Tyrian's rest was cut much shorter than expected. He was awakened before dawn the following morning by the sound of shouting from the tower watch points. "To arms!" a guard shouted. "The Imperial Army approaches!"
Both Tyrian and Cassie leapt out of bed and rushed into their clothes. Tyrian's mouth was dry, his pulse pounding hard. He almost couldn't breathe as they rushed the elevator down to the courtyard and then ran across to the closest tower. He took the steps three at a time, his feet barely touching the stone. "Where?" he demanded when he got to the top.
The guard handed over the telescope. "To the north," he said. His face was drawn and his eyes deeply alarmed. It wasn't fear for the Rebellion. It was fear for Lord Tyrian and what he was about to see.
Tyrian looked to the distance and his stomach rolled violently. There were twenty units slowly approaching, and all wore the colors of the High General. At this distance, even with the scope, he couldn't make out who rode at the front. But . . . he knew. "We have half an hour at most," he said, and his voice somehow stayed calm. "Gather the Lower Generals and Professor Matthias. I also want Ewan, Kyle, and Lane. I will meet them at the meeting room."
"Yes, sir!" The guard saluted and hurried down out of the tower. The entire city and castle was waking, soldier and civilian alike beginning to rally and prepare for war.
Tyrian's legs gave out and he sank down onto the ground. Cassie leapt forward and held onto him fiercely, her heart breaking. "Tyrian."
"Why?" His voice broke on the word as he pressed his face to her stomach. "Why, Cassie? Why is this happening? All I wanted . . . all I wanted was to stop the Emperor from destroying our country. Why did Blaine have to get involved?"
A soft lavender light filled the air and Tanelia walked out of it. Her eyes looked dark and sad. "I'm sorry, Tyrian," she said softly. "In the end, this may well be my fault." Her gaze lowered. "Blaine . . . is my twin sister. I am sure you had guessed from my memoirs."
"If Kyle can't blame me for what my mother did, then I can't blame you for your sister." His hands curled into fists at his side. He was only dimly aware of Cassie's presence as a glowing light inside that he clung onto with all his will. He wanted to scream that any of this had ever happened, but the screams remained locked inside. "She hates you for your eternity."
"And has sought for a million years to have her own. There is nothing good inside her, Tyrian. Too late, I saw that she was evil. She has . . . she has destroyed my happiness as well." Tanelia shook her head slightly. "It matters not what she has done to me. I knew, many years ago, that she would cross the path of the first Kaiten. And I can only say . . . I'm so sorry."
"No." The word was low and forceful. "Do not dare apologize for the evil of your sister. She does not even deserve to be called your kin." He looked up, and his green eyes blazed with a spirit that could not die. "There is nothing but good inside you, Tanelia. I can feel it. You have done everything you could to help me. You did not have to tell me the shame of your family, but you did." He got to his feet carefully. "She will never have a Pure Relic. Not mine, not anyone else's."
"I believe in you," she said simply. "I always have."
He very nearly asked her how the coming battle would play out, but he did not want to make her tell him the one thing he didn't want to hear if it was true. He would give everything he had, fight as hard as he could, and find the strength to accept whatever outcome would occur.
Tanelia took her leave, and Cassie held onto Tyrian. "I'm here," she vowed. "I'm not going anywhere."
"If you weren't here . . ." He didn't need to finish the thought. They both knew what not having her would mean for his sanity.
The Lower Generals, Kyle, Ewan, and Lane had assembled with Matthias and Cherry when Tyrian and Cassie walked in. Without preamble, Matthias said, "As soon as I heard, I had Shots run reconnaissance. High General Southerwind is riding at the front of his army. He commands twenty units, all of which are Special Forces. Two knights, Sir Janus and Sir Juniper, are also riding with General Southerwind. They are considered to be amongst the best of those under his command. They each sub-command ten of the twenty units."
"I've never met them," Tyrian said. "But I do know of them. They're roughly Laia's age. I remember when they joined my father. They were knighted young for extreme acts of bravery and heroism when confronting Foresalia."
"They are indeed formidable," Samantha agreed. "It does not surprise me that they would have come with General Southerwind. What surprises me is that he is even here like this." She shook her head. "Unless he is here to do what I did."
"It's not his style," he said very quietly. "He would not attack us unless he was intent on fighting. If he wanted to join us, there would be no farce. He would have simply shown up at the door and asked to be let in." He laughed, but it was self-mocking and made everyone wince. "Can't imagine where I get that from."
The doors opened and Hawke walked in. Her eyes glittered fiercely in her face. "Lord Tyrian," she said, "every Destined Star that is capable of field combat is joining you in this battle. We are gathering with the troops. All you have to do is tell us what you need us to do and who we are to follow. If you need us as unit leaders, we will do that too. You won't go into this alone."
Tyrian closed his eyes for a moment. "Thank you," he said softly. Their support meant nearly as much as Cassie's did. For the first time, he thought he truly understood why the Kaiten Star needed so many Destined Stars. His eyes opened and he looked at Kyle and Ewan. "You are in command of all sword based combatants. I leave the selection of troops and unit leaders to you. Samantha, I ask that you give them your aid."
"Done," Samantha said instantly.
The three hurried out, and Tyrian turned to Gordon. "You and Hawke will take command of ranged combat. Have Emma and Olan help you select the best archers." His gaze turned to Lane. "Have Verdure and Klint help you select our magical reserves. Rely also on Laia's skill if needed. Marian and Halkern are to have a full unit of Healers if at all possible. Doctor Kelan can ride with them."
"Consider it done." Lane hurried out of the room, his stomach sick with the knowledge of what occurred.
The other Lower Generals were given their orders as well, and Alex was chosen to personally select Tyrian's own troops. Yhalenia and Kotan were already assembling the two monk units, and the three former bandits would be working with them.
Matthias looked at Tyrian and said, "I will ride with you. Cherry will ride with Marian. All of us who can be on that field will be there, Lord Tyrian. I have already requested that Fay be readied for you so your unit can be mounted."
With a deep breath, Tyrian said, "There's nothing more to be done then. Let's get this over with."
The High General's army was vastly outnumbered by the total number of troops that the Liberation Army commanded. However, his troops were also much better trained than any except the Destined Stars. As such, Donald was not surprised to see thirty units emerge from the walls of the city and move forward into position. His heart felt heavy, and it had been ever since Blaine's vile order had come to him. Yet under the heaviness came incredible pride as he saw his son riding at the front of the Liberation Army. Tyrian had become a hero among soldiers, and he was every bit deserving of the mantle of Destiny's hero.
With a little smile, Donald touched his Voice Relic. "Hello, Tyrian."
"Hello, Father." Tyrian's voice was calm and unruffled, as it always seemed to be. Donald had always envied and admired his son's absolute serenity. "I admit," Tyrian said, "that I was expecting you sooner. Are you slowing down in your advanced age?"
"Well, being as I am apparently a grandfather now, I suppose I am entitled to my slower speed." He shifted his gaze to the black haired woman who rode beside Tyrian. "Master Cassie," he said, "I could not have asked for a better mate for my son. I find I can't say I am sorry I was not able to meet with you that first day. Watch out for my boy. He's too much like his old man."
Cassie's hand curled around Tyrian's wrist and held on as she sensed the inner shaking inside her lover. "If he is, then it's no wonder he is such an amazing man." She took a breath and urged, "General Southerwind, please. Lay down your arms. Join us. You know that we are not the enemy!"
"I can't." It was the simple truth. He had carefully planned every movement of this battle. He would not let Blaine win. This would be his final gift to his son. Everything was up to Tyrian now. He would save the Empire they loved. "I ask for a battle of skill."
Tyrian's brows lifted and he looked at Matthias. The strategist had a speculative look on his face. "A battle of skill," Matthias said slowly, "is a normal battle, but the intent is not to kill your enemy. Think of it as a unit sized duel. Everything is done the same way, but all soldiers know that they are to disarm, not kill. It matches range to range, mage to mage, and so on. I've never seen one done on this scale, but it is a surefire method of avoiding bloodshed."
"His troops are better trained," Tyrian said quietly. "Doesn't that swing the battle to his favor?"
"Under normal circumstances, I would say yes. But this is hardly normal, Lord Tyrian. I can't put my finger on it, but there is something about General Southerwind that has me on guard. There's something wrong. I can't determine why from this distance. It just feels . . . familiar." He nodded slightly. "General Southerwind," he said to the opposing leader, "we will accept your request. The engagement will be a battle of skill. But do not underestimate us."
"Ewan Grizmar," the black haired male riding beside Donald said, "I would ask that you match your sword against mine."
Ewan grinned. "Night, you up for smacking a knight around?"
"Not nearly as interesting as rogues, but I can be convinced," Night answered sassily.
The brunette on Donald's other side looked at Kyle. "Kyle Raitels, I would have you challenge me."
Kyle smiled. "Very well."
All other units matched up, and the extra ten units of Tyrian's stood by. If one of Tyrian's units was defeated, a unit of matching type could step in. There would be no calling strategy in this battle. The strategy was solely up to the soldiers on the field as they paired off one-by-one. Tyrian took a deep breath and said, "Let the engagement commence."
The battlefield became a cacophony of sound as the fights began. In some places, it was obvious that Tyrian's soldiers and unit leaders were stronger. In others, the favor was for Donald's side. The troops that Tyrian personally commanded pitted directly against the ones that Donald personally commanded. The unit leaders on each side met in the middle. Two lieutenants rode with Donald, and one looked at Matthias. "I yield without lifting a blade as you cannot enter combat."
Matthias inclined his head. "My thanks, lieutenant."
The other lieutenant smiled wryly at Cassie. "I am not so foolish as to engage a Tenth Class monk. I yield, Master Cassie."
Cassie nodded in acceptance, but her gaze remained solely on Tyrian. His face was calm, yet his fingers clenched so hard around the reins that his knuckles had gone white. They knew there was no way Donald would yield. The entire battle would end if either Tyrian or Donald was defeated.
Close up, Matthias felt more certain than ever that there was something wrong with Donald Southerwind. He still couldn't determine what it was, but he knew that the High General was not well. He glanced across the field and saw that Lane's unit stood idle after defeating its opponent. "Lord Lane," he said into his Voice Relic. "I require your knowledge."
Neither Donald nor Tyrian noticed. "Well," Tyrian said. "I suppose it would be foolish to ask for a surrender."
"I trained you better than that." Donald swung down off the back of his horse with the agility of a man half his age. He looked older than he had before, but he still moved like the warrior he was.
It was doubly painful for Tyrian as he dismounted and drew his staff. This close to his father, he did not feel the tug he felt when near a Destined Star. That left Donald's future as one empty slate. It was up to Tyrian to decide the outcome. There was no way for this to miraculously become right.
Donald drew his sword and swung it lightly through the air. "Let's see what you've learned over the last few months." Without waiting for a response, he lunged toward Tyrian on a shout.
This was no quick battle with an easy win. Father and son were almost equally skilled. Tyrian was more powerful magically, but he refused to use the Devourer. Even though they used different types of weapons, it made neither of them more or less lethal. Blood was drawn on both sides when the right strike managed to sneak past a guard.
Slowly, the rest of the battle ended around them. Enough of Tyrian's army had been victorious to be considered the winner, but it was no longer important. Ally and enemy stood side by side as they watched the duel that raged. No one liked what they witnessed. No matter who took a blow, everyone winced.
Tyrian suddenly seemed to take in a surge of extra strength from out of nowhere. He ducked under Donald's guard and slammed his staff into his stomach. The blow sent the older man flying to the dirt and he rolled several feet before stopping. Breathing hard, his eyes burning, Tyrian nearly shouted, "Yield, damn you!"
Donald didn't immediately get up, and when several seconds passed, Matthias said softly, "The engagement is over. Lord Tyrian is the victor."
There was no chance for anyone to cheer. Donald surged to his feet and went after Tyrian once more. A shout rose among the army as they realized Donald had broken the laws. Ewan and Kyle went for their swords but Lane ordered harshly, "Stand down!!"
The discontent flowed through both sides of the field, but no one moved. It was only Liang and Laia holding Cassie back that kept her from leaping forward.
Tyrian didn't notice. He had his hands full trying to fend off Donald. He didn't know what was wrong, what was happening. His father would never break the rules of engagement! It was as if he had deliberately forfeited his life. "Stand down!" he shouted.
Donald didn't respond with words, and his eyes looked fierce and determined. One particularly sharp swing of his sword cut clean through the middle of Tyrian's staff. He kicked the Kaiten in the stomach and sent him tumbling back across the ground. Without any obvious hesitation, he raised his sword and went in for the kill.
The deepest instincts inside Tyrian, the ones that made him survive in the harshest times, rose hotly. Encoded in his very soul was the indomitable spirit of a Kaiten Star, a spirit that above all else would always want to live. His hand closed around the closest half of his staff and he lunged upward just as Donald got close.
The severed end of the staff was a sharp as a blade. It slammed into Donald's stomach and went far enough through that it came out the back. The High General staggered past Tyrian as his sword fell to the ground. His legs gave out and he collapsed onto the dirt as blood began to flow.
Marian's scream of anguish ripped through the field and she tried to shove her way through. Marcus and Di found her and forced soldiers aside to let her run to where Tyrian knelt beside Donald. Liang and Cassie also ran as fast as they could to get to the scene.
Tyrian's face was white, his eyes so dark that the pupils disappeared. Dully, he said, "Why did you do that?" He didn't see Liang or Marian, was only dimly conscious of Cassie's presence. Something inside shook violently. "You forced me to do that. Why?"
Lane knelt beside Marian. "Blaine cursed you," he told Donald. "I could see it from across the field. That's why Matthias thought something was familiar about you. He recognized the way your lifeforce was being bled out. No matter what happened here, Blaine set you up to die."
Donald nodded slightly. There was almost no pain to be felt. There was nothing but relief that it was over. Blaine would not win. "I was going to leave," he admitted softly. "After Beelzebub. But she cursed me. I knew what she wanted. I won't let her have it."
Marcus pulled Marian into his arms and she buried her face against his shoulder as her entire body shook with her sobs. The other Lower Generals had come forward as well, and so had Janus and Juniper. "Why can't I heal him?" Marian wailed into Marcus' shoulder. "It's not in the critical zone! Not my spells, not even my raw magic—why?!"
Magicians and Healers became the magic they commanded. Marian's relics had changed her magic capacity to pure healing force, allowing her to use her raw capacity as another way to heal when her spells alone might not be enough. She had done it before; she and Halkern had both exhausted themselves by using up their capacities in such a way to heal Persephone's family. They could only use their magic within the range of the spells they had unlocked, but Marian had fully unlocked relics and a higher than average capacity. She should have been able to do something!
Lane slowly shook his head. "It's not just the wound he was dealt. His lifeforce is being recalled to Blaine. And there is a lot of life inside him. He was chosen well to be the father of a Kaiten Star. You can't heal lifeforce, Marian, I'm sorry." He looked at Tyrian. "You can stop this. You have to, Tyrian. You know you can't let Blaine have his life energy. You're not killing him. He was dead long before he ever stepped onto this field."
Tyrian's relic hand curled into a fist. "Bring Raven," he said evenly. "She deserves to meet her grandfather. Give me your cloak, Janus." He issued the order without hesitation.
Janus removed his cloak and spread it over Donald to hide the horrid wound. Even with the staff removed, it was a violent reminder of the task Tyrian had been forced to do. He and Juniper knelt side by side. They had been given specific orders, and having met Tyrian, they knew now why. Something told them that they, too, were destined to fight beside this man with the eyes of a hero. Neither could bear the sight of his suffering.
Ewan walked up with Raven in his arms and knelt to put her down. Donald focused on her, and he suddenly found a smile. "No wonder. No wonder Annareal loved her so. She's so much like you, Tyrian."
"Then she's just like her grandfather too." Tyrian took a deep breath. Time was running out. Even he could now feel the energy fleeing Donald's body. Already his legs and lower body were dead. There was no stopping what happened. "I love you," he said softly. "I'm proud to be your son."
"Hell, Tyrian." Donald closed his eyes. "I'm the one who's proud. There was never a day I wasn't proud of you." He grimaced as the numbness encountered his wound and the pain returned with a vengeance. He could now feel his body dying and the fleeing lifeforce was more painful than the wound itself.
"Hurry!" Lane urged Tyrian.
Tyrian's eyes closed and the runic circle opened around his body. The symbol of the Devourer appeared in the air over his head, visible to all who watched. He couldn't stand the idea of sending Donald to Hell, and he had done nothing to deserve Purgatory. His eyes opened suddenly and they had turned solid black. "Effervesce."
Ribbons of green and black power emerged from the symbol of the Devourer and flowed down to consume Donald. A bright glow emerged from his body and began to flow back up the ribbons to the symbol. When there was no more glow to be taken, the symbol and circle disappeared and the ribbons dissolved.
The High General was dead.
"He's smiling," Marian whispered.
Marcus held her tighter. "He's happy," he said roughly. "He died as a general. He gave his life for his people, just as every soldier who joins the army knows he or she might. There is no shame in that. There is no higher honor than dying for your country, or, for us, dying for our Kaiten."
Janus drew his cloak up over Donald's face. "Lord Tyrian," he started quietly, "Juniper and I were given orders contingent on General Southerwind's death. Those orders are to fight by your side. Please accept our vow as knights of the Empire to help you save our country and our people."
"Please also accept our dedication as Destined Stars," Juniper added. "We will fight by your side and give you our strength. If you need anything of us, it is yours." His voice broke and then steadied. He couldn't stand seeing Tyrian so quiet and pale. It was terrifyingly clear how close Tyrian walked to the edge of shattering.
One by one, then more, until it was a wave spreading across the field, soldiers began to kneel in respect for Donald and allegiance for Tyrian. Imperial and Liberation soldier alike, they were united as one. Tyrian slowly lifted his head as the wave spread and he watched as all fifty units on the field gave and re-gave their vow to fight under his flag.
It was too much all at once. Exhaustion came rushing in and he slumped over. He was almost pitifully grateful for the welcoming black of unconsciousness. Cassie caught him quickly and held him cradled in her arms. Tears slid slowly down her cheeks. "Tyrian." She buried her face in his hair and held on tight.
Quietly, Matthias said, "Prepare a hero's burial for General Southerwind. Sir Janus, Sir Juniper, I welcome you as a fellow Destined Star." He looked at Liang. "Can you carry Lord Tyrian?"
"I haven't tried since he was ten," Liang said. It seemed as if he had aged dramatically over the last few hours, with lines appearing at the corner of his eyes and mouth. "But I'm still a bit bigger than he is." It was just enough bigger that he was able to lift Tyrian from the ground to carry him on his back toward the castle. Cassie went with him, and Ewan picked up Raven to follow.
The Lower Generals, minus Marcus, took charge of the new twenty units. Marcus took Marian back to her room and stayed by her side as she suffered through a rage of grief that was both hers and her cousin's. She knew he could not cry, and so she cried for him as well. Why was Destiny so bitterly unfair to a man as wonderful as Tyrian?
The day passed quietly. Tyrian remained asleep while Cassie and Raven stayed near his side. Liang, with Serentia and Tavi's support, selected a space inside the city that would be the perfect place for Donald to be buried. Tavi then, with Yumi, Kami, and Mikey's help, picked out the prettiest stones they could find to be used as a grave marker.
It was several days before Tyrian finally awoke, and when he did, he woke to a pain that was more emotional than physical. It was not even dawn, if the sounds from outside were a clue, and he couldn't move his left arm since both Raven and Cassie were lying on it. He didn't mind. Their presence was welcome and comforting.
After a few minutes, he carefully extracted his arm and got out of bed. It was cold on the balcony since he only wore pajama pants, but he didn't care. He leaned on the rail and looked up at the stars. His burned as steadily as ever, and he could see how the others clustered much closer than usual as if to protect him.
He heard a sound behind him and said softly, "If it is the last thing I ever do, I will personally introduce Blaine to the Devourer Relic. She wants it so badly, I'll be glad to demonstrate its powers."
Cassie stepped up beside him and covered his hand on the rail. Even before he had awakened, she had sensed that the war was no longer about the Rebellion. It had become very personal for Tyrian. "I think if anyone deserves to be devoured," she concurred quietly, "then it would be her. I believe in an eye for an eye, but Laia put it better. 'Let the punishment fit the crime.'"
His fingers tightened on the rail. "A part of me just wants to go straight to Trinan and storm the castle. But I know I can't." He turned to look at her, and the natural intensity inside him seemed to roll off him in waves. "I will not lose. I am going to find my Stars, I'm going to end this war, and I'm going to kill Blaine. She will die by my hand."
"Good." She softly rubbed her relic hand over his with the intent to soothe rather than seduce. "That third spell in the Devourer. It was somehow beautiful to see. You called it Effervesce. Do you know what it means?"
"No."
"According to Zinfandel, to effervesce is to be reborn. While you can say that the spell is as deadly as the rest, how it does it is something else entirely. A mercy killing, perhaps, is a way to view it."
"It's little comfort, but it is some." He let out a long breath. "I've almost never used my spells except for the first time I've gained them; I just use raw magic. I don't think I ever will use them commonly. It needs to be an extreme situation for me to feel justified."
"There's nothing wrong with that, Tyrian." She ducked under his arm and wrapped her own around his waist. "You're a sorcerer, not a Thaumoturge. Same as me. If you were a Thaumoturge, you'd have a different Pure Relic entirely, and a different burden to bear."
He turned and held her closer. His hands skimmed over her back, enjoying the tactile feel of her silk robe and the warm skin beneath. Blaine was slowly taking away the people he loved, but he would never let her lay a hand on any of those that were left.
In a similar vein, Cassie was thinking of how terribly Blaine wanted Tyrian dead. She would stoop to anything to get him and his relic. Nowhere except the castle would ever be safe, not as long as that psychopath was still around. "I will never let her touch you," she vowed softly. "I swear I will die first."
He didn't bother to point out that if she was gone, then he had no reason to continue. He needed that fierce defense. He needed to know she was there to protect him. There were so many other things to think of that his own safety hovered low on the list.
He shivered suddenly and she smiled. "Inside with you." She caught his hand and drew him back into the warmth of the tower room. She shut the balcony doors and curtains and then caught her breath as his hands curled around her waist. The magic in his skin burned and tingled with intent. "Raven's asleep in our bed," she said breathlessly. "You wouldn't dare seduce me with our daughter in the room."
"You'll just have to be very quiet." He pressed his lips to the curve of her neck and tasted her skin. "She won't wake up."
"What if she does?" The protest was getting weaker as his hands and lips set fire to her body. She barely caught a moan as his hands slid up to cup her breasts. "Tyrian."
He lowered her slowly to the floor, needing the life she offered freely. He found salvation in her arms, and he needed it more than air. "She won't wake up," he said huskily as he unwrapped the robe.
Much to her mother's relief, Raven did indeed remain peacefully asleep until well after dawn. By the time she did stir, Tyrian and Cassie were dressed and preparing to go downstairs to meet with the others. She peeked around the corner to watch them put their shoes on and then asked, "Daddy?"
"I'm alright, honey." Tyrian picked her up and rubbed his cheek over her hair. "I'll be fine now. Do you want to come with us?" When she nodded firmly, he put her on her feet. "Then scoot back to your room and get dressed."
"Okay!" A thought occurred to her and she frowned thoughtfully. "Was there a funny noise last night?"
Cassie felt her cheeks heat. "I didn't notice anything."
"Oh. Okay." Raven hurried out of the tower and hopped into the elevator, unconcerned with strange noises since her parents hadn't heard them.
Tyrian's grin looked more than a little wicked as he curled his hand around the back of Cassie's neck. He kissed her hard and hungry and then murmured against her lips, "I told you to be quiet."
"Oh shut up." Despite herself, she found herself smiling. He had a terrible devilish streak, but she wouldn't have changed him at all.
©Stacy J. Garrett. Do not reprint or redistribute without permission.
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