Bertrice Small - The Twilight Lord

“I would rather die with my own sword in my hand than face the Twilight Lord with my failure,” Hrolleif said.

“So be it,” Lara told him. They began to battle in earnest.

He was a good opponent. He was strong but Lara was quicker and, Hrolleif soon realized, far more skilled than he was. He was astounded by her expertise. For every blow he offered, she blocked him. Twice she blooded him. Her sword sang as it tasted his flesh. He had never imagined that any woman could be so fine a warrior. But he fought on, for to yield to a woman was simply unthinkable. About them the fighting slowly stopped as both sides watched the two battle. The other Wolfyn were shocked that their commander would even engage a woman in battle, but they could see Lara was no ordinary warrior. The sound of metal on metal resounded loudly about the battlefield. Hrolleif was visibly tiring. He stumbled over his own feet and Lara stepped back to allow him to regain them. If it had been her, Hrolleif thought, I would have killed her. He struggled to his feet. He could feel his heart laboring hard in his chest cavity. He was near his end-he sensed it. Then an icy chill went down the backs of both friend and foe as the mighty sword Andraste began to sing once again.

“I am Andraste. Yield to the swordswoman, Lara of Terah, Hrolleif of the Dark Land. Yield or die! I am Andraste, and I am prepared to drink your blood, oh servant of the evil one! Yield or die!”

Lara fought the high commander of the Wolfyn fiercely, driving him to his knees. Then their eyes met in complete understanding and she quickly thrust Andraste into Hrolleif’s heart and as quickly withdrew it. He fell forward and his second raced to his side to seek a pulse. There was none. Suddenly all the Wolfyn raised their heads to the dark skies and howled. A moment later, however, the full battle was renewed. None would dare fight the faerie woman, so she withdrew to the platform within the open gates of The City and watched as the ground was flooded in blood, until every Wolfyn lay dead, caught between the army before them and the one behind, which had advanced from the Coastal Province.

When the last of the enemy had been slain the skies opened and a heavy rain came down on the battlefield. The downpour was so thick that they could see nothing of what had been. When it ended, the clouds fled northward and the skies became a clear bright blue and the sun shone down on them so that they saw all signs of the carnage were gone. There were no bodies to be seen. The tremulous voice of Gaius Prospero was heard as he came down from his throne to peer about. “Where are the bodies?”

“The magic kingdoms have taken them,” Lara said. “You will find those slain Hetarians in a newly created graveyard to the west of The City where their kin may come and pay their respects.”

“And the Terahns?” the emperor quavered.

“Our casualties were as bad as yours, Gaius Prospero, perhaps worse. Our people are not martial by nature. A great deal of Terahn blood has been shared to save Hetar and keep it safe. Remember that, for Hetar now owes Terah a debt. We will want to collect on that debt one day.”

Gaius Prospero nodded slowly in reply. Then he turned to address a slender young boy who had run up to where they stood. “What is it?” the emperor asked impatiently.

“I must speak with the lady Lara,” the boy said. To Lara’s eye there was something familiar about him.

“What is it, lad?” she asked him gently.

The boy’s face suddenly crumpled and he began to weep. “S…Sister,” he sobbed. “Our father is dead. Our father has been slain in the battle.” Then he flung himself at her and Lara’s arms closed automatically about him.

“Mikhail?” Her arms tightened around the boy.

His tear-stained face looked up at her and he nodded.

“You were an infant when I left Hetar,” Lara said. “And I know that your mother told you nothing about me. How did you know I was your sister?”

“Father told me,” the boy said low. “He was proud of you, but my mother is a jealous woman.”

“How came you here on the battlefield, Little Brother? And how do you know our father was killed?”

“He was beginning my training in warfare,” Mikhail said, his voice trembling as he spoke. “I awaited him on the edge of the battlefield with an extra sword and a mace. I saw him fall from his horse. When he tried to rise, a Wolfyn leapt upon him and slew him. Then his body disappeared as the battle ended. John Swiftsword, Hetar’s greatest swordsman, is dead, Sister.”

Lara stroked his nut-brown hair. “You must be the man of the family now, Mikhail. Susanna will need you. Be good to her. You will find our father’s grave, marked with his name, in the new graveyard west of The City. He rests upon the highest point there.” Then she tipped his face up so she might look into his eyes. “If you should ever need me, Mikhail, son of Swiftsword, you have but to call my name and I will come to you, for we share blood between us.” She kissed his cheek. “Go.”

The boy gave her a tremulous smile, then turned and walked away. Lara looked again at the emperor. “We will take our dead and be gone.”

“Now my people and I will bid you farewell, Gaius Prospero. Do not attempt to venture into Terah again. Let things return to the way they were between us, emperor of Hetar,” Magnus Hauk said in a stern voice.

A mighty clap of thunder shook the entire city and the Dominus of Terah, his wife, his soldiers and the Terahn dead disappeared. A gasp arose from those still present, then it was silent.

Finally Lord Jonah spoke. “My lord emperor, I believe the entertainment is now over. You will want to return to your palace.” He helped Gaius Prospero up.

“Yes, yes,” the emperor said. “Where is Shifra?”

“I am here, my dear lord,” the young empress said as she escorted her husband to their elegant gold litter. “I will see he is made comfortable, Lord Jonah.” Then at her signal the imperial litter was quickly borne off.

Vilia came to her husband’s side. “It has been a full day, my lord, has it not?”

“Why were you at Lady Gillian’s?” he surprised her by asking.

“She was alone and I was alone. She asked me to remain. I was glad to do so as you were gone, our servants had scattered into hiding and the streets are not safe at night,” Vilia said quietly. “Would you have preferred I walk home to an empty house in the dark, Jonah, my love?”

“How did you and Gillian hold off the Wolfyn?” he demanded to know. “I have heard naught but how brave you were, my wife, in seeking out the guard.”

“Then you know that three Wolfyn gained entry into Gillian’s home through one of the old tunnels beneath The City,” Vilia told him. Be careful, her instinct warned her. “There was no one in the house but Gillian’s baker. They killed her and then found us in Gillian’s apartment. Stupid creatures! They had heard of Pleasure Women, and were impressed by Gillian’s manners and elegance. She pretended I was her sister and sent me for wine and restoratives.”

“And they let you go alone?” Jonah asked. “Then they were indeed stupid.”

“Nay, they sent one of their number as my escort. He came behind me. As we reached the bottom of the staircase in the main hall I spied a thin brass vase. I grabbed it, swung about and hit the beast with it several times. Then I fled from the house and found the guards.”

“Did you kill it, Vilia?” Jonah asked softly.

“Nay, he was still alive when the guards returned. They delivered the death blow, my lord,” Vilia told him.

He took her face between his thumb and his forefinger. “Were you ravished, Vilia? Do not lie to me, for I will know if you do,” he said in even softer tones.