31. Royal Interference
Royal Interference
We battled the dead—endlessly, relentlessly, remorselessly.
I had to drop out of rotation for two hours to get the broken ribs and concussion I hadn’t even noticed tended by a healer, and then it was back to war.
Through the night and into the day, retreating ever closer to the Antlered Palace.
A soot-streaked flicker-bird handler handed me Leah’s final message as the morning sun warmed the battlefield: “The gates are open. Bring your people into the heart of Stag Court, and we will defend you.”
I knew who had told her to make that decision. My heart wrenched as I forced myself not to look for him—to keep my eyes towards the battlefield, and to keep the yearnings of my aching soul buried deep, deep beneath the knowledge of war.
Leah had promised to defend us. That knowledge spread through the beleaguered Armies like wildfire: that the Antlered Palace would sacrifice everything for us, as we were sacrificing everything for our Court.
It lent us strength as we were driven into the hills, our backs to the heart of Stag Court.
With our Regent behind us and our prince before us, we poured out everything we had left to defend our people.
Leah had promised to defend us, but she didn’t tell us how we’d be defended.
The first explosion rocked the front lines in the early afternoon as we were being driven up the steep slope towards the palace.
A jagged line perhaps forty feet into the dead army erupted, earth and stone and rotten flesh spraying in every direction.
For twenty feet to either side, the dead staggered and fell, at least a third of them twitching and going to the ground.
If I hadn’t been mid-strike, my sword would have fallen out of my nerveless hand. As it was, I had to fight to shake my mind out of the shocked stupor, rallying my squad to take advantage of the gap in the onslaught.
I had no idea what could cause an explosion like that, but after the second eruption sent metal pinging off of my armor, I realized with rising glee that Leah had found some way to fling iron shrapnel through the air at horrendous speeds.
A few of our soldiers got caught in the crossfire, but it did a fantastic job of bringing down the dead—bringing them down permanently, the iron disrupting fae blood magic thoroughly enough that Nephinae could no longer control the iron-tainted bodies.
Explosive ballista joined the battle when we came into range of the palace walls.
They streaked overhead with shocking speed and impacted the remaining constructs, one after another, blowing chunks off and reducing them to rubble.
If any of us had possessed the energy to roar our approval, we never would have stopped.
Our princess was inventive, and as ruthlessly cruel in battle as my Alluin.
Alluin had set up the army to retreat through the palace gates, a long and grueling task. We slowed the dead as much as we could, buying those in the rear the time to get through the narrow chokepoint. There were only so many people who could pass through at once, and the battlefield was broad.
The dead forced us up the steep slope that lay on the approach to the Antlered Palace, the army pushed back ever closer towards the unforgiving walls.
I frowned as I caught sight of a line of bright pink streamers on wooden poles flapping in the wind.
Something felt wrong. Felt off, the familiar land around the palace stripped of trees and shrubs, marked with colorful banners—
The hillside vanished.
For one heartstopping, mind-boggling moment, the dead army hung suspended in the air. Feet kicked where a glamored shell of ground had stood the instant before.
The dead fell. On the walls, bows twanged. Fire-arrows rained from the sky, and the slope below us erupted into an inferno.
It could have been a rout. If we hadn’t been retreating over ground that vaporized after we were driven over it, with screaming ballista shooting over our heads, it would have been a rout.
Asking soldiers to keep their wits about them when the entire battlefield turns into a smoky, flesh-melting blaze is asking a fuckton of them.
But we had been facing shocking weapons wielded in our defense throughout the afternoon, and though there were cries of surprise and dismay, the lines didn’t break.
We didn’t run for the gates. We held our lines and we conducted an orderly retreat, fighting the dead as oily black smoke choked our lungs. Leah had promised to defend us, and gods and monsters, she fucking had.
The heavy infantry were the last through the gates.
Palace guards slammed them shut behind us and turned to join the fighting, coming to the rescue of my exhausted soldiers.
I knew Alluin had to be in the war room—making life hellish for whatever courtiers were there, no doubt, given the fact that he was working on maybe six or seven hours of sleep in the past five days—and though I wanted to go to him, I knew he was as safe as it was possible to be in a palace infested with reanimated corpses.
I fell back with my soldiers behind the defenders of the palace.
Most were too bedraggled for anything besides being sent to the rear, but I picked a half-dozen people and headed down the wrecked path Dain had left.
I doubted that there was much that we could do that Dain could not, but, well…
if it was Nephinae animating the dead, and if she did have a fae command geas the way Dain and Alluin thought, having mortal soldiers on hand could mean the difference between victory and defeat.
We moved as a squad, fighting the remnants of the dead as we went.
It wasn’t difficult to follow Dain’s trail.
The palace was a living thing (more or less), and couldn’t easily be glamored, so Dain had simply knocked down the walls in his way.
He was heading for the throne room, I thought grimly.
Whatever Nephinae was doing would surely end there.
There were fewer people as we moved away from the center of the palace, and more dead. We got stuck several times, dealing with knots of the dead. Every delay set me more on edge. Something was happening. My prince was in trouble. I could feel it in my bones.
Out of nowhere, Dain’s voice rose in a sorrowful howl, one as much mourning as command. All around us, the dead slumped and fell, sagging to the floor like puppets with their strings cut. Even the severed limbs on the floor stopped writhing.
We stood there in panting silence. None of us were ready to believe that it was over—that the corpses strewn around us in a mangled tableau weren’t going to get back up and attack.
But then, all across the palace, echoing through halls and war-torn chambers: cheers.
Raw and ragged, but cheers, humans roaring their delight and fae tipping their heads to the sky and howling back to our Beast.
The squad around me started lowering their weapons, then started laughing, the utter relief of having won sinking in.
One woman whooped, taking a running step to kick a severed hand.
Inwardly, I flinched at the disrespect to the civilian’s body, but I understood the natural antipathy towards the enemy.
Many soldiers never grew compassion for those on the other side of their swords.
“At ease,” I said with a laugh, a smile cracking my face. “The grand ballroom is likely the staging area for the Antlered Palace. Go ahead and find yourself some healing, food, and beds.”
“Is that an order, Commander?” one man asked, giving me a tired grin.
“The last one of this war, I hope,” I replied, shaking my head. “Dismissed, all of you.”
I got a few casual salutes as they turned and headed back the way we’d come.
Though part of me longed for the same tasks, I wasn’t about to go to bed without ensuring that my people were safe.
I plodded down Dain’s path, following the trail of destruction.
Along the way, I found some curtains and wiped my sword so I could sheath it, and took my helmet off for good measure.
My head throbbed faintly, punishment for not drinking enough water in the past days.
When I made it to the throne room, stepping up into an entrance that had formerly been a thick stone wall, I caught sight of Dain and Leah sitting together.
Dain was on two legs, crouched in front of Leah, who was armored and covered in blood.
They were smiling, though. Beaming, actually, looking at each other like there was no one else in the world.
“Hey! Trueloves!” I called, grinning at them.
Both turned in synchrony to look at me. Balanced, I thought with satisfaction. Once we’d recovered from our latest war, I had a number of fat bets to collect from nobles who really should have known better than to think Dain and Leah wouldn’t pull off a dramatic finish.
Leah lifted one hand and wiggled her fingers at me, giving me one of her perky smiles.
I rolled my eyes in a playful reply. “Get your asses to the war room,” I told them. “You know how Alluin gets when he’s been running on adrenaline and stimulants for days, my King. If you don’t go deal with your general, I make no promises about how many courtiers you’ll have left in the morning.”
Dain snorted, but he got up and stretched. He knew exactly what I was talking about, and the level of damage a sleep-deprived Alluin could wreak if he put his mind to it.
The two of them exchanged a few words, obviously affectionate.
Leah kissed him on the shoulder; Dain gave her a soft look and held her hand against his cheek.
Then Leah kissed his shoulder again, and Dain kissed her knuckles like a courtier.
Fucking trueloves, I thought, more out of irritation at having to wait to make sure Alluin was safe than any antipathy towards their happiness.