Zasha's Capture (manxman)

Chapter 10

They were in a room Zasha did not recognize. It was completely covered with runes that swirled and connected. They were all silver and converged in the center of the room, where he and Taran were now standing. There was a door set into the wall in front of them, the runes ran across it, too. This was the result of an accomplished sorcerer, and would have taken many cycles to create. He turned to question Taran as the door burst open and Cora burst inside the room.

"Cora?" Zasha stared at her in disbelief as she ran to him and embraced him, sobbing his name.

"Zasha, Zasha. I thought you were dead! I had a vision of you being tortured..." Cora fell to her knees, taking him with her as she sobbed. "Taran has been watching over you all this time. I warned him not to be far from you when I had my vision."

So, it seemed Taran had known who he was all this time. It also seemed his twin was skilled with sorcery as he was with healing. He had never heard her speak of visions before. He turned to regard Taran, who was apparently his appointed guardian.

"I am sorry," the voice was Taran's, "I could not tell you, by order of the Queen."

Zasha thought it was a bit ridiculous of him to be hurt, but he was. He had thought Taran had liked him, not knowing he was the Prince. It seemed insignificant when he began to realize the magnitude of tonight's events. Being liked for who he was, was really nothing when he considered the slaughter and devastation he had witnessed only moments ago.

"Cora," he remembered there were things his sister should know. "They were taking healers as captives."

She looked at him and her face paled as the enormity of what he was saying sank in.

"Oh, Goddess. No..."

The war had already been hard. The only reason that they had been able to hold off the enemy was because of those blessed by Areala. All of the most skilled healers had been at that camp because they were the closest to those in the direst need of healing. From what Zasha had seen, their numbers would be decimated. Without healers, the casualties would jump exponentially. Not to mention the ruin to the morale of the army.

"What can we do?" Zasha's voice sounded hollow, even to himself.

They had no allies. The Faerian kept to themselves, to their own planet. They had an army only because one was essential. Now that they were under attack, they had no ties with any other race. No one on who they could call for help.

"We need allies," Zasha spoke what he knew they were all thinking. "But who would want to come to our aid now? There would be no benefit to helping us when we are at our weakest point."

Cora grew silent. She looked into Zasha's eyes and said, "There is one who has offered to help us. They have sought audience with me more than once."

"What?! Why did you not accept before!" Zasha was filled with disbelief. How could she have turned away an ally? She looked away from him.

"Their price is too steep." There was a strange quality to Cora's voice.

"It cannot be too steep now. Even if they demand half the planet, it is impossible to refuse. Unless you intend to watch as our world is destroyed before our eyes?!"

"It is too steep!" She sounded frantic.

Before he realized it, Zasha was screaming at Cora, digging his fingers into her arms and shaking her. "What could you possible refuse to give up! Are you so selfish?! What could be so precious to you that you would refuse to save our people for it!"

"You," Cora whispered.

Zasha stared at her, sure he had misheard.

"They will only accept an alliance by marriage...to the one in direct line of the throne."

She looked at him fully, reaching her hands to stoke his face. When she pulled them away, they were stained with the blood of both Garkian and Faerian that Zasha had encountered that day. It was an ill omen.

"It is too steep." Her voice was barely audible.

Zasha thought of Gowron. Somewhere out in the expanse of the universe was the one his heart was bound to. It seemed they were truly never to be. He felt the tiny spark of hope he had not realized was still burning in his chest, die. His fingers lost their grip on Cora's shoulders as he slumped to the floor.

Gone.

Gone was the last tiny ember of hope.

The room was silent until Zasha spoke.

"Then they shall have me."