Kastali Dun

Saffra wiped her forehead with her sleeve, keeping the beads of sweat from dripping into her eyes. Her breathing was labored, exhaustion pulling at her every muscle. How much longer could it possibly last?

Already, servants were rushing around to light sconces and hauling candle-lit chandeliers up by ropes and pulleys. The light was fading, night approaching fast. She prayed it wouldn't go on much longer.

In the back of her mind lived the constant fear that Bedelth wouldn't make it. She struggled to keep those thoughts controlled. The chaos helped.

"Over here! There's an empty bed—here!" Desaree's voice range distantly in her mind. A haze had descended, making things seem far away. She blinked, looking across the hall. Desaree stood, waving another injured soldier over.

The doors to the hall stood wide open, a steady stream of people coming and going. Mostly coming. Mostly injured.

Assistants helped to bring the injured up into the keep. Those that arrived came in varying conditions. Some limped along, others had to be carried. Over the past five hours, she'd seen organs spilling out, minor cuts, head wounds, amputated limbs, and much, much more. She'd vomited a total of six times.

Messangers kept up a steady stream of updates on the battle's status. For the first hour, she'd waited in silence with the rest of the hall, shuddering whenever she heard the harrowing screeches and roars out over the sea, the distant explosions that were proof of Claire's efforts. Then the battle had moved to Dragonwall's shores. Everything had changed. The ships had been destroyed, but the Oshean armies were on their doorstep.

The king's forces were battling for their lives, protecting the city. She had felt the world tremble once, twice, three times as the walls shook and broke. A messenger had told them the news. Sorcerers marched with the Oshean army. Beyond the frustrating aspects, like the ability to protect the Osheans from dragonfire, some of them had the power to split the earth and break holes in the city's walls.

The fighting had moved into the outer portions of Kastali Dun, pressing inward.

"My lady, Saffra." A messenger appeared, fighting to be heard over the cries of pain. "The fighting is nearly at an end."

Her body sagged, all but collapsing onto an empty bed. "You're...you're sure?"

"Yes, my lady. I was just there, came straight here to tell you. It should be over within the hour. The king is there, my lady, with his wing."

"Thank the gods," she breathed, looking over the sea of beds. Hundreds lay injured, attended to by healers and Magoi alike. She caught the stooped form of Marcel, going from soldier to soldier.

"Tell me," she said. "Did you see an orange Drengr flying with the king's ranks?"

"Lord Bedleth, my lady?" She nodded. "Yes! He was there. All the king's Shields, even the purple one, Lord Dallin, who came to join the fighting not long after it moved onto shore."

The relief barreling through her stomach made her gasp. "Thank you," she breathed as the messenger rushed off.

Long minutes stretched onward. She rushed about, using what little of her magic remained, until she was completely drained. The only thing keeping her on her feet was sheer stubbornness and a desire to see Bedelth when he returned. She kept back just enough magic to stay conscious.

Somewhere nearby, Miera and Selphie also worked. She caught snatches of their singing voices as they healed the worst wounds, along with the Magoi. Jocelyn rushed by her, a basket of fresh cloths in hand. Their eyes caught, offering encouragement, before rushing off to attend to more wounded.

They would survive this. They had to. And they'd be stronger for it.

A scream made her wince. She located the injured soldier, newly deposited in the bed behind her. He thrashed, wide eyes gazing up at the hall's rafters in pain. "Help me hold him," she cried to the closest servants. A group rushed to her aid, taking his shoulders as she assessed the damage. Blood poured out of a wound in his leg.

She swore under her breath. Among his most dire afflictions, a blade had nicked his artery. He had mere minutes, if that.

She began shouting orders, binding his leg to cut off the circulation before he bled out. Her hands came away red and sticky. "Find me a healer," she cried to the nearest servant. They rushed away. The other two worked beside her to clean and assess other wounds.

The soldier continued to thrash, seconds ticking by. Every instinct in her screamed to use her magic. When she grew tired of waiting, "Is there no healer?!" she cried to no one in particular, beginning to panic.

"They're all busy, my lady," someone said, rushing by.

"Oh gods," she cried, grabbing the soldier's bloody hand in hers. "What's your name?" she demanded. She had to repeat the question three times, squeezing his fingers to get his attention.

"J-Jett, my-my lady," he managed, finally swinging his gaze towards hers.

"Jett," she repeated. "I'm Saffra. We're going to get you all fixed up, yes?"

He licked his lips, eyes still wide, darting over her face. "I...I'm not ready to die. Got...got my wife, my daughter."

"Tell me about your wife and daughter. What are their names?"

He began rambling, but she managed to distract him with questions. At long last, a healer appeared with a bag, fishing for supplies to stabilize the worst of the soldier's wounds. With a prolonged battle like this, most of the Magoi had exhausted their magic, leaving the healers as a last resort.

She held Jett's hand until the worst of him was taken care of, making sure the healer administered a strong dose medicine for his pain. Then she moved to the nearest wash basin and cleaned her hands, trying to wash the stain of red from her skin. Heaps of bloodied rags lay nearby.

Closing her eyes, she took a deep, steadying breath. The influx of patients had slowed drastically. If ever she was going to steel herself, this was the moment to do it—

"My lady!" A servant appeared, agitated.

Or not.

She opened her eyes to regard him. "Yes? What is it?"

"You've been requested—the queen."

"What?" She blinked, glancing around. "Claire?" A sudden worry gnawed at her. As if sensing it, Miera and Selphie appeared beside her, quickly cleaning their hands.

"Is her majesty all right?" Saffra demanded.

"Fine, fine, milady," the servant assured them, but his expression only made her unease mount. "She has need of her ladies."

"Oh." Saffra quickly glanced around. If Claire was requesting her, then she had good reason to. "All her ladies?" She clarified.

"Yes, my lady."

She got Desaree and Jocelyn's attention, motioning them over before giving a few rushed instructions to the nearby servants. The five of them followed the messenger at a rushed pace through the lower corridors and out into a courtyard on the far side of the keep, large enough for a Drengr to land. "Did she only just return from the battle?" Saffra asked, confused. She must have remained with Talon during the bulk of the fighting.

"Yes, milady. Just here."

They raced into the middle of the empty courtyard. Saffra blinked, looking around. "Where...? Is she here?"

"She was just here, milady. Not but five minutes ago."

"Perhaps she got called away," Desaree proposed. "Or maybe he brought us to the wrong courtyard?"

"It is the correct courtyard," a low, male voice assured them, stepping from the shadows.

"You!" she hissed, frozen in place. Her blood went from hot to cold in an instant.

The servant backed up, as if to disappear. "Thank you for your services," the cloaked figure said. Kane.

Before she could blink, a blade shot from Kane's hand, sinking into the servant's throat. The servant's mouth opened, a small cough sounded, followed by the gurgle of blood. Shocked, she could do little more than gasp, watching the life drain from the servant's gaze. He crumbled in a heap. Dead.

Her mind spun to catch up. She whirled, sliding her dagger free, clutching it for dear life. Miera and Selphie stood shoulder to shoulder arms lifted, already chanting to weave magic.

"I wouldn't do that, were I you," Kane snarled.

"Desaree!" Saffra cried, her body freezing with icy dread. He'd moved too quickly, taken advantage of their shock. Desaree blinked back tears, whimpering as she squirmed. Kane held her by the hair, a blade to her throat. A bead of blood broke from the skin where the dagger pressed too hard.

"Release her," Saffra hissed.

Kane barked a laugh. From beneath his hood, she caught a flash of his red gaze. "Cease your chanting, Sprites, or I will not hesitate to kill her."

Miera and Selphie's words died on their lips. Saffra pushed Jocelyn further behind her. The dagger she clutched in her fingers trembled.

"Very good," Kane said. "Now, you will follow my orders exactly as I give them."

"We won't do anything you say," Desaree cried. Her words were firm despite the obvious fear on her face. "You'll just have to kill me!"

"Desaree," Saffra breathed. "Quiet."

"Yes, Desaree. Quiet," Kane purred, dragging his shadowed nose along the shell of her ear. Des whimpered, flinching, but couldn't move away from his touch. "I give you my word. If you follow my instructions exactly as I lay them out, I will not kill any of you. Fail, and I will not hesitate to end your lives. You can join the servant there." He motioned with his head.

Saffra could only blink. This couldn't be happening. How could this be happening?! How had he gotten here?

But she knew. In the midst of the battle, with everyone distracted, Kane had slipped in. Her stomach dropped. Had this been the true intent all the while? Pretend to take the city so he could instead slip in unnoticed.

Oh, gods. They'd been completely blindsided. How had she not seen it?! If ever there was a time to be betrayed by her seer abilities, it was now. But she knew why. The battle had been a greater impending threat. It had likely drown out everything else.

They were alone.

She opened her mouth to scream, to call for help, but Kane anticipated her. His blade pressed harder, earning a shocked gasp from Desaree. The blood on Desaree's neck trickled.

Saffra's stomach churned, acid clawing up her throat.

"Very good. Now, you there, girl, step forward." Kane looked behind Saffra. To her credit, Jocelyn did as he ordered, without making a sound. Her jaw was clenched, but her shoulders were back.

Courage, saffra breathed under her breath.

"What is your name, girl?"

"J-Jocelyn."

"Jocelyn. You know who I am?" Jocelyn nodded. "Good. Then you know I will not tolerate disobedience."

Jocelyn's swallow was audible.

"I have a bottle of liquid over there by the pillar. You're going to move over and pick it up. Nothing more. Don't try to run. You run, your little Desaree here is dead. Understand?"

Jocelyn nodded.

"Good. Then do it. Now."

Snapping to action, Jocelyn rushed over to the pillar where there were two glass bottles. She picked one up, then scurried to Saffra's side.

"Excellent. It seems you can follow instructions. You've officially become the messenger." Saffra placed a hand over her stomach, trying to keep from vomiting. Her eyes darted to the last messenger. She couldn't lose Jocelyn. She couldn't!

"You will remain here," Kane continued, speaking to Jocelyn. "The rest of us are taking a trip. Once we've left, Jocelyn, you may seek out your queen. I've got a message for her. Are you ready to hear it?"

The only bright spot of relief was that Jocelyn, it seemed, would be safe here. But what of the rest of them? What did Kane have planned?

Jocelyn managed a nod, eyes wide and frightened. Saffra reached for her hand, hoping the movement wouldn't be noticed. Jocelyn's fingers tangled in hers.

"You will tell your queen that I will kill the rest of you unless she comes to find me. She can use the magic water you carry. Splash it on a nearby wall. You'll see soon enough how it works. She must come alone, understand? If she brings anyone with her, especially her beloved mate, I will know."

"We're not going with you," Desaree hissed. Kane ignored her.

"Repeat your instructions, girl," Kane said. Jocelyn managed to relay everything back to him, keeping her voice steady. Saffra squeezed Jocelyn's hand, a final goodbye, then stepped forward.

"Take me instead," she said. "Leave them. Take me. I will change places with Desaree."

Kane looked ready to deny her request.

"You've wanted to kill me for months," she argued. "Wouldn't you rather your blade at my throat instead of Desaree's? I'm far more valuable."

She didn't necessarily believe that. Claire loved each of them. But this was something Kane would believe—that her seer abilities made her more important than everyone else.

"Saffra, no," Des hissed, knowing full well that Saffra's abilities were irreplaceable should anything happen. She twisted in Kane's grip. Little good it did.

"Hm. Tempting. Once we arrive at our destination, you may switch places. I'm not stupid, girl. And drop that weapon!" His words were accompanied by a flex of his hand that brought her eyes back to Desaree's neck. Any more pressure and Desaree would be dead. Her dagger clattered to the flagstones. "Good. Now go and get the other vial of water."

Bravely, she stepped forward and retrieved the bottle, looking it over.

"Splash it on the wall there—hurry up."

Uncertain, she uncorked it then did as he ordered. The water covered the wall, creating a shimmer. Then the entire wall turned translucent. A door. She gaped in wonder, her fear briefly set aside for confusion, at the sight of the rocky landscape beyond.

"Walk through it," Kane ordered. "You too, Sprites. I haven't forgotten about you. Now, Jocelyn, dear, you remain behind for your queen. And don't forget my instructions. She comes alone, or your friends are dead. Understand?"

Jocelyn gave a small whimper, her courage wavering, but she nodded, clutching the glass bottle in her hands.

Saffra glanced at Desaree, considering her options. There had to be another way around this. Had to be! But the thought of the blade at Desaree's throat, the blood already beading up around it. One swipe and her friend was dead. There was no other choice.

Steeling her nerves, she walked through the gateway. It tingled, like she'd walked through water. A moment later, she found herself in a rocky landscape, some of the formations towering above her like walls. When she looked back, she saw into the courtyard. Miera and Selphie walked over to the gateway, hand in hand, then slipped through, emerging to join her. Their faces were cold masks. She was certain they could have bested Kane, or at least put him off long enough to escape. But they hadn't. They would never betray their queen by saving themselves and leaving the others to perish.

Kane was the last to follow, hauling a whimpering Desaree under bladepoint.

"Where are we?" Saffra quickly whispered to the Spriten handmaidens. They glanced around, shaking their heads, uncertain. Or perhaps afraid that a single word would result in Desaree's death.

Kane emerged. She watched him step through dragging Desaree. The moment his feet touched the dirt, the gateway behind him began to close. She caught one final look at Jocelyn's frightened expression. Their eyes met, and held. Then the gateway wavered and disappeared, taking all hope of freeing themselves and returning to Kastali Dun with it. 

⭐🌟 DON'T FORGET TO VOTE!!🌟⭐

Happy Friday, Bookdragons!

You didn't think I'd let you off easy with the battle, did you? I did warn you. Alas, things have gotten a little messy. But I'm excited for the direction of the story. 

Can you predict what is coming? I know some of you might catch on. But you'll know for certain in the coming chapters. 

I can't believe we're nearing the end of the book. I haven't written the final chapters, but if I had to guess, there will be 3-4 remaining before the 5th book comes to a close. 

See you next week!

-Mel