Death After Death

Simon didn’t use magic to fight or hide as he rushed the soldiers in the rear of the rush, pressing toward the throne. There would be time for that once the chaos started and children weren’t looking as much at him specifically.

For now, no one was looking at him at all. Instead, the soldiers in the front were fighting the Queen's guards while those behind them shouted angrily. “You’ve led us to this terrible crossroads!” one man cried.

“We could have had peace if only you’d allied with the Murian. Then all of this could have been avoided!” another man shouted.

Despite wearing identical armor in identical colors, the men managed to look like a mob, somehow. That spoke to both the poor quality of the men the army was being forced to induct now as well as just how green this group was. Half of them weren’t even wearing their helmets. Simon would make them regret that.

I would kill for some armor right about now, he sighed as he strode toward his enemies. A toga was not the best outfit to do battle in.

No one was paying attention to him. Why should they? The throne room was filled with dead guards and the bodies of other fallen traitors. There was no one left to oppose them.

All of them had thought they’d won. Why shouldn’t they? The Queen was cornered, and the palace was under siege. The traitors had won by every measure. Unfortunately for them, Simon was a fan of lost causes, and Elthena was one cause he’d never give up on.

He opened by burying his dagger in the neck of one of the men and holding it there, letting it drink deeply. The man screamed, causing all those around him to turn, but that was exactly what Simon had been waiting for. As soon as they turned, he lashed out in a wide slash with his long sword, taking one man in the neck, one across the face, and one in the eye, blinding him on his left side.

Simon was very overextended by that move and would have fallen over if not for the man who he was still bleeding with his dagger. Instead, he used him as an anchor and, after a moment, as a shield. Several men struck out at Simon as he retreated two steps, but they only struck their friend in the process.

He wasn’t trying to take any more of these assholes out. Even with the flood of life energy that was roaring through him, he was still far too old to take out four armed and armored men by himself. Even with the arrows that were bouncing off their armor here and there, that was a losing battle. What he needed to do was break the deadlock around the Queen and get those four soldiers back into the fight to even things up.

“What are you thinking, old man!” the largest soldier yelled. “I’m going to make it slow for not knowing when to stay out of things!”

Simon ignored the threats. His only response to the man was a feint to keep him at bay, but even as he did so, his mind was racing, watching the ebb and flow of battle.

Once he figured out the best way to break this conflict open, he whispered, “Vosden,” and thrust into the scale mail of the man in front of him. The man had been guarding high, expecting another blow to his unprotected face, but Simon knew that. Instead, he used a word of strength to go right through the armor that covered both his chest and back, along with the back of the soldier who had been standing behind him, fighting another foe.

Simon's sword should have deflected harmlessly at such a clumsy strike. Instead, it went right through.

And just like that, their line started to collapse. Simon was forced to give ground after that, both because he was outnumbered three on one, as well as the fact that he no longer had a sword, but the blow he’d struck had already been fatal. A moment ago, eleven men had dominated the throne room. Now, only eight were standing, and half of them were wounded, their chokehold was already evaporating. Suddenly, the battle for the throne was not a one-sided affair, and the green soldiers were being cut down like grass by her veteran bodyguards.

Simon smiled grimly at that, even as he moved further back into the corner to protect the children from his assailants. Part of him was trying to figure out the right spell to unleash in this moment, but before he needed to do that, the traitors broke. Reduced to only half a dozen men, they fled like the rats they were toward the courtyard, leaving only blood and death in their wake as Simon and his class approached the throne.

“I had no idea you could fight like that,” one of the Queen’s bodyguards joked. “Pretty good moves for an old man.”

“The children keep me young,” Simon answered automatically. His mind wasn’t on what people might think of him or how well he’d fought. It was on getting the Prince safely to Elthna. She was moving quickly toward them, too, and he met her at the foot of the stairs. She didn’t sweep Seyom into her arms, though. It was Simon that she hugged, which took him by surprise. Normally, she would have never done such a thing in public, but after this, he supposed that he couldn’t blame her. She was a woman with an iron will, but everyone had a breaking point.

Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.

“You kept him safe!” she gasped. “You kept him safe, and you came for me despite everything! I can’t believe how dashing you still are after all these years.”

“I would never let the Prince of Ionar be harmed while in my care,” he said very carefully as he tried to pull away.

“The Prince is it?” she chided. “If this is to be our last day, do you think he does not deserve to know the truth?”

“My Queen,” the bloody captain of her guards cut in, “We have to get you and the Prince somewhere safe. The palace is not safe, and it may yet fall.”

Simon’s heart sang at the very idea of what she was saying, but the idea that she might regret it later, along with the sober words of the guard, held him back. “I think the time for talk can wait until the battle is won,” he shot back.

She searched his eyes, and then nodded, and pulled away. “No, she insisted, pulling away from her guard’s grip, even as she held to Simon. I will wait no longer.”

“The truth about what?” Seyom asked, finally figuring out that they were talking about him. The other children milled around still, and past them, the guards.

Everyone was listening, but at this point, events were out of Simon’s hands. There was nothing he could do as the Queen released him and hunched down to look her son in the eye. “Remember that I told you your father was a brave warrior who saved the city from Brogan and the tides of lava that almost washed over the city?” she explained. “I could not marry him because of the curse, but the Oracle herself told me that I should keep him close to you. She didn’t tell me why, but I am sure it was for this moment.”

“Wait…” the boy said, looking back and forth between the two of them in shock. “Master Ennis is my father?”

She nodded, with tears in her eyes. “He is, I promise you, and a more heroic one than any of us deserve.”

Simon wasn’t sure of that. He felt like something he’d done altered the timeline to cause this war. It might have just been the thorough way he’d cleaned up the zombies this time. A few zombies going north might have been enough to delay these hostilities for years or decades. It might not even have been me. It might have been my doppelgänger who caused this, he realized.

Ultimately, the why didn’t matter. All that mattered was that he needed to solve this. Even if they weren’t his family, he would need to save these people. The love that he had for them both, though, only increased that urgency, and it was impossible not to see that love reflected when he looked at young Seyom once more. He was still so young, but his dark eyes shone with intelligence, and even now, Simon knew he would grow up into a fine young man.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you before now,” Simon said, wishing he had time to allow this moment to linger, but the longer he waited, the more dire things would become. “I would have, but it was your mother’s wish.”

“I understand,” he nodded. There was an awkward moment then, as the boy obviously wasn’t sure what to do, but Simon erased it by kneeling and hugging both the boy and his mother.

“I love you both,” he said, “And when I am done we shall all talk about a great many things, but now I have at least one more fight to win, and need you both to do something for me.”

“What’s that?” Elthena asked.

“I am too old to fight what comes next without extraordinary means. So, no matter what you see me do, no matter what powers I unleash on our enemy, remember that I have not sold my soul to hell for dark powers,” he said very soberly. “I have learned all these things over a very long time, and today, I will have to put them to use whether I want to or not.”

“Magic?” Seyom asked. “What are you going to do?”

“It’s going to be quite the show,” Simon said, forcing a smile as he mussed the boy's hair and rose to his feet again. “You should go to the tower for the best view.”

Then he turned to the captain of the Queen’s guard and said, “You’ll see to it then? I’ll retake the gate, and I can count on you to keep them safe?”

The man nodded and then started shouting orders. At that moment, everything started happening at once. Simon wanted to kiss Elthna. He wanted to tell his son a hundred things, but there was no time. Simon might have a chance against a hundred men with magic, but if hundreds more showed up, he’d tap out long before they ran out of bodies to throw at him.

So, instead, he watched them leave the room, and then he turned and picked out the best-looking sword from the carnage and focused on it for a moment. He thought back to all the illustrations and the sketches and designs he’d made over the last few years, and then when he had the pattern in mind for the rune blade of sharpness, which was supposed to work much like the one he’d taken from the dragon’s horde, he said, “Celdura Vosden,” and used the planning magic to embed the magical design into the metal permanently.

The former was a weapon he’d wanted to make for some time, but he’d never gotten around to it. The technique, though, was something he’d practiced several times since the botched assassination attempt on him. It worked fairly flawlessly, transforming part of the steel in his blade to a gleaming silver directly without all the steps he’d used to create his dagger. So, as much as he liked to work metal, that was probably a skill he’d need less and less as time went on.

Physically, the sword didn’t look that much different, but as he slashed it through a candelabra and the metal candleholders parted cleanly before his blade, he knew that it worked. “Now I’m ready,” he told himself, gripping both magical weapons tightly as he started to walk to the courtyard.

While he would have loved to run back to his rooms and grab his leather armor, there was no more time for that than there had been to kiss Elthana. It was time to fight and save the whole Kingdom of Ionia or die in the attempt.