Chapter 26: The End of Actae
The battle to climb towards the Royal Palace of Ra was nothing short of brutal, especially for the Cainites. When Abel first saw the stairs descending from the floating castle, he thought what anyone with the basic knowledge and experience in military tactics would suspect—that it was a trap.
Enosh concurred also, yet it was a trap that had to be sprung. And so the Cainites did, as the climb towards the castle was an exercise of attrition for the red-skinned Kruptosians. Going up the stairs might as well be a death sentence, as hawkmen warriors attacked from the flanks and castle defenses struck from the front. Those with the wings of fire were the lucky ones—fighting at the flanks, they fought to protect their brethren climbing up the meat grinder of a ladder. Yet significant numbers of them still dropped like flies.
Yet in time, the climb was successful, and the Army of Cain soon planted themselves deep on the forecourt of the Royal Palace. Large numbers of hawk warriors soon retreated themselves inside the palace grounds.
The siege went on for so long that the sound of Cainite anti-air guns became a part of the background, and when it stopped something felt missing for all who was witness to the battle.
And the battle was presumably over, for now.
Abel, Muwatalli, and Asmunikal were resting by a Cainite camp when a Cainite messenger arrived…
“Abel Ramsey of Earth,” he said. “I bear message from Captain Enosh.”
“I see, go on,” responded Abel.
The messenger began, “Our assault to reach the palace grounds is successful. We await for you to join us.”
Muwatalli grinned. “Looks like the Cainite captain needs our help now.”
“We should not keep him waiting,” Asmunikal said. “He had thus far been considerate of us.”
Abel nodded. “Let us go, then.”
With that, Abel went off with Muwatalli, Asmunikal, and the Cainite messenger. There had been a lull in the fighting, and so the trek towards the Royal Palace was rather uneventful.
Or so they would have thought.
Right about halfway through the stairs, a squad of hawk warriors appeared—an ambush. Yet that was not the only one, as more of them could be seen descending from the upper floors of the palace to attack the Cainite-held courtyards.
One hawkman, his lance held in hand, impaled the Cainite messenger, then threw him off the stairs to the ground below, removing all doubt as to the fate of the red-skinned Kruptosian.
Focusing on what was ahead of him, Abel took out his pistol and fired on one hawk warrior, felling him out of the sky. Muwatalli roared, paralyzing the hawkmen with primal fear. Asmunikal saw her opportunity, drew two knives from her scabbards, and threw them at the hands of more hawkmen. The lionesswoman’s aim was true, and struck the hawk hands to disarm them. Abel jetted off with his wings of fire, to finish the job—with his stun baton he struck the disarmed hawkmen in quick succession.
There was one last hawkman, and Muwatalli jumped with lightning quick speed. The Lion Chief leapt so quickly and with so much force that the hawkman simply could not react. Muwatalli grabbed his enemy, and slammed him onto the stairs. A brief tremor shook across the stairs.
“Aiyee,” Asmunikal said, her feminine cry almost a shriek. “Do be careful, brother. We are not on solid ground.”
Muwatalli smiled. “Apologies, sister. I simply got carried away.”
“Let’s not chitchat just yet,” Abel said. “We still need to get to Captain Enosh.”
Asmunikal nodded. “Right.”
Muwatalli was about to respond, but as he was looking down past Abel and Asmunikal, his eyes widened.
“Isn’t that…”
But the jets was already turned up, and Abel was already off to the top of the stairs.
“Wait,” the Lion Chief cried. “Abel of Ramsey!”
***
As Abel flew ever closer towards Enosh, he saw the Dragonguard captain, obsidian blade in hand, struck down a hawkman. Yet the odds weren’t good, the Cainite soldiers were dropping in numbers, and determination alone wouldn’t suffice for survival.
It was at that point Abel saw a hawkman flying behind Enosh, lance ready to strike. The UEC Captain wasted no time, took out his pistol and fired, dropping the hawkman immediately.
Enosh slashed his sword, cutting down another hawkman. But another hawk warrior was flying by to take the place of his fallen brethren. With mace raised up, Enosh was in no position to defend himself. Deathblow all but certain.
But Abel intervened with jet-infused speed, shoving Enosh out of the way. Then his the stun baton dropped the hawk warrior.
The heroics of Abel Ramsey unfortunately was not without cost. Abel soon felt great pain in his arm, and his arm started to bleed; the very arm he used to shove Enosh out of the way had been grazed deep by the lance.
Abel bit his lips, as he resisted the urge to scream on account of his great pain. There was still another hawkman, the last of the sortie as the rest had either fled or been eliminated otherwise.
A thunderous noise rang, and the hawkman clutched his bloody chest before he dropped dead.
Before Abel could even process what was happening, he felt a familiar feeling of comfort and healing, and saw the green aura around his arm. The UEC Captain saw the wound on his arm mending slowly before disappearing altogether. Then, the feminine sound he had been waiting on for quite some time:
“Looks like I came in just in time, Captain.”
Abel looked to see a figure in the black helmet of a Cainite soldier, yet the uniform was all too familiar; she took the helmet to reveal the messy blonde hair, the emerald green eyes, and the beautiful face of…
“Nia!”
“Abel.”
Thus, Captain and Lieutenant, now lovers embraced one another. Abel held Nia tight, the two embracing, faces growing closer to each other’s until their lips were barely apart, ready to close the distance.
But for the voice of Rick. “Hey. Now’s not the time for that.”
Abel and Nia, their faces both flushing red, looked to see not just Rick, but also Muwatalli, Asmunikal, and a squad of lionmen warriors.
Abel, still holding Nia tight, nodded. “Right. My apologies.”
Nia smiled. “Don’t you mean, our apologies?”
“Well,” Abel said. “I’m the Captain here.”
In response, Nia closed her face, and kissed Abel’s cheek.
Abel’s eyes widened. “Lieutenant?”
As Nia separated herself, she still felt heat all over her face. “It’s… um… Melia asked me to.”
“Oh,” Abel said, looking curiously. “Okay.”
And so with great reluctance, the two lovers separated themselves. And for good reason: there was still a lot to be done. It did not take long for the Cainites to once again secure the courtyard of the Royal Palace, and thus they were preparing themselves for the assault on the palace interior.
Yet it was during this preparation that one of the Cainite soldiers finally got a good look of Nia, and cried out to Enosh.
“Captain,” the soldier said. “There she is, that’s His Majesty’s bride.”
“Pardon?” responded Enosh, though he said this only to stall, as he knew full well what the soldier was telling him.
The soldier saluted. “The description matches perfectly. That’s the Sethite woman we’re looking for.”
“Indeed,” Enosh said. “And I want you to keep this to yourself. Understood?”
“But sir…”
At this point, Enosh stepped forward and stared down his subordinate. “Are you questioning me, soldier?”
The Cainite shook his head. “No, sir.”
And with that, the soldier slinked off without a word, utterly befuddled and fearful at the same time.
Rick, having witnessed the whole thing with the rest of the party, took a sigh of relief. “That was a close one.”
“Yeah,” Nia said. “Guess I should’ve kept my helmet on, huh?”
Enosh stepped forward. “Do not worry about my men. If there is one thing the Cainites understand, it’s fear. That one understood my message.”
Abel put a hand on his chin. “But wouldn’t he report you to Emperor Cain?”
“I doubt it,” Enosh said. “A common soldier like him would not have the courage to even utter a word to His Majesty. You have saved my life twice, Abel Ramsey. I am not a man of ingratitude.
“Now let us go, Sethites. We are wasting daylight.”
As the party saw Enosh running off ahead to deliver his orders to the Cainite army, Nia looked to Abel, her eyes betraying confusion.
“Captain,” she said. “I can tell I’ve been missing out. Care to enlighten me?”
Abel nodded. “I’d be happy to. But then I want you to tell me about this place. Something tells me you might know a thing or two.”
Nia grinned. “Yeah, maybe a thing or two.”
***
Queen Claudia—or rather, Lady Actae—looked on with Horus on the state of the war through the three-dimensional projection. All the reddish dots—indications for enemies—did show that the Royal Palace was surrounded. And the Cainites were now ready for a direct assault. The hawkwoman felt her heart beating rapidly, it had been doing so for quite some time. Yet as she looked to Horus, he looked focus, rather collected, a reminder of the man she loved—the man she still loved. A part of her wanted to confess the truth she had been holding for some time, but now was not the time. But would the time ever come, so Claudia wondered.
“You seem calm, my lord,” Actae said. “Even as the enemy had entered our gates. Why is that?”
“It’s simple, Actae,” Horus said, his arms crossed. “The truth of the matter is that the Dragon Tribe does not have the men to hold all of Ra. Emperor Cain had thus far been content with extracting tribute from us, and he does so because occupying the Floating City would have been a drain on his army.
“Even their tactics, their attacks on us, they betray an army that does not have the manpower for prolonged occupation.”
Actae responded, “Clearly the Dragon Tribe is not aiming to occupy Ra, then. What’s their goal?”
Horus pointed to the back, showing Thalya—the Kruptosian princess remained at rest, sitting on the armrest of the hawk throne. Therein lied the answer.
Actae nodded, having understood the answer. Then, the hawkwoman looked down on the floor, deep in contemplation. A thought appeared to her, perhaps a terrible thing to say, yet the situation remained dire as it was. So she spoke,
“My lord, I must speak.”
Horus looked with puzzlement. “Of course, Actae. What is it?”
“I…” She paused, but steeled herself. “… I think we should give up Princess Thalya.”
It was at this point, that the face of Horus turned into a frown.
“What!?” the hawk king said, his tone indignant. “Why would you say such a thing, Actae?”
“I was simply assessing our situation. You have said it yourself, my lord. Cain’s goal isn’t to occupy Ra, it’s to reclaim Thalya. Maybe if we give her up, Cain will leave.”
“Is it really that simple?”
“I don’t know. But this whole invasion only happened after your attack on Cain’s camp at Dour Plains. By bringing Princess Thalya here, you have brought this attack on Ra.”
The face of Horus darkened, filled with cold fury. “You forget yourself, Actae.”
The hawkwoman gulped, having realized her mistake; she knelt before the hawk king, almost worshipping. “I apologize, my lord. It is not my intention to place blame at your feet.”
Horus felt his own anger dying down, and once more he looked at Actae— something about her seemed awfully familiar, especially at the back of her head. His thoughts began to wonder…
… just as the red hand of Princess Thalya touched his shoulder.
“Darling,” the Kruptosian Princess said. “I’m bored.”
“Not now, Thalya,” responded Horus. “I’m in the middle of something.”
Thalya pouted. “But you’ve said it yourself, the enemy will not be able to occupy Ra anyways. Your position is all but secure.”
As she said this, Thalya began caressing the chest of Horus.
For the hawk king, his heart began to beat, and his body began to react in ways he did not intend. Passion began to overwhelm as reason began to dim.
“Y-you’re right, my love,” Horus said. “I’ve been working too hard.”
Thalya grinned. “Indeed you have. It’s time for you to relax.”
“Yes, it’s time for me to relax.”
With that, Thalya took Horus by the hand as she was guiding him to the throne. From her back, the knife she had been keeping was kept tied to the garment strap at her back, concealed by the dim darkness of the room.
Thalya’s plan was simple: Once Horus was seated on the throne, she would give the hawk king another goblet, and would pour more wine. More drunkenness for Horus. Then, when Horus was asleep with wine, the knife would come out straight at the hawk king’s neck. The hawk king would lay dead, and Ra would accept occupation by the Dragon Tribe.
It was the perfect plan, except that the Kruptosian Princess had failed to account for the hawkwoman.
Actae rushed in, placing herself between Horus and Thalya.
“No, my lord,” the hawkwoman cried. “This is not the time.”
“Out of the way,” Thalya said. She turned to Horus. “Darling, look at your rude servant here.”
Horus looked to Actae, his expression unamused. “I begin to tire of your interference, Actae. Remember your place as a servant.”
“But I’m not a servant,” Actae cried. “I’m your wife!”
The revelation for Horus was as if his wings had been clipped, and he had fallen to the ground. Despite the lack of evidence, the hawk king had no need of them. King Horus of Ra had always known the truth deep down, but it was only now that he was confronted by it.
“Claudia…” he said, his expression blank; the hawk king was in a trance.
Thalya frowned, knowing that he was losing the king. The Kruptosian Princess took the knife from her back and lunged at Claudia; her intention was only to drive the hawkwoman away. But emotions had a way of escalating things. The two woman grappled back and forth, their strength even, as they fought over the knife. Then the two fell awkwardly on the floor, Thalya atop, Claudia on the floor, and a knife sticking out of her chest.
And for Horus, the sight of his beloved wife, stabbed in the chest, blood pouring out… it was as if he had condemned her to death yet again.
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Shaking out to be a good ending.