Book 7, Chapter 11: Death Arrives

I was going to die.

An entire skirmisher regiment against me. About a thousand men. I’d killed or maimed dozens, so yeah, I got this.

I couldn’t let them pass. Perhaps ten meters or so before the large hall and all the women, girls, eunuchs, in this harem. Twenty if you count where they were starting from. I could not hold this hallway, it was too wide, and I could not let them pass.

If only I had my divinity.

But all I had were remnants. I could fight. I would. Three daggers to my name, resting loosely in my silk belt, two swords. Left, curved. Right, straight.

I knew my brother would be proud, for he was the god of war, but my father . . . harder to judge. The old one-eyed bastard loved his tricks, but he also loved his war. Maybe he’d laugh. Loki had, after all, killed himself by giving me life. And now I was going to die in battle. Yeah, maybe the old man would find that funny. A trickster deity tricking themselves right out of existence.

A shield-wall, five men across, advanced toward me. Three terrified men made up the next line, fully aware they were going to die before me, though they didn’t know the before me part, and then row after row of sword-wielding military men. Damn shield-men mixed in. They were my nemesis in this battle. Shields! If only they carried baskets of flowers, this would be a prettier, lovelier fight.

I was at a loss for ideas and decided threats and confusion couldn’t hurt. Pointing at the lead shield-man, I raised my voice, “I’m going to kill you third. And you!” I pointed at the second left soldier, “I’m going to geld you.”

He stopped, looking horrified, “Me?” The line continued without him.

The lead man also paused, the other three continued advancing, but then saw they were alone and quickly backed up. They were well practiced, backing up slowly, watching me, shields covering their groin to chest.

I thanked fate again these were skirmishers, with small shields. Were they spearmen like the Romans fielded, I wouldn’t make it past the second line. Tower shields, a young girl’s nemesis.

Dying wasn’t welcome, but I had lived an entire year and it was, for the most part, good. Ok, a lot of hell mixed in there, but not awful. I kissed three people, and was kissed by four, and of those, only two were dead and gone. And shortly, I’d meet them.

Maybe Saph would forgive me. Maybe Gun would dance with me again. Maybe we’d fight. He died in battle, after all. We’d feast and drink and laugh at our servants who did not die so gloriously.

I waited. I watched.

Bicepboy staggered over to his fellows. No idea what happened, either he coagulated or patched himself up, but he remained alive. And now, in their midst, talking.

They began arguing again.

God, I needed water.

Footsteps behind me. Fearing to take my eyes off them long, I glanced briefly right. A young girl, maybe seven, made me turn full around. “Hey, this isn’t safe. You need to go, I don’t know, hide in the kitchens.” She had a pretty, lemon colored dress on.

“I’ve brought you water, my lady.” And it was true! In her small hands, a large decanter of water, which she offered up to me.

“Thank you, oh thank you, dear!” I was so happy, I almost teared up. One quick glance to see the enemy soldiers still arguing, and I freed up a hand, taking the jug, and drank as much as possible, and it tasted like newly sprouted spring leaves, filling my mouth, my body, more than needed, and more again, then dumped the remaining water atop my head.

It was cool, refreshing, and I pretended it washed the death and grime away.

“Will you protect us, honored wife-to-be?”

Looking at the little girl, I blinked and blinked. That was a new honorific. “Yes, but only if you run and hide and stay hidden until the castle guard, or I, find you. Go now, quickly!”

She ran away, clumsily, as children do, and I felt refreshed. Like I could kill a whole new fifty people before I was, myself, killed. Those guys at the front, they were in for a world of hurt. I turned back to face them.

Now, the middle shield-man was trying to give his shield to someone else. And that soldier was arguing with him, yelling at him to get back in line. Meanwhile, the rightmost shield-man was pointing not at me, but behind me. I snuck another glance.

Women. Rows deep, holding all manner of cookware from pots to kitchen knives. Behind them, girls, wielding the same. They parted and the eunuch guards, carrying their batons, stepped out, moving between them, with even the mentally handicapped man, Cheese, following along. Only he was holding a giant cleaver. They walked in front of the women, some twenty feet or so, yet remained behind me some distance.

Still. After me, they were fodder. I gave them all the best, warmest nod I could.

The guy I’d beaten up a few days ago, the first eunuch to fight me, nodded right back.

“Hey.” I said to him, “Thank you.”

I turned back, trying not to tear up. Shit, shit, shit! These guys, those women, all here to support me and they’d all be killed or worse for it. Hell, they should all be hiding! Or banging the locked doors down.

Mestamir appeared behind them, made her way through, then jogged over to me.

As much as I didn’t want to, I turned back to face the enemy. They’d reformed, with the previous point man taking the far-left side, as if that would help him. He was as pale as pale could be.

“Ma’am,” from my right.

“Did you arrange this?”

“No, ma’am. But it seems that Tienseon has not called the guard. I apologize, ma’am, but she has exited the harem. These women and guards came of their own accord. There’s nowhere else to go.”

“That bitch!” I shook my head in anger. “That absolute bitch.” Took a deep breath, forcing myself to calm down. “Perhaps you should get the, uh, occupants on tearing that door down?”

“We have teams on it, my lady, but the space is only so big. Only a few women can work on them at a time. Both in the kitchens and the main entrance.”

“Mest, I can’t . . . I can only fight so many. And those women aren’t going to last long after I fall.”

“I will fight and die with you.”

“That’s less comforting than you think, but I thank you. Alright, if you’re staying . . . Oh my god. Ok, I need you in a support role.” How . . . how could I fight an entire regiment? Near a thousand men. Not a chance. All these people were going to die, and my piece of shit aunt would take the throne. She must have thought I’d be captured. Before I’d laid into their army, that was the order, to take me alive. Dear auntie was clearly working with the nuns, and they must have promised her this city after they took it.

Well, I guess I messed that up for her and them. But it was only a matter of time.

“Support?”

“Here,” I passed her the three daggers from my militarily worthless belt. “Kill who you can, people not yet attacking me. Take weapons as their men fall. And, pass them to the eunuchs, ah, I mean the harem guards, pass them any swords you can. Those batons aren’t going to do much. Take weapons for yourself, as you see fit.”

“Ma’am.”

“Also, I’m sorry. I lost yours. They were fine weapons.”

She smiled, “We’ll recover them after we clear out this hallway. Ma’am?” The tough bodyguard teared up, reached out to touch me, but stopped short, hand trembling. “I saw you fight. I . . . believe you.” She fell to her knees, “I believe in you. You are a goddess.” Mest bowed her head, “You are my goddess.”

I couldn’t fight the tears and blinked and blinked. Reaching out, I touched her head. “No . . . no! Mest, please,” I took her hands, “get up. I am not to be worshiped.”

After standing, eyes meeting mine, “You said it yourself, and it’s true. I’ve seen you fight. You are a war goddess made woman. And you will kill all these men.”

“Uh . . . just . . . huh. I guess that’s more or less true. But, like . . . wow. Yeah, you are right.” I mustered what I could of a smile, still very confused by her logic and my acceptance of it, regardless of how reluctant I was, nodding my now slightly less blood-soaked head in agreement, “Whatever happens, we will drink and fight our fill in the afterlife.”

“This I pray.”

“Get the swords while they’re arguing.” Squeezing my eyes shut, I turned around to face the enemy, opening my vision onto them. “I’ll slow them down as long as I can once they march on us.”

Mest walked behind and around me to fetch the swords, never crossing my line of sight to the enemy. But she did make an unhappy face while retrieving the last sword.

It must have been the water, the short break in fighting. I was renewed, wholly renewed, and ready. I felt great, more than great, like I wouldn’t tire this time, no matter how hard I pushed. Maybe I really could kill each and every last one of them. It was strange. Yeah, I was young, and the young win Olympic events. But no one, not a single living person, could fully recover this fast.

Then it hit me. No! No, no, just no. Body suddenly less tense, I looked over at Mest. My first worshiper?

Inhaling deeply, I held it for a heartbeat, then released the air and these thoughts, and refocused on the moment, the anger, the rage. Walking back and forth in front the attackers, staring down any man who dared look at me. All those before me, they would fall.

And if I somehow survived this, my aunt and I would not have words.

They enemy had settled their argument, looked frightened, worried, but determined. Probably a hallway filled with your comrades forces you into idiocy like this. The shield-wall reformed, five men strong, they advanced.

Raising my sword, I shouted, “All of you men who can hear me! You are all going to die!”

The front row halted, forcing the back few to halt, and row on row needed to stop.

After running back to the harem guards, Mest took up a position not quite near my side, but back and right. Good. It’d be slightly more advantageous for me to attack on my left, since those shield-men will have their swords to the wall. She crouched, daggers at the ready, one in her right hand.

The new central shield-man looked as white as a ghost. Tremors shook his shield, his sword point rose and fell. He was their weakest point. The man to his left gave him a sideways glance, then elbowed him. They knew.

I stared hard at him, their point-man driving the wedge.

He slowed to a stop. Someone from behind pushed him, saying, “Go on!” and ruined their line.

I took it. I feint a run straight at the man to his left, the one on my right. Ready, trained for this, he braced, knees bent, shield ahead, sword chest height and at the ready.

Changing directions, I step to the left wall, jump, left leg presses the shield-man’s sword against the stones, right hand thrust through his skull, ear to ear. Landing behind their line and releasing the sword, I step right foot forward, left sword backhand slicing through the neck of the guy I was supposed to geld, then sidestep left, as the third shield-man, shaking now, turns defensively toward me, blade angled down. Stabbing through his right arm at the shoulder, I throw my right leg back, spinning on my left foot clockwise, tearing the sword out of his arm and as his shield drops, I slice across his neck, blood spraying all around.

The fourth guy rushes at me, shield high, I go down on my knees, drawing my sword across his thighs with both hands, bring the sword up while standing, and down on his neck, head rolling away, and step toward the last shield-man. No one attacking on my left side yet, the other group must be slow or regrouping, I bring my sword forward, and stop. He’s crouched low against the wall, sword lying beside him, shield up, begging. “Please, please!”

Normally, I’d have just left him, but still no one was attacking toward my left. I took a quick glance, and they were arms stretched out across each other, holding themselves and their line back, weapons on the floor.

Without looking, I said to the guy, “Stand up and drop your shield.” Nodding at the ranks of enemy soldiers, “Go join your friends.”

He did and, I have to say, with an awful, awful smell. Even discounting all the death, which you really couldn’t, this hallway was never going to be the same.

Sounding as if I’d done this a million times, I said, “Drop your arms! Shields! And tell the man behind you to do the same!” Metal rang out as more swords and shields were dropped, daggers soon following. “Now cross your arms to your shoulders! About face! Follow this hallway out! Go back the way you came and get out of this building!”

I had no idea if that was going to work. Probably only so far down the hallway. But who knows? Maybe way down the line, the men would think a t-rex was chasing them and they had to flee. It didn’t matter. If these guys were forced to fight, at least the first few rows now had to pick up their weapons.

I paced, trying really, really, just really hard not to laugh. These guys were terrified. And I certainly wasn’t laughing at that, but the thought of a single teenage girl, in a very wrecked sundress, forcing a military retreat was just . . . hard to take. It really was about individuals. These first few guys wanted to live and, well, their actions spread to the next few rows, and the next, all the way down.

As the enemy retreated, I followed them. It was slow going. And gross. The hallway was rank with sweat and blood and filth.

Then the anger flushed over me, consuming my being into rage. Tienseon, my aunt by blood, betrayed me. Maybe she thought she was saving the empire. It was certainly collapsing and Serce’s army was not here. But she absolutely betrayed me. Since I really was the empress, she also betrayed the empire.

Yet it wasn’t that alone infuriating me. She had just given over the entire harem’s worth of women – and girls for god’s sake! – to the horrors of war. If I hadn’t been here, if I wasn’t so capable . . . No, no, she and I were not having words, none at all.

I was fully seething when the sounds of heavy boots hitting stone reached my ears.

It was the palace guards, fully armed and fully armored. Seeing the situation, they rushed into the hallway. I kinda looked around, scowled at them, and just walked out. There was shouting, pleading from the enemy, but the guard began to arrest the, I don’t know, tail end of the regiment. The hallway was too full, too pushed back, for everyone to make it out. And the men at the far end of the line probably didn’t believe what these guys were saying.

Who knows?

I left. No one stopped me, but the men did stare, some in horror, others in disgust. Blood dripped off my hair, my chin, and I left footprints behind.

Outside the hallway, the women and girls and eunuchs had moved down, away from all this, clustering near the pool.

Mest waited for me. “Ma’am? Shall we go to the baths?”

I didn’t stop walking toward the harem exit. “Where do you think my aunt is? Now, I mean?”

“My lady, I’m not sure that’s a wise course of action.”

The last of the palace guardsmen entered the harem, leaving a soldier on either side, and I headed directly for them. “She betrayed us all.”

Mest nodded, “Ma’am.”

The soldiers stepped out in front of us, barring our way. One said, “Excuse me, my ladies, where are you going?”

Mest took in a breath, then put her palm in front of me, “This is the Empress Cayce, and she would like to speak to her aunt. Where is the Lady Tienseon?”

“Ma’am.” He snapped to attention. “The lady is holding court. In the throne room.”

After correcting his posture, the other soldier said, “Your Royal Majesty, may I ask that you leave your sword here?”

Probably the whites of my teeth against my bloody face made for a fearful smile as I released the blade, letting it clang against the ground, then walking through the two. It didn’t feel freeing, more like leaving a room and walking down a hallway. But I had only been in the harem a few days. Some of those women must feel off to be outside, if they ever get outside. We entered a larger hall, with several exits, some requiring stairs.

Soldiers were organizing here. Three in command directed the men onto different tasks. Some left up the stairs, some down the hallway we’d just come, others still other directions. The palace must be under attack, or a defense was being organized from it.

“Hey!” A man, surrounded by other soldiers, wearing slightly nicer armor, strode over and stopped in front of us, and said, “You aren’t to be leaving the harem.”

I sighed, full of anger.

Mest hurried past me, saying, “This is the empress and we are going to the throne room.”

The man put his hands on his hips and said, “No, you aren’t. You are going back into the harem and staying put.”

Stepping around Mest, I crushed his left foot’s arch, kneed him in the balls as hard as I could, open-palmed his jaw as he doubled over while I stepped forward, my right leg kicking out his, I tossed him on the ground. Before he knew which pain to attend, I took his curved sword.

We then continued, Mest glaring at him while we did. He did not get up.

“I thought you were going to kill him.”

“I’ve killed a lot of people today, Mest, and I have to say, I am not a fan. But there are a few more people needing killing before the sun will set.”

We soon made it to their throne room. Guards, again, barred the way, and Mest again explained who I was. One look at me, covered in blood and whatever else, and they said no and I put them down and we opened the door, stepping into the room and past two more guards who wisely did nothing. They survived for their lack of action in support of me.

As I entered the main floor, gasps, a scream here and there throughout the crowd. People turned, ladies covering their mouths in shock, some men saying, “Oh my word!”

Tienseon stood near the throne, which was on a dais, five steps leading up to it. She held a glass of red wine. “Ladies and Lords, may I present to you the future Empress Cayce!” Tienseon gestured at me with her glass, then sipped.

“Stay here, Mest,” I said under my voice, heading toward my aunt.

Before the throne, four guards stood at attention, two on each side of the stairs.

I did not stop, nor acknowledge anyone, but my presence sent ripples through the crowd. I was as filthy as filthy could be, some of it coagulating. And I carried a curved blade unsheathed, face full of fury.

She said, “And soon, Princess Cayce, you will be wed and empress! Perhaps after a bath, we shall discuss this further? You indeed seem fit only to be cleaned,” she held her glass as if toasting, eyes searching and searching room.

Many people laughed, some nervously.

Ignoring the guards, I walked straight up to the throne, took her by the collar, dragged her off, and tossed her down the steps onto the floor. Thud, bounce, bounce, she screeched at the bottom, screaming for the guards, and they moved to stop me.

I pointed at her, “Tell them how you let the enemy into our palace!”

She said nothing, and the guards stopped, looked at each other, not knowing what to do.

I walked down, sword in my right hand, scowling at each guard. What could they possibly do to stop me? I let the rage take over and, shaking with anger, pulled her off the floor by the collar, putting the sword to her neck. “Tell them!!!”

“I will never!”

Drawing the blade quickly, I cut off her head and fought the urge to kick it into the crowd. Falling to a stop, her jaw moved up and down, lips quivered, eyelids slowly closed. I released the corpse, blood fountaining.

Body tense, I walked up the aisle a bit, stopped, and shouted as loud as I could, “I am Princess Cayce, heir to the throne! The only surviving heir to the Laemacian goddamn empire! Otholos killed my family!” I pointed the sword at the audience, “Mine! I destroyed his army myself. Me alone! I am taking my goddamned throne back!

“Does anyone want it? You can take it from me right now! If you can beat me in battle right now, you can have the throne! And I won’t even use this sword!” I sent the blade smashing into the ground.

No one moved. Not a soul moved.

I walked up to a man, dressed in fine garments, and grabbed him by the collar, screaming into his face, “Do you want it! Do you?!”

Hands up, he desperately shook his head no, no, no.

Walking to the other side of the aisle, I grabbed a woman, “What about you! You want it?!”

She burst into tears.

A man called out from the center, “I want the throne. I’ll fight you.” He was fully armored, and the chainmail was gilded with round patterns running around his chest. It covered to his elbows, but not his neck.

Looking at the ground, back at him, I strode over.

He asked, “How do you want to do this?”

I punched him in the face, drew his sword, and severed his head. Fresh blood sprayed into the air as his body collapsed. Many in the crowd screamed, but most gasped, some backing up. Dropping his sword on the floor, I walked back to the throne, stopping at its steps. “Who else? Now. Is. Your. Chance.”

A very large man broke from the guards. He was huge, almost as big as my bodily brother, Thomler, a giant among men, who had died so long ago.

Upon reaching him, I wondered if I should prolong this. Nope. If I had to kill the entire lot of them, I’d best not be fancy.

Drawing an enormous greatsword from his side, so giant and heavy as to almost be a battle axe, he swung it overhead down at me. Stepping right foot toward him, I dive-rolled past, too near for the reach of the blade, taking his dagger from his belt as I went.

Wheeling about to face me, sword swinging through the air sideways, the crowd backed up to avoid the savagery. I waited. He brought it overhead, leapt forward to get within reach, and whipped it at my neck from his left side.

Ducking under the blade, I thrust the dagger into his forearm, opening up his arm straight to the elbow, reversed the blade, grabbed his arm to pull myself up and into him, stabbed into his neck over and over, then backed up. Dropping the massive sword, hands on his neck, he took a few steps and collapsed.

After tossing the dagger into his body, I walked around him, picking up his enormously heavy greatsword, dragged it in front of his head, arching my back to lift the damn thing, and split him open, skull to chest. Blood was sprayed abundantly.

Standing, arms outreached, I screamed, “Anyone else?!?”

Pointing at some noble, “You?!” Another, “You?!” but no one answered.

All eyes on me, walking between the crowd, I picked up the soldier’s sword I’d brought into this room, went back to the steps before the throne, and faced the four guards there, resting my gaze on each of theirs. One nodded. Then another, another, and the last, and the four of them gave me a unified head-bow, then snapped to attention, refocusing on the crowd, hands on their hilts, two on each side of me.

I slowly turned to the nobles, squeezed my sword hard, knuckles white, raging, I held the blade overhead, “I am Princess Cayce! I am goddamn, motherfucking Princess fucking Cayce!!!” I walked up the steps so, so, so incredibly angry and ready to kill each every last one of them.

“Otholos killed my family! And you did nothing! You sent no emissaries to me! I’m the goddamn ruler of Nevearrlund! You!” I pointed at a noble, “I should have you hanged for treason!” I pointed at a different bunch, “And you lot! Where are my armies?!?

“Otholos killed my family! Mine! And I killed him! Oh, whatever rumors your heard are true, absolutely one hundred goddamn percent true. I burned that monster alive holding him in my own goddamn hands!

“This is my goddamn empire!” I hurled the sword down, burying it blade first deep into the stone floor at the foot of the stairs, and it shook. “Does no one else want it?!! No one?! Fight me now!” I shook my fists violently, “Now!!! This is your goddamn final chance!”

I paused, filled, absolutely filled with violence.

“I am Princess Cayce and I am . . . your God-Empress!” I shouted at the top of my lungs, fists clenched, arms shaking with fury, heart pounding and blood raging, “YOU WILL KNEEL!!!”

The nearest to me didn’t even hesitate, they’d watched my violence and were terrified. The soldiers, almost as one. Further down, noble ladies, noble men, looking at one another, desperately sometimes, but one by one, they dropped.

Oh, they dropped.

And thus, I took the Laemacian Empire.