Nectar of War: The Song of Verity and Serenity (The Nectar of War Series Book 1)

LAVEN HEPHAESTUS ARVENALDI, II

Did Ivella speak of Ethivon with you?” Levora asks. “You should tell her that it is no longer an option to travel to them.”

“We spoke of Ethivon on Summer Solstice. They are now a Court of New Quamfasi—they needed growth in numbers after the wars, so who better to ask than the two largest and strongest nations outside of us? With Nadrexi and Ethivon on their side, New Quamfasi has enough power to overtake us and rule again.” Although, I doubt that is anywhere near what Vallehes and Penelope want. Vaigon may hold the graves of their ancestors, but the trauma of living on this land again is too strong for them to return.

I decide against telling them of Vaigon and Vorzantu. I will only tell them if Ivella wants me to. If she did not tell anyone other than me of them, I am sure it is not my place to tell my brothers.

The door of my study opens to my mother, and we look to her, wondering if she bears any news of Lorsius. Behind her, Nyt and Salem leisurely follow behind.

“I will tell you now that I know Lorsius’s word is not final. He knows well enough that without all of you he will not be able to rule strongly.” She begins.

“Did he say that?” Morano asks as Nyt sits next to him. Morano looks down at him and smiles. “You know, I like you. We are alike but in very different ways.” He pokes Nyt’s nose and his tail begins to wag from side to side.

My mother smiles and shakes her head. “No, he did not, but after our screaming match, I could tell he is worried.”

“What of all the training we put in place for the Mandem’s in our Courts? Did he just stop it and revoke that as well?” Amias questions.

“They need this training desperately, Apolla.” Hua stresses. “He cannot revoke this.”

“That I did not allow him to have a say in, we must continue to train and prepare for war. It is hard to ignore what is in the air, the attacks of rogues have minimized but there could be specific reasoning behind that.”

I nod in agreement. “I was thinking of this the other night when I gathered how quiet it has been for the past month regarding the rogues. The more the rogues flood our nation, the more ways we find to kill them. If their numbers are too short they will never be capable of holding their end of the war to win. When we go to see Stravan I will be sure this is the first thing we speak of.” There is no time to waste if they are gaining their numbers.

“May I?” Phyv asks raising a hand.

I nod.

“It could be perilous; however, you should still hold a meeting with the High Queens and High Kings of all realms. We should not risk one of the Leaders being the person who created this plague and hearing our resolutions, but it will be worth it to have a deeper alliance than within only our realm.”

“We can have this meeting safely,” Morano speaks. “I will go to the conference in the form of a servant to Laven and rummage through their minds.”

My mother shows the approval of this on her face. “Will we tell them to invite their Circles as well? Would that not be too many minds to barricade through?”

“I will do fine,” Morano assures her. “Invite everyone and their Circles, act quickly.”

“Do you forget that we were just stripped of our say in matters as this?” Amias sarcastically speaks and my eyes cut at him.

“Lorsius does not need to know what we do; he will thank me for this later.”

Amias turns to my mother. “Will we be given our say back?”

“Soon enough, I believe so. And I know you will be given tasks and duties again. He is not strong enough to do this on his own. He has no Right Hand to help him, I am sure word will be sent asking all of you to help him with something.”

Roaner’s eyebrow raises, agreeing with my mother.

“We will not dine with him.” Amias declares. “At least I will not.”

“None of us will. I will ask Mrs. Patro to bring our afternoon meal and supper here.” I say relieving us all of a torturous dinner with Lorsius.

“Do what you wish.” My mother says placing a hand on my cheek. “Lorsius always will, and so will you. It is only fair.”

“Ma Apolla, how do you feel about murder?” Morano asks.

She only smiles at him and waves a finger before leaving the study.

“Was that a yes?” Morano questions.

Amias throws a bulky book at him from the shelf and Roaner stills the book midair. He walks toward it, grabbing it from the air, and places it back on the shelf.

“Throw a dagger, not a book. Have some respect.” Roaner reprimands.

“Come,” I say, walking to leave the study. “With Lorsius here or not, he will not hold us back from our training.”

*  *  *

“No, absolutely not.” Morano shakes his head stepping backward. “I will not commit to hand combat with a Vaigosian Warrior as you.”

“Oh, just train with him.” Amias pushes him forward.

Just as I step onward, Morano shrinks inches below his height as shifts into a different body. Ivella, specifically.

“Hit me now,” he dares.

I cringe at hearing her voice come from him and I step backward.

Roaner is bursting into laughter as he sits by the lake. Quickly, Morano shifts into Esme, shutting Roaner up immediately.

Instead of changing his voice to Esme’s, Morano speaks to Roaner in his natural voice.

“Stop,” Roaner says as Morano begins to walk toward him. “Stop it!” He shouts as soon as Morano begins to chase him with an eerie giggle.

Amias catches Morano by his arm as he runs by. “Stop giving them sights they will never forget.” He cannot help but to laugh as he talks.

Morano shifts back to his natural form and stands next to Amias.

“Why not you two?” Morano looks between Roaner and I. “Hand to hand combat.”

“No,” Roaner smirks, remembering the first time we fought. “Someone will have my neck if I hurt the High Prince of Vaigon.”

“That someone has yet to reveal feelings. So, that someone has no right to feel any kind of way if I am hurt. That is only if I allow you to hurt me.”

“Oh, please.” Roaner rolls his eyes. “You will curl into her arms at the slightest scratch and let her weep over your wounds any given day.”

“Ha!” Morano laughs. “The both of you are hilarious. You both would curl into your woman’s arms at the prick of a nail.”

“I have no woman,” Roaner bitterly responds.

“And neither do I.”

“Esme is in denial that she is falling for Roaner,” Amias observes. “And Ivella is oblivious.”

“Has she shifted yet?” I ask Roaner.

“No, not yet.”

“The contraception is still leaving her system then.” Morano says. “When she does shift, she may have difficulties shifting back into her bodily form.”

I look to Roaner. “And that is when you will come get me.”

“Now,” Amias looks between Roaner and I. “Back to training shall we?”

*  *  *

“I do not know how long I can do this.” Morano says as he begins to trail around the room.

Supper has been brought to the study, but he has become so angsty that he can barely eat any of his food. His eyes cast upward, staring at the moon hanging over the framed glass ceiling.

“We will have work to tend to in no time. We all are rather aware that Lorsius struggles to hold his own.”

Before Morano can respond, the doors of the study burst open.

A guard we know well is panting at the door in fright. “An ambush, Your Highness,” he struggles to get out the words. “Every Court but Gordanta and Partalos are under attack. The numbers are grave, we do not stand a chance.”

We rush to our feet and ascend from the study to the grounds.

He was not lying.

People are running, fleeing the area.

As I look around at the growing chaos, I recognize the Quamfasian leather armor immediately.

Every Court but Gordanta and Partalos are under attack. Gordanta and Partalos are the only lands not containing captives from Quamfasi.

They are here for their people.

“What do we do?” Amias asks while grabbing a stray sword from the ground.

Then, what I spoke of earlier with Ivella comes to mind.

“Ivella,” I whisper as I frantically search around me.

‘Whatever you do tonight, do not fight and have sanctuary.’

“We stop our people from retaliating.” I shout over the small war erupting around us. “I will have no Quamfasian blood on the hands of my Warriors.”

Amias lunges onward, repelling a blade from driving into a young Warrior of New Quamfasi and Amias looks back at me.

“Protect the young of New Quamfasi, at any length.” I command. “Tell our own to stand down.”

People have shifted into their Wolves; savagely fighting one another for the blood in their throat. The visceral sounds of snapping teeth sound off, then the loud cries and whimpers lead after.

The main problem here, who is who in Wolf form?

“Find me by the Servant Grounds, be sure no one enters the palace!” I say to Morano and Roaner before they ascend.

The moment I come to a halt near the grounds, I see Ivella defending the entrance.

Two Vaigosian guards charge towards her and the smile that forms on her face is one of excitement for death. She runs onward and they phase into their Wolves as they leap toward her and just as swift as the wind, she falls to her knees, gliding beneath the long span of the Wolves still lunging through the air.

Ivella rotates on her knees and smoothly stands, a dagger is held in her hand dripping in blood. The sharp edge is stabbed through an intestine ripped from the Wolf now lying limp on the ground.

The epee is thrown to the ground, and she draws her spear. The moment she lays a finger on the spear, it ignites in a glow of dark orange.

A force field is thrown at her, and her spear repels it.

The anger in her eyes flare, and that bit of magic I witnessed in her long ago returns.

The anger in her eyes flare, and that bit of magic I witnessed in her long ago returns.

“Weak men use their powers.” As the words leave her mouth I watch the Wolf begin to cripple and yelp as he claws at the ground. His cries sound gargled the more he yelps.

Water is thrown up and his eyes begin to swell.

She is drowning him from the inside out.

Ivella walks over the dead bodies and back to the line of the Servant Grounds.

The grounds are solely under her protection as I see Quamfasian Warriors help their people flee from the area.

“Laven!” Morano shouts down the bond. “Come to the gates of the palace!”

At the fright in his voice, I ascend immediately through the chaos.

When I arrive, Esme is in battle with Lorsius.

“If he weakens her, I am stepping in.” Morano warns.

“You do not know Esme enough,” I say. “She will kill you for intervening, she is fighting for blood. Do not dare to step in.”

Her foot collides strongly with his chest, throwing him multiple feet backwards. Lorsius grows frantic as he shouts for his sight to return. No mercy is held over him. Behind him, Penelope appears, catching him by a grip of his hair. Then, I recognize his clouded eyes filled with white. Esme walks toward him with a grin. Like prey, they circle him, taunting him in his  most vulnerable state. They weaken him until he falls to the ground, searching for a weapon that is not there. Penelope draws her sword, and the beautiful, golden blade appears.

‘By the drive of a Queen’s golden blade.’

As the sword rises up, it drives down just as fast, splitting right through the top of his head. She yanks the sword down like a lever, ripping directly through his face and chest. His blood, intestines, all of it pours to the ground and so does he.

Penelope gazes at me as she rips her sword from his body and his corpse falls.

“You now have our alliance.” She says with blood all over her face.

Her blade lifts into the sky, ricocheting a beam of gold into the night sky. The Quamfasian people go still.

“Hathasna!” Penelope shouts.

And in the distance, I can hear the breaking of the border and chants echoing through the night—it moves through the wind in a song.

The boisterous sounds of stone falling echo far and wide.

“What are they saying?”

All around us the Quamfasian people begin to chant along with those far beyond the dwindling border.

“They are singing to the fall of the border . . . and getting their people back.” Roaner stops, listening farther. “Raise your voices, sing across the border, wave our flag wherever we go. Let them hear us from the depths of nations unknown.”

They chant and sing, some speak in happiness, some speak in sadness of those they lost here years ago. I can feel the passion pouring from their voices as their hands press to the ground where their loved ones died so long ago in the influence of Lorsius.

Ivella is in the distance, looking me over. She does not meet my eye before ascending.

* Old Quamfasian: Hathasna     Translation: Victory