Twisted is the crown

Quillion IV

EVER SINCE FATHER DIED, THINGS have progressively been getting worse and worse. Not even twenty minutes ago Deyko died at my hand, now Mitaldra has returned to finish what she started.

The floors of the palace are strewn with dead bodies and burnt corpses. Outside, a Fikawa rests on the turret of the highest tower, watching the ground down below with keen intent. I shouldn’t have left. I should have stayed with Lahle and Ahelo, fought side by side with my people.

Deyko’s face in death haunts me. His veined, open eyes. His partially parted lips. The look of fear he gave me in the seconds before, a walking corpse. Maybe I should’ve let him win. Maybe I should’ve died.

My feet glide over blood stained marble as I make my way to the bunker under the palace. I walk down a short flight of stairs and turn a corner and meet Ahelo and Lahle running towards me. Lahle wraps her hands around me and hugs me tight, and after a moment of hesitation I hug her back.

“I was so scared.” Not surprisingly, I’m still stammering. “I just...I couldn’t. I kept seeing Deyko’s face and I just...I had to get away.” “I understand.” Lahle sighs.

“I don’t.” Ahelo rolls his eyes. “What if they killed you on your way here, Quillion? You are who she’s after. If you die, thousands of innocent people follow.”

“Ahelo.” Lahle tries to stop him, but I hold her hand. She turns back to me, pupils darting.

“He’s right. I shouldn’t have left. Gaia comes first now. Not me. Not what I feel.”

Lahle reluctantly nods as another figure turns the corner to meet us. Doregan walks forward, bleeding from her lips and arm. For her age, she’s a remarkably good fighter.

“Mitaldra’s men are not here,” Doregan says, “But I have reason to believe Mitaldra is. She’s somewhere in this palace.”

“Then we kill her.” Lahle says, twisting her sword in her hands. “I’m tired of letting that witch roam free.”

“I will let the guards handle that.” Doregan says. “You must leave now.”

Ahelo holds his mother’s hand. “If I go, you follow me.”

“Ahelo—”

“No other options.”

Doregan purses her lips in anger, but nods. “Fine. Chenga is Gaia’s closest ally, both in relations and in distance. That’s where we go.”

I close my eyes, trying to calm my emotions. Last night, there was still a possibility for peace. Last night, there was still an inkling of a chance that the people of Gaia would not suffer. Now, today, their fates are sealed.

“What about our legion?” I ask. “They never came.”

“Mitaldra’s men and two Fikawa surrounded the Feyre barracks. Our men and our Fikawa are fighting there. A whole other battle. They will not be of help.” Doregan says.

“What about the barracks in Oryon? Tyleon? Vaegon?” Lahle says, obviously panicked. “I know its our best option but we certainly can’t just run away.”

“It will take hours before they get here, Lahle. We cant rely on help from other states.” Doregan replies. “Our best bet is getting to get to Chenga. We figure out what to do next with a clearer mind.” Reluctantly, the three of us nod.

I turn around, sheathing my sword when I hear a pair of footsteps—actually, two— walking into the hall behind us. Even without turning I feel the tension in the hallway rise, and a dark shadow creeps across the silver walls.

“Mitaldra,” I say, turning around. The mad queen stands before us, armed, her gold armour darkened by an odd shadow streaming across the walls. Lahle’s face tenses as she grabs the hilt of her sword. I notice Ahelo holding her hands.

Then, another pair of feet appear behind the wall. With this person the darkness shifts, shrouding his carved features and cat like eyes in shadow.

“Who are you?” I ask, but he doesn’t say a word.

I stare at the mad queen. She maintains her mask. Jaw clenched, lips pressed into a thin, unforgiving line. Still fingers, straight back. But her gaze wavers. Something in her eyes has gone far away. And at her collar, the slightest red flush rises, painting her neck and the tips of her ears.

She’s terrified.

For a second, it makes me happy. Then I remember―monsters are most dangerous when they're afraid.

“I will not ask again,” I say, stepping forward to protect Lahle, Doregan and Ahelo. If I couldn’t be with them on the battlefield, I’ll be with them now. I’ll protect them now.

The man steps forward, resting a hand on Mitaldra’s shoulder. She flinches, retreating into her armour like a turtle into its shell. Whoever he is, he has control over Mitaldra. She’s afraid of him.

“Look,” he grabs the queen’s shoulders. His lips do not move, but I see

Mitaldra’s eyes glass over, like she’s listening to something. The fear bleeds out of her face, replaced by nothing. Her expression is blank as an empty parchment.

“Run.” I say, stepping back. “Run!”

Mitaldra pushes her fist forward, and raw, intense energy shoots out of it. The light is blindingly beautiful, and luckily we dive out of the way just fast enough for it to slam against the floor of the stairwell behind us. We hear rocks falling and stone exploding as Doregan whispers into our ears.

“Run, and don’t look back.”

Through the blinding light we race for our lives. Down the halls of the palace, through endless stairwells and doors. When we are two floors from the ground, Lahle stops in her tracks.

Ahelo turns. “What is it? We have to keep moving.” “Aaliyah.” Lahle says, stepping back. Her Fikawa.

“You have to leave it.” I say. “We don’t have more time to waste—”

“I am not leaving Aaliyah to die.” She says, turning around and running back up the stairs to her chamber. I don’t even have the heart to be angry at her. She loves that Fikawa almost as much as she loves herself.

“Do we just wait for her?” Doregan mutters. “You people will be the death of me...”

A few minutes later Lahle returns, the snarling Fikawa in hand. From the pane glass window behind the stairs I can see Mitaldra’s men heading for the palace. Its now or never.

“Lets get the hell out of here.” Ahelo says, pushing open the ornate double doors of the palace and leading us to the carriage I hid behind a large bushel.

As I’m about to board the carriage, a dusty hand grabs my own. I turn, instinctively pulling out my blade, but then I realise it’s a girl. A young girl from the looks of it. She’s not wearing any armour, and her pale skin and ink black hair is stained with blood—and I’m not sure if its hers or not.

“Is…” she gulps, “Is there space in the carriage? Please. I beg. I don’t have any money, but I’ll pay you back somehow, just please let me in. Please.” She tugs on my arm.

“Girl.” Doregan peers at her from inside the carriage. The wind picks up speed as she looks up at the old woman, eyes glossy with unshed tears. Doregan sighs. “Come inside. Hurry.”

The girl smiles, wrapping her scarf around her head and rushing in after me.

Outside, the darkened sky gives way to storm. The wind screams more than howls. Rain falls as stones. The trees bend and moan in wrath enough to scare the gods, branches torn like paper limbs. This storm, more wicked than any in living memory, is watched through debris that tumbles in the vortices, heavy like lead, destroying anything and everything, avenging those lost in battle.

The rest of the guards and knights make their escape from the palace as we do, yet another storm of pale stallions and gold carriages. As ours leaves the now demolished stone walls of the palace, one of the Fikawa roars, the sound reverberating in my ears like thunder.

“YOU STILL HAVE IT?” LAHLE asks, looking at the bump in my pockets. I dig through them and bring out father’s worn chess piece. I had already forgotten about this.

Lahle tries to fake a smile, but cant. Even though we’re a good one hour away from the ruins of the water tribe palace, the tension still hangs over us like a cloth. The girl—like I had expected—is already asleep.

No matter what we do now, Gaia will see war. Innocent people will die.

“This was not how today was meant to go.” Ahelo says, arms folded. Its the second sentence that’s been spoken since we left the palace, and even still, the blanket tightening around us does not release.

“All those people...” I sigh. “So many corpses...”

Doregan rips off a bit of her dress and wipes at her blood with it. Outside the tinted window, the mountains rush by almost in a blur and the sun slowly sets down below them.

“There will be more corpses.” The old woman says, defeated. “There will be more blood. Mitaldra has lit the fires of war.”

“There has to be a way to stop her.” Lahle says. “And whoever that man with her was.”

“She was afraid of him.” I say. “I noticed it in her eyes. But then, strangely, they went dark.”

“The man?”

“No.” I reply to Lahle. “Her eyes. Mitaldra. It was almost like she was being…..controlled.”

The old woman’s eyes widen in a mix of realization and fear. She looks up from her lap, eyes locking with mine. “Impossible. That’s—no. No. That’s impossible.”

“Mitaldra isn’t stupid, mother.” Ahelo chimes in. “What Quillion is saying makes sense. Mitaldra wouldn’t use raw magic in the middle of a fight. It drains too much energy. It would leave her defenceless and vulnerable.”

“Nobody has possessed that ability in hundreds of years.” Doregan says. “I thought it was merely a story.”

“What was merely a story, Doregan?” I ask. “Out with it.”

She stammer as she speaks. “Peyrian Biord.”

Lahle’s eyes dart to mine, then back to Doregan. She shifts in her seat. “The guy with all the isiya? That’s an Iahna folktale.”

“As far as I know.” Ahelo finishes her statement, and soon all eyes are on Doregan. She squirms as she speaks. “Many of the elders believed it to be a lie.

Whispering into one’s mind, controlling it, was far too high of an isiya to receive. It was thought to be too painful for a mere mortal to go through.” Somehow, the tension in the room grows thicker.

“But according to the stories, Peyrian Biord was trapped—”

“If he was trapped, he’s certainly not trapped now.” Ahelo cuts Lahle off. “The question is, where was he trapped?”

Doregan stammers. “He wasn’t on the battlefield with Mitaldra, which means he didn’t arrive with her army.” A few seconds pass before her eyes light up again. “There was always one door in the palace that was off limits to everyone, including myself. I’ve never been down there.”

“You think—”

“Its wholly possible.” Doregan cuts me off. “But if Peyrian Biord is real and back, then the ten kingdoms must be prepared for many truly dark days ahead.”