Chapter 20

The wind blows its warm breath on my face.

My face tightens slightly at the bright, shuddering light that pierces through my closed eyelids. I heave them open, and the intensity dissipates to the far corners of my vision. The colours of the world return. My senses awaken. My nose wrinkles at the potent stench that brutally shocks me to full consciousness. I shift my hand. It explores the hard surface beneath a layer of dark brown.

A chest. Vince's chest.

I glance down, his arm is slung over my shoulder. I rise carefully, slowly sliding up. His arm sinks off me.

"You two looked cosy."

I look to my right. Solaris rubs his forehead and pinches until the centre ripples with fleshy folds. Then he runs his fingers through his tousled Achilles mane.

Unsure of how to respond to that, I say nothing at all.

"You sound jealous, Herem Solaris."

My head turns and I look down at Vince's closed eyes, his face inexplicably still.

"Concerned," he corrects harshly. Then adds, "For her safety, the Hera should be wary of those she draws close."

As if I don't already know that?

Without looking, he says, "With me, she's the safest she can be, Solaris." His tenor inwrought with austerity.

Solaris lets out a quick burst of laughter, resounding with scepticism. "Ironic coming from the Herem of the most violent Regnum, Empire, in all of Urium. You carry an air violence wherever you tread, forever clung to your path."

The remark earns him a glower, revealing his eyes, shadows creeping beneath.

"Violent when I must, or when someone tempts me to be," he says as a matter of fact.

Solaris's spine snaps straight and his gaze drills holes into him. "Perhaps I should increase my efforts."

I shoot both hands up placatingly. "Easy there. Where did all this hostility come from?" I ask, conjuring a babying tone. "Did the Herems not get enough sleep?"

Vince scoffs and draws his arm back over his eyes.

"Arghh." A familiar, maddened groan. "We have been travelling all night. Surely the horses need tending by now," Brennon blathers. "Any excuse to escape this rattrap of a carousine."

"Rattrap?" Dario repeats disagreeably. "It feels like one of the castle's royal bedchambers compared to the Orombuc's sleeping huts. I would gladly take this option any day."

"Of course you would say that. Even nobility cannot conceal your rodent-like nature, tracker boy."

Dario thrusts himself forward like he's about to attack, teetering on the edge of the seat. Brennon sits opposite him, staring back at Dario smugly. His bent leg settled on the seat, a black leather boot on the brink with his wrist resting on his knee.

"Say that again, and you will find that I possess far more lethal skills."

Brennon's smirk endures. He drops his leg down to the ground, dipping forward to rest his elbows on his thighs.

"Oh, is that—"

"Cut it out," Treyton intervenes for the first time. He swipes the locks of his medium-length tresses from his face. Strawberry accents in his hair. "You both are squabbling and squawking like a pack of ringerds. Shut it or I will make you."

Brennon's head whisks to the side. "Make me then."

 I hope we take a recess soon, for all of our sakes.

Abruptly, Vince bolts forward, bracing against sudden alarm.

The mere movement inspires immediate silence.

A far-off look enters his eyes, then it darts erratically from place to place, like he's listening to something distressing. The atmosphere implodes with the noise of whinnying horses, the clamour of wild and harried neighs resonates to and fro the carousine.

The carousine comes to an abrupt halt. I nearly fall out of my seat, but Vince snaps his arm out in front of me. A rustling sound swells and grows louder. A tree falling—a huge one—the heavy impact spreads and ripples through the surface, triggering a vicious temblor. The ground shakes beneath us, radiating seismic turmoil that causes the carousine to tremble at the great rumble that bellows from the earth.

It's not an earthquake.

I can feel it now. The far-flung reverberations of energy currents. Strong energy currents.

Magic. Extremely powerful and very dark.

"The Vulkra!"

An energised force explodes against the flank of the carousine, sending us all flying. The vehicle careens wildly, plunging down a precipitous slope. We are trapped in a chaotic maelstrom, a whirlwind of limbs and bodies, each impact against the unforgiving surfaces sending jolts of agony through my bones. My world becomes a blur of pain and disorientation, until a sudden, brutal blow to my head extinguishes all consciousness, plunging me into a void of blackness.

***

Shuffling, shambling, and the sounds of dim voices.

My fingers twitch. I try to move into a plank position. Full consciousness registers the aches all over my battered body, pain stunting even the simplest movements. I haul myself up onto my knees. The cord of my flower garland snapped. I snatch it off.

I'm kneeled on the roof, the carousine completely upturned. And around me are piles of displaced cushions, headrests, and throw pillows scattered in chaos along with the bodies of the Herems. Solaris sits a few steps from me, peeling off his jacket with a wince and casting it aside.

Warm liquid travels down my temple. My eyes are fastened on the top part of his baggy blouse's sleeve that is stained with a growing splotch of blood. I inhale a ready breath, hoisting myself up to full height, hobbling to him.

On my way. I pause. A face protrudes from beneath a mound of toppled cushions. Markiveus. He is completely knocked out, too convincingly, I might add.

Is he dead?

I shove away a few of them, taking this opportunity to kick my boot into his side—he stirs awake and frees a pained groan.

How unfortunate.

I move on until I stand beside Solaris; I flick my coat back, lowering myself until I sit on my haunches. I hold his bicep, angling it to inspect the haemorrhaging wound. It's only a graze, but the wound continues to weep tears of blood.

"I am well," he mumbles.

Wordlessly, I reach down, unsheathing one blade from my thigh holster. I pick up the long end of my chemise, cutting off a piece.

"You have... daggers?" he says dazedly, eyes fluttering like he's fighting to stay awake. His head sways oddly, like it's too heavy for him.

I return the dagger. I hold the strap of the material to his arm, securing it around his wound to apply constant pressure, but not too tight to hamper circulation. His cheeks tauten for a split-second before easing. He is fortunate that there are no splinters inside or it would have been a lot more painful.

"There, that should stop the bleeding for now, until we can get you proper medical assistance."

Solaris bobs an exaggerated nod. "Thank... you."

I look at him closely. My index finger touches the tip of his chin to steer his face to me.

"Are you sure you are alright, Solaris?"

He brushes off my concern with a bumbling wave. "Yes... head hurts, feeling lightheaded is all."

I nod. Pushing down on my thighs, I rise. My eyes scour over the irreparable damage inflicted on the carousine and all of us injured consequently. Which I suppose was the intent and more. My eyes search to find even a glimpse of molten brown hair, but I don't see it. I do not see him.

Vince isn't here.

Where are our guards?

Primus Kelan?

I instantly manoeuvre to one of the closest exits, which are the window holes. I halt once I see Dario laying on his back, clutching his side. His face is contorted into a pained grimace.

"Dario?"

He grumbles something, and his arm raises to flash me two-fingers up.

I nod and drop to my knees. My torso dives forward and I crawl out the carousine, using my elbows, clambering up to stand tall. The carousine stands wilted on its head at the foot of the slope that probably leads back up to the main road. I glance behind me at the stretch of silent woods. The oak-brown knotted arms of the trees rise ever upwards, as far as my head can lift.

"Aurora—wait."

I look down and see Solaris's head peeking out from the window hole. I offer my aid and with his good arm; he heaves it up and slaps his hand in mine. I help him up. He swivels around whilst cradling his wounded arm to his chest.

I advance only a few heartbeats to see the front of the carousine. Ahead of it, there's a mass heap of lithe forms. The stallions that drew the carousine are all collapsed on top of each other with their necks bent at unnatural angles. I suck in a sharp breath before I spin around, squeezing my eyes shut for a moment.

"You... alright?"

Bile rising in my throat. I force it down.

Together, we round the rear of the carousine and start the short trek up the slope.

"What in the stars just happened?" Each step heavy, shifting my weight from side to side.

"We were... attacked," Solaris says. Still disorientated.

"Truly? I hadn't noticed," I say wryly. "I merely presumed that our assailants wanted to redecorate the interior of our carousine with our blood."

I crest the brink of the slope first. I stop dead in my tracks.

This part of the main road where our carousine was blasted off is littered with corpses. Bodies all encumbered in the same intricate uniform. Dark ensemble embroidered with runes made with a material I wasn't aware existed. With matching headgears and face masks that only spare their unblinking eyes. Amidst the bodies are our guards that are slowly weaving through the carnage with their swords still drawn. Black blood trailing down the edge of their blades and dripping onto the ground. Their armour is blemished with splattered blood, enmeshed droplets of black.

To my far left I see Vince exclaiming his anger towards a group of three guards. His words are imperceptible, but the emotion is apparent. Behind them, there are only a few horses left. The rest were probably spooked during the attack and fled. Ahead of them is an enormous tree that had been cut, and now it blocks the path beyond. Which was obviously the loud thud we heard and felt initially before the attack.

My gaze glides back in front of me. Something in my periphery beckons my attention. I rotate to my right, sauntering toward a corpse sprawled on the ground. I move to stand just beside its limp hand. The tattoo seared into its unnatural flesh with its ominous presence, an intricate design that seems to pulse with a malevolent energy. Centered on the skin, a sinister outline meticulously inked, its tendrils spreading outward in twisted, jagged lines. It appears almost alive, its dark contours seemingly flickering. The black ink is so deep it seems to absorb the surrounding light, creating an unsettling contrast against the skin. Each section is filled with arcane symbols and cryptic runes, their meanings lost to time but their power unmistakable. The tattoo itself merely exudes a palpable sense of dread.

My body stiffens at the sudden strong presence that looms at my rearguard. A tangible presence that bespeaks strength with no show executed or even words uttered.

"Are you unharmed?"

I must have hit my head harder than I thought. Because I could have sworn that I heard a tincture of worry in his tenor. It must be my mild concussion. I revolve cautiously. A spray of black blood is speckled across his defined cheek. His gaze examines my face. A pinprick of emotion flares in his gaze. As quickly as his eyes go wide, they retract back to normal size. 

"You are bleeding." His hand lifts from his side, but he jerks it back to its place as if it had moved on its own whim.

A crack in his resolve. 

I flare a brow. "Oh... so now you care about my wellbeing?"

A shroud of solemnity falls back on his face. One that is barred with an impenetrable look that hides anything and everything from me. 

"It is my duty to concern myself with the wellbeing of all the lives that the High King entrusts me with."

My gaze diverts from him to a guard who jabs his elbow back, then he runs his sword through one of the assailant's chests. His shoulders jolt up, gurgling sounds are heard before he falls back down. Dead. Primus Kelan looks behind him. His gaze returns to me nonchalantly, as if it was nothing. My eyes flutter wildly as if trying to ward off the image of myself from my mind. That be me with a wet tool in my hand and the unfortunate cod whom my master condemned to my reach. I placate myself; I pretend that all I do doesn't affect me, but I wouldn't be human if it didn't. I turn around to focus on the one assailant that I was inspecting, lowering to a squat.

"My master always said to destroy an enemy is to make him a friend. To make him a friend is to know him. My father made me study the annals of Urium, including those of its enemies. The Ulris. I know of their wicked rituals and their... markings." I gesture to the one on the palm of his hand. "The Vulkra is just a branch of the malignant autonomy of the Ulris. But I never knew of them to inflict ruination so... blatantly. They usually operate their dark magic from the shadows, far from sight."

For a brief moment, Primus Kelan says nothing. I pretend to assess the markings further, to distract myself. For I know that if I dare look up into those eyes that are darker than the night. I'll be forever lost in them.

I spurt to full height. Evading his gaze, I say, "You should send your guards to assist the Herems. Many of them are injured."

I pass him, making my start to a lost-looking Solaris.

"As are you," he says to my back.

"I will live." I always do.

After a while, all the Herems are recovered from the carousine, and Duce Merian's carriage had fallen on the other side. He too is salvaged. All of us are assembled by the remaining horses with Duce Merian at our side, ringed by the Avangarde soldiers.

"I thought the purpose of having all you stiff-necked soldiers present was to ensure our safety," Brennon says. Coddling his wrist pointedly. "Well... I do not feel very safe. You were entrusted with a singular responsibility, and yet you failed to uphold even that. Given the circumstances, it appears prudent for us to continue our journey independently, as your assistance has proven to be wholly ineffectual."

Words form in my mouth, rushing out before I have a chance to stop them. "Yet here you are, to my great displeasure, alive, but alive because of them. You should be offering them your gratitude."

Brennon's face sours. "No one asked for your opinion."

"And you think we want to hear yours?" I throw back.

Duce Merian lifts a diplomatic hand. "A thousand apologies for this act of violence, but this was to be expected. You were all duly cautioned regarding the complexities and perils associated with the escalating civil unrest within the realm."

My words take will again. "I think this is more than just civil unrest. The Vulkra's intervention just proves it. They usually reside in the hellscapes. And they send fiends and creatures of the dark to do their bidding, but now they lead attacks? On us no less." I look back at him imploringly to see if he understands what I'm suggesting. "One of us, the next future Ruler of Urium. High King Urus's heir is dead. Then, if all of us are slain, all current prospects to take the throne. If we fall, conflicts shall unfold with the purpose of establishing a new line of succession. Each one claiming a stronger blood right."

I mine into Duce Merian's eyes, unearthing the truth of our mutual qualm.

"Can we debate mad conspiracy theories later? And resume our journey to wherever our next location is," Markiveus submits. "It's nearly night, and we have faced enough perils for one day."

Duce Merian welcomes the distraction, clapping his hands together. "Yes, we have a long journey ahead of us, now lengthened by the absence of our mode of transport. Fortunately, we are already at the orifice of the celestial forest. We will be near the threshold of the Terra soon."

Sounds of stunned mutterings burst from the other Herems.

The celestial forests?

The Terra?

All I know of them—all that anyone knows of them is that they are forest nymphs that hide behind the obscenely fortified gates of their woody citadel.

Is it spectacular or is it horrible and frightening? Couldn't say.

"Duce Merian," Dario says. He shoulders past the others to stand at the front line of the inner ring. "My Regnum, Regnum Cypress, has a long-standing alliance with the Terra. For cycles, they have supplied our lands with earth globs to revitalise our fields. And not once did they accept our invitation to thank them for their service, nor was one ever given." He shakes his head. "They never leave the celestial forest, nor will they ever allow foreigners to breach their gates," he says with quiet certitude.

"But they have," Duce Merian says casually. "I suppose they want the honour of hosting the future Ruler. To look for the one, they must serve all."

We disperse and ready ourselves for the crossing. Duce Merian, the gravely injured Herems, and I are set to ride horseback on the remaining few stallions. Whilst the others and the guards trek on foot around us. At the crest of a faraway mountain, the sun takes its throne, casting forth molten streams of light that cascade and unfurl across the horizon, painting the sky with a crimson ribbon of dusk.

It was not just an ambush, but a coordinated attack. They knew where we would be, exactly where and when. Our timeline was moved up at the last minute, when we were supposed to meet with the High King and Queen, for the last time.

So, the only way they could have known is if someone informed them.