KGWrites

Iona

Palace Gardens, Falcon’s Nest Palace, Kingdom of Aldiron

There was something about knowing one of her best friends since childhood was away risking his life for her in war that left the world around Iona feeling oddly surreal. Everyone around her continued as normal, talking about the latest court gossip, or the latest sermon in The Village, while all she could think of was Marius and the legions out to the North, fighting for them all.

The only others that seemed to appreciate what was happening around them were her training companions; Meghan Whiteoak and the Cobalt siblings. Though they seemed focussed on training and the Cobalts seemed to have retreated into the safety of one another’s company following the attack on Alyx. And any time spent with Meghan was exhaustingly drawn to the training of Iona’s magical abilities.

Lord Captain Haster wasn’t often at training anymore. Now that the legions were pulled away, he and his guards had to focus even more on the protection of the city. A city that now more than ever felt balanced on a knife edge since her father had revealed the beginning of the war.

Her father of course was also concerned, but he was caught now in matters of war, constantly meeting with nobles and soldiers. Which left him little time to see to his daughter.  

Which left Iona with the one friend in the palace that could understand her worries and anxieties, and likely felt them more than Iona herself did.

Violet Hills looked as if she hadn’t had a proper night’s rest in days. Her blonde hair, usually beautifully maintained and ordered, was tied into a quick, messy braid and thrown haphazardly across her shoulder. Her sea blue eyes had lost their usual sparkle, dimmed by the purple bags beneath them. Even her outfits were dulled, lacking their usual jewelled ornamentation. Though it was, as ever, a fine dress that she wore. She still looked beautiful as ever, just a tired, more effortless beauty than usual.

Iona couldn’t blame her either, the last they had heard from the army they had been preparing to meet Draconeus’ forces at the banks of the Ramm River, far to the north. Both Marius and Violet’s father, Lord Martyn Hills, had been amongst the commanders of the Legions there.

But that message had come four days ago. And nothing had come since.

Many at court would often reassure themselves that the battle was already won, and the legions were returning to surprise the kingdom with their great victory. Or the more pessimistic might say that the battle was still ongoing, a drawn out conflict along the riverbanks wasn’t unlikely.

But Iona didn’t find herself sharing their optimistic outlooks. In war, she supposed, no news was very rarely good news.

And so, she and Violet had often taken to riding the grounds of the palace, or training with Zephyr and the other falcons. Anything to stop themselves being idle and forced to think on the silence from the North.

“How is Alyx’s recovery going?” Violet asked as Iona carefully passed a mouse through the bars of the little cage that held Zephyr.

“Well, I think.” Iona replied, unable to mask the frustration that entered her voice. Alyx had been close to her brother and Lillian since the accident, like she was avoiding Iona. “She’s back at training now, though she still doesn’t spar with anyone yet.”

“And yet, you seem… tense about it.” Violet observed. Iona took a deep breath, ready to push Violet’s oncoming probing questions away. But then she paused, she’d not been able to voice the worry she was feeling to anyone yet, maybe now was the time.

“I… I suppose I am.” Iona said, moving to sit on a nearby bench and waving the falconers away.

Violet approached and sat down next to Iona, motioning for her friend to continue.

“I’m… I don’t know… worried? I guess?” Iona said after a while, struggling to find the words to meet her feelings. “Since the attack Alyx has been… different. She takes guard duty in the palace, at my quarters or along with the other guards when I go to The Village, but outside of training I don’t see her anymore like we used to. She stays away from me, with her brother and Lillian.”

“You are worried she’s avoiding you?” Violet asked, completing the thought without Iona needing to voice it. Iona nodded.

“She nearly died because I’m stupid enough to want to run away from the palace and explore the city. She was told to look after me when I did that, and when she tried to help… she…” Iona trailed off, not needing to finish the sentence for Violet to understand her meaning.

“She did her duty to you.” Violet said firmly. “Any of your guards would be proud to do as she did.”

“But Alyx isn’t like my other guards.” Iona protested. “She didn’t ask for this task, it was thrust upon her. And to turn it down would have been to sign her own death warrant, along with James and Lillian’s.”

“Iona. Alyx could have accepted your father’s task and then been the laziest guard you’ve ever had, she could have encouraged your rebellions in far more dangerous ways. She armed herself and you, she planned the trip. You were ambushed by murderers in a place she had thought safe. I don’t believe she blames her injuries on you. Not for a second.” Violet told her.

It made sense, Iona knew that. She knew that Alyx had put in more effort to being her guard, rather than just a guard. That Alyx had spent time learning how best to work with Iona herself, rather than some nameless idealised princess. But didn’t that just mean that by pandering to her whims, Alyx had put herself in more danger?

“I’m not sure that I-.” Iona began but Violet quickly interrupted her.

“Princess, Alyx Cobalt would never blame anyone but herself for getting hurt in a fight. And you are just looking for something that you believe you need to fix here in Aldiron that might make you feel better when what’s worrying you is out there with Marius and my father.” Violet’s voice was final, harsh and snappy, causing Iona to draw back in surprise at her friend. As soon as it had appeared though, Violet’s anger faded, drawing back into her usual refined calm.

“Alyx is recovering from near fatal injuries. She’s taking tasks less taxing while she does so. She’s not avoiding you. And she nearly died, of course she’ll spend more time with her brother. Until a few months ago, all they knew was each other, that won’t have changed.”

Iona sat back, she hadn’t considered it the way Violet was suggesting, but it did make a lot of sense. And came with a rather uncomfortable realisation.

“I’ve made something of a tit of myself here haven’t I? Ended up thinking it all related back to me. Didn’t really think about Alyx at all.” She said softly. Violet hummed out a laugh.

“You’re a princess Iona, it comes with the job.” She reassured her. Iona chuckled and laid her head on Violet’s shoulder.

“Thank you.” She said after a moment had passed and she felt Violet move her head in a nod against her.

No more words were needed between the two friends as they sat in peaceful silence, taking a moment in one another’s company.

Until the peace was broken by the sounding of horns echoing from outside the city walls, and the rhythmic beating of drums answered them from the walls’ watchtowers, sounding across the city and making the two women sit up on alert, even as high as the palace grounds.

In sync, their heads whipped to face one another.

“Those are legion horns.” Violet said, her voice betraying the fear and hope battling within her. A battle that wouldn’t be ended sitting in the gardens. Iona stood quickly, grabbing Violet by the hand.

“Come on.” She said simply, pulling her friend along behind her as she took off at a sprint towards the palace.

The Throne Room, Falcon’s Nest Palace, Kingdom of Aldiron

It had started to rain by the time she and Violet ducked into the throne room, but Iona didn’t stop to dry herself off. Instead she strode quickly up the long hall, still practically dragging Violet behind her.

The room was already becoming crowded, and more people were filing in to line the sides. Iona caught sight of Meghan Whiteoak stood with James Cobalt and Lillian to one side of the long aisle that was forming up the centre of the room.

Ahead of her, her father was already stood before the throne, stony faced. The crown of Aldiron was pulled down hard onto his brow and the royal sword, Talon, was sheathed at his side.

Stood just before the throne, forming a line across the chamber separating the crowd from the king, stood the royal guard. Captain Conrad Turner stood before the King, his armour’s gold trim flickering in the light of the braziers. Iona quickly picked out Reynard Junice, stood strongly in his glistening plate armour at the foot of the stairs leading up to her own smaller throne. Further along the line of guards, towards the shadows at the side of the room, she spotted Alyx Cobalt, equipped in her own light armour, which still bore a patch in the leather over her shoulder and a marked scar on her chestpiece. Alyx gave Iona a quick, stiff nod, her face grim. Iona returned the greeting with a nod of her own before she stepped past Junice and quickly ascended the stairs to her throne. Violet split off from her, moving over towards a few other ladies of court gathered nearby, she gave Iona’s hand a squeeze as she did, though whether that was for Iona’s benefit, or Violet’s own, Iona wasn’t sure.

Reaching down Iona lifted her own silvered crown of feathered wings from her cushioned throne and placed it carefully on her brow. Then she turned and stood straight, hands clasped behind her back, staring straight ahead towards the doors with her head held high, chin jutting slightly forwards. Trying her best to look as stony and composed as her father, even as the butterflies of anxiety in her chest twisted themselves into writhing serpents of worry.

She’d heard horns of a legion returning from war with Draconeus before. When she had been just nine years old and her father, then the crown prince of Aldiron had rode off with his greatest warriors to lead the war. They’d won that conflict, but the cost…

Iona remembered the echoes of the horns fading as she caught sight of the shrouded carriage of black that her father had walked next to, his head lowered in inconsolable grief. For so many, those horns had been a cry of victory and safety, of returning family. For Iona, they were the sound that took her mother away. A long echo of loss and grief.

She feared what they would bring now.  

She didn’t need to wait long to find out.

The sound of marching boots echoed through the halls before the doors to the throne room opened, revealing a sight that caused Iona’s breath to catch in her throat, and the entire chamber to fall deathly silent.

A vanguard of soldiers entered the room first, bearing the banners of the silvered falcon, but it was no victory march. The soldiers were blood and grime stained, their armour rent and their faces distant and defeated. Behind this opening vanguard walked two figures, similarly exhausted and battered. One was blonde, though his hair was streaked with near black mud and his helmet was missing, replaced with a blood stained bandage wrapped across his head to cover his left ear, where a darker red patch could already be seen.

Lord Martyn Hills. Violet’s father.

Iona’s eyes darted to her friend, finding her with one hand over her mouth, eyes wide and glistening. She looked in shock, and as harsh as it seemed, Iona was glad in that moment for it. Shock left Violet unable to rush to her father, unable to disrupt the questions that would need answered before any of these soldiers could find rest.

It was the other man walking into the room that Iona found herself unable to look away from though.

Commander Marius Fridolf looked as if he had died and then dug himself back out of the grave. His skin was caked in mud, one eye was swollen shut and his left arm was slung into a cloth sling that looked to have been made from the green cloak he usually wore.

But it was Marius’ eyes that kept Iona’s rapt attention on him. They were dull and dark and seemed unfocused, lost on something far away. The pale green her friend had always looked at her from behind was gone, replaced with a dull grey that seemed to sink deeper into his face.

She knew that look, she’d seen it on her father when he’d walked next to that carriage, and it had never truly left him. Iona didn’t need to ask where Grand Marshall Caestus was, Marius had already told her all she needed to know.

Marius and Hills walked alongside one another, moving through the vanguard ahead of them to reach the line of royal guard, where they stopped and dipped into bows towards her father.

“Arise.” King Samuel Ravellan commanded and the two soldiers did so.

“What news do you bring us?” Samuel asked and both of the men before him lowered their heads, neither wanting to speak up first. After a few seconds though, Marius lifted his gaze to the king.

“Lord Draconeus has crossed the Ramm your highness. We met him in battle at the riverbank as planned. For a time it seemed victory was a sure thing, we had battered the enemy hard on their crossing and they struggled to pass the defences we had set.” Marius began.

“But it was a ruse. When darkness fell Draconeus’ Accursed warriors could fight better than our men in the dark. And before long, he sprung a trap that made full use of it.”

Iona watched her father slowly lower himself into his throne, the weight of Marius’ words seeming to actively force him down into the seat. She followed suit, sitting in her throne and clutching at the arms reflexively. Samuel waved his hand, motioning for Marius to continue.

“The forces we had faced were only a part of his army. Another must have crossed earlier than we’d thought and hidden themselves in the hills and forests south of our legions. When the fighting was fiercest, we suddenly found ourselves with a second enemy force at our backs. A hammer meant to crush us against the anvil of their forces on the riverbank. What had seemed set for a great victory became a desperate struggle to survive.” Marius continued. Gasps of horror echoed around the crowd in waves and Iona felt her blood run cold in her veins. In all her days, the legions of Aldiron had remained stalwart and undefeated. Especially the First Legion, commanded by Marius’ father.

It appeared that the same thought had reached King Samuel as he leaned forwards in his throne.

“And what of your father, and the First Legion?” He asked and Marius stilled. Even from this far, she could see him gulp down his feelings, struggling to remain stalwart as his duty required.

“Grand Marshall Caestus sounded a retreat to all legions from his command post and ordered the First forwards, to charge Draconeus himself and the soldiers with him. We believe he hoped that cutting the head off the enemy would demoralise them and allow us to rally. But the demon gave him no quarter. As soon as his orders were given and he turned to join the charge, Caestus’ position was hit by some dark magic flame and he was lost to us.” Marius managed to say, his voice struggling to remain level and calm, with a quiver to it that made Iona want to rush to her friend’s side. Marius words brought a silent despair to the hall, as everyone present took the moment to understand what he meant. Even Samuel seemed to slump in the throne in disbelief.

Iona could scarcely believe it herself. Caestus Fridolf was the greatest soldier that Aldiron had ever seen, he’d won more battles any general in the kingdom’s history, against Draconeus and the other rival kingdoms. He had been a hero, a legend upheld by the people of the city. Some whispers among the faithful had even called him an embodiment of The Soldier Themselves.

And Draconeus had ended him in a second with a single spell.

“We lost all hope after that. What had been a retreat became a rout and our legions were divided. Many fell quickly. However, most of the Fifth, Seventh, Eighth, Ninth and Eleventh Legions were able to retreat eastwards, falling back deeper into the Kingdom’s lands.”

It wasn’t as reassuring as it sounded, Iona knew. Falling back to the east meant retreating around mountains and away from the coast and the city of Aldiron itself. Those legions may have lived, but they wouldn’t be any help to those still here in the city now. Any attempt to reunify would have Draconeus’ army between them and the legions still in the city.

“And you?” King Samuel asked. “How did you escape this rout?”

Marius gestured towards Martyn Hills next to him.

“Lord Hills and his Second Legion rallied to push through the enemy lines and lead a retreat here. They paid for it dearly, but thanks to their bravery and sacrifices, I was able to retreat the Third Legion, and much of the Fourth, back here to Aldiron. He saved many lives that day, including my own.” He explained, and Martyn Hills bowed again.

“Thank you, Commander, I appreciate your words. Though in truth they ring hollow, the taste of defeat is a bitter one.” He replied and Marius nodded sadly.

Next to Iona, Samuel sat forwards on the throne.

“If what Commander Marius says is true Lord Hills, then that defeat would have turned much worse had you and your men not found your courage in the face of it. You’ve bought us legions with which we can defend ourselves. You’ve given Aldiron a chance to continue to fight.”

Then King Samuel suddenly rose from the throne, drawing Talon from its scabbard in a single practiced movement and raising it towards Hills and Marius.

“So, find that courage again, both of you. You’ll need it, and Aldiron will need it. Rest your legions and yourselves and then rearm and rearmour. Lord Captain Haster, you and your city guards must now see to the defences of the city.” He commanded, his voice echoing across the throne room, seeming to blend with the roll of thunder from outside the palace walls.

Haster, stood near the doors with a few of his guards, stood to attention and saluted.

“General Marius Fridolf.” Samuel continued, causing a murmur through the crowd as he bestowed the promotion upon Marius without warning or ceremony. Even Marius looked taken aback as he drew his head back in surprise before bowing to the king.

“You will refresh your Fourth Legion with those from the city that wish to defend their homes. See them trained, armed and armoured, as quickly as you can.” Samuel ordered and Marius saluted awkwardly with his undamaged arm.

“I will personally see to the command of the Third Legion and its place within the defences. And you, Grand Marshall Hills, will see to the Second, and to the command of the defences.” Samuel concluded.

That sent a tremor of gasps and whispers down the crowd. Iona understood why. It was needed of course, to have someone take over command now that Caestus Fridolf was lost. And Martyn Hills had served loyally at her father’s side since they had been boys together. There were few in the kingdom better suited than him.

And yet, it felt a little like Hills was being forced to jump into Caestus’ grave.

“I know that many of you will feel broken by what we’ve learned here today. But Aldiron is strong, and we endure the darkness of night with the promise of sunrise. We will be the sun. And I promise you all this, that when the night comes knocking at our door, we’ll drive it back beyond the horizon and make it regret ever rising against us! Aldiron endures! Aldiron stands!” Her father’s voice became a battle cry of victory. One that bounced across the walls and floor and, as he raised Talon into the air, one that was joined by other voices in a chant.

“Aldiron stands!”

“Aldiron stands!”

Iona’s own voice joined the chorus, her fist punching at the air to accentuate every cry. The whole hall echoed with the words and, even as the dread of the days ahead settled over Iona’s mind like a choking black smog, hope began to bloom within her.

A hope which lasted right up until she spotted three people who had not joined the chant.

James Cobalt’s injured hand was firmly holding to Lillian’s shoulder and both of them were looking to Alyx in her position in the line of guards.

And, as another rumble of thunder tried in vain to drown out the war cry of her defiant kingdom, Iona Ravellan watched as Alyx gave a slight nod to James, confirming some unspoken question.

And whatever it was, Iona felt her stomach drop as a cold feeling that for some reason, she might never see Alyx again settled into her mind.