Siren's Reach - Fallen Lands Book 3

Chapter Thirty-One

Ashes of Ambition

Evelyn

I couldn't breathe. The whole world exploded into motion and noise yet somehow felt frozen at the same time. The blade stuck at least six inches out of my chest, and the pressure of the man holding on to it was the only thing that kept my knees from buckling. I knew he was talking, but I had no idea what he said. All my mind could comprehend was the pain and the enchantments on the weapon draining the mana and blood from my body in a rush.

I have no idea if we stood like that for a moment or an hour, but something slammed into us from behind. In a violent jerk of searing agony, the blade was ripped free, and I was sent sprawling. I lay on the dirt for some indeterminable time, my senses crackling back to life in a new kind of electric pain. As my mind began to make sense of the world around me, I managed a small gasp, but something was wrong, and I choked out a mouthful of bloody foam.

I ended up on my back, my head turned to face the tumult. Everyone was locked in battle. Amélie was on the ground, unmoving, the last four of our people standing surrounding her. Milly was fighting one-handed, her right arm limp at her side, the other Dragoon behind her and the last two soldiers supporting them as they could. More than a dozen soldiers surrounded them, and I could tell at least a few were classers from the lightning-fast attacks being exchanged.

I needed to help. I tried to stand, but my broken ribs screamed, and my whole body felt like it was buried in heavy sand. My vision was darkening around the edges, and to make things worse, Verrant stood from where he'd been knocked down, adjusted his hat, and began to swagger in my direction. I tried to silently cast [Channel Lightning], determined to do something to help while I still could, but something tore the mana away before the spell could form.

That's when I finally noticed that the whole area felt like a vortex. No one was using magic because no one could. That was the only explanation for why Amélie hadn't healed herself… unless she was dead.

I stopped myself from thinking that. She wouldn't die so easily. Verrant closed in, kneeling down beside me, and I tried to cast a [Sun Ray] directly into his face, but even that instant cast magic couldn't form. Somehow, he seemed to notice what I'd done, and he laughed.

"Some [Hero]." He raised his blade for a final stroke. "Not so arrogant now, are we?"

In a last ditch effort, I summoned a ball of Foxfire right in his face. Much to my surprise, the pink ball of brilliant light appeared on the tip of his nose. He fell back, swearing and swatting at his face to no effect for several seconds before realizing it was harmless. I'd have laughed if I could, but at least it let me know that there were still some things I could do. Foxfire wasn't technically a spell; it was a racial skill, and whatever he'd done wasn't affecting those. I had a moment to think of anything else I could do other than make Verrant look like an idiot, but then another soldier fell, and my amusement died with him.

Verrant got back to his feet, trying to find a way to shield his eyes from the blinding light as he closed in, and I lamented that none of my racial skills could do anything to smack that stupid beard off his face or at least protect the others until help could arrive. I could already see marines dropping in a rain from Dawn's Light, but they were too far away. Everyone was going to die, and it was going to be my fault for showing these people mercy and trying to handle things how everyone expected me to.

I felt a single tear threatening to fall down my face and forced my emotions to calm. If I was going to die here, I'd die with dignity. I wasn't going to give these monsters the satisfaction of seeing me despair. Even if I couldn't move or breathe, I was at least going to be brave and…

No… No, I was just going to be Brave.

My vision swam with spiritual energy. The edges of the world curled inward like paper on fire, but in the center was one clear, shining memory. The face of a stalwart companion who would never fail to help a friend in need. Deep beneath the trembling mantle of the world, where stone flowed like wine and fire sang lullabies to the slumbering titans, the children of Aethabe stirred not with fear but with purpose. It was in such realms that courage was not spoken but lived. And I had learned from the best.

Bones cracked. Skin hardened. I could feel the shift ripple across my frame. Armor replaced softness, purpose replacing fear. Broken ribs and punctured lungs were gone, replaced by an armored carapace and a distinct lack of a need to breathe. Blood flow slowed. Pain became distant and irrelevant.

The claws of my six legs flexed as they gripped and tore at the ground beneath my now jeep-sized form. I was still missing more than half of my hit points, but my cracked exoskeleton was far from the reach of this would-be assassin, and I could move again. I could feel the beating heart of the world far beneath me and my own molten core pounding a cadence with it.

The battlefield nearly froze, and any doubt or fears I'd been feeling were long gone. Now, I felt only duty and purpose. Now, I was Evelyn the Brave. I glared down at the stupid, poor excuse for an imitation mushroom on the head of my foe and let my molten core erupt.

In that singular, sanctified moment, my perspective shifted. I understood what Sebastian felt as a Hive Guardian. I became something more. More than flesh, bone, or blood. I became purpose. Six limbs clad in obsidian armor struck the scorched soil with stately certainty. My vision, once dimmed by blood and despair, now blazed with incandescent clarity. Beneath me, the earth whispered, welcoming its molten child home.

Verrant approached blindly. Too slow, too smug, too certain.

With a sound like splitting stone, I surged forward. My armored form was a juggernaut of justice. He raised his blade with practiced pomp, but it might as well have been paper for all the good it did. I collided with him in a calamitous clamor, and he soared backward, an undignified projectile of limbs and leather. He struck the dirt with a distinctly unsymphonic thud.

No sooner had I beheld his departure than another assassin made his approach. This one leaner, lither, and laden with silvered steel.

Pitiful.

With an elegant pirouette wholly unsuited to a creature of my newfound stature, I twisted and brought a molten claw to bear. His daggers met my chitinous hide with the futility of twigs upon a temple bell. One snapped. Then the other. Then he screamed, fleeing into the shadows.

I did not grant him the courtesy of retreat. Instead, I descended.

Beneath the battlefield, I dove, a living lance of lava and loathing. The earth embraced me, softened by the sovereign fire in my core. He vanished from sight. Some shadow-step, some pitiful parlor trick… but I felt him. The earth told me. The stone sang of his cowardice, shifting into the shadows of his spineless subordinates.

I rose like wrath reborn.

My claw caught his ankle, and down he came. Once. Twice. A third time to silence the spells from his shattered lips. I buried him in basalt and left him for the worms.

Then, I was among them. Another opponent approached. Bold, bearded, and burdened by the belief that bravery alone would save him.

It did not.

I brought forth a column of searing stone, sundered from the crust by my will alone. It enveloped him like a lover. One forged in fire. He fell, glowing, groaning, gone.

Around me, the tide turned. Not with trumpet or triumph, but with the slow, dawning horror that the hunters had become the hunted.

They had surrounded us. Buried themselves like vipers in shadow, poised with poisoned blades and malicious intent. They had thought themselves clever. Silent. Surgical. They had not understood whom they accosted.

I rose from the earth not with grace but with grandeur. A geyser of gleaming chitin and incandescent fury erupting in their midst. A third assassin, concealed so carefully in the cover of a comrade's shadow, found himself quite suddenly and regrettably within arm's reach of my claws.

I did not hesitate. One foreleg lashed out, cleaving through enchanted leather and rib with equal ease. His scream barely escaped before my second strike caught him across the face, and his head turned a full ninety degrees too far. He crumpled like parchment in the rain.

Then I was among them. A veritable reaper of ruthless revenge and resolve. I took them apart, mimicking the methodical might of the great beetle whose miniature mantle I now bore.

One brave fool charged me, hoping perhaps to avenge a fallen friend or earn a posthumous promotion. I rewarded his courage with molten ruin, my carapace venting gouts of superheated steam as I turned and simply walked through him. His blade clattered from fingers that no longer answered his commands.

The ambush was no longer an ambush. It was a slaughter. Their formation broke beautifully, pitifully, as they beheld the blazing horror that now prowled among them. My claws gouged the earth. My core pulsed with volcanic pride. Their enchantments fizzled in the heat. Their coordination crumbled beneath their fear. And still I came on.

The remaining soldiers faltered. One fled. Another dropped his weapon and fell to his knees. I afforded them no more than a glance. They were not worthy of memory. Only death.

Behind me, Milly moved to shield Amélie, bloodied but unbowed. The dragoons regrouped, battered yet breathing. I interposed myself between them and the remaining hostiles, my legs leaving craters in the cracked stone, my molten form casting lurid shadows across the carnage.

I stood sentinel.

Not for glory. Not for praise.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

But because the mantle had been passed, however briefly, from titan to trickster. And I would not dishonor the example that had been set.

Though I was but a fraction of Sebastian's fearsome form—a battle beetle, diminutive and indignant—I was Evelyn the Brave. And I would not break.

… I would run out of mana, however. I felt my limits closing in fast, and I released the form, collapsing to the ground as an injured, exhausted two-tailed fox. The steadfast mindset of a colossus beetle fled, leaving room for all the pain and emotions to flood back in, but knowing that the only enemies left on the field were the cowering remains of the delegation from Ironwood Hollow, it wasn't as bad. I could even breathe, if only just a little.

My ears perked up a moment later when I heard a quiet cough followed by Amélie's concerned voice, "Evie?"

I didn't try to turn and look, but I did give two gentle wags of my tails so she'd know I was alive. Her waking up should have been enough to let me know I'd broken whatever they'd been using to cause that vortex of mana in my rampage, but I still reached out, feeling the mana around us to be sure. My ability to feel the mana around us, even to know that Amélie was nearly out of mana and rapidly absorbing more from my Magic Aspect, made me feel guilty for not learning more about how to use my crown.

Sure, I'd never felt anything like that before, but I'd recognized what was happening almost immediately. If I'd experimented more and spent more time understanding how my aspects worked, would I have been able to counteract the magical interference? Well, probably not. A tiny bit of practice to deal with a sudden and completely unexpected situation while also being assassinated was a big ask. If I could have sighed, I would have.

Fortunately, the Marines and their medics reached us within moments. While the medics stopped, getting to work patching us up and distributing potions, the marines sprinted right past us, stopping some twenty feet away. I had no idea what they were up to until I heard thirty or so of their crossbows discharge at once. I risked turning my head now that my flesh and bones were beginning to mend to see the fleeing delegation from Ironwood Hollow.

Several of their soldiers had formed up, though not very close to us, and our people weren't giving them the benefit of the doubt. Before I'd managed to turn my attention to them, the rank of soldiers were already sprouting enough bolts to be porcupines. No one was willing to wait and see if they were planning to attack or just covering the retreat of their leaders.

Not that their leadership went unscathed either. Two of the guards fleeing with them were on the ground, and a third was limping with a bolt in his lower back. As I watched this unfold, Amélie's auras began sputtering back to life, and the pain really began to fade closer to that familiar ache of a healed injury. I thought they were going to make it back behind the walls, but a burst of a familiar whirring staccato rang out from above, and the road in front of the gate detonated into flames as the heavy ballista bolts slammed down. With no way forward, they grudgingly turned to surrender.

Or perhaps grudgingly wasn't right. They were angry about it, but they were also cowering while trying to look like they weren't cowering. It was hard to really understand what they were thinking. They didn't seem quite resigned to their fate, which made me wary. I even had a spark of fear that the marines closing in to take them into custody might be fired on by the guards on the wall, but then I realized something that perhaps the delegation hadn't.

They didn't really have any protection overhead. The walls might have given the high ground to their soldiers normally, but with Dawns Light floating nearby, they were practically already hostages. If the soldiers on the wall fired on our people, they would certainly see swift retribution from the skyship, and worse, there was nothing to protect the delegation below. That helped me calm right back down, and I relaxed and patiently watched events continue to unfold while the healing magic worked.

It wasn't until they were completely surrounded by the marines that they finally understood everything was over. I wasn't sure if they thought their people above would make a last-minute attempt to save them or if they were waiting for something else, but I saw the moment they gave up on that hope. The weird mix of emotions that played on their features finally fell into regret and resignation. Seeing their faces fall almost made me less angry with them, but only almost.

When I felt like I could take a deep breath again with no more than a dull ache, I got to my feet and shifted back to my fox girl form, brushing away some imaginary dust from where my gown had mended itself. The first thing I did was make my way back to Amélie's side. She was still lying on the ground looking up at the sky but managed a sheepish smile as I approached.

"Ah, I guess I cannot lay here and feel embarrassed all day."

I blinked down at her. "Embarrassed? Are you okay?"

She shrugged, sitting up and taking my hand as I offered it to her. "I am fine. I did not think we had anything to worry about with him. I should have seen it coming, even without my traits. Perhaps I have become too dependent on them, but they did not warn me until it was too late. Even Oracle's Insight failed to see his class and level on the first try. I think he somehow noticed the second time when I broke through, but somehow it felt like he was never standing in front of us at all."

I raised an eyebrow. "He wasn't an illusion. I would have seen through that. Maybe he had some kind of item or something to hide his status? We should check his body."

"There is no body," Milly interjected. "The leader escaped in the chaos."

My head snapped in her direction before I spun around, my gaze finding each body on the ground to verify her words, "What? But I smashed that jerk! How did he get away?"

She gestured toward where I'd crashed into Verrant after my initial shift, and not far away, the slagged remains of a sword melted into the flesh of a dismembered arm. "Not all of him got away, at least."

My jaw tightened in frustration. The last thing I needed was some angry assassin out there with even more of a reason to try and murder me. Before I could get too worked up, though, a wicked grin split Amélie's face.

"You should take that as a souvenir for Sibylla. I am sure she would love it."

I froze. "That… wow, that is cold. But sure. The guy was a jerk."

"What will you do about them?" She asked, motioning toward the captives currently being interrogated by our Master at Arms.

Following her gaze, I slumped. "I guess it depends if they were in on it…. Why can't things ever be simple?"

As much as I wanted to just storm over and demand answers, I stood back and listened as Korrin Bloodfang hammered them with questions, one after another. They all had very similar stories, almost as if their indignation had been rehearsed.

"We had no part in the emissary's actions!"

"We came here to speak in good faith!"

"How could we possibly know he would suddenly attack like that?"

Korrin was aggressively clear that he didn't believe a word of it, his questions bouncing from one person to the next at random, the subject always changing and trying to trip them into an involuntary admission of guilt. By the time he was done, I think they were beginning to worry that we were going to kill them out of hand, but their stories never changed. Either they were telling the truth, or they were very good liars.

Needless to say, they seemed relieved when he growled at them in disgust and announced he was finished. But I had a few questions for them. I gave them a moment to compose themselves before approaching. Judging from the looks on their faces, I think that perhaps they thought this was pretty much over. Like they'd already dealt with the bad cop, and now they only needed to navigate the good cop routine, and they'd be in the clear.

Eager to have things over with, their leader, Lord Severin Thorne, took the initiative and stepped forward. He looked to be in his fifties and carried himself with a refined and calculating demeanor. His attire aimed to strike a balance of just enough finery to appear as a typical loyal nobleman of the spires, but dressed with those elaborate Drolian flourishes that showed the line he was really walking. The way he made sure to speak before me wasn't helping his case.

Lord Thorne offered a tight, practiced smile as he stepped forward with a shallow bow. "Princess Evelyn," he said smoothly, "allow me to speak plainly, so we can put this unpleasantness behind us." He cleared his throat, clearly preparing for a well-rehearsed speech… only for the truth to betray him the moment he opened his mouth. "I was told to smile, submit, and wait for your death."

I raised an eyebrow as a flicker of horror crossed his features. He blinked, clearly surprised by his own words, but he pressed on, either unable to stop or determined to try some kind of damage control.

"We knew someone powerful was coming. We hoped they'd remove you cleanly so we wouldn't have to make this awkward transition of power ourselves." He visibly tried to shut his mouth, but it was like his tongue had turned traitor. "I supported the plan because it was easier than defying it, and I'd rather serve Drolia than be caught in its path." He glanced over his shoulder at the other members of his delegation, all staring at him in frozen shock. "I don't like taking risks. I don't like making enemies. I thought if I groveled prettily enough, you'd be flattered and move on." His voice took on a panicked edge. "I still think that might work, but the odds are dropping fast."

By the time he finished, sweat was beading at his brow, his forced smile frozen in place like he didn't quite believe what had just spilled out of him. He blinked once more and tried desperately to recover with a pained laugh. "I… apologize. That didn't come out quite as I meant it."

I did my best to keep a straight face until he was finished and nodded. My voice turned sickly sweet as I replied, "I see. I appreciate your honesty. In my position, what do you think an appropriate response for this would be? You haven't sworn fealty to me, though I do suspect you are complicit in whatever this Drolian plot against The Spires is. Can I trust you to be in control here after I claim the territory? Or perhaps, do you have an heir who would be more open to loyalty?"

Lord Thorne paled slightly, his throat bobbing as he swallowed. "I would recommend public punishment. Something visible, but not fatal. Enough to make your point, but not enough to make me desperate." He winced. "I don't want to rebel, but I would if I thought you were weak or vengeful."

I nodded encouragingly. "And the rest?"

He glanced away, then back. "I can't be trusted. Not truly. I will say what I must, follow what I must, but I will always look for the safest path for myself. If you leave me here, I will behave… until someone stronger arrives." He hesitated, then added with grim resignation, "My daughter, Marcia, is soft-spoken but sharp. She hates Drolia. Thinks we've disgraced ourselves for generations. She's young, only twenty and untested, but if loyalty is what you want, she's more likely to give it freely. I… taught her too well to see the rot beneath the silk."

Well, that was easier than expected. I nodded slowly, turning back to Amélie and Milly, who stood just behind me, mid-conversation.

My ears perked up at the sound of Amélie's bewildered tone. "What is with all these nobles having convenient daughters ready to take over their lands?"

Even through her helmet, I could feel Milly's amusement radiating like sunshine through a thundercloud. "This was in the briefing, remember?" she replied with infuriating cheer. "He has four older sons, all off playing at glory on the tournament circuit beyond the Spires. It's not that he lacks heirs—it's that he lacks loyal ones."

Amélie nodded along with exaggerated thoughtfulness. "Ah, yes. Of course. Anyone paying attention would absolutely remember that."

She absolutely didn't.

Seeing my chance, I stepped in. "Milly, if we're to consider leaving Marcia in possession of the estate, she'll need a strong and loyal castellan. Someone who can act in my name, keep her safe, and hold the territory if more trouble comes crawling out of the woodwork. Do you think one of the Dragoons would be suitable and willing?"

Milly tilted her head thoughtfully. "Mm, yes. I know just the one, actually. Captain Ralden has a level head, a commanding presence, and the patience of a rock getting rained on. He's already proven himself in logistics and skirmish command. If anyone could help a new lady of the manor survive this mess, it's him."

With an increasingly amused grin, Amélie added, "Does he also happen to have a conveniently single marital status?"

Milly gave a light snort. "He's married. To his job. But he's loyal and not likely to sell out to the first Drolian merchant who waves a coin pouch."

"Then he'll do nicely," I said with a small smile. "Let's go see if he wants a promotion."

As I should have expected, Captain Ralden was already on the ground with us and keeping watch not too far away. Milly led the way and volunteered to explain things to him. With her cheerful demeanor and playful attitude, he seemed to think she was joking at first, but after realizing it was a serious offer, he took a few minutes to calmly consider it. It wasn't very long at all, but for some reason, I had expected him to readily accept or decline almost immediately. When he didn't, the anticipation made the minutes seem to drag on forever.

Not that I could really complain, it was a pretty major decision. In the end, I was grateful that he was able to give an answer at all in such a short time period. What it really came down to was duty. His mission as given from Duke Iefyr was to help protect my newly gained lands, and this fell squarely into that. With that in mind, he accepted, making my life far easier. That just left finding Marcia and seeing if she was ready and willing to take on the mantle of Lady Marcia.

Of course, Marcia had been on the wall above us, watching the whole ordeal. She didn't know what we'd been discussing, of course. First, she'd seen the attack, which appeared to come from people with her father. Then Lord Thorne had been cut off from escape, surrounded, and escorted back to those who'd nearly been assassinated during the parley. Things were already looking bleak before the very loud and angry interrogation began. Finally, when I spoke to him, his confident demeanor had vanished, leaving him slumped and sullen, as if all hope had been lost. To her, it looked a lot like she was going to see her father and his advisors executed in front of the gates.

So, when we'd escorted everyone back inside, sending runners to find her, she'd come quickly. Her expression was full of determination, of which I expected was to argue and plead for his life. Instead, we explained his confessions, shocking her into silence before explaining his simple punishment: She would replace him as the Lady of Ironwood Hollow.

Again, I was surprised when she didn't immediately accept. In fact, she almost looked like she might break under the weight of the responsibility. Well, at least, that is what I thought the issue was at first – but in my defense, I was exhausted, sore, and ready for all of this to be over so I could go home and finally have some peace. But that wasn't the problem at all.

When she straightened back up, squared her shoulders, and declared, "If I accept, it will be as myself, not as his proxy. I won't defend what he did, and I won't let it happen again." I was surprised and pleased.

Naturally, I agreed, taking her oath then and there, and finally received the notifications I'd been waiting for.

War Alert: The Estate of Ironwood Hollow has been conquered by Lady Evelyn of Siren's Reach!

Congratulations! You have conquered The Estate of Ironwood Hollow!

War Alert: Siren's Reach is victorious by means of Total Conquest. The war has been resolved.

Congratulations! Your territory 'Siren's Reach' was victorious in a war!

You have achieved [Guardian of the Sky] level 30! Congratulations! You have received the following benefits! +30 Hit points, + 70 Mana, +60 Stamina, +5 Intelligence, +5 Wisdom, +5 Arcana, +5 Attribute Points, +5 Skill Points, +5 Spell points!

You have obtained the Trait: [Skybreaker]

You have obtained the Skill: [Crashdance]

You have obtained the Spell: [Eye of the Storm]

I couldn't help but smile at that last one, which was great because I'd almost failed to smile at this important event due to exhaustion. It was a welcome surprise. I hadn't actually known I could gain experience toward the class from this, but I supposed it was like any other Quest.

With everything finally finished, I stayed for the minimum amount of time I could to be polite, having a small meal with Marcia and Ralden before we headed back to the ship and turned toward home. It was such a weight off my shoulders to know that we might have some peace, finally. I know that there were a few more important things to deal with, but at least the most pressing problem was resolved. It would give us an opportunity to take a few days to ourselves. I was really excited to see Lilith again now that she was back to normal, and it would give us an opportunity to get to know Alice and Caeda, learn more about this dungeon Sibylla made, and really, with a little luck, even de-stress a bit. Things were looking up.