Fallen Kingdom (Fallen Trilogy book 2) Read online

  With a frown of distaste I looked back out over the battlefield.

  Just one of many.

  CHAPTER TWO

  ELLIA:

  “But how could they have attacked again without any of the chimera being there?” I asked, my fists clenching in desperation.

  I was standing in the center of the Warriors’ chamber, back on Yanartas. Three of the first-order Warriors’, including Elminster, Lodan, and Baraduce (who had just returned from Ghaund) sat around me in their high chamber seats.

  “They must have come from the homeland,” said Lodan. “Since the wyverns have been flying in from the Peaks of Geryon, we have no way of knowing where they’ll appear next. We concentrated on protecting the Ghaundian capitol and what settlements we could. We defeated many goblins, but… Unfortunately most of the Akadians were with the wyverns when they attacked the western crag.”

  Baraduce slammed his fist on the table. “Fools! If the Ghaundians would do as we say and collect their people in one place, we could protect them.”

  “If only,” Lodan echoed. “Sadly we Warrior’s don’t seem to have the pull we once did to convince them of our strategies.”

  “We’ve protected them enough in the past summer, haven’t we?” Baraduce went on. “If not for us, the Akadian’s would have destroyed the lot of them. They should do as we say before they all fall to Akadia.”

  “Speaking of that. Ellia,” Lodan interrupted, “Gael mentioned that you would try again to sway the Demecedian rulers. From your silence on the subject, I assume it did not go well?”

  I felt a deep weight of guilt. Then I went on to explain their negative reaction, even in light of Prince Nain’s presence.

  “To the depths with them then,” swore Baraduce, “We’ll leave them to the Akadians and wait till they beg for our assistance.”

  “If we waited for that, I think we’d more likely end up facing them on the Akadians side,” said Lodan,” with them still assimilating foreigners as the war continues. Every captive they take becomes a potential enemy.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said, biting hard on my lip. “I should have been able to sway them.”

  Lodan frowned, but Elminster spoke.

  “No one expects you to, Princess,” he said, in his slow, rhythmic voice. “Kingdoms will do what they must. It is enough that we help them.”

  “But what if they fall to Akadia?” I asked.

  Elminster thought about this, touching a finger to his lips. “Then I think we will find that Master Baraduce Nar is right when he says they will regret their decisions.”

  I frowned. Though Elminster spoke calmly, it felt more dire to me than that. It was dire. Alright, it was true that very few chimera were dying, especially now that only first order warriors fought the wyverns—Akadian soldiers simply weren’t capable of taking down flying beasts and we’d long since learned how to avoid and quickly dispose of the harpoon contraptions. But I didn’t want to see the other countries destroyed, particularly not when it meant I’d grow even farther from ever saving my people.

  “In any case,” said Lodan, “Elminster and I will be going back to Democedes in your place. You and Gael have been too long gone from Yanartas. Your chimera need time on the Isle or they won’t be good for any warring.”

  Lodan Falster’s expression left no room for argument. I knew it was true anyways. It wasn’t just us, all of the Warriors had to come back periodically, switching out positions in the countries, for otherwise the chimera grew weak and ill.

  I nodded.

  #

  When I exited the Warriors’ Chamber, the fresh breeze of Yanartas swept over me. I could hear the ocean waves breaking in the distance; the cries of seagulls filled the air. Now that it was fall, the trees of Yanartas had begun to turn colors. Leaves periodically fell, they decorated the deck around me now. Gael stood nearby with Yurei, speaking with three of his fellow warriors. Even though many of the Warriors had gone to fight, the constant switching back and forth to rest chimera (not to mention the resident Yanartians) kept the complex busy.

  Gael waved a hand at me. “Have you been to see Lucian yet?” he called.

  “No. Why?”

  “He’s about to leave with your friend Estrid Larke. They’re on the south platform. They told Luffie to tell you,” he added.

  I narrowed my eyes, then turned to Luffie. She had her dusky-gold head cocked away from me, high and jutted, clearly feigning ignorance. With a sniff she glanced at me tersely.

  She forgot that I knew what she was thinking; or as it was, feeling.

  Ever since Estrid had bonded with her pink and cream chimera, Tris (one of the most definable families of cream chimeras from the volcano), Lucian’s chimera, Arrin, had taken a liking to her. A liking to Tris, not Luffie. And while Luffie had never expressed an attraction to Arrin before that, she didn’t do well with being left out, or un-preferred. It didn’t seem to matter to her that neither of them ever excluded her from anything.

  Without a word from me, she started walking along the bridge that led towards the south platform, each of her steps snootily denying that she felt anything on the matter.

  I grinned wide and ran after her, overcome with delight for her personality—even if it was a little silly.

  When we reached the south platform, Tris and Arrin were standing with a group of four other chimera. A half-dozen Warriors roamed about, most of them collecting weapons. My black-haired, sea-faring friend, Estrid Larke was standing with a five-foot long sword in her grip. To no surprise of mine, it was aimed towards my second order, first-ranked trainer, Lucian Denathar.

  Luffie ambled over to Tris while I walked to my friends. Lucian saw me first and got a nod off, but his reaction caused Estrid to swing in my direction and he had to duck in a hurry to avoid being hit with the massive sword.

  “Ellia!” Estrid greeted with a smile. “We’re so glad you’re back. Tris was beginning to worry about Luffie.”

  “How is she doing with her fire-breath?” Lucian asked, in true trainer’s form.

  “Very well,” I replied. “Gael says she’s a natural. She does well enough against Akadians.”

  “How was Democedes?” he asked. “Did the rulers…”

  I shook my head before he could ask it. He frowned, but I shrugged it off. “What about Selket? How did you two do?”

  Lucian crossed his arms. “The scorpios are another thing entirely. They’re remarkable against the Akadians’ cavalry. And without the wyverns, well, we’ve been nearly invincible in the skies.”

  Scorpios were the Selkian granted animals, the only country out of the three eastern kingdoms to possess one. True to their name, they looked like giant scorpions. They reminded me a little too much of the over-sized arachnids Minstrel and I had almost been killed by for my taste.

  “Sadly, Tris is deadly frightened of the scorpios,” Lucian went on.

  Estrid lowered her sword to glare at Lucian, jaw wide. “I seem to remember Arrin being more skittish than her.”

  I looked over at Arrin and Tris, who were watching playful Luffie attempt to walk along the top of the railing. Arrin wore a slightly disapproving expression that matched his master well, while Tris’ features reflected something between awe and nervousness. I decided that both of them could very well have been afraid of scorpios.

  “What about your sword?” I asked Estrid; interrupting what was almost another fight between her and Lucian. “Are you taking it out again? It must be your Cirali weapon then.”

  Estrid frowned.

  “No, this isn’t the same type,” she said. She raised the sword in the air, causing Lucian to duck back once more. “The one I tried before was a great-sword. And a flambard after that. This is a claymore.” She gave it two test swings. She had to hold on tight with both hands and plant her feet to even move it.

  “They look sort of the same,” I said.

  “They nearly are,” Lucian stressed. “All too long, too heavy, and too clumsy for a woman of her size t
o wield. I’m trying to convince her not to take it into Loone.”

  “Loone?” I repeated, glancing around the platform of Warriors. “Is that where you’re going. What’s happened?”

  Estrid dropped her sword. “Father’s finally convinced the town to rebel. Once I and master “first-rank” here fly there, we’re going to form a strategy. The Akadians have had the boats quarantined for some time, but our plan is to free enough to help the citizens of Loone escape.”

  “Will they come here?” I asked.

  While Estrid nodded, Lucian said, “It hasn’t been decided yet.”

  Estrid rolled her eyes and mouthed a “yes” to me.

  I smiled.

  “Master Lucian,” one of his Warriors’ called, “the group is ready to fly out.”

  Lucian nodded, all business.

  Due to the fact that the Cirali were so spread out, high-ranking, second order, Warriors like Lucian led groups of third or second order Warriors. This was why Gael now directed his own battles, whereas before he would have served as Lucian’s second. Now I was Gael’s second, and more often than not, Estrid flew with Lucian.

  Lucian gave Estrid a look that said she’d better hurry, then pointed at me. “I expect you to still be here when we get back. And take Luffie to the summit.”

  I nodded.

  He waved and walked towards Arrin. Estrid hefted up her claymore, resting it over her shoulder. “Wish me luck, princess,” she said.

  “Estrid, where are you even going to put that?” I laughed.

  She trudged off towards Tris. Ever attentive, Tris slipped close as soon as Estrid was near. Luffie likewise came to stand by me. Estrid made a show of sliding the claymore into the back of Tris’ harness, so that it sat perpendicular to the ground and could easily be pulled out.

  I shook my head, laughing. “I really think you should listen to Lucian and try something smaller.

  Estrid scoffed. “If I should listen to Lucian Denethar once, there’s no telling what might come of it. I’ll take my chances with my own sword.”

  Lucian and Arrin were already in the sky, calling the Warriors.

  “Good luck,” I told Estrid. “Be careful.”

  She looked back at me with a smirk, her pale skin as bright as the sky around her. “When I get back, remind me to tell you something, alright?”

  I nodded. She turned to the sky, Tris’ wings spreading out delicately, then they raced out in front of Arrin.

  #

  I found my dearest friend, Minstrel of Gilgatrox, in the armory far below the complex of Yanartas. Since the wars had started, he was often to be found here. He had become quite the smith and a sort of inventor as well.

  I passed the head blacksmith, Garin, with a wave; he pointed me on to Minstrel, who was working at the back of the shop. My gnome friend stood in front of the forge on a stool, holding a pair of tongs out over the coals. His three-foot form was weighed down with his usual leather armor and straps of odds and ends. Some sort of helmet was protecting his face.

  I dropped my elbows to the counter beside him, leaning in. “What are you doing there?” I asked.

  Minstrel jerked at my voice, then he set his tongs down and lifted the front of his helmet up so that I could see his oil-smudged face. He wore a smile as wide as mine.

  #

  Two hours later we were still in the armory together, though now in the basement section, where Minstrel did most his work.

  “Well I did try to write a song at least,” I defended, while Minstrel and I laughed at my attempts to describe my eastern battles in rhyme.

  “No matter,” Minstrel sang, “with a little work I should be able to transcribe it into a wondrously epic battle sonnet.”

  “I don’t doubt your skills, Minstrel.”

  We sat on stools, surrounding by workbenches. A number of gadgets and inventions, not to mention his usually stacks of song laden parchments, sat atop them. Along with his armory duties, Minstrel had taken on deciphering many of the mysterious dangers generated by the wars, including native threats, such as magical monsters, and inventions used against us by the Akadians. For instance, Minstrel had been the one to discover how to reverse the effects of the Akadians’ magic-dispelling stones by breaking them—which had resulted in Minstrel acquiring the powers of a Selkian fire-mage for one very eventful day. He’d promptly transferred them to a dispel-stone, which was then returned to its Selkian owner.

  “Speaking of skills,” Minstrel squeaked, “have you discovered your Cirali weapon yet?”

  I lifted one corner of my mouth dismally. “No. I’ve just been using a sword still. I’m worse with anything else I try.”

  “Perhaps the sword is your weapon then.” He laughed. “I can think of a good many renowned heroes who used little more.”

  “I suppose,” I drawled, “It’s just, compared to the way Gael is with his mace, or the way Lucian is with his crossbow…”

  “Oh yes,” Minstrel agreed, “Master Denethar is greatly impressive with his crossbow. I wish that I might more often see him in active battle.”

  “It’s a sight, just as much when he uses his crossbow, as when the Akadian’s part before him.” I paused. “That’s why he’s fighting in Selket now, you know, instead of Ghaund, because there are more Akadians. They still react to his appearance.” I thought of Tobias, the late Captain of Akadia, with a sting of grief.

  Probably because of the war, Lucian had not asked me about his death yet as he’d promised he would. I was glad he hadn’t; as we grew closer I feared all the more now what it would mean. “I can’t think of what it must be like for him, Minstrel,” I went on. “He seems well enough, but it must be so impossibly hard, fighting against his own father’s kingdom, a father that he’s never met.”

  Minstrel sighed. He plucked a few strings on the lyre beside him. There was a long moment of silence, then I felt his hand drop over mine. He patted it reassuringly. “Don’t worry, lady Ellia. So long as the Warriors fight for the eastern kingdoms, they will prevail against Akadia. The chimera are far too invincible.”

  “Yes. I know you’re right,” I said.

  But for some reason It felt daunting.

  CYRIC:

  I walked along the streets of Karatel, having just settled Tosch in his stable. He’d immediately gone to sleep, falling onto his side in the hay as he liked to (as no normal horse ever would). I couldn’t blame him though; we’d ridden through the night to get here. My division trailed behind with the captives and wouldn’t arrive for another day.

  Soldiers roamed all round, carrying weapons, leading captives from the eastern kingdoms. Karatel had become everything that a first defensive fort should be. It had sickbays for injured soldiers. Large emptied buildings for sleeping quarters. Stables for the horses, but of course Karatel had also had those by the hundreds. And then warehouses, reserved for the captives and spoils that would be periodically sent on to Akadia.

  Any soldiers on the road that passed me either gave me a respectful bow or averted their eyes completely. I found the armory beside the palace. The soldier guarding the door let me in without question. I took the dark steps down three levels, underground. I was too used to the descent to be slowed down by the fact that it was pitch black to me.

  Finally, I saw the acid green glow that distinguished Bellerophon’s laboratory from the rest of the armory. When I arrived in the room, other lights and torches lit the dank space. Some blue, some red, some too bright to be natural fire. Lox’s large form stood on the opposite end, close to Bellerophon’s forge. Bellerophon himself—an unnaturally muscular Taeplian with an affinity for all the skill in invention that his country was famous for—worked close beside him.

  I took two steps that echoed loudly in the tight, stone-bricked, chamber and Lox looked my direction. He grew a wide, pleased, smile, the type I was accustomed to receiving whenever I came back from battle. “Cyric, I didn’t expect you until tomorrow.”

  “I didn’t wait for my division. Artor
as was with them.” Artoras was one of Scanth’s Lieutenants; he’d been fighting with me in Ghaund, even though Scanth was stationed back in Akadia. “We got news that there was trouble in Karatel.” I stopped close to where they were working, beside the only regularly lit torch. From what I could spot of Bellerophon’s work, he was smelting something over the forge.

  “Karatel,” Lox confirmed, “and Democedes as well. That fool Venoc couldn’t be making worse decisions. He’s lost all the ground the wyverns helped him gain before they went back to Ghaund… But Democedes is of little consequence compared with Selket. So long as he keeps them occupied. Once we’ve dealt with the Selkians, we might be able to use the scorpios against the other countries.”

  “I thought things aren’t going well in Selket,” I said. “Not since the wyverns had to return to Geryon.”

  Lox lifted one brow. He gestured to Bellerophon, who was holding his tongs over a basin of water. “That’s something we hope to change.” Bellerophon opened the tongs and let the metal object they were holding fall in the water. A cloud of steam rose up and the water bubbled. Then he grabbed another instrument and scooped the metal object out of the pool. It looked like a simple brick, but silver, or perhaps lead; dark and light greys were swirled in together. He held it out wordlessly for Lox’s inspection. I tried not to make a face; somehow I couldn’t imagine how a brick—particularly such a clumsily large one—was going to do much good against scorpios. Lox waved a hand of dismissal or approval, and Bellerophon went back to work.

  “So do you want me to go to Selket?” I asked.

  Lox moved away from the forge; I followed. “No. I have another job for you. Like you heard, there’s trouble in Karatel. We’ve lost communication with one of the coastal towns, known as Loone. I sent a small company there to investigate, but they probably haven’t arrived yet and I’d prefer it if you were with them when they did. If the town rebelled, it’s possible the Cirali are involved. I don’t trust them to know how to handle it.”

  “I shouldn’t wait for my division then?”