90. Those Willing to Die
Chapter 90
Those Willing to Die
24 th Day of the Blood Moon
South of Achyron’s Keep – Winter, Year 3081 After Doom
“Rise.” Alina squeezed the handles of her saddle as Rynvar bolted upwards, the air attempting to rip her from his back. The buckles strapped to her hip pulled and jangled with the wyvern’s flight.
Below, the army was setting up camp a day’s march from Achyron’s Keep. Shrieks rang out all around her as wyverns soared through the sky, their scales glinting in a myriad of colours as the sun hung high. The creatures were restless after leaving the camp they had settled in for so long.
She lifted her right hand and signalled for the patrols to head out, instructing the others to land and hunt. Feeding this many wyverns while moving across the land was no easy task. Staying a short flight from the coast was the only true solution. Fish were the only food source plentiful enough to not cause logistical issues, and as it happened wyverns were natural ocean hunters.
As the other Wyndarii dispersed, Alina stayed airborne with Mera, Lukira, and Amari, taking one last circuit around the perimeter. They’d already found some of Loren’s scouts prowling about earlier that morning. The less knowledge Loren had on Alina’s movements the better position they would be in. After sweeping the perimeter, Alina and her wing-sisters alighted near the command tent.
“Stay close,” she said, running her hands along the scales of Rynvar’s snout after dismounting.
The wyvern gave a soft purr and pressed the tip of his snout into Alina’s chest.
She laughed, scratching under his jaw. “Go,” she said, pushing his snout away.
Rynvar, Audin, Syndel, and Urin all took flight as their riders made for the command tent.
“My queen.” Both Olivian and Savrin inclined their heads from where they waited at the tent’s entrance.
“The patrol was clear?” Savrin asked as they entered the command tent.
Alina nodded in response.
“I’ll have fifty Wyndarii patrolling night and day.” Mera unbuckled her helmet, holding it in the crook of her arm. “Nothing alive will get within ten miles of this camp without us knowing. Mistakes can be made once, never twice.”
A long table was already set in the centre of the tent, cups and bottles of wine laid out, candles flickering. Six more of Alina’s Royal Guard stood about the tent with backs rigid, hands resting on their sword pommels. The remaining two – Alcon and Vahir – guarded Alina’s tent.
Everyone about the table rose as Alina entered.
Her High Commander, Joros, pressed a fist to his chest and bowed. “My queen, by blade and by blood.”
“Sit, Joros.” Alina gave the man a soft smile. He’d not been the same since the massacre at Myrefall. The man had lost five children and his wife in a single night, all while they’d slept. Anyone who experienced that and stayed the same was not human.
He gave Alina a sharp nod and returned to his chair, staring down into the wine cup before him.
“The rest of you as well.” Alina gestured for the others to sit. They had all been marching double since Dayne had been taken – or since his departure. She still wasn’t quite sure which was more accurate.
Anda Deringal and Tula Vakira, along with Tula’s son Narek, were both seated across from Joros, with Rinek Larka to his left. The new head of House Herak – Vhin’s eldest sister, Hakari – remained at Ironcreek to hold the blockade along the coast and to stop Lorian reinforcements by sea. But her two younger sisters, Savira and Vanda, were both seated at the table, along with her two eldest sons, Yerin and Vakar.
And Kirya of House Tallic – one of the large Minor Houses – now spoke for those who had once been vassals to House Thebal, since Aldon had defected.
A number of other heads of many Minor houses and some of the Wyndarii commanders took up the remaining seats, each of them staring at Alina intently as she walked to the head of the table and took her seat, her wing-sisters sitting alongside her. Alina would never not feel a warmth within her at seeing so many at her table, all bound together by the idea of a free Valtara. And yet, there was an emptiness too in the absence of Senya, Vhin, and Marlin.
After a few moments, porters brought out plates of roast rabbit and venison, pickled herring, fried potatoes, and roast vegetables on metal skewers. The cook fires had been the first things set up once the army had stopped; Alina had made sure of it. An army marched on its belly – a belly that, no matter what happened over the next few days, would soon go hungry.
Alina ripped a hunk of meat from a rabbit leg, chewed, and swallowed. She leaned in to Mera. “Dinekes and the others?”
Alina had asked Dinekes and the other Andurii captains to attend the meal. Not just to discuss plans for beginning the negotiations and the likely siege, but so they might rest with a warm meal and a cup of wine. The Andurii had turned solemn when they’d discovered Dayne was in Loren Koraklon’s hands.
Mera shook her head. “They politely declined.”
“I will see them after this.”
“I’ll go with you.”
As the plates were cleared from the table, Rinek Larka sat forwards. “My queen. What are we to do if Loren does not wish to negotiate?”
Alina knew precisely what Rinek’s words actually meant: what are we to do if Dayne is already dead and Loren is ready for battle?
“We do what we have always done, Rinek. We face what is in front of us with courage in our hearts.”
“We lay siege,” Narek Vakira declared, slapping his empty cup against the table. “We lay siege, and we tear Achyron’s Keep to the ground. Then we mount the traitors’ heads on spikes across the Hot Gates for any that might dare follow.”
Alina raised an eyebrow at Tula Vakira, who simply gave a choked laugh at her son’s words. Alina and the head of House Vakira argued more often than even she and Dayne, but the woman was direct, blunt, and fair. Those were qualities Alina needed at her side, regardless of whether they grated on her.
“Calm your fires, son.” Tula sat back in her chair and took a long draught of her wine.
“Calm?” Anda Deringal shot upright, glaring at Tula, her fingers white around her cup. “Reinan Sarr and those traitors killed my aunt. They butchered Vhin and Sara. I will not be calm. I want their heads!”
Savrin, who had been standing in the back, glanced at Alina, but she shook her head. The night Senya and the others had been slaughtered, Anda had been but a timid girl, more used to dresses and dancing at sunset than spears and blood. And yet since that night, she had hardened. She had earned her third markings of spear and sword and been the first to volunteer for every assault. She had found the bottom of her cup this night, and Alina would not begrudge her that.
“To be calm does not mean to be timid.” Alina sat forwards and rested on her arms. “But rushing head-on into a battle where we are vastly outnumbered will do nothing but see more of our kin entering Achyron’s halls.”
“Then what do you propose we do… Your Grace.” Anda added the honorific with a touch of realisation in her voice, her eyes sobering.
“I too would like to hear what this plan is.” Savira Herak had seen thirty summers and bore four rings of the blade. She was hard as iron and just as rigid. “We march on a keep legendary for its walls. We are vastly outnumbered, and the Lorians have brought Battlemages. I’ve seen the death when warriors try to storm the walls of a fortress. Each defender may as well be ten. Had the reinforcements Aeson Virandr promised arrived, I would say we stood a chance. But what now? What hope do we have?”
Murmers spread about those gathered. Some agreeing with Savira, others arguing. One of the Wyndarii commanders was on her feet, hurling insults at the head of House Rudain.
“Our queen has not led us astray so far,” Kirya of House Tallic called out, her voice swallowed by the arguing. “We have over seven hundred wyverns. All of Valtara is finally?—”
“Oh, stop your rambling.” The Head of the Minor House Joral rolled his eyes and emptied his cup. He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter how many wyverns we have when Loren has a hundred Battlemages and outnumbers us two to one. All we?—”
“Silence!” Joros threw his cup across the table, pushed his chair back, and stood. The man’s hands trembled, and he stared at the ground, shaking his head. Joros had served in the Redstone guard for as many years as Alina had been alive. She trusted him completely. And her heart ached for everything he had lost.
Not a whisper left a single pair of lips as Joros’s fist clenched and unclenched at his side, patches of sweat tacking his tunic to his muscular frame. He drew a long breath and lifted his gaze, glaring at all those sat about the table. “Alina Ateres is our queen. That I need remind you all of this simple fact is a sign of your ignorance and the arrogance that matches it.”
Vhin Herak’s son made to speak but silenced himself after a cold stare from Joros.
“Queen Alina Ateres,” Joros repeated. “Let those words sink into your thick skulls. Queen. Our queen. A Valtaran queen for the first time in centuries. Freedom is within our grasp, and it is Alina who has brought us here. Alina who has united so many of the Houses and rides as First of the Wyndarii. If those at this table do not show her the respect she has rightfully earned in blood and sacrifice, then I will take it upon myself as High Commander of the queen’s armies to teach you that respect.”
Joros walked across the silent tent, collected his cup, and set it back down on the table. Slowly, he poured the wine.
“You are warriors of Valtara,” he said, placing his palm over the mouth of the cup. “If your queen says that we lay siege to Achyron’s Keep, then that is what we do. If she says that we scale the walls with nothing but our bare hands, then that is what we do. If Achyron himself stands guard over the keep, then we will cut him down and dance on his corpse. Dayne Ateres lies on the other side of those walls. Do you not think he would break the gates down himself if any of you were in his place? He is Andurios. He is the champion of Valtara. And I would rather die than leave him in Loren Koraklon’s hands. I lost my dear wife, my sons, my daughters – I lost everything at Myrefall – and I would see those treacherous bastards bleed into the earth for what they have taken from me. If Aeson Virandr arrives in time, all the better. But if he does not, then we will fight like Valtarans, and if needs be, we will die like Valtarans. But I will not live another day with a Lorian blade to my neck.”
Joros looked to Alina and pressed his hand to his chest. “I, Joros of House Myr, High Commander of the Valtaran armies, vow to follow my queen to the depths of the void. I vow to stand steadfast by her side, to fight in her name, to carry her banner, and to lay waste to her enemies. I vow to answer whenever she may call. The Warrior and The Sailor. By blade and by blood. I am yours, my queen. From this day until my last day.”
Amari and Lukira followed Joros, the Wyndarii captains joining. And as they spoke the same words, so too did Anda Deringal and Kirya Tallic, and Rinek Larka and the heads of the other Minor Houses.
Tula Vakira stood, looking to Alina, her lips spreading into a thin but warm smile. “I’m too long in the tooth for vows. My time left is my own. But I truly believe that Queen Alina Ateres would do anything to bring the Houses of Valtara together, to unite us under one banner – strong and fierce. The Lorians have stood over us for so long because we have been divided, weak. But when we fight shield to shield, the wyvern of House Ateres next to the raven of House Vakira, the bull of House Deringal, the stallion of House Herak… we are more than the sum of our parts. I believe it is most certainly time for the rest of Epheria to once again fear the blademasters of Valtara.” She grabbed her cup and raised it. “We are Valtarans! Long live the Wyvern Queen!”
“Long live the Wyvern Queen!”
As the chants settled, Alina pushed her chair back slowly, the wood creaking. When she stood, silence fell, the others still standing with her.
“My parents wanted nothing but the freedom of our home. They fought and died for that freedom. It was Loren Koraklon who sent them to their deaths, who hung them in the plaza for all to see. You have all faced your own losses, your own heartbreak. Our people have been fighting for generations. The other nations lay down and suckled on the Lorian teat, prayed at the altar of the lion. But not us. No. Valtaran blood runs hot. We are bronze, and steel, and scales, and we will not be bowed.”
Alina drew a long, slow breath through her nostrils, exhaling as she cast her gaze around the tent.
“My brother lies within the walls of Achyron’s Keep. I have not always given him the love he deserves. I was bitter, and weak, and stubborn. And it took me far too long to see the man he is. He is the firstborn child of Arkin and Ilya Ateres, the rightful heir to Redstone. When he returned, by right the head of House Ateres was his. He did not take it. He did not even ask for it. When Turik Baleer offered him the chance to take my place, he struck the man down, placed the crown on my head, and stood at my side. Dayne Ateres is not only Valtara’s greatest champion, he is mine.”
Mera stared into Alina’s eyes, smiling softly.
“I ask you all gathered here. Will you let our champion die alone? In the hands of the man who betrays our very home with every breath he takes?”
“No.” Joros hammered his hand against his chest, and in the corner of her eye, Alina saw Savrin Vander do the same, fire in his eyes.
“Will you lie down and let the Lorians place that collar around your neck once more?”
“No!” The chants grew louder now, cups slamming off the table, feet stamping, fists smashing into chests.
“By blade and by blood!”
When cups had been emptied and bellies filled and the others had returned to their tents for a last night of good sleep, Alina strolled through the camp. Evrian, Glaukos, Olivian, and Baris marched in a square around her, orange cloaks drifting just above the dirt. Savrin and Mera walked alongside her.
“Has there been any further word from Aeson Virandr?” Mera asked.
Alina shook her head. “Not in some time. With the Lorian fleets patrolling the coast, there is no telling how long it might take him to reach Valtara.” She looked up at the crimson moon that bled in the sky. “I had given him till the turning of the moon. But we cannot wait. Everything hangs on what happens tomorrow. If I feel Dayne’s life is under threat, we will march on the keep, whether Belina has opened the gates or not. The Wyndarii will rain blood on the walls, and our warriors will mount ladders and smash the gates. We will take the keep, one way or another.”
Savrin’s face grew grim. “I will go wherever you send me, my queen. I will climb the walls alone if you will it. But to send our army crashing against Achyron’s Keep, outnumbered against an entrenched foe… it is to welcome defeat.”
“And what would you have me do, Savrin? Leave Dayne to die? Sue for peace, and live a life in chains?” Alina could do nothing to take the irritation from her voice, and yet she truly did wish to hear Savrin’s counsel. He had kept his opinions close to his chest in the tent, and there were none in her court who knew war like Savrin Vander. He had been the champion of House Ateres in a time when all the Houses had been in constant quarrels. He had been the greatest of the Andurii – even greater than her father. He was not the same man now. His body not as quick or strong, and yet she would still favour him against any foe but her brother.
“I would have you wait, Your Grace. I would have you scrape every last moment you can in the hopes that Aeson Virandr reaches our shores in time.”
“My parents waited on Aeson Virandr.”
“That they did. May I speak plain?”
Alina inclined her head.
“You have never met the man. You base your opinions on the bleeding of your heart and little more. But I have met him. He is hard as steel, cold as ice, and in a world of souls that call themselves honourable, he stands above most else. I fought that night in Redstone. The night the Lorians attacked. The night Loren betrayed us and your parents – along with thousands of others – were slaughtered. We were caught off guard. We had no idea of Loren’s betrayal. How could Aeson have known any better? We weren’t expecting him for days. As much as I would love to lay the cause of that night at someone’s feet, those feet are not Aeson’s.”
“Hmmm.”
“If I may, Your Grace?”
Alina waved for Savrin to continue.
“Dayne gave me back my purpose. There are few in this camp that want him returned safely more than I.”
Both Alina and Mera glanced at him with raised eyebrows.
“Present company being members of that few.” The man raised his open palms, then continued. “When the Andurios left, he instructed patience, did he not? Belina Louna said to wait on her signal.”
Savrin stopped in his tracks.
“What is it?” Alina asked, stopping with the man, Mera and the guards doing the same.
“If we march on that keep tomorrow with the numbers we have, if we throw ourselves against those grey walls and Lorian Battlemages, we will all die. You have fought enough battles to know this. And if you ask me to charge at those walls regardless, I will. I do not take the vows I swore to you lightly, so please do not take my words as disrespect.”
Alina drew in a sharp breath and gave an even sharper nod. “I will take your words into consideration, Savrin.”
The look on Savrin’s face was one of relief. “Your Grace.”
“Where are the Andurii camped?” Alina asked after a few paces.
“They are not at their tents, Your Grace,” Savrin answered.
“Then where are they?”
“There is a spring nearby that trickles into a pool.”
“And what in the gods are they doing there at nightfall?”
“Preparing, Your Grace.”
“For?”
“Death, Your Grace.”
Savrin led Alina, Mera, and the Royal Guard through the camp and up a slope to a dense wood nestled at the foot of a steep hill. Pale pink moonlight spilled through the canopy, illuminating the path. It wasn’t long before the splashing and the rumble of a small waterfall reached Alina’s ears.
Ahead the trees peeled away to reveal a clearing with a large pool at its centre, moss covered rocks arranged about its edges, and a small waterfall trickling.
“Oh…” Alina averted her gaze, more from surprise than embarrassment.
Each of the Andurii – men and women – were naked as the day they were brought into the world, the pink light cold on their skin. Some bathed in the pool’s water, others sat about scrubbing their skin and combing their hair.
After a second or two, Alina lifted her gaze once more. “What in the gods are they doing?”
“I told you, Your Grace. Preparing to die. It is an old Andurii tradition from the Age of War. Some say from even before then, before our ancestors set foot on these lands.”
“Your Grace.” Dinekes Ilyon, one of Dayne’s Andurii captains, rose from where he scrubbed his legs on a low rock by the pool. He wrapped a cloth around his waist and bowed. Alina had known him since she was a child in Redstone. He was a stern man, precise and level.
Alina inclined her head.
Dinekes gestured around at the other Andurii. “It is custom amongst the Andurii that when we have resigned ourselves to the arms of The Mother, we prepare our bodies for her embrace.”
“You have resigned yourselves to dying? You think our odds so small?” Something in Alina’s gut turned. The Andurii were the beating heart of her army. They were the symbol of Valtara reborn, of House Ateres arisen. There was not a soul who did not look on them almost as gods. If the Andurii had forsaken everything, what chance did they have?
“No, Your Grace. It is a commitment to ourselves and to each other that we are willing to give our lives in the battle to come. That we will die for each other. That we will die for the cause. That we will allow nothing to stop us. There will be no retreat, no surrender. Our Andurios lies on the other side of those walls. He would give his own life for us without a second’s thought, without hesitation, or uncertainty, or question. And so we will do the same. We bathe our bodies and comb our hair so that when Heraya takes us, she knows that we gave ourselves willingly, that our deaths came with a conscious understanding. That we were not afraid.”
When Alina once again studied the Andurii who sat about bare as babes, she no longer felt the compulsion to look away. Dinekes’s words had changed the foundations of that moment.
“When I was told you had declined my offer for supper, I had feared… I had?—”
“You had feared we’d abandoned you?”
“In a sense. I had feared you yourselves had felt abandoned by Dayne’s choice to allow himself to be taken. I had feared your anger, feared you had thought it a betrayal.”
Dinekes gave a half-laugh, clasping his hands behind his back. “It is not to us to question the heart of our Andurios’s decisions. His wisdom, yes – I question that daily – but not his heart. If he made that choice, he made it for a reason. It is our charge now to see him safe from harm and to fight in his name.”
“What is that?” Alina gestured towards a group of Andurii to the right of the pool. Some sat with their legs crossed and arms folded across their laps while others marked the chests of those seated with some kind of white and orange paint.
“The Andurii of old used to mark their bodies with ancient glyphs. Messages to the ones they loved should they die. Once the paint hardens and dries, it sticks to the skin for weeks. Sweat, rain, soap – nothing peels it away. It burns the skin, just a little. After a time, it becomes too brittle to hold its own form and peels free.”
Dinekes turned so he stood with the pool on his right and Alina on his left. “Andurii,” he bellowed. “Are you ready to die?”
“AH-OOH!”
Every man and woman roared their reply in unison, and a chill swept through Alina. Three hundred and forty-nine voices as one.
“Are you ready to fight in the name of House Ateres? In the name of Valtara?”
“AH-OOH!”
Even as they bathed and combed their hair, the Andurii shouts were as raw and deep as battle cries.
“Your Andurios is in need of your aid. Who or what will stand in your way?”
“Nothing!” Some of the Andurii beat their fists against their bare chests, others slapped stone or stomped their feet.
“What will you give to see him free? To see Valtara free?”
“Everything!”
“Andurii. By blade and by blood!”
“AH-OOH, AH-OOH, AH-OOH!”
“You see, Your Grace. We do not resign ourselves to dying. We resign ourselves to being willing to die. We resign our lives to the lives of the Andurii. We are your spears from now until we are taken from this world. We are the guardians of House Ateres, and we will never falter.”
Alina and the others were halfway between the wood and the camp when the screeches of wyverns tore through the night overhead.
A group of six flew low, marked in the sky by the moon’s light.
Mera and Alina glanced at one another, and Savrin bellowed orders at the Royal Guard, each of them drawing their blades.
“Warn the Andurii!” Olivian shouted, ordering Glaukos back through the wood. She turned to Evrian. “Rouse the rest of the guard and sound the horns. The rest of you, nothing gets past your blades.”
“Hold.” Alina raised an open palm.
“My queen, if there is an attack, time is not our ally. We must act swiftly and decisively.” Olivian’s hand gripped the spherical pommel of her sword, which was still sheathed at her hip. She gestured for the remaining guards to spread out and take up a defensive position.
Alina pointed up at the sky. “Those Wyndarii each have horns to signal an attack. They’ve not yet used them.”
“All the same, Your Grace, I would rather be prepared for a fight that does not come than face a fight we are not prepared for.”
“As you will, but take us to the camp. If they’re back from patrol, it’s for a reason – reason enough to rouse me from the sleep they believe me to be enjoying.”
By the time Alina and the others reached her tent, Ola Yarek, one of the Wyndarii commanders, was waiting alongside her night blue wyvern, Tuavast, and five other Wyndarii.
“My queen.” Ola bowed and pressed her hand to her chest, the other Wyndarii following suit.
“What news, Commander?” Alina gestured for them all to rise.
“Ships, my queen. Hundreds.”
Alina’s skin goosefleshed, a twisted ball of dread forming in her stomach. “Whose?”
Ola shook her head. “I do not know the sigil, my queen. It’s some kind of reptile, black and white, on a golden field lined with blue.”
Alina looked to Savrin, who pursed his lips and shook his head.
“Sound the alarm. Better be prepared for a fight that does not come than face a fight we are not prepared for.” She nodded at Olivian, then turned to Mera. “Ready yourself and summon Amari and Lukira. We ride for the coast.”
Savrin started to object but stopped as soon as Alina raised a hand. “You’re my guard, Savrin. Not my shadow.”
“They’re the same thing, Your Grace.”
“Well unless you can fly, find a horse.”