The Historian’s Novel

Having left Thompson and Martel at the merchant’s embassy to wrap things up with Gregory Rutherford, Amelia made quick progress towards the King’s castle, thanks to the coach that ought to have been her ride home and the Duke of Winchester’s knight now serving as her coachman.

Outside, on the streets of the capital, it quickly became apparent that the Velvetican Kingdom had entered into a state of emergency. All around her, Amelia could see civilians fleeing away from the Harbor under the peeling of bells. As well as the city’s men at arms who in tight formations rushed towards the conflict, ready to fight.

Amelia looked towards the Ocean. Despite not being in sight, she could hear the noises of battle as the invaders pelted the harbor with cannons. Already several dark plumes of fiery smoke were rising high from the chaos.

“Where is my father?” Amelia asked of her grandfather’s knight, as he brought their ride to a halt in from of the castle’s draw-bridge, where to her surprise the Strightsworth’s Knights Havoc had brought with him, were on horseback.

“He is inside with the King,” replied the Knight.

Leaping down from the coach, Amelia considered the Knight’s words and approached the captain standing at the front of her family’s Knights. He saluted, confirming her suspicions that they had been awaiting her arrival.

“Lady Strightsworth, what should be done?” asked the captain, deferring command.

Taking responsibility for having accepted the title of Viscountess. Amelia pointed to the Ocean, and as one her Knights turned to face it with steel in their hands.

“You are to assist in protecting the people until my father’s arrival!”

**

Amelia found her father inside of the castle’s throne room. Where Havoc, the King, the Duke of Winchester, and several other nobles were all intensively listening to the foreign Prince of all people, who was desperately pleading his case.

“They are my men only in name,” said the prince, and the few servants with him frantically nodded, “I swear, I have no involvement in this attack. I admit, the Marquess of Rutherford might have approached me with words of betrayal, however I never once planned on joining his cause! I wholeheartedly disavow those who have chosen to attack!”

The King, appearing haggard, stroked his chin while his foot impatiently tapped. “We are… already aware of your status as a puppet… But I will only ensure your survival if you can explain how the Leviathan is still alive.”

The Prince rent his clothes in distress, “I don’t know that! I’m here because I saw what your Dragon did to our Leviathan the first time around! If you want answers, find your Marquess! He’s the one with a madman pursuing the creation of elixirs, maybe they actually managed to pull something off?”

“I’m afraid the Marquess of Rutherford isn’t anywhere to be found,” Havoc said, before he stepped back from their group to meet Amelia as she ran to his side.

The Leviathan lived? Amelia cared for all of two counts. “Where’s Grace?” she asked loudly, hoping someone might know, “I… I thought Grace would be safe once I had brought her back home!”

“Those assigned to guard her were found incapacitated without signs of struggle,” The King answered. He refused to look Amelia in the eye, as if their failure were his, “Both… Both my daughter and that young man named Stanton … We believe the Marquess of Rutherford has taken them as hostages, for protection against Havoc.”

Stanton had also been kidnapped? Amelia felt her legs beginning to wobble. That made no sense at all, from what she thought she knew, Stanton was the type to die fighting before allowing himself or another to be captured.

The King, turned away. He resumed giving orders for the defense of the harbor, while Amelia, felt the future she had been so close to achieving start to slip away through her hands. Trying to make sense of it all, horrible question after horrible question began worming their way into Amelia’s mind.

Was it really a coincidence Stanton had found a sponsor in this life but not in the Historian’s Novel? How could he have found her so quickly underground after her disappearance? Come to think of it, he had said he knew of ‘tunnels’, as in plural… So how had he known which one to go down?

The warmth in Amelia’s belly, dormant since she had spoken about it to Grace, pulsed, filling her with a warmth that caused something inside her skull to shatter like glass. And all of a sudden, she could remember how Stanton had already known who Martel and Grace were, before they had met underground.

Could it be? Had Stanton met the Historian, or have received something akin to the Historian’s novel? Amelia had almost forgotten about the Historian’s obsession with Grace, what if Stanton had signed a deal with the devil, and was now being forced to steal away a princess amidst the confusion? Her guesswork, made frightening sense. It was unbearable, to not know the truth, but the last thing she wanted was to fall victim to another misunderstanding…

A faint noise in her ears, mistaken at first for the ringing of the city’s bells, began dominating Amelia’s hearing. And as her breathing, now erratic, began to increase more and more in its rhythm, in what felt to be a distance far off, she heard the prince shout.

“Lord Dragon, there is something wrong with your daughter!”

Havoc moved swiftly. He caught Amelia by the waist before she could fall, and with concern in his eyes he went to check her pulse in an attempt to uncover what had overtaken his daughter. Though his care did nothing to impede the anger bubbling to a boil inside Amelia’s heart. Like a tidal wave of power, it was enough to make her lose sight of everything except for the desire to give chase and hunt a thief down.

“No!” Amelia screamed. She clambered out from her father’s arms as her vision went red, “I won’t let him! Grace… Grace is mine, he can’t have her! I found her. I made her my handmaiden and became her best friend! He has no right to take her from me!”

By then the pain burning her insides had become too hot to handle. Gnashing her teeth, Amelia howled as the heat within her burned her throat before escaping her mouth in a geyser of flames. She could feel herself slipping… Until a set of ginormous hands reached down to grab both sides of her face.

“Calm down. Calm down and focus,” Havoc said, and Amelia felt the madness she couldn’t bear begin flowing into her father, “If the princess is yours, then you just need to do something about it.”

A ray of clarity emerged within the maelstrom. “That’s… That’s right,” Amelia said, within the trance her father worked to syphon down to a manageable level, “If… If Grace is mine, then I just need to find her!”

Her mind once muddled, suddenly felt clearer than ever. And as she calmed down, Amelia chose not to doubt Stanton. She already feared for the worst, risking a misunderstanding would only hinder her latest goal of recovering both Stanton and Grace.

This simple decision, left Amelia’s feeling enlightened. And all at once the burning within her shot to the front of her mind’s eye, where it took the shape of a fiery compass that spun madly before stopping to point in a direction which beckoned.

“Are you able to see her?” Havoc asked.

“No,” Amelia answered, before flinging herself against her father for a hug which he returned without question. “But I know where she is. Dad, can you take care of the harbor for me? I need to find Grace.”

“Amelia,” The Duke of Winchester said, clearly concerned, “are you sure about this?”

“Of course not,” Amelia replied, having no delusions of grandeur, “But in a race against time, wouldn’t it be better to act as quickly as possible? Focus on the invaders, I’ll let my father know where I am once I’ve found the Marquess.”

“Then… you’d best get going,” said the King.

Havoc gave Amelia a push, stumbling her out from the question of whether the King’s reaction meant he approved of her affection for his daughter or not. In turn, she turned the stumble into a run, one which carried her out of the throne room, and down the long majestic stairs of the castle, which she dared take a full two steps at a time.

She already knew the distance between herself and Grace would be too much for her body. Turning away from the call of her princess, Amelia sprinted towards the spot her family’s knights had earlier been. Now deserted, but not yet completely abandoned.

Nervous, but determined, Amelia approached her father’s horse.

“Bone-Crusher!” she shouted, and the animal responsible for many a childhood nightmare reared its head and plodded towards her, “Up!” she directed, raising both of her hands in the hope he might understand what she wanted.

Without breaking his stride, Bone-Crusher bent his head low and grabbed her by the scruff of her dress. Flexing his neck, the beast tossed Amelia into the air, and caught her on his back.

“Woah,” said Amelia, barely managing to latch both arms around Bone-Crusher’s neck to prevent herself from falling, “Uh… Please, I need to go over there!” she said, squeezing her legs as her father had taught her once more securely positioned, “Do you… Do you know what I’m saying? Daddy told me you’re smart.”

For a moment, Bone-Crusher stood where he was. Then, just as Amelia had begun to worry, he spoke, in a deep, ageless voice, drenched in the violence of a creature born only for war.

“And those in our way? In these final hours, can I treat them as dirt?”

Taking the fact her father’s horse might possibly be part demon in stride, Amelia patted its mane in admonishment. “If you follow my directions, I’m sure we can find you someone who deserves to be trampled… But… I would prefer it if you avoided everyone else.”

Bone-Crusher whinnied. It sounded like laughter. “Very well,” Bone-Crusher said, and Amelia felt the muscles beneath her tense as he began to pick up speed as they passed over the draw-bridge and made for the city. “But you should really hold on tighter,” he added, as his hoofs began leaving a trail of sparks in their wake towards Grace, Amelia’s princess, who she couldn’t imagine living without in her life.