58. War Games

War Games

T he morning of the battle dawned cold and clear. We'd chosen to set it on the first day of the Calanid meteor shower, for the martial connotations, and because it also happened to fall on one of the feast days. I didn't feel any different, even knowing that there were occasional meteors streaking invisibly through the daytime sky, but Cass seemed invigorated, and kept looking up—though that might have been because he was eager to fly. The second we were released from our morning duties, Cass was in the sky, voicing a wild hawk-sound that sent shivers down my spine.

I left him to it, and portaled down to Taeskana to get ready for the big event.

Though we'd originally conceived of the battle as Cass versus an opposing force, it seemed like every glamor-mage in the Court wanted to be a part of things. Some of that was probably due to the chance to work with Pelleas, but I thought a lot of it was simply for the sheer fun of doing something this outrageous. We ended up with enough people that we'd put together an interesting conflict: two units of foot soldiers, one of archers, and one of light cavalry for the "enemy" side led by the Misted Duke, and a single unit of mixed infantry aligned with Cass defending a hilltop.

There weren't two identical hills available, of course, but we'd found two with slopes that matched well enough, and within sight of each other. The snowy plain would be churned mud at the end of this, but everyone seemed in high spirits. It seemed like all of Mercy had turned out for the spectacle: the risers that had been built over the course of the past weeks were packed, and there were plenty of people milling about behind the strung banners demarcating the safe zones. Peddlers hawked wares and the scent of hot food drifted about.

I checked in with the glamor squad as the armies got into place, climbing up several flights of stairs to their viewpoint. Cass was still circling overhead. Light flashed across the snowy expanse every time he turned.

"Ready for action, your highness?" I asked Pelleas .

He breathed a laugh, the cold air clouding for a moment. "It's been a long time since I've gotten to do something on this scale. I'm looking forward to it, though it unfortunately marks what should be the end of my stay under your gracious hospitality."

I raised my brow at him.

Pelleas gave a languorous shrug and lounged against the railing, his eyes skimming across the gathering army on the plain. "My father is ancient, and even an absence of this length is unlikely to trouble him, but I don't trust your goddess in my Court. As little as I like having her hungry eyes on me, I like not knowing what she's doing even less."

That made me frown. Pelleas wasn't exactly close-mouthed most of the time, but he didn't strike me as the sort of person to venture personal comments like that, especially ones laden with information someone like me might want to hear. I leaned on the railing next to him, looking up into his face. "She's not my goddess."

The wind flirted with his violet hair, but he didn't look down at me. "I suppose you made that vividly clear," he said in a level voice. "Nevertheless, she surely still views you as her property, wayward though you may be. Gods may let time slip by for centuries and millennia at a time, but woe betide those who catch their fixed attention." Pelleas sighed through his nose and flicked his ear in a dismissive gesture. "For your sake, I hope your soulmate is even half the warrior the songs paint him to be."

My frown deepened. "For my sake?"

One corner of his mouth tugged up. He glanced sidelong at me, wearing a knowing expression. "I like you, your majesty, and I like Yllana. I've greatly enjoyed the opportunity to spend time with someone who shares my passions. I'd rather not see you or your princess lost to this world. Your soulmate…" Pelleas shrugged again. "I have little in common with him, but you have bite, and you know how to wield beauty. Though it does seem like you're avoiding your princesses and your dukes, both. Am I truly such good company?"

"Fishing for compliments, your highness?" I asked, smirking up at him.

He flashed me a smile. "Enjoying my freedom to do so while it lasts." A bugle sounded, high and clear. "That's our mark," Pelleas said. "If you'll be so kind as to vacate the overlook, your majesty, we have some spells to cast."

I put my hand over my heart and gave him the proper bow. "Have fun."

It took a bit to get into place, but, luckily, it took a bit to get the spells up, too. Armies, battlements, traps… even the placement of environmental hazards, all done by a series of glamor-mages on tall platforms that looked a bit like air traffic control towers. By the time I got to my own viewpoint, joining Tarra, Yllana, Ace, and Talien, there were two sets of everything, one on either side of the central seating .

It was a bit eerie, actually; my land-sense told me who was real, but my eyes couldn't tell the difference. To the east waited Cass and his forces, facing glamored foes. To the west, Tech led his army, facing up the hill at a glamored encampment with a glamor-copy of Cass circling overhead. The contrast left me feeling off-kilter, like the world was slanting.

I was supposed to ring the gong to start the match, but Tarra looked so eager that I passed her the mallet with a smile. "It was your idea. You do the honors, princess," I told her.

She practically squealed with glee, and slammed the mallet into the gong with the exuberance of a middle schooler going at a pinata.

All along the central set of seats, and across the battlefield in the framing risers, answering gongs rang, until the air was full of the battle-song. The armies – the real one and the copy – surged into motion at the same time, moving into a pincer formation, closing ground with the defending force. Arrows sang up into the sky, arching up in a deadly black rainbow before whistling down to strike the opposing army.

The real enemy still circled high overhead. I knew battle-trained healers fought with wooden staves to extend their reach; Vaduin had said that, making fun of the dukes for presenting Cass with swords. Cass was empty-handed, though. He didn't need reach. He was Mercy—all of it. If he'd wanted to, he could have tapped into the power of the Court and slaughtered everyone in it.

A battle that lasted ten seconds wasn't any fun, so we'd handicapped our King. The rules of the game were simple: One hit kill. If Cass hit any of the glamor-copies anywhere that wasn't protected with iron, the glamor-copy went down and the green wristbands on the corresponding soldier turned red to let them know to exit the field. Anything else, though? Injury only, transferred from the glamor-copy to the soldier in question via a sharp zap, courtesy of a network of healers linked with Pelleas.

Cass dropped from the sky, and the battle truly began.

He hit the front lines like a battering ram. Wings that cut through metal like paper turned him into a blade going fifty miles an hour. He cut through the soldiers like a butcher's knife through meat, tearing a hole in the lines before tucking into a tumbling roll. Hitting the ground at speed did nothing to Cass. He was on his feet in a second, and flung himself back for the sky, clawing for altitude.

Arrows lanced for him. Cass flipped into a barrel roll, deflecting arrows with his wings. One struck him—I felt it like someone elbowing me in the side. He just yanked it out like it was nothing, the pain vanishing in an instant, and whooped with feral delight.

The ground turned into spears.

People screamed, their voices mirrored on the two fields of battle. The glamor-artists had been prepared for Court attacks, and an impassable region appeared on the army side where Cass had impaled hundreds of glamor-copies of people on spires of stone.

Holy shit. This wasn't a battle. It was a slaughter .

I watched, agog, as Cass played havoc with the opposing force. He wasn't immune to attack; arrows hit him, and he nearly got overwhelmed on the ground when the infantry forces got a heavy rope net over one wing. Kettekh had clearly thought about how to counter his opponent, but Cass had been scheming, too.

Spiked earth was the least of the weapons he had up his sleeve. A command healer could do more than simply tell the body to heal naturally. He could take control of it; make pieces grow or die or seize. Painted onto the Court – onto a landscape as much his body as the one with a beating heart – that kind of control was brutally lethal.

Brambles twisting up out of the snowy earth with such force that they tore through glamored bodies and buried people under thorns. The metabolisms of those plants amplified to such heights that they burst into flames. Stone growing and crumbling; massive sinkholes opening up and swallowing people whole.

Cass couldn't be everywhere at once, but he was a devastating force. Less than a third of the opposing force made it to the hilltop, and with Cass to their backs and a well-entrenched defending force, they had no chance. To his credit, Tech put up a hell of a fight: not only did he manage to keep his forces split up enough that Cass could only engage small sections at a time, but he managed to lay claim to a whole third of the hilltop before Cass' army got them surrounded.

People fucking loved it. The screams and chants would have been at home in any football stadium, people losing their minds with glee at the slaughter. It was the best kind of bloodsport, as gruesome as a horror movie and without any casualties of war.

The princesses looked shaken, and I was sure it had made an impression on the dukes, too. Monarchs could use the power of their Courts, and this close to a palace, that power was pretty close to absolute, but most Kings weren't also practiced mages and warriors. Cass knew how to fight, both physically and magically, and he knew how to face large forces.

He was a fucking Fury . This is what they'd done, albeit without the Court-magic. This was what he'd been made for.

Cass whooped when Tech handed over his sword, winging higher. The sunlight flashed off his blood-spattered wings. All the glamor vanished in an instant, but the blood remained. His blood, spilled by glamored arrows and glamored swords.

He did a loop midair and I started laughing, almost in disbelief. Holy fuck . My soulmate could kick some serious ass.

Give me space, dove , he sent, his mental voice full of exuberance. I backed everyone up, pointing out Cass as he spiraled higher and higher. After a moment of consideration, everyone but Ace decided that they preferred to be elsewhere. Tarra went to comfort Tech, Yllana went to congratulate Pelleas, and Talien simply sauntered away, as satisfied as a well-fed lion.

Cass folded his wings and dropped.

Adrenaline spiked, the sheer glory of flight thrilling through me even though I stood with both feet on the ground. Cass hurtled through the sky like a peregrine falcon stooping for prey, controlling his dive with tiny shifts of his wings and weight. He pulled up at the last second, flinging his wings out, the wrench of the air against them sending a sweet ache singing through my back.

He hit the wooden platform so hard it cracked, splinters flying up. For a second, Cass looked abashed, but then he grinned at me and started laughing, down on one knee in a big shattered dent with his sweat-dark hair falling out of his braid.

I walked over, grinning like an idiot. "Bravo, Fury," I said, draping my arms over his shoulders. Pure glee swept through me, making my heart race and skin go hot. "That was a hell of a show. Have fun?"

"Gods, so much," he said, his eyes dancing. There was more gold in them, now, the use of the Court's power leaving its mark on him. "I haven't gotten to cut loose like that in… ever?"

I laughed and rested my forehead against his. "You know people are going to write songs about this, right? Fucking tavern bangers, probably."

Cass leaned his face up and kissed me sweetly. His hand cupped my face. "Let them," he said, smiling up at me. "I can be their god-King if it helps keep them safe. So long as you keep looking at me like that."

"Like what?" I asked, unable to stop smiling.

He made a low sound of pleasure, then swept me into his arms and got to his feet. "Like I'm still a man."

I put my arms around his neck, loving the feel of his strength, and of the steady beat of his heart. "You'll always be a man to me."

"Promises, promises," Cass said, his ears tilted forward and eyes warm. "Ready to escape the crowds?"

I glanced back at Ace, who was watching all of this with a bemused expression. "Will you be alright on your own, your grace?"

He put a hand over his heart and bowed. "Surely."

"Alright, then." I looked back up at Cass. "Let's get the hell out of here."

With a warm laugh, Cass threw us into the sky, and turned towards home.