Queen Yavara Ch. 55

Arbor's brow furrowed, and her fist tensed. She took a deep inhale through her nose, and said, "Fuck you too." Then she flew away. I smiled, and watched her go. I was glad we parted on good terms.

ZANDER

Brianna Dedaclia was usually a bubbly girl who gave off the impression of being somewhat of a twit, though she was anything but. She was as cunning and dangerous as all the other hybrids, and her easy-going demeanor was very effective at making people lower their guard. While the rest of the city was in full-blown panic, she issued orders with a smile, laughed easily, and joked to bring levity to the pervading dourness. She was the polar opposite of Leveria Tiadoa.

"How exactly do you expect this to work?" Titus asked me as we watched Brianna in her element, "None of the hybrids will betray Yavara for Leveria even if they believe you."

"I don't have time to convince them anyway."

"So, what's the plan then?"

I cleared my throat, and looked over my shoulder. Yavara was surveying everything from atop the tower, though I thought it was more likely that she cared less about seeing everyone, and more about everyone seeing her.

"Zander?" Titus asked, "You have a plan, don't you?"

"I did, but we're not going through with it. We're improvising now."

"We're going to improvise a coup against the most powerful being in the world?"

"Leveria poked ten holes in my plan the moment I was done explaining it to her. I asked her what we should do instead, and she told me that the best plans are crafted in the wake of opportunity. So, we are waiting for an opportunity."

Titus raised his brows beneath his black veil. "You're taking orders from her now?"

"I trust her."

"Why in god's name would you do something as foolish as that?"

"I trust her capacity for spite and her willingness to survive. She knows she can't run from me, so her only way out is through Yavara."

"Or perhaps she's hoping you'll get killed. Like you said, she is a spiteful creature."

I smiled. "Of course she's playing all the angles, Drake, but we must trust her now, because that is our only chance."

"Do you even know what her plan is?"

"She refused to tell me."

"Brilliant," Titus sighed, and glanced at Brianna. "So, what kind of opportunity is our little queen waiting for?"

"We need a way to get Brianna alone that won't attract attention, then we take her."

"That's rather difficult when she's the center of attention."

"Indeed. Not to mention Kiera is likely to check up on her at any moment, and Yavara is being ever-watchful."

"And so, the day will slip by us without a single opportunity presented."

"Then we must create the opportunity ourselves."

"Ah, so a plan has formed after all."

I looked out at the calm bay, and muttered an incantation under my breath. A fog formed in the distance, then a ship was borne from it. Immediately, the watchman let out a cry, and the alarm bells were tolled. I looked up at the tower. Yavara's gaze was fixed on the far horizon, then it levelled on me.

A scouting ship? She asked telepathically.

It's likely a Lowland illusion. That fog isn't natural.

I'll check it out.

Be careful. It could be a trap.

It most certainly is. She answered, and launched from the tower. The entire city surged into chaotic defensive positions as Faltia, Furia and Eva barked orders. Soraya hastily organized her construction crews out of the way, while Kiera made her crews drop their supply caches and sprinted for the cover of the castle. Brianna ran for her command tent, where she would stay throughout the battle to organize the distribution of supplies. It was pertinent that she be readily accessible to all of the couriers during the madness of battle, but upon the onset of the engagement, she was not needed. She parked her ass on a stool, and twiddled her thumbs nervously beneath the table while she smiled and waved at the passing soldiers.

"Opportunity." Titus mused with a fanged smile.

"Indeed." I said, and walked over to Brianna's supply tent. She connected eyes with me a hundred paces away, and though she broke the contact sporadically to encourage passing soldiers, she made it clear that she was aware of me every step of my journey.

"Zander!" She said grandly when I was within the radius of conversation, "What up, bro?"

"I'm just checking to make sure you've got all the supplies you need." I said, walking under the shade of her tent.

"Is that so?" She asked with a twinkle in her eye, "And why were you and Mister Fat-fang spying on me?"

"We were discussing the logistics of battle, and noting how important your role is."

"Hmm..." she grinned, and put her feet up on the table between us, "I wonder why you're lying to me?"

I swallowed. "Titus was telling me you have the word 'Wow' tattooed around your anus. I wanted to know if he'd managed to capitalize the 'O.'"

Brianna exploded with laughter. "He did! I don't call him Mister Fat-fang for his teeth!" She wiped a mirthful tear from her eye, and leveled her amused smile at me. "That was very good, Zander, but I'd like to hear the truth now. Specifically, why I saw your staff glow a second before that mysterious ship appeared in the harbor."

I snorted. "Who was spying on who, Brianna?"

"I never did trust you, bro. Don't take it personally." She pulled out a joint from her cloak, and lit it between her teeth, "Kiera's watching us right now. I signaled to her ten minutes ago. By now, she's put two-and-two together. So have I. Whatever you're doing right now, you don't want Yavara to know about it." Brianna grinned around her joint, letting the smoke filter over her face, "If you do anything funny, Kiera's going to make sure Yavara knows about it. So, let's hear it, bro."

I looked over my shoulder, and noted that Keira was indeed, watching us very carefully. I waved to her, smiled, stood up, and walked away from Brianna. I meandered over to Furia, and asked if she needed any help, then I walked briskly over to Faltia to do the same. Brianna and I watched my magical projection do this as we sat at the table, and Kiera watched it from her perch. When she was satisfied, she made eye-contact with Brianna's magical projection, and nodded. Then, she slipped away to join her crew.

"Wow, man." Brianna giggled. She took a deep inhale of weed, and blew it out. "Well?" She asked, "What are you going to do to me?"

"I'm going to render you unconscious."

"That's it?" She tittered through a smoky exhale, "Shit, bro; I was going to do that myself. Before the lights go out, can you at least tell me why you're doing it?"

"Yavara's not the real Dark Queen. Leveria is. I need Leveria to impersonate you so that Yavara will have sex with her, thereby transforming her into a hybrid—but, I'm postulating that Yavara's transformative powers are actually a product of her unnatural merging with Alkandi, and that Leveria will not just transform, but take Alkandi's spirit from Yavara entirely, thereby making her the Dark Queen she was always meant to be."

Brianna blinked, looked at the joint she was smoking, then looked at me. She giggled, farted, and took another drag of her smoke. I put my hand on her foot, and sent her into a state of blissful slumber. Titus scooped her in his arms, and gracefully carried her along the side of the wall, and into the catacombs. I followed behind, allowing the projection of Brianna to play out behind me, before I guided the mirage to get up, walk behind a corner, and disappear.

ELENA

They had found us. A hound yipped and barked outside of the butcher shop, and the watchmen surrounded the windows and doors. We'd barricaded the front door with all the tables and chairs we could get our frantic hands on, and Catherine held the windows together with her spells, shielding the glass from the strikes being dealt by hammers and spear-butts. Mom and I stood behind the counter, an arsenal of heavy objects between us. There were knives, ball-bearings, iron hooks, and buckles.

"Remember," I said, testing the weight of a hook in my hand, "when they get close, stab first. Go for the face and neck."

"Face and neck; got it." Mom echoed; her composure remarkably calm.

Catherine was in a state of full-blown panic, her bulging eyes flitting from window to window, her trembling hands casting spell after spell. Her complexion was ghostly, and her back was bowing as though a weight was upon her shoulders. Every spell she cast bought precious seconds, but it cost her dearly. Still, she sapped herself without thought, firing incantations from her fingers until she was stumbling like a drunk. Her terror had stripped away her sanity.

"Catherine!" I yelled.

She wheeled around. It was like she didn't recognize me when she looked at me.

"Get back behind the counter!" I ordered.

She blinked at me.

"I said get the fuck back here!"

She turned back around like she hadn't heard me, and redoubled her efforts. Her hands shot this way and that, and she screamed at the top of her lungs to the watchmen outside, "Stay back! I said stay back! Do you know who I am?! I SAID STAY BACK! I'M WARNING YOU!" Her voice was so shrill that it was a squeak, so rasped with terror that I could hear the blood in it. She cast two more spells that brought her into a deep bow, then two more that dropped her to her knees. She cast one more spell, then collapsed completely, sobbing.

I jumped over the counter as the sounds of breaking glass erupted from the front of the shop. I grabbed Catherine by the hips, and pulled her upright. She was wailing in terror, thrashing manically, the entire front of her gown soaked in her urine.

"Save me, Elena!" She screamed, "I don't wanna die, I don't wanna die, I don't wanna die, I don't wanna die!"

I hauled her over the counter, set her down behind me and Mom, and whirled to face the front windows. Catherine clawed at my leg, begging me with snot and tears pouring down her face. I ignored her, snatched a ball-bearing from the counter, and hurled it through the broken window. It struck a breaching guardsman right in the face, and he tumbled backwards. Mom grabbed a ball-bearing, and threw it as hard as she could at the other window. The ball bearing went wide-right by five feet, and bounced uselessly to the floor.

I gawked at her. "Mom, what the fuck was that?"

"I never played sports, OK?!" She gave me an irritated look, and hurled another ball-bearing. This one met its mark, dinging off the helmet of a man coming through the right window. "Huh, how about that, Elena?!"

"I'll take the left window!" I yelled, grabbing a hook, "Just keep throwing! Don't stop!"

I launched the hook across the room. It spun viciously before striking the man in the chest, knocking him backward out the window. I threw another hook, blasting a man in the shoulder as he came through the window. He twirled with a grunt, but he fell forward. Mom's throw struck the ceiling, and the man it was meant for barreled through the window, and rushed the counter. He launched his spear, Mom ducked, the spear struck the wall behind us, the man drew his sword, Mom grabbed her knife, the man raised his arm, Mom stuck the knife in his throat. He stopped abruptly, a look of utter surprise on his face. Blood trickled from his mouth, and poured from his neck. Mom retracted the knife, and the man stumbled forward. She looked at the crimson blade, then at the man, then at me, an expression of absolute bewilderment on her face.

"Holy shit, I just killed someone!" She gasped, "Elena, I just—LOOK OUT!"

I ducked instinctively just before a spearhead was shoved into my eye. I grabbed a hook from the counter, stood up, and hurled it into the man's face. It smashed his nose in, and when he opened his mouth to scream, I jammed a butcher's knife down his throat.

Two more men came through the windows. I struck one in the face with a hurled ball-bearing, and he went down screaming, clutching his crushed cheek. Mom hit a man in the chest with an iron hook, and he took the blow in stride, and rushed around the end of the counter to flank us. He rounded the corner, then his head suddenly shot back, my thrown knife stuck in his eye. He stumbled forward with a groan, then face-planted in the floor, the blade driving through the back of his head.

"Goddamn, Elena!" Mom exclaimed, stuck somewhere between impressed and horrified.

"Duck!" I screamed, and pushed Mom out of the way as three crossbow bolts thudded into the wall behind us. The sound of sudden footsteps alerted me to the invasion the archers were covering, and I rolled out from behind the counter, snatched the cleavers from my belt, and whirled into the trio of men. I caught one clean in the face, splitting it in two from forehead to chin. The next man thrusted his spear at my gut, and I had to curve my body around it, my hands and feet making the end of my parabolic arch. Transitioning from the compromising stance, I pirouetted, and brought my cleaver down hard. It chopped the man's hand clean off, and he screeched, clutching his pumping wrist. The third man was the one whose cheek I'd crushed, and he came at me with a fury. I dodged his spear easily, but my footing was not nearly what it had been before my death. My ankles knocked, I pitched forward, and smashed into the man's braced shoulder. I was hurled backward, and smashed into the side of the counter, the wind blasted from my lungs. The man raised his spear to make the killing blow, and was suddenly beset upon by a fury of blonde hair. Mom had pounced on the man from atop the counter, wrapped her legs around his head, and was now stabbing him repeatedly in the face as she screamed at the top of her lungs. The man toppled backward, and she landed atop him with both her hands bathed in crimson, both clutching knives that were imbedded in his eye-sockets.

"Goddamn, Mom." I said, then leapt to my feet, snatched her by the hair, and dragged her backward over the counter just as the door burst open. The chairs and tables we'd jammed in front of the door were blasted to the side, and the morning sunlight exploded into the room, glinting off the helms of the watchmen as they flooded after it. They dropped the battering ram with a mighty thud, drew their swords, and crashed into an invisible shield. Energetic light shot from the fingertips of Catherine Jonias as she lay on the floor behind the counter. Her face was as pallid as paper, her lips were turning blue, and her skin was shriveling, aging her by the second.

"I made a fool of myself, didn't I?" she croaked, "Screaming and pissing myself like a goddamn toddler."

"Catherine, you can't—"

"Shut up!" Catherine yelled, "don't waste your breath telling me how to die! This is much gentler than what was in store for me with them!" She blinked away her tears, "God, I can't believe it's already over. It feels like yesterday I was drawing cartoons in kindergarten." She looked at me, her expression suddenly nearly frantic again, "What's it like on the other side? Tell me!"

"Light." I whispered, "Just a gentle light, a feeling of warmth. That's all I remember. I don't think it's a place for memory."

She narrowed her tearful eyes. "You're a lying cunt."

"It's the truth." I croaked, "It's lonely, but it's beautiful."

"Lonely and beautiful." She muttered, her expression softening, accepting my lie, "I can take that."

"Oh, Catherine!" I hissed, falling onto her, collecting her in my arms.

"Why did you think I wanted you to hug me?!" She hissed in my ear, "Did I ever seem like the sentimental type to you?"

I laughed into her greying and thinning hair, "Even prickly bitches have soft insides."

Her bony, arthritic hand touched my chest, and she gently pushed me back. The old woman in my arms stared up at me, the cataracts dulling her once-clear eyes. "You know of death curses?" She whispered.

"Yes?"

"There are also death-blessings." She extended a knobby finger, and pressed it gently to my sternum, "It's all I can give you. I return your body to the state it was before you fell from the tower." She grinned cruelly at me, "This time, don't fuck it up."

"I won't." I whimpered, "Catherine, I swear I—" but she'd already gone limp in my arms.

"Elena?" Mom asked, her hands trembling around the knives she held.

I took two deep breaths through my nostrils, and felt my lungs fill fully for the first time since my rebirth. My heart beat steadily, my muscles electrified, and my nerves remembered my body like they used to, knowing every reflex and motion, every strike and stance.

"Stay behind me, Mom." I muttered, and stood up, the meat cleavers ready in my hands. The shield around us disappeared. I saw it happen in slow-motion. The ethereal bubble thinned to nothing, revealing the faces of the watchmen surrounding our counter. I didn't recognize any of them, but I could see that they recognized me. They remembered the hybrid at the top of the tower. They remembered how she'd slaughtered them by the dozens before she fell. It was a face that had tormented them in their nightmares, and the great relief they felt in their waking moments was the knowledge that she was dead and gone forever. I saw the horror cross their faces, and I knew which men these were. I grinned.

"Oh shit—" were the last words of the first man before I leaped over the counter, and split his throat right in half. He gargled and clutched the new smile beneath his chin, crimson flowing between his fingers, dripping onto my face as I decelerated into a crouch, and launched myself into the fray. I went low. My cleavers hacked through shins and calves, split kneecaps, sliced tendons from heels, and carved through the bellies of hamstrings and quadriceps. The watchmen stabbed frantically at the floor, but I was already gone, a scurrying spider too fast to catch, too dark to see in the sharp contrast of morning's light. Dust speckled the sun rays that illuminated the room, casting the shapes of broken doors and windows onto the floor, and I stayed at their edges, living and killing in the deep shadows, those shadows that still had much of the night still left in them. I scurried between a man's legs, and chopped upward into his crotch. As he went down screaming, I rolled into the window's square of light, darted away from a thrusted spear, and reemerged behind my assailant as he frantically looked for me, his eyes struggling to adjust from light to dark. I carved out his voice-box, and his gurgled shriek alerted everyone to where I was, but I was already gone.

I climbed a man from behind, and planted a kiss on his cheek before slicing his throat. He went down backwards, and I darted out from his fall to bury my cleaver right into another man's shin. His leg came clean off, and I skidded by his planted foot as the rest of him tumbled forward. Moving with my momentum, I caught my heels in the edge of an elevated plank of wood, carried myself into a roll, and swung as I spun. I sliced through a breastplate and chainmail with such ease that his guts felt like cutting through butter. As his intestines unwound themselves upon the floor, I pivoted on my palm, and changed direction before the next man could bring his sword to where I would've been. I planted my foot into his face with the back swing, and when he lurched to the side, my cleaver was waiting for him. I split his face from eye to lip, dividing his nose grotesquely before I brought the other cleaver around the back to sever his spine. I rolled over his back as he went down, and brought both blades down on the trapezius of the stunned man behind him. His shoulders slumped, now disconnected, and I swung from the hooks I'd made of my knives, launched myself between his legs, and pitched him violently forward as I extracted my knives. I opened my legs just in time to avoid a spear that would've punctured my thighs. The spearhead imbedded in the wood, and I chopped the haft away as the man tried to yank it free, sending him flailing backward into his comrades. I used my cleavers as climbing hooks to ascend his body, then jumped over the top, cut one man's head clean off, and cleaved a jaw right from another's face. Dropping into a combat roll, I twirled to chop the knees out from three men, then pivoted forward, and launched myself at a fourth. He tried to catch me, but I'd removed his hands mid-flight, and when I landed in his embrace, his pumping stumps slid off my back. I returned the hug, imbedding both blades into his lats, and I ripped across to open his dorsal muscles for all to see. His gripping arms flopped uselessly, and I licked his stunned face before flipping over the top of him, and imbedding both knives into the top of the next man's skull.