Coup De Grâce

Lotara stirred in her sleep, but returned to her dreams when her mother gently rocked the cradle.

Polgara was of a sullen mood that afternoon. For the first reason, Angronius seemed to have taken a liking for the meetings with his war council rather than spend time with her. A foolish assumption on her part, but emotions had a tendency to overrule logic. The urgency of his preparations for war didn't quite register with her as it should have. And Polgara, as of late, was feeling rather lonely. For the second reason, the most recent discussion she had with Sonjita frayed the last of her nerves and burned whatever bridge they had between them as friends.

The Red Maiden revealed her desire for her Angronius. She made no effort to sugarcoat it either. What's more, she asked Polgara if she was willing to share.

'The nerve of the woman, that redheaded barbarian bitch!' Polgara thought. She wasn't familiar with the strange customs of the Freelands, but no self-respecting woman would even think of sharing the love of her life- especially with one such as Sonjita. Astonishment and growing disgust overwhelmed her, Polgara gave no reply save for a hellish glare and a bristling snarl. Even then, the message was clear.

Angronius was hers, no one else's.

And yet, as her temper cooled, Polgara remembered that Sonjita wasn't the only Stygian woman who approached her with this confession. There were others, many others since they left the citadel at the foot of Mt. Khyaltuwa. All of them were beautiful, exotic even. Not the kind of women from the gilded cities of Nuceria or the Freelander vassals, with painted eyes and soft unblemished skin. These women were warrior-women, hardened by the elements and fashioned out of solid steel. Beauty hand-in-hand with raw strength and tenacity, things that she felt she was in short supply, it was enough for her to question her worth as the wife of the gladiator king.

The laws and customs concerning marriage in the Freelands differed greatly from those in Nuceria.

In the oft-harsh conditions of living in the Freelands, men had a tendency to live relatively short lives. To ensure that their people would never be found wanting for numbers, Stygian women often shared husbands, especially in times of war. That way, their bloodline never lacked for heirs.

"Perhaps... I am being a little selfish." Polgara murmured softly after reflecting on what happened that day.

Lotara was awake now, and hungry. She talked in the usual baby-gibber until her mother finally picked her up and brought the toddler to her breast. Polgara leaned back into her chair as she fed from her milk, then turned her eyes to the sky.

Angronius wasn't her slave. Not anymore. If having another wife, if having children as many as the sands of the desert would make him happy, the sorceress would readily surrender her dignity. A god would not be bound to a mere mortal like her, and should not be treated as such. She should only feel grateful she had had him all to herself for as long as she did.

There was a noise rolling across the clouds like distant thunder, a familiar noise that wrested Polgara from her thoughts. The noise of Nucerian strike-fighter engines roaring, hurtling them through the heavens with the speed of falling stars. They swooped down suddenly and attacked the walls of Vendhayana. Angronius' pre-planned defenses reacted quickly, and the skies were suddenly filled with bright tracers and las-fire.

The deafening cacophony of explosions, weapons discharge and screams of panic-stricken city-folk should've frightened the child in her arms. And yet, Lotara didn't seem to mind the noise of battle. If anything, it amused the toddler and she uttered a mirthful giggle at the bright lights filling up the sky.

Quickly, Polgara retreated indoors. She stayed close to the walls and away from the pathways as the burly former gladiators ran to and fro. Angronius found her among the servants of the house and bid her to take shelter. To her dismay, the one he chose to undertake the task personally was someone she didn't wish to see so soon again.

"Sonjita, Red Maiden, I have a favor to ask of you." The gladiator king said.

Sonjita crossed her arms and arched a brow. She was a lioness pacing the bars of her cage, eager to be loosed upon her enemies. "Ask, but do not keep me from the battle."

"See my beloved and all those who cannot fight to safety in the city bunkers, then rejoin me and the others at the first gate."

"I will see to it." She replied, showing a bit of reluctance for playing the mother-hen to the sorceress and her child. It was only the unspoken promise of her taking part of the bloodshed later that kept her from refusing altogether. "Come now, ladies. We don't have all day."

Angronius took a moment to embrace his wife and daughter, then emerged from the governor's house to lead his people into battle. The Nucerian 5th Legion adapted its tactics considerably since the last time he faced them, judging from their preference for attacking from a safe distance rather than risk fighting the horde face to face. The city was being attacked from all sides by strike-fighter bombing runs or artillery fire, but not a single Nucerian legionnaire was dispatched to assail the walls.

For once, Angronius was contending with a strategic mind.

Doubt began to creep into the hearts of the freedmen, but immediately evaporated when all eyes turned to the gladiator king ascending to one of the ramparts of the city walls. He rallied the fighting men and women of Vendhayana with a rousing speech, "Our steel is our strength, that is what the Nucerians fear! For too long have they waged war from a distance, growing comfortable and soft with their hubris! Come, we shall remind them why we are called the Eaters of Cities!"

At the mustering grounds close to the walls lay dozens of heavy transporters, recovered from both the Nucerian garrisons and Vendhayanan marketplace, that the freedmen jury-rigged with layers upon layers of extra protection. Four-inch steel slabs, mounted stubbers and even rocket-launchers. But these transporters would serve a better purpose other than shielding the freedmen warriors from the fiery wrath of the Nucerians. They would be but the means to ferry them over, to close the distance and bring the 5th Legion within the reach of their steel.

And if that should prove lacking, the horde had the Warmother Minerva at its side. Though scarred from the Nucerian-Stygian wars, she hadn't forgotten the old sorceries of her people. Under Angronius' leadership, she relished in the chance to bring the sky down once more upon her enemies.

One by one, the transporters ascended into the air and over the wall. Like a wave upon the tide, they sped across the valley towards the Nucerians entrenched outside Vendhayana. Angronius' bold plan was the result of a personal gamble, one that he made with Lucretia and Rissio, who for some reason was absent from what would soon be one of the greatest battles the Freelands had ever seen since the Nucerians first invaded. The gamble was that the Nucerians would spare no reserve, hold back no superweapon, to destroy the legend of Angronius.

His very existence was an affront to the might of the Empire, a rallying cry to all those in slavery. Killing him would ensure that Nuceria would remain strong for another hundred years.

Angronius himself was aware of this fact, and used the Nucerian's desperation against them. He was confident in the strength of the horde, both his and the freedmen. Giving their enemies cause to concentrate their forces on a single battlefield, it ensured a quick and decisive blow to the 5th Legion. And once he was finished with them, Angronius will lead the Eaters of Cities to the shores of Nuceria itself.

Great balls of fire rained down from the heavens as Minerva made her hatred manifest, calling upon the Warp to bathe the Nucerian vanguard in flames. She opened up a path for the freedmen transporters, softening up their enemies and sending them reeling back in disarray. Seizing the moment, and when their transporters soaked up as much ordnance and las-fire as they could till they could no more, the former gladiators leapt from their vessels and attacked the reeling legionnaires.

It was a glorious mess that Angronius and his followers made of the well-organized 5th Legion. The frightening raw power of cybernetically and bio-modified warriors wading waist-deep in the literal meat-grinding pit that the battlefield had become was more than enough reason for any sane man to turn tail and run. But, in light of recent events, the 5th Legion did not retreat.

Not this time.

If anything, the prospect of them losing the momentum made them fight even harder.

Artillery batteries fired upon whole clusters, blowing up both freedmen and legionnaire indiscriminately, or sometimes at zero angle. Anything and everything they could do to stop the wave of death pushing through the ranks, the Nucerians in all desperation threw it all in. Strike-fighters and heavy bombers, having finished their runs on the city, turned their wrath upon the freedmen cutting a bloody swath through the vanguard before they could reach the guns.

As missiles and bombs shattered the fields into a sea of craters filled with gore and smoking refuse, Angronius lifted his gaze to the sky and hurled a fallen legionnaire standard-bearer's standard like a javelin and brought one of the bombers down to earth.

Meanwhile, in the smoking ruins of the heart of Vendhayana, Sonjita made haste for the small network of catacombs leading into the city bomb-shelters. She could hear the noise of battle taking place outside the walls, which spurred her to finish her intended task quickly so she could have her share of the action.

When she and the other refugees finally reached the shelters, they were met with disaster.

The constant bombing of the city weakened the integrity of the shelter support-pillars, so much so that as soon as the Red Maiden turned to leave, the walls of the ancient catacombs collapsed in on themselves and blocked the passageways. Sonjita found herself trapped among the refugees, denied of the glories of the battle outside Vendhayana.

"Damn it all!" She bellowed angrily, kicking the rubble in her path once the dust settled. Polgara covered Lotara's ears as a stream of curses, intelligible and unintelligible, flowed from her mouth. The stream flowed and flowed, until Sonjita's anger died down and it was naught but a trickle.

Frustrated, but undefeated, the Red Maiden started to dig through the rubble. She worked for a few minutes, then stopped to stare in disbelief at the apparent inaction displayed by the refugees. "Well? Are you all going to just stand there idly while we slowly suffocate to death?"

Antonius, the Nucerian, stepped out of the crowd to settle his family in on a tiny space in the far corner of the shelter. He laid out a small blanket for his daughters and bade them to make themselves comfortable. "We won't suffocate, not down here."

Sonjita snapped, "And you know this, how?"

"Vendhayana is my home." He replied nonchalantly, unafraid of the wrathful Stygian. "And knowing what awaits us should we venture into the shelters is something worth knowing on your first few days of moving in. The shelter is adequately insulated, and the filters guarantee safety from suffocation and airborne toxins. In addition, there are preserved capsules here containing food and water to last us for weeks."

"I wouldn't worry about the rubble, either." Polgara agreed, much to Sonjita's chagrin. "If anything, it's the only thing keeping the Nucerian invaders out should they reach the city. When Angronius is victorious, his strength alone is enough to move mountains. It will suffice."

No matter her protests or attempts to rouse the people into action, everyone ignored Sonjita and turned their attentions inward. Husband consoled their wives, mothers comforted their children, and the children started to sing songs to uplift everyone's spirit.

It was all so painfully tedious, and Sonjita hated it. Finally defeated, she sat down with her back against the wall and rested her arms on her knees. The hours passed, and the wait gnawed at her. Feeling a bit amused for her apparent discomfort, but at the same time pitying her, Polgara approached the woman and sat down next to her.

"What?" Sonjita said crossly as she rolled her head sideways to face her.

Polgara shrugged slowly, "Why so eager to fight?"

"Why ever not?"

"There's so much more to life than just fighting, you know."

Sonjita frowned, "Perhaps for some people. But I think you've made it rather clear that there is and should be no other path left for me."

Polgara immediately caught on to her meaning, although for the most part remained unapologetic about her response. Still, she endeavored to keep it civil between them, from one woman to another, both aspiring to hold on to the heart of a god. "Sonja, if a woman walked up to you and asked you to share your husband with her, how would you feel?"

"I don't know, I've never had one."

"Just answer the question."

Sonjita remained silent, but a thoughtful look crossed her eyes.

"My thoughts exactly. But since we've landed upon the subject, I do believe now's a perfect time as any to bring this up. You wish to join this life, my life and his, to hold Angronius as I hold him? To bear his children and hold mine as you would your own? To weather every struggle without complaint, to love him and be true to your vows?"

"I do... Yes, I do."

Polgara pursed her lips and nodded. "Very well then..."

"So, you will not stand in my way?" Sonjita asked.

A brief flash of anger crossed Polgara's gaze, but she immediately stifled the spark before it caught flame. "I am giving you the chance to approach a god and seek his approval. Never forget, this is no mere man you are pining for. And as such, I have realized he is beholden unto no singular woman. But if he refuses you, you will never broach this subject with me ever again. Do you understand?"

It was the Red Maiden's turn to nod, "I understand."

"ANGRONIUS!"

The gladiator king overheard the challenging voice amidst the din of explosions and dying men. He turned around to see a legionary officer clad in shining bronze armor, holding a glowing green sword shimmering with plasmic energies in his hand. When he saw that his challenge caught the attention of the right man, the officer's lips cracked a satisfied smile, as though he finally found what- or rather, who he was looking for.

"Who calls?" Angronius replied.

A squad of silver-clad bodyguards kept the lesser freedmen from interfering with what seemed to be a one-on-one battle between Angronius and the general of the 5th Legion. The general himself, forsook his fur coat and removed his helmet for the gladiator king to see his face.

"My name is Sargon Coriolanus, Legatus Legionis of the Nucerian 5th Legion!" He declared, "And I challenge you to a duel to the death!"

Angronius caught a glimpse of something bloody and mishapen, something that looked like the head of some poor fool the general slew in the most recent past, hanging by his belt. But with the chaos of the battle happening around them, the gladiator king's attention fell elsewhere. He noticed that in some parts of the battlefield, his warriors were struggling with the more heavily armed legionnaires hunkered down in their trenches. "Normally, I would relish in such a challenge. But I'm afraid I find this duel a pointless distraction, especially considering the conditions around here."

Coriolanus frowned and reached for the head hanging from his belt. He gave no reply save for a revelation of who that head once belonged to.

Angronius' face grew pale as he stared in abject horror at the lifeless eyes of his brother. Rissio's head, still adorned with a crown of braided locks, had been desecrated with a blasphemous eight-fold mark- one that Angronius had seen only in his dreams. The thing taunted him of a bloody end, one that he'd share at the edge of Coriolanus' blade.

Suddenly, rage filled every vein in his head like burning black oil. Once more, the Nails buzzed with renewed vigor, and Angronius willingly let loose the leash he'd held up until that point.

With a deafening roar, he bent his knee and hurled himself forward. The dirt exploded from beneath his heels as he closed the distance between him and the general. Coriolanus tossed the head upwards to distract the hateful freedman, and moved at an astonishingly inhuman pace. Not quite on the same scale as Angronius, but close enough. Angronius shrugged off the head as it bounced off his chin and brought down his grumbling chain-axes.

Gorefather and Gorechild slammed down against the general's upraised arms, and stopped short of shredding through the bronze armguards. The bristling teeth chewed without much success at the unnatural metals. An impenetrable aura shielded Coriolanus, enhancing his strength and speed to that of one of the bio-modified gladiators. It allowed him to last that long contending with a force of nature that was Angronius.

"Your sorceries will not save you!" Angronius growled, pulling his chain-axes away to drag Coriolanus forward. He dropped Gorefather so he could grab onto the general's throat. With Gorechild, he knocked the plasma sabre from his hands. He brought the general closer and bellowed into his face as he slowly tightened his grip, "Your gods will not save you!"

He raised Gorechild and struck Coriolanus at the knee. The armor held, but the bones did not fare that well. With an agonized cry, Coriolanus fell to the ground before the gladiator king.

Angronius stood close by and lifted his chain-axe to deliver the final blow. "But entreat them, if you will! Despair in their silence!"

"Wait!" Coriolanus begged, though not for his life. "My life is forfeit, that is clear! But I beg you, grant me not a dog's death! Grant me a clean death- a soldier's death!"

"Like the death you granted my brother? No!" Angronius roared, "Your end shall fit the crime! VENGEANCE FOR RISSIO!"

And with that, Angronius struck the general down. His chain-axe cut cleanly through Coriolanus' neck, and the head toppled off from the stump frothing with bright red blood. Not long after he had slain the general, Coriolanus' death heralded the end of the Nucerian 5th Legion. That day, the Eaters of Cities had struck a blow that sent the Empire reeling.

Hearing their leader's deafening cry, the triumphant freedmen let loose a joyful noise that shook the foundations of Vendhayana. But Angronius' cry was not born from victory. His heart was neither joyful nor did he revel in the glory of his kill.

His cry was a cry of lamentation. His heart was heavy, for he'd lost a brother who was dear to him.

In the midst of the celebrating freedmen, Lucretia approached the grieving gladiator king and was the only one who took note of his despair. The god of war, whose voice moved an oppressed nation to rise against a seemingly unstoppable empire and caused whole armies to flee from the battlefield with the mere mention of his name, was on his knees weeping as he cradled the head of his best friend in his hands. She knelt beside Angronius and embraced her brother.

Together, they mourned Rissio's passing.