True North [True North series book 1/3]

Chapter 33 - the Sorael



I hurried down the hallway, and made it back to Myrtha’s room. I found her sound asleep in the bed.

“Myrtha,” I said, “Myrtha, it’s time.”

Myrtha didn’t respond. I reached out and gently shook her, but still, Myrtha remained still.

“Myrtha!” I called out, as a sinking feeling clawed at me. No — she couldn’t be…

Myrtha opened her eyes slowly, and took a while to find mine. I let out a sigh of relief.

“Oh Myrtha — you’re awake.”

Myrtha smiled faintly. “I am,” she said quietly.

“I’m so glad. Take your time getting up, I’m just going to change,” I said, and took the pile of clothing into the bathing chambers with me, quickly changing into them. I put the gown on over the tunic and leggings, and instead of lacing up the back, cinched it with the belt that Phaedra had put on the desk.

I helped Myrtha prepare, braiding her wispy, silver hair and tying it up, so it wouldn’t get in her way. Then, we made our way to the throne room. It wasn’t hard to find, as there were Ardanian females going in the same direction everywhere we looked. There were males too, but they all were headed in a different direction — the battlefield.

I looked at each one of them, trying to find Warrian. We eventually stopped walking when we reached the end of the line. It was a long line — it would surely take us a while to get to the throne itself. I decided to brief her on what Thoridor had told me.

I made sure to only tell her the outlines of the plan, and held back as many details as possible. I didn’t know about Ardanian hearing, after all, and didn’t want to risk anything. Myrtha looked even more pale than usual, but nodded bravely when I concluded my talk. And then, all there was left to do, was wait.

We shuffled closer and closer to the throne room, until I eventually made it to the doorway. From there, I was able to spot Thoridor. He was sitting on a throne in the back of the room, raised up on some sort of podium. Aricor and Morai were sitting on either side of him, a bit further back, and on more plain-looking chairs.

Suddenly, I felt fingers wrap around my wrist. I glanced over my shoulder to find their owner. Warrian.

“I don’t have much time,” he said, “but I needed to speak to you — apologize. Explain myself.”

“Was it to protect me?” I whispered immediately.

“Yes— Yes, Serin, it was only ever to protect you. I meant no harm, but I should have—”

“I forgive you,” I said, cutting him off. “It’s fine. Thank you for having been there for me. I will never forget you, War.”

Warrian opened his mouth, and closed it again.

“Likewise,” he just said, and then turned around.

He glanced over his shoulder one more time, before turning the corner. I returned his sad smile, and then, he was gone.

I focussed my attention back on the ritual that was unfolding before me. One by one, each Ardanian approached Thoridor, touching his outstretched hand, before turning around and walking out the other side of the room. Toward the battlefield. I swallowed thickly as we shuffled forward again. There were only about twenty Ardanians left between me and Thoridor. Nerves began surging through me as the distance grew shorter and shorter. And then, it was my turn.

Thoridor’s eyes met mine as I approached him, and there seemed to be nothing left of the gentleness he had spoken to me with earlier. His usual cold expression had returned, sending a shiver down my spine. I slowly ascended the steps that led up to the podium, and knelt before him, like the other females had.

Thoridor’s eyes burned into mine as he held out his hand. I stretched out mine, hovering it a hair’s width over his. We held them there for just a moment, and I could’ve sworn I felt a tingling being emitted from his hand. I wondered if that was the magic he was summoning, and quickly pulled back my hand. I glanced at Aricor, but he just nodded in the direction of the battlefield, and I turned around to walk in the direction of the door.

I stepped through the door, and straight onto the snowy field. I waited there, for Myrtha. She made it out a few moments later, looking a bit more bright than before.

“Did it work?” I whispered to her, and Myrtha just smiled at me.

Then, Phaedra was at our side. “Follow me,” she said, taking us to the far side of the battlefield. It wasn’t actively snowing, but the snow on the ground quickly seeped through our boots and turned our toes to ice as we threaded the field.

“As soon as the last female sets foot on the battlefield, we will turn to the moons. The battle starts as soon as the third moon turns red, and ends when it has turned white again. Do not spend precious time and focus looking at it, a horn will be blown to indicate the start and finish of the battle.”

I nodded, and looked at Myrtha. “When should she—”

“Immediately,” Phaedra cut me off.

“You should try and open up the gateway immediately,” she said to Myrtha. “Do it exactly the way Thoridor explained it to you, as you are now using part of his magic to begin wielding yours. Focus on where the gateway should appear, and where it should lead. Serin, give Myrtha as many details about your home as possible, describe it as clearly as possible. She should know exactly what to picture as she opens the gateway.”

I grabbed onto one of both female’s hands.

“If I die today,” I said, “I’d like both of you to know that I have thoroughly appreciated each of you.”

Phaedra smiled as she removed a string of beads from her face.

“Part of me hopes you don’t make it out of here,” she admitted, and leaned in to kiss my cheek. “I think we’d make good friends.”

We all looked around as we heard the sound of a door being pulled shut near the palace.

“There’s the last female,” Phaedra whispered, “good fortune, to each of you. And good travels to you, Serin.”

We returned the well wishes, and looked up at the moons. Two of them had already turned red. The last one was about halfway there. I glanced around at the battlefield, taking in all the Ardanians around me.

I suddenly felt something being pressed into my hand. It was a dagger. I looked up at Phaedra. “Fight dirty,” she whispered, and then, the bone-chilling sound of a horn being blown echoed through the battlefield.

Just a moment later, the first sounds of death drowned out the horn. And then, they were all around me.


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