literature

Al-Iraman's Final Stand

Deviation Actions

RudiciusCaesar's avatar
Published:
9.1K Views

Literature Text

Mira stirs beneath the covers on her temporary bed back in the Elven capital of Laritiel. She’s groggy and a little dizzy. Slowly rolling onto her back from her left side, Mira struggles to move the entirety of her pregnant frame. Opening her eyes, Mira sees the room spinning around her. The dazed, golden haired warrior looks down and sees her belly lifting the covers high above the rest of her body. Running her right hand’s fingers through her hair, Mira slowly twists and turns to try and stand. As she does, Irina runs up to her shouting, Mira can barely understand her companion’s words.

“M-Mira! You’re awake! Are you ok? Can you hear me?” Irina says as she kneels down at Mira’s side and tries to meet Mira’s dazed eyes with her own. Mira eventually lifts her hand and holds out her arms, beckoning Irina to help her stand. Irina obliges with her only good hand, aiding Mira in standing. Mira is wearing a simple black nightgown that goes down to her knees. She begins to walk with the aid of Irina, who shouts for the others. Romanos and the girls run in quickly and greet the pregnant warrior.

“Mira, you’re alright! Are you hungry? Come, let’s get you something to eat.” Romanos says as he turns to go gather a meal for his wife. Before he can, Mira grabs his right and with her own and pulls him close.

“W-what time is it? H-how long have I been out?” Mira questions with a raspy voice.

“Two days. Come, eat, we will catch you up.” Romanos replies as he turns and takes his wife’s hands and leads her two the coffee table by the window that Mira and Romanos shared a quiet peace with when they arrived in Laritiel. Mira flops into the great armchair, followed by her daughter, Katarina, and Irina’s daughter, Lidia. The two children snuggle close to Mira, drawing a smile from the tired mother.

Romanos returns with Alwin and Gwen, bringing some food with them. They pull up more chairs and eat together. It is night time, two days after Al-Iraman’s attempt on the city. Heavier snow falls upon the restless Elven city. After eating her fill, Mira returns to her usual self and demands answers and updates. Romanos stands and heads to the window, then turns and begins to update Mira.

“After Al-Iraman struck you, we retreated back to the city to regroup. Seranth sent a light cavalry unit to pursue and harass Al-Iraman’s forces but they quickly withdrew as Al-Iraman’s reinforcements arrived. She didn’t have many but enough to force us onto the defensive again.” Romanos begins.

“After holding up in the city, Al-Iraman laid siege for only a few hours before withdrawing herself. I wage she was not ready for a lengthy siege. After she retreated, scouts were sent out again. Four to be exact, one came back with pertinent information.” Romanos continues.

“Y-yeah, what is it? Spit it out.” Mira gruffly questions with a raised lip.

“Al-Iraman and her remaining forces, less than one thousand troops, have taken refuge in an old mountainside fortress. Surrounded by a wooden palisade and sprawling through the mountains to the north of the city, Al-Iraman has choked the city’s northern supply route. Her units have also attacked the countryside, pillaging anyone who does not immediately surrender.” Romanos answers.

“Cursed wench. We much go after her!” Mira shouts, startling Katarina. Mira pauses and hugs her daughter, provoking a smile.

“Seranth has already received orders to march in the morning. He was worried you would not be able to join. I told him you would be there.” Romanos says as he walks up to Mira and lays a hand on her shoulder.

“Huh? You figured I would never miss a fight, right?” Mira playfully asks.

“No, I just figured a little lightning wouldn’t keep you down for long.” Romanos says with a chuckle. Mira laughs in reply. The tightknit group continues their evening activities and manages to inform Seranth of Mira’s recovery. After a good night’s rest, Mira and her compatriots rejoin the advancing army of Queen Vitaria. Over five thousand soldiers strong supported by infantry, cavalry, archers, mounted archers, and catapults, the army moves steadily to Al-Iraman’s bastion.

Donning her full maternity armor yet again, Mira rides alongside the Elven commanders. Given a long, flowing white cape, trimmed in gold, Mira, Alwin, and Romanos ride as honored guests in the war against Al-Iraman. Seranth himself rides at the front of the siege unit. After only a few hours, the Elven army reaches its destination. The stone fortress is carved right into the mountain. A large brick fortification rests at base of the mountain while further facades appear along the mountain’s ridges. The entire fortress, surrounded by its palisade is under the shadow of the mountain top, which hangs over significantly, darkening the entire area.

“Clearly, no better place for a Dark Elf to hold up.” Alwin remarks as he points lazily towards the imposing structure. Romanos nods in agreement. Romanos joins the Elven heavy cavalry this time, equipped with a lance and round shield; reminiscent of his days with Emperor Basil II’s cavalry. The entire army begins to draw up along battle formations. As they do, Al-Iraman walks to the main balcony and leans over the railing, gazing at the impending onslaught.

“So they really mean to fight me here? Fools. Vartooz, bring me a hairband!” Al-Iraman shouts back to her bodyguard as she applies a new layer of purple lipstick to her ebony lips. Vartooz responds and quickly binds her gravid master’s hair up in a large bun. Al-Iraman then sends her messengers to inform Gar-Uro to take up arms. Within only a few minutes, the entirety of her small, but devoted army takes to the defenses.

“Lady Mira, a moment. Queen Vitaria has commanded me to bestow this sword upon you for this battle. Her majesty says it is payment for your honorable slaying of Aknor.”  Seranth says as he hands Mira a long, thick, two-handed sword.

“Seranth…thank you, I shall use it well today. It will make a fine cavalry sword.” Mira says as she unsheathes the long blade. It is about five feet long with a thick blade, about as wide as a human hand. Mira takes a few swings using her dominant right hand. The swings are labored but skillful. Mira then switches to a two-handed grip, wielding the blade with greater efficiency. Sheathing the saber until its time is needed; Mira waits for the moment to strike.

Seranth’s catapult team begins their bombardment only to be met by counter fire from Al-Iraman’s own artillery. Archers from both sides begin their volleys while the infantry defends itself ably from the airborne assault. Mira and the cavalry units move out of range for their safety. Alwin joins the cavalry archers in making routine passes around the battle field, volleying as they go. As the initial phases of the battle begin, Mira and Romanos eagerly await a breach in the palisade. Seranth had communicated to them that the second there is a breach; the infantry will start storming in. When the opportunity presents itself, the cavalry will spill in and join the infantry in surrounding the fortess’s main structure.

As the battle continues, Mira grows restless for her revenge. Disgusted by the cowardly magic of Al-Iraman and disappointed in her failed battles with Gar-Uro, Mira begins to trot back and forth on her mount. Eventually the predicted hole emerges and the infantry from both sides clash in another nasty melee. Another breach opens as the wooden wall collapses on the other side. The cavalry, with Mira and Romanos pour in. Drawing her large Elven blade, Mira cleaves into Al-Iraman’s supporters with ease. Romanos plows through poorly grouped units of infantry. His lance breaks after a few charges and thus resorts to his traditional sword. After only a few moments of brutality, the army surrounds the base of Al-Iraman’s fortress.

“My lady…the enemy have surrounded the base and are beginning to apply pressure to the field marshal’s command post.” Vartooz says as she brings Al-Iraman her red dress up to her. The Dark Elf stands in the corner of her room, naked, dressing for battle. She is standing there, stoic and nearly frozen. Her dark blue skin is out in the open, barely her large, protruding pregnancy. An off black line runs down the center of her belly and ends in a black swirl around her belly button. Her belly button is pressed flat by the weight of the heir inside her womb. Her areolas are an even darker black and she is void of hair save for her long, jet black hair that remains in the bun that Vartooz put up.

“Relax, we have them right where we want them.” Al-Iraman says as she takes the red dress from Vartooz and slides it over her pregnant body. Pulling it down, tight around her curves, Al-Iraman holds herself still as Vartooz attaches her mater’s reflective black armor. First the metal brassiere that holds her breasts firmly in place. Then the metal shoulder pads and finally her long black sleeves. Al-Iraman grabs a set of earrings with a collection of blue, red, yellow, and purple beads hanging from them in a particularly elaborate fashion. After finishing her main outfit, Al-Iraman grabs a pair of red high heels and pulls her dress down to the limit it can go; just above her knees.

“Vartooz, a blade, please.” Al-Iraman commands Vartooz, who promptly brings Al-Iraman a thin, sheathed straight sword. Al-Iraman attempts to tie the belt around her waist but struggles with the girth of her belly. She pauses and looks upwards with a grunt before resolving to simply carry the sword. Leaning out over the balcony for a brief moment to witness the stalemate forming below her fortress, Al-Iraman turns back to Vartooz.

“Now is the time, order the battle-mages to strike! You and I will attack from the balcony together!” Al-Iraman shouts as she waves arm in a wide sweeping motion. Vartooz bows in compliance and sends message to the battle-mages. They are a group of twenty elite wizards who serve Al-Iraman. They take up their positions along the various windows and openings throughout the fortress. Several walk down to Gar-Uro’s command post. They all await their queen’s signal. Vartooz returns and takes up position with Al-Iraman on the balcony. Al-Iraman calls down to the armies below using her native tongue.

“Al-Iraman! Al-Iraman! Hear me!” A bloodied Mira says as she waves her sword in defiance. Al-Iraman turns and leans back in astonishment.

“S-she survived?! I…well, she won’t this time. Mira! Congratulations of failing to succumb to power but rest assured, today you will drop dead!” Al-Iraman shouts back before raising both her hands. Vartooz stretches out her own hands and the battle-mages below get into position.

“Now.” Al-Iraman says calmly as she throws her hands down; her beaded earrings jingle as she flings seven fireballs to the battlefield below, igniting anything that they can. Vartooz replies by throwing seveal of her own, scorching many on the way down. The battle-mages begin their attack, throwing fire and lightning down on the army of Queen Vitaria. Soldiers die en masse as they scramble to readjust themselves in the face of the magical assault.

“H-haha, g-good. Continue the bombardment and when their numbers are thinned, Gar-Uro will lead the counterattack and then we will march back to Vitaria’s city and end all of this!” Al-Iraman commands to Vartooz as she wipes sweat from her forehead. Al-Iraman walks back into her room and sits on her bed while Vartooz nods in acceptance and continues to lead the magical bombardment.

“M-Mira! Where are you?!” Romanos shouts as he struggles to maintain control of her startled horse. Within a few moments he sees Mira racing through the confusion atop her steed. Romanos quickly catches up to her and the couple manage to withdraw beyond the palisade. Alwin is already there, having successfully avoided the magical barrage.

“We need to find a way to eliminate those wizards!” Mira shouts while shaking her fist with rage.

“I can pick them off one by one but I need some cover. If I could get some help too, that would be great.” Alwin says as he pulls out his English longbow and draws an arrow. Romanos rides to get Seranth. After a brief discussion, Seranth orders some Elven archers to assist Alwin. Mira remains on her steed while Romanos dismounts and joins Alwin and the other archers on foot as they fight through the flames and make their way through the continuing melee. Joined by infantry, Romanos raises his shield and wades through the battlefield, protecting the archers.

After a few moments of progression, Alwin and the archers reach their positions and fire away. Six of the battle-mages are picked off in the initial targeted assault. Seeing this, Gar-Uro and his elites, all wearing heavy armor and armed with their longswords, enter the melee on foot, splattering any who get in their way. More time passes and more of the battle-mages fall, struck down by sniping archers. Seeing this, Al-Iraman takes to the balcony again.

“Damn Snow Elves, let’s see how they like this!” Al-Iraman says as she pounds her fists on the stone balcony before raising them high above her head. Sweat rolls down her face and along all her curves. Within a few seconds, a white flash appears in between her raised hands. Al-Iraman smiles and then chucks the white magical mass down to the battle below. As it spirals, it unravels into a massive, winding blizzard. Mixing with the flames and lightning, the snow adds to the mist and haze that obscures the vision. Gar-Uro and his elites take advantage of this and continue to cut through.

“No…enough of this, will none of you ride with me!?” Mira shouts back to the remaining Elven cavalry. The officers look back at her with confused expressions; clearly they do not understand her language. Mira tosses off her helmet before drawing the long, two-handed sword presented to her by Seranth. Mira walks her horse towards the palisade before pausing. She places her left hand on her maternity armor’s center, looks into the misty field, and then charges head long, her long, golden braid trails behind her in a serpentine fashion. Before long, all anyone can see of Mira is the horse beneath her and her white cape flowing.

Alwin and the archers continue to do their work while Romanos and the infantry engage with Gar-Uro and his men. The snow continues to swirl and coil around all on the battlefield. Each warrior disengages from formation and enters their personal duel. Elven swordsmen, fellow countrymen slay each other as Al-Iraman watches the chaos unfold. Gar-Uro fights down to the snow covered field below. One of Queen Vitaria’s generals rushes into a duel with the imposing Dark Elf. After only a quick flurry of strikes, he is slain by Gar-Uro’s greatsword. Seeing this through the haze of battle, Romanos approaches.

“No more games. I challenge you.” Romanos says as he points his Byzantine spatha straight at Gar-Uro. Romanos casts off his Elven helmet and tears loose his long, black hair. Snow clings to his armor and his mighty beard as he calmly continues his advance. Throwing his dented shield to the side, Romanos takes a two-handed grip.

“Human…you’re still alive? Impressive. Let us finish this.” Gar-Uro replies as he too, casts off his helmet and marches forward. Reaching a good proximity from each other, Romanos strikes an aggressive stance. Gar-Uro responds with lowering his sword in a defensive posture. Though tall in his own world, Romanos is much shorter than the large, lanky Elven field marshal.

“And after I slay you, I will find your wife. Her soft body will part easily before my blade.” The one-eyed warrior says as he takes a step closer to Romanos. Romanos grunts and charges forward, bringing his saber down diagonally from the left. Gar-Uro parries it with his sword and in a swirling motion, counterattacks. Romanos, keen to his own defensive, brings his sword up. Holding it with his left and putting the flat part of the blade in his right palm, he presses back against Gar-Uro’s blade.

“You are not as strong as you think.” Romanos says with a smirk. Gar-Uro raises his eyebrows in annoyance, Romanos then quickly disengages and walks back, taking a few steps up towards the fortress’s main entrance. Gar-Uro slowly follows. The two slash at each other and trade positioning on the stairs. Romanos loses the high ground as Gar-Uro takes the offensive, rushing a few steps up and beyond Romanos. Romanos wastes no time in mimicking his adversary. With each step, their blades clash and cut through the snowy air.

“T-this is getting out of h-hand.” Romanos pants heavily. Gar-Uro too, shows signs of fatigue. Both reach the top of the staircase and are near the entrance to Al-Iraman’s main tower. The battle-mages continue their assault, as does the entirety of the battle. Romanos pauses for a moment to look out the periphery of his right eye. He sees a lone rider cutting through the snow. It is Mira, his beloved Rus’ wife and mother-to-be of his own child. Seeing her reinvigorates Romanos and he charges.

“Let’s finish this!” Gar-Uro shouts in defiance to Romanos’s charge. The two continue their dangerous game of parries and strikes until Romanos dashes in close and hops into the air, head-butting the Dark Elf in the chin. As Gar-Uro recovers from the sudden attack, Romanos presses further. This disoriented Gar-Uro struggles to keep up and fails at the last moment to block the incoming stab from Romanos. He bellows in agony as Romanos’s sword pushes straight through his armor.

“And now for your head!” Romanos shouts as he kicks Gar-Uro off his sword. A trail of blood splatters to the ground as the field marshal falls back against the wall behind him. He slides down and brings his sword up and blocks the first slash of Romanos’s sword. Romanos slashes again, knocking Gar-Uro’s own blade away and with a third slash, takes his head clean off just below the chin.

“I-I did it…I did it!” Romanos quickly shouts. Raising his sword high and shouting at the top of his lungs, the armies freeze. Everyone turns to see Romanos standing victorious over Gar-Uro’s corpse. Mira, still atop her mount and in mid swing, pauses. Lowering her blade she dismounts her horse and slaps its rear, sending it to safety. The armies continue to their paused state. Mira wades through the confusion without any harm.

“G-Gar…Gar-Uro is dead?!” Al-Iraman shrieks as she looks down from her balcony. Vartooz pulls her back and orders more of her bodyguards down to reinforce the failing situation. Mira walks up her husband and wraps her arms around him. Pressing her full pregnant weight into Romanos, Mira lays a kiss on his lips.

“Hold the assault down here, it’s my turn now. I will capture Al-Iraman and we will drag her back to Seranth.” Mira says with a calm tone as she slowly walks past her husband. Her right hand locked with his till she pulls away. Entering the fortress’s bottom, Mira peers up to find the staircase leading up. Soon the shouts of war resume along with the brutality. Taking a deep breath, Mira raises her Elven sword and charges the stairs. She comes to the first floor and rushes to the windows where two of the remaining battle-mages stand. One casts a fireball straight for Mira, who simply bats it away with her sword. With a single horizontal slash, she bisects the first battle-mage and then leaps straight for the second one, impaling him on the end of her blade. Removing her sword, Mira quickly charges for the second set of stairs. A final battle-mage greets her on the stairs only to be slain before he can even cast his spell.

Four armed guards run down the final flight of stairs and engage the might Mira. Lifting her sword high, Mira pulls it down with her all her might, killing on guard in a single swipe. The remaining three falter before the maternal warrior, who quickly slays them as well. Finally, Mira stomps her way to Al-Iraman’s room and kicks the door open.

“Witch! Time to answer for your crimes!” Mira yells as she stands up straight and catches her breath. Standing tall, Mira’s armor is bloodied and battered. Melting snow slides down from her body, sliding down the curves of her scale mail armor that surrounds her pregnant belly. With her presence well established, Vartooz takes her stand, drawing her own sword. She wearing light black armor trimmed in red, Vartooz casts off her cape. Mira’s bloodied and torn cape hangs in tatters. She smiles and tears it off.

“There is no way you can defeat both of us.” Al-Iraman says as she walks into view. She slowly pulls her short straight sword from its sheath and tosses it aside.

“Surrender. Even if you manage to hold me at bay, my husband and the others will be here soon. Your army is down to barely two hundred soldiers. This is the end.” Mira says as she takes a few steps into the room. Vartooz quickly dashes up in front and holds out her sword with her right hand and leaves her left hand free. Al-Iraman takes a step back and scoffs.

“Being pregnant must burn your intelligence away. Foolish Rus’, I still have a way out and I will live to fight another day. Besides…if worst comes to worse, I could just wait fifty years and you’ll be long dead.” Al-Iraman chuckles, pointing out Mira’s mortality.

“Save us the trouble and die in childbirth.” Vartooz says as she takes a step closer to Mira, who raises her longsword in response.

“You know, when I was pregnant with my first daughter, my water broke mid battle. I’m pretty sure I won’t have that problem this time around.” Mira smiles. She pauses and then darts forward, smacking Vartooz’s sword back. Ready for a reply, Vartooz fires a single wave of flame out at Mira, who dashes out of the way. However, while focusing on Vartooz, Mira is unaware of Al-Iraman’s attack.

“Freeze! Let death’s cold embrace take you!” Al-Iraman shouts as a wave of freezing wind rushes through the room and passes over Mira, pushing her up against the wall. Shards of ice begin to flail about and cut into Mira’s skin. Several shards bounce of her maternity armor, her scale-mail deflecting the shards ably. Mira pulls herself down from the wall and pushes forward against Al-Iraman’s attack. Suddenly, with all her might, Mira races forward and plows into the pregnant Dark Elf with all her might, sending Al-Iraman to the floor with a loud thud.

Vartooz races forward and applies her swift swordplay against Mira’s. Al-Iraman struggles under the weight of her pregnant belly for a bit before darting up. She wipes another wave of sweat from her brow and then charges. The two Dark Elves slash wildly at Mira. Mira swings her blade but each time, Vartooz is able to duck or dodge aside. Even Al-Iraman in her gravid state is too fast for Mira’s longsword. Mira quickly tosses it aside and draws her long, red hilted saber and resumes the battle.

“Really?! Freeze me?! First of all, you know where I’m from. I’m no stranger to the cold. Second, I have a little furnace in me; perhaps you’re the one whose pregnancy has addled the brain.” Mira taunts Al-Iraman as she slashes back at Vartooz. Mira’s swordplay is simply too fast for the two Elves who dash out of the way but are unable to counter properly. Mira then knees Vartooz in the belly and then swiftly side-kicks her into the wall. Al-Iraman leaps unto her dresser and then down at Mira, slicing through the air. She catches Mira’s left arm, drawing blood.

“Die!” Al-Iraman shrieks as she turns her sword for a stab at Mira. The injured but dauntless Mira parries Al-Iraman’s stab and allows her to pass. Mira then strikes Al-Iraman in the back with the hilt of her sword, sending the pregnant pretender to the floor. Al-Iraman throws her sword away and puts both her hands out to catch herself as not to squash her belly.

“N-no…curse you…” Al-Iraman laments as she spits and coughs in response to Mira’s blow. Mira stops her assault and catches her breath. Before she can apprehend Al-Iraman, Vartooz fires a steam of lightning at Mira. Her metal armor only makes the blast worse. Vartooz pulls Mira to the balcony with her lightning and throws her against the railing. Mira drops her sword several feet away before rolling to the floor in a wave of smoke and sparks.

“Good! Kill her! Gut her now!” Al-Iraman says as she slowly comes to her feet. Vartooz grabs her sword and lunges at Mira, who reaches up and grabs Vartooz’s wrists and pushes back with all her might but this time, Mira’s strength begins to fail. As Vartooz’s blade slowly descends closer to Mira’s chest, Mira hears Romanos shouting from below the balcony.

“Mira! Mira!” Romanos shouts up after felling another one of Al-Iraman’s soldiers. By now, Alwin has joined the melee at the stairs. Seeing the situation, he throws his sword aside and grabs his bow. Romanos kicks aside an incoming enemy and Alwin readies a single arrow. Mira, hearing the voice of her husband has renewed strength. She kicks Vartooz back, who stands straight up. As she does, Alwin releases his arrow which strikes Vartooz right in the chest, through her armor.

“Guh!” Vartooz gasps and coughs up blood as she waddles back into the room. Al-Iraman screams out to her faithful bodyguard who spits up more blood before falling to the ground on her right side. Enraged, Al-Iraman fires a wave of her own lightning at Mira. Prepared this time, Mira rolls out of the way and passes by Al-Iraman. The frantic and incredibly pregnant Al-Iraman fires more and more blasts, each one failing to hit the agile Mira. As Al-Iraman tears her own room apart, Vartooz raises and grabs Mira’s own saber. With what little strength she has, she charges at Mira.

“Stop! You’re beaten!” Mira yells as she holds out both her hands, pleading for the injured Vartooz to relent. She does not. Mira blocks the strikes with her gauntlets before reaching down, grabbing her Elven longsword and bringing it up, smacking her saber out of Vartooz’s hands. Vartooz instinctively begins to charge another spell. Mira, having her fill of magic, pushes forward, slamming the tip of her sword into Vartooz’s belly. The blade pushes straight through, bursting out Vartooz’s lower back. With a single cry, she spats up more blood and falls limp.

“V-Vartooz? No…Vartooz!” Al-Iraman says as tears stream down her face. She kneels down and weeps for the loss of her companion. Mira pulls her sword out and drops it to the ground with a loud clang. She stands tall, covered in Vartooz’s own blood, which runs down Mira’s belly before dripping to the ground. Al-Iraman herself kneels in her bodyguard’s blood.

“Stop this. Surrender. Please. I don’t have the stomach for this anymore.” Mira says as she looms over Al-Iraman, who falls back on her rear and places her right hand out to her side, propping herself up, while her left hand rubs her own pregnant belly. Mira looks down at the defeated Dark Elf. Al-Iraman looks away from Mira with sadness in her eyes and in her heart. Mira then walks towards Al-Iraman who quickly skitters away in fear.

“Stop. I already told you, I’m done fighting.” Mira says as she walks up to Al-Iraman and kneels down next to her. The two pregnant maidens meet each other’s eyes and then Al-Iraman speaks.

“I am beaten. Finished. Go ahead. Take me back to Vitaria so they can behead me like the public idiocy I have become.” Al-Iraman says as she throws out her arms, lifting her hands towards Mira. Mira simply takes Al-Iraman’s hands and lowers them.

“You have failed, this is true. But you still have a way out of this…if you want.” Mira says, her azure eyes light up with the possibility of her suggestion.

“How?! My army is destroyed, Gar-Uro is dead….V-Vartooz is dead…” Al-Iraman replies with tears at the edges of her crimson eyes.

“Vartooz was more than a bodyguard. I see that now. She was your friend. I…I’m sorry.” Mira says as she finally sits down on the cold stone floor. Both pregnant women rest against the back wall, their large bellies dominating their posture.

“I knew her for years…” Al-Iraman says as she tears her hair free, letting the shoulder length black hair fall in frenzy.

“She should have surrendered but…she never would have. She was too proud and too loyal to my ambition.” Al-Iraman continues as she laments her friend’s death.

“Gar-Uro was loyal as well and died a warrior’s death. So did Vartooz but you’re no warrior and I’m not in the business of leading expectant mothers to their deaths.” Mira says as she turns to meet Al-Iraman’s gaze again. Both women put their hands on their own bellies and stare at each other for a moment.

“Though you must atone for your wrong doing, you will not die here.” Mira whispers to Al-Iraman. As she does, the roars of the army below, victories in defeating the last of Al-Iraman’s supporters echo through the fortress.

“T-they will be here soon! They will kill me on the spot!” Al-Iraman says as she jumps to her feet and runs for the balcony. Before she can leap to her death, Mira grabs her and pulls her back. Holding her hands and attempting to stop Al-Iraman’s flailing suicide, Mira speaks.

“You have a way out of this. Stop, listen to me.” Mira says as she presses her armored belly next to Al-Iraman’s own child-filled abdomen. Mira then stands back and continues to speak.

“Just light this room on fire, light this whole place on fire. I will race out and tell the others below that you were killed in the flames. You can surely escape right?” Mira suggests, gesturing around the room. Al-Iraman follows Mira’s hand as it passes over the room. Her furniture, her bed, her clothes, all can be set alight.

“I-I can but w-what do I do afterwards?! I can’t be myself! They will find me!” Al-Iraman cries out.

“You already speak my language. Perhaps you can flee to the Rus’ lands. With the help of some money…some gold.” Mira says as reaches into Al-Iraman’s dresser and pulls as much coin out as she can. Stuffing it into another set of Elven maternity clothes, she hands it to Al-Iraman.

“But lose the armor.” Mira says as she draws her dagger, startling Al-Iraman. Mira quickly slices the strips of leather that hold her armor on, letting it tumble to the floor.

“Al-Iraman…sell those earrings too. I’m sure they’re worth a lot.” Mira says as she sheaths her dagger with a smile. Al-Iraman nods and then looks around her room, her eyes resting on Vartooz.

“Go…now. I will cremate my friend and my fallen soldiers but know this, all I ever wanted was a chance at being someone. Not just another Dark Elf noble who’s excluded simply because of her ethnicity.” Al-Iraman says as she clutches the gold in her clothes against her bosom. She then looks down at her belly.

“I will leave this land and give my child a chance at life though wherever I go, I will be an alien.” Al-Iraman says, pointing out the difficulty of Mira’s suggestion to live in the Rus’ lands.

“But you must live. Live for your child. Live for your friend.” Mira says as she slowly walks towards the exit of Al-Iraman’s bedroom. Grabbing all her things, sheathing all her blades, Mira turns back to Al-Iraman with her strong smile.

“Besides, you can always been queen of your own home, wherever it may be.” Mira says as she walks through the threshold of Al-Iraman’s room.

“I knew there was something to you. I like you, knew it from the time we met at the party…alas, may we meet another day under less violent circumstances, Mira.” Smiling in response, Al-Iraman holds out her right hand and in a single flash, her entire room is engulfed in flames. The flames eat her furniture, her curtains, what’s left of her expensive clothing, and even swarm over Vartooz’s remains. Al-Iraman nods her head and walks through the flames parting them before disappearing under unknown means. Mira runs down the stairs as the fire spread, engulfing the whole structure.

Exiting the fortress, Mira joins Romanos, Alwin, and Seranth at a safe distance. The flames warp and destroy the wooden supports and warp the cold stone, causing it to crack and collapse. Al-Iraman’s balcony collapses, burying the corpse of Gar-Uro. The smoke rises to the heavens as the victorious army withdraws back to Laritiel. There, Mira rejoins her family and is given a hero’s welcome. Meeting with Queen Vitaria one last time and staying only a few more days, Mira departs the Island of Elfrein. Traveling to the coast, Seranth joins Mira and has parting words.

“You have done us a great service. Our people know unity again, or at least they will in time.” Seranth says to Mira with a somber tone.

“I just wish it didn’t come to this.” Mira says.

“Indeed. My cousin’s throne is secure while my other cousin is slain. The intrigues of royalty.” Seranth says, referencing his relationship to Vitaria and Al-Iraman.

“Perhaps it was meant to be, perhaps it isn’t even what it seems.” Mira says a faint smile as she climbs into the boat that will take her back home. Seranth lift his eyes in shock only to look down and back up at Mira. Realizing the reality of her words, he goes to speak but is cut off by Mira.

“The threat has subsided. Goodbye Seranth, you’re always welcome in our lands.” Mira says as she waves goodbye to Seranth. Seranth sighs deeply and waves back, reassured that Mira’s actions have indeed brought his people peace.

Mira then walks to the edge of the boat, her back to the sun. She’s wearing the same embroidered red dress she wore into Elfrein. Leaning up against the railing of the boat, the warm magical winds of Elfrein begin to subside and give way to the cold artic winds above the Rus’ lands. Romanos walks up from behind and wraps a heavy, deer skin cloak around Mira and hugs her from behind. He rests his hands on her pregnant hips as she leans back into him. Mira closes her eyes as she hears the sea birds that follow the ship cry out, the sounds of Irina playing with Katarina and Lidia, and Alwin and his wife Gwen, gossiping about the events that all transpired just a few days ago.

“Maybe someday…” Mira whispers aloud not to Romanos, but to Al-Iraman, wherever she is. Romanos hears and looks down but does not ask. Mira then turns and takes his hand. The two then walk towards the cabin of their ship, greeted by the family and friends.
So this title isn't great. Actually, none of the titles for this saga are particularly good lol. Maybe I will change them someday. Anyways, this is the final part of my Mira story involving the Elves of the Island of Elfrein. No spoilers in this part so read the damned story. Let me know what you guys think, point out grammar errors as always. Let me know if you think it has enough detail. Can you see the fights? Can you see the events unfold? If so, I did this right. If not, I fucked up and need to try again. So yeah, this entire storyline was another nod to Skyrim (if you couldn't tell). Now I gotta go...my right hand is killing me. 
© 2015 - 2024 RudiciusCaesar
Comments5
Join the community to add your comment. Already a deviant? Log In
Kaijugame's avatar
Interesting read!  I certainly liked how the magic and tactics were used in this story.  The spelling errors were more of words being used incorrectly.  Spell checker wouldn't catch them.  I only saw like three though so just do a once over and you'll find 'em.  Overall i liked the descriptions, and the resolution.  It's good to see that your characters acknowledge that not everything is black and white.