The First Queen (Currently Being Updated)

Chapter 24

Hi guys! I have a big announcement for you all before I let you read the new chapter. May is going to a hectic month for me. I have my SAT (my first) this coming Saturday, and two AP exams next week. The last week of may will consists of my final exams for this school year. From what I have just said, my time will be very much occupied by school so do not expect an update from me for two weeks. I hate not having to give you more Eleanor but I can assure you that Book 1 (yes, this is going to be a series) is coming to a close very soon. Again, I'd like to thank you all for reading my story. You guys are awesome and when you guys give me feedback and votes it really makes my day to know that my work is appreciated. Thanks for reading my announcement! Now, enjoy Chapter 24!

The midday battle was a success after three long, grueling hours of heat and shouting. The fire offensive allowed for us to keep the rebels from reaching the land mass, but that did not mean it kept away casualties. A few of Francis' bowmen were shot by arrows flying from the rebel fleet. I had hoped that not any of the birds would be harmed, since they, by instinct, know how and when to avoid danger, but I my overconfidence jinxed the outcome. Darien knew about the birds and their instincts, using his knowledge to order his men to take down at least twenty of my birds.

What pained me were two things. One, the sound the birds made as they went spiraling into the sea, their glowing orange red dimming. And the second. The second were the groans of agony and despair as those twenty Keepers saw their birds shot out of the sky as if they were quails shot for sport. Their pain made my heart tighten at the thought of Magnus being shot down in front of me. The bond is real and when broken, the Keeper will actually feel the pain that their bird went through. So the poor men who saw their birds shot down, they felt that same arrow strike them.

You must be thinking that I am not going to fight. That I'll just prance around on my horse, get my men going, and return to my tent to rest my pretty little head. You are wrong. I gave these men my word. The first battle may have not required physical combat but I can see that wave coming in large from where I stand. And I am ready. I am ready to draw my sword and shed the blood of my enemy. But I am certain that in the period of this war, I will sooner or later come face to face with Darien. We will meet each other with swords swung back at the other. Yet,I am no different than the monarchs of long ago - it would be better for your enemy to die in battle than to have to face them by yourself and settle the score.

Like I said, the offensive worked. Twenty-five ships were burned, five containing supplies. Twenty of the smaller ships were capsized when the fire birds dove down at high speeds, creating a force equal to a strong wind in a hurricane. I have to admit, I had underestimated how Francis would order his men. The bowmen's shots were precise and neat. If the arrow did not meet the deck of a ship then possibly the chest or other body part of one of Darien's men. Darien did not go do without a fight, but he failed brilliantly. He ordered the canons to be fired at us, but their aim was off, hitting the rocky cliff side and not the desired target above. The canons would continue to hit the exposed earth as the battle came to a close.

***

My nose was welcomed by the stench of blood and my ear by the sound of moans of pain. Francis and I walked inside of a tent together and down a long aisle of men, mostly his bowmen, who had arrows stuck in just about any area of the body one could name. I could see the fear in their eyes as physicians approached in their bloodied apron, armed with a saw to remove the body part. Francis moved amongst them, saying words of comfort to those who will live with their injuries; to the dying, promises that their loved ones would be taken care of. My feet guided me forward, leaving Francis to his actions. I just walked slowly towards the end of the tent. The blood did not do me any good; it only made me feel like blacking out. When I was younger, I endured the awful stench with all my might to prove to my father that I was his little warrior, his little fighter.

A white cloth stood in front of me. It was a barrier between me and the sounds of pain coming from the other side. My father gave my shoulder a gentle squeeze, causing my eyes to look at him. His dark beard reminded me of the men called Vikings that he told me stories about. He was a gentle giant, standing a few inches over six feet, making me feel small at my five feet and five inches.

"Eleanor, you do not have to do this. It is alright to wait until you are a little older," he said carefully. With his eyes he told me not to, but he could see my defiance.

"Papa, how will this be any different from the bodies on the battlefield? Besides, I have seen enough blood already for my sixteen years," I stated, gaining a chuckle from my father as he shook his head at my joke about the female anatomy. The smile that came with his chuckle faded and his eyes were filled with sadness.

"The bodies you saw have already suffered; they have already tried in fighting death. The men beyond this flap are using every ounce of strength and mind they have left to try and defeat death. Unlike the bodies on the battlefield, these men are still fighting, and most of them are nowhere near victory."

What my father said to me a decade ago would finally become relevant once the crown was placed upon my head and I was deemed responsible for the well-being of an entire nation. I had faced death before, its voice in my ear as it told me to give up, to let my heart stop beating. Death did not have the honor of taking my life that day, nor will it get that chance again any time soon.

"My - my queen," called out a pained voice. I turned to my right to find a young man lying on a cot, his blood stains dotted along the white. His chest was bound numerous times, but even with the binding the wound did not stop bleeding. The poor man was dying. The color had drained from his skin and his lips were no longer a light shade of pink. My eyes blinked a few times before I recognized him; the soldier whom I talked to before I met with Darien. Without even noticing, I found myself sitting on a stool next to his cot, giving him a sad smile.

"Hello, William." I saw his eyes light up a bit that I remembered his name, and a faint smile was formed on his lips. William stretched out his hand, wincing at the pain he had to experience. I took it in mine, giving it a light squeeze.

"My bird, Aura, she's gone," William said in a broken voice as tears began to pool in his eyes. He turned his face from mine and let out a laugh. "Forgive me, Your Majesty, I cannot help myself. To see her fall from the sky, to hear pain and the splash of water indicating she now belonged to the ocean."

I shook my head, making him turn back towards me. "Believe me, if I saw my bird shot down in front of me, I would be in the same state of sadness that you are in." William nodded to me as he slowly released my hand.

"I am dying. I can feel it. My body is trying to work to save me but it will not win. I am not afraid, Your Majesty. Soon I will be reunited with my Aura. But what of my mother? She is a widow. Already she has lost two of her children to the hunger and now she will be childless . . ."

Williams's voice began to fade as his eyes closed. I could faintly hear in breathing as it slowed. His chest slowed its rising and falling as the boy began to breathe his last. This was new to me, having to sit by someone and watch death overcome them. "I will make sure your mother knows that her son fought valiantly and that he did not pass from this world in vain," I promised in a hush voice, like a child whispers to an adult.

Before death conquered him, William let out four syllables, four words. Never would I forget them.

"Long live the Queen."