The Secluded Queen, page 21
Amaryllis shook her head no again and defiantly stomped one of her hooves.
Veronica gritted her teeth in frustration. “Fine, I will go by myself. If I get killed, good luck convincing anyone at Castle Myra of your tale. Considering you can’t speak for another lunar cycle, negotiations may prove to be rather difficult. You do not have long before Sargon sacks the castle.” The Virtuusian did not make any effort to reply. No reply is a reply.
With that, Veronica dismounted, then moved into the forest, as stealthily as she knew how. She glanced back after a few paces and discovered that the unicorn had vanished without a trace. She was alone, and Amaryllis had abandoned her without hesitation. The odds of success were abysmal, as it was now down to a lone Queen against a corrupt High Council, a potential horde of battle-hardened men, and a man capable of wielding magic in a land void of such. Her knees shook, and she began to feel the cold of fear steal her drive. She forced her legs to move forward, step by step. Instead of giving in to the unyielding urge to curl up into a little ball on the forest floor and cry, she gripped her spear tighter, swallowed down her fear, and pressed forward into the smoke-filled woods.
The soldiers Amaryllis had heard were closer than she had realized. She was unsure if they were Sargon’s men, but based on their weapons and armor, they certainly were not a group of tradesmen. There were ten soldiers in total: three were cutting through the vegetation, four were clearing the fallen trees as best they could, two were pushing wagons from behind, and one in full battle armor was giving instructions. Oddly enough, the man was wearing the red-styled armor of their rival country, Phoenicia. The soldiers were busy cutting down the trees that were in the path of three large covered wagons, all of which were being pulled by a pair of oxen. Those must be supply wagons... they are cutting through the forest to avoid the main roads. Cunning brutes.
It was at that point, taking cover beside a boulder, lying flat on her stomach in the dirt, looking down on the relatively small group of soldiers, that Veronica realized that she had no idea what she was doing. Even though this may be a great folly, I have to try. She tried to figure out the best approach. The men at the front had no swords but carried axes. The men pushing did not wear any armor at all and were not armed, as far as she could tell. The man instructing the troops wore heavy armor and had a crossbow on his waist, while the men moving trees were armored and armed with short swords.
She resolved that she would not kill the oxen, but rather damage the wagons so they would have trouble hitching the oxen to them. The oxen don’t deserve to die. She also was not keen on the idea of killing another person so soon after the men at her cabin. Veronica had not recovered from the trauma caused by the skirmish outside her unicorn glass cabin. During the attack on the homestead, she was able to and willing to kill in order to protect her friends and her home. But in this moment, she was the attacker, not the defender, and that made it feel more like murder than anything else.
One fact was plain: there was no way that she would survive a skirmish alone against ten trained soldiers, which meant that she would have to strike at the wagons fast and then escape back out into the forest. I need a distraction, but how? Maybe I could pretend that I was in distress, and these brutes would surely come to seek out a lonely woman in the woods. One good scream should bring them all running!
With her plan now decided, she noticed how sweaty her hands were on the unicorn glass spear. She was terrified. If this went awry, she very well could end up dead. But she was the Queen, and just as Edward had always faced their invaders, weapon in hand, she had to face them as well. Edward would be proud of me, even if I ended up dead. With a renewed sense of purpose, granted to her by her dead King and Husband, she backed behind the boulder she took cover beside, then, after taking a few steadying breaths, let loose a bloodcurdling scream that cut through the woods like a hot knife.
The sounds of cutting wood and shouting stopped and were replaced by intense discussion amongst the men. Veronica wasted no time in moving from her spot behind the tree and heading to the rear of the supply train. She was able to catch fleeting glimpses of the men as she moved through the woods in a roundabout route, all of whom looked a bit too eager to help the poor woman, distressed and alone in the forest. They were rapidly approaching the boulder she had hidden behind, weapons drawn, huge grins across each of their faces. Pigs.
She was nearly to the wagons when she heard the footsteps following her, tracking her, chasing her. They must have realized they had been tricked. Veronica set aside stealth and sprinted towards the wagons, and though she couldn’t see anyone immediately behind her, she felt as though the gruesome men were right on top of her. Shouts of “Over here!” and “Someone’s heading towards the wagons” chased after her, sending waves of fear coursing through her back. If they catch up to me, I’m doomed.
Veronica burst from the trees at full sprint, heading directly for the first wagon. She drove the spear through the center of the yolk that bound both the oxen together, the unicorn glass cutting through both hardwood and metal with one slice. The cut was so clean that the oxen didn’t realize that they were free from the wagon. Move it, you big dumb ox! She flipped her spear around and smacked the beasts in the rear as hard as she could. They howled in surprise and pain and thundered forwards, past the second wagon, deep into the brush.
The next wagon was not far, and she was able to slice the yolk of the second oxen pair, who didn’t need any coaxing after seeing their fellow’s escape. The remains of their yolk dragged the forest floor as they followed the first pair into the forest. Finally, she made it to the third and final wagon, and raised her spearhead to free the final oxen. Before she could cut the last pair of oxen free, a crushing weight landed squarely on her back, shoving her down, pushing her face first into the dirt, the weight of whatever hit her being so great that it hopelessly pinned her down.
A grinding voice came from the man on top of her. “You stupid weasel, how dare you interfere with Sargon’s supplies?”
Veronica, pinned to the ground with the air knocked out of her, could have kicked herself if she could reach. A driver! At least one driver must have stayed behind to tend to the oxen. I cannot believe I didn’t think of that! Of course, it was too late now.
“Now, what do we have here?” The man easily pried the spear from Veronica’s hand. “A Virtuusian spear? Now, how does someone from this part of the world end up with that?”
Veronica tried to struggle against the weight of the man, but it was no use. She simply did not have the strength or the leverage to break free from him. Fortunately, her unicorn glass armor supported his vast weight and protected her sternum from being crushed, so breathing was still not an issue. But the only thing she could do was swallow her pride and call for Amaryllis and hope that she heard her and that she felt inclined to assist. “Amaryllis! Help!”
The man was taken aback. “A woman? In full armor? I have never in my life heard of such a thing.” He chuckled darkly. “Now I have a few new ideas in me head on just how I’m to teach you a lesson.”
Veronica was in a total state of panic, and the sounds of the other men were near the wagons. “Amaryllis! He—”
The man put a filthy hand over her mouth that smelled so foul that it nearly made her gag. “There’s no one here but you an’ me, woman. This A-mar-yll-is ain’t going to save you from what you have coming to you.”
Veronica bit down hard on one of the filthy fingers that wrapped around her face. The man howled in pain and yanked his bleeding hand away from her mouth, then started furiously pounding on her head, then her back, then her shoulders, with his other fist.
He uttered a guttural growl. “You’ll pay for that woman!”
The blows didn’t get through her armor, but the impacts were still felt, the shock waves coursing through her body; each and every one of the blows was painful. He would beat her to death if she did not get away. He raised his fist for another crushing blow, and in his fury, he shifted his weight off her back long enough that she was able to twist beneath him, knocking him further off balance. She then wrestled her arms and legs beneath her and used every muscle in her body to push upwards, which was enough to free her. She rolled away and climbed up onto her feet.
The driver still had her spear but was not yet up. Veronica grabbed the spear and wrestled it from his grasp, rose the end above her head, and brought it crashing down onto the top of his unshielded head with a crack. The man’s eyes glazed, and he fell, twitching to the ground.
A whizzing noise came from the rear wagon, and a crossbow bolt hit into her side with such force that it knocked her backward and nearly off her feet. The arrow had simply deflected off her armor, but once again, her armor didn’t protect her from the impact. She turned, wincing in pain, to see the main officer, crossbow held in between his legs, loading another bolt to fire. The other men were swarming around from behind him, like a pack of wolves, wielding axes and short swords. Veronica sliced the last yolk of oxen free and sprinted into the forest, with the sound of the second bolt splintering a tree directly behind her.
The men were gaining on her, shouting obscenities. All Veronica could do was run as fast as she could. Facing that many trained men would not end well, but she was already tiring, still fatigued from the day prior, and it most likely would come to them catching her and forcing her last stand anyway. A man had gained enough ground to be able to throw an axe at her, which just missed her head as she darted below a branch. She was in some serious trouble, and she couldn’t run forever. Her legs were feeling weak, and she couldn’t breathe. One thing is for sure: I don’t want to die running.
There was a small outcropping of rock ahead, and if she could just get her legs to carry her there, that is where she was going to make her stand. Three days ago, I was living peacefully at my home. Now, my home is gone, and I am probably going to die. Oh, how Nurtia likes to toy with her victims. Tears began to well in her eyes, and, while blinded from her own emotion, her toe clipped a root hidden within a bush. Stumbling forward and falling onto her stomach, she knew that she had made a fatal error. She quickly rolled to her back and raised her spear just in time for the first soldier to reach her. The spearhead cut through his light armor, rendering flesh and bone, and impaling him on the pole. She did not have the leverage to pull her spear free before the next combatant arrived.
The second soldier, one of the men with an axe, maneuvered around his impaled comrade and brought his axe blade down onto her chest with a crash. The shock from the hit made Veronica’s body ache, but when he raised his axe to strike her again, they both discovered that the armor had shattered his axe. He threw it aside and straddled her, pinning her to the ground, and began to throttle her with a set of gnarly, misshapen hands. Her air was immediately cut off, and she quickly started to see stars. At least it will be over quickly.
The sound of cracking thunder ripped through the air, a purple flash stunning all present. Amaryllis had appeared, snarling, eyes engulfed in flame. She gored the man who had Veronica pinned, then kicked him into the air, sending him crashing into a nearby tree. Veronica gasped for air as a flash of Amaryllis’ purple shield blinded her. The officer must have arrived with his crossbow. She quickly got up and wrenched her spear free of the first soldier, still cursing and dying from the wound.
Veronica rushed to Amaryllis, who had been surrounded by the remaining soldiers with short swords, the remaining axe man, all supported by the fully armored officer, who was knocking yet another bolt to his crossbow at a safe distance. Veronica let out a war cry and charged, stabbing the axe man through the back, all the way up to her hand guard. Amaryllis struck another soldier with her horn, while the other men tried to grab hold of her mane to subdue her.
Another flash of purple erupted next to Amaryllis’ chest. Veronica struck another man in the back with the pole of her spear, then spun the blade around and across him, cutting him deep enough that his legs went rubbery, and he collapsed to the forest floor.
Amaryllis allowed a soldier to grab her mane, at which point she jerked her neck forward and backward, rag-dolling the man, using his body to parry the strikes of the short swordsman. The man on her mane quickly lost his grip and was sent flying into the air, headed towards her rear. Amaryllis bucked at the perfect time, her rear hooves clashing with armor and sending him at least thirty feet into the air and a hundred yards away. She skipped left, and another bolt stuck in a tree behind them.
The pair dispatched the few remaining swordsmen and advanced on the officer, horn glowing, spear in hand, both drunk with blood and battle. Not having time to knock another bolt, the officer drew his sword in a smooth and confident motion and stared down both Queen and mythical beast alike. Veronica struck first, but the officer easily deflected her attack with his sword. He advanced like lightning, and, before Veronica could react, brought his blade across her shoulder and her chest in two swift cuts that, if the armor had not been as potent as it was, would have ended the Queen. Amaryllis did not waste the opportunity to lunge, and she did not miss. Her horn went through his neck and out the other side, his blood spraying across Veronica’s armor and face. He choked, dropped his sword, and locked eyes with the Queen as his soul left him, flickering like a sputtering candle as Nurtia claimed him.
Veronica fell to her knees, tears running down her face, mixing with blood and soil. She looked up at the unicorn and demanded, “Where were you? You abandoned me!” The fire diminished from Amaryllis’ eyes, and a hard glare remained. No feeling other than what Veronica interpreted as resentment. It became clear to Veronica that Amaryllis was trying to send her a message: that she was not happy to be working with a human and that she was no subject of this pitiful human Queen.
Nevertheless, the unicorn knelt beside her, offering her a ride. Veronica was still seething, but she tried to contain her feelings and act like the Queen she was. She wiped the tears from her face as best she could with gloved hands, rose to her feet, and stood tall, facing the mythical creature. “You come to me, Queen of this land, demanding an army of me and the lives of my countrymen, and yet you offer no help to me in return.”
Amaryllis didn’t move but remained kneeling in front of her.
Veronica continued, “It was your kind that created this war, and it is you who came to me for help. Yet, somehow, I am to follow your direction. I am your servant?” She smacked her spear into the earth, and her face contorted with anger. “My country is a peaceful one, who only wars with others in self-defense. We may be only humans to you, but we are proud of what we are, and you are asking great things of me, of my nation, and of my people. Yet, you will not support me, even though the course I want to take will help me accomplish what you asked of me in the first place. Your decisions and caution are illogical and foolish. You should have helped me with that supply train. Not after I engaged, but from the beginning. Instead, you abandoned me to watch from afar, then jumped in at the very last second, playing the hero in some deranged way to get me to break and obey you instead of my own conscience. Your cowardice and manipulation are deeply insulting to me, and it makes me question whether you will abandon my countrymen to die as soon as there is a chance of the battle ending in defeat.”
Amaryllis stiffened but remained kneeling.
The Queen smashed the ground once more with her spear. “Will you abandon us?”
The unicorn sighed loudly, then shook her head no.
Finally, some acknowledgment. “Are you willing to die alongside us?”
She hesitated, then nodded, all while still kneeling on the ground.
Veronica gave a swift, business-like nod. “Good.” She mounted Amaryllis, and they continued on.
The excitement from nearly being killed began to wane, and Veronica felt an overwhelming level of fatigue. The weakness was so intense that she had trouble keeping her head up, her eyes open, and her grip on the unicorn’s mane. One thing was for sure in Veronica’s mind; she was ready for this to be all over. She was tired of fighting, dodging arrows, and she was particularly tired of killing. Every face of every man that she had a hand in killing haunted her, and they seemed to manifest in her mind’s eye as they rode, there being nothing to distract her from the guilt. I killed people. They probably had family and friends, all of whom were actively praying for their safe return, and I was the monster who destroyed their hope of their family being reunited and happy. Would it have been better if I had been slain? It would not have been fair, but many lives have been taken to spare mine. Her eyes filled with tears, and the air from the ride pushed them horizontally across her cheekbones and into her ears. She sniffled and tried to wipe her nose as best she could, only managing to mix it all together on her face. She threw her head back, exasperated. I am so tired.
Her exhaustion was so severe that she nearly fell off the back of Amaryllis. Nausea and dizziness made her world spin. It didn’t help that she hadn’t had a solid meal in days and that, even when she was at the homestead, she had been cutting out eggs, her primary source of protein. She fell forward and mumbled into Amaryllis’ closest ear, “I can’t continue on; I need to get something to eat, and I need to rest.”
Amaryllis didn’t answer, but her horn started spiraling with light. They altered their course and pulsed forward several times, ending the magical ride beneath odd trees covered in vines, surrounded by crumbling stone structures – ruins from a civilization long since faded into Nurtia’s wake. Veronica stumbled into the nearest structure, collapsing on the moss-covered stone floor in a heap, her head still spinning from fatigue.
