The Last Battle: Part 5, Draft 1

This took a while. The first half was an absolute pain to write; two very lengthy stops before I got it done. But it's done now and the second half actually flowed pretty decently. I did take Brogan's name and a few of his character traits from Brogal in "Sea of Unicorns", mostly out of laziness. All names are subject to change, except probably Rayna's.

I don't know when I'll be getting to the next segment. It's tough when I feel like I'm working my way through stuff that's tedious to write in order to get to what I do find exciting. I have been toying with the idea of just writing the next part of Apex 1, but I feel like that's going to reveal too much of what I haven't written yet. Likely you can guess most of what's happening in Apex 1 by now, but there's still a few details I want to hold onto for now.

So how do you think it's going? How do you like the new characters? I'm a little worried that because I wrote the first big scene before anything else, you, dear reader, may not feel particularly attached to Rayna knowing that she's going to die.

Any thoughts? Please?


"Lady Kataya!"

Kata turned around to see who was calling to her so formally. She smiled as she caught sight of the young squire turned knight coming towards her. Kata pressed her fist against her palm in salute. She seldom did this for fellow knights who weren't of a higher rank, but she knew the newest knights were eager to be acknowledged like this.

"Lady Rayna," Kata replied.

Rayna's face lit up and she slumped forward as if Kata had just taken something very heavy from her.

"Finally!" she said. "Everyone else I talked to today called me 'Princess' until I reminded them."

Kata motioned to the seat next to her and Cyra's only child took it. Like most of the newly dubbed knights, Rayna was still wearing her ceremonial garments. These were intended only for special occasions and were of much finer material than the knight's casual attire. Rayna's family crest - the famous white dragon on a blue field - was displayed on the chest.

"I'd nearly forgotten that you would be in the ceremony today," Kata mentioned. It was true. Kata had been quite caught up in preparations for the Great Feast. And it was hard to believe that Rayna was already seventeen. Kata wondered if Cyra was just as surprised by the swift passage of time.

"Your mother must be proud," she added, searching for some hint at Cyra's mood.

Rayna shrugged. "I guess so. She didn't say anything and she left right after the ceremony."

"That's hoe she is at the ceremony." Kata leaned back casually. "She probably didn't want to look like she was treating you any different in front of the other knights. I'm sure she'll let you know how she feels later."

Rayna just nodded in response, but she did look a little more at ease.

"So who are you traveling with?" asked Kata.

"Lady Micanna and Sir Davran. Do you know them?"

"Ah, Dav!" Kata grinned. "He and I were dubbed the same year and we traveled together a couple times. He's about the finest tracker I ever knew and just amazing with a bow and arrow. Could just about take an apple off a tree without hitting a single leaf. Oh, and he's just as good with a story. Ask him to tell you about the helmet and the merchant sometime."

"What about Lady Micanna?"

Kata leaned forward and rubbed her chin with one finger.

"I've never known Micanna particularly well, but of course I know of her. You know she fought in the Independence War?"

"She did?" Rayna looked genuinely incredulous.

"She did. There weren't any age restrictions on fighters back then. Your mother was pretty young herself, so there wasn't much she could do to keep anyone who could hold there own from joining up. Micanna couldn't have been much more than fourteen. She's seen more battles than most. Probably could be a general by now, but I hear she prefers fighting to strategizing. People say she's quiet, not likely to talk about much but the mission at hand. But she's good and I'm sure you'll learn a lot from her."

Kata and Rayna sat in silence for a while. Kata was hoping she hadn't killed the young knight's enthusiasm too soon. Still, Rayna had to understand that being a knight was not easy. Even in her first months, she could well see a border skirmish, or worse even. Better she be a little less excited than unprepared for the work and learning ahead.

Rayna turned as several people called her name. A group of young knights was walking by the table, smiling and waving. Rayna waved back and started to get up. Halfway through leaving her seat, she turned back to Kata apologetically.

"Go ahead." Kata waved her on. "You may not run into them again for a while."

Rayna grinned, saluted the other knight, and ran off to join her friends.

"Feel like an old veteran yet?"

Kata whirled around to hug the stocky dwarf who had snuck up behind her. Brogan laughed, pushing Kata to arm's length to look at her like a proud parent.

"I didn't even know you were back," Kata exclaimed. "How come I haven't seen you at all?"

"Just arrived a few days ago," answered Brogan. "I spent most of the winter with the family and I know how crazy this place is right before Sending. So I've been at the inn. But I couldn't miss paying you a visit, now could I?"

"Of course not." Kata slid over as Brogan pulled himself up onto the bench beside her. He waved a server over to request a drink, then looked out into the crowds at the group of young knights making their way to the dunking booth.

"So," he said quietly. "Cyra's girl's a knight now."

Kata nodded. "I saw Cyra just a few days ago and she didn't say a word about it."

"I'd guess she's not ready to," Brogan replied. "Doubt the girl's been very far from home for man than a few days before now. The queen has some hard times coming, getting used to her daughter being gone."

Kata hadn't really though of this. It was so easy to get caught up in the excitement of the young knights, especially with the ceremony and the feast. But every Sending meant someone was being left behind. Cyra had certainly seen enough of this, but was she ready to go through it herself?

"Still, I think it will be good for Rayna." Kata looked in the direction that Rayna and her friends had gone, but they were no longer in sight.

"Oh aye," Brogan agreed. "Already has been, likely. She gets to be with people around her age. And it'll be good for her to get out and see what the world's like."

Brogan's drink arrived. He took a long swig and wiped at his beard and mustache with his arm.

"And if she does well enough," he added. "and starts making a name of her own, it might take care of all those questions."

The questions were those surrounding Rayna's parentage. Cyra had never been married, as far as anyone knew. There were rumors of lovers lost to the battlefield, but none had anything more than hearsay to back them up. Of greater to concern to anyone who troubled themselves with the question of Rayna's heritage was the lack of resemblance between mother and daughter. Cyra was small and pale skinned with near white hair. Rayna had dark hair with a tanned complexion, and she'd been taller than her mother for years. That, added to the fact that Rayna's age meant Cyra would have been a rather young mother, had given birth to countless tales. Rayna was said to be a war orphan, a creation of magic, the legitimate daughter of a queen who had turned pale from various traumas, and everything in between. Neither Rayna nor her mother ever said a word about the circumstances of Rayna's birth, even to close friends. But Kata knew it pained both women to see the knowing looks and hear the whispers of rumors every time Rayna did anything that marked her as the slightest bit different from her mother.

"She been assigned with Micanna and Davran," Kata noted. "I'm sure they'll teach her well. Though not as well as you would, of course."

"They'll do fine," Brogan said from behind his mug. "I did well enough by you, but I can't be mentor for everyone. 'sides, I think I'm getting too old for it."

Kata raised an eyebrow at the dwarf. He kept a straight face for about ten seconds before he burst out laughing."

"Ah, you got me," he admitted. "Got two of the little runts following me around once we set off. Matter of fact, I'd better go see if I can find them."

"Should I tell them you don't really go mad if anyone calls you short?"

"I'd appreciate it if you didn't."

"You started that rumor yourself, didn't you?"

Brogan looked at Kata with innocent eyes as he got up from the bench. She scowled, trying hard to keep from smiling.

"You know I spent almost a season terrified that I'd slip up and say 'short', even if it wasn't about you."

"It was good for you," Brogan grinned mischievously. "Taught you to think before you said something."

"Get out of here!" Kata raised her hand as if she meant to hit Brogan. He giggled and ran off, making sure to grab his drink as he did.

Kata chuckled as she watched Brogan leave. Seeing him was always fun. It was hard to even remember how nervous and frightened she'd been around him at first. Brogan had seemed a gruff and impatient mentor. It was a long time before he showed her his easy-going, humorous side. One of her fondest memories was meeting him by chance in a small town and joined him for a meal at the inn. Talking with him, she had realized for the first time that Brogan now saw her as an equal and a friend.

She hoped Rayna fared as well with her two mentors.

The Last Battle: Part 4, Draft 1

Up until now, I've been posting the parts as full scenes. But this one is on the long side, so I'll divide it into at least two so you'll have something to read sooner.

The Great Feast finally comes and Kata actually gets to relax and enjoy herself. This part mostly sets the stage; Part 5 will introduce two characters. One is completely new, one you've met before, though not if you're going chronologically.

"Everything is completely ready for tomorrow," said Elgon, the knight in charge of organizing the preparations for the Great Feast, the night before it was to happen. He said this every year. It was never true.

The next day, as the squires were at last becoming full fledged knights, the knights organizing the Great Feast were scrambling to fix everything that had gone wrong. A tent had fallen over during the night. One of the main streets leading to the feast grounds didn't have proper lighting. One of the pie recipes, accounting for roughly 70 pies, hadn't come out to the master chef's standards. The tumbler who was second from the right in the base of the human pyramid needed medication for the dizzy spells he was having. And everyone, from the captain of the castle guards to the barker for the dunking booth to the curious tourist, had last minute questions.

As she had on the days before, Kata happily threw herself into the work. She pounded the tent stakes back into more solid ground and made sure the ropes were well secured. She rushed ingredients for the replacement pies into the kitchens. She escorted the healers to where the ailing tumbler was staying. She answered questions ranging from simple directions to running through the whole schedule of events for the night.

And somehow, it all came together, as it did every year. By sunset, the great hall and castle grounds were a mass of people, with still more arriving all the time. Much of the entertainment was already in full swing. The juggler and stilt-walkers and stilt-walking jugglers were moving through the crowds, often with a small devoted audience trailing behind them. The musicians were mostly warming up. They would be playing once the actual feast began. The attractions and merchant's booths were set up, though they did most of their business after the food had been served.

When the incoming crowds had thinned to infrequent groups of a few people, the castle's bell rang three times to call everyone to the banquet tables. Kata took her seat with the other knights who had been on the Feast organizing committee. Elgon gave a brief speech outlining the trials and triumphs of putting this year's feast together as the drinks were brought out. Enthusiastic toasts were made all around and the whole table needed refills by the time to the food was served.

As many people did on the day of the feast, Kata had purposefully eaten very little. Course after course of delicious roasts, soups, salads, breads, and of course, pies came one after the other and everyone wanted to try nearly everything. The feast organizers' table seemed to get special attention, possibly due to how well they'd done in keeping the kitchen stocked for the event. No other tables were ignored, but a call for more bread or another ale from the organizers' table always seemed to get answered first.

After her third slice of pie, Kata decided that she needed to get up for a walk. The few knights left at the table, gave her a final congratulations on her hard work, then went back to singing along with the musicians in a lively round.

By now the moon was out and the numerous torches Kata and her friends had set up were blazing away. Many people were leaving the banquet tables and the booths around the castle grounds were in full swing. Some were selling scarves, feathers, and various small trinkets as favors to give to a departing knight. Some sold jewelry and other little gifts that young knights typically gave to their sweethearts before the Sending. There were wooden swords and shields, toy knights, the dunking booth, a puppet show, all kinds of treats from various parts of the kingdom for anyone who actually had room for more food, and a variety of other attractions. The fire eaters were attracting a large crowd right now, tossing sticks lit at both ends high into the air before swallowing the flames..

Kata took a seat at an abandoned table near the fire eaters' stage. She watched the crowds move around, marveling as she did every year at the variety of people who came out for the Great Feast. Kata especially liked watching the children. Some, mostly the ones who were just old enough to enjoy all the attractions, just ran around happily, burning through whatever spending money they had been given. Those who had a little more idea of what the feast was for gravitated toward the wooden swords and shields and staged play battles, usually supervised by a helpful knight to make sure no one got hurt. The young pages watched the squires with longing, just the way the squires looked at the new knights who had completed the initiation ceremony that day. Then there were the children who weren't interested in anything but being with their parents and the ones who were being taken back home in tears. Most people wouldn't have mentioned them in the same breath, but Kata saw them as the two experiences knights' families went through. Some knights remained at the castle until the Sending put them on assignment in their hometowns. Often, the families of these knights would make the trip to the capitol for the Great Feast. After the Sending, the knights and their families would return home together. On the other hand, some knights had family in the capitol. When the Sending came, they would be going far away for a long time. There were always some children who connected the Great Feast, fun as it was, with Mommy or Daddy going away and couldn't stay long without crying.

The Last Battle: Part 3, Draft 1

Yeesh, this took a while. This segment was supposed to be a lot shorter and the post was going to include the feast itself, but obviously that didn't happen. Still, there's some nice stuff in here and a better hint at Kata and Santok's relationship. I should probably mention that the fortress and Santok's castle in Apex 1 are the same thing. I decided this would make more sense in light of the fact that Keltaria is still very much in a defensive stance (to say the least). Plus, I remembered that where Santok is now shouldn't really be his home. Calling his current residence the fortress should make the distinction easier. I'll change the wording in Apex 1 when I decide to edit it.

As usual, comments welcome


The next few days were busy ones, which was exactly what Kata wanted. Waiting around the castle and counting the days until the sending of the knights would have been maddening. That was part of why there were so many events held in the days leading up to the sending ceremony. Chief among them were the initiation of the squires into knighthood and the great feast held the following night. The squires' initiation ceremony was an almost secretive affair, which was supposedly meant to scare younger squires about what they'd be going through. Cyra had repeatedly said that the real reason was to keep the squires from suffering any more anxiety than they already did as they prepared for knighthood, but the myth persisted. Everyone, however, was welcome at the feast. It was a chance for the newest knights to be accepted by the others, for the knights to have a celebration with their families before leaving, and for everyone to send the knights off with a big party before sending them off more ceremoniously later on.

Though she could have easily gained an invitation to the initiation ceremony, Kata was helping with the feast preparations this year. The fun of the feast seemed more in keeping with her mood than the solemn tone of the initiation. The castle's great hall needed cleaning after the long winter. Tables and decorations had to be put up inside and out. Torches needed to be arranged for outside, as the festivities always went long into the night. More food came into the kitchens that the cooks alone could possibly keep track of. Entertainers from around the kingdom required sleeping quarters. And citizens of the capitol who were volunteering to help needed to be organized.

It was always a lot of work, but Kata had never enjoyed it as much before. She couldn't remember being this excited since her own days as a squire about to become a knight. Just strolling around the castle and counting the days would have been unbearable. Checking the stability of a torch or trying to figure out where 50 bags of flour had disappeared to gave her something immediate to focus on. There were some knights who felt that work like this was beneath them. Kata had never really felt this way and now she was extremely grateful for all the near chaos of preparations.

Still, there were the nights. When the sun had long gone down and the supervisors insisted that she get some sleep, Kata reluctantly returned to the knights' quarters for her nightly battle with wakefulness. The day's work might have seemed tiring, but her training as a knight had prepared her for much worse. One of Kata's teachers when she had been a squire had advised his pupils to take sleep where they could find it, as they'd never know when they'd be able to rest again. Kata was a good student, but this was one skill she had never mastered. Kata would lie awake for long hours, unable to quiet her excited mind. Rationally, she knew that sleep would bring the next day faster, but her giddy joy would not obey. It only grew worse as the day of the initiation and great feast grew nearer and Kata was becoming worried that when the sending came at last, she'd be too exhausted to leave.

The night before the feast finally came and Kata was sure she wouldn't sleep for a moment. She tried her hardest to relax her mind with controlled breathing and soothing thoughts. But still, her thoughts wandered. They pulled forth memories of her past visits to Santok, lingering over every detail of the ride out to the borders, the towering rough stone fortress, and Santok himself. It was maddening. Again, Kata though of her last night as a squire. Was this worse? No, this was joyful anticipation, no matter how maddening it was. The squires had excitement mixed with worry. Some had no idea what really awaited them in the morning. Some feared they weren't ready for the responsibilities of knighthood. Still others feared they had made a mistake and that knighthood wasn't what they wanted at all. Kata could remember that creeping nervousness and her sincere wish that she could somehow skip right to the great feast. What had she done that night to calm her fears?

Kata got out of bed, quietly so she wouldn't wake anyone else. She threw on enough clothes to be presentable and snuck out the side door of the knights' quarters. The guards on night watch nodded as she passed them and headed out to the stables. The stable guards were equally uninterested in why she was there. Kata hurried along to Tally's stall.

Tally gave a welcoming snort as Kata opened his stall. He had been with her since her last year as a squire and Kata had known no better horse. She patted him as an apology for getting him up so late, though he didn't seem soothed until she offered him a carrot. She got his tack on him as quickly as possible. Kata jumped into Tally's saddle, took hold of the reins and they were ready. Tally easily found his way out of the stables without guidance. Once they were outside, Kata steered him to the back of the castle. Once they passed the fencing grounds and the archery field, there was nothing but wide open space. Kata gave Tally three clicks of her tongue and a pat on the neck. Neighing happily, he broke into a full gallop.

On that final night in the squire's barracks, Kata had done much the same, though being a squire had required more sneaking around. Tally didn't know her as well then and had needed more urging to get up to full speed and more steering once her reached it. Now, with a horse she could trust completely and without the fear of being caught up after hours, a fast ride by moonlight was an even better way for Kata to clear her head. The cool air of the spring night flew by as she and Tally raced along. The castle grew slowly smaller, though it was too big and towering to escape completely. It was as if all the nervousness and unsettling anticipation Kata had felt was left far behind, unable to keep up with her swift footed steed.

Kata took a deep breath as the wind rushed into her face. She remembered the last time she had gone on a night ride like this. Of course, it had been with Santok, but the memory was only good now. She wasn't trying to sleep so thinking so Santok couldn't keep her from it. She had told him in the late afternoon how she loved riding at night, how calming and freeing it felt. Santok had never tried it. He never rode for pleasure at all, night or day. So she convinced him to try it with her that night. They rode through the woods at an easy pace, she on Tally and he on his enormous charger Granak, searching for an open field. Almost as soon as they found it, Tally was off, knowing Kata well enough to guess what she had in mind. At first Kata thought that Santok wasn't going to try it, that he'd just stay where he was and watch her. But then he was at her side. It took a while for both him and Granak to get comfortable with just going as fast as possible to no destination. But before long, he had begun to enjoy himself. He would turn sharply or bolt out towards distant hills, daring Kata to follow him. They raced each other, with no course, finish, or determining of the winner in mind. At last, the horses began to slow and Kata and Santok decided to let them rest. Santok led them to a small quiet lake where they dismounted. The horses were free to drink and graze while Santok and Kata laughed from exhilaration as they caught their breath. They stayed at the lake for a long time, not reaching the fortress again until just before dawn.

Almost as soon as she though that she should head back, Tally was turning back towards the stables. He slowed his pace and they reached the stables at an easy trot. Kata got him back to his stall and out of his gear. She rubbed him down, gave him a last pat, and left the stables. Soon she was back in bed. Sleep came easily now, even as she thought of taking Santok out riding again.

The Last Battle: Part 2, Draft 1

Two updates in one day? The gears must be really greased tonight! Not much to say about this one, though some questions from the first part I wrote should be getting answered. I did a little edit to Part 1 because I decided to change something when I got to Part 2. See if you can spot it

By Cyra's request, the receiving chambers were divided in two. One room was the formal room, typical of the receiving chambers of any castle. The walls were decorated with ornate tapestries of historical events and shields in honor of the kingdom's greatest heroes. Tall, freestanding candlelabras evenly spaced near the walls provided light. A royal blue carpet lead up to the throne, which was decorated with carvings of dragons. Cyra's own coat of arms hung behind the throne. There were chairs with velvet cushions and deep mahogany tables to the sides which could be moved to sit in front of the throne if the occasion required it. This was the room Cyra used for receiving diplomats, nobles from other kingdoms, or local leaders from her own land. It was for business of state and reflected that.

The other half of the receiving chambers was intended for meetings that didn't call for such formality. It was much smaller and had three large windows looking out on the gardens. A cushioned window seat ran along the bottom of the windows so guests could sit and enjoy the view. At the room's center was a low table surrounded by comfortable chairs. A small collection of books was housed in a shelf on the southern wall. The northern wall was mostly devoted to a painting of dragons in flight. A few dignitaries who Cyra was particularly friendly with had been invited into this receiving room. But mostly, it was used for meetings with friends and other people who weren't expecting all the pomp and ceremony that usually surrounds a queen. It was in this room that Cyra sat waiting for Kataya to arrive.

Three brisk knocks at the door announced that Cyra's guest was here.

"Come in," Cyra replied.

Kataya entered the room slowly. She was dressed in the relaxed clothing knights typically wore when staying at the castle between assignments. Only the crests on the shoulders identified her rank. Cyra noticed that her chestnut hair had grown long over the winter. She would likely have it cut or tied back upon leaving the castle. Kataya looked a little nervous, which was unusual but not unexpected, given what she was asking for.

"Your Majesty," Lady Kataya said in greeting, dropping on one knee and striking her palm.

"Hello, Kata." Cyra smiled and Kata seemed a little more at ease. Cyra motioned for her friend to sit in the chair facing her. As Kata got herself settled, Cyra reached for a tea kettle that had been brought up from the kitchens earlier.

"Tea?" she offered. Kata declined and Cyra poured herself a cup.

"You wanted to speak with me about my request?" Kata prompted gently once Cyra had taken a sip of her tea.

"I did," she answered, setting the teacup back on its saucer. "I wanted to talk with you before I go about approving it."

Kata seemed happy, but still a little worried. Cyra tilted her head, waiting for a reply.

"You do realize," Kata began slowly, "what I'm asking for?"

"Of course." Cyra took another sip of her tea. "You're asking me for permission to cross the Keltarian border to ensure our own is secure."

"And," she continued, just as Kata was looking even more worried, "you're asking for my tacit permission to go and spend time with Santok."

Kata let out a sigh of relief and Cyra grinned at her.

"I'm not completely oblivious, you know," the queen said.

"Sometimes..." Kata shrugged and the two women laughed.

"I just wanted to be sure you knew what you were agreeing to," Kata said. "I didn't want to think I was deceiving you, though I guess that's not very likely."

Cyra shook her head and finished the last of her tea.

"I've known for a while what was happening between the two of you," she said, letting her eyes wander to the windows. "I've given it much thought and watched you pretty carefully too. And from that, this could only benefit everyone."

She turned to face Kata again, her eyes firmly meeting those of her friend.

"I don't want you to think I'm taking this lightly though. The fact that you are my friend went into my decision, but not as much as the fact that you are one of my best knights and you have never disappointed me. Though I don't believe right now that Santok is using you, I'm confident that you're strong enough to keep him from doing so if he ever tries."

Kata nodded. She clearly wasn't taking this lightly either.

"I want to believe that your friendship with Santok will lead to and end to all this fighting," Cyra continued. "I know that's a lot to ask and I'm not expecting you to accomplish that anytime soon. But I want you to remember that you are always a knight of this kingdom and I expect you to act like one. I know this may be difficult, given the situation you'll be in. But I trust your judgment and I know you'll do the right thing."

Kata was beaming now, and a little flushed from the compliments.

"Thank you," she said softly. Cyra smiled.

"Now," she said, rising to her feet, "you have some packing to see to and I imagine you'll be helping with the feast preparations as well. So I won't take up any more of your time."

Kata grinned and got up as well. "I'll see you at the sending then?"

Cyra nodded. "If not sooner."

The Last Battle: Part 1, Draft 1

I'm forcing myself to actually write the beginning, so some sense might be made of the story. Since you've now read the first climax, you may well be able to guess at a few things. Anyway, this wasn't as hard to write as I though it would be. Let me know what you think.

It was spring. By date it had been so for a few days already, but now it was really spring. The sky was a perfect clear blue dotted with soft white clouds that wouldn't even consider threatening to rain. The green grasses danced in the light breeze, rejoicing in the arrival of warmer weather. Soon the farmers would be starting the year's work and the dragons would be flying again.

Cyra sat on the railing along one of the castle's covered walkways. She breathe deeply as the gentle breeze carried scents of blossoming plant life and rich soil up to her. The local stories claimed that Cyra's mood affected the weather of her homeland, so deeply bound was she to it. But Cyra herself felt the opposite was true. Even the busiest winter felt like a long slumber or a restless wait for something else to come. Spring was coming awake again, thawing out, calling everything back to life. It was a big part of why Cyra held the sending of the knights in spring. They were all energy and eagerness when the spring came. It was a perfect time for new beginnings.

"Your Majesty!"

Cyra sighed and reluctantly came down. Cinnet was rushing down the hallway to her, scrolls and quill clutched tightly in one hand. He did not look happy, though Cinnet seldom did. If he brought anything to Cyra's attention, it was usually something bad or tedious. Cyra wasn't in the mood for either.

"Yes, Cinnet?" she answered, trying not to sound exasperated before they had even begun the matter.

"Your Majesty." Cinnet bowed quickly and unfurled the scroll. He almost certainly knew what it said already, but he liked to look more official.

"Your Majesty, I have here a request here from Lady Kataya of Renair Hohlt. She is seeking your special leave for cross border patrolling on the border with Keltaria." Cinnet released the bottom of the scroll which promptly curled back to its original shape. He fixed an expectant look on Cyra, who was now in a better mood once again.

"Tell Kata that...." Cinnet cut her off with a roll of his eyes. Cyra sighed. Cinnet hated it when she used less formal names when they were discussing official business.

"Inform Lady Kataya of Renair Hohlt," Cyra said laboriously, "that I wish to meet with her in my receiving chambers as soon as possible."

Cinnet smiled as he finished jotting this down. "You will be declining her request?"

"No. I just want to speak with her before I approve it."

Cinnet became flustered again. "Your Majesty, I beg your pardon but this is highly..."

He seemed so upset that Cyra looked at him with genuine concern. Cinnet sighed, rubbing his forehead with his free hand.

"Your Majesty," he said quietly, "I know you're not a foolish person. You know that we're still fighting Keltaria and you know what Lady Kataya will be doing if you give her leave to cross the border. Under the circumstances...I am sorry, Your Majesty, but allowing this seems foolhardy."

Cyra smiled gently. Cinnet was overly formal, but he was honest and she valued that greatly. Most people wouldn't have voiced an objection to her.

"I know where she wants to go," she responded, her tone softening. "And I know there is a danger in allowing her to do it. But we wouldn't have held our land for as long as we have if we didn't believe that diplomacy can work. And right now, Lady Kataya is the only one who can get past the front gate. If Santok has come to think of her as a person he cares for and not just another enemy soldier, maybe she can convince him to think the same way about others, even me. Maybe we can end this fighting without any more battles, without any more dying."

Cinnet was silent for a while.

"You're certain," he began cautiously. "that it won't go the other way around? That he won't turn her against you?"

"I'm certain." Cyra showed no sign of being offended by Cinnet's suggestion. "If that was going to happen, it would have long ago. Kataya's strong and she's not going to disappoint me."

Cinnet made a few final notes on his scroll.

"I will inform Lady Kataya of your wishes, so I suggest you be waiting for her in the receiving chambers," he said. He bowed and left to seek out Lady Kataya. Cyra took one last look at the spring morning, then started in the direction of the receiving chambers.

The Last Battle: Apex 1, Part 1, Draft 1

Like most story blogs I've read, it seems this one will have multiple stories going on at once. I'm not completely sure what happens next in "Sea of Unicorns." The only ideas I have seem boring, and if I think they are, I doubt you'll find them much fun, dear reader. So I'm putting it on hold until I come up with something or people start saying they really want to see it back. (Semi-shameless fishing for compliments.)

So what's this you're about to read? Well, talk about something I need to get off my chest. I think this story is about 10 years old and the roots of it are even older. Since its inception, I've tried several times to write it, with little to no success. I'm starting in the middle on this one. The title is more than likely temporary, as is the name of Santok's native tongue. "Apex 1" refers to the fact that this is the first of two major events in the story, and the fact that I don't know how many part I'll write before or after. Santok is a minotaur, by the way, which should help you visualize him more clearly and but some of his thoughts into context.

It gets a little violent partway in, so be forewarned.

Santok knew well before he saw her that Cyra had arrived. His troops were noisy, following her through the hallways with shrieks and jeers. Were it anyone else who he wished to make it to his throne room unharmed, he would have gone out there himself to make certain nothing happened. But with Cyra, he did not need to be concerned. Even if she had heeded his request, they would not touch her, between their fear of her and their fear of him. The din continued, growing closer as the subject of his guards' taunts drew nearer to Santok's door. Then suddenly, it faded, until the hallway outside was silent. They were brave enough in the hallways, but they were not about to risk his wrath if he thought their teasing went too far.

The enormous door slowly began to open. Santok himself could open it with relative ease, but most humans couldn't budge it and needed his guards to open it for them. Cyra however, pushed one of the heavy doors open without aid. Santok regarded this without the slightest change of expression. He expected no less on the Dragon's first time in his castle.

Santok realized that he had not actually seen Cyra in a very long time. In most instances when their paths crossed, their blades crossed as well. His impressions of her were mostly blurred flashes intermingled with blazing light reflected off that hated sword. Santok was quite certain he had never seen Cyra this close before when he wasn't trying to at least put a sizable crack in her armor.

Cyra was smaller than he'd expected. This was his assessment of most humans, but she seemed short, even for a human. There was still no doubt that she was strong; even with her armor on she was visibly muscular. The armor he had seen before, decorated with various patterns and figures of dragons, but still quite effective. She had on a deep blue cape which Santok hadn't seen before. Likely she didn't wear it into large battles where it might hinder her movement. She was pale skinned with near white hair. No one seemed to know if this was how she had always looked or the result of some unthinkable horror she had suffered in the past. Her face was grim as she finished pushing the door to the point where it would allow her through. Showing no fatigue from the effort, she strode up the lengthy carpet toward Santok's throne. Her anger did not bother Santok in the least. Seeing the normally confident Dragon angry and - if everything had gone according to plan - unable to do anything about it was actually putting him at ease.

"Your majesty," he said, inclining his head with only the slightest hint of condescension in his voice. "You do me honor in my castle."

She met his gaze without hesitation, her eyes burning with a fury she was holding back for now. Without looking down, she dropped down her to knees, pressing her right hand to the floor while raising the palm of her left to Santok.

"Lord Santok," she said simply, in perfect Kletrak. It was a mixed gesture. The bow and the use of his native tongue were concessions to Santok. But her constant glare and unembellished acknowledgement of his presence were just shy of a challenge. Cyra knew well that she couldn't afford to risk Santok's full wrath. But she was not so beaten yet as to throw herself at his feet and beg his mercy. Again, Santok expected no less.

"I trust," Santok said, straightening in his throne to mark the end of the pleasantries, "that you have chosen to meet my terms?"

Wordlessly, Cyra reached to her side and pulled the hated sword free of her belt. Deslordian remained in its sheath and Santok could see the chains wrapped around its hilt. Cyra held the sword in front of her and gave a few tugs at the hilt to show that the chains held it fast in the scabbard. At this short distance, Santok could feel Deslordian's seething anger, though he wasn't certain if it was more furious at being unable to protect its bearer or being unable to kill him.

"You can test it yourself, if you'd like," Cyra suggested, holding the blade out to him. They both knew that this would not happen. Santok had once put a hand on Deslordian for a mere second. The experience had left him without the use of that arm for months. The sword's nature, the fact that it seemed to have a rudimentary soul within it, puzzled Santok. His own axe, though it was supposed to be the counterpart to Deslordian, only seemed to pulse with the energies of battle. It was yet another reminder of his constant struggle against Cyra, but nothing more than that. Deslordian, meanwhile, had changed its aura to a more alluring one, trying to tempt him to reach out and take it. Santok shook his head, feeling discomfort for the first time. He wished he'd been able to ask her to come without the sword, but he needed to be mindful of the prophecy.

"No," he answered. "Just keep it under control." The sword grew quiet, but still rumbled with a low fury. Cyra was now standing before him, fixing the scabbard to her belt once more.

"Where is Rayna?" she asked.

If Santok had not been searching for something like it, he likely would have missed the slight tremble in Cyra's voice as she said her daughter's name. She still stood with utter confidence and her eyes did not waver even slightly. But that little shake in her voice was the first sign to Santok of the anguish he had no doubt put his enemy through. He was pleased.

Turning his attention from Cyra for a moment, he called for one of his guards. The stick-thin creature with a face in a permanent sneer came running in from the back of the throne room. No doubt he'd been waiting as close to the door as he dared until he was summoned. He trotted up to the throne and looked scornfully in Cyra's direction. He seemed to consider doing more, but a quick look from Santok made him reconsider. He hopped up to Santok's side and Santok leaned very close to him. Speaking in Kletrak wasn't going to conceal their conversation, so he would have to keep his voice low.

"Bring the girl up now. If the lookouts spot any dragons, I will send them to find you and you may cut her hand off. Otherwise, she is not to be harmed while you bring her here. Understood?"

The guard nodded and left through the back door. Time passed awkwardly. None of the lookouts came down to report a sighting. Santok and Cyra eyed each other, but neither spoke. What was there to say?

The back door opened again and Cyra tensed. Even Santok was a little nervous as his guard shoved Rayna into the throne room in front of him. Santok hadn't seen her in full light since she'd first been brought to his castle. Her injuries looked far worse now that he could see her more clearly. The guard had tied her hands in front of her with coarse rope, which wasn't it making any easier for her to walk steadily. Her head was down; she wasn't ready to face her mother yet. Santok turned his attention back to Cyra, half expecting her to be ready to kill him with her bare hands. Instead, Cyra was completely focused on her daughter, unable to hold back a pained expression. Halfway to the throne, Rayna tripped and fell roughly to her knees. The guard let out a nasty chuckle and Cyra fixed her fierce gaze on him, looking even more furious than she had with Santok. The guard feel silent, dropped his end of the rope, and fled from the room. Cyra rushed to her daughter's side, knelt on the floor in front of her, and began tearing at the rope.

This was the moment. Santok rose slowly from his throne, carefully watching for the slightest sign that Cyra was aware of him doing it. There was none. He took a cautious step in Cyra's direction. Nothing. Another. Still nothing. It seemed the palace could have been collapsing around them and Cyra would have never known it. Her back was to him and her attentions were entirely fixed on Rayna. He advanced slowly, not wanting to test the limits of Cyra's preoccupation/ Soon enough, he was standing right behind his foe. She and Rayna were talking, but he couldn't make out any of it. The steady drumbeat of his axe had grown increasingly faster and louder. One strike was all it would take. She couldn't fight back, couldn't even defend herself. One strike and the Dragon would be dead. He raised his axe. Just one strike.

Never could he have dreamed of what happened next being even a possibility. Rayna was hurt and half-starved, barely able to walk a few steps without stumbling. From everything he had heard, she did not have her mother's strength or any of her experience with the worst of war and physical pain. Shame had kept her from looking up, even at her mother. So how had she seen it coming? From where could she have possibly summoned the strength to push her mother - the legendary Dragon, no less - out of the way of that perfect killing blow?

There were some who came to believe that the next thing was an accident; that nobody had enough time to react to Rayna pushing her mother out of harm's way. This was not true. Time seemed to slow for Santok, until that one moment could have lasted forever. His true enemy was no longer there and now the only thing in range of his axe's swing was Rayna's unprotected back. He could have stopped his axe mid-swing. He could have left Rayna and turned on the no doubt stunned Cyra and killed her before she even knew what was happening. But he remembered. He remembered seeing his father's shield resting on top of his covered remains, so battered that it's original shape was almost lost. He remembered standing by his mother's body as funeral preparations went on. He still wasn't sure if the rumor that her missing hand hung in Cyra's banquet hall as a trophy was true or not. He remembered everyone he had cared for who left him to fight against Cyra and came back dead by her hand. He thought of all the loss Cyra had caused him and chose to give her a taste of it. The axe was in his complete control every second, as it tore open Rayna's back, shattered her spine, ripped through her heart, and smashed through her ribs on the other side. He relished it, anticipating the release from his grief as he passed it on to his enemy.

And then, it was over. The pulsing beat of the axe slowly faded. As Santok's own breathing slowed, he realized that the joy he'd felt at killing Rayna was gone. Even before he had looked at Cyra, he knew that the pain he had caused her was not going to alleviate his own. He had done nothing but wasted the element of surprise. He looked down at his axe and saw that Rayna's body still hung limply from the blade. Disgusted, Santok gave the axe a shake and Rayna fell lifeless to the stone floor. Santok wiped some of the blood from the axe blade with the edge of his cape, then looked to Cyra.

Cyra had been thrown onto her back when her daughter pushed her free of the axe's swing. Now she was on her side facing Santok, though she didn't even seem to notice him. If she had been pale before, she was now ghost-white. Her mouth hung open and her eyes were wide with total horror. Her breathing had been reduced to strangled gasps, as if she just couldn't force enough air into her lungs. She was making a barely audible noise, high and thin and mostly air. It took Santok a moment to realize what it was. Cyra's voice was failing her, but she was screaming.

Santok circled around behind Cyra. Such untempered grief was hard to look at, even when the one suffering it was someone who richly deserved it. Cyra's only reaction was to weakly pull herself a little closer to her daughter's body. Santok realized that his chance to kill Cyra might not be gone after all. She was far too distraught to even think of fighting back. Even if she saw him coming, she might not move to stop him. He could still end this.

He would have, if she had not arrived.

She who? Well I'm still working on stuff like a new name for her and her coming in won't make much sense until I write what happened before it. So you're just gonna have to wait.