The wind blows its warm breath on my face.
My face tightens slightly at the bright, shuddering light that pierces through my closed eyelids. I heave them open and the intensity dissipates to the far corners of my vision. The colours of the world return. My senses awaken. My nose wrinkles at the potent stench that brutally shocks me to full consciousness. I shift my hand. It explores the hard surface beneath a layer of dark brown lycra material.
A chest. Vince's chest.
I glance down, his arm slung over my shoulder. I rise carefully, slowly sliding up. His arm slips off me, dropping beside him limply.
"You two looked cosy."
I look to my right. Solaris rubs his forehead and pinches until the centre ripples with fleshy folds. Then he runs his fingers through his tousled Achilles mane.
Unsure of how to respond to that, I say, "I suppose...I fell asleep."
His hand drops to his lap with a loud, unconvinced plop. "You never fell asleep on me," he says with an enigmatic smile. Perplexing, since I'm uncertain if it comes from a place of envy or disapproval.
"You sound jealous, Herem Solaris."
My head turns and I look down at Vince's hidden eyes, his face inexplicably still.
"Concerned," he corrects harshly. Then adds, "For her safety, the Hera should be wary of those she draws close."
As if I do not already know that?
Without looking, he says, "With me, she's the safest she can be, Solaris." Tenor enwrought with austerity.
Solaris lets out a quick burst of laughter with resounding skeptisim. "Ironic coming from the Herem of the most violent Regnum, Empire, in all of Urium."
The remark earns him a glower, revealing his eyes, shadows creeping beneath.
"Violent when I must, or when someone tempts me to be," he says as a matter of fact.
Solaris's spine snaps straight and his gaze drills holes into him. "Perhaps I should increase my efforts."
I shoot both hands up placatingly. "Easy there. Where did all this hostility come from?" I ask, conjuring a babying tone. "Did the Herems not get enough sleep?"
Vince scoffs and draws his arm over his eyes.
"Arghh." A familiar, maddened groan. "We have been travelling all night. Surely the horses need tending by now," Brennon blathers. "Any excuse to escape this rattrap of a carousine."
"Rattrap?" Dario repeats disagreeably. "It feels like one of the castle's State Rooms compared to the Orombuc's sleeping huts. I would gladly take this option any day."
"Of course, you would say that. Even nobility cannot conceal your rodent-like nature, tracker boy."
Dario thrust himself forward like he's about to attack but he wrests himself under control. Teetering at the verge of the seat. His fingers clutching onto the edge, knuckles whitening. He glowers at Brennon; he sits opposite him, staring back at him smugly from down his nose. His one bent leg settled on the seat, a black leather boot on the brink, his wrist resting on his knee.
"Say that again, and you will find that I possess far more lethal skills."
Brennon's smirk endures. He drops his leg down to the ground, dipping forward to rest his elbows on his thighs.
"Oh, is that—"
"Cut it out," Treyton intervenes for the first time. He swipes the locks of his medium-length tresses from his face. Strawberry accents in his hair. "You both are squabbling and squawking like a pack of ringerds. Shut it or I will make you."
Brennon's head whisks to the side. "Make me then."
I hope we take a recess soon, for all of our sakes.
Abruptly, Vince bolts forward, bracing against sudden alarm. "All of you, shut it."
His order inspires immediate silence.
A far-off look enters his eyes, then it darts erratically from place to place, like he's listening to something distressing. The atmosphere implodes with the noise of whinnying horses, the clamour of wild and harried neighs resonates to and fro the carousine.
The carousine comes to an abrupt halt. I nearly lurch out of my seat, but Vince shoots his arm out in front of me. A rustling sound swells and grows louder. A tree falling—a huge one—the heavy impact when it hits the ground spreads and ripples through the surface. Then it triggers a vicious temblor. The ground shakes beneath us, radiating seismic turmoil that causes the carousine to tremble at the great rumble that bellows from the earth.
It's not an earthquake.
I can feel the far-flung reverberations of energy currents. Strong energy currents.
Magic. Extremely powerful and very dark.
"The Vulkra!"
An energised force explodes against the flank of the carousine, sending us all flying. The carousine crashes down a line of descent, spiralling down a steep slope. All of us caught in a tornado, whirling in a vortex of flailing bodies, my own smacking against surfaces constantly with bone-jarring thuds.
Something hard whacks against my head, rendering my whole world black.
***
Shuffling, shambling, and sounds of dim voices.
My fingers twitch. I try to move into a plank position. Full consciousness registers the aches all over my battered body, pain stunting even the simplest movements. I haul myself up onto my knees. The cord of my flower garland snapped. I snatch it off.
I sit kneeled on the roof, the carousine completely upturned. And around me are piles of displaced cushions, headrests, and throw pillows scattered in chaos along with the bodies of the Herems. Solaris sits a few steps from me, peeling off his jacket with a wince, casting it aside.
Warm liquid travels down my temple. My eyes fixed on the top part of his baggy blouse's sleeve that is stained with a splotch of damp blood. Fresh blood. The slit of the material sliced open. I inhale a ready breath, hoisting myself up to full height, hobbling to him.
On my way. I pause. A face protrudes from beneath a mound of toppled cushions. Markiveus. He is completely knocked out, too convincingly, I might add.
Is he dead?
I shove away a few of them, taking this opportunity to kick my boot into his side—he stirs awake and frees a pained groan.
How unfortunate.
I move on until I stand beside Solaris; I flick my coat back, lowering myself until I sit on my haunches. I hold his bicep, angling it to inspect the haemorrhaging wound. It's only a graze, but the wound continues to weep tears of blood.
"I'm fine," he mumbles.
Wordlessly, I reach down, unsheathing my father's blade. I pick up the long end of my chemise, cutting off a piece.
"You have...daggers," he says dazedly, eyes drooping. His head swaying oddly like it's too heavy for him.
After I return the dagger. I hold the strap of the material to his arm, securing it around his wound to apply constant pressure, but not too tight to hamper circulation. His cheeks tauten for a split-second before easing. He is fortunate that they are no splinters inside or it would have been a lot more painful.
"There, that should stop the bleeding for now, until we can get you proper medical assistance."
Solaris bops an exaggerated nod. "Thank...you."
I look at him closely. My index finger touches the tip of his chin to steer his face to me.
"Are you sure you are alright, Solaris?"
He brushes off my concern with a bumbling wave. "Yes... head hurts, feeling lightheaded is all."
I nod. Pushing down on my thighs, I rise. My eyes scour the irreparable damage inflicted on the carousine and all of us injured as a consequence. Which I suppose was the intent and more. My eyes search to find even a glimpse of molten brown hair, but I don't see it. I do not see him.
Vince isn't here.
Where are our guards?
Primus Kelan?
I instantly manoeuvre to one of the closest exits, which are the window holes. I halt once I see Dario laying on his back, clutching his side. His face contorted in a pained grimace.
"Dario?"
He grumbles something, and his arm raises to flash me two-fingers up.
I nod and drop to my knees. My torso dives forward and I crawl out the carousine, using my elbows, clambering up to stand tall. The carousine stands wilted on its head at the foot of the slope that probably leads back up to the main road.
I glance behind me at the stretch of silent woods. Oak-brown, knotted arms of the trees rise ever upwards, as far as my head can lift.
"Aurora—wait."
I look down and see Solaris's head peeking out from the window hole. I offer my aid and with his good arm; he heaves it up and slaps his hand in mine. I help him up. He swivels around whilst cradling his wounded arm to his chest.
I advance only a few heartbeats to see the front of the carousine. Ahead of it, there's a mass heap of lithe forms. The stallions that drew the carousine are all collapsed on top of each other with their necks bent at unnatural angles. I suck in a sharp breath before I spin around, slamming a hand over my mouth with my face to the ground. Squeezing my eyes shut for a moment.
"Aurora...you...alright?"
Bile rising in my throat. I force it down.
Together, we round the rear of the carousine and start the short trek up the slope.
"What in the stars just happened?" Each step heavy, shifting my weight from side to side.
"We were...attacked," Solaris says. Still disorientated.
"Really? I had not noticed," I say wryly. "I merely presumed that our assailants wanted to redecorate the interior of our carousine with our blood."
I crest the brink of the slope first. I stop dead in my tracks.
This part of the main road, where our carousine was blasted off is littered with corpses. Bodies all encumbered in the same intricate uniform. Black clothing with matching headgears and face masks that only spare their unblinking eyes. Amidst the bodies are our guards, slowing weaving through the carnage with their swords still drawn. Black blood trailing down the edge of their blades and dripping onto the ground. Their armour blemished with splattered blood, enmeshed droplets of black.
To my far left I see Vince exclaiming his anger towards a group of three guards. His words imperceptible but the emotion, apparent. Behind them, there are only a few horses left. The rest were probably spooked during the attack and fled. Ahead of them is an enormous tree that had been cut, and now it blocks the path beyond. Which was obviously the loud thud we heard and felt initially before the attack.
My gaze glides back in front of me. Something in my periphery beckons my attention. I rotate to my right, sauntering toward a corpse sprawled on the ground. I move to stand just beside its limp hand. And in the centre is a marking of pentangle with an outline of a flame etched in each section.
I feel my fury within, burning out any trace of irrepressible sympathy.
Those... wretches.
My body stiffens at the sudden strong presence that looms at my rearguard. A tangible presence that bespeaks strength with no show executed or even words uttered.
"Hera Aurora, are you unhurt?"
I must have hit my head harder than I thought. Because I could have sworn that I heard a tincture of worry in his tenor. It must be my mild concussion.
I revolve cautiously. His gaze examines my face. A flicker of emotion flares in his gaze. As quickly as his eyes go wide, they retract back to normal size. "You are bleeding." His hand lifts from his side but he jerks it back to its place as if it had moved on its own whim.
A crack in his resolve. A spray of black blood streaked across his one cheek.
I flare a brow. "Oh... so you care about my wellbeing now?"
A shroud of solemnity falls back on his face. One that is barred with an impenetrable look that hides anything and everything from me. "It is my duty to concern myself with the wellbeing of all the lives that the High King entrusts me with. Whether I care for them or not."
I shake my head. My gaze diverts from him to a guard who jabs his elbow back, then he runs his sword through one of the assailant's chests. His shoulders heave up, gurgling sounds are heard before he falls back down. Dead.
I must have looked as distraught as I feel because Primus Kelan looks behind him. His gaze returns to me nonchalantly as if it was nothing. To him, it probably is. Ending a life means nothing to the ones that spend their entire life taking the lives of others.
My eyes flutter wildly as if trying to ward off the image from my mind. I turn, and round the one assailant that I was inspecting, lowering to a squat.
"My father always said to destroy an enemy is to make him a friend. To make him a friend is to know him. I studied the annals of the Ulris. I know of their wicked rituals and their... markings." I gesture to the one on the palm of his hand. "The Vulkra is just a branch of the malignant autonomy of the Ulris. But I never knew of them to inflict ruination so... blatantly. They usually operate their dark magic from the shadows, far from sight."
For a brief moment, Primus Kelan says nothing. I pretend to assess the markings further, to distract me. For I know that if I dare look up into those eyes that are darker than the night. I'll be forever lost in them.
"You speak as if you have experienced such destruction."
My gaze locked on the pentangle. Undying resentment festers inside of me.
"My family was just another victim of their mindless cruelty during the Pavelia wars; the Great Realm war. And the time before that, and the time before that."
"But how—"
I spurt to full height. Evading his gaze, I say, "You should send your guards to assist the Herems, many of them are injured." I pass him, making my start to a lost-looking Solaris.
"As are you," he says to my back.
"I will survive."
After a while, all the Herems are recovered from the carousine and Duce Merian's carriage had fallen on the other side. He too is salvaged. All of us are assembled by the remaining horses with Duce Merian at our side, ringed by the Avangarde soldiers.
"I thought the purpose of having all you stiff-necked soldiers present was to ensure our safety," Brennon says. Coddling his wrist, pointedly motioning to it. "Well... I do not feel very safe."
Words form in my mouth, rushing out before I have a chance to stop them. "Yet you are, alive because of them. You should be offering them your gratitude."
Brennon's face sours. "No one asked for your opinion."
"And you think we want to hear yours?" I throw back.
Duce Merian lifts a diplomatic hand. "A thousand apologies for this act of violence, but this was to be expected. You were all warned of the complications and dangers that comes with the mounting civil unrest in the realm."
My words take will again. "I think it is more than just civil unrest. The Vulkra's intervention just proves it. They usually reside in one of the dimensions of their hellscapes. And they send fiends and creatures of the dark to do their bidding, but now they lead attacks? On us no less." I look back at him imploringly to see if he understands what I'm suggesting. "One of us, the next future Ruler of Urium. High King Urus's heir is dead. Then if all of us are slain, all current prospects to take the throne. If we fall, wars will be waged to create a new line of succession. Each one claiming a stronger blood right."
I mine into Duce Merian's eyes, unearthing the truth of our mutual qualm.
"Can we debate mad conspiracy theories later. And resume our journey to wherever our next location is," Markiveus submits. "It's nearly night, and we have faced enough perils for one day."
Duce Merian welcomes the distraction, clapping his hands together. "Yes, we have a long journey ahead of us, now lengthened by the absence of our mode of transport. Fortunately, we are already at the orifice of the celestial forest. We will be near the threshold of the Terra soon."
Sounds of stunned mutterings burst from the other Herems.
The celestial forests?
The Terra?
All I know of them—all that anyone knows of them is that they are forest nymphs that hide behind the obscenely fortified gates of their woody citadel.
Is it spectacular or is it horrid and frightening? Couldn't say.
"Duce Merian," Dario says. He shoulders past the others to stand at the front line of the inner ring. "My Regnum, Regnum Cypress, has a long-standing alliance with the Terra. For cycles they have supplied our lands with earth globs to revitalise our fields. And not once did they accept our invitation to thank them for their service nor was one ever given."
He shakes his head. "They never leave the celestial forest, nor will they ever allow foreigners to breach their gates," he says with quiet certitude.
"But they have," Duce Merian says casually. "I suppose they want the honour of hosting the future Ruler. To look for the one, they must serve all."
We disperse and ready ourselves for the crossing. Duce Merian, the gravely injured Herems, and I are set to ride horseback on the remaining few stallions. Whilst the others and the guards trek on foot around us. The sun stands on the ridge of a distant mountain, its smelted light oozes and spreads across the horizon with a stria of red.
It was not just an ambush, but a coordinated attack. They knew where we would be, exactly where and when. Our timeline was moved up at the last minute, when we were supposed to meet with the High King and Queen for the last time. Then receive our royal send-off.
So, the only way they could have known is if someone informed them.