Young Writers Society

Grey light filtered through the clouds that deadened the sky. As she looked out one of the many windows of her inner chambers, Artisy willed the clouds not to open up and rain. At least these clouds were natural. In the recent months there had been eerie storms that came on thickly and too fast, lasting for too long, with harsh rains that washed everything away, from fields and energy, to the mage crafted protections of the country. These bewitched storms made her skin crawl with unease, making her jumpy and short-tempered. At storm time she kept constant company with Lisidy reading or drawing together or with Advisor Roliden, talking of palace or state business, or sometimes just gossiping. Artisy preferred solitude most of the time, but these unnatural storms undid her, and they were coming more and more frequently. The last thing Cima needed at this point was more rain and thunder and wind.

She looked out at the courtyard, inspecting for the thousandth time her view of the outer gardens without really seeing it. She focused her eyes on the diamond pattern of the window leading, rather than the scenery beyond. A new power had sprung up in the world, seemingly overnight. An intensely patriotic, but vicious army that called themselves the Kalathamori, the Right Ones, and lead by a self-righteous mage king who called himself Ragdimord, or The Perfect One. They lay like a serpent around Cima’s boundaries, constricting to suffocate its prey. They preached an ideology of a utopian society, but if all were not swayed immediately, they proceeded to wipe out the opposition until none resisted or all were gone. Her own armies had engaged the enemy in a flat expanse of open land between to small farming communities in the northwest. It had been late summer last year and blisteringly hot, according to the reports. Heat stroke had claimed just as many casualties as battle weapons. The enemy had fought with an impressively well-trained mage force. None of her generals had been expecting that, and they lost ground. Artisy began consulting with Grand General Hitaku nearly exclusively after that, as he’d been the one to formulate and pull off the strategy that that had pushed back the Kalathite forces, temporarily pushed them back that is.

Artisy sighed again, and the hand on the glass became a fist. Lisidy came bursting into the room, her light steps muffled by the thick patterned rug. Artisy saw Lisidy’s reflection beside hers in the windowpane, both images broken by the leading. Artisy turned to her sister when she noted the grin upon her sister’s face.

“It’s nice to see you look so happy,” said Artisy in a quiet sweet tone, her demeanor softening in her sister’s presence. “Have you been excused from your lessons today?”

“Advisor Roliden has finally returned,” Lisidy beamed. Lisidy adored Lord Roliden, Artisy’s young chief advisor, much as she had adored her older brother. But while Magris had had always been aloof and withdrawn, Lord Roliden was kind and patient and sweet with her. Lord Roliden had been away, speaking with the Generals in the Field and surveying the country in Artisy’s place. He should have been back two weeks ago, and though they had received notes by messenger, they hadn’t head from him directly for even longer.

Artisy sagged gently against the windowsill, some of the tension slipping out of her shoulders. But as her relief passed she began to wonder what kind news Lord Roliden brought back with him. She didn’t have high hopes. “Have you seen him? Did he look well?”

“He wants to see you in the conference chamber. He said he has urgent news.” Reported Lisidy solemnly.

Artisy was sad to see her sister’s jubilation go so quickly. He mind jumped ahead to what ‘urgent news’ could possibly mean. “I must go speak wit him then. I’m sorry Lisidy, but I doubt we’ll have time for our card game today. Perhaps tomorrow.”

Lisidy nodded with this sort of calm resignedness that made Artisy sad. “Yes perhaps, tomorrow,” she said as though she didn’t actually believe it would happen. She walked over to the breakfasting table in the near side of the room, and sat in one of the chairs. “When is the war going to end? Do you know?” Her intent gaze was focused of Artisy.

Artisy studied Lisidy closely. She had been more like a mother to her than a sister as she had been almost thirteen when Lisidy was born. Their mother had barely had a chance to welcome Lisidy into the world before she had left it for good. She gazed with affection at her sister’s oval face, round and soft with youth. Her pale hair plaited neatly down her back, not yet old enough to have it bound and woven atop her head. Lisidy had just turned ten, and her soft green eyes were intelligent. As much as she wanted to reassure her baby sister, she really didn’t have an answer to her question. “I don’t know when the war will end. It will end when the enemy is gone.”

“Artisy, will the Kalathimori come to the Capital City, or the Small Palace? Are we in danger here?” Lisidy questioned further, not easily consoled.

“They are going to try, but my Generals and I are not going to let them.” She said with conviction, and hoped it was true. “In any case,” Artisy continued as she walked to the door, “I must go speak with Advisor Roliden. He is waiting for me in the conference room. Lisidy, could you tell Tisha to have the kitchen send a meal and some water, or some juice.”

“Wait, Artisy,” called Lisidy, and Artisy turned back to her partly, her hand still on the door handle. “Shouldn’t you get properly dressed first before going to your meeting?” Chastised Lisidy.

Artisy was about to protest, but then she realized that she realized that she was only wearing a pale blue shift dress that would need at least a tunic to be decent and her hair was unveiled and unbound. “Tisha come help me dress,” called Artisy frantically as she hurried to her bedchamber. Tisha came through the servant’s back entrance to the Empress’ chambers and arrived in Artisy’s bedroom the same time she did, but from the opposite direction. Tisha bowed deeply before retrieving an azure overdress and a dark green vest with lacing on sides. Tisha straightened and adjusted the dress as Artisy slipped it on over her head.

“Begging your highness’s pardon, but you have got to stop worrying yourself, you’re losing weight. I don’t want to have to take in your clothes, again.” Tisha gave an extra tug on the side laces for emphasis.

“I don’t have time to worry about that right now, Tisha. Please help me with my hair.” Artisy gathered her auburn hair and started trying to twist it into a bun, not really listening.

Tisha was a quiet practical woman in her late thirties. She had been watching over Artisy since she was eight, first as Artisy’s favorite nursemaid, and then as her favorite handmaiden. Over her twelve years of mothering the young Empress, she had developed quite an affection for the girl who’d endured so much tragedy in her young life. Tisha gave a concerned and disapproving look to Artisy for her lack of interest in her own health but didn’t say anything further on the matter. She gently moved Artisy’s fumbling hands out of the way, “Best let me do that, your highness.” Within minutes Artisy’s hair was twisted and wound and pinned, and she ducked away when Tisha tried to put a veil over her hair.

“There’s no time.” She said and left. She was worried that Advisor Roliden would bring word that the Kalathimori had encroached further into Ciman territory, or that the peaceful people in the borderlands had decided that they would be better off just accepting the new regime rather than risk their live in battle. She forced herself not to examine the worst case scenario until she knew what the truth really was. Her heart sank though as the rumbled of thunder sounded and she felt that the storm had changed. She shivered and folded her arms across her chest, rubbing her hands over the soft fabric of her sleeves.

She walked through the open doors of the conference room and shut them behind her. She would deal with the situation privately before bringing in her entire senior staff, and she didn’t need the maid’s gossip running rampant about the fate of the country. She had a feeling that there was no good news in store for her. Roliden was standing looking out the window at the far end of the room. He looked over when he heard the door close, then turned to face the Empress, bowing slightly. He looked rumpled, dusty and exhausted, but worse than that he distant look in his eye, angry and haunted. Artisy stood silently at the other end of the room staring at him for a moment. She took a deep steadying breath and came to stand beside Roliden, both of them facing out of the window.

“What news have you brought me, Lord Roliden,” said Artisy in as businesslike a tone as she could manage.

“Ill news, I’m afraid, Your Majesty. The condition of the country is better in some respects than we had anticipated, but in most respects it is far worse off than any of us had wanted to assume.” Roliden sighed. “We have made a mistake your highness, in fact I believe we have made several of them. I won’t attempt coat this with sugar. We have once again gravely underestimated the ability of our enemy. That is a poor habit to form, if you’ll agree, your highness. The people of the North fear that they have been abandoned to the invaders, and they are right to fear, for, however inadvertently, this is precisely what we have done.”

“How much land have the Kalathamori taken? How much territory have we lost?”

“Three farming districts in the north, four in the north-west, the entire province of Limmar, and they took the capitol of Daidshum Province just as we were passing through.”

“Oh, Roliden, I’m sorry. Your family…?” Artisy’s tone was soft and concerned.

“Is not the present issue,” he said tersely, but at Artisy’s hurt look he sighed and softened his tone. “My parents and younger sister were vacationing at the time, and thus were safe. My brother is on assignment with the ADR, so I know no how safe I can call him, but at least he was away. My older sister was working as the Head Human-Element Mage at the House of the Tarja at the time of the attack. She was killed before she had a chance to flee the building, before she even had a chance to send a call for help.” His tone grave but Artisy could not decipher his emotions, either by his voice or by his face, his expression was utterly closed.

“Roliden, I –“ began Artisy began in an informal, sympathetic tone, but Roliden cut her off.

“With respect you highness, I believe it to be best if we focused on the topic at hand.”

“Damn it, Roliden, this is the topic at hand!” exclaimed Artisy, hitting her fist against the sill for emphasis. “My country is bleeding and I need you to tell me where it’s wounded!” she practically shouted and whirled, taking a few straight backed steps away and then turned and walked back and clasped her hands to make sure she didn’t reach over and touch Roliden’s arm. “You lost your sister because of my failing. I’m sorry. I’m so terribly sorry of all of it.” She spoke in such a small and heartbroken tone that Roliden suddenly remembered that the small woman beside him had barely crossed into adulthood. She was only one and twenty yet she was the most powerful woman in the world. Normally he could forget her youth, her bearing, intelligence and her eloquence overset her youth by far. It was startling and disconcerting to hear his friend, his Empress sounding so like the forsaken girl she indeed was.

“Your Highness, please believe me, you are not at fault. You had no hand in the bringing about the Kalathamori attacks and you certainly did not cause my sister’s death,” said Roliden with great vehemence, but Artisy was clearly not convinced. His sister had worked in a lower level at the imperial palace and when the position of head Human-Element Mage opened up in the Daidshum House of the Tarja Artisy had recommended her for the position that ultimately led to her demise.

“What of the Tarja himself, and his staff?” Artisy asked, stepping over the silence.

“The Tarja was killed, and his chief advisor, the Human-Element staff, And the Head Air-Element Mage, the rest fled or were imprisoned. The Kalathamori have installed one of their own, a General to rule in the Tarja’s, and the military is circulating the capitol. They’re killing anyone who resists. Those who flee are allowed to leave, but they aren’t allowed to take anything with them. I left Colonel Jikra and half the men and they set up a line at the T’Liman Embassy, with the help of the T’Liman International Guard. But we haven’t heard from them in a number of days.”

“Our men have lost the battle then?”

“There has been no word either way.”

“At least that answers the question about the T’Liman Loyalties. Their king and War Advisors had been in deliberation, I’ve been expecting communication from them for a number of days now.”

“The T’Liman’s loyalty to Cima had been called into question? But they’ve been a staunch ally for sixty years now.”

“Ah, but sixty years of peace time alliance is quite a different sort, Advisor, than war time Alliance.” Artisy smiled, a bitter and ironic curve of her lips. “The States of Lasheka have told me most politely that they prefer to remain neutral. They are keeping their sizable Dragon fleet on their side of the eastern mountains and seem most intent in looking in some other direction for the duration of the conflict. I can’t seem to convince them that they are in as much danger as Cima from the Kalathamori, if not more, as they are a small country on a major trade route. They’re idiots for thinking that the Kalathamori won’t exploit them or conquer them as well.”

“Highness, you speak as though we’ve already lost to the invaders. Do you have so little confidence? Yes we made a mistake, several in fact, but our country is out of practice in the making of war and defense. Cima is large, it’s size alone is a defense, and it Mages and ADR are unsurpassed. There’s still more than a little hope for the country.”

“Yes, but what of your sister? She is already gone and cannot be retrieved. What about those farming communities whose lands have been stolen or burned because they wanted to stand with their Empire, their Empress? They are reward for their bravery by death and poverty. This Kalathamori force came out of nowhere. No one saw it coming.”

“Due respect, highness, but I’m sure they cant have come out of nowhere. There must have been some sign of them before they began their invasion. They might have been small indeed, but they must have been there. There is logically no way a force of such magnitude and influence like the Kalathamori can just spring from the earth. Even mountains give warnings before they erupt. And the Seers they must have had some indication.”

“It seems that they defied logic, because the Kalathamori did indeed spring forth without any signs of warning. I did not withhold any information from you, the Light-Element Mages knew nothing. That shouldn’t have happened, it shouldn’t have been possible but it happened.” She paused in thought, closing her eyes for a second. She remained deep in thought for a few seconds, looking as though she was trying to remember something faint and distant. “Or maybe there was warning. Maybe…” she seemed to be speaking to herself more than to Roliden. “Perhaps –“ she began more loudly, but there was a knock at the door and a second later a kitchen orderly came in bearing a food-laden tray. Artisy was still unsure how the orderlies always entered and exited with seeming ease while their arms were full. Even now when so many other things on her mind, it struck her as odd. It was in fact the only thing small enough for her thoughts to latch onto fully. All the other things seemed too large to be contemplating with such seriousness. The shock of her job’s enormity had never ceased or dwindled over the years. The orderly hurried into the dead silent room and put the tray on the table before bowing deeply, looking embarrassed and apologetic for interrupting, and backed out without a word, closing the doors behind him. Artisy doesn’t return to her thought, just sighs in a heart felt way. “Go ahead and eat before it gets cold. I’m sure you haven’t eaten properly since you left and there is no point in unnecessary starvation.”

“Aren’t you going to eat as well?”

“I had breakfast earlier,” she said even though she hadn’t actually, and it was after lunchtime. “I don’t want to eat while I’m discussing official business. But there’s no reason you shouldn’t. I can make that a Imperial order if I must.” She almost sounded playful for the first time in too long.

“I do not believe that will be necessary, highness.”

“Very good.”

Artisy sat at the head of the conference table, and Roliden sat a seat down from her, pouring some juice into a glasses. Roliden handed her a glass and was thankful when she didn’t protest. “I’ve brought map back with me, showing disputed territory, territory lost,” He pulled rumpled map sheets made of semi-transparent parchment from his travel bag and laid them out on top of one another. Each layer depicted a different attribute, water, trees, land forms, armies, cities, mage postings, and magic lay-lines. He ran a hand over the map surface and murmured the Niraish word for activate. The flat layered map transformed into a full color three dimensional miniature projection that took up the entire end of the table, looking half realistic and half like a traditional map. Roliden had to move the tray and pitcher so they didn’t appear as landmarks. “This is the most recent map, but undoubtedly there’ve been some changes since I left the outer most regions. We left the Dragons and ADR men at Boarder Fort and have been traveling horseback ever since. It’s been,” he paused, tapping his finger tips against the edge of the table as he counted back the days, “Goddess strike me, I can’t remember, I lost track of the days for a while, After Daidshum… I apologize empress, my personal troubles impeded my job. It won’t happen again.”

“I understand, Roliden, I understand what it is to lose family, there is no need to apologize for being human. I do, after all, employ only humans as my advisors.” She smiled very softly, but there was sadness pooling in her dark eyes.

“Of course, I didn’t mean to imply…” Roliden’s voice trailed off, uncertain of how to broach the subject. Artisy had lost her parents and her elder brother, at separate times, each time with barely enough space time to climb out of grief before the next tragedy. They had been harsh blows to the country, but it was one thing to lose a Emperor and another to lose a family member. “I didn’t mean to belittle the egregious pain of losing family, I just wanted to be clear that I am aware it affected my duty, and none of us can be in a weakened state right now.” He spoke very gently, calmly, but in a monotone that worried Artisy.

Artisy sighed and focused her attention on the map. A pale yellow line indicated the declared border of Cima, a red line indicated how far inward the Kalathite forces had pushed themselves. The red line was uneven, shooting in some places, in line with the Ciman border, but there were disturbingly large bites taken out of Ciman territory where the Kalathimori had claimed the land for theirs. Artisy waved her had over a particular section, the High Wall, and the Boarder Fort, her hand brushing into the projection. The projection shifted, enlarging the selected sector, and Artisy leaned over it to get a better look. She inspected the boarders and all the country in careful silence, while Roliden obediently ate. The sound of thunder was growing nearer and the sound of the wind blowing the rain against the windows was constant. Finally Artisy lifted her head from the map, her face tinted slightly emerald and gold, from the projection. “This isn’t a promising situation, is it?” She said darkly, “We shouldn’t have lost this much ground, not with the size of our military and mage forces. It’s not possible that my generals and strategists are really that negligent, is it? They aren’t stupid or else we wouldn’t have appointed them, this evidence to the contrary is astounding.” Her voice was getting louder, she’d straightened up to her whole five feet three inches of height, and seemed to be looming taller that that in the dim room. “What of the Colonies, have they shown any interest in those yet, or the islands?” she was pacing, thinking hard.

“Not our colonies, but they’ve taken the lands to the north and west of the mountains that the Chidomna Kingdom laid claim to. Grand General Hitaku has been in contact with Chidomna’s military heads when we were close enough to the mountains to do a single mage scry.”

“But they haven’t approached ours?” repeated Artisy, wanting a simple definitive answer.

“No, Empress, not ours.”

“Good.” She sighed. “get in contact with the Grand General, and tell him…” she trailed off, going over various strategies in her head and rejecting all of them. Politics, diplomacy, arbitration, negotiations, those she had excelled at in training, but battle strategies, fight tactics, she never had been able to accept the destruction, even when it was only simulated. Now she had to be leader to the empire during war, and none of her generals were agreeing and were arguing more than governing. She didn’t have a head for war, and now the big decisions rested on her shoulders. She stared out the window at the thick rain and dim sky and the palace grounds in monochromatic blue gray light. She felt trapped, nearly desperate, and then something shifted and there was only anger. How could he be doing this to her? She was Family too, didn’t he know how much this was hurting all of them?

Artisy whirled, stalked back to the table and swiped her arm across the table, sending the sheets of the map fluttering, the projection shut off, and knocked over the pitcher of juice that rolled to the floor with a hollow clatter. “Nothing, Don’t tell him anything! I can’t do this! He’s trying to ruin me! Why is he doing this?” she slammed her fists on the table, fighting the urge to burst out sobbing. She knew she wasn’t talking about general Hitaku anymore, and so did Roliden. He was standing now, with a confused and worried expression on his face, trying to decide if he should approach her or not. He knew something was wrong, but there were a hundred layers of regulation, propriety and secret matters of state between himself and the young woman a bare few feet away. He remained in place.

“Empress,” He began calmly and carefully, “I’m not sure that I understand. Has Grand General Hitaku acted inappropriately?” He faded off and shook his head. General Hitaku had gone with him on the journey, he would have been aware of communications with the empress and all his actions.

“The grand general has done nothing wrong,” sighed Artisy, looking defeated and limp, “He was not who I was referring to.” She was looking down at the floor, the puddle of pink juice, the scattered map parchments, and the silver pitcher, all on the polished marble floor. She should have been more worried and displeased about their disarray. She knew what Roliden would ask and cut him off before he could speak. “I should not have spoken, it is not for you to worry, advisor,” she said, and it sounded cold and dismissive. She had the power to throw him out of the room them and there, even if she had never done so in the past. She had the power and she had to learn to use it, friendship and feminine weakness be struck by the Goddess. “Leave, Advisor, I must speak with the Head Shadow-Element mage.” And it was done, sharply, and it was a relief even though it left a cold ripped feeling floating inside her chest for a moment.

“Of course, your Highness,” he said after a brief and unreadable hesitation. He bowed and walked out, closing the door behind him. Artisy gingerly picked up the silver pitcher and set it on the tray, and then sagged against the table. She was suddenly unbearably tired. She called in one of the omnipresent guards and had him send for someone to clean up the spill and send for the Head Shadow-Element mage. She then sat at the far end of the table, and stared out at the storm, and let her mind go numb for a while, needing rest.

*please review. does this work at all as a story?