Once the gates were opened, the army would tackle whatever else Victor had waiting for them and venture forward into the largely unknown southern territory. The meeting with the majors ran late in the day. They carefully watched and planned.
Whatever the beasts were, they didn’t seem particularly intelligent. They remained stoic guardians as the army moved forward. Archers lined up on command, Vhalla at their center point. Jax, not Aldrik, was at her side. The Emperor was positioned not far off with the Black Legion—a term they were already discussing retiring in light of Victor’s naming system.
“I will dislodge the beasts from the walls.” Vhalla rode down the ranks, reminding the soldiers of the plans their leaders should’ve trickled down to them. “One or two, I will pin to the ground for the swordsmen and pole arms. While I do this, you will need to fend off the others in the sky.”
The Black Legion was lined behind the archers, and they all gave her their full attention.
“Archers, sorcerers, even if your attacks do not hit their mark, so long as you keep them at bay, you have been successful.”
Vhalla paused her mount, her eyes meeting Aldrik’s. The Emperor gave her a small nod, and Vhalla adjusted her grip on the reins. Her heart willed him to be safe in the impending skirmish.
“He doesn’t want you here,” Jax spoke only for her ears.
“No, he would rather I was still in Norin,” Vhalla agreed.
“Well, I want you to know that I told him he need not worry.” Jax sat back in his saddle, adjusting the high bun on his head. “For I will protect our delicate and most innocent Empress.”
Vhalla snorted in amusement. Laughter was a precious commodity these days. And if Jax was good for anything, it was creating that rare resource in droves.
Clenching her fists, she opened her Channels, directing her attention to the beasts. Raising her hands, she felt the world for miles around. The winds of the Western Waste had always been a monster of their own. Now it was time to pit monster against monster.
Dropping her hands suddenly, and with a grunt at the magical exertion, two of the crystal abominations were sent crashing from their perches by the sudden and unseen force of her wind. Vhalla pulled toward her, the wind literally tugging at her taut fingers. The beasts tumbled awkwardly in their struggle to become airborne.
Panting and determined, Vhalla pressed down harder. Their leathery, crystal-tipped wings functioned like sails, catching her gusts. Palms flat and open, Vhalla held two creatures against the sand.
The roar of the soldiers could barely be heard over the cries of the other crystal monsters taking to the sky. Fire and arrows rang out. Every time one tried to swoop down, a giant inferno or swarm of arrows kept it at bay.
Beads of sweat ran down her forehead. She could feel them, as though her hands were physically upon them. Struggling, twisting, writhing, they fought against her physically and magically.
Vhalla was so focused on her magic that Jax’s shout of warning went completely unheard. She had to keep the beasts down long enough for the soldiers to overwhelm them. She had to keep the wind focused only on them, but not on the swordsmen and women who had begun their bloody work of slaying the beasts.
A pair of arms closed around her, and Vhalla was pulled against Jax’s chest. Sand filled her mouth as she was tackled to the ground, face first, off her horse. Flames burst around them, burning as hot as she’d ever seen. The heat was suffocating and Vhalla struggled to breathe, her body shielded by the one atop her.
A crack and sizzling noise threatened to split open the earth, and Vhalla cried out at the discomfort as electric magic pulsed through her mind. Sweat dripped from her face, and she stayed still, letting Jax’s body shield her from the flames as much as possible. Magic, powerful and wild, surged about them, barely diffused by Jax’s shield of flame.
“Jax! Too hot!” She was boiling alive.
“Well, I didn’t know they could use lightning!”
“You can’t sustain this for much longer.” Vhalla twisted, ready to make a break for it.
“Someone will take it down,” he insisted.
“After the next shot, Jax, send the fire straight up.”
“I am keeping you alive!” Jax shouted.
There was another crack, and his shield wavered.
“Quit this noble nonsense and be the insane asshole I want!”
His shoulders shook, and the man sprung to his feet. The fire that had been blazing about them shot up as a pillar through the air. Vhalla swung her hands down with a cry, giving the beast no option but to be impaled upon his flames. The creature’s cry was as loud as it was agonizing. And it only made Jax’s flames burn all the hotter and her winds blow harder.
With a mad dash, they both narrowly avoided the charred remains of the creature as it crashed down to earth. The crystals that had shone so brilliantly on its wings went dull, like scratched obsidian, then cracked. Vhalla scrambled to her feet, feeling her Channel in preparation for her next attack.
The remaining two beasts were engaged with different groups of sorcerers and soldiers. Fire, ice, and arrows sought purchase against their nearly impenetrable bodies, trying to bring them out of the air. Vhalla picked one at random, sending it out of the sky. By the time she could turn to the other, the sorcerers had finished it.
It was a small victory, but a victory nevertheless. It would be the first of many, she vowed. One after another, the tainted wretches that stood against them would fall.
THEY QUICKLY MOVED on the wall. There wasn’t time to waste. Each moment that ticked threatened enemy reinforcements and monsters. Vhalla brought her fingers to her mouth and gave a sharp whistle. With a half jump and step on the air, she mounted Lightning in a single motion.
“Make a path!” she called at the top of her lungs. Soldiers were quick to oblige.
Like thunder, a War-strider appeared at her side. Aldrik’s new mount was as large as Baston ever was. Vhalla gave the Emperor a quick glance-over, looking for wounds—and he did the same to her.
He looked uneasily at the gate. “Are you sure about this?”
“Do you have a better idea?” Vhalla glanced at the Northern forces slowly regrouping around their princess. “Sehra said she can’t help here. What other choice do we have?”
They both pulled their mounts to a stop before the wall. Vhalla knew Victor would be aware when each of his beasts died. There was a connection between him and the crystals. She’d known it from the first abomination she’d encountered.
“Don’t come any closer, Aldrik.” Her words of caution were needless; the man knew as well as she the risks associated with crystals.
Vhalla dismounted, blinking her eyes. The magic was unlike anything she’d ever seen. It swirled in a tight jumble just above the crystal. But it was strangely familiar. She was reminded of the axe, the layers of magic that lingered upon it.
Holding out a hand, Vhalla made contact.
It was a mess of power, pulsing through her fingertips, testing her as much as she was testing it. It was like professional musicians sitting together, skilled but all strumming notes to a different song, creating nothing but a cacophony. Yet there was an underlying beat, one she knew. It resonated deep within her; it echoed across her being and accepted her.
Vhalla’s magic called to itself.
She broke away, peeling her hand from the wall. The residual magic swirled between her fingers, slowly fading. Vhalla began to laugh, dazed and shocked.
“What is it?” Aldrik took a cautionary step forward.
“It’s mine,” she observed. Amazement and resentment fought for her heart. “All of this, he’s doing by lacing my magic under it to hold the crystals together in the shapes he wants.”
“The crown . . .”
Vhalla gave a solemn nod of affirmation. There was much to think on with this revelation. Victor couldn’t tap into her Channel. Having her magic in the crown didn’t make him a Windwalker. Which meant that perhaps he had a finite
amount of magic he was working with and slowly exhausting. The idea upheld their earlier theories of why he built walls with gates rather than building or tearing them down as he needed.
With two hands, she made full contact with the wall. Vhalla closed her eyes, thinking of it as an odd sort of Joining. She only
needed to gain control of that underlying current beneath all the nonsense that was structured atop it.
Reaching out to the magic, she tried to welcome it once more into herself. It was just slightly different, the crystal magic and Victor’s pulling it in odd directions. It squirmed and slithered, resistant to accepting her. Resistant to letting her regain control.
Embracing the connection completely, she allowed what she thought was her magical pulse from the caverns to merge with her current magic. It connected with her in one breath—and horror settled in. The magic was not purely hers any longer.
A heartbeat echoed through her ears.
Mentally retreating, Vhalla tried to pull away. She tried to force the unwelcome presence that had piggybacked its way into her through her own sorcery. But it was already pulsing through her, poisoning her. Like spindly vines, it dug into her with deadly thorns. It joined with her essence.
She stumbled backward, a clamor of armor. Vhalla stared at her hands in horror as a maniacal chuckle echoed on the edge of her mind before fading away. She held her head tightly, trying to purge the slimy feeling that coated the underside of her skin.
“No.”
“What is it? What happened?” Aldrik rushed over.
“Don’t touch me!” She stopped him at arm’s length. Too much had happened in those few seconds, and she needed to come to terms with it all.
“Vhalla—”
“Not now,” she grit out.
His brow furrowed and he frowned in concern. But they were here to do a job, and they both knew it. Aldrik’s expression shifted as he visually invoked his training as both a leader and a lord to the forefront. “Can you open it?”
“I can do one better.” Vhalla pushed herself to her feet, clenching her fists. There was a deep pleasure coursing through her in the realization of new knowledge gained. She just wished she could say for certain it was her own.
“You’re trembling,” he whispered.
“I’ll be fine.” Vhalla hoped saying it would make it true.
The power within her rumbled as Vhalla stared at the wall. Vhalla turned and marched back to her steed, mounting Lightning with confidence. She gripped the reins, hatred bubbling deep within her.
“Men and women of the Empire Solaris!” she shouted. The soldiers snapped to attention, near and far, as the wind carried her voice across the field. Aldrik mounted next to her. “Behind this wall is our land. For some of you, it is home. For others, it is the home of your children or your forefathers. The wall is a scar upon our Empire—when I remove it, you will push forward and you will kill every man, woman, and monster who does not mark themselves loyal to the true Emperor of this land!”
With cheers of bloodlust at her back, Vhalla returned her attention to the wall, summoning every ounce of her strength and of the new found understanding she’d gained of the dark Channel that now lived within her. Victor had made this wall. And if he could make it, she could tear it down.
Vhalla raised her hands slowly, shifting her magic. She thought of the crystal forces she had felt, of the madman’s magic lying underneath it. She loathed the moment foreign magic churned within her, responding, bubbling up through her hands. Vhalla grimaced.
Pure energy flew from her fingertips to the center of the gate. It was shapeless and colorless. The only time Vhalla had seen magic of its nature was in the North and in the Crystal Caverns.
Aldrik’s lips parted, and he looked away from the cracking gate. He focused only on her as the earth cried out in a monumental groan. He’d recognized the sorcery. It had been used on him as well. The Emperor shook his head slowly, horror spinning panic within his eyes. He knew, he had to know what now existed within her.
“To kill a monster, you must become one yourself.” It was all she could confess to the man she loved. Deep within her, rage spiraled out of control. Victor knew what she had done and could feel what it meant.
“Vhalla—” Her name on Aldrik’s lips was a pained and strangled whine.
“There’s no time now.” Vhalla turned back to the gate. Cracks raced to be the first to the top. Large stones began to loosen and fall as the magic of the crystals faded and fell dormant. The gate crumbled, and the whole wall began to topple like dominos following. “We have a war to fight.”
“Later.” He grabbed her forearm. Her resolve cracked at the wild concern in his eyes. “This will not just fade away unspoken.”
“Later.” Vhalla tried to coax her voice into being as gentle as possible, which was difficult when a foreign feeling of loathing began to mix with the cries of battle.
Aldrik pulled away, jaw clenched and brow furrowed. He turned sharply toward the startled encampment on the other side of the gate and rained fire down on the enemy. Vhalla’s eyes were alight with the flames as she heard the symphony of dying screams.
Kicking Lightning’s sides, Vhalla rushed to the head of the charge. For the first time in her life, it was she who raced forward with an army at her back. Vhalla held out her right hand and swept it to the side before quickly repeating the process with the left. The rubble cleared for those behind her, making a path along the Great Imperial Way.
Victor’s monsters and men were fending off the inferno Aldrik reaped upon them. The fire vanished when she crossed the line where the wall had been moments before.
“Swear fealty to the Solaris Empire, and you will be spared!” she cried. “Strike an ‘X’ into the black of your armor or clothes so that we may know who stands with the sun!”
“Long live the Supreme King Victor!” one sorcerer spat.
He didn’t have time to even raise his hand before an icicle impaled him. Vhalla glanced over her shoulder, looking for Fritz.
One or two of Victor’s soldiers attempted to accept her offer, hastily scratching a large ‘X’ onto their makeshift armor. It was an army enslaved, and their loyalty only went so far. But these had mostly become Victor’s men. Whatever the false king had promised must have been tempting, because more sorcerers quickly turned on their allies, killing any who would try to return their loyalty to Solaris.
Vhalla kept charging forward. At the least, they could use the momentary confusion to their advantage. But for every one conscious sorcerer, there were five more tainted, mad, and under Victor’s control. Her attempt had been made, but it was a fairly futile one.
Fire combusted by her side, and Vhalla barely had enough time to ditch the horse and roll. The smell of singed fur assaulted her senses, but she had more pressing matters than checking if her trusty steed was well. A sorcerer was upon her. With a gleaming sharp ice dagger, he slashed into the ground by her face.
Vhalla threw up an arm, and he flew backward. Just as she stood, a heavy greave kneed her in the face, shattering her nose. She was an easy target in white and Vhalla was quickly learning why nobility didn’t usually lead charges.
She coughed up blood, surprised she had not lost any teeth or bit her tongue off. Just a laceration inside her cheek. A heartbeat began to race at the edge of her consciousness. It was both familiar and terribly different at the same time, and she struggled to fight it. It was an unwanted and unwelcome sound, a rhythm that beat to the drums of war and bloodlust.
The man with the ice had recovered and was lunging again. With a cry that was part animal, Vhalla thrust a hand onto his face, dodging the other man’s second punch. Blood splattered the ground as the Waterrunner’s head exploded.
She spun, wind under her toes, making her nimble. Making her powerful.
Her sword rang out against its sheathe, reverberating up her arms and into her chest. The sound echoed in harmony with the pulse that propelled her. She would write their requiem
in blood. There was minimal resistance as Vhalla put the wind at her elbows to shove her blade clear through the man’s skull, starting with his eye.
Vhalla kicked him off her blade. Laughter rasped against the inside of her throat. They would all die. Any who opposed her were weak. This was the only truth of the world. The weak would die to form the foundation of the world, the world the strong would inherit. A beautifully, wonderfully, chaotic world. It was only nature.
She turned her head, and, at her behest, lightning crackled across a sorcerer’s flesh. He shuddered, his eyes lolling in their sockets as his body became coated in burn marks that quickly turned black. He fell dead, and Vhalla turned for her next victim. It was as though the battle moved slowly for her. She saw every pulse of magic from the sorcerers and from the tainted. Each flash of weaponry was seen in perfect clarity.
She was death itself. No, she was stronger than death. She had beaten death twice! That made it hers to administer. Her body moved without thought, reckless and wild.
A pair of arms closed around her torso.
“Vhalla,” Jax’s voice hissed in her ear. “Vhalla, enough.”
She blinked the haze from her mind. The familiar call of her name pulled her back to the present, like waking from a dream. The battlefield had changed from her prior recollections. The last of the soldiers had fallen, their victory apparent. Vhalla panted heavily, trying to make sense of it.
Turning her, his palms on her shoulders as though he would need to physically hold her in place, Jax checked her up and down. A frown weighed on the corners of his lips.
“What did I do?” she breathed.
His scowl only deepened at her question. “We should get you to Elecia; she’ll heal you up.”
Vhalla followed dutifully, noticing her feet when she followed behind the Western man. It was as though she had bathed in blood. The white of her armor was coated and splatted in bits of gore. Soldiers stared. Some began to cheer, but others looked at her with a touch of fear.