Chapter Twenty-Four

Katanes, Baronial Palace

The warning sirens were still blazing in Arta’s ears as she finished pulling her armor on and buckling her dueling sword around her waist. Glancing around the changing room, she saw Karani and Latharna doing the same, the latter wearing a borrowed suit she’d found in the palace armory that fit her. The three young women nodded grimly at each other and then stepped out into the corridor outside, where the royal guards fell into step around them as they hurried through the halls and eventually arrived at the palace’s situation room.

It wasn’t a room Arta had been in often – as Katanes had never been attacked before during her lifetime, it was generally kept sealed – and to be inside it now felt rather underwhelming. The room was fairly small, dominated by a central table above which now hovered a holographic projection of Tannen City. The Baron stood at one end, dressed in his own armor, something Arta had seldom seen him wear but which suited him surprisingly well; beside him was Danash, who not being a fighter or commander himself was dressed in one of his usual suits. Several officers Arta vaguely recognized from functions the baronial family had attended over the years were gathered around the table, and she wasn’t surprised to see Shiran standing quietly off to one side.

When Arta and her companions entered the room, all eyes turned towards them – and then, to Arta’s surprise and embarrassment, everyone bowed. “Your Majesty,” Danash said, seeming to speak for the entire group; Arta wasn’t sure how to react to receiving such deference from someone who’d known her when she’d been a toddler.

A sudden jostle at her side indicated that Karani had just surreptitiously elbowed her, and Arta straightened. “At ease,” she said. Lord, that sounded right, didn’t it? “Report. What’s going on here?”

“In short, Tannen City is under attack,” Danash said, gesturing to the hologram. “Having failed at direct frontal assault, Duke Respen appears to have decided to take another approach. Leaving his surviving Equestrians in hiding behind the farther moon, he dispatched a small squadron of fighters, gunships and bombers, which managed to circle around our own fleet and enter the atmosphere undetected. About half an hour ago, they began bombing runs on the city.”

Karani gave a sudden, sharp gasp, and it was all Arta could do to keep from doing the same. A queen is calm, she told herself. A queen is in control; a queen always knows what to do. Finally, she trusted herself to speak. “What sort of damage are we looking at?” she said. “What about casualties?”

Danash frowned. “That’s just it,” he said. “The casualties and damage are noticeably less than anticipated, according to our reports from the city militia. Even considering the small size of the bombing squadron and the fact that militia and city constabulary have scrambled flitters to hold them off, the invaders could be doing much worse than they are. According to reports, the bombings have mostly been limited to streets and open spaces – they’re not making much of an attempt to collapse buildings or government structures. And they don’t seem to have started the worst of the attack until after most of the population were in shelters.”

“That seems… odd,” Karani said, breaking in. “I mean, Respen showing restraint? Doesn’t seem his style.”

“It’s not,” the Baron said, frowning. “That’s why I doubt he’s with this squadron; whoever’s in command, they’re not nearly so bloodthirsty. Even so, I’m not sure what they’re trying to accomplish here. At this rate, they’ll never take the city or manage to force the local government to surrender…”

And suddenly, Arta understood. “Because they’re not trying to,” she said. “This is a diversion. They’re not trying to destroy Tannen City; they’re just trying to make us pay attention to what they’re doing there…”

“My Lord, Your Majesty,” one of the officers said suddenly, looking up from his wrist comm. “Local militia reports another squadron of Aurann and Sakran ships has entered the atmosphere near Tannen! They’re not reinforcing the ships at the city, though, they’re on a course that will take them… here.” He looked around the room, expression grim. “They’ll be here in minutes.”

“What sort of ships?” Danash demanded.

The officer had a hurried exchange with whoever was on the other end of his comm and looked up again. “Fighters, bombers,” he said, “and two larger ships that appear to be troop transports.”

“Activate the palace shields!” the Baron said, suddenly tense. “And order our troops to the landing platforms, now. I don’t want any of them to get through!”

“My lord, I don’t think we can raise the shields on time,” the other officer said. “And the palace has always been lightly defended – we’ve never had to hold off a determined invasion in its entire history. I’m sorry, my lord, but I don’t know if we can hold.”

“We will,” Arta said, voice firm. “I will reinforce our defenses with my own guards. If Respen takes the palace, he takes Katanes, and as your Queen – and as a Katannen – I will not let that happen. The troop ships will have to dock at the landing platform at the north tower – it’s the only one big enough for them. I’ll take my guards and reinforce the defenders there.”

“Your guards and me,” Karani said firmly. “You are not leaving me behind; not again.”

“I’m going too,” Latharna said.

“And I,” said Shiran suddenly, his calm voice seeming to dominate the room without effort. “I’m no knight, but I might be of some assistance.”

“Your Majesty,” the first Katannen officer – Rossan, that was his name, Arta finally remembered, Colonel Rossan – said, “is this really wise? The enemy is here for you – are you sure you want to risk yourself?”

“I doubt Lieutenant Rehan will permit me to fight if it can be avoided,” Ara said. “But I’m not going to cower like some Imperial patrician and let others fight my battles for me. You’re right – I’m the one Respen wants. And if I can pull his attention towards me, then it’s taken away from hurting anyone else.” She smiled then, a strangely calm, cold smile that she thought must make her resemble Midaia. “And I’ll make sure he gets more than what he bargained for.”

From across the room, Arta could see Shiran nodding approvingly.

///

“We’re approaching the entry point now, my lord,” the pilot of the drop ship reported; from where he stood behind him, holding tight onto one of the loops that hung from the craft’s ceiling, Darius glanced at his siblings and nodded.

“Excellent,” he said; looking over the pilot’s shoulders, he could see the shimmering towers of the Katanes palace grow larger in front of them. It was a beautiful structure, he thought, and he found himself again regretting the part he and his family had played in bringing war to this planet.

Their target was one a landing platform on the palace’s northern tower – based on their reports, it was big enough to hold both of their drop ships and would therefore make an ideal beachhead from which to send their troops into the palace. It was also an obvious target, and so Darius knew to expect resistance. There would be battle soon.

“You really think Artakane will be there?” Galen asked from beside him, his tone dark and heavy with anticipation.

“I’d wager good money on it,” Darius said. “It’s what I’d do.”

“And we know the girl has courage, no matter what else you can say about her,” Tariti said. “Are we ready for this?”

“I am,” Darius said, giving a wry smile that didn’t entirely have his heart in it. “And remember, everyone – we need to make this look good.”

Even as he finished speaking, the small, stealthy craft that had been clinging to the drop ship’s underbelly detached itself; as the drop ships approached the north tower it hid in their shadow, and then dipped lower and turned vertical, attaching itself with its landing claws to the tower’s side. The lasers on the craft’s underbelly hummed to life as it began to cut an opening, and the handful of elite Aurannian commandos who rode within braced themselves for the mission that was now about to commence.

The tiny craft didn’t hold more than a half-dozen troops, in addition to the pilot. But for what they intended tonight, that would be enough.

///

Arta and her guard squadron reached the landing platform just as the first of the Aurannian troop ships touched down; a ramp opened in its belly and a squad of troopers marched out, fully armored and with beam rifles held at the ready. Under Lieutenant Rehan’s direction, the royal guards took up their positions on either side of the great doors leading from the platform into the main palace, keeping out of the invaders’ line of sight and raising their own weapons in silent expectation. Arta stood behind the lieutenant, having just put her helmet on and hand nervously drumming on the hilt of her dueling sword; across the way, she could see Latharna and Karani doing the same. Shiran stood beside her, holding no visible weapon but with his head bowed as if in deep thought; Arta didn’t know if anyone else could sense it, but she could almost feel the energy gathering around him as the old Adept prepared to unleash it.

The Aurannian troopers approached the doors warily, clearly expecting trouble. Rehan waited, allowing them to get close, and then nodded sharply to the other guards who waited on the other side of the doors. They returned her gesture, and then, as one, they leapt out into the corridor, rifles raised, and opened fire.

The landing platform dissolved into chaos. The Aurannians were startled for a moment but then returned fire, spraying the corridor with blast beams. Several of them had fallen, but Arta could see at least one of them pulling himself back to his feet, his armor having apparently taken the worst of the blast. The guards ducked back under cover, keeping the barrels of their weapons pointed around the edges of the door and squeezing off shots when they could; Arta felt a stabbing pain in her heart as she saw three bodies in guard uniforms lying on the floor, still. They had died so suddenly… had died for her. She would ask Rehan for their names later, she resolved, and she would never forget.

The skirmish had become a stalemate, the Aurannians unable to advance into the palace but the guards unable to drive them back into their ship. Then, suddenly, Arta felt her heart sink as she saw the second troop ship coming in to land beside the first; if the invaders doubled the number of troops at their disposal, they could sweep away the defenders with ease. Suddenly, she felt a warm hand on her shoulder. “Leave this to me,” Shiran said.

He strode out into the center of the corridor and approached the doors, as unconcerned as if walking down a city street on a pleasant summer day; several of the Aurannians opened fire, perhaps feeling that this old man would be an easy target, but their blasts impacted harmlessly on a shield no one could see, leaving only a faint, pale blue shimmer in the air. The troopers glanced at each other; though their expressions couldn’t be seen behind their opaque faceplates, they seemed uncertain.

Shiran reached the doors and raised his hands; the second troop ship was just about to land when it was suddenly seized and held fast, pale blue tendrils of light wrapping around its landing gear. Shiran stood immobile, the faint sheen of sweat on his face as he exerted every ounce of his formidable will, and then he thrust both hands forward, palms out. The blue light flared brighter, and then the troop ship was hurled backward with incredible force, flying off the platform and slamming hard into the nearest of the mountains, where it exploded in a sudden burst of orange fire.

Arta stared, stunned – she couldn’t imagine the amount of force it must have taken to move something so large with such power. Around her, everyone else seemed to be even more astounded; not being Adepts, they’d had no understanding of what sorts of power Shiran might command. Karani was staring at her old tutor, open-mouthed expression clearly visible through her transparent visor; beside her, Latharna shook her head as if not believing what she’d just seen. Around them, the weapons of both the royal guards and Aurannians fell silent, as if they were trying to process what had just happened. Beside Arta, Lieutenant Rehan shook her head. “I’ll be damned,” she breathed.

Shiran, however, was not unaffected by his feat; he fell to one knee, breathing heavily. “That,” he murmured, “weighed rather a lot.” Slowly standing, he made his way back over to the shelter behind the door, neither side attempting to stop his passage. Once under cover, he leaned against the wall and sank to the floor.

“Are you all right?” Ara asked.

“Yes,” Shiran said, still breathing deeply. “Just tired. That took a lot out of me, I’m afraid.”

“That was impressive, I’ll admit,” a familiar voice said suddenly, “but I don’t think the old man has another of those in him, and there’s still enough of us that you’re not going to be able to win this without taking more losses. And I don’t think you want to do that, do you, Arta?”

Arta stiffened. “What do you want, Darius?” she called back; sticking her head around the door, she could see all three ast Sakran siblings emerging from the intact troop ship, red-and-gold armor gleaming and Darius in the lead. “Gloating isn’t really your style. You usually leave that to Galen.”

Galen started angrily at the comment, but Darius held up a hand. “I thought you’d be here, Arta,” he said. “I didn’t think you’d let your guards die for you while you stayed safe; honestly, that doesn’t sit too well with me either. So, I’ll propose a deal. We settle this like gentlemen and gentlewomen; you and two companions of your choice versus me and my siblings. I win, you surrender and come with us. You win, we leave and don’t come back.”

“And the attack on the city?” Arta asked. “Will that stop as well?”

“Of course,” Darius said. “Duke Respen has given me command of the ground mission; if I call off the bombers, they’ll retreat as well.”

After a brief pause, Arta nodded. “All right,” she said. “I agree. You have a deal.”

“I’m going with her,” Karani shouted. “It’s my planet too. And I owe Galen for a broken leg.”

“This is madness,” Lieutenant Rehan hissed in Arta’s ear. “Do you really think he’ll honor his word? It’s a trap! Let me go in your place.”

“No,” Arta said. “I don’t think so. Darius is honorable, or at least he wants people to see him that way. I don’t think that kind of trick is in his character. And I can’t back out now, or let someone else fight in my place, not in front of everyone. I’d be shamed in front of the whole Kingdom for the rest of my life if I did that.”

Rehan muttered something under her breath, a disgusted exclamation that sounded like it could have been “nobles!” Then she looked up at Arta and nodded. “At least let me be your third fighter,” she said.

“I’m sorry, but I need the best swordswoman I know,” Arta said, and looked across the hall. “Latharna, are you with me?”

Latharna nodded. “I am.” Together, she, Arta and Karani stepped out from the cover of the doors and marched forward onto the landing platform, where the ast Sakrans waited for them, surrounded by a semicircle of Aurannian troops.

“Three of them, three of us,” Karani said, drawing her sword and activating it. The blade came to life with a thrum. “I like those odds.” Arta and Latharna drew their swords as well; across from them, the ast Sakrans did the same. The flickering sparks of six dueling swords flashed in the Katannen night.

“It’s not too late to back down,” Darius said.

“Not today,” Arta replied, and then battle was joined.

Arta charged for Darius, but found her way blocked by a slighter figure; his sister Tariti, by reputation nearly as good. Arta had seen her fight at the tournament, though she hadn’t faced her in person, and she’d believe that assessment. Their swords met with a hiss and then they separated, dancing back from each other and circling warily, eyeing one another and trying to find each other’s weaknesses.

Nearby, Karani faced Galen, both of their expressions hard. Arta remembered the last time they’d fought – Galen had won, but Karani had insisted he’d cheated, using his sword on a higher power setting than tournament rules allowed. Tonight was no tournament, and there were no rules, and Karani intended to have her revenge. Darius and Latharna, meanwhile, simply stood facing one another, swords at the ready but as of yet making no move to attack – two prodigies taking one another’s measure, each regarding the other as a worthy foe. The cut on Latharna’s cheek from where Darius had struck her in their earlier encounter was just visible near the edge of her helmet.

Then Tariti was on her again, forcing her back with a series of swift strokes that Arta parried just in time. “Darius has a soft spot for you,” the ast Sakran girl hissed. “And Galen nurses a nasty grudge which keeps him from thinking straight. But not me. And that means you’re mine, Artakane.”

Arta locked her blade with Tariti’s and forced her back, both dueling swords hissing and sparking. “Not tonight,” Arta hissed. “Not tonight and not ever.” In terms of strength they were evenly matched, neither able to gain the advantage over the other as they struggled against each other. Arta could see her own determined expression reflected on her enemy’s face.

Then Tariti looked over Arta’s shoulder and her eyes widened. Forcing her around, Arta managed to see what had gotten her attention – Karani had forced Galen back and landed a hard kick directly to his torso, sending him sprawling to the platform. “That was for our match at the tournament, you cheating bastard,” she hissed, holding her sword to his throat.

“Galen!” Tariti cried, distracted, and in that moment, Arta slammed her shoulder into her body, knocking Tariti hard to the ground. She advanced slowly, sword raised, when Darius disengaged from Latharna and sprang in front of her, sword raised. Behind him, Tariti scrambled to her feet and rushed to Galen’s aid, while Latharna took up her position beside Karani.

“So, I guess it’s you and me, one-on-one again, after all,” Darius said. “And I think we both know I’m better than you are.”

“I’ve never denied it,” Arta said raising her blade and beginning to circle him warily. “But maybe I’ll get lucky tonight.”

“You wish,” Darius said and then he struck, the two of them trading a quick series of blows before he stepped back, nodding. “You are good, though. I’ve known that ever since Carann. And I knew I could get you to come out and fight to spare your troops. I can respect that. I’m sorry we have to be enemies.”

“No, we don’t,” Arta said. “Your father is my enemy, and Respen is my enemy, but you’re not either of them. I used to think you were a better man than your father – the gallant Darius ast Sakran, the perfect knight. Maybe I was wrong.”

Darius shook his head. “It doesn’t matter whether I’m better or worse than he is,” he said. “He’s my father; everything he does is for our family, and the ast Sakrans stand as one.”

“Is your family pride really worth all of this?” Arta demanded. “Three duchies in open revolt, a loyalist planet conquered and occupied, an alliance with a maniac like Respen who’d have happily burned Katanes to ash if we hadn’t stopped him, bombing a city and attacking my home – is your father’s ambition really such a worthy cause that you feel like sticking by him when he does things like this?” Then she paused, something Shiran had said earlier coming back to her. “Or is it even Naudar’s ambition at all – does someone else hold his strings? Does the mighty Duke of Sakran dance to the Empire’s tune?”

Darius froze. “What?” he asked, his voice uncertain, and Arta realized she’d struck him a blow worse than the stroke of any sword. He knows, she realized. Or at least suspected, and now I’ve confirmed it.

“You’re all tools,” she said, pressing on. “I don’t know whose, and I don’t know why, but I think we both know this isn’t really your father’s war anymore, if it ever was. Is that really something worth fighting for?”

Darius shook his head. “I don’t know anymore,” he said, “but this ends now.” Raising his blade, he charged, but his stroke was wild – Arta’s words had rattled him, badly. Arta ducked under the blow and planted her palm firmly on his armored chest. There was a flash of deep blue light, and Darius went flying across the platform and collapsed at his siblings’ feet.

“Darius!” Tariti shouted, ducking under Latharna’s blade to grab her brother under the arms and pull him to his feet; beside her, Galen was falling back, his armor scored by repeated blows from Karani’s sword. “Can you keep fighting?” Tairit asked, her face lowered close to her brother’s ear.

Darius looked up at Arta and shook his head. “No,” he said. “We’re done here. Call off the attack.”

“My lord,” one of the Aurann troopers said, “you can’t be serious…”

“Do it!” Darius shouted and then began to walk back towards the troop ship, Tariti supporting him and Galen following behind, shooting a murderous look at Karani over his shoulder. The Aurannian officer muttered something under his breath that might have been a curse, and then gestured for his men to follow them.

“Should we go after them?” Karani asked, watching them go.

“They held up their end; let them go,” Arta said. And I gave Darius something to chew on, at least, she said. He just might end up more valuable to us where he is than in a prison cell here.

The troop ship’s ramp closed and then, almost sullenly, it took off; as it sped off into the sky, Latharna hurried forward and wrapped her arms around Arta’s neck. “We won!” she breathed. “You were incredible!”

“You, too,” Arta replied, feeling her cheeks warm at the compliment; Latharna pulled back as Shiran approached, still looking weary, followed by Lieutenant Rehan, who was shaking her head in bemusement.

“Nice work,” the Professor said.

“Thank you,” Arta replied, then raised her wrist and activated her wrist comm. “Father,” she said, “it’s over! The Aurannians are pulling back. Are they withdrawing their bombers from the city?”

Nothing but static answered, and Arta felt a sudden dread in the pit of her stomach. “Something’s wrong,” she whispered. Turning, she left the platform at a sprint, heading for the situation room, her companions struggling to keep up behind her.

///

The situation room was a shamble, its walls scored with beam fire. Colonel Rassan was dead, slumped on the floor; Danash was still alive, sitting weakly in his chair as the other officer from the meeting earlier was cleaning a wound in his shoulder.

The Baron was nowhere to be seen.

“What happened?” Arta asked weakly.

“They came not long after you left,” Danash said. “Aurannian commandos; they burst through the door, heavily armed. And they got what they came for. The attack on the platform was a diversion. Your Majesty – Arta – they took him. They took Varas.”

Arta felt her heart drop away; she swayed where she stood, and Latharna put a comforting arm around her shoulder. Beside her she could hear Karani whispering “No, no, no, no, no,” repeatedly under her breath. The whole shape of the scheme suddenly appeared in Arta’s mind, and she realized she’d been fooled completely. The bombings at Tannen City had been a diversion, yes, but so had the attack at the platform. Darius hadn’t been trying to break into the palace, or even capture Arta – just keep her busy. He’d had another team ready to accomplish his true objective all along. Arta suddenly found herself desperately wishing she’d shoved her sword right through his smug, perfect face.

Rehan walked over to the table in the center of the room and pulled up the hologram display. “Well, it looks like Darius was as good as his word, in any case,” she said. “The bombers are withdrawing from the city.”

“Of course, they are,” Karani muttered, voice thick. “He got what he wanted, didn’t he? You shouldn’t have let him go, Arta. I wish you’d taken his head off.”

“We never saw their ship approach, or leave,” Danash said. “It must have been a stealth ship; Aurann made, no doubt. If only we’d been able to track it, if only we’d been ready to do something…” his voice trailed off.

The hologram suddenly crackled, and the image of Tannen City vanished, replaced by the lean, hawklike features of Duke Respen. Karani hissed angrily, but Arta simply stared ahead, unblinking. “Pretender Artakane,” Respen said. “By now you have no doubt realized that I have your adoptive father in my custody. Don’t worry; he’s perfectly safe with me, currently en route to my Citadel on Aurann, where he’ll be given the finest protection. He shall continue to be safe so long as you comply with my demands.”

“What do you want, cousin?” Arta hissed, finding her voice at last.

Respen smiled coldly. “You will abdicate your throne, surrendering all your authority to me, your true king. I know this must be hard for you, but I am not devoid of compassion – you have a week to think it over. If, by the end of that time, you still refuse me, your father’s life is forfeit – as are the lives of the people of Tantos III. I am done playing games with you, girl. Fail to act, and after I execute the Baron ast Katanes my forces will rain destruction upon Tantos Duchy until it is nothing but ash. But you can stop it, Pretender – their fate is in your hands. Uncrown yourself, and their lives will be spared. You have one week.” Respen’s image flickered and vanished.

Arta slumped into a nearby chair, staring silently ahead, every aspect of her being suffused with utter defeat and horror.