The Queen of Kings

Prologue

The soldier rubbed his rigid hands together, cupping them periodically to blow warm breath into. It had been a long night to end an even longer war and he had seen great scaled beast descend from the onyx skies, crushing legions so that even on the border outpost, could the coppery tang of blood be scented.

The soldier wiggled each toe, doing everything he could to stay awake. From their outposts low squatting tower, they had raised their white flag and now waited for their surrender to be recognized. He longed to return east to the rolling lands of eternal spring lush with life and light. As per the surrender, he would march to the shore with those who had survived and return home to his darling wife, her belly surely swollen now.

The soldiers' ears popped as the air around the outpost seemed to be sucked away into an eerie silence and the ground began to tremor.

There was a pounding, steady and fast. War drums? It could not be, the horns had sounded and fires had been lot across the five kingdoms, signalling the end of the war.

"Steady on down!" barked the outpost commander, and footsteps scuffed against stone as the handful of soldiers hurried to the small clearing, facing the open gates.

Four horses rode in a line, bearing hulking riders whose cloaks seemed to pull the heavy fog with them, fanning out like the wings of the great scaled beasts.

The riders reached the gate, sliding smoothly from their mounts that did not even slow down.

Cries of alarm went up as the wild-eyed horses charged through the gates, their dark riders charging behind.

The soldier threw out his hands to stop one the horses who slammed its mighty head into his chest. Its wild eyes blazed red, its frothing mouth reeking of blood.

The soldier hit the wall under the stairs with a crack, his head snapping back against the stone. He had taken his helmet off hours ago, when the white flag had been raised, a pale beacon of hope in the dark night.

The commander frantically waved his raised arms, "We have surrendered! We have surrendered!"

The four-horseman wielded dual swords, cleaving the soldiers from naval to neck, as if their armour was as soft soil. Blood sprayed and disappeared against the black leathers of the riders.

The soldier tried to drag himself up, propping himself against the stone wall, hidden in the shadow of the stairs. He ignored the numbness from his waist down and tried to make out the faces of the horseman. They wore helms with spiralling horns and sharp curves that followed the harsh lines of their faces. A centre piece protected their noses and their eyes were hidden in its shadows.

"Please," the commander dropped to his knees, bringing his hands together, "Let us return home."

"Home?" the most violent of the horsemen turned slowly, her voice soft as she cocked her head. Her helm was different to her companions, it bore a circlet of small spikes like a king's crown. "This is our home and you have invaded it."

There was the smell of a concentrated odour, "Please," the commander whimpered, "I'm sorry!" He was crying now; weak sobbing shook his old body.

"Do you hear that, cousins?" the woman's voice hardened, as she took a step forward, her sword scarping the stone ground. "The invader is sorry."

The other three horsemen slowly walked closer, as if taking care not to tread on the bodies of the soldiers they had massacred, leaving limbs and flesh strewn around. They surrounded the commander.

The woman seemed to grow taller, her shadow stretching under the full moon watching above. Her dragging sword sparked against the ground, as if she were sharpening it.

"We do not accept your surrender."

The woman paused.

"But we accept your blood"

A flash of silver and wet squelch had the soldier flinching. Squeezing his eyes shut. He heard the commander's head hit the ground with a crunch, rolling twice, before the body followed. The hollow armour clattering against the stones.

The soldier kept his eyes shut, taking slow, shallow breaths, feeling his warm blood sliding down the back of his head, over his ear and then into it. He did not dare wipe it away.

He kept still, he had to keep still.

Something slithered over his hand and he instinctively pulled back, his elbow clinking against his side. The quiet sound of his armour touching drew stillness from the clearing. A pair of footsteps approached and paused.

"Hello there, little one."

The soldier did not think the woman to be much older than him and his eyes flickered open in confusion.

She crouched a few steps away, just out of reach of the shadows that hid him. She tugged a glove off and extended her hand to what had caught her eye.

A small lizard looked up, unnaturally still.

"A green hide, no spiked ridge, wide stance," the woman murmured, leaning closer to the ground, "what a beautiful little creature."

One of the horsemen grunted as he gathered two of the horses, standing together in a growing pool of blood. The other two followed suit with their own mounts.

The lizard flicked its small tail once, then scampered into the woman's hand.

"I shall name you...Tiamat." The woman rose, cradling the tiny green lizard against her blood-soaked leathers. "Let us go home, little one."

Their footsteps headed towards the gate, the clip-clopping of the horses' hooves matching the soldiers ragged breathing as he let himself relax.

"Wait."

Silence as they waited for the woman to speak again.

"Kill the one under the stairs."