Chapter Twenty-Five The Lady That Shall Be Queen Hereafter

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

The Lady That Shall Be Queen Hereafter

Seeing his beloved in danger, the Emperor tore the world with a thought. Longing for Revenge flashed in his hand like lightning, and the ravine spilled red as blood into the sky. Silver scars slashed into the crimson sky as the beast died screaming. As Lia sheltered beneath his dark cloak, the Emperor wheeled on the crowd. The wild creature's blood splashed across his face in a vivid warning. His subjects cowered in terror of the divine.

If his sword was lightning, his voice was thunder. "On your knees for your queen!"

Time of Iron , ANONYMOUS

T he manticore was bigger than the leucrota or the unicorn, big as a bear. Its fur was a deep dark red. The colour that burned in the heart of the ravine. The colour of blood.

The manticore didn't lumber like a bear. The beast moved with soft scratching noises in the dust, on huge catlike paws with claws protruding like a birds' talons. Heavy chains as large as the manticore's forelegs were attached to its hindlegs.

"Those chains will break." Rahela's voice was heavy with prophecy, then lightened into airy falseness. "But not to worry! The Emperor is coming to save her. He has the sword. I made sure."

Emer suspected her lady's lies were beginning to wear thin even to herself.

Lia was a blue dot next to the massive crimson creature. A flower that could be crushed under a claw. It was Emer's duty to stay by her mistress, hands folded, and watch Lia die.

The Cobra's hands tightened on the balcony rail. "Nothing is sure."

The Last Hope pulled him back into his chair. The Cobra was a tall man, but against berserker strength men were toys. He said something in the Cobra's ear.

Emer's ears were keen from years of eavesdropping. It sounded like a name.

If ‘Eric' was a name.

In the servants' hall they said when Lord Marius gave evidence against Emer's lady his voice was merciless. All who heard knew Rahela was doomed. Now Emer heard the voice of judgement for herself.

"The champion is declared. Lady Lia has no family to intervene. There's nothing you can do."

The Cobra's lip curled. "Who died and made you the boss of me?"

Lord Marius seemed intrigued. "I wasn't aware that was an option. How many people have to die?"

Everybody in the box looked horror-struck.

The Cobra punched the most deadly warrior of his generation hard in the shoulder. "Don't say serial killer things! We already have one of those."

He gestured at Key, who grinned.

The Last Hope gave Key a chilling glare. It was possible he couldn't give any other kind of glare. "This is the servant you think can beat me? What's your name again?"

Key's gaze, glinting oddly, met Lord Marius's. The possibility of violence twisted in the air between them, a reflection of dancing scarlet flame in ice. Emer hadn't thought there was room in her heart for more fear. Surely Key was not deranged enough to fight the heir of the manor and the mountains.

"My name is Key."

General Nemeth snapped, "Say ‘at your service, my lord'."

Key's lip curled. "I'm at nobody's service but hers."

He nodded towards Rahela. Emer's lady was still watching the arena.

Someone had given Lia a sword. The sword was a needle under the manticore's nose, hardly bigger than one of the monster's teeth. Lia wielded her blade with the magic of the gauntlet and desperate courage, and scored a hit across its flank. Black blood welled against the manticore's bright red fur. The manticore's scream, half trumpet and half shriek, filled the amphitheatre. Terrified hope made it difficult for Emer to breathe. Placed right, a thorn could defeat even the greatest beast.

The manticore wheeled. Its tail arced, a scorpion's tail but a hundred times bigger, half the size of the animal and three times Lia's size. The tail had five segments resembling five black shells linked by tenuous muscle. At the tip was the stinger, curved like a massive thorn dipped in ink. The monster's tail swept directly for Lia, stinger aimed with deadly precision. She had to pull away fast. Her blade dropped in the dust. The manticore stepped on the sword so Lia couldn't pick it up, almost tauntingly, as if the animal could think. When it reared and roared, the massive chains snapped in half.

"Lost gods," murmured General Nemeth. "They made those chains in haste. The steel wasn't properly tempered."

Or the chains were sabotaged on purpose. Either way, the result was the same.

The manticore was loose, restraints turned to steel bracelets, bearing down on the girl who'd wounded it. Dust rose around Lia's gleaming fair head in a hazy halo. She clenched both hands, one silver and one flesh.

Rahela lifted her eyes to the royal box, draped in shimmering flags. Emer followed Rahela's gaze desperately. If Rahela was right about the chains breaking, she should be right about the king coming. He should be the hero of the story sweeping in to save the damsel.

The box was empty. The hero was nowhere to be found.

The manticore swiped at Lia, claws so sharp they made a soft singing noise as his paw swung through the air. Lia escaped the blow by throwing herself on the ground, rolling until the white of her skirt was lost under a layer of filth. The pearl of the world, hurled down in the dust.

In a strangely calm voice, Rahela addressed Lord Marius. "You said Lia has no family to intervene. But she does."

Wearing her disaster-defying expression, she turned to Key and placed her hands on his belt. Efficiently, she removed the regulation guard's sword from its scabbard. He watched her, eyes hooded.

"Don't," Key breathed.

She stepped back. "Trust me. I can fix this."

Key moved fast as a monster in a firelit tale of terror, but the movement ended not in violence but gentleness. His fingertips grasped the edge of her sleeve. "Boss. Let me."

Rahela's eyes travelled over his face. "I know how you feel, but you're still hurt."

"I swear I'm not!"

Her voice echoed as though she were a ghoul calling from the ravine. "You took the oath. I command you to stay."

Clutching Key's sword, Emer's lady vaulted over the side of the golden box. Key clenched his fist, a trick of light making a line of crimson flare along his arm to disappear into his glove. He stood straining as if held by ropes.

Rahela's fall to the seats below was broken by several confused members of the audience. They stayed bewildered long enough to obey her shouted orders, new hands reaching up as she went forward. The Beauty Dipped In Blood floated her way to the arena as though the crowd was a sea.

At the edge of the arena, Rahela scrambled over the wall, hit the earth rolling, and raced between the heroine and the monster. Lia went still as stone. When Rahela charged at the manticore, sword held in both hands, Emer saw her bare fingers slip on the hilt. The enchanted gauntlet held steady and turned her aim true.

At the last moment the manticore swerved. Rahela's blade left a glancing blow against its breast.

Emer knew her place. A maid must stay by her mistress's side, ready to assist at all times.

Emer lunged and seized the general's battleaxe.

General Nemeth's roar followed as she escaped the box and hurtled down the steps. "Catch that maid! My axe is an heirloom."

Guards ran to intercept Emer at the foot of the steps.

A voice rang at her back. "I'll give you all the gold I have on me if you let her keep that axe for a day."

The guards' rush halted. Emer glanced over her shoulder, surprised to see the Cobra directly behind her.

"The general had an abrupt change of heart. Let her through."

It was strange. Palace gossip about Lia and the Cobra couldn't be more different, their appearances could not be more different, but their eyes sometimes held a similar soft look. As if wishing to be gentle with something badly wounded.

Emer had never known what to do with gentleness.

The Golden Cobra might be careless, rakish and overdressed, but she'd seen him try his best for Lia all day.

It was difficult to imagine trusting an aristocrat, but perhaps she should tell him of Lord Marius's mission to discover his secrets.

Emer hesitated. "Who's Eric?"

The Cobra's face shut firmly as the lid on a treasure chest, not meant for servants' eyes. "Someone I killed."

The manticore trumpeted a scream. Emer turned away from the Cobra and fought her way through the crowd. In the arena, the monster lunged past Rahela's defences, triple rows of needle teeth bared to bite.

Silk got in the manticore's eyes. Lia lashed out with her scarf as if it were a whip.

As the manticore's wickedly curved tail came towards them in an inexorable sweep, Rahela darted Lia's way and seized her stepsister's hand. "Follow my lead!"

Rahela jumped. Lia jumped with her. The manticore's tail swept and they jumped again, sisters skipping rope in a nightmare. The monster gave a frustrated cry and retreated only to charge at them head on, gnashing its rows of teeth.

Rahela caught Lia's eye and the other end of Lia's scarf, knotting the material around her fist. Lia gulped and nodded. They let the manticore come, reeking breath blasting their hair back in a mingled black and gold flag, and raised the scarf. Held taut between their hands, the monster was temporarily blindfolded.

The stepsisters' descending swords glanced uselessly off scale-tough skin. The manticore snapped its teeth. Seeing white and blue silk in shreds between its needle-sharp teeth, fear went through Emer clean and cold as a blade. She fought through a throng that was thickest near the rails.

When Emer waved her axe, the crowd cleared quickly. She opened the gates with shaking hands and saw her two ladies, hand in hand in the swirling bloodied dust. Rahela had pulled Lia back, and the manticore had only bit the scarf.

"Manticores have a weak spot," she heard Rahela bellow. "Strike through the neck or the stomach!"

"If you remembered which," Lia observed primly, "that would be helpful."

Emer charged past the ladies to bring her axe furiously down on the manticore's neck. The manticore screamed, almost unharmed, teeth snapping closed on Emer's apron. She tore herself free and staggered back with the apron in rags, clutching her axe.

"Not the neck," she reported.

"Emer," Lia breathed.

Rahela sounded impressed. "Did you steal the general's axe?"

Emer shrugged, keeping her eye on the monster. The axe felt as though it belonged in her hand, the weight reassuring, promising the clean end to a fight. As if this was the weapon she was meant to have. She stood braced to meet the manticore's next charge.

Except the manticore didn't charge. It shrieked as three knives flew through the air like bright steel birds, embedding themselves in its blazing red hide. Key was leaning over the rails.

"He didn't actually go down into the arena, my lady," Emer pointed out.

Rahela sighed. "There's always a loophole."

They used the creature's distraction to close in, stabbing anywhere they could reach. Emer circled the beast, hacking at its limbs and jumping when the tail swept her way. The manticore swerved and thrashed, biting on air as if it couldn't decide which foe to slay. The knives landed like stinging flies, but the monster's hide was too tough to pierce and even Key's knives weren't limitless. He was running out. The manticore hadn't even slowed down.

The beast lunged for Rahela, leaving its side exposed.

Lia struck, her blade barely scoring against the scales, then stumbled. The manticore's paw came down hard.

Rahela flung herself bodily at Lia, so they rolled away, curled around each other, across the ground. "Now isn't the time for adorable clumsiness!"

Lia gasped, "Stop making jokes. I never know where things actually are. I'm always falling. I can't fight, I can't dance. I can't see !"

Rahela sounded astonished as though it had never occurred to her Lia might have a simple, human reason to fall. " That's why you're always tripping into manly arms? Would wearing spectacles interfere with you being the fairest of them all?"

They were filthy and clinging to each other, like children whose game in the dirt had got out of hand, like the sisters they had never been. Rahela and Lia sat up, casting about for their weapons, as the monster bore down upon them.

The noise that rattled from Emer's chest sounded not like a human cry but a beast issuing a challenge. It turned the manticore's head. Emer planted her feet, and swung her axe in readiness.

"Emer," Rahela called. "Stop. I command—"

"My lady." Emer shouted her down. "I never took your oath. And I don't have to obey you!"

When Emer dodged the manticore's tail, its claws swiped, raked her open, and brought her down. She rolled, feeling dust gather in the stinging shallow slices in her stomach and the blast of hot breath on her neck. The monster was about to tear her throat out.

Then the world changed.

A woman screamed, and the sun was blotted out as a sudden storm rolled in. The sky filled with crimson. Clouds curled and rose like angry smoke. Silver lightning flashed through the churning cloud like knives. Somehow the ravine was spilling into the sky, changing colour as if the heavens were a pool beneath a waterfall of blood. The whole kingdom seemed flipped upside down, become a mirror to the abyss.

Gasps tore from a thousand throats. Even the great monster flattened itself upon the ground, whining like a kicked stray. From above, thunder rolled like the hollow laughter of lost gods. From below, echoing in the dread ravine, came the loudest sound of all.

In a dull susurrating chorus, the dead called: "Master. Master. MASTER! "

"‘ The ravine calls its master up above …'" Emer quoted the Oracle's prophecy in a whisper.

Every soul under the red sky cowered, save the most cunning of them all, ready to take advantage of every situation. Only Emer, who had once been set to spy on her and now could not shake the habit of watching, saw her pale skirt moving in the red-tinged dark. Lia seized the distraction and retrieved her weapon. She drove her sword deep into the monster's stomach, gutting the manticore with one stroke. As silver scars slashed the crimson sky, the beast died screaming.

Its trumpeting death cry chased away the clouds. The monster's tail stung the earth, and the sinewy neck strained. The beast fell heavily to one side, revealing to the crowd the bloodstained face of the fairest of them all.

Into the arena strode King Octavian in the crowned mask, and the crowd hushed with new awe. He looked every inch the young hero, scarlet lights limning his head to form a second crown. He looked the part of the foretold Emperor, who would command sky and abyss. In the stories, the First Duke said they only had to wait. He is coming .

No matter how long you waited for a god, perhaps you were never prepared for their arrival.

The royal sword was bare in Octavian's hand, blade sheened with the red reflection of magic, as he walked eagerly towards Rahela and Lia. Emer couldn't stand in his way.

"As you desired, my lady, Longing for Revenge was broken and reforged."

His gaze went to Rahela like a child searching for a familiar hand to hold. After a startled instant Emer realized he was scared. It must be terrifying to find yourself in the centre of a legend.

Rahela answered his silent plea. She intoned, " His sword is ruin. His eyes are fire . The future Emperor called a storm to protect his true love!"

The whole crowd hushed below the strange sky, mice under the owl's wing, terrified beneath the shadow of prophecy coming true. Before them stood she of snow and flame. The harbinger of the future.

In that moment her lady's word was holy, higher than law. The king and the kingdom were in her palm. Lia and Emer exchanged a single look.

Then Rahela grasped Lia's hand. She raised it high, as though Lia held an invisible trophy.

"People of Eyam!" called out the true prophet. "May I present the winner of the tournament, the Pearl of the World, your Queen! As I foretold. Not to brag."

A roar of applause followed and climbed, louder in Emer's ears than her hammering heart. Blood and circuses , the Cobra had said. They'd given the people a good show.

The wild clapping quieted only when the woman of snow and flame took the last steps towards Octavian, and pressed the future queen's hand into the future Emperor's. As Octavian hesitated, clearly stunned, Rahela reached out and closed his fingers over Lia's.

"My Emperor-to-be," declared Lady Rahela. "Your beautiful bride."

The applause surged back, stronger than before. Lia's gaze fastened on the ground, playing the demure lady rather than a victorious warrior. She would marry and ascend to the highest place in the land. Far away from Emer, where she was always meant to be.

The king's sword shone, the lady blushed, and the crowd applauded. This scene looked like the last illustration of a book, the page showing the happy ending.

Emer had known her lady since childhood, knew every strand of midnight hair and every dark thought. Rahela might hatch plots and fight battles. Emer could even believe Rahela might see the future. She couldn't believe this. She might be deceived in her lady's heart, but not her lady's hate. Every day of their lives people had compared Rahela and Lia, measuring their characters by their faces. Truth was beauty, and beauty truth, and Lia's virtue would be rewarded. Which left Rahela with the wages of sin, and growing resentment that proved all judgements against her correct. The end was predetermined from the beginning. The world had taught Rahela to fight Lia, to never give an inch of ground. But Rahela had just handed Lia a crown.

Emer stared at Rahela's face, more familiar than her own, and thought: Who are you?