Dinner came and went far too soon for Faria. Within three short hours she was standing on a pier outside Xayall’s east gates while her father’s provisions were loaded onto a barge to take him to the port. He was on the deck, organising where everything went and discarding anything unnecessary. She simply watched dejectedly as the inevitable parting drew ever nearer.

He was aware of her feelings, but the painful decision to put them aside had to be made. After all, this would be for her safety as well, and that was paramount. Soon, however, he could find no more little excuses to keep the barge there any longer. He had already requested different supplies, letting him stay by her for a few minutes more while the matter was attended to.

Slowly, he stepped off the barge and approached her, trying not to look as regretful as he felt. She fidgeted with her robes, looking at the ground in front of him.

“I’ll return as quickly as possible,” he said softly.

“It’s not that…” she replied, speaking more to her jacket than to him. “You’re still sick. If something happened on the way…”

Her voice disappeared in her throat, swallowed by the distressing thoughts that flooded her. She clung onto his long, flowing robe and held him tightly as he enveloped her in a warm embrace.

He stroked a loving hand down her cheek. “Don’t worry about me, Faria. I know things could get dangerous, but… I’ll look after myself. And you must do the same. Can you promise me that?”

She nodded.

“I love you, Faria.”

“I love you too,” she mumbled, pressing her head to his chest.

Slowly, he pulled himself away and stepped onto the barge. She wiped her eyes and stood straight, reluctantly reminding herself that now her father was leaving again, she was effectively the head of the sovereign. She still had an image to uphold. As the wooden vehicle drifted into motion, he waved to her with a gentle, tired smile. She waved back and smiled in reply, although she still brimmed with worry.

Once the barge was out of sight she gave a deep, lonely sigh, then turned and walked slowly along the pier. Bayer had been waiting close by the whole time, and together they walked back into the city towards the Tor.

**

It was night. The stars shone brightly against the obsidian backdrop of the sky, the ghostly white moon looming silently among them. The crater caused by the ancient meteor impact was easily visible on the moon’s surface. On some nights the shadow of the massive scar turned the satellite into an eerie, unwavering eye watching over the planet.

The moon used to scare Faria when she was younger. She always felt it was leering at her like some possessed astral giant. It caused her many nightmares that only subsided when her father told her where the crystals came from and showed her a map of the moon from the library. Now that she knew what it was, it didn’t bother her as much. She almost felt a degree of closeness to it in some small way, perhaps because of her connection to the crystals.

She couldn’t sleep. She sat on her bed, still in her grand Imperial robes, staring at the starry sky.

Restlessness had plagued her all evening. Unpleasant thoughts about her father, Nazreal and the Dhraka swirled through her mind. His staff, although resting across the room, buzzed with an energy that forbade her to relax. She looked at it accusingly, studied it for a minute or so, then pulled on her cloak and marched out to the gardens.

The stave held a beautiful blue-green hue in the moonlight. She turned it over in her hand and watched the light play through the crystal winding along the haft, more intricately woven than the one she trained with.

In the same spot she had been standing earlier, she took a deep breath and readied herself, the staff pulsing in her hand. She held it aloft and, as she had that afternoon, tried to draw water out of the air to the staff’s tip. Instantly, far quicker than before, a light spiralled up the shaft’s crystal web and burst into the spearhead above her. A cloud of mist appeared and shrank back to the tip; milliseconds later an orb of water quivered over the end of the staff, still growing as more mist swirled into it. Able to ignore for now the creeping burn in her hands, she watched in awe as a power she never thought she could wield coursed through the weapon. The waves of tingling heat intensified, running through her veins in hot stabs.

She pointed the stave towards a tree, the ball of water becoming so big that it could hardly support its own weight, rippling and quaking. With another shift of her fingers and pulse of energy the ball froze instantly around the staff’s head. Suddenly it became too heavy for her and she dropped it forwards, hitting the grass with a dull thud. She couldn’t lift it up. Instead, she grabbed the haft with both hands and sent a small, sustained energy through it that heated the crystal and melted the ice around it, letting it slip free.

She observed the frozen ball with a mild sense of accomplishment, albeit veiled by new frustrations that she still lacked the control her father had. The pain in her hands wouldn’t subside– it felt as though someone was plucking her fur with red-hot tweezers. She dropped the staff and loosened her gloves, massaging her hands while holding them to the cool night air to try and calm the prickling burn. As she blew on her palms, she sensed something in the darkness behind her.

She jumped round. “Who’s there?”

A familiar shadow emerged from under the tree. “It’s me, Your Highness,” Bayer said, wearing his armour as comfortably as if he slept in it.

She turned away and gave a silent, impatient sigh, picking up her staff. She held her hands to the ball of ice to see if that was a more effective treatment for the resonance’s feedback. It wasn’t.

“Well, at least I know I can use it,” Faria said idly, tapping the staff against the ice.

Bayer was silent. Her frustration at his presence rose in her stomach.

“Did you want something?” she asked, feeling impertinent.

Bayer bowed his head. “It’s my duty to protect you, Your Imperial Highness. I was concerned when I saw you heading outside.”

She folded her arms. For her to be wandering around by herself at night with no guard given her father’s worries was, admittedly, a little irresponsible. Although irritated by his common sense, she was grateful for his protection. “Yes, well… thank you. But I’m all right.”

“Are you sure? It’s not like you to be awake this late, Your Highness,” he said softly.

It wasn’t true- Faria often didn’t sleep at night. She would just read or talk with her father instead of wandering around outside by herself. She sighed. “I know. I’m just… I’ve never seen Father look so worried.”

“He has great concerns about Nazreal. All of Eeres is unsettled by it.”

“Yes, but…” She knew that. This time there was something different. It had scared her to the core. The deep, almost infinite apprehension in her father’s eyes…

She shook her head to try and rid herself of her doubts. Drawing a tired hand over her ears, she looked into the sky wistfully. “Xayall’s never the same without him. I hate having to make these decisions by myself. I’m worried I’ll do something wrong.” There had never been such a long stretch of time where he wasn’t present at the daily government meetings. He and the Councillors made the major decisions and she was always there to watch their recommendations, but, for the moment at least, she was now the higher authority they would report to. Holding the reins of an entire sovereign wasn’t a role she enjoyed. She likened it to driving a heavy Theriasaur down a gravelled slope.

Bayer looked up at the Tor. “Your Highness shouldn’t worry about the city. For the most part it governs itself.”

She didn’t listen. “And then the Dhrakans… I know they’re aggressive, but do you think Father’s right? Would they really try attacking us?”

  There was a tense pause. The night’s heavy air pressed in around them.

“You will be protected, Your Highness.”

She looked uneasily to the grass. “I see...”

*

The dark forest of Xayall’s thick leaves lay still, an oppressive silence descending over the landscape. Even the wind seemed to be lost among its shield of branches.

A sound pierced the blinding shadows.

Rumbling towards the city, a carriage’s wheels thrashed the stones below it, the wooden framework creaking agitatedly as it raced past the raised torches illuminating the path to the north gate. Four pike-bearing coati guards and their sergeant marched into place, brandishing their weapons as a signal for it to stop. The Theriasaurs drawing the vehicle skidded to a violent halt, panting raggedly.

“What’s your business?” the sergeant called to the hooded driver, moving round the large creatures to give a closer address.

From underneath the hood spoke a sharp female voice. “We’re here for your city.”

“Xayall’s gates are barred. What do—”

Something pierced the sergeant’s neck, strangling his voice. He felt a tearing in his throat and a warm trickle down his collar. Just ahead of him his men had slumped to the ground, two black-clad Dhraka to each, their swords dripping with blood. He dropped his shield and spear as the sounds around him faded to muffled noise and more bodies were cast from the sentry towers above him. The last thing he saw before he died was his blood-covered hand, clawing vainly at the crossbow bolt lodged in his neck.

The driver leapt from the seat. She gave the sergeant’s body a contemptuous kick and looked to the large metal gates before her. The team of thin, snake-like Dhrakans waited hungrily for their next order, relishing the armour stained black to match the darkness. Above, the ones who had dispatched the sentries looked to the other gates, which were by now suffering the same brutal assault. They looked obediently to their commander.

She was a vicious hybrid, not quite recognisable as any particular species. The different patterns of her body had been forced onto a shape that didn’t fit them. Her ears were similar to a lynx’s, her fur mottled like a hyena’s. Her face was feline, squat and gaunt. Patches of her fur were wearing thin; underneath could just be seen the sheen of scales. The fur on her arms disappeared at the wrist, leaving scaly hands with savage, jet-black claws. Around her head was a ragged bandanna with a purple crystal sewn in the centre.

Another dragon appeared from the darkness behind her.

“The army is ready, Commander Vionaika.”

“Good,” she snarled, her reptilian eyes glinting with violent promise above her unfeeling scowl. She gave a quick glance to the carriage. A silent metal body sat within, awaiting its release.

In front of her the gates opened with a deep, ominous rolling.

She licked her lips.

The forest shook under the weight of the army that stirred in the darkness.

*

Faria and Bayer were inside the Tor. She had been hoping for more reassuring conversation from him, but the dedication to his role as a bodyguard seemed to prevent him from expressing anything greatly personal. She wondered whether it was down to her age, too. Whatever the reason, at present he was only a sounding board for her woes. His assurances that she would be kept safe for as long as he could stand didn’t aid her quest for peace of mind.

She stopped by a window and looked outside, gazing at the stars. A shadow moved across the sky. She couldn’t discern it; it disappeared against the night seconds later. Dismissing it, she turned back to her ocelot guardian.

“I’m sorry, Bayer. I’m boring and selfish.” she said solemnly. “I hate sounding so spoilt. I need to stop complaining and make myself stronger.”

“You train a lot already, Your Highness.”

She idly raked a claw along the stone windowsill. “I mean more than just training. I’m not much of an Empress if I just sit in a tower and whine all day. I want to be someone Xayall can be proud of. That my Father can be proud of… so he doesn’t have to worry.”

Bayer said nothing, staring her way with a slowly darkening squint. She gave him a puzzled look in reply. A shadow flashed behind her.

“Bayer, what—”

Suddenly he leapt for her; she was thrown aside and hit the floor. A bulk of creature swept through the window and careened into the wall, sneering and spitting.

The dragon’s piercing steel blade lodged itself in the stone. In a second, Bayer drew his sword and sliced at its neck. With a whimpering snarl it collapsed to the floor, dead. The lithe cat looked out of the window and immediately saw more dark shapes flying hungrily towards them. From the streets below came the harsh sounds of fighting as more of Xayall’s guards discovered the brutal invaders.

“RAISE THE ALARM!” he roared, his voice booming down the corridors. Grabbing Faria, he sprinted away around a corner, just in time for two more dragons to swoop through the window over the body of their dead comrade.

He quickly led Faria to the upper levels of the Tor, rushing past scores of imperial guards hurrying to defend the tower. Her heart was pounding, the crystal in the staff oscillated urgently.

This wasn’t real. It couldn’t be real.

What should she do?

Behind them rang the clash of blades. She looked over her shoulder to see the battle’s shadows on the wall when Bayer came to an abrupt stop. She turned forwards; a moment later something punched through the air and hit her guard squarely in the jaw, sending him reeling across the floor.

The creature flexed its metal claws, fixing its big, black eyes on her with a cold, empty glare.

Were it not for the metal enhancements, she would have recognised the intruder as a raccoon, a being far removed from this thing’s vision of emotionless menace. Its arms and claws gleamed in sharp, forbidding metal; the top of its head and its left ear were plated with the same harsh steel.

“What is that?” she choked.

The raccoon flashed into action. Its forearm cannoned forwards, a long metal chain rattling behind it. It hurtled past her left flank, carving deep gouges in the wall next to her. Startled, she spun round just as the raccoon’s other arm rocketed forwards, aimed at her skull- Bayer pulled her clear just in time. The metal fiend began reeling his arms back into their sockets at break-neck speed, ripping up the tiled floor with his knifelike claws.

She only had a second. Her mind raced. Desperately she threw one end of the staff against the wall. A ripple surged through the stone, shaping it into long, finger-like structures that chased after and snapped around the raccoon’s wrists like snakes, hardening in place moments later. He pulled against the rocky shackles and hurled his body into it, trying frantically to break free. Ignoring the searing pain in her hands, Faria pulled Bayer up and, the path in front of them now blocked by the uselessly wrestling raccoon, turned back. Metres before they reached the corner a figure tore into their path and loosed a volley of crossbow bolts at them.

Bayer barged Faria aside. One bolt bounced off the wall and snapped, the others impaled the ocelot in the right shoulder and left hip. He collapsed backwards, sword clattering to the floor.

“Bayer!” Faria cried. She ran to him, trying to lift him up by his shoulders. He grimaced in pain, glaring at the creature that had shot him.

Vionaika’s piercing, sardonic grin filled Faria with equal fear and anger. The crossbow magazine’s final bolt was pointing between her eyes; even the fox’s most defiant stare wasn’t enough to sway the ruthless hyena hybrid in front of her.

Vionaika licked her teeth through a wicked grin. “I haven’t had this much fun in a long time,” she hissed.

Faria clutched the staff tightly, trembling. “What do you want?”

Vionaika shot her a contemptuous sneer. “How dare you speak to me, vile wretch!” She lashed out with her leg and landed a kick on Faria’s muzzle. The vixen reeled back, but as her staff hit the ground a pillar of rock burst from the floor and punched the snarling hyena back into the wall.

From behind the thrashing raccoon a Dhrakan appeared. His destruction-hungry eyes saw Bayer and Faria, and with greedy malevolence he lit a grenade with a firebrand on the wall. He tossed it forwards, eyes alight with anticipation. He didn’t see his Commander until the bomb flew from his grasp.

Vionaika looked up in a stupor to see the grenade roll along the floor. In her line of sight was Aidan’s staff. Fear torched through her body as the explosive’s fuse fizzled down to nothing.

“Wait, you fool!”

Boom.

CONTINUED IN LEGACY
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