The Queen turned her eyes to Isana. "That is why I am here. That is why I must destroy you. I must create my own stronghold if I am to survive. That, too, is a task requiring many years." She rested her chin upon her knees, closed her eyes, and whispered, "I wish to live. I wish for my children to live."
Isana stared down at the monstrous child's genuine sorrow and fear, and fought against the pity the sight and sense of her evoked. She was a monster, nothing less - even if she might also be something more.
The Queen rocked back and forth, a tiny and distressed motion. "I wish to live, Isana. I wish for my children to live."
Isana sighed and turned to walk back to her place beside Araris. "Who doesn't, child," she murmured. "Who doesn't."
Chapter 35~36
Chapter 35
From the beginning of the Vord War, the enemy had, time after time, attacked positions that were not ready to defend against a threat of the magnitude they represented. Despite the desperate attempts to warn Alera of what was coming, no one listened, and as a result, the vord had driven the Alerans from their fortresses and cities alike, one after the next. Time after time, the lightning-swift advance of the vord or the inhuman tactics they used had overwhelmed the insufficiently prepared defenders. Time after time, the light had dawned upon a world more and more thoroughly dominated by the invaders - but this dawn was different.
The Calderon Valley was ready to fight.
"There's a dent in it somewhere," growled Antillus Raucus, slapping one paw back at the ornate lorica covering his right shoulder. "It isn't moving right."
"You're imagining things," High Lord Phrygius answered. "There's no bloody dent."
"Well, something's not right."
"Yes," said High Lord Placida in a patient tone. "You slept in it again. You aren't young enough to keep doing that, Raucus. You've injured your shoulder joint, likely."
"I'm young enough to toss your short ass right off this wall," Raucus snapped back. "We'll see whose joint gets injured."
"Boys, boys," Placidus Aria said. "Please don't set a bad example for the other children."
Ehren, standing well behind the High Lords, was too self-contained to smile. But he rocked back and forth on his heels in silent amusement before turning his head to cast a wink at Amara.
She rolled her eyes at him in response and stepped up to stand beside Lady Placida. They stared out at the wide-open plain rolling out of the mouth of the Calderon Valley, a sea of gently rising and falling green. The sun had risen bright, the day fair. Crows had been wheeling overhead for days, first in dozens, then hundreds, and now in thousands. They cast a steady stream of flickering shadows over the earth. The enemy had used them to drop takers into Aleran defensive positions before - now any such attempt would be thwarted by the earth furies on constant patrol among the Aleran forces, which had created a side benefit of all but exterminating the rats, slives, and other vermin that tended to haunt garbage piles around a Legion position.
Let the vord try to use the crows against them again. Calderon was ready.
"Countess," Lady Placida said. "I believe I heard Lady Veradis tell you to sleep for at least twelve hours."
"Which is ridiculous," Amara replied. "It was just a broken wrist."
"And several injuries from Riva, I believe," Lady Placida said.
"She only told me twelve because she knew I needed six," Amara said.
"A most excellent rationale."
"Thank you," Amara said gravely. After a moment, she said, "I have to be here. He still can't talk very clearly. Interpreting for him could be important."
"I understand," Lady Placida said. She turned to face Amara, her lovely face calm and hardly showing the weariness Amara knew she had to be feeling. "Countess... should we win this battle, not all of us are going to survive it. Should we lose, none of us will."
Amara glanced away, out at the plain, and nodded.
Lady Placida took a step forward and put a hand on Amara's shoulder. "I am just as mortal as anyone else. There is something I would say to you, in case there's not another chance."
Amara frowned and nodded.
"I owe you my life, Countess," Aria said, simply. "It has been my honor to have known you."
Tears stung Amara's eyes. She tried to smile at the High Lady, stepped closer, and embraced her. "Thank you. I feel the same way."
Lady Placida's hug was nearly as strong as Bernard's. Amara tried not to wheeze.
Lord Placida had approached as they spoke, and he smiled briefly as they both turned to him. "In point of fact, dear, all of us owe her our lives."
Aria arched an imperious eyebrow. "You are not going to hug the pretty little Parcian girl, you goat."
Placida nodded gravely. "Foiled again."
From perhaps twenty feet down the battlements, a legionare pointed to the southwest, and cried, "Signal arrow!"
Amara turned to see a tiny, blazing sphere of light reaching the top of its arc and beginning to fall. Thousands of eyes turned to follow the firecrafting on the arrow, blazing so bright that it could be seen clearly even under the morning sun. No one spoke, but sudden tension and controlled fear lanced up and down the length of the wall like a lightning bolt.
"Well," Antillus Raucus said. "There it is."
"Brilliant last words," Phrygius said beside him. "We'll put them on your memorium. Right next to, 'He died stating the obvious.' "
"Ah," Lord Placida said. "It begins."
"See?" Phrygius said. "Sandos knows how to go out with style."
"You want to go out with style, I'll strangle you with your best silk tunic," growled Antillus.
Amara found herself letting out a breathless laugh, very nearly a giggle, despite the fear running through her. The fear didn't go away, but it became easier to accept. Her husband, his holders, the legionares assigned to him and, over the last months, some of the most powerful members of the Dianic League had been working to prepare this place for this very morning.
Time, then, to make it all worthwhile.
"I must join my husband," Amara said firmly. "Good luck, Aria."
"Of course," Aria replied. "I'll try to keep the children here from fighting each other instead of the vord. Good luck, Amara."
Amara called upon Cirrus, stepped off the wall, and rose into the air. She glided a swift mile down the wall, over a river of men clad in steel, morning light flashing off the polished metal as surely and brightly as if from water. Drums below began rattling the signal to stand ready, so many of them that it sounded to Amara like the rumble of a distant thunder.