The songbird piped up to the crow’s approach, its head cocked at an angle. The smaller bird blocked the path of the crow to its nest, chirping in futility to the crow’s advance on the gnarled branch. With a wild flapping of wings the crow struck the songbird, embedding its beak into its breast for a mortal wound. The songbird fell, spiraling down to the forest floor, a chunk of flesh torn out from its side. The crow continued its path to its prize, vicious black eyes greedily taking in the sight of the songbird's clutch of nestlings who cried out helplessly.

Overhead two shapes flew past the trees, a blur of motion to anyone watching from below. Terese wore a black leather hood with a mask stitched along that covered the lower half of her face, her equally dark cloak fluttering violently behind her as she sped behind Queen Lyssa who was garbed in similar fashion. Terese only saw her bright red cape which billowed behind, covering Lyssa from view.

They had left in the morning without eating a meal; after all flying was a freeing yet disorienting affair, so the Queen said. Trees around fifty feet high sprouted from the outskirts of the Heartlands, a forest only a few centuries old in its infancy. Terese had advised against journeying through here, home to rebels and perhaps even insurrectionist mages.

“That is precisely why we must take this route. Let the rats scurry below, thinking they’re safe. I won’t journey all the way to the capital without a damned good reason.”

Terese squinted below, searching for any signs of an ambush. There was no doubt in her mind it was not where it would take place, but when. A small army could live here unseen and waiting.

I sense your unease, Lyssa Voiced in her mind. Do you doubt me Terese? Wait.

Terese paused at her word, the two drifting to a halt in the air.

Do you feel it? Someone is attempting to conceal their presence, but they can’t hide all of them.

In answer several musket shots went off, cracking out echoing past the treeline. Queen Lyssa opened one hand, suspending the small lead balls in place, just a few feet away from her face. Terese raised her own hands, guarding her back. The Queen then clenched her hand into a fist, and the balls shot back from whence they came. Several cries were heard and men fell dead off the branched cover of the trees.

The Queen snarled and dove down, feral grin akin to a wolf with the swift grace of an eagle. Terese followed her weaving around the sparse forest canopy or otherwise bending the leafed branches back by force, using her Gift to open a clear path. A circle of daggers concealed within her bodice formed in rapid succession spinning behind her, a lethal halo that flew to stab at the remaining men’s backs attempting to flee. They wore brown or dark green clothing, even having painted their faces dark green to match with the forest shrubbery. The Queen chose to finish off the men with her saber, preferring close quarters over Terese’s long ranged attacks. She flew from branch to branch, only pausing to thrust or slash at the retreating men.

“Prime and hold!” roared a man who loomed over behind a loose line of men frantically attempting to reload their muskets in frantic disarray. The Queen slew a man running past and walked slowly towards them, dark blood dripping down from her saber. She raised her hand at the men, and tilted her head curious at the absent effect.

A man and a woman stepped out from behind the cover of the trees to surround Terese. The man was bearded, his hair like thin straw in braided knots. He wielded two axes which he scraped together menacingly, sparks flying off the blades. The woman wore a hooded cloak as Terese a dingy green in color, hiding whatever weapons she carried from sight. They wore the garb of highlanders, long checkered kilts with brown leather garments sewn to their olive green clothing.

Terese watched them, her halo of daggers suspended behind her. She drew her katana from her back waiting for them to attack.

Leave the giant to me. Hold off the other two, the Queen's voice rang in her thoughts.

“Fire!” Their leader commanded, a cloud of smoke rose up as the muskets went off, followed by dying men’s screams shortly after. At the musket fire the two charged at Terese. The woman unleashed a flurry of small throwing knives that flew out from the cover of her cloak. Her daggers deflected them away, only for the blades to act with a mind of their own striking and parrying each other, knife against dagger. The man howled with fury and swung madly at Terese who dodged and ducked behind the wall of blades that flew and twisted against the other.

The woman’s throwing knives repeatedly arced out only to be struck by the daggers, protecting Terese from their path. With a wave of the woman's hand the blades dropped to the ground, wobbling and shaking as if they were attempting to rise back up. The woman threw off her cloak to reveal a leather vest covered with a dozen or so scabbards, now empty. Her hair was auburn in color, tied in a tight ball behind. Twin brilliant jade green eyes stared at Terese seeking vengeance for her fallen comrades. She produced two long knives sheathed at her back that curved outward and circled behind her, the man in front.

The man's body coursed with power, amber light running out from his body, revealing the veins and vessels from his limbs and his temples to lastly his eyes which glowed a dangerous aura. Terese kept her sight on the man and set herself in a squared stance, left foot forward, right leg back. She would have to rely on her Voice to signal when the woman would attack.

The man stepped forward and dashed with supernatural speed, where Terese's eyes in turn lit up with power. She parried the first axe and ducked under the second, kicking the woman swiftly back with her rear leg at the same time. With a flick of her wrist a small dagger shot out from within her boot and struck the woman square on the chest. She drew back and collapsed, blood welling up and dripping down from her mouth.

"No!" Screamed the man, who hurled himself at Terese and swung after her, wild swings that beheaded the air rushing over her ducking head. She flew above, dodging one of his spinning axes that whirled past upwards to the trees and beyond. Her katana flew back to its scabbard. She had no more need for it.

"Come back down here you fecking bitch!" The man cried out.

As soon as the woman gasped her last breath all the daggers floated upwards and were summoned back to Terese, spinning with maddening speed in front of her. The whirling daggers descended down and the man dropped his axe to run faster than any mortal man could. He could not escape the whirlwind of blades however, which in its blinding speed cut his body horizontally in two by his belly, splatters of blood spurting up while guts flew out in several directions.

Terese landed down on the ground and rolled forward to lessen the impact. The use of her Gifts had exhausted her, and she walked past the corpses scattered around the wood, weary of battle. She trudged towards Queen Lyssa, knowing she would have no need for her aid. The Queen was dueling the last surviving man, their leader.

He loomed two heads over Lyssa, his head closely cropped matching the rough stubble on his face. He roared while swinging his greatsword in wide sweeps that would undoubtedly cleave a man in two regardless of armor. The Queen evaded the graceless assault, ducking and jumping with great dexterity. While she dodged she slashed repeatedly at his non vital areas; a nick here, a cut there. It only seemed to anger the man even more and he spun in a circle wildly to which Lyssa flew up in an instant to avoid the continuous attack.

The man raised his hand, fingers curled out in a claw. The force of his Gift sent the surrounding bodies flying back, the Queen strode forward and momentarily froze mid step before advancing, the irises of her eyes glowing with golden light. She had a newfound grin on her face before closing the distance of several feet in a second and began her attack in earnest. The man answered with his own power, yellow orange light flaring out from his body and reaching his eyes.

His attacks increased in speed, his sword moving like its weight was lightened to a stick. His blows seemed to cut through even the air, creating shockwaves that caused the leaves from the trees above to shake and fall. They became a whirling dance of blades that was a blur to mortal eyes. Terese watched them, in awe of the Queen’s swiftness which clearly surpassed the man’s. She dodged every attack he made and continued her tirade of cuts, her red cape seeming to float, held up by the speed of her movements. Cut after cut the man began to slow and faltered, the light fading from his eyes. They stopped their blinding dance, reverting back to mortality.

He leaned on his claymore, breathing hard. Queen Lyssa smiled and advanced, her power still evident. She glimmered to existence in front of him and kicked away his greatsword, sending it flying to strike the nearest tree trunk, wobbling with the force of her strength. The man collapsed to one knee. His clothes were shredded, cut to an unrecognizable tatter.

“Was that so hard Regan?” Lyssa said with scorn. “All you had to do was kneel before me.” The man inhaled deeply before spitting on the ground.

“To kill you," he breathed. "Would free a kingdom from your tyranny."

“Tyranny this, justice that,” the Queen mocked making a face. She waved her arm and the man cried out. His arms and legs stretched out as if he were held to a wheel and rose, suspended in the air. The surviving tatters of his shirt fell away exposing the multitude of shallow cuts that criss crossed his body. Stand beside me Terese, the Queen’s Voice called her. Terese did as she was bid and stepped forward.

“Now then. This was no ordinary ambush. It seems the rebellion has reached even the commoners. Your own son to join us, Regan? I’m touched. It’s on you to bring him to his death. Only a select few knew where and when I would leave.” The Queen’s grin distorted to a snarl. “Who told you where I would go?”

“Go feck yourself with your sword,” Regan jeered. He cried out as his arm extended out. With inextricable slowness the cuts on his arm rent to tear the skin off, falling away to show the muscle and sinew underneath. The man’s cry turned to a scream as his arm was slowly flayed in front of his very eyes. It was not just the macabre sight of the man’s exposed arm, but the surgical precision in which Queen Lyssa used her Gift that frightened Terese. She kept her face a blank expressionless mask, for she knew all too well it would not escape the Queen’s attention. Blood dripped down the loose flaps of skin that hung from his hand as Regan weeped in pain.

“I’ll flay your entire body if I have to,” Lyssa grinned with sadistic delight. “The process could take hours. But I don't have the time. So tell me. Who told you I would be traveling by my lonesome, with only my apprentice to guard me?”

“You’re a fecking monster,” he spit at the Queen, foaming globules that froze in its path and dropped to the ground. It took both of his arms for Regan to utter his name. “You don’t even know whom to trust,” he cackled, head lolled down in abandon. “You’re dead!”

Lyssa tilted her head, the slightest smirk on her face. The man’s hoarse laughter turned to shrieking screams as the Queen continued her work. Throughout it all Terese watched, unflinching. It took an hour for her to finish and they donned their hoods to carry on their journey.

You knew it was Roth that planned this ambush, wasn’t it my Queen? Terese Voiced to Lyssa. Why not just finish him off and save us time?

Of course. But where is the fun in that?

***

They reached the Ranier highlands, sweeping grasslands that bordered on the fringes of Raul. Grey craggy hills interrupted the swathes of greens and yellows that covered the landscape. Hamlets less than a dozen stone buildings or so occasionally dotted the land, people walking obliviously below.

They arrived at dusk, only one sun partially visible spreading a weak orange horizon. The Kingdom of Raul consisted mostly of grassland that sloped steadily down to the Elder Forest, which stood so tall you could see the giant trees peaking out to the dark indigo sky. The City of Raul was a veritable fortress. Its outer walls completed a roughly shaped circle around its middle and inner ones, lined with turrets and gates in between each wall. What was important was farmland grew inside and outside the city walls. Many a siege was exhausted by Raul’s self-sufficiency. The walls that encircled it spanned for miles. Whereas the capital was crammed with buildings of wood and stone, Raul was a collection of rural looking towns that resembled an earlier era, having rebuilt again and again after each war. As a result its people were hardy, having endured and adapted to the constant strife.

Beyond Raul’s borders grew a younger wood roughly thirty feet high that looked like saplings to the Elder Forest. A stone wall constructed shortly after the era of King Celdan was the only thing standing in the way of the encroaching woods, spanning as far as the mortal eye could see and more. You could only view the forest canopy past the wall, a leafy sea of green that spanned to the monstrous trees growing over the sunken terrain.

Lastly came the Elder Tree, striking the horizon. It was so vast its branches spread out past the clouds, its outline bathed in the orange sunset. There it stood, a mountain of wood and leaf the same size as any normal tree's. The sheer density of its leaves looked like smaller woods in their own right that grew over its forked branches, connecting with each other as it fanned outwards.

“Grotesquely big, is it not?” The Queen remarked. “I wonder how we would go about trying to burn the damned thing.”

“It would be a war against the very embodiment of nature, my Queen.”

“Is it not humankind’s nature, to make anything submit to its whims?”

“You cannot war with nature. It would be to war with one’s self.”

“A philosophy you learned in the Imperial court?”

“My master once told me I was a scorpion. He said it was in my nature to strike even its master.”

“And you did. Though it does not make you a scorpion. A tree is a tree, a human is a human. And that tree, however big it is, will burn. Not because I need it too, but because I’d simply like it too. Life’s simpler that way, I found that out when I was younger than even you. Enjoy the little pleasures it brings.”

They passed Raul’s walls unmolested and paused mid flight to meet with a party of eight mages who flew to greet them. One of the mages pulled back his hood, revealing Roth’s angled face.

“My Queen, it is a pleasure to see you so soon.”

Queen Lyssa unhooked her mask and smiled dazzlingly, which held no visible effect on Roth.

“Yes, well, there were no disruptions in our journey. I have no doubt the addition of your honor guard would have only slowed us down.”

Roth smiled thinly in reply.

“Now that we are all here, we may as well begin. Let them see what they have wrought, the natives, and cower before our ire.”

Terese and Queen Lyssa followed Roth and his escort a short flight away to the wall that bordered the forest beyond. Numerous lines of tents were already encamped behind, sentries standing above the crumbling parapets of the ancient wall. Wagons of supplies and tools lay grouped together, waiting for use. Soldiers gazed up in wonder at their approach, some even bowing with reverence.

They descended upon a white tent twice as large as the others, the Royal Pavilion. Roth waved away the covers of its entrance to which they entered in single file, his entourage of seven standing guard in a line just outside. Inside was a long table occupied by a man that stood fidgeting anxiously. A lone lamp glowed dimly in the confines of the tent, illuminating the man with orange light. The man's shadow strayed to the side, a watchful wraith. His greying black facial hair made up of mutton chops and curling mustache indicated his mortal nature, his certain receding hairline covered by a feather plumed mushroom shaped burgundy hat. A straight broad nose accompanied by sunken grey eyes were the distinct features of his face. He bowed low, holding onto his ridiculous hat so it would not fall.

“Crown Steward Roth, Queen Lyssa, it is an honor to serve you.”

“General Martin. Do the men stand ready to torch the sapling forest?”

The General nodded at Roth’s words.

“We are ready and able, Commander.”

“Ah, ah ah,” Lyssa interrupted them. She faced General Martin and said, “I am now the acting Commander. Order your men to begin. Now leave us.” The Queen flicked her hand away to which the General saluted and hurriedly walked out. She turned, head tilted to Roth.

“Funny how your men are commanding my army. As if you intended to from the very beginning?”

Roth bowed his head, knowing to retreat before inevitable defeat.

“I merely acted as Commander in your absence, my Queen.”

"Yes, well, now you can go back to counseling the Crown Prince, where you belong. That reminds me, the circumstances of his father's death remain a mystery. Just how did the natives kill one of the mightiest mages in the Empire? And it was you who discovered the body, was it not?"

"He was poisoned," Roth said, frowning.

"Still, to drink something from the natives? Our king was stubborn in the old ways, but he was not naive. No, it must have come from someone he trusted."

Roth strode out from the tent, green eyes cold with malice.

Is it wise to goad him, my Queen? Terese Voiced.

Emotions left unchecked may fester into terrible things that reveal our true nature, but most importantly make us sloppy. He may hide behind the Prince's protection, but not for long. His last mistake was his first move.

The Queen smiled, "Now then, let's get on with the show. It's not everyday you see an entire forest burn."

The fire had spread quickly, trees at the forefront wreathed in brilliant flames that scorched out the darkness. The saplings cracked and fell as the bark withered and burned. The Queen stood atop the parapets, a faint smirk forming from the corner of her lips. Terese watched, the bright orange inferno reflecting off the dark orbs of her eyes.