Kindle and Eryx stood in an array with the hundreds of other soldiers. They were on the slope of a hill that looked down into a shallow valley. It was a chilly morning, and the sun came through small patches of blue sky. In the distance, a lake glimmered in the sunlight.
"You warm enough?" Kindle asked out of the corner of his mouth.
"Sure," Eryx shivered from behind a scarf, coat, wrap, and upturned collar. He wore so many layers only his green eyes were visible under the shade of his helmet. He shifted his halberd to the crook of his elbow to rub his frigid hands together. Kindle bumped his side with his shoulder and chuckled.
"Atten-tion!" barked the sergeant. The entire division straightened stiff in unison.
Zar, on an armored horse, trudged to the crest of the hill. The wind whistled through the grass as the soldiers silently watched the king.
After a minute of scanning through the ranks, Zar spoke:
"Not many of you trust me or even want to see my face here. Some of you think I am a coward- an imposter to the throne," Zar projected his voice out to the crowd. "At the moment, I could care less what you think about me-"
Some of the soldiers bristled and whispered among each other.
"Because you're not fighting for me, and I don't want you to fight for me. I want you to fight for what's waiting back in your homes. You're fighting for your homes, your children, your siblings, your parents. You're risking your lives for love and freedom and future. The fate of your bloodlines rests on your shoulders." The men quieted.
"But let it be known that no one here will leave without knowing loss," Zar continued. "Not one face will be dry, not one heart will be untouched. I speak from experience that every single life lost is a hard blow to one's character. It weathers the mind like a waterfall crushes a stone. Prepare yourselves for the person standing next to you to disappear without warning. The South Kingdom hasn't seen war in many years, so the sting of death will be fresh to most of you.
"Just on the other side of those hills-" He gestured to the mountains across the valley- "Are three armies which will bring ruin to the South Kingdom. The Western Empire will take your livelihoods. Agrafistan will divide your land. Snowvidia will enslave you and your children. They fight for greed, but we fight with the drive of our pride and spirit. I say how dare they even try to challenge our strength!"
A small, but collective battle cry ran through the soldiers. "How dare they threaten our borders without provocation!"
A louder shout went around. "If they think we will cower like dogs at the first sign of danger, they've critically underestimated our strength. They have their hands in the viper's den, and it will be their ultimate downfall!"
This time, almost all of the soldiers raised their weapons and shouted with unity.
Zar drew his sword from his saddle's scabbard and swathed it over the ranks. "When your enemies see you, they will know that the South Kingdom is a force to be reckoned with and that we will not surrender! They will know and come to bear the heat of our fury and the sting of our blades! This will be a war that this land and the lands around have never before and never will again witness in history-" Zar took a moment to breathe- "Now, let us begin. Onward to war!"
A roar of primitive, guttural cries erupted from the hundreds of legions. Spears rapped against shields while horses reared and stamped. The energy that ran through the soldiers was infectious. Officers barked orders over the ruckus to march forward.
"That gave me chills," said Kindle. "I didn't know Zar could make speeches like that."
"I don't think he did either," Eryx replied.
A shrill, hoarse shout went over them, "Enemy catapults! North-east!"
Sure enough, a line of gargantuan catapults clad in metal waited on the far side of the valley. Their wooden booms were stretched back with massive boulders ready to launch. The armies were here.
The war was here.
"Catapults to the front lines!" ordered the generals. "Longbow archers, defensive positions!"
A deafening crack of wood and weights sounded around the valley as a projectile of rock hurtled toward the Southern Army. It impacted on the left flank, scattering soldiers like ants and shaking the earth. Several soldiers were not able to move in time to avoid the collision. Their regiment officer shouted orders to push forward.
Western Imperial soldiers descended the mountain to attack the Southern Army in the valley. Somehow, the Southern Army managed to regain its composure and barreled down to meet them. Another catapult released its load and landed just short of the slope. A volley of arrows from Southern archers overtook the first wave of Imperials. Agrafistanian riders came up on the uphill side of the valley and blindsided the Southerners.
Within the first few minutes of battle, over a hundred soldiers lay dead in the grass.
~ ~ ~
Two servants carried Kiera's trunk down the palace steps and tied it on the carriage roof. She looked over her belongings and thought about what else would need to be brought to the safe house. It would take at least two days to get there, but it was so deep in the woods no one would be able to find it. That being said, no one would be coming to bring supplies if they ran out of food.
Further down in the courtyard, two identical carriages were being packed with baggage of similar color and size. The only difference was they were filled with rocks. One of the decoy carriages would be driven to a docked ship and set sail. The other would brave the jagged mountain ranges.
The more Kiera looked at the cargo, the more she knew she was forgetting something important.
"Holden, I'm going to go check my room one more time," Kiera told one of the servants as she trekked back up the stairs.
"M'lady, let me grab a soldier to accompany you, please," Holden said while checking things off a roll of parchment.
"Relax, Holden," Kiera waved him off, "It's not that much of a risk. I'll be quick-" She turned and stared back at him- "But if I'm not back in five minutes, send a squad of guards to find my body." She meant it as a light-humored joke, but Holden seemed to have taken it too seriously; his face went pale with anxiety.
Kiera sighed and continued to the large doors of the palace. There were four guards instead of two stationed outside and even more patrolling inside the palace. It was quiet and tense, and the halls echoed with the sound of clattering metal and marching feet.
Several times before she got to her quarters, squads of soldiers stopped and bowed to her. She returned a curtsy and walked hastily past. As much as she tried not to entertain the thought, she knew that they would be sent off to the war after the first wave of soldiers was depleted. Then another would go, then another, then another. . .
Finally, she made it to her room. The once-friendly-looking portraits hung silently and heavily, absorbing any sound from her slippers. The faces of her ancestors stared down at her with disdain.
Now that she looked around, it didn't look like she'd forgotten anything. The thought came that when she would return to the palace again, after the war, everything would be blanketed in a haze of dust.
As she searched through the contents of her bureau, a gloved hand cupped over her mouth. Kiera gasped as she felt a sharp blade jut against her spine- shallow enough to cause pain but not draw blood. Her hands instinctively went to grab the hand and pull it away as a cry rose in her throat.
"Scream and you die," her captor hissed, "The Viscount has a message for you, so be nice." Her fingers tightened around the gloved hand, but she fought her scream down.
"If Erik wants to tell me something," she grunted, "he should tell me himself." She bit his hand but only got a mouthful of bitter-tasting leather. She dug her heel into his foot. The man seemed unfazed.
"He's preoccupied at the moment," the man said with a husky tone. He adjusted his grip to crudely hold her jaw closed. "He wants you to know that this war is all because of you." Kiera stopped struggling against the man.
"No one would have had to be killed if you hadn't intervened with his agendas. He wants to make it clear that every death on the battlefield is blood on your hands- Including your father's murder."
Kiera stiffened as the words sank in. Her captor's grip on her lessened. She felt light-headed.
"Your Grace?" A servant knocked on the other side of the door. "Is there something the matter?"
"The Viscount also wanted me to leave you a gift," the man purred in her ear. "Something you left behind the last time he saw you."
He released her, letting her slump against the bureau. As his footsteps receded, she heard a metallic clattering on the desk behind her. Kiera breathed heavily through her nose while she gripped the dresser for support.
The servant came into the room and saw her distraught countenance. The mysterious man was nowhere to be seen.
"Your Grace? Oh, dear. Let me help you sit down." The maid took her gently by the arm and led her to a chair. Kiera's knuckles were turning white from holding her dress too tightly.
From the view she had from the chair, she could see the "gift" Erik had given her. The silver letter opener that she had stabbed Erik with lay broken in two on her bedside table. His rust-colored blood still stained the blade, as if he wanted her to see exactly how deep the knife had cut into him.
"Princess, did you find what you were missing?" the maid asked, holding her shaking hand.
Kiera swallowed the rancid taste in her mouth. "No, no I didn't. I'm ready to leave." She rose and fled from the room.
The carriage ride was rough on the unpaved dirt road. It was pitch-black in the small compartment, but she wasn't allowed to open the curtains for fear of highwaymen ambushing the procession.
She felt nauseous the more she thought about Erik's message. She hated how his words were always dripping toxic with honesty.
The war really was her fault. She was the one who went looking for Zar, she had taken part in driving him out of his castle, and she was the one who brought the knife.
But more importantly, she had dealt the first blow to their past relationship- years before she even knew Zar. She was the one who had ordered him out of the palace, dragged by his elbows, after telling him she could never love him.
She felt her eyes watering while the knot in her stomach cinched. It was all her fault. Zar was being sent to his death because of what she'd done to Erik. Even though she was alone in the dark carriage, she cupped her hands over her face to stifle the sounds of her sobs.
If Zar was killed, would she go crazy, like her father did after her mother died? Kiera wasn't sure if she'd even be able to cope if that happened.
Why did I marry him?
By the time the carriage rolled to a halt, hours later, one of the entourage servants found Kiera huddled in the corner with her knees tucked up under her chin.
"M'lady, is there something the matter?" he asked.
Kiera inhaled a shuddering breath. "Of course not. Why would anything be wrong?" She mechanically unfolded and stepped off the carriage. Her face was rigid and her hands were clasped together so tightly her knuckles were white.
She said nothing to the servants as she entered the cabin. She drifted down the hall like a ghost. The sixth sense of her childhood memories guided her to her old room. The bed was the perfect size for her ten-year-old self with an old bear doll laying on the pillow. A small, lavender wardrobe bore scribbles of flowers and make-believe friends.
She came to rest in a dusty rocking chair in the corner of the room. It faced the woods outside where the snow had begun to fall. She refused to think. All she could do was watch.
Why did I marry him?