “Fritz . . .” Grahm stared up at his man, who was doing a better job of holding Graham than holding his own emotions together. “I’m glad I could see you again.”

  “Me, too.”

  “I love you,” Grahm whispered.

  “And I love you.” Tears fell from Fritz’s eyes. “Now, don’t die.”

  Elecia returned, crossing over to Grahm with intent, ending the conversation. She poured three vials down his throat that she swore would have nearly the same effect as Deep Sleep and helped Fritz carry Grahm up to the second floor of the tavern to be kept safe and hidden during the remainder of the battles.

  Vhalla let out a heavy sigh. Aldrik’s arms wrapped around her; she accepted his comfort and strength, stealing a moment alone with her husband. The room was quiet; even the night outside was still.

  “What are we fighting for?” Vhalla closed her eyes for a moment, but all she saw was blood. Blood of her allies. Blood of her enemies. Enough blood to drown in ten times over. “What will be left when the wars are done?”

  “That’s what we’re fighting for.” He squeezed her gently. “Whatever, whomever, is left.”

  “Even if that’s not us.” Vhalla stepped away, not giving into the alluring comfort of retreat that his presence offered. There was still a war to win.

  CHAPTER 33

  Victor had little concern for the unspoken etiquette of war. Just as Grahm and his soldiers had forewarned, the false king had been preparing another wave of monsters and abominations. The lull was only long enough for him to plan that next attack.

  They had barely enough time to brace themselves. But they did have some time, which was entirely thanks to Grahm and the Silver Wings.

  The rush of battle seemed duller the second time around, and Vhalla struggled to move her feet with the same speed as she had before. Majors ran screaming into the early morning light, organizing what was left of the troops.

  Vhalla followed, leading what was now her command. The defensive wall they’d built out of ice and earth had been destroyed. Vhalla sprinted in a
direction opposite Aldrik, but Jax remained glued to her side. Jax was foolishly determined to live up to his prior oaths of dying for her life, if need be. Vhalla was equally determined to make sure it didn’t come to pass. They weren’t nearly as synced as she and Aldrik were, but it was better than any other soldier, and they were both fast learners.

  Fritz remained behind with Grahm, a new reason to hold the line. Elecia’s clerical opinion was uncertain; she couldn’t be sure that he’d pull through, if the taint was even gone. The notion was one Vhalla refused to entertain.

  Victor was terribly clever. His initial wave of soldiers carried crystals. Every one soldier that moved upon the Imperial army created two or three more enemy soldiers as they shoved small crystals into the corpses scattered throughout the battlefield. The crystals flared, and Vhalla could feel Victor’s will summoning them back to a twisted form of life.

  His magic twisted within her. She grabbed hold of the wriggling mass under her skin, pouring it into her hands. It resisted her some now, her exhausted state prevented her from being able to easily funnel it to her will. But the sorcery eventually sprung from her hands and rendered useless half of the crystal-reanimated soldiers.

  Vhalla gripped her knees, winded a moment.

  You wretched creature! Victor’s voice raged faintly in the back of her mind.

  “This works both ways,” she panted. “If you’re going to insist on invading my mind, then I’m going to use that against you.”

  The magic was a brutal and uncomfortable feeling. Each time she used it, it was harder than the last. It was like wrapping a noose around her own neck and tightening it one pull at a time. But this would be their final push; the castle gates were in sight, and Vhalla would give it all she had. And if that meant working herself to death, then she would die and hope to take Victor with her.

  She moved through the field, willing her magic alongside his. They’d almost reached the castle when Victor finally gathered the strength to stop her, making her feel the same sharp feeling inside as that night in the tent.

  “Jax!” she cried. He was at her side in an instant. “I need-need—” She inhaled sharply, the freezing pain blurring her vision. “Sehra.”

  The Westerner looked conflicted, assessing the field quickly. Deciding it was too unsafe to leave her where she was, he picked her up in his arms and bolted in the direction of the other half of the army. Vhalla watched Aldrik until he disappeared from her field of vision. The Emperor pushed on toward his palace.

  “Princess Sehra!” Jax called. “Sehra!”

  Vhalla began to shudder, and Jax’s grip tightened on her. They had to move faster, but she was in too much pain, and her teeth wouldn’t stop chattering long enough for her to tell him so. She closed her eyes, focusing on fighting the magic, on doing whatever she could. Vhalla felt the world slipping away as she began falling into the dark void known as death.

  But, like before, light exploded within her, bright and brilliant. Vhalla’s mind cleared, and awareness surged through her, momentarily free of Victor’s weight.

  Sehra was held tightly in Za’s arms, the archer shaking her sovereign, trying to wake her.

  “Sehra . . .” Vhalla sat. “Sehra!” she joined Za’s call.

  The princess opened her eyes weakly. “That was the last time . . .” she breathed weakly.

  “I understand.” Vhalla nodded. “We won’t need it again.”

  “Sehra use too much of her power.” Za began angrily. “Sehra in danger. She can no more—”

  “I know, Za.” Vhalla boldly rested a palm on the archer’s shoulder. “Take her away, go, hide. If you can, flee.”

  When Vhalla expected Za to be relieved, her scowl only deepened.

  “You think North listen to South command with no Sehra, no Za?” She shook her head. “North is proud. North finish our fight.”

  Vhalla stared in awe as Za stood and helped the exhausted Sehra to her feet. An explosion of fire shook the ground nearby, jolting them all back to the battle. Vhalla looked between the two Northerners and the exit of the alley they were currently hiding in.

  “Stay alive, both of you,” Vhalla demanded before returning to the battle at Jax’s side.

  With Victor’s magic shut off, Vhalla could no longer disarm crystal traps or slay beasts from the sky. The army was forced to complete the final push to the castle gates using only traditional means—magic and steel. Vhalla and Jax returned to a thin, disorganized host. She scanned for majors, for any leadership, and found none. It had devolved into utter chaos.

  “Jax,” she spoke from the outside edge of the fray.

  “Lady Empress?”

  “This may be where we die.” She faced the truth openly.

  “No.” He shook his head. “You’ve never done things the easy way, Vhalla. And death now would be the easy way out.”

  “You’re insane,” Vhalla laughed quietly and spurred her feet into a run.

  She ran toward that dream that had lingered in her heart since the Night of Fire and Wind. A dream of peace, of freedom, of a tomorrow without fear. The streets were littered with bodies to be vaulted over or step upon. Bodies that could have been a friend. Or could have been a soldier she’d trained under. Or one she’d eaten with on the march. But she wouldn’t grieve for them now. She wouldn’t collapse before the overwhelming titan known as fear and worry. As long as one of their army lived, all their hearts beat as one. She’d want the same if it was her face-down in her own blood.

  Soldiers locked in combat all around her, but Vhalla only had one focus. It stretched beyond the man in white and gold armor wielding flames—flames that didn’t burn nearly as bright as they once had. Her eyes locked with her current foe—the locked gates of the palace.

  “Those for Solaris, with me!” she screamed painfully.

  “What’s the plan?” Aldrik cried, seeing her running head-first through the chaos.

  The only obvious one, Vhalla thought. She may no longer have Victor’s magic, so there was only one option when it came to opening the crystal encrusted gates. It was dangerous and reckless, and it was something she’d avoided doing since the sandstorm in the West. Since Aldrik had cautioned her about throwing herself into her Channel.

  But desperate times called for desperate measures.

  “Hold your ground here!” she directed, keeping the soldiers away from the gates.

  Wind already howled through the streets. It spun under her feet, nearly lifting her into the air with its force. She wanted to do this as brutally and forcefully as Victor had when he had wrenched the fragile peace that so many had died for under the previous Emperor’s hands.

  The wind rushed in her ears, but it was not enough. She needed every ounce of air the sky had left to give her. This was not a summer breeze or a mountain gale; she would be the wind, unstoppable and untamable.

  And Vhalla let go.

  She relinquished herself to the wind. The world faded away, and she lost sense of her corporal body. Muscles and bones popped and stretched with the force of the twister as her body was flung toward the doors, riding on the wind.

  The air refused to let her be harmed while in its embrace so it was left with only one option—break down the gates before her, or smash her into them. They splintered. The crystals around them came crashing down, shattered with the brute force of her magic. Vhalla rolled across the ground, her magic failing the second she realized her mission had been accomplished.

  Everything hurt. Everything was stretched past its limit, so far it couldn’t even break. Her bones were too tired to even do that much.

  She dug into the recesses of her magic and her will with determination. Vhalla raised her head, drawing herself to her knees. The doors to the ceremonial throne room began to open before her, no doubt thanks to the Wings. Far beyond, Vhalla could see a throne glittering with crystal, a place where she knew Victor had sat and sown horror.

  It was a throne she would reclaim
before the day was done.

  CHAPTER 34

  They pushed upward through the palace, fighting against Victor’s every resistance. The soldiers who could still conjure a flame or hold a sword reclaimed the palace, one floor at a time. Sorcerers seemed to materialize from the stonework itself to resist them. But the Imperial army continued, determined. They all hoped that, should they put an end to Victor, the rest would fall.

  Aldrik led their center. Vhalla was at his right hand, Jax at hers. The teams were smaller now, and there was barely enough room in some hallways to run three side by side, more or less fight.

  Running with them were three men and women who she had neither met nor seen before, but she already trusted them implicitly. They had survived this far, and she had to assume it was for a reason.

  The hallway they sprinted through opened up into a larger artery of the palace. Several sorcerers were waiting, and magic sparked on instinct. Aldrik and Jax were a well-made pair.

  The Emperor stepped first, arcing fire between them and Victor’s supporters. Jax sprinted, full-tilt, into the flames. By the time Aldrik’s magic had vanished, Jax was searing one of the five to the bone. Vhalla was close on his tail but far enough behind to avoid being burned; she was ready the second the flames disappeared, ready to blow the face off one of the men.

  “Keep on!” Jax shouted to her and Aldrik. “We’ll handle this rabble.”

  They were close now, close to the pinnacle of the world. It was like they were spiraling upward into Victor’s domain. Once beautiful statues had been toppled. Paintings had ink splattered overtop. Banners of Solaris hung in tatters, defiled. Crystals became more plentiful, as though the caverns had moved with Victor and taken root in the palace, determined to spread its taint across the world and to cast its lot in with the most likely man to help it do so.

  They had been fighting for hours, days, weeks, months, but suddenly the two of them stood at the end of the hall leading to the Imperial quarters. The once beautiful golden doors hung at odd angles, completely encased in giant spears of crystal. This was where Victor had chosen to make his stand.