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Sir Richard began to help her to her feet. “My Queen! Are you alright, my Queen?”
Veronica allowed him to pull her up, though she felt odd. It took a few moments before her soul began to feel like it fit her body again, like a child trying to find the finger holes in a glove. She felt extremely dizzy and nauseous while her soul fumbled about inside of her body. At last, it found its fit, and in a snap, her discomfort was gone, and she felt her strength return to her.
Veronica blinked a few times and shuddered. I just witnessed the afterlife, or at least a part of it. Traveling to and from felt horrible. She looked at her friends. “What happened?”
Erika folded her arms. “I came up from the rear to tell you something was not right, and then you started mumbling to yourself about blue lights and turning around like you were looking for something. Then you screamed and passed out.”
Sir Richard pulled off a glove and felt her forehead. “My Queen, are you fit to continue on?”
“Yes, I believe so.”
“Are you sure? There is no shame in illness. If you are unwell, it is best for you to rest and fight another day.”
Veronica picked up her spear that had tumbled to the floor and secured it to her back. “I’m fine.”
As fine as I can be.
It was all too much for her to take in at once.
I have the power of Cybele inside of me, my mother isn’t sure I am her father’s daughter, and Edward is not in the Halls of Nurtia. Is he alive? Is he dead but tied to the earth somehow, waiting for me to free him? If I survive this counterattack, I must visit the mausoleum.
Veronica rubbed her forehead, bewildered.
I have an undead army at my disposal.
My father murdered my mother.
Richard nodded, the question remaining in his caring eyes. “Let us carry on then. It will not be long before we either reach a passage out of this cursed place or are halted by a dead end.”
Indeed, they reached the end of the passage within a few minutes, but instead of a door, the sortie was greeted by a would-be impassable wall of roots. They were so thick and hardened from age, it would have been impossible to cut through if it wasn’t for Veronica’s spear, which sliced through the gnarled hardwood with ease. Cool air rushed in from the other side of the natural barricade. She and Erika, the most petite of the party, squeezed their way through, entering a small cove, which seemed to be hidden from view from passersby by overgrown vegetation and a stone overhang above their heads.
Veronica peered out from behind the vines and weeds, immediately recognizing that they were in the Forever Green Forest. Nearby, she could hear the sounds of a catapult firing and the sounds of enemy soldiers hard at work reloading. She remained still for some time, trying to get a handle on the situation, but when no enemy soldiers crossed her path, she motioned for the others to stay hidden while she ventured out alone.
Erika grabbed her arm and pulled her back under the cover of the hidden passageway. She whispered directly into her ear, “Let me come with you. I can help you stay out of sight, and if you still get spotted, you’ll need some backup.”
Veronica agreed, and the two women left the shelter of the outcrop and dashed, heads down, for a group of trees directly ahead of them. They made it without being seen, took cover, and then surveyed the area. A few yards away, a group of men were loading a catapult, the same one Veronica had heard earlier. They were lifting an incredibly large boulder into the machine, and then, once that was done, they pulled a lever that fired the boulder towards the castle. There were several other catapults just beyond the first one, grouped closely together so that they would conveniently only need a single ammo pile. Two wagons pulled by oxen entered the catapult area. As the wagons lumbered through the clearing and pulled up next to the ammo pile, Veronica noted that they were a similar shape and size to the wagons she had encountered while journeying back to Castle Myra. Then, a small group of men jumped down from where they rode. They hastily unloaded another boulder from each wagon, then returned the way they came.
Amaryllis would never let me live it down if she learned I risked my neck to slow the transport of a few measly boulders.
She turned to Erika and whispered as quietly as she could, directly into her ear, “If we plan this right, I’m sure we could take out all of those catapults at once.”
She shook her head and murmured, “Not before they get reinforced by the men in the wagons.” Another two wagons pulled up and began unloading their cargo. “They already outnumber us.” There had hardly been five minutes between the new group and the last group.
“We will split into two groups. You take half of the men up the wagon supply trail and start ambushing them as they come your way to resupply the catapults. That will stop them from overwhelming us while my group attacks and disables the catapults.”
Erika considered the plan, then nodded in agreement. “Just don’t destroy the catapults unless you absolutely have to.”
“Why?”
Erika grinned. “Because if we turn them just a little bit, we might be able to start hitting the men at the gates.”
Veronica smiled. “I like that idea.”
They both dashed back to the concealed entrance of the ancient fortress, where Erika selected the stealthiest of the men and left the burly brutes, Sir Richard included, for Veronica’s attack on the catapults. Erika winked at Veronica. “If it goes south, get out of there.”
Veronica snorted back a laugh. “I’ll do my best to handle most of the fighting.” She clapped her new friend on the shoulder. “If the wagons become too much for you, fall back to the catapults, and we will destroy as many as we can before we retreat back into Castle Myra.”
She nodded in agreement, quietly ordering her men to cut a larger hole in the roots so Veronica’s men of larger stature could be ready to advance, then disappeared into the darkness and cover of the surrounding trees.
Veronica remained, listening. Moments passed by to the sound of catapult fire, and then Veronica heard a clamor in the distance. The Queen turned to Sir Richard and her men, all clad in superior unicorn glass armor. “That’s our cue. Remain hidden until I give the order to attack.”
Every one of them dashed to the tree cover overlooking the catapults, crouched down, readied their weapons, and waited patiently for Veronica’s order. She watched as the catapult operators launched another several stones into the air, then began trying to lift another into the machine. It is as good a time as any. “Charge!”
Sir Richard waved his sword in the air, shouting, “You will rue the day that you faced Sir Richard of Gordion!” The other men yelled loudly as they came down into the clearing. In a heartbeat, they were at the first catapult, the operators of which still had their hands full of boulders. Veronica launched her spear towards the enemy and struck the back of one of the men holding the heavy boulder, bringing him down. The other men, now off balance and surprised, lost their grip on the boulder and let it come crashing down on top of them, pinning a few of them underneath. Those not pinned scrambled at their waists for their swords but couldn’t get them out of their sheath before they were tackled to the ground and killed by Sir Richard and the Castle Guard.
Veronica yanked her spear free from the dying man and led the charge against the next catapult. These men were now aware of the attack and had set their boulders down, drawing their swords. It is time to prove to my people that their Queen is willing to fight and die for them.
The closest man lunged forward, stabbing towards Veronica’s face. She dug one of her heels into the ground before her, pivoted, and spun around the sword. She brought the tip of her spear around her in a curving motion and stabbed it into his side. That man went limp, but another man made to attack her, only to be parried by a Castle Guardsman, who locked into a fierce battle with the enemy soldier, swords flying. Two more Castle Guards arrived and began sword fighting with the others at the second catapult.
The rest of the catapult operators were swooping in for the attack. It was now three to one, and Sir Richard was enjoying every second of it. He danced through the enemy, delivering deathblow after deathblow, laughing and jeering at the dying men as he moved on to the next. The Castle Guard’s unicorn glass armor also gave them the upper hand. As the operators were only wearing either light armor or leather, every successful cut from the Castle Guard proved to be fatal to their enemies. At the same time, the attacks from Sargon’s men would only ricochet off their armor and would even shatter the attacker’s blade.
Veronica blocked a downward strike from a large man by holding her spear pole with both hands and raising it above her head. The sword shattered, metal fragments falling onto her, one of which sliced her cheek as it fell. His face turned from wrathful to bewildered, and while he was caught off guard, Veronica shoved him back, hit him once with the base of the pole on the side of his head, then spun the spear over her head and stabbed him in the chest.
She had a brief reprieve from the enemy and took the opportunity to survey the battle, and her heart soared when she saw that there were not many of Sargon’s forces left. Most were either dead or dying, and the rest of the enemy was forced to retreat towards the main camps, hollering for reinforcements as the Castle Guard drove them backward with relentless and vengeful strikes. As the battle quieted, Veronica could still hear the sounds of battle further up the wagon trail.
One of the men noticed her cut. “Queen Veronica, are you injured?”
Veronica felt the blood running down her face. The gash was deep, but it wasn’t life-threatening. “I’m fine. Take yourself and two others and go reinforce the second group up the trail.”
He nodded, grabbed a couple of men who seemed to know him well, and jogged up the wagon trail. Veronica grabbed one of the sides of the nearest catapult and started turning it. The other men quickly joined her, and after some effort, they had the catapult turned away from Castle Myra and angled to fire on the attacking army. The boulders felt heavier than the actual catapult and were more awkward to carry, but the small group managed to load one into the machine.
The lever was pulled, and the catapult sprang into life, sending the shot into the sky. One of the soldiers climbed a nearby tree to see the castle gates clearly from their position. “Shot hit! Many Casualties!”
I don’t know whether to be happy or feel sick at that. She helped the men turn the second catapult, who immediately started loading and firing it along with the first.
“Shot true!”
“Shot Wide! Adjust south!”
Veronica wanted to see their progress, so she climbed the tree for a better look. Sargon’s army was vast. It looked like a river of men, horses, and torches, a torrential attack on the gates of Castle Myra. She saw with dismay that many of Sargon’s army had successfully gained access to the ramparts surrounding the castle via makeshift ladders and were currently trying to overpower the Castle Guard. With every shot from the captured catapults, a boulder landed in the middle of Sargon’s army, rolling forward and cutting lines of death through the attacking forces.
She began climbing down the tall tree, heart soaring. Their attack had been a success. She had organized a group of men and led a successful attack against Sargon, stifling his ability to breach the castle walls. I am a Queen to be reckoned with. My people will know that I am for the people of Anatolia, and this small victory will give them some hope. She breathed deep, thoroughly enjoying the win. She had felt like a failure ever since she had returned to Castle Myra, and this success was sorely needed.
#
Halfway down the tree, she saw Erika’s party returning from the wagon trail, weary from the fighting, walking slowly. Veronica raised a hand to them and waved. No response came. They must not be able to see me because of the branches. She tried calling to them, “We have taken the catapults! Come help us get them all firing!”
There was Erika, walking in the middle of the group. She looked up the tree and caught Veronica’s eye, sent her a grotesque smile, then, once she had reached Veronica’s men, raised her crossbow, and downed the nearest Castle Guard in a single blow through a gap in his unicorn glass armor. The others attacked as well, killing three more from Veronica’s group.
Sir Richard rounded on the attackers, shouting, “Treachery! Defend the Queen!”
Amid the chaos of the betrayal, red tendrils of smoke came from nowhere, bunching together to form the silhouette of a man, who then brushed it away. Veronica couldn’t believe her eyes.
Sargon is already here?
A soldier was butchered by a possessed Castle Guardsman right next to Sargon, who remained sickeningly indifferent, even as blood from the slain man coated him and began dripping down his side. Sargon held up the palm of his hand, and the red smoke began spiraling down his arm. The red plumes of magic dispersed, stretching out to touch each of Veronica’s surviving men, each stiffening unnaturally as the smoke made contact. Red power was now coursing down the bodies of her men, robbing them of their free will and forcing them to obey the monstrous sorcerer’s commands. She made to run but stopped herself. In her moment of triumph, she had forgotten to signal Turhal and the Chaktu to attack.
I have to raise the flag. I must signal the attack.
She fumbled and pulled the flag free from beneath her armor, and started to climb back up the tree. Arrows hit the trunk with sickening thuds as she rose. She climbed until the branches could not possibly hold her weight any longer and attached the flag to the tree. It wasn’t large, but she was happy to see that it worked for the signal to Turhal and the Chaktu.
She watched as the grand armies of Turhal and Nomad alike emerged from their concealed camp, the soldiers forming strong lines of black and gold, the Nomads spreading out to attack sporadically. The Turhal catapults began raining death into the enemy force, crushing men and softening their battle lines. Time seemed to stand still as the armies neared each other; Sargon’s forces began pulling away from Castle Myra to counter the advance of this new foe but were disorganized and ineffective. The clash of the armies was spectacular, horrific, and awe-inspiring. The Armies of Turhal pushed into Sargon’s forces, cutting and hacking and killing without mercy. Their fervor caused the enemy’s haphazard lines to break before them. Meanwhile, the nomads whirled and danced through the enemy, sending many poor possessed souls to Nurtia’s Hall.
A crossbow bolt hit her center and knocked her from the tree, the branches slowing her on the way down to the soil below. Sir Richard was instantly by her side, battling his own men with a ferocity that could only be rivaled by a wildcat. “My Queen, are you injured?”
Veronica had the air knocked from her from the fall. She answered him amid a flurry of coughs. “No, but we need help! Make your way to the Chaktu and find Urartum. We have to maintain control of the catapults!”
“I must remain by your side, my Queen.”
“No! Follow my orders!” The next thing Veronica knew, she was running away from Sir Richard, chased by her men, heading directly towards a hostile army’s encampment, alone and without aid. She entered the first camp for Sargon’s army, diving into a random tent, which was luckily empty of men but held some large clay pots stacked neatly in the middle of the tent. She fell on her back and pushed herself further into the tent, heart pounding, until her back clanked against the pots behind her. Sir Richard’s voice faded into the distance, issuing challenges to each foe and mocking them as they fell by his hand. Go well, Sir Richard, make haste.
The sounds of running entered the camp, coming from the same direction Veronica had fled. Sargon was shouting to the men, “Where is she? You idiots let her escape again! In the name of Urartu, find her! Or I will have you all killed, and no glory will be yours!”
Urartu. Laexor wasn’t lying after all. She heard footsteps scatter, heading in all different directions. She hurried behind the pile of pots, hiding from anyone who might try to search for her in the tent. The pots were perfect cylinders, with an image of a knife engraved on the side of each. They were completely sealed without a lid or seams, solid pieces of pottery. Then her tent door burst open, and in marched the soldier who had, only moments before, asked her about her face cut, alongside Erika.
“She’s in here!”
Veronica picked up one of the pots and threw it, striking the once-kind soldier. Red power erupted from the shattered canister with so much force that the man was sent spiraling up and through the tent’s ceiling.
By the mother... These canisters are Sargon’s source of Virtuuce! She continued throwing the pots as fast as possible, sending Erika diving out of the tent and ducking for cover. But she didn’t let up. She threw pot after pot outside the tent, all of which emitted powerful explosions upon hitting the ground. She picked up the last canister and made to throw it, but from the back of the tent, Sargon roared, “How dare you! You do not know the powers you interfere with!”
Veronica turned and threw the pot directly into Sargon’s materializing face, blowing him out of the canvas of the tent. Veronica fled the tent out the hole Sargon had made as he exited and sprinted for the castle. She skidded to a halt as she came to another tent. I wonder... She blocked the slash of a soldier and tripped him with the end of her spear pole, dashing inside the tent.
Just as she had thought, the tent was filled with Virtuuce canisters. She didn’t have time to throw them individually, and they had to be destroyed. Veronica took aim and hurled her spear directly into the middle of the pile. The resulting explosion was so powerful that she was blasted into the air, landing several yards outside of the now-leveled tent, landing on her back, and sliding to a halt. She inspected her arms and legs, half expecting to be missing at least one of them. Sargon appeared before the tent and fell to his knees, crying out in anguish, “No! This can’t be happening!” He threw his head back and yelled, “Master, I have failed you!” He absorbed what he could, but most of the released power dissipated into the ether.
She pushed herself back onto her feet and ran around the way she had come. I hope this is the right way! I really need to work on my sense of direction. The forest wasn’t far, but she was quickly spotted again, and before she could make it to the woods, Erika rushed her from the side and tackled her to the ground, pinning her there.
“Erika! Get off me!” Veronica struggled beneath her friend, swinging her elbows behind her, occasionally striking her, who was then trying to put her into a headlock. Veronica threw her head backward in a desperate head-butt, hitting Erika squarely in the nose. There was a sickening crunch, and her friend fell off her back, cursing in pain.
Veronica pulled herself up but was knocked down again by another soldier, who proceeded to kick her in the ribs painfully. More soldiers began to catch up, and out of the corner of her eye, she saw Sargon disappear in a cloud of red smoke, only to start materializing right beside her. Men were slicing at her armor; she used her forearms to desperately deflect the blades away from her exposed face and other gaps in her protection, and all the while, more men were drawing swords, coming at her from all sides.
The sounds of heavy footsteps came from the camp below, and before Veronica knew what was happening, one of the men hacking at her screamed in pain and fell. The attackers all looked over in shock as Urartum, muscles so tense you could see every vein in his massive arms, struck another soldier, this one wearing unicorn glass armor, hitting him in the chest and sending him flying through the air.
Most of the others forgot about Veronica and focused on the new threat, but even in numbers, they were no match for Urartum. If they wore transfigured armor, they survived the first blow; if they didn’t, they were cleaved in two by his mighty Damascus blade. Though their swords were lighter and shorter, Urartum wielded his broadsword more nimbly and with such dexterity that none of them had a chance against him.
Sargon finished materializing but smoked out again as Urartum’s blade nimbly cut his way, only a heartbeat away from killing the sorcerer, who vanished again to an unknown location.
A whistle cut through the air, and a crossbow bolt hit Urartum in an arm, fired from a now-standing Erika, her nose covered in blood. His legs buckled beneath him from the shock, sending him down to his knees. He was able to surmount the injury and get back to his feet, but Erika loaded her crossbow faster, aiming at the massive man again. Veronica’s adrenaline surged, and she acted without thinking, getting her legs under her and launching herself in the way of the second bolt, which struck her in the abdomen mid-air, sending her flipping and landing in a crumpled heap several yards from her two friends. Erika started choking, and when Veronica was able to raise her head, Erika’s was on the ground next to hers, detached from her body. Cringing, the Queen reached out and closed her dead friend’s eyes while whispering the words, “I’m sorry.”
Urartum had already removed the bolt and had begun wrapping his arm in a strange menthol-soaked rag. “The little Queen needs to leave. I will stop as many as I can.”
“Thank you for saving my life, Urartum. If any fellow Chaktu arrives, direct them to the large tents in the camp. Sargon is storing his power there in clay canisters, engraved with a dagger.” He nodded as he worked on his wound, his fingers as nimble with a bandage as an old woman was with yarn. “Destroy them from a distance, they explode.”
Red smoke formed behind Urartum just as he made his final knot on his wound. Sargon emerged from the cloud, sword drawn, red ruby flashing as he swung. Urartum locked into battle with the sorcerer as several more Chaktu arrived, blood-soaked and sweaty, to aid their fellow tribesman against the weaker foes.
Veronica made for the trees, flinching as loud explosions rocked the forest, shaking the ground she stood on, coming from the camp. I hope the Chaktu destroy it all! Sargon’s Virtuuce will not last long with his supplies destroyed. Urartum was true to his word, standing his ground and holding off as many as possible. In farewell, he sent the screams of dying men after her, joined by the frustrated cursing of Sargon as he battled Urartum. The clashes of blades echoed through the forest, and Veronica ran as hard and as fast as she could.
She made it to the trees and began threading her way through them. She could not stop or look back. She kept running as fast as her legs would carry her. She reached the catapults and continued past the tree line and ducked into the concealed entrance to the ancient fortress. She felt there was no safety there, so she headed down the hallway. Here, the sconces had not been lit, and it was incredibly dark, and after her experience with Laexor, she was terrified of what else lurked in these haunted halls.
The ongoing battle overhead made the ancient network of tunnels shake and sound like thunder. It was so dark that she didn’t see a partially collapsed ceiling stone on the floor in her path. She smashed her foot into it and tumbled sideways, crashing through a splintered door and landing on the floor. Her heart was pounding in her chest, and her limbs wouldn’t stop shaking. She was still unarmed, having lost her spear after throwing it at the canisters of Virtuuce.
#
Veronica examined her surroundings, but it was so dark that she could barely make out the walls. But, oddly enough, a small green light, no larger than a spec, appeared further down the passageway. She silently moved towards the light—a light that emanated from a mostly intact door that was slightly ajar.
She had a feeling that whatever lay behind that door wasn’t anything created by the people who built this ancient fortress. The air was filled with energy and smelled of fresh flowers, and when she placed a hand on the door, it vibrated like a grinding flour mill.
She pushed on the door and opened it just far enough to see inside, which turned out to be something resembling a chapel, with an old decaying chair and table, a few rotten benches, some old scrolls, miniature statues of the gods and goddesses, and an oddly placed decorative suit of armor on a stand against the wall. Everything was illuminated mysteriously by a large green emerald, which was mounted to the top of a miniature Altar of Cybele. The emerald was large, roughly the size of a melon, and it rippled with green light. But though the magic that haunted the emerald was intriguing, something seemed so familiar about the suit of armor in the small room that it distracted her from the gemstone. The realization of what the armor was and why she knew it so well hit her like a stone dropped from a thousand feet. That is Edward’s armor!
Veronica pushed the door open and rushed inside, every one of her inhibitions about the spooky room erased. Edward’s armor? How could it be Edward’s? Her heart surged with love, and her mind filled with fond memories. She stood in front of the armor, forged a brilliant emerald color, the pigment of which had been worked into the armor meticulously by master armorers. It was suspiciously polished to a brilliant sheen, though it should have been dismal and dirty after being hidden away in this room for so long. It glistened majestically in the green lighting, and she was forced to stop and admire its beauty.
She traced the crown emblem on his chest with her forefinger, just like she always had while he had been alive. Well, on the chest of his armor. The symbol matched the emblem carved into her spearhead, but his was stamped directly into the metal. Her mind raced with déjà vu, and she could almost see his face smiling down at her if she looked hard enough. Her hands instinctively found his and intertwined her fingers with his empty gauntlets.
Suddenly and without warning, tears of grief sprung into her eyes and erupted down her cheeks. She pressed her face into his chest plate, consumed with heartbreak, and sobbed uncontrollably.
It felt good to be able to grieve without the entire country watching her. When Edward had died, she dared not shed a single tear in the presence of Caroline, the Royal Guard, and especially the high council. She was forced to suppress her loss, and in this empty room, she was able to feel freely. She dried her eyes and looked up, half expecting to see Edward looking down at her, but saw only cold, empty armor. Her heart was only partially whole. Her heart felt gray and bare, void of all things joyful. All motivation that she once had when she entered the room was removed instantly by a frigid blast of depression. The painful reminder of her devastating loss broke her will faster than any enemy could have.
Her legs failed her, and she found herself falling into the decrepit ancient chair. She allowed her body to sink into it, even though the thought of what might be living in it was abhorrent to her. She felt depressed and uneasy, her dearly departed still haunting her, even after all that she had been through since.
She remained there, in that deteriorating chair, for a time, how long Veronica did not know. Eventually, the mysterious green light lured her from her place of mourning towards the abnormally large emerald atop the miniature altar. She moved next to the emerald and admired it, like a sightseer admiring a painting. It had been cut to perfect dimensions and was shaped like an egg. The glow came from the very center of the emerald egg, and as she stared, she noticed that the pulsing of light resembled that of a heartbeat. It was both magnificent and terrifying at the same time. She didn’t know if she dared to touch the thing, as she wondered if she herself would lose her free will, just as when Amaryllis’ or Sargon’s power intermingled with the minds of mortals.
Another thunderous crash from the battle overhead spurred her to make a decision. She reached out a shaky, apprehensive hand and touched the emerald. The emerald flashed green, and mighty shock ran through her arm, down through her whole body, leaving her from the base of her feet into the floor. Torches that she had not noticed instantly ignited at every corner of the ancient chapel, illuminating shelves filled with decaying scrolls, and all that was dirty and decrepit immediately appeared clean and whole. The power that she had felt when Sargon had tried to possess her, the power she wielded in the Halls of Nurtia, the power that had been granted to her by a mysterious woman in her mother’s dream, extended from her soul at that moment and merged with her body. That feeling of power coursing over her being while in the Halls of Nurtia began once again. The intense power gave her goosebumps and raised the hair on her neck, though Veronica couldn’t tell if it was nerves or the power doing so.
“My sweet Veri, how I have missed you.”
Veronica whirled around, ready to fight until her last breath, and beheld the late King Edward, standing near the suit of armor, resolute and strong. Excited beyond her wildest dreams, she rushed to him, arms outstretched, and bounded up into his arms. But, instead of feeling his warm embrace, she passed through him and fell to the floor.
His low and seasoned voice was honey in her ears and brought new pain to her soul, along with a unique feeling of satisfaction. “I’m sorry, dear, but my body is no longer with me. We are unable to touch during this visit.”
She probably should have been embarrassed, acting so clumsy in front of the person she admired most in the entire world, but she was still in a state of awe. She picked herself up and faced the love of her life. “Edward, is it really you?” She examined him closely, looking for any hint of deception, but to her delight, he appeared in front of her now precisely as she had remembered him. “I have missed you terribly. You have no idea the ordeal I have been through over the last month.”
He smiled his I know something you don’t smile. “I have been observing you, Veri. I never truly left you.”
She could hardly believe her ears. She immediately felt exposed and uncomfortable about the many decisions that she had made since Edward had died. She swallowed before asking timidly, “You have?”
“I have. And I must tell you how marvelous you have been doing, my love, my Queen. Each day I watch from the sidelines, I decide that I could not possibly be more proud of you, but then a new day comes, and I get proved wrong every time. You have had no instruction on the matter of ruling a kingdom or directing a war, but you still valiantly defend our home against a lunatic, a lunatic aided by the god of War himself. You help others whenever you are able. You are the only person that stands between the gods and their petty desires. That, my love, is the stuff of legends. But, all of that aside, do you know what I am most proud of you for?”
Veronica’s heart soared with pride at his compliments. “I haven’t the faintest idea.”
“You found something in this world that truly made you happy, that quaint little cabin in the Forever Green Forest. That was a lesson that I did not learn until that conspiring father of yours introduced you to me. I had not known, in all my years, what it meant to be genuinely happy. You gave that to me, and it was the greatest honor I have ever received.”
Veronica just could not take it. She tried to stand on her toes and kiss the man, but it felt like she was trying to kiss an empty room.
He chuckled. “Oh darling, I told you that my body was elsewhere.”
“But what you are saying to me is like a balm for my soul! I desperately want to hold you and kiss you just like I used to do every day, when you were still...” She trailed off, unable to say it.
“When I was still alive?”
She nodded solemnly.
“I assure you that I loved it just as much or more than you did. You made my life joyful, and I am so grateful to you for all that you did for me, and all that you sacrificed for Anatolia.”
She smiled and wiped away a stray tear. “You’re grateful to me? You gave me love and a life like no other! You gave much more to me than I ever did to you.”
“In the way of titles and property, perhaps, but I could take none of that with me, dear. You gave me memories that will bring happiness and joy to me throughout all of eternity. That gift is priceless.”
Veronica did not know what else to say. “I’m so sorry, Edward, I’m simply speechless! I cannot wrap my head around the fact that I am talking to you right now. I thought I wouldn’t be able to hear your voice again for as long as I lived.”
He shook his head. “I didn’t either. If this were simply a war between mortals, it never would have happened, but this conflict extends beyond the temporal and into the realm of gods themselves. Its outcome means a great deal to all of the Mother’s creations.”
Veronica thought back to the pots that she had just destroyed in Sargon’s tents, and the emblem that matched that of Urartu, the god of war. There were also the differences between Sargon’s powers and that of Amaryllis. She looked over to the glowing green emerald mounted to the top of the pole in the center of this strangely preserved room. “It is true then? At the heart of Sargon’s power is Urartu?”
Edward smiled. “You have always been quick, my love. Yes, Urartu seems to be aiding our foe, and Rhea, the goddess of fortune, favors the Virtuusians. It is a quarrel that has cost many lives, and it needs to come to an end.”
“And which god sent you?”
“The Mother Goddess Cybele.” He gestured to the glowing green egg-shaped emerald. “Within that gem is the power of Cybele, the power of life and creation. It is the last remaining fragment of Cybele’s power in the mortal realm, and it is the reason that Sargon and Urartu have waged war against Anatolia. They want that power for themselves. It is the only means for them to gain access to Virtice.”
Finally, it all came together, the missing piece to the puzzle that she had been dwelling on for weeks now. Without access to the power of Cybele, Sargon would not be able to access Virtice and exact his revenge on the Virtuusians. His ancestors must have used the power to cross the barrier when the ancient fortress was in distress, escaping some ancient foe. Even Sargon’s army knew to attack not when the protective barrier fell, but when the ancient fortress was revealed. Once they knew where to start searching, they unleashed an all-out attack on the Castle Myra.
Another bang sounded overhead, and a rumble followed. It does not seem to be going well for us. “I would rather see it destroyed than for it to fall into his hands.”
Edward shrugged. “I suppose that is one option for you to take. But just because the power is destroyed does not mean that Sargon will be any less powerful. He may not be able to exact his revenge on Virtice, but he will still cause as much damage as he can to everything that crosses his path.”
“When I was pulled from my body to the Halls of Nurtia, I discovered that I had the Power of the Mother within me, and when I touched the emerald just now, I felt something... unlock, within me. What does it all mean? Was I a gift to my mother from the Mother Goddess herself?”
Edward sighed and nodded. “It’s true. You were gifted to your mother by Cybele herself.”
“Why? Why would she do that?”
He beamed at her. “So that you could find me. So that I, a King installed on the throne by the Mother Goddess after the untimely death of King Demetrius, could find you.”
“The Mother arranged our marriage?”
He laughed. “In a way, yes. When I first saw you, I could feel something different inside of you. I knew that you were the woman I needed as my Queen. I knew you were the only woman who could possibly restore The Balance between gods. Only you had a hope to save all of Cybele’s creations from extinction.” Edward was in front of her, and he reached down to try and lift her chin to look up at him, but his hand passed right through her. He laughed at his mistake. “I guess old habits die hard, don’t they, darling?” She looked up at him all the same and made a silent wish that this moment would never end.
“If I don’t choose to destroy it, then what? What should I do with it? How do I use it?”
Edward shrugged again and looked away, remembering something that annoyed him. “When Cybele arranged this visit, I asked that very question. She said that it was up to you to decide. She didn’t say anything more than that.”
“I have to decide? Did she at least tell you how to use the power?”
“Not even a hint.”
She sighed, frustrated. Apparently, our gods like mysteries. “I suppose I had better go figure it out then.” She turned from Edward and walked over to the emerald again. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Of course, Veri.”
“Do you know who poisoned you?”
“An agent of Sargon. I still don’t know who poisoned me, but I think I have figured out why they did it. I was trying to draw the traitor out of hiding so I could protect the location of the Emerald of Cybele. Once I eliminated the corruption, once I knew who I could trust, I would have revealed the Emerald to you. Otherwise, you would have been at risk with that dangerous knowledge. But they knew of my plot and ended me before I had a chance to guide you to your birthright.”
She closed her eyes tight, and her jaw trembled as she told him the painful truth. “It wasn’t just an agent of Sargon... it was Phillip. He had been trying to poison me but, somehow, ended up killing you instead.”
“Perhaps, perhaps not. It does no good to speculate about such things when the fate of humanity is on the line.”
“Edward! I was the one who appointed him to the Royal Guard. I’m responsible for your death! How can I not be fixated on that?”
His face darkened. “No. You’re mistaken, Veri. The only one responsible for my death is Sargon. All paths lead back to his corrupting influence. I will not allow you to blame yourself.”
“I killed Phillip... I impaled him on the end of my spear. I avenged your death.”
“Vengeance isn’t something that I would recommend.”
Veronica scowled, “You were not left alone. You were not the one who was forced to continue on without me. They murdered you. I will say if vengeance is recommended. And do you want to know something else?”
He nodded silently and waited for her to finish.
“I feel better now that he is dead. It felt good when I ended his miserable little life, and I wish I could do it again.”
Edward whistled. “I feel bad for whoever gets in your way, my love. You are terrifying when you are angry.”
She grinned and winked. “Just keep your shoes cleaned up so I don’t trip on them, and you’ll be fine.”
He laughed and held up his hands. “I made that mistake once! But, in my defense, they were tucked away against the wall.”
“Nope, your feet are massive, and I trip on them every time. Keep them off the floor.”
He shook his head and rubbed his neck. “Oh, how I have missed your sharp tongue!” He pressed his spirit body against hers, though she still felt nothing, and looked deep into her eyes. “I have complete faith in you, Veronica. If anyone can figure this nonsense out... it is you.”
In a flash of green, he was gone, and she found herself inside of an empty room. Edward had gone. His warmth vacated the room with him, and it felt as if a piece of herself, warmed by the presence of her one true love, iced over.
She allowed her heart to go cold, then turned back to the emerald and touched it again. No shock like the first time she had felt it, and the torches remained lit along the walls. She looked around, excited to see her Edward again, but to her dismay, he did not appear. She felt like she had wasted her one chance to talk to him again. There was so much more she had wanted to speak to him about, and all that was talked of was Sargon. She loathed the sorcerer for taking yet another precious thing from her.
She tried to lift the emerald from its mount, but it would not budge. She looked around for her spear to try and smash it open with but remembered that she had left it behind at Sargon’s camp. She could not get her exhausted brain to conjure up any other ideas. She plopped down into the chair, which uttered a cracking noise in response. Her eyes rested on Edward’s armor, still hanging on the armor stand. What if I need to put on his armor to use the magic? The armor glowed with the green light, unaffected by the torchlight that surrounded it.
It took a few minutes to get out of her unicorn glass armor and into Edward’s armor, which was ultimately the wrong size for her, but she managed to get it buckled up anyway. She finished with the last gauntlet, her fingers just barely reaching the finger holes, and stood there awkwardly, waiting for something to happen. Nothing did.
Frustrated, she stormed over to the emerald and brought an oversized fist down on the top of it. The ferocity triggered the same shock as before, which entered her, but the strange energy didn’t run into the floor like it had previously, but it nearly made her heart stop. The power felt as if it were filling her chest, flowing from her fist to the darkest corners of her body, and all she could do was cringe from the sensation of it all and wait for it to be over. It sucked her out of consciousness, deep into her own mind. In her mind’s eye, the green spark she had seen defend her against possession grew into a full-on thunderstorm in her skull, ravaging and transforming her with every tremendous strike of green energy.
The flow of energy also affected her physically, blasting her backward into the wall with a clash, and she fell to the ground, dazed. It would have been polite for the Mother to at least warn me about that. She stood up and immediately noticed the fit of the armor. What was once overly large and bulky hugged the curves of her body, and it felt light as a feather to her. Where her feet stood, she was amazed to see a few blades of grass spring up about her, followed by wildflowers, growing right out of the cracks in the stone floor. Did I grow those?
Unexpectedly, there was a flash of green light in the air in front of her, and instantaneously, her spear was before her, the head of which was buried deep into the stone floor. She smiled at her inanimate companion and ripped it free from the stone. She clenched her fist and smiled, testing her newly unlocked power on her weapon, adding the same terrifying poisonous rose barbs she had on her spear in the Halls of Nurtia. She smelled the barbs and found that the spear had the aroma of a freshly grown rose, so potent that it diffused into the air around the spear. It is time to put an end to this.