The Heirs of Death

31. Stallions

STALLIONS

I'd never seen the sea at such a rage, not even in the flicker of the Red War's memories. A warrior by its own, a hand of death as it drowned armies and flanks, bowing to the lord drenched and bloodied.

He'd been barely twelve back then, just a young boy wielding a sword and a sea, cutting throats and bringing forces down—they'd all been young back then. And they were all here in this memory, fighting against what looked like half of Eziara's legions barreling on Arelesia's shores.

He was so young, and so terribly powerful, commanding a sea at his sheer will, bending and twisting it to his whims. Waves cresting and breaking at his orders.

There had been an army fighting at the back of the Cardelyon house, court members of those I both did and did not know. Perdiel's twenty three sons and daughters were here, and his wife, too, before they all fell.

All of them, fighting in a war so bloodied, so brutal—and it was nothing but a scrap of what was to come. A godless war, a joke to what Apocalys would do. And yet so many had fallen on the shores I walked through Carter's mind, such a great army rendered to half by the end. We didn't have that army anymore of skilled warriors.

War-torn screams rang in the air, thunder and lighting and rain tearing the skies. Lands trembled, seas attacked, armies marched and lunged, and yet I could only stare at my court, the young faces pale and sick. At Carter, who fought for his home as wildly as a monster liberated from all his chains.

But it was not the shocking strength, nor the unwavering, deadly powers seeping out of him, that had my eyes fixed on him, on his face. On his eyes.

Glowing silver.

Silver—and not the kind that made Hydn and Green Leaf's eyes. No, it was a different shade, a different light. Almost godly. But the Armedes blood, it had always been considered godly by its subjects, a strength made of the ichor that had filled Leander's arteries. He'd been hailed a demi-god, a mortal deity. And those titles had carried on with his bloodline, to each and every Armedes. And Carter, he was one of us, had been in a way no one could understand.     
 
Dier had walked alongside, both of us a wraith through the splattering blood and falling corpses, just like in Saél's memories. 'None,' his voice echoed within me, 'had seen the silver eyes. All of them utterly charmed, and so was I.'

I kept watching silently as the battles kept unfurling, as nights bled into days and so again, as armies approached and retreated through seas and lands, from shores to mountains to the capital's borders.

'This was not a partial war,' I admitted as the memories took us back to the edge of the shores. 'This was a full-forced attack on Arelesia.'

Dier did not comment, his eyes telling me enough that he knew that, the he despised the partial word so thoroughly because it made it sound so small, so easy. He pointed at a cadre of men, all of them robust, wild -looking, barbaric in a way as they rained steel and magic on the demons enclosing around them.  Hair that was thatch of dark curls was slick on their faces and necks, some strands barely swaying with the trashing winds. Twin swords shaped like glaives swung and danced, slitting from navel to sternum.