Kingdom of Zuland, Morag Mountain Pass, Present day.
The walls of the carriage shook abruptly as the wheels met with stones in the road.
"Are we almost there?" echoed Sara for the seventh time.
Svarga leaned into his hand as he sat back in the cushioned seat. "Be a bit more patient. Once we're through the mountain pass, we'll be in Blaika."
Sara scoffed.
"I thought we agreed you'd practice molding other steels?" he said sternly.
"I can liquify iron and mold it as I see fit. Why bother suffering through trying to mold another?"
"Don't take your aptitude for aura lightly. Many don't have the gift of magic conjuration."
"Naturally. Aura isn't given to the weak," she retorted.
"Well, even less of them can wield a sword effectively. With your current skill of a sword and joined with your aura, you'd be a formidable opponent. A ruler trains their mind and body alike. Having more options at your disposal on the battlefield can be massive advantage if executed correctly. Now, in the palace, your weapons are your words and knowledge. I believe you still need to hone both."
Sara raised an eyebrow. "Do I?" she said as she rolled her eyes. "Do you believe that I'm childish enough to be swayed so easily?"
Svarga sighed. "Childish? That's the second time you've plowed that word into your speech. I never said 'childish'. Anyone can be swayed with the right motivation, not just children." His lips curved into a thin smile. "Take me for example. There was a time, I'd do anything for a beautiful woman. I'd oblige to stealing the Zuland throne if it meant a pretty smile was my recompense." He broke eye contact and continued on. "Hmmm, how many times have I awoken in a distant stable with only half my clothes and bottle of wine in my grasp?" He chuckled. "Well, the only ones worth remembering are the times I had a woman to warm the hay. Ah, the joys of youth."
Sara shared a glance with Myn who had remained quiet throughout the ride. "Youth? I doubt you're older than forty seasons, Svarga. You haven't even sprouted grey hairs. So, how old are you exactly?"
"No—Don't change the topic. We were assessing how you should be better prepared. When your life was threatened back on the river. You were quick to offer up your life trying to save mine…which I deeply appreciate." His smile had faded. "But your life is more important than mine. Honor is reputable trait, but there are times where you may have to abandon it if it means your life is on gambit table. If you honed your skills, you'd find yourself in these situations less often."
Sara leaned on a balled fist. "Just like father said…" she mumbled. "Power is a most valuable asset."
"Strength," retorted Svarga. "Not power, there's a difference."
Strength, power, two words, the same meaning.
A loud croak came from outside followed by gurgles as the carriage came to a stop.
Myn growled as moved the curtain aside.
The window shattered as an arrow pierced through and dug into Myn's shoulder.
"Myn!" yelled Sara as her throat went dry.
Unfazed, the kasaber snapped the projectile before covering Sara from another volley of incoming arrows.
Svarga kicked the carriage door from its hinges as kept his head low. "Myn! Get her out of here!"
Sara's heart thumped against Myn's tight grip as he hugged her close and rolled out onto the hard soil. There was little ground to remain on seeing as they were on a narrow road on a rocky hillside.
The hurricane of arrows came to a halt.
"Princess Sara!" yelled a voice from the other side of the carriage. "We know it was you within the carriage."
Sara broke away from Myn while remaining behind the carriage. The man's voice carried an accent she didn't fully recognize.
"We know you still live, speak and perhaps we can bargain and allow your subjects to live."
Svarga shook his head from inside the carriage.
Sara's ears grew warm as the current situation incited the memory of what had happened at Lougras. She had grown tired of hiding and feeling afraid. She was the heir to throne and royalty, not to be hiding from cowards behind an ambush. "Yes!" she yelled back. "I live!" She liquified her shoulder guard, the liquid steel quickly took the form of a blade. "I am the daughter of Ryker and Odalis Eshlon, heiress to the throne, and the last attribute I expect from an assassin is mercy!" Her voice grew louder with every word. "The only bargain you should wish for is for your lives!"
Myn and Svarga shared glances.
Sara's stomach riled with a mix of fear and newfound morale. She gave them a nod.
Below them, down a steep slope was the abandoned village of Blaika. On the other side of the carriage was an elevated hillside. Their attackers held the higher ground here. Their only option of escape would be down the hill and into the village before they were surrounded.
"You are a brave lamb; it is a shame that you stand in the way of our people's rise to ascension."
Our? Sara tilted her head towards the Blaika, her companions nodded as they shared in her idea. In unison they dashed down the hill. Sara leaned back, occasionally catching herself on the small patches grass that dotted the slope. Loosened soil gave way under their feet, forcing them to slow their decent.
A loud collection of footsteps came from behind them followed by another flurry of arrows fired by a dozen cloaked men.
Sara reformed her blade into a shield just in time to block the incoming arrows. She quickly split it in two, using both fragments to shield her companions.
"You won't escape, Sara of Zuland," said the man at the vanguard of the men.
Sara grimaced as she struggled to keep her balance, but her morale didn't falter as they neared the bottom of the hill.
The village came into view, it was smaller than she remembered. Roughly thirty homes spread evenly from one another in a circle. The straw rooftops were aged covered in dust as the stone foundations were plagued with cracks and fractures. At the center was a dried well.
Sara leapt down, breaking her fall on a surprisingly soft rooftop. She rolled off and landed firmly on her feet.
Myn and Svarga followed suit.
"Keep going, we need to make more distance," ordered Svarga.
"No," said Sara. "I'm done running. I'm done allowing others to do my fighting."
A thin stream of blood dripped down Myn's chest as he nodded in agreement.
Svarga sighed, beaten. "Very well." He slid his hands into his cestuses and tightened the straps as he smiled. "Let's show them the strength of the north."
Sara moved to the center of the ghost town as she liquified her remaining shoulder guard into a blade that took it place on her outer arm.
The crowd of men followed behind them, jumping from the slope onto the rooftops. They all wore tattered cloaks over tan leather armor. It was clear that they were not from the north. Unlike the rest, their leader displayed his face openly. He was bald and had dark skin outdone only by his coal beard. A brass bident hung on his back. "It is fitting that you meet your end here." He spread out his arms. "This was the home of your mother, was it not?"
Sara gasped lightly.
"Ah, yes. The home of glass crafters, if you had remained here and weren't born of noble blood, things would have been different. But seeing as you're the obstacle that stands in the way of our people. You must die."
Sara stepped forward. "Who are you? Are you with the ones responsible for the deaths of my people at Lougras?"
"Lougras?" he turned to one of his men and back to her. "You mean the town of Sember? No, me and mine had no hand in their murders. Those people are a prime example of your weakness to lead." He took hold of his bident and pointed it at her. "We only seek an end to your life, and no one else."
Sara exhaled heavily as she grimaced. She had grown tired of all the threats and the people behind them. Then she felt it, the sense of steel.
The leader raised his free hand, his men quickly pulled readied their arrows. "This is the end." He closed his fist. The men loosened their arrows.
It felt as time itself slowed as Sara's grasp on their steel heightened. She felt the mass of every arrow; they were made of iron. How it eluded her before didn't matter, all that mattered that they were hers to wield now.
The wave of arrows didn't falter.
"No!" echoed the voice of Svarga.
Sara exhaled and within a blink all of the arrows froze in place, the arrowheads molded into a ball of liquid at her command.
The feather-tailed sticks fell to the ground.
"How did she do that?" exclaimed one of the men.
"We were not warned of the caliber of her power," said another.
Their distraught fed Sara's confidence as she smiled.
Their leader put up his hand. "Silence. I will take care of the princess. The rest of you kill her guards. I, Fallaj of the Red Sands will face you now, heiress." He leapt off the roof landed in front of her.
Svarga and Myn stepped forward.
"No," commanded Sara. He's mine. I want this."
Fallaj dashed towards her.
Sara molded the steel from their arrows into four thin spears that levitated above her. She flung the first two at her nearing attacker.
Fallaj sidestepped and ducked under the attacks without losing speed. He leapt and went for a thrust.
Sara used her remaining spears and drove them into the ground in an X shape, blocking the attack.
Fallaj quickly leapt through the gap above them and went for a kick.
Sara blocked it using her shield as she retreated. Iron met brass as she blocked his rapid slashes. Unlike her sparring sessions, she felt envigored by the threat of death. That vigor was multiplied every time she managed to block or dodge an incoming attack.
"Impressive, heiress—but you won't win this fight by retreating." Fallaj went for a diagonal slash.
Sara blocked it, though her confidence was cut as a heavy kick landed on her stomach. She stumbled back while clutching her gut, gasping for air. He had dug his bident into the ground and used it for support to land a double-footed kick.
Fallaj quickly spun around and swung his bident, tossing a cloud of dirt into her eyes.
Sara managed to shield her eyes. She gasped as Fallaj went for another thrust. She winced as the sharpened spearhead cut deep into her side. Her lips quivered as she barely succeeded in blocking another thrust.
"This is the end, heiress." Fallaj landed another successful blow to her abdomen.
Sara crashed through the wood walls of a home and landed on the hard floor. She coughed aloud as she panted heavily. Her blade and shield splattered back into liquid.
The home was dusty and dark with the only light being the fraction of sunshine that leaked into the home from the cavity she had created.
Fallaj cast a long shadow as he stood at the hole in the wall. Glass crunched under his boot as he stepped into the home.
Sara eyed the home as old memories returned to her. She recognized the layout; it was her mother's old home. She attempted to sit up but was met with a heavy backhand.
Fallaj brought his bident down, pinning her wrist between the prongs.
Glass shattered as one of the glass figures fell from a nearby shelf.
Fallaj panted lightly. "It will be written that Sara, Heiress of Zuland, fought valiantly." He unsheathed a dagger from his belt.
Sara's eyes were warm as she turned to the shattered figure. It may have been only a fragment, but she recognized it well. It was a glass bird her mother had made for her as a gift for her eighth birth ceremony. It was winter then, it was cold, but she remembered drinking hot cream as her mother gave it to her. But why were these memories coming back now? She felt a dagger of guilt pierce her as she remembered her mother's embrace. She wanted to apologize for how she acted, ask for her forgiveness and vow to cherish her company more. Her guilt turned into ambition as it reignited her flame of anger. I won't die here! I'll come back to you mother… She looked up at her assailant as sweat trickled down her cheek. With her remaining strength she willed the steel on the floor into a sharpened leaf. Like a gust of wind, she flung the leaf at his heel, cutting deep into his achilleas.
Fallaj yelled aloud before losing his balance and crashing to the floor.
Sara took no second for granted as she climbed on top of the slim man and pinned his arm with her knee. She quickly took hold of the sparrow and used the sharpened glass to cut slit his throat.
Fallaj's eyes flickered, gagging aloud as a deep red stream of blood oozed out of the fresh wound.
Sara felt a wave of content come over her as the life faded from his eyes. She dropped the red-tinted bird. "Now…" She panted. "It's over."