PART FIVE

Chapter 41: Antares

The capped mountains of Antares’ home loomed in the distance, the closest he had been to it in weeks. Despite all the unpredictable adventures he had been through, he hadn’t expected to come home like this.

They had ridden northeast from the palace grounds, making their way to the base of the well-known Terris Court mountains. They took the wider, more open trails between the cities, ones that Antares hadn’t been on since he had gone into hiding. Though, he remembered traveling down these paths many times before, back when he would venture to the capital from his home. It had been somewhat of a long ride, but their cavalry had hurried as fast as they could.

He just hoped they weren't too late.

Antares and the others rode alongside the Royal Guard, their cheaper leathers a stark contrast to the more sophisticated steel armors of the soldiers. Surrounded by people on all sides, Antares had tried to keep his cloak on the entire ride, but to no avail. It had constantly flown off his head in the wind, and he kept his face forward to avoid catching someone’s eye. Although, the Guard did seem to have bigger worries than him at the moment.

The thundering hooves of the guards had quickly become a white noise in his mind, a familiar yet slightly threatening sound to him. Captain Falio of the Royal Guard was at the front of the cavalry—the closest glimpse Antares had gotten of the man, his hair tied back behind his ears. Prince Damian led the Guard with him at his side. It was odd—for all the frustrating things Antares had heard about the prince, he seemed to be doing his part.

Andromeda sat behind Antares, her arms wrapped tightly around his waist. They hadn't moved the entire ride, her body rigid and pressed against his.

The moving group shifted, and the riders in front of him noticeably began to slow. Antares pulled slightly on Bella’s reins. She relaxed a bit as her legs let up from a hasty sprint to a slower trot.

What’s going on?

From over the heads of the guards, Antares could see the captain slowly turning to face them. They had stopped near a rising hill, and Antares could swear he heard the faint sounds of metal on metal. He gripped his reins anxiously.

“Attention soldiers,” Captain Falio announced. “The Ash Court army has been spotted just over this hill. Our scouts ahead say they are advancing on the Terris Guard base this very minute. We will be executing an attack from the west in an attempt to stop this invasion—do I make myself clear? Our objective is to drive them back to their own territory and regain control. But be warned: there have been reports from our scouts that Silmorite is being used as we speak!”

Whispers and murmurs broke out amongst the soldiers, but Antares didn’t even raise an eyebrow. He knew Oberon would eventually bring out his signature weapon to showcase.

“So do not rely on your Gifts to save you,” Falio continued. “Remember your training. Stay in formation, and only do what is instructed by your commanders and I. This a delicate situation involving the Courts. We don’t want an entire civil war on our hands.”

“Yes, yes,” the prince cut in. “We shall fight these scoundrels!”

The captain carried on as though he hadn’t heard the prince. “Squadron One, you’re with me. Commander Kedz will lead Squadron Two, and Commander Allvar will take Squadron Three. Any questions? No? Good. Take your positions!”

It seemed the Guard had some idea of what they were doing, but where did that leave Antares and the others? He couldn’t spot anyone else from his circle, having vanished in the sea of Royal soldiers. He looked back to Andromeda, the only familiar face he could find. She scanned the scene around them, her worry mirroring his.

All the guards surrounding them started to rearrange, shaping into their learned formations and weaving around the pair. Many of them dropped down from their steeds and passed them to others as they rushed into their places—those horses would be kept back. The soldiers that stayed on their trained war steeds stood at the front with their commanding officials. Antares was finally able to catch sight of his companions, stationary in the moving crowd.

He and Andromeda rode up to join Astrid and Orion, Eclipse already regrouped with them. They stood idly as Astrid sat lost in thought, each of them waiting for her word.

“So how do we do this, Astrid?” Cassiopeia called as she and Arcturus approached them. “Do we just follow their lead?”

“The captain seems like he knows what he’s talking about, so follow him. The prince, however, you can disregard anything he says,” she said with a roll of her eyes. Some of the others snickered.

“But besides that,” Astrid started again. “This is a real battle, everyone. I take it I don’t have to worry too much about our soldiers, Antares and Orion, but the rest of you need to be careful, and we all need to stick together. They’ve got Silmorite. You’ve seen their numbers. I don’t…I don’t need any of you getting hurt, or worse, okay? Just please, don’t take on more than you can. We are to push them back to their territory, that’s all.”

Antares nodded, and broke off with Andromeda towards the Guard soldiers. He’d seen the others train. They were good enough to handle themselves. Still, there was an uneasy feeling filling him as he marched forward. He didn’t even want to think about what could go wrong.

The Royal Guard was starting to slowly advance as a group, long rows of soldiers moving in the same direction and smoothly breaking off at certain points. The captain led the biggest group with the prince, his sword gripped in his hands. Gravity weighed down on him as their horses broke into a run up the sloping hill. They had the element of surprise to their advantage, groups of soldiers entering from around the hill and into the side. They ran steadily on their feet, moving as one.

The cries of battle grew louder. It was a haunting noise, the sounds of men mingling with the shrill cry of metal and pounding earth.

And then Bella reached the top, her coat matted with sweat.

“Oh stars,” whispered Andromeda behind him, her soft voice almost lost in the chaos.

They had done it. The cursed Ash Court and their damned Legion had attacked his home.

Hundreds, hell, maybe a thousand people were scattered on the field, right at the start of the mountain trail, the one that led straight to the Guard base. They were engaged in a messy dance of death, so small from his view. They hadn’t broken through, meaning they hadn’t reached the base yet.

At least they still had some hope.

A cautious hope that swelled and receded with each minute. The battlefield was a deadly dance of green and carmine and swords and blades on rocky, uneven ground, resulting in the harrowing sounds of agony.

And his family was down there. The captain, his father. His brothers. Rigel. They were lost somewhere in that battle, fighting for their own home.

Mountains stood over the scene, watching over it like chess pieces on a board. The Ash army held their position in front of the trail, stretching out far enough to block the Terris guards from breaking through. They were painfully divided, and were slowly dwindling to the enemy.

Not for long, you bastards.

“CHARGE!”

Prince Damian’s voice echoed over the cacophony, and Antares whipped his head to the side to see him standing on the top of the hill, his long, elegant sword pointed out proudly. Captain Falio took off, the Royal Guard following him. They spilled out all around Antares like dark, leaked ink, in neat rows and a practiced crescent formation. The prince stayed in his place as his army rushed past him, his eyes wild and bright.

Immediately, Antares could feel the shift in the air, and he knew they had been spotted.

Good.

“Are you ready?” he breathed to Andromeda. Parts of the Royal Guard had already slammed into the dots of red from behind, his people of green still struggling in the front of the struggle.

A pause. “Probably not. Let’s get those bastards.”

Huh…let’s get them indeed.

Antares jabbed his leg into Bella’s side, and she immediately obliged, shooting forward and down the hill, despite having traveled for who knows how long. They thundered down the uneven ground, the wind howling in Antares’ ears. They joined their allies as the ground began to level out, and soon enough, they were vulnerable in the playing field.

The battle took a pause, confusion hanging in the air. A few isolated cheers rang from some of the Terris guards, but the mass sea of new fighters threw everything into a new form of chaos. Antares slowed Bella down, stopping near other guards. He spotted a few wounded Terris Courters nearby, and he clenched his jaw.

Regardless of what the hell he wanted to do with his life, this was his home. He knew for certain that nothing would stop him from protecting it.

“Antares, look,” Andromeda called from behind him, sitting up straighter in their saddle. He turned to see Prince Damian finally riding down, and he shot forward, rushing past them and deeper into the sea of people.

What in the blazing stars...

He could see the captain joining him, and Antares couldn’t tell if he held an air of disbelief or bafflement. Yet he stuck by his side as he came to the rough center, the wretched Ash army coming to a hesitant stop as they noticed their Crown Prince approaching them

The valley was suddenly at its quietest. For a moment, all was still.

Prince Damian stepped down from his horse, looking out into the vast array of Ash Courters. He loudly cleared his throat.

What the hell is he doing?

“Citizens of Ophelia!” he imposingly called out. “I am Prince Damian, son of King Altair, heir to the throne. I order that you stop this rebellious behavior, and return back to your own territory, otherwise you shall be driven back by our Royal Guard, and proclaimed as traitors to this very kingdom!”

No one said a word, the Ash Court soldiers each looking to each other, mystified. Even members of the Royal Guard were perplexed, seeing as negotiating with them was nowhere near part of the plan.

One of the Ash Courters stepped forward, emerging out from within the crowd. He was tall, clothed in thick layers of silver armor, a suit Antares knew too well. This wasn’t an ordinary soldier—it was the new Captain of the Ash Guard. He held a massive sword in his hands, a shining helmet covering his head. The soldiers made way for him as he walked, and he stopped just in front of the bulk of his army. Everyone watched on as he removed his helmet, revealing his sickening face.

Oh hell no.

A dark scar was embedded in his cheek, one that Antares recognized with horror. It was the same man he had rammed into back at Eclipse’s house, the very first mission he had gone on with Astrid. Antares slowly maneuvered his horse back a few steps, hoping the man wouldn’t recognize him.

Antares heard a faint gasp behind him, and glanced over his shoulder. Eclipse had ridden up to join him, a worried look on her face.

“That’s Jaycen,” she whispered. “Oberon’s right hand man.”

“He certainly seems important. Look at that armor he’s wearing,” Andromeda observed quietly.

She was right. His armor was a much more expensive quality than those of the others around him. He even had a protective helmet to go with it. There was definitely some sort of additional treatment for him taking the captain’s place.

That made Antares sink even lower than before.

“And who do you think you are?” Jaycen’s voice boomed throughout the field.

“I, pfft, the…the Crown Prince of Ophelia!” he sputtered incredulously.

“Well, let me inform you of something, Your Highness,” he said with a scowl. “The Ash Court will never surrender, to you or anyone else! FOR ASHES AND HONOR!”

At the yell of his words, Jaycen was met with a wave of cheers from his army, Guard and Legion alike. In the blink of an eye, everything went from frozen disarray to ensuing battle.

Bella reared on her legs as the army slammed hard into their line with new rigor, Andromeda clinging onto his back. As Antares pulled his horse back in panic, he spotted Prince Damian retreating quickly, his spot taken up by his Royal Guard.

That went perfectly well.

Even as the prince’s army attacked from the side, the enemy was still advancing, and fast. His mind racing, Antares kicked Bella back, returning to the deep ranks of the Royal Guard. Yet, somehow, a lone man clad in red seemed to choose them as their target, and charged at them, his mouth twisted in a yell.

“Grab the reins!” Antares yelled to Andromeda, releasing them and swinging his leg over to the side. In one swift motion, he dropped to the ground with a heavy thud and launched himself forward, unsheathing his sword. He met the man, blade at blade, and immediately shed it upward, leaving his abdomen exposed. Without thought, Antares slashed at him, cutting across his stomach in one clean swipe. His sword made a high, whiny peal as it grazed against the edge of the man’s metal plates. The man dropped backwards, clutching his stomach. His howls of pain were barely audible in the chaos.

Anatres took a step back, his heart pounding. An eerie, faint feeling began to creep on him, a strangely familiar one. He hadn't planned any of that, didn’t think anything through. He just…did it. He cut into that man like…like it was nothing. Did he have a family? Friends? Antares looked back to where he had fallen, only to find him gone.

Snap out of it, dammit. Just…just focus.

He brought his sword up, his eyes scanning around him. He couldn’t even tell who was who anymore, their colors the only indication of who was trying to kill him or who wasn’t.

Andromeda.

Antares spun around, frantically searching the chaos around him and almost tripping over the bumpy ground. He had left her alone on Bella, and that horse was in no way trained for battle. Andromeda still wasn’t very skilled in hand-to-hand combat. She had nothing but her bow and arrows.

He had done the one thing Astrid told them not to do.

Antares cursed at himself for his jump.

Something caught the corner of his eye, and he whipped around, jumping back from the swing of a woman in maroon. Her teeth bared at him as she brought her sword back down again, and Antares swung it from underneath, meeting it with his palms facing the sky. It was risky, he knew, but it was all he could manage.

A bark of laughter. The woman pushed harder, clearly toying with him. Antares gritted his teeth and prepared to break into a run, looking into his Gift’s reserves.

Only he couldn’t find it.

The Silmorite.

It was all around him. That strange feeling had grown tenfold, and he recognized it. This woman had Silmorite, and so had the other man. So did the rest of these bastards. He couldn’t feel his Gift at all. He felt suffocated and empty at the same time, and faltered in his hold.

“You feel that?” roared the woman, pushing his sword away with a widening, creepy grin.

There.

A locket—a sickeningly familiar black one—hung around her neck, and the crates filled with reserves of Silmorite beads flashed through his mind.

Antares scrambled back, trying to regain his position. He brought his sword defensively in front of him, gripping it hard. He would just have to do without his Speed.

The woman stilled in front of him, watching him like a venomous snake. She gave her necklace a tug.

“Drop your sword,” she hissed.

Shit. Shit. Persuasion. How was she Persuading him, surrounded by the element? Her command started to wrap around him and his fingers, tugging at them to release. Yet he held tighter, hoping to all the stars he could fight it.

She opened her mouth again, but instead of another command, a shriek replaced it, her grip on him snapping like a thin line of thread. She pitched forward, and Antares jumped back, watching her land on her arms with her sword leaving her grip. Her back revealed a feathered arrow sticking out of it, narrowly missing her spine.

He knew who had an aim like that.

Thank the stars. Again.

Andromeda sat atop Bella a few paces away, her bow in front of her in her bandaged hand and the reins gripped in the other. She held the same blank, slightly horrified face Anatres had seen back with the bandits, but still she reached behind her and slid out another arrow.

Snapping the black locket from the woman’s neck, Antares ran towards her, dodging everyone around him. He could almost feel the thing pulse in his hands, drinking up his Gift with fervor. He tried his best to push the horrible feeling out of his mind.

“Antares,” Andromeda rushed as he reached her, the arrow in her hand almost slipping through her fingers. “What’s going on? What…what is that feeling? It’s so heavy and…”

“Silmorite,” he responded, remembering the first time it washed over him. “Each of them have Silmorite.” He held up the locket in his hands. “They store them in these, with those beads we found, though they’re still somehow able to use their own Gifts.”

“How in all the heavens,” she whispered, staring at the pendant in his hands. Stars, how he wanted to be rid of that cursed thing.

Without opening it, he threw it high over the battle, the string landing somewhere in the chaos. Without the Sofilium, there was no way he could destroy it now. He could only hope it cracked enough under the trampling of people’s feet and their horses.

“Stay on Bella, okay?” he said, locking eyes with her. The poor horse was cut in one place and almost panting. “Fire from here, it’s safer. Just…try not to take anyone head on. Attack from the back, you’ll get more targets that way.”

She nodded, the arrow in her hands brushing against the bowstring. “What about you?”

Antares paused. “‘I’ll be fine. Just stay focused. And…stay near.”

A piercing yell tore his attention away, and Antares spun his head around to see one of the Royal Guards fall from his horse, tumbling to the ground with an arrow in his neck and a spray of red mist.

His gut lurched.

Stay focused. Stay focused.

Someone chose them as a new target: a pair of Ash Court soldiers breaking through the mess in the middle and charging through. Antares prepared himself, but not without one more look to Andromeda.

“Stay safe,” she breathed, before Bella tore off, carrying her towards the back of the Terris Guards.

She had left before he was able to respond.

You stay safe too. Please.

Then with his own yell, Antares charged forward, his sword an extent of his own arm. He was in his element, the very thing he was prepped for from birth without intention.

He entered his game of blades.

His Gift felt like a drained well in his body, but he quickly filled it with adrenaline. The two soldiers surrounded him on either side, but he made the first move, immediately spotting their cursed necklaces. With a swing, he lashed out at Soldier One, tearing into his arm before flipping around and ducking from Soldier Two’s swing. Antares drove his leg out and kicked straight into her knee. Springing back up, he cut his blade into her side, sending her to the ground.

Antares gulped, panting heavily and freezing as he looked at his blade, slick with blood.

A sharp, stinging pain broke out on his left arm, and Anatres whipped around, hissing as the man’s blade left a long, running gash on his bicep, somehow around the places that weren’t covered by his leathers. Ignoring it, he threw a series of slashes at the man, cutting him on his thigh and on his chest between his shining plates. Yet they didn’t do the damage he wanted, and he suspected the man had Endurance. No matter. He continued his barrage, weakening him in places over and over again in blade and hand.

Always return to their wounds, make them worse, his father’s teachings said in his head.

Anatres threw a final punch with his cut arm, sending the soldier back and slamming his head in the ground.

After checking to see he wouldn’t get up again, Antares finally took a look at his arm and winced. The cut was deep and long, snaking around his skin in a wicked red path. He tore a strip of cloth from his shirt, and tied it tight with his teeth. He just had to hold on before he could get to their medicine.

“I swear by the all stars, you’re not getting away, you sick bastard!”

Antares’ head snapped up at the shrill scream, his sword raising on instinct.

Instead, he found Cassiopeia a good distance away with Arcturus, disappearing and reappearing through the mass of colored bodies. They streaked through his line of sight, and he tried to catch who the hell they were chasing as he hastily pushed his curls out of his eyes.

Oh shit.

It was Piere. He was alive? The man ran ahead of the pair, but Antares couldn’t see any other details on him.

Antares’ eyes widened as he watched Cassiopeia throw her spear over her shoulder like a damned lance, arching over the crowd for a brief moment before landing somewhere out of his view.

Get his ass, he thought proudly before turning his attention to another incoming soldier.

This one sported the same necklace, small and gangly as he charged forward with his sword. Anatres got ready, bringing his sword up, sweat coming down the side of his face.

That is, until he met him with the force of two men instead of one.

Strength. Shit.

And it was a considerable amount of the Gift. Antares stumbled back, his sword falling from his opponent’s. In an effort to avoid his attack, he took quick steps to the side, whirling around the man. For someone so small, he pushed with more strength than humanly possible.

Antares could only dance away from him for so long, and the man whipped around with his arm stretched out completely. The blade caught Antares unexpectedly on the stomach, ripping his shirt open and barely grazing his skin. He tried to jump back, but his body was too reliant on his Speed and was failing to find its wanted reserves.

The man swung his fist at Antares, and it painfully connected into his shoulder with more force than he expected. Stumbling back, his foot caught on a tangled part of the ground and sent him to the floor.

Get up, get up, get up! his mind screamed, in tune with the pain in his shoulder.

The bastard didn’t give him the chance to. He appeared above him, and brought his foot on Antares’ wounded arm, the ripped cloth already soaked with his blood. Letting out a strangled yell, Antares struggled to move as he pressed down. His sword pointed underneath Antares’ chin as he froze.

“Trapped,” he murmured softly, sending a shiver through him. His fingers trailed up to his pendant, fiddling with it.

Through the yells and cries of the fighters all around him, Antares could have sworn he had heard a thundering voice in the distance, calling out a faint command.

The man prepared to deliver his final blow, and Antares gritted his teeth, frantically searching for something, anything to get him out. He had nowhere left to go.

Yet as the blade came down, Antares didn’t feel the cold metal pierce his skin. Instead, it hovered over his beating heart, the man looking away with an expression Antares couldn’t read.

He glanced around him. All of the Ash Courters paused in their duels, keeping their opponents stationary similar to himself. The entire battle had just…stopped.

As he lay on the ground, he felt the thundering footsteps of a mighty warhorse riding into the frozen scene. A burly warrior stepped down from the brown horse, his armor marking an even higher status than that of the captain, which, until now, Antares hadn’t thought was possible. His feet pressed into the ground a distance away.

Before he had even gotten a glimpse of his face, Antares knew who it was.

Oberon.

What was he doing here? Councilmen weren’t ever present in the scene of a battle. They kept to themselves in the Courtrooms, and the Guard on the battlefield, keeping themselves safe and letting the others do their military work. It was one of their longest-lasting traditions.

Then again, Oberon didn’t give a shit about tradition, did he?

Antares watched as he walked from his horse, his weapon tucked away at his side. All was quiet as he strode through the mass of people, somehow finding a path made just for him. He approached Prince Damian in the back, the Ash Courters spreading out to make way for whatever was about to happen.

Antares could do nothing but lay there. Watching. Waiting.

Then Oberon began to speak, his voice echoing throughout the field.

“Prince Damian of Ophelia,” he greeted.

“Councilman Oberon,” the prince replied uneasily above his horse. Had he even stepped off to fight?

“I see you’ve come with your Royal Guard. For what purpose, might I ask?”

“To stop you of course.” His voice was laced with clear fear. “You are invading another Court’s territory, and it is a great offense to this prosperous nation. All of you are nothing but great cowards and fools!”

A chorus of dreadful chuckles rang out among the Ash soldiers. Even Oberon snickered at that remark.

“Cowards? Oh, no. You are quite mistaken,” he said. “In fact, we may be the only courageous ones in this entire damned kingdom. The Ash Court truly is the strongest coalition of Gifts—our power cannot be matched. It is only our duty then, to overthrow the other Courts in this feeble system, establishing ourselves as the sovereign power. Only then will this nation be prosperous. You and your band of weakling Courts can do nothing but watch and burn.”

The prince flinched, unsure of what to say.

“However,” Oberon began again, “I can offer you a deal, Your Highness. As we can clearly see, you are desperately outnumbered. My men can take your entire cavalry within the second if I give them the word. But…I take it you are a Persuader?”

Prince Damian said nothing.

“I am offering you a valuable proposition, Prince Damian of Ophelia. Join the Ash Court, your Court, in our glorious endeavours, and we shall spare you as you keep your status. Learn the ways of our Silmorite and how to wield it, while still able to conserve your own abilities.” At that remark, Oberon pulled out a necklace from under his armor, showing it toyingly.

“Refuse, and we shall slay you along with your company, and all the other decrepit Courts. It is your choice.”

“No!” someone shouted, though Antares couldn’t tell who. There was no way he would accept Oberon’s deal. He was the Prince of Ophelia. How could he betray his own people?

Antares’ thoughts were proven foolish as the prince gave his answer, loud and clear.

“I accept.”