mage

A general that was almost too fat for his armor waddled over to Prince Randolph.

“Your father sent word, Your Highness.”

Prince Randolph already knew what his father wanted.

The complete and unconditional surrender of the Hallean people.

But Randolph would have to kill every last one of them to get it.

Prince Randolph did not understand why the Hallean people would not join with his kingdom.

Except he did know.

They were proud. Fierce. Independent.

Warriors that were said to be cut from the same stone and ice that marked their home.

They did not have a place among the “elegance” and “refinement” of his people.

Prince Randolph stared at the foreboding mountains that gleamed white under the moon.

They were as harsh and cold as the people that inhabited them.

He didn’t want to another war.

But he wouldn’t back down from it, either.

Princess Avari took only volunteers.

The wyvern riders would hit hard and fast.

And the mages would aim their spells at the markers.

She stroked the flank of her wyvern whose scales were black as night.

He would die beside her. As she would him. But they might buy her people another generation of freedom.

“Marry well, my brother,” Princess Avari said. “A woman you care for as much as you do our kingdom. Then I know you will have many strong sons and brave daughters.”

He stared into the distance. “Will the fighting ever end so they will know peace?”

Not unless they surrendered.

But that wasn’t an end to the fighting.

It just meant they fought as slaves.

Princess Avari hugged her brother hard.

It was a rare display of affection from her, but she did not think she was returning.

“Be careful, my sister, and return to your people.”

It would be her last mission, but it would earn her a place with the Valla, the Sky Riders that forever protected her people and her lands.