Lily of the valley

22

A year of fighting elapsed, the war in the south was just as brutal as the one in the north. Eithene sat unmoving upon her throne, she was wrapped in a black woollen blanket, her hair had grown dull and grey and her skin had sunk. The Queen appeared close to death, at her feet knelt Mora, sobbing, she had lost everything. The forest had been left in a state of ash and charred wood, it would take centuries to regrow. The mercenaries that the dwarves had sent were uncontrollable, surrounded by the mystical beauties of the wood they had been led astray by lust and sin.

King Hans' armies had pushed south, the meadow was unable to stop him though they had put up a good fight, Queen Anne had been dragged from her bed and executed before her people. Shortly after that King David of the wasteland had joined forces with Hans, solemnly recognising him as the eternal emperor in exchange for wealth, glory and survival.

King Daniel of the moors sat to the left of Eithene, he too was stricken, there was nothing that anybody could do. They had called upon Edward and Omar many times but heard no response, they were too wrapped up in their own war and could not find peace. Hans would let the foolish Kings wear themselves down and come for their heads next.

The seat of Kings was surrounded by war, they had nowhere to go as Hans' armies pushed closer across the wasteland which had been opened to them. The handful of nobles that were present armed themselves with swords and axes, the servants armed themselves with anything they could find. Lit torches, kitchen knives and broken shards of metal. All there was to do was wait.

On the horizon appeared a mass hoard of men in shining armour, each wielding a longsword that glinted in the sun. The enemy glowed as they approached, like an army of fire. Hans led them on a white war horse which was dressed in elegant red velvet and golden armour. The bells began to chime, warning the inhabitants of the danger. The sound caused panic in some and resignation in others.

"Bar the doors!" Cried out a nobleman, people banded together to push long tables and stone thrones before the doors. It would buy them some time. A noble woman pulled three glass bottles of cynaide from her purse, she glanced out of the window at the approaching warriors and uttered a prayer. To her two young children she gave a bottle and urged them to drink, she did the same. They each went red and fell to their knees, gasping for air that was useless in their poisoned lungs. It was horrific to watch, their eyes were bloodshot and desperate, they thrashed about, clawing at their throats. Lily averted her eyes, the children screamed, not understanding what their mother had done to them. In a few minutes they were dead.

Mora called upon the heather to rise, she refused to go down without a struggle. A sound like rustling leaves rushed from her throat out across the moorland. The plants began to writhe and moan, they twisted themselves around the ankles of the advancing soldiers and pulled them to their knees. Flowers turned to weapons. They lashed and cut and suffocated. Frantic knights slashed at the earth, sweating with fear and the brutish summer heat; many of them died on that field, but not enough. The cavalry prevailed, nature would not harm animals, the horses were a shield and King Hans knew it. The riders pressed on, leaving their fallen and writhing brothers behind; they surrounded the seat of kings.

"Tear it to the ground!" Ordered Hans with a rageful screeching. He was red faced and consumed by a fit of hatred, he was so close to all he had ever wanted. He could almost taste the blood of Kings. The Kings order was sent back along the troops to the trebuchets, soldiers loaded heavy rock and flaming fabrics into the catapults. "Fire at will!" Hans barked to his knights. Projectiles began to soar towards the defenceless castle. The walls were dwarven made and therefore impenetrably strong, two tonne rocks collided with the throne room and made the ground tremble. Debris fell from the ceiling onto the huddled nobles, many of them were praying, most were weeping and blubbering. They now felt envy for the woman who lay cold on the flagstones, what was coming would be far worse than that.

"Aim for the door and windows!" The general of Hans' army called out, he saw that he would need to find the building's weak spots. A stone collided with one of the smaller windows and glass shattered across the floor, a woman screamed as fragments of stained glass sliced her cheek. Blood dripped onto her green silk gown. A boulder collied with the doors but they held, though splintered and weak, it would not take much more to prise them open. 

"Brace yourselves!" Shouted a nobleman above the din, those that could fight drew their swords. All were untrained, they had never fought a day in their lives. Enemy knights approached the doorway with a battering ram, the time had come for the slaughter.

"Stop this! Katherine is too young!" Lily pleaded with the witch, desperately unnerved by what she saw and what she was about to see. Katherine watched with a stony expression, she too was horrified but this massacre was the history of her family, it ran in her bloodlines she felt she had to witness it. 

"She must know the dark to be the light." Responded the sylth, uninterested by Lily's pungent discomfort. 

The doors of the chambers broke open and Hans entered with a vicious smirk, a group of about twenty soldiers rushed in behind him and with little effort cut down the noblemen and servants that fought so bravely for their families. King Daniel was better trained, he swung his longsword with grace and managed to take some knights down with him before a misstep led to his beheading. The cobbles were soaked with thick blood and littered with severed flesh. The surviving noblewomen backed themselves into a corner, trembling with fear. Queen Eithene remained sat on her throne, staring blankly ahead, she was statuesque and full of rich melancholy. Mora shot arrows into the crowd of warriors but they were ineffective against their steel chainmail. Hans pointed to the gaggle of petrified woman,

"Slit their throats." He ordered, the shrieked as the soldiers approached. They fought with their teeth and nails for life but they were overpowered and life was stolen from them. Only Mora and Eithene remained. Hans approached them himself, his trademark smirk was sickening; Lily felt she might vomit. The King of the mountain gripped Mora by the hair and slammed her into the wall, her head hit stone and she cried out in pain. Hans held a blade to her delicate green neck and released her dark brown dreads, he allowed his hands to wander across her body while the dagger drew blood. "So dryads do bleed red after all." Hans whispered into her ear. The Queen of the forest wept as he assaulted her, unable to move from terror. "Your forest will never recover, the dryad race is extinct, I am King now and forever." Hans kissed Mora deeply on the mouth before slitting her throat and leaving her to bleed out on the ground. 

Then the King turned to Eithene who remained unmoving, she welcomed death. Hans gripped her face in his fist, squeezing hard, trying to force some reaction from the Queen. She gave him none. Hans lifted the crown from her head and placed it on his own, he sighed with relief and exuberant joy; he finally had everything he wanted. Eithene glared up at him, though her face was unreadable inside she was frothing with vibrant rage. The knife that he had murdered Mora with was strapped to his hip, the handle was inches from Eithene's face. Elves are natural pacifists yet Eithene could not stop herself, she would delight in what was to come. With a swift movement she drew the dagger and plunged it between Hans' ribs, she struck well and punctured a lung. Hans spluttered in agony, Eithene smiled with defiance. 

"Kill her." Hans choked out the words to his soldiers before falling into death, the Queen of peace was hauled to the executioners block which sat below the stain glass image of justice. She was beheaded swiftly by longsword and the empire was left without a ruler.