“This is… this…”
He shouted something, an incantation, a scream, Arienne couldn’t tell. Her room twisted violently, warping everything inside it, the books, the bed, the patchwork dolls, the shelf her mother made, her decree of entry.
Arienne was destroying the last good memory of her childhood. Just as a bag could not enter itself, a room could not exit itself. It was flipping inside out. But there was no outside for this room of the mind. The room began to compress itself, to collapse inside her. And at the same time, the room Eldred had made in the dragon’s mind, the skulls and obsidian and all, collapsed with it. The Power flowing from Tychon to Arienne to Eldred’s destruction made her feel as if the very blood in her veins were on fire.
Eldred screamed. It was not the dragon’s voice but the insidious voice she knew from inside her own head. The screams did not last long. The dragon collapsed in an avalanche of red and black. Its wings covered the floor like falling twilight.
Her mind’s room was now completely inside out. Somethingness had entered nothingness. She retched a bit, but nothing came up. There was, however, the feeling that a heavy thing had finally left her. Arienne stroked the lead sarcophagus in her embrace.
“Lovely boy. I’ll make you a new room soon. Just you wait.”
The fallen dragon lay on the ground as it came back to itself. Its eight eyes were open, and the violet aura around them had disappeared. One of the eyes reminded her of Loran.
Arienne straightened her back. Something within her had changed. She was no longer afraid of the dragon. Was it because she had defeated Eldred, or because she had destroyed so much of her own past when she collapsed the room? She couldn’t be sure. Arienne walked up to the dragon, with no hesitation or fear.
39LORAN
Gigatherions were never meant to be used against mere people, only the likes of dragons or gods. But with the Empire’s conquests continuing for two centuries, even such enemies had become scarce, and there were almost no more instances of deploying the giant war machines in battle. Now they were simply paraded about as symbols of the Empire’s absolute military might, and that was enough.
From the moment she heard rumors that the gigatherion was on its way, Loran had wondered if the Empire, or at least the Twenty-Fifth Legion’s Legate Aurelia, likened her to a dragon or a god in their minds. She almost felt proud of it. She had also thought, in the back of her mind, that if this was how they thought of her, maybe there was nothing stopping her from battling them as equals.
This thought vanished from her mind at the sight of the machine giant. Clarios was a fortress walking on four legs, each like a tower. Loran felt more afraid of it than she ever had of the dragon.
No doubt the Arlander militia was even more frightened. Andnot just their side. The legionaries were fleeing the battlefield without carrying off their injured with them. Even the chariots were making a hasty retreat. Loran stood firm. If she showed fear now, everything would be over.
But maybe everything was already over.
“Stand as far away from Clarios as possible!”
Even as the Twenty-Fifth Legion heeded Aurelia’s warning, they could not help looking back at the terrifying gigatherion towering over the field. Perhaps they had never seen it in actual battle themselves.
Wilfrid’s voice rang out. “Do not retreat! If we run now, why did we prevent the princess, no, the king from surrendering before?! We are the ones who compelled King Loran to battle! How can we run now having done so?!”
On the contrary, Loran wished that they all just retreated. She could not, however, order it. The decision to stand their ground or to run would affect their futures more than whether they won or lost this battle. This was not, Loran thought, a decision even a king was allowed to make.
She looked behind her. Gwedion’s Kamori army of a thousand were no longer shooting arrows. There were no human targets in range. Shooting at the gigatherion would be like shooting at a hill. They had slung their bows on their backs and brought out spears, but their doubt at the effectiveness of their weapons was palpable even from where she stood.
Griogal had lost most of his Ledonite warriors in the first charge. Those who survived were busy gathering their wounded. Wilfrid, noticing this, ordered the Arlanders to tend to the wounded as well.
Loran began walking toward the gigatherion Clarios. Her greatest fear now was that the people behind her, unable to move forward but unwilling to retreat, would waver in their resolve because of her.
“Your Majesty! Your Majesty!” Wilfrid’s voice beseeched. Loran turned her head. There was a long cut on Wilfrid’s face. She worried that if her general did not get it cleaned and dressed, the wound would fester.
“Where are you going, Your Majesty?”
“Something must be done about that monster.”
“Well, if this is the end, then we shall end together!”
Wilfrid was a farmer. Such words did not suit her. What had made her into this? Was it Loran herself, the Empire, or something else?
“If you refuse to retreat now,” she said, “there is nothing I can do to stop you. But at least let me be the one to face that… Clarios first. I die, then there will be no one to stop you from doing as you wish.”
“And Its Excellency? Will the dragon not come?”
“I do not know. But I can wait for the dragon no longer.”
The dead filled the battlefield. Among them were legionaries burned by Loran, and Arlanders who had been killed by arrows. There was a Ledonite mangled beyond recognition by a cannonball during the initial, fatal charge. Broken blades, banners, and arrows were strewn about. Violet smoke from the cannons and Loran’s own sulfuric smoke mixed into each other, casting a pall over all.
