Chapter 67 The Snake of Hellbane
“It’s come to my attention that this year’s fodder has overstepped their abilities and claimed rights that were not yet meant for them.”
Silas’ voice booms, an echo of dread reverberating in everyone’s hearts. He stands on a precipice of a gaping hole in the middle of the courtyard. Beneath him, far below, the roar of a bonfire and righteous, angry alicorns billow out along with thick acrid smoke. Each slayer trainee is lined around the edge, two feet apart. Surrounding us are every slayer and captain, every servant and cook. There’s no sign of Thorne, and his absence makes my soul clench in fear.
All but two sets of eyes among the trainees are fearful, unsure of what's about to happen. Malachi looks like a fox in a henhouse, his sneer as he glares at each of us tells me he knows exactly what's happening. Zaries stares only at me, fire and fury in his dark eyes. We didn’t get a chance to speak. The guards of Hellbane ushered me to the courtyard before I even had a chance to change my armor.
I stand between Sylvain and Oberon, bloodied and tattered, while everyone else is in their battalion's armor.
“Fodder has ridden alicorn, fought dragons, and attempted to kill each other in their sleep.” Silas’ eyes roam over the group, but they bore into me. “Since you all are so overprepared, I’ve decided it’s time to stop treating you like trainees and see if you have what it takes to be a real slayer.”
A terrified hush falls over the crowd, understanding sinking in. Thorne is elsewhere, and Silas has taken control of Hellbane in his absence. Blood will be shed at his whim, lives at risk of loss. My own is in the most danger, judging by the way both Silas and Malachi stare at me.
“One may never stand a chance at fighting a dragon if they cannot fly.”
“No,” Alric murmurs, blood draining from his face.
“Below, the strongest of the wild alicorns have been gathered. They are held by chains, courtesy of Captain Steel. There is only one way in and one way out of this pit. You will be lowered in by rope, which I recommend you hold on to for this feat, and your only way out will be on the back of a claimed alicorn.” Silas curls his lips into a mockery of a smile. “Or dead.”
“This is wrong,” Alric hisses under his breath. “This is not how we’re meant to bond with them!”
“This isn’t normal?” Sylvain asks, the only one close enough to him to be heard.
“We’re meant to go out into the wilds and gentle a beast, not take them under fire and pain. They’re being tortured down there. Can’t you feel their hurt?” Alric whispers.
I thought the beasts were just angry at being chained, but no. I can hear the pain in their cries now. I look for Steel in the crowd, but he’s nowhere to be seen. The man is cold, but I never imagined him capable of cruelty without cause.
“He means us to fight the alicorns and claim them by force,” Alric whispers. “They’ll fight for their freedom like crazed beasts. We’re in grave danger.”
Oberon leans as close to me as he dares without being noticed. “I will not let you come to harm, I swear it.”
“Our alicorns are treasured, so you will not be permitted to take weapons.” Silas’s black eyes roam over us, looking almost hungry. “However, since you are all so skilled in your newfound gifts, I do not see a reason to fear for your safety. This group of fodder is by far the most talented, the most promising group we have ever seen.”
He looks around as if expecting applause, but the only sound that greets him is hushed, disbelieving whispers of dissent. His face twists in ire, his good hand squeezing the withered one as he stares everyone down.
“Where is Thorne?” Zaries demands, breaking ranks and climbing the pedestal to face Silas directly. “Where is the dragon slayer commander, Uncle?”
Silas sneers, a look of victory and pompous power on his face. “My prince, I thought you of all people would know.” He lays his good hand on the side of the prince’s face, a fatherly gesture from a vile snake. “The queens of the kingdoms have called a conclave, inviting the chief of Flamepeak to discuss the future leadership of the country. Of course, our esteemed leader had to attend to represent our prince, since he was otherwise occupied with his training. Or looking for the lady’s maid—my apologies—the Daughter of Hellbane.”
A hiss of fury stirs the crowd, the servants and guards of the castle moving closer in my defense. A cool hand slips into mine from behind me and I turn, finding Maggie with unshed tears clinging to her eyelids.
“I’m here, P—Anara…let me tie your hair.” She sniffles, rubbing a tear away from her weathered cheeks with the back of her hand before she combs through my tangled tresses. “Remember your fire, deary,” she whispers. “Don’t let his poison overpower your destiny.”
“Maggie, what’s really going on here?” I whisper back, reaching over my shoulder and gripping her hand. We both tremble in fear, but she’s shaking so hard it breaks my heart.
“The Snake of Stormcoast is making a play for supremacy. If you die, he gets power here. If Zaries dies, he becomes the heir of the kingdom.” She releases my hand and deftly braids my hair. It’s tight, too tight, but when she winds my brain on top of my head, she slips in new poisoned hairpins. “Shame your gifts did not wither his head, rather than his hand.”
It is then that I realize the old woman isn’t trembling in fear, but in anger. Her tears aren’t of sadness, but fury.
“Why would the queens call a conclave now, knowing I cannot attend?” Zaries asks, taking his regal lineage to heart and opposing his uncle like he’s already king.
“Did you not find the appearance of young Oberon a little suspicious?” Silas asks, his voice dripping with evil.
As if on cue, Oberon steps away from my side and approaches the pedestal, facing off with Zaries.
“Oberon?” I whimper in disbelief.
He turns sad eyes on me, his lips thin.
“I didn’t want you to find out this way,” Oberon snarls. “But since it’s out, I will declare my right now. Stormcoast let the heir to Obsidian Reach die a horrible death. They did not protect her. Then the same day, the kings of both kingdoms fell to the dreaded silver dragon. Eliminating the royal line of Obsidian Reach.”
“I am the only heir capable of claiming both kingdoms, Oberon,” Zaries growls, hands moving to his twin blades on his sides. “What is the meaning of this?”
Oberon lifts his chin. “Queen Avarica was indeed an only child, but she’s not the one who ruled Obsidian Reach, was she? No, Atreus Oventure claimed her as his queen, bringing a common girl from a village into the queen we serve today. But Atreus? He has a brother. Long dead, but a brother with a son.”
“You see, nephew, your claim to the throne is being contested,” Silas says. “Oberon Oventure has been claimed as heir by Queen Avarica of Obsidian Reach!”
“Impossible!” Zaries roars, ripping his swords out of his scabbard. “He was raised as a city guard, not a prince!”
“Just as Anara was raised only as a lady's maid?” Oberon grins, not shying away from Zaries’ threat in the slightest.
“Leave her out of this,” Zaries warns, his lip twitching in fury.
“Tell me, Zaries. The queens—they were found together, were they not? In a small village where ageless beings take mortal lovers…” Oberon’s eyes slide toward Wist, standing behind Alric. “Where fae mate with man?”
Zaries bares his teeth and lunges, placing the blade in his right hand against Oberon’s throat.
Oberon only grins wider, holding his hands behind his back as he looks at me with an unyielding love in his eyes. “Anara is a foundling, an orphan, claimed by the queens shortly after their own heirs were born. She is just as they were, the blood of the fae, the blood of the woods. As such, she is the only one capable of taking the throne as the next queen. Why else do you think your mother held her so close, so secret?”
“You’re lying!” Zaries roars.
“Am I?” Oberon’s eyes slide back to Zaries.
My world is shattering into a million pieces, my vision blurring. I’ve known I was a foundling, that the queens took me in, but I never once considered my lineage could be fae like them. I stagger on my feet, but Maggie holds me with a strength so unlike a frail woman.
“You are more than what they say, more and better,” she whispers. “Neither of them has a claim to you, and neither of them will ever stand a chance!”
“Guards!” Silas booms.
In a rush, the fortress guards run forward and seize the trainees.
They rip me away from Maggie and roughly search my person, taking my daggers and anything they deem a weapon. I watch as everyone is stripped of defense, armor, and blades. Even Zaries is ripped off the pedestal and stripped like a common man.
“Time to die, fuckers,” Malachi says behind a cough.
The guards begin tying a rough rope around my waist and twisting it around my arm.
“These ropes are all you’ll have to claim your mount. I suggest you do not lose them.” Silas laughs, a cackle so evil that even the skies and the mountain shake with a quake and a rumbling of thunder.
Lightning cracks far above as the guards push us closer to the edge of the pit.
Behind us, the captains protest, fighting the guards to get to their fodder. Even Steel has appeared, tied with rope and forced to his knees beside Silas.
“Say goodbye to your favored pets, captains!” Silas cries.
“This is wrong, Silas! You’ve overstepped your—” Whist’s voice is cut off as a man in a black cloak hits her over the head with a club. All at once the captains of Hellbane roar in fury, power gathering at their will and streaking straight towards Silas.
But it doesn't matter.
As the captains strike, so do the guards. Every single trainee is pushed over the edge of the precipice without warning.
We plummet, our only weapon the ropes wrapped around us.
And the powers we’ve barely harnessed.