ã€ŠRogun: Companion One in the Orak&#x27;Thune Seriesã€‹


 Chapter 1

    Zephen watched the albatross bank sharply right, her enormous wingspan now visible to him, her white feathers glowing against the blue water.

    His feet dangled over the seawall, barefoot because he remembered to take his shoes off this time. Most children his age didn¡¯t have shoes and it seemed quite practical, but Mogu insisted. A prince should shod his feet to protect them. Soft, clean skin was the example, his valet had told him. His people expected his perfection.

    He looked at his toes and wriggled them. It felt good to be barefoot. His smooth olive-toned skin was dark against the pristine white of his fine silk pants, rolled up to keep from the water. His eyes lost focus over the constant movement of the waves just barely touching his soles, tips flashing in the sunlight like jewels. Warm and salty, he could smell it always in the breeze.

    ¡°Zephen!¡±

    The young prince turned sharply to see his valet approaching in a hurried march, impatience on his face. Mogu was always impatient, it seemed to Zephen; it exhausted him sometimes.

    He waited until the man was close and stopped, his robes rustling as he gathered them to crouch.

    ¡°Your brother, where is he?¡± he demanded but quieter between them. It would not do for a servant to be seen or heard badgering a royal. Even in the private section of the gardens and sea palisade, there were plenty of workers and courtiers around to keep up appearances.

    Zephen shrugged as he faced his caretaker. ¡°I do not know, Mogu. Coltair left me here this morning. I have not seen him since.¡±

    Mogu frowned. He looked like he wanted to rail at the boy but clamped his mouth shut and waved his hand at him. ¡°Dress and return to your apartments. Your mother wants to see you.¡±

    Intrigued but wary, Zephen nodded. He pulled on his exquisite, embroidered silk slippers and ran toward the covered galleries on the other side of the garden.

    Once inside, the cool air bathed Zephen¡¯s skin. A marvel of the marble walls, the sun¡¯s radiating heat didn¡¯t penetrate the inside and wide-opened galleries allowed copious amounts of fresh air to circulate the interior of the building. It was always cool in the shade of the white palace.

    The complex seemed to stretch away from Zephen once he made it inside. A massive central atrium hosted twin staircases that fed the apartments in one direction and the working central government in the other. Between and ahead stood the enormous hall entrance and wide-open main gate so that Zephen could see the harbour and azure blue ocean a few miles below. The five-story palace sat at the highest point of the island, carved from a single marble vein, itself as near one carving. It could be seen for miles in any direction, especially if the massive braziers at the top of the throne temple were lit. It was rare, only on Ancestors¡¯ Day had he ever seen them, but it was always magical: the warm glow of the enormous bonfires bathing the white walls of the palace against the velvet, purple blue of the night sky, making them glow a golden, inviting yellow.

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    ¡°Quickly now, Your Majesty.¡± Mogu ushered Zephen toward the apartment stairs.

    Entering his mother¡¯s apartments, Zephen slowed. Never alone, his mother had several maids and attendants, in addition to a small army of servants. It was all rather ridiculous to him; she spent her days dressing and undressing, it seemed.

    Lovely and decorous, Ewa, Empress of Rogun, sat on a throne divan, lavishly dressed in ocean-blue silks that trailed over the edge of the furniture. Her hair was tied elaborately in braids, studded with pure gold balls and barrettes of dazzling designs. On her brow hung an astonishing blue sapphire, tied by gold thread to her crown that rose from her thickly woven hair, nestled like a wreath.

    A maid waved an enormous, feathered fan over top of her, even though the white linen drapes behind billowed constantly in the refreshing breeze coming off the sea through her balcony windows.

    Zephen eyed the room. Of all her entourage, most were kind, but there was one or two that he wished his mother would discard.

    ¡°Zephen,¡± Ewa called out to him.

    He came to stand before her, bowed at the waist and waited.

    His mother¡¯s heavily painted eyes tracked him from head to foot. ¡°You are filthy,¡± she said dismissively.

    Still bent with his eyes cast down, he shut them and his lips tightened to stem any reply. He was not filthy, but he had been wearing the same white pants and smock since breakfast.

    She sighed loudly. ¡°And your brother? Where is he?¡± she went on.

    ¡°I have not seen him, Precious Mother.¡± A very long silent moment passed between them.

    ¡°Look at me,¡± she said finally.

    Zephen straightened but braced himself for his mother¡¯s displeasure.

    ¡°He is your older brother. You should be watching him, Zephen. He is your protector and your sovereign, even now. To ¡®lose¡¯ your brother is an unacceptable act of indiscipline. An act of carelessness and indifference,¡± she scolded him.

    Zephen nodded and cast his eyes to the lush rug on the floor.

    ¡°Do you want your brother not to care about you when he becomes emperor? To cast you aside and forget about you?¡±

    ¡°No, Loving Mother,¡± Zephen replied sullenly.

    ¡°Then try again,¡± she barked. ¡°Where is your brother?¡±

    Zephen fidgeted. The only place he knew Coltair went sometimes was the royal crypt, deep under the palace itself. His brother had sworn him to secrecy as it was forbidden to go there without the express permission of their father, Emperor Cirrus.

    Thinking quickly, he lowered his head in respect. ¡°I believe he researches our ancestry, Beautiful Mother,¡± he told her.

    Ewa, not expecting his answer, blinked at him.

    ¡°He wishes not to be disturbed, so he sends me away. He is wise and wishes to know all he can so he can one day be as strong as Fearless Father,¡± he added and bowed deeply again.

    ¡°Where?¡± Ewa asked him sharply.

    Zephen wanted to cry. ¡°He sends me away so I cannot know, Exquisite Mother.¡±

    Ewa threw her hands up in frustration and barked at a servant to hand her a morsel of pineapple. Zephen remained bent again but knew that the size of the piece of fruit she ate was cut perfectly to fit her mouth every time. His esteemed mother never opened her lips wider than a nibble to eat her food.

    ¡°Find him, then,¡± she said after she¡¯d slowly chewed her succulent fruit. ¡°It is your duty to aid him. I don¡¯t care what he says. You will advise him one day; you should know our beginnings. Ask him to give you your own studies. You¡¯re nearly a man now, Zephen. You should not be wasting your time daydreaming in the gardens.¡±

    ¡°Yes, Gracious Mother,¡± he replied and, with lifting his face to her again, backed away from her until he was no longer on her rug. When his feet met the cool marble floor, polished to near glass, he turned quickly and walked out of the suite without another glance.

 Chapter 2

    Zephen waited at the entrance to the basement for two hours before his brother emerged. It seemed a bit extreme, especially after the first hour. No one knew to look for Coltair here, so it was unlikely he too would be found. It was a safe place to hide until he emerged in the company of his brother, as his mother had requested.

    ¡°Coltair!¡± he exclaimed and hopped off the high wall to the stairwell entrance.

    Clearly startled, his brother¡¯s eyes narrowed when he recognized his younger sibling. Undeterred, Zephen fell into step beside him.

    ¡°Why are you here?¡± Coltair asked, not even looking at him.

    Zephen shrugged. ¡°Mother insisted I stay with you,¡± he replied truthfully.

    Coltair exhaled loudly in exasperation. ¡°I am not your governess. Away with you.¡±

    Zephen, used to Coltair¡¯s coldness, frowned but kept pace with him. ¡°She didn¡¯t want you to care and occupy me, brother,¡± he replied, ¡°but they expect me to provide assistance and support you in your endeavours. You know this. We are the next generation. Together, you and I. Remember the emperor¡¯s words?¡±

    Coltair turned to look at him once, though he did not slow his determined pace. He frowned and looked back ahead.

    When he had turned thirteen, a man¡¯s age to his father, the emperor had called the two boys to his presence. In a somewhat formal ceremony, he¡¯d delivered a speech that enshrined both of his sons¡¯ futures. Coltair would inherit the throne as the eldest blood heir. Zephen, the next male in line, would support him as his advisor. Bound forever by their laws, their father had gone on at some length over what he envisioned of his sons'' responsibilities, mostly for the court who stood witness and who were expected to continue in their loyalty to his sons, and, therefore, the empire.

    ¡°His Imperial Highness expects you to study,¡± Coltair said and turned sharply around a corner, back toward their apartments. Zephen followed but worked to keep pace. ¡°I can¡¯t do that for you. Earn your place, Zephen. Be busy when our bored mother looks for you. You know her spies find you lounging in the parks and lagoons all day. It irritates her to find you idle. You invite her ire on yourself, brother.¡±

    Zephen frowned. He was schooled at least four hours a day by tutors over a wide variety of subjects. He resented the comment that he was indolent.

    Compared to Coltair, however, Zephen realized he had little in common. Whatever was in the basement that fascinated his brother, he dedicated himself to every waking hour.

    ¡°You will come out for your wedding at least?¡± Zephen ribbed him.

    Instead of a smile, Coltair bent his shoulders and walked faster.

    ¡°Coltair?¡± Zephen called after him. He stopped running after him when his taller and stronger brother started to jog, slowing until finally stopping altogether to stand alone in the empty, enormous hall.

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    ---

    Coltair clenched his jaw and worked not to snarl at his brother. It wasn¡¯t his fault, but winds, he was an annoying distraction.

    His work was important. Right now, the ancestors had a plan and he would need to learn this plan in every detail before he would become emperor; it was that simple.

    His father, Emperor Cirrus, worked diligently on the plans that kept Rogun relevant, wealthy and safe. Alliances across the vast oceans around the world took time and a great deal of money, but it was the role of the ruling family that kept Rogun¡¯s prosperity and sovereignty unchallenged. Since near decimation a few thousand years ago, it had been their singular focus.

    It was no small irritation that their closest neighbour, the Orak¡¯Thune, seemed blessed with all the favours of the winds that Rogun worked so hard to obtain and then maintain. Self-sufficient, Rogun was limited in their growth and diversity. They grew some food, were enormously proficient at fishing but not much by way of land crop staples such as grain. They had wealth, by way of industrialization of core commodities. They had world-famous goldsmiths and textile mills but didn¡¯t mine the gold or glean the silk themselves. Imports provided the rare raw materials; Rogun grew talented artisans.

    Orak¡¯Thune, however, had warred itself into submission under one republic and now bowed to the wandering whim of a dual and weak leadership in a muscle-bound king and addle-brained regent. It had everything to sustain an enormous population across a vast territory: plains for agriculture and forest for lumber, shores for fishing and trade, but what they exported most of all was their muscle.

    And what the world paid to get that muscle, provided everything else so the Orak¡¯Thune didn¡¯t have to work for it.

    Bullies of the world, that¡¯s what they were.

    Coltair pushed his way through his private suite door and slammed it shut behind him. His servant had been setting out his dinner and jumped, dropping his towel, but collected it fast and scurried to the corner to hide from him.

    ¡°Leave me,¡± he grumbled and the servant bowed and ran from the room.

    Treaties had begun to cross the globe thousands of years ago. Once lines of contact, now were valuable shipping lanes. In most cases, Orak¡¯Thune seemed to have gotten there first. Bigger ships, bigger navy and all the might to enforce whatever deal they brokered, Rogun seemed to have nothing as valuable to offer. It was difficult to argue when all around the world the Orak¡¯Thune were successfully brokering peace deals that saw hostilities of warring tribes cease, in return for export contracts of precious trade to bring wealth to the new king''s coffers. Not to mention, sitting across the table from a silk-robed ambassador, backed by multiple, giant men in steel armour, seemed to tip the flavour every time.

    Coltair ran a hand fast through his hair, gripping the ends hard enough to hurt.

    The knights. He cursed in his mind. Even their king was one. Called the Order of Elite, they were founded as a specialized fraction of the army. Extra training, cavalry with armour-plated horses, it was outright ridiculous, but no one had ever won a war against them and they were an exclusive concept to the Orak¡¯Thune. As if to train the world to share their prowess and equalize their influence could be so bad. Of course, they would keep that skill to themselves.

    Winds, how he hated them. The Orak¡¯Thune considered they were fair to the Rogun, trading and such, but when asked to give more to the trade routes, so Rogun could share the wealth of ferrying and cargo across the globe, the shipping barons that ran under enormous contracts invented by the Orak¡¯Thune were less than forthcoming. The king wouldn¡¯t even meet with the emperor to discuss the bad behaviour of his syndicate of the seas who operated in his name.

    To hell with them. Coltair had a plan. His father wouldn¡¯t even know it; it would be his own, for his own time as emperor and if played right, his would be the last generation to grace the throne. He wouldn¡¯t have to succumb to his father¡¯s weakness. He didn¡¯t have thanatophobia; there was no finality to any death that Coltair would fear. The secrets he gleaned from the darkness were his alone for the taking.

 Chapter 3

    Coltair stood at the altar facing the long aisle that led to the back of the room. His mother sat to his right, dressed as a ridiculous testament to the opulence and wasted wealth of his family¡¯s status. His father sat beside her, just as lavishly dressed; he even wore the dark eyeliner that was fashionable a hundred years ago. Coltair thought it made him look like a child¡¯s entertainer.

    Dressed extravagantly in his own wedding attire, the eldest prince said nothing and concentrated on the task at hand. Hundreds of his father¡¯s court members filled the throne room, which was blissfully open to allow the sea breeze and the cooler evening air. The musicians played softly in the corner, plucking at light stringed instruments in their brightly coloured and gold-trimmed finery.

    Flower petals dotted the aisle runner, whitish pink against the navy blue. Coltair¡¯s eyes lost focus as he awaited his fate, his thoughts wandering to words of the ancestors encouraging him to bide his time and his temper¡ªto accomplish this, his time was at hand.

    The crowd gasped and buzzed, so he lifted his eyes.

    At the far end, a swath of material in the shape of a woman now stood, flanked by an army of her family members, beaming and fussing with their own extravagant clothes.

    When the music changed from lively to soft, the woman started to walk.

    It took forever. Coltair was near shaking in his effort to stay still. He gave no indication he was not a willing participant in this event and squared his shoulders; it would not do to slouch or frown.

    Grow thy bloodline, whispered the ancestors when he¡¯d told them his age had come that he would be wed to a woman. A true leader spreads his seed across the world. Bring our breadth to the distant corners and find your place among us¡ªas our king. It begins this night.

    In the tradition of the emperor, the heirs were married young and before they ascended. It was said this was one way to ensure the right emperor assumed the throne. Coltair was expected to produce heirs well in advance of his taking the mantle. His father, barely a man himself when he¡¯d sired Coltair¡¯s sisters, had assumed the throne with no less than five children by the time his era began.

    It was unclear what ended an emperor¡¯s era in the end. Death seemed to claim them at the time the heir showed their readiness. Poison was ruled out; many emperors had hidden in their later years to avoid betrayal. Tasters were employed and even investigators¡ªpaid in exorbitant amounts to find the cause¡ªruled it out. Coltair had a theory that it was the ancestors that made the choice. Ever diligent in their plan for world superiority, they simply would not suffer an old fool who no longer felt the persistence to push for Rogun dominance.

    Coltair took the hands of his bride and the veil was removed from her face. She was lovely. At least it would not be hard to live with someone he was expected to see and be seen with when she was at least pleasing to look at.

    The girl looked nervous. Fifteen like him, she was barely old enough to know who he was. He said the words the advisor spoke and she repeated them. When she smiled at him, he frowned, causing his bride to look startled. Correcting his expression to a tolerant smile, he watched her startled eyes flutter down in a demure, nervous recovery. He turned them to face the crowd, which cheered and clapped, and by one hand, he led her from the room.

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    It was an excruciating, long evening. He knew this was just the beginning of his plan, but Coltair never wanted to marry. He¡¯d have been happier to continue the ancestors¡¯ work on his own, leaving the marital responsibility to Zephen, who he knew was infatuated with several girls already; let his brother suffer the drama and the messiness of women¡¯s affairs.

    Sighing with impatience to get on with it, he stood now in a light, oversized silk shirt of white and matching pants. To the left was the enormous bed, drapes pulled back and blankets removed. No less than eight oversized pillows lined the back.

    He watched his bride approach. She was so nervous her body was shaking. Draped in a single sheet of silk, her hair, now brushed soft, was pulled from her face in braided rope bands. She stopped in front of him.

    ¡°My name is Candice,¡± she murmured. Coltair, his eyes stuck somewhere on her bosom, let his mind wander to the dinner he¡¯d endured where she¡¯d sat silently beside him. He¡¯d never asked her name.

    ¡°Coltair,¡± he said to her. She blushed and seemed to warm and relax a little. ¡°You may call me Highness,¡± he reminded her.

    The warmth to her face vanished.

    He held their hands high for her, the shaking more evident in her upheld limb. He walked her deliberately to the bed and waited for her to climb up. She did so and tried to slide to the middle as elegantly as she could. Coltair remained standing at the edge.

    He wasn¡¯t entitled to feel it, but he was frustrated with the indignity of the scene, though the ancestors warned him to play along with everything until he himself wore the mantle. To raise suspicion that the emperor¡¯s son had unusual plans for the future of the crown now could spell disaster.

    ¡°Take it off,¡± he ordered Candice.

    Visibly started, she clasped the material in front of her.

    When she looked around the room, his expression turned less friendly, but there was no one going to help her. Timidly, she began to comply.

    Finally, Coltair thought. Seeing the girl¡¯s breasts, her fine skin and colour unblemished, stirred his body to at least show an interest. Candice glinted in the bright light, decorated in brightly coloured jewels and beads the women favoured as body art, using sugar syrup to affix them to her torso. He could see she was decorated in the motif of a mermaid; the turquoise, blue and white jewels went down to her navel and heavily all over her belly.

    Coltair sighed in resignation and rose to climb onto the bed on his knees. He knelt over her and lowered his pants. Candice whimpered

    Explained to him in detail, he followed the acceptable way to conquer his bride to satisfy the court. Coltair simply locked his mind to what the ancestors said. They had wanted this so-called ceremony as part of his pledge of loyalty to them, as much as it was to his father and kingdom. So be it. Without passion, he thrust and thrust deeply, his body rising to the requirement, despite the complete lack of emotion he would have required if he had actually cared for this girl.

    Huffing through his end, he gripped hard the headboard and yelled in his climax.

    Remembering his instructions, he backed off immediately and moved to kneel upright once more. He continued to work to catch his breath and watched the girl, who moments ago had been a virgin beneath him, squirm and turn from him, biting her lower lip to stay quiet. Two maids appeared between them and one pushed Candice¡¯s legs shut.

    ¡°Well done, Majesty,¡± Mogu said, appearing beside him.

    He flinched when a warm, wet cloth went around his member, but he relaxed and let his valet clean and replace his pants. ¡°Once a week until the girl blooms and we should have confirmation.¡±

    Coltair didn¡¯t acknowledge him. He turned and watched the fifteen court members, now mumbling and conversing between them, probably about which alliances with Candice¡¯s father were the most favourable, leave the room after witnessing their consummation. His mother was the last to leave, her head lifting in satisfied pride before turning without a word to him.

    He slid from the bed and allowed Mogu to replace a robe, then without a look back, left the room.

 Chapter 4

    Coltair moved the brazier to the far corner of the vault and lit it. It took a moment for the fuel to catch, but soon it stuttered and flared, spreading finally to burn evenly.

    Dropping the kindling twig in the bowl, he turned to survey the room. A crypt for former emperors, this was the final resting place of every forefather since the beginning. Nearly three thousand years of ancestors.

    It was not a gallery. After two generations, the previous quad of rulers was walled in and a new vault opened. At present, Coltair estimated there was enough room in the current infrastructure for one more century of emperors, not including his father.

    He eyed the slip that stood waiting for Cirrus. Workers would have begun the effort the moment he ascended and, he noted, they¡¯d made progress. The sarcophagus was carved out and the statuary on the sides and surrounding niche had begun in his tribute. The final piece, the lid, would be ornately decorated with his likeness. It would come last to seal him inside after a month of state viewings and official mourning.

    With a smirk, Coltair turned away.

    His father was terrified of dying and of death. He abhorred the crypt and never went below the main level of the palace, even on Ancestors¡¯ Day. A day of celebration for the population, a day of reflection for the royal family. Instead, Coltair always made the trip by himself. That¡¯s when he¡¯d first heard them. Now, he came as often as his public image allowed.

    Son of sons, welcome and avow to us your progress.

    Coltair lifted his head and looked around, but nothing was out of place. The brazier remained low; he¡¯d used a modest amount of fuel to burn small and for only a short time. The ancestors didn¡¯t like warmth and light, but they humoured him.

    ¡°I am to be a father once more,¡± he replied plainly. ¡°I will have a fourth descendant by the fall. It is confirmed.¡±

    The voices remained silent, but he imagined they were pleased. He was barely twenty-one and already threatening to surpass his father¡¯s contributions.

    ¡°Do you require more?¡± he asked tiredly. Normally, the ancestors didn¡¯t answer personal questions, but he was looking to the plans he wanted to begin, not to the endless cycle of domesticity he was relegated to endure.

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    Heed the next step in your plan, o¡¯ king: Look to the west, look to the west. A like-mind; a listener. Take from her the gift; take from her the key to our salvation!

    Coltair whirled but not in any true direction.

    ¡°Gift? What gift?¡± he asked of the empty air. When no further response was offered, he grumbled in frustration.

    ¡°I am nearly twenty-two. I have waited long enough!¡± he growled. ¡°Do I kill my father now or will you?¡±

    The outburst rang in the stone-enclosed room and the silence following felt close.

    If you secure the Listener and the gift, your time is at hand. Only when the gift is confirmed under your influence may you return.

    Coltair stood with his mouth open. They had never given him an ultimatum before.

    ¡°How will I know this Listener? What is this woman?¡± he demanded.

    Coltair¡­. The voices whispered. Son of the winds, father of Darkness¡­

    With a curse and an incredible amount of willpower to not shout, he turned and left quickly, leaving the blasphemous brazier burning where it stood.

    ---

    Coltair always slept badly. Ever since the ancestors had invaded his mind as a child, his nights were often interrupted by their messages and images of nonsense and scripture. On and on, they would preach about the importance of his mission, his role in the coming, so-called, ¡®salvation.¡¯ That was all fine and good, but rarely was the sequence of events clear and in any particular order.

    Since he could remember, he¡¯d repeatedly had the vision of a man standing in green fire, burning on the crest of some great battlefield, bizarrely holding an infant child wailing in his arms. More frequently, he had flash images of his children drowning in the bay, Candice with them, the swirling water swallowing them to the depths. Some nights, he stood in a dense-growth forest, with snow swirling around the trunks and a cloaked figure blazing in intense orange and red fire, bolts of lightning erupting outward in loud zaps. The figure would stand in menacing silence, waiting for him, a heavy cloak pulled over their face.

    This night was new.

    Coltair stood on the high cliff of a sea bluff, somewhere he did not recognize. Below, on the vast stretch of beach, the figure of a woman stood with her back to him, her long hair whipping past her shoulders in the wind, her face away from him. The moon lit the water and whitecaps and erased the woman¡¯s footsteps from the wet sand as she walked. Coltair didn¡¯t know this woman-but knew beyond question she was real.

    Lightning flashed and he startled. When he looked at the woman, she had turned. Purple eyes glowed steadily on him. Thunder crashed.

    Take thy crown, King of the Underworld. Take the Listener and the Gift. Take thy destiny and our world. Bring forth the Darkness and secure thy seat among us!

    Gasping loudly and dripping in sweat, Coltair bolted upright in his bed. The breeze shuffled the drapes at his window, casting shadows on the floor. The moonlight washed the room of colour.

    His time was at hand.

 Chapter 5

    When Coltair awoke the next morning, the palace was in chaos. Zephen was brought to his apartment and unceremoniously dumped in his company. Regardless he was a grown man, they were both ordered to stay there until summoned.

    ¡°What is this about, Zephen?¡± Coltair growled, getting out of his bed and pulling on a loose robe. He moved to the bathroom without waiting for his brother to reply.

    When he returned moments later, Zephen¡¯s expression didn¡¯t indicate he could explain any better. His brother shrugged and shook his head in mute reply.

    ¡°A security breach of some kind?¡± Coltair offered.

    Zephen turned toward the lounge chair by the window and lay down, lifting his arm to pillow his head. He too was still in his bed clothes.

    Coltair huffed, moved to his door and yelled at the guards there that someone bring them some coffee.

    An hour later, his brother sipped his second cup but hadn¡¯t offered any idle chatter. Ordinarily, Zephen easily filled the empty air.

    ¡°So?¡± Coltair asked finally. He stretched far back in a sitting chair, slouched with his knees slack and wide, his arms draped over the arms and near touching the floor. ¡°What¡¯s new?¡±

    Zephen stopped the cup inches from his lips. His eyes bounced up to his brother¡¯s.

    Coltair frowned. ¡°We¡¯re stuck here. Tell me something I don¡¯t know,¡± he invited. ¡°And skip the court gossip,¡± he added.

    Zephen took a quick sip but lowered the cup to the saucer and pursed his lips to take an extra second.

    ¡°I-I-I-I would like to marry Cariana,¡± he said.

    This was more than idle news. Coltair, instead of scowling at him, cocked his head.

    Zephen only shrugged. ¡°Truth.¡±

    ¡°Is there a chance she¡¯s the mother of any of your children?¡± Coltair asked, only a slight air of disapproval in his voice.

    Zephen frowned and scratched behind his ear.

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    ¡°Whatever. Do what you want when Father¡¯s dead. I don¡¯t care,¡± Coltair told him. Zephen¡¯s expression brightened. ¡°Just don¡¯t ask me to legitimize any of the bastards. Pick a wife, hell pick ten, but sire one line. Fair?¡± he added.

    Zephen took a deep breath. ¡°Deal,¡± he agreed but with some reluctance.

    Coltair could only chuckle. Grinning, he leaned to grab his own coffee and sip it. It was tepid and reminded him that he had been kept waiting long enough.

    Setting the cup down with a clatter, he stood. Zephen didn¡¯t follow. Almost at the door, it opened before Coltair reached the handle. His mother, dressed elaborately in sheer layers of black silk and gossamer edged in gold, her robes swirling out from her movement, arrived and stopped in front of him. Her expression was grave but determined and formal. He distrusted it immediately.

    With an odd, dramatic flourish, Ewa drew her hand to her bosom and lifted the other.

    ¡°Prince Coltair, my dearly beloved firstborn,¡± she said loudly and Coltair noticed the crowd in the hallway. Zephen had come up to stand at his shoulder. ¡°The emperor, our loving and precious father and giver, is dead,¡± she said finally and dropped her eyes and head in low, implied sadness.

    Coltair, having crossed his arms at the first sight of his mother, now lowered them in surprise. ¡°Dead?¡± he asked.

    Zephen gasped behind him.

    ¡°Dead, dear son,¡± his mother went on. Coltair recovered himself but his mother, still in her dramatic pose, her eyes shut in false grief, was beginning to irritate him. She¡¯d certainly taken her time to dress that morning before telling him.

    ¡°Thank you,¡± he said firmly. ¡°I await the court''s arrangements,¡± he said and turned away so she was standing alone, save for Zephen, whom she had yet to acknowledge.

    Startled that Coltair hadn¡¯t offered her condolences or any greeting, the empress stood in awkward silence.

    ¡°Condolences, Exquisite Mother,¡± Zephen said to her and bowed low. ¡°Our great father was a giving and generous man. We will miss him.¡±

    Ewa¡¯s eyes flashed in anger. She shot an irritated scowl at Coltair, whirled around and left.

    ¡°I really wish she didn¡¯t hate me so much,¡± Zephen said when the door closed. ¡°I really can¡¯t recall what it is I ever did to her.¡±

    ¡°After me, what use did she have for you?¡± Coltair changed into day clothes, not waiting for his valet. His hands moved fast to fix his buttons and tuck his shirt into his waistband.

    Zephen looked up at him, but there was no malice there. He splayed out his hands and grimaced. ¡°Still not my fault, is it?¡±

    Coltair huffed and shrugged. He grabbed his wide royal sash of gold and blue and began tying it fast.

    ¡°What will you do, brother?¡± Zephen asked him. ¡°What should I do?¡±

    ¡°Dress. Appropriately,¡± Coltair replied and added the second with emphasis. ¡°As of this day, Mother¡¯s authority expires, my brother. Don¡¯t let her treat you like a peasant from now on.¡±

    Zephen rolled his eyes. ¡°I said no more,¡± Coltair reaffirmed. ¡°If she so much as looks at you like that again, correct her firmly. Remind her who you are, my brother, the emperor¡¯s senior advisor,¡± he added and waited.

    Zephen smiled lightly. ¡°Finally, brother,¡± he agreed. ¡°Your time has arrived.¡±

    Coltair actually grinned. ¡°And not a moment too soon.¡± He patted his brother strongly once on the shoulder, then left alone.

 Chapter 6

    Over the next quarter century, Coltair dedicated himself near exclusively to the voices in the crypts. Upon his father¡¯s death, he¡¯d announced his connection, that he was a ¡®Chosen Son¡¯ of the ancestors and that he would lead them in the ways of an eternal dawn. It was his task and his destiny and Rogun would rise superior in the world, an empire stretching the globe and providing every need or desire. This he guaranteed, so long as he was on the throne.

    Zephen, shocked as much as anyone at the claim initially, to hear for the first time what his brother had been doing in the basement all those years when they were young, could no further understand his brother''s madness than hear the voices himself; there was still the possibility that Coltair was simply insane. Zephen had not a friend in the world if he accepted his brother¡¯s dogma. Besides a dangerous place to be politically, it frightened him to death. He had no choice but to turn toward his duties as advisor, dedicating himself to the well-being of their country. All the while, he would cover for Coltair in his long absences, essentially leaving his brother to his bizarre fantasy.

    But the emperor performed his basic duties, for the most part, and had two sons and two daughters already. Coltair, he¡¯d finally realized, had very carefully strategized to meet all the basic requirements of the throne by the time their father¡¯s rule ended. All along, his early adherence to the throne¡¯s traditions was for appeasement of the court. Still, since ascending, Zephen could only watch as almost nothing Coltair embraced he or the court could understand, though someone believed enough to spare them the assassin''s blade.

    Now, after twenty-five years of dedication to these ¡®ancestors,¡¯ from which no one had seen evidence of progress at all, the emperor¡¯s brother and advisor were exhausted by competing with whatever ruled Coltair¡¯s ambitions in the crypts. The first ten years, Zephen had begged and cajoled him in the late hours and, after several days of absences, to rise and seek his bed, food and a bath. To renew himself and to satisfy appearances.

    But still the void between them widened every year. Coltair continued to glean plans and make decisions in the underground vaults, rather than his council chambers among his high council. Pressure mounted on Zephen to at least join his brother there, go to him to keep an eye and understand his practice, but he hated the crypts. They were damp and darker than any nightmare. To make matters worse, a dark faction of fanatics arrived a few years into his reign.

    They¡¯d called themselves the Black Tower, in reference to the beautiful white that graced the Rogun skyline, but they were opposite in colour to denote the emperor¡¯s ideology. Big guards dressed in black began to appear at the entrance to the crypts, big enough to intimidate the royal advisor and any staff he sent to aid his reclusive brother. Coltair not only allowed this but revealed he had ordered the regiment''s creation himself. Its mandate was to guard the crypt so the emperor could continue without fear for his personal security. Zephen heard it loud and clear; although the palace already had a private security force, these men, chosen and likely rewarded for their extreme and exclusive loyalty, would stand between Coltair and anyone wishing to reveal the depths of his brother''s madness. Gruff, deadly guards now attended him around the clock so he could continue his ranting and raving in total seclusion.

    A once brilliant prospect, Zephen had known his brother would be a great emperor. He was serious and dedicated and what he¡¯d lacked in compassion and warmth, he¡¯d made up for in wit and determination to see all that was Rogun and her interests prevail.

    Now in despair, barely a quarter-century into a tumultuous reign, Zephen gave up seeking his brother¡¯s wellness. Lower and lower, the emperor descended to his personal campaign and Zephen could only secretly hope the end would mercifully find him sooner than they planned.

    ---

    Coltair turned from the crypts at the top of the stairs. He took the first flight and landed fast and impatient on the next landing. A boy of about ten, pox-scarred and filthy, halted short and prevented¡ªjust barely¡ªthe bucket he¡¯d been handling from splashing all over him.

    ¡°Watch it, boy!!¡± Coltair barked angrily.

    ¡°Apologies, Sir!¡± the boy replied and moved back with the disgusting bucket that he now saw was human waste.

    ¡°Bah!¡± he hollered at him and ran fast up the stairs and away from the horrible stench.

    A listener. A woman that was like-minded, bearing a gift¡­

    Coltair was so angry at their cryptic response, it was repeated daily for over two decades and nothing had come of it! Two decades he¡¯d followed their rules and instructions, but so far it had gotten him nowhere!

    He huffed and pulled his loose robes tight in frustration. Everything he¡¯d ever done was for the satisfaction of the faceless voices that infested his brain and convinced him his path was righteous and ordained. First, it was to do as his father said: marry and produce children. Unhappily, he¡¯d obliged but only because that was tradition and expected of any emperor worthy of taking the throne. If he¡¯d been unsuccessful, Candice would have been discarded. But if again he had proved unfruitful with a second wife, he would have been set aside instead. Zephen would have then been put to the test and Coltair already knew his brother was more than fertile; he had three bastards in the wings of the courts already. A secure line of succession was paramount for an emperor. It didn¡¯t work without heirs.

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    Frowning, Coltair arrived at the top of the stairs, noticed no one around and proceeded with relief back inside the main palace complex. Inevitably, his obsessive thoughts returned.

    Fine. Where was he to find this gift that he hadn¡¯t checked a thousand times before? A listener with a gift. West. West of where, the island?

    He stopped and turned in the direction described. Due west of his current position, near the very centre of the palace, lay the docks, the open ocean.

    The port.

    Turning fast, he hurried back to his fifth-floor office.

    ¡°I am at your command, My Esteemed Emperor,¡± the chief commander said and bowed low when he arrived in front of his desk.

    ¡°Chief Commander, I am looking for someone near the docks who may be out of the ordinary. I hear they bear a gift for me, one I have been waiting on for some time, but that person seems to have gotten lost. I would like your help to ensure she is found.¡±

    ¡°But, of course, Sire,¡± the man agreed and bowed again. He was sweating profusely and had trouble bowing over his extended belly. His uniform fit well, which only indicated to Coltair that his salary¡ªand whatever side-hustle he had¡ªwas abundant enough to support his lifestyle and his excess. ¡°Do you have a description of this friend?¡± he asked.

    ¡°No, she is west of the palace and¡­ unique,¡± Coltair replied. ¡°Bring them all to me, whatever you find. To the dungeons and I¡¯ll meet them there.¡±

    ¡°Yes, My Emperor,¡± the man answered immediately, looking as though he might faint. Bowing, he left in a fast waddle.

    Three days later, Coltair was summoned to the depths of the dungeons and found himself on the landing once more. The boy wasn¡¯t there, but a dozen palace guards were. Each one gleamed in the perfection of their white and red uniforms and looked utterly out of place in the dark, damp, dingy cellblock.

    ¡°Here, My Emperor!¡± the chief commander called out cheerily from the end of the row.

    Coltair moved slowly, his hands behind his back, inspecting as he walked. At the end, he paused and waited. Inside the cell were ten women of varying status and maturity. An older woman sobbed in the corner, her dress torn and her face and hands dirty and two younger ones clasped each other in terror near the door. They were more finely dressed and stared at the ground with an air of the lower noble class that knew a bit about rank etiquette. The rest mingled around, mumbling.

    Coltair smiled. Finally.

    ¡°Which shall we interview first, Chief Commander?¡± he asked the bulbous man.

    Clearly unprepared to make the call, the man frowned and looked back to the shuffling group behind bars. ¡°Um, well, Sire, you were looking for something unique,¡± he began. ¡°These were assembled because they were seen or were reported to have been seen doing something irregular.¡±

    Coltair nodded, his eyes glued to the shifting women. ¡°Go on,¡± he replied.

    ¡°Well, the old woman in the back, she was talking to animals,¡± he began, ¡°full on conversations, now, a cat and a crow near the brothels.¡± Coltair frowned but indicated he should continue. ¡°The two in front were reading the leaves, Sire, a doubtful practice, of course, and illegal to charge,¡± he added with a heavy layer of contempt in his voice. The girls whimpered and buried themselves deeper in each other¡¯s arms.

    Again, Coltair frowned and now shook his head. While some didn¡¯t like that the images gleaned from the bottom of the teacup sometimes touched close to the truth, it was a parlour game he himself had been taught as a child.

    ¡°The one in red has been throwing curses at patrolmen for two nights straight and the one in blue swears the sea monster is going to strike the next full moon.¡±

    Coltair finally turned and looked at him. The chief commander stepped back.

    ¡°That one talks to ghosts,¡± a small voice volunteered from behind the closest palace guard. Coltair turned sharply to try and see the orator. Squinting, he bent to see it was the bucket boy from the previous day. He curled his finger for the boy to come out.

    Warily, the boy did but stayed well close to the wall.

    ¡°How do you know this?¡± Coltair asked him evenly. The boy, the same who would have more than likely faced execution had he not been quick with the buckets when Coltair had startled him on the stairs, shrugged.

    Coltair took in his tattered clothes, no shoes and black feet. His face was scarred from what looked like old pox and was smudged nearly the same colour as his soles. He looked gaunt and malnourished.

    ¡°I beg for food at the dockside pubs, Sire,¡± he told him and wiped a sleeve across his running nose. ¡°I seen her there. Talking to the spirits, I heard her. Said she was here as they said she should come. Said she was scared and didn¡¯t want to die. Saw her get here a week ago, got a babe in her arms.¡±

    Coltair¡¯s left eyebrow rose slowly but very high.

    ¡°A child, you say?¡± he intoned curiously. With his hands still behind his back, he turned to view the caged inhabitants again. ¡°Point her to me, boy,¡± he said.

    Instantly, the boy was beside him; his skinny, very dirty hand squeezed through the bars as far as his body would allow. His index finger stretched toward a very short woman in a green robe.

    ¡°Her,¡± he said with confidence, making a small grunt at his effort to push himself against the iron. ¡°Green Lady.¡±

    Coltair grinned.

    ¡°Very well,¡± he said and turned back to the chief commander. ¡°Have this woman delivered¡ªwith her child¡ªto my office suite within the hour.¡±

    He turned to leave but stopped to notice the boy staring at him now, wide-eyed and needy.

    ¡°And give this boy a gold piece, new clothes and a bath. I want to see him tomorrow, at my office as well,¡± he added and turned smartly to leave. ¡°He is in your charge from now on, Chief Commander.¡±

 Chapter 7

    Coltair moved to sit at his desk in an unhuuried, contemplative stride. The woman, delivered per his order, sat in a plain chair in the middle of the room. He¡¯d walked around her, peered at her toddler son, but said very little. He was listening for any whispers that might give him a clue.

    The woman, clearly not Rogun, shivered and twitched. After a long fifteen minutes of silence, he noticed her lips moving.

    ¡°Are they saying anything instructive?¡± he asked her.

    Startled, she looked up at him. Her son, asleep for the moment and looking heavy to hold, snorted but didn¡¯t wake.

    ¡°They say you are the king,¡± she replied timidly.

    Coltair sat down and leaned heavily forward on his forearms. He thatched his fingers and a thin, humourless line of a smile pulled his mouth. ¡°Anything else?¡±

    She shook her head. ¡°The soldier man called you emperor.¡± Confusion mixed with the fear in her eyes.

    Coltair only chuckled. As they were alone, he spoke frankly to her. ¡°I am the emperor, up here,¡± he told her. ¡°I am a king to them, , down there,¡± he qualified, tipping one freed hand toward the floor.

    The woman¡¯s eyes grew wide and she clutched her son closer.

    He noticed this and nudged his chin in the boy''s direction. ¡°His father, do you know him?¡±

    The woman nodded. ¡°Knew him. He left us,¡± she told him.

    Coltair considered it. ¡°Until I hear more from them on what we are to do, you will stay here. Your needs and those of your son will be provided for. If you make trouble, you will be moved to the dungeon, understood?¡± he added.

    The woman looked around but swallowed hard and nodded.

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    ¡°One last question, what did they say to get you to come here?¡± he asked her.

    ¡°The king was on Rogun. I was to come with my son for salvation.¡±

    Coltair nodded but ended the interview with a call to his elderly valet. He instructed Mogu on his plan and the man gathered the woman and left.

    ¡°Salvation,¡± he mused and leaned deeply back in his oversized chair. ¡°Finally, our salvation is upon us.¡±

    ---

    Zephen patted his bride''s hand gently and moved to separate from her.

    She offered a sympathetic but reassuring smile and demurely curtsied while he left.

    Out of the garden gathering, he picked up the pace. Zephen hadn¡¯t seen Coltair since the funeral and he had certainly not made an appearance at the reception. He was worried for his brother.

    Two nights earlier, the emperor had lost his wife and sons in a tragic boating incident, all hands lost to the waves for an unexplained reason. The weather had been fair and Candice and her boys had been looking forward to the excursion. A sail around the island, some fishing, lunch on a remote beach and back by nightfall.

    The girls had wanted to attend, but the emperor had refused them. An abnormal interference in the lives of Coltair¡¯s domestic family. Although their father rarely even interacted with them, all their outings were approved by him, nonetheless. On this outing, he¡¯d refused just the princesses. Odd, but he was the emperor. At least he had not lost all of his children in one day.

    Zephen found him in his opulent fifth-floor office, working. As he entered, the page moved to pass Zephen, bowing to him as well before dashing out.

    ¡°Brother,¡± he called out. Coltair didn¡¯t look up. ¡°I am sorry for your loss, my Emperor. Truly, I just wanted to say it. If you need anything, please, I am here.¡±

    Coltair waited to finish his writing. ¡°Yes,¡± he replied with a deep satisfied sigh. Finally, he looked up at him, no expression of sorrow or weight of grief in his eyes. ¡°I want you to perform the ceremony to bind the woman Thea to me,¡± his brother said.

    Zephen halted.

    ¡°I don¡¯t need my daughters there. Just something simple. She won¡¯t be empress,¡± he added.

    Zephen felt ill. ¡°Empress Candice has no successor, then?¡± he stumbled, trying to hide the shock in his voice.

    ¡°No.¡±

    ¡°And if this woman bears you a son? You are only forty-seven, my Esteemed Brother,¡± he reminded him. ¡°A son will gain you an heir. You must try,¡± he implored him, his hands rubbing each other in a nervous circle.

    Coltair considered it a moment but shook his head and returned to the paper and his writing. ¡°I don¡¯t care,¡± he said. ¡°Do what you must to satisfy the law.¡±

    ¡°Yes, my Emperor,¡± Zephen said quietly and when his brother didn¡¯t add any more, he left the room.

 Chapter 8

    Thea fidgeted in the layers of clothing she was wrapped in. She couldn¡¯t remember being so clean, let alone smelling like so many wild things. Florals of a dizzying and nauseating array plumed out from around her and she worked to breathe deeply through her nose to not cough.

    Zephen, the emperor¡¯s nicer brother, stood in front with a book in his hand, droning on about some legal texts that said she was to obey Coltair, the man who sat beside her and who had held her captive for months. Dressed finely, she thought, but not as elaborately or uncomfortably as her, the emperor stayed still with his arms crossed and eyes on the floor, deep in thought and miles away from what was happening there.

    ¡°Under the laws of Rogun, His Highness the Emperor Coltair does recognize this woman, Thea, as his lawfully bound wife and legal consort, until death. All children born and unborn will be of the line of His Majesty, may they be gifted long life.¡±

    Thea swallowed a lump. It had not been her choice to wed the emperor; she wasn¡¯t even a noblewoman. Somehow, the stern and humourless man beside her had the power to overrule all that and he¡¯d announced just the previous day, by way of a page, that she was to be bound to him, legally and for all days.

    In protest, she¡¯d begged to be set free. Sure, she¡¯d been well taken care of in the palace she was forbidden to leave, well-fed, clothed and Dascus had been given a very sweet, very young governess named Sala to tend him, but Thea didn¡¯t like the city. Any city. Away from the Undead Forest, the voices haunted her all the time. Incessantly, they bickered and insulted her. Told her dark and mean things. Told her she should die and meet them there. Only near Riverbrook could Thea get relief from the constant noise. The Sheppard would help her and there would be days¡ªweeks sometimes¡ªof reprieve.

    Even now, the voices whispered and cackled in the back of her skull, her inner ear crawling with their noises, like bugs in her brain. She mumbled and cursed them, unable to contain the strain on her exhausted psyche. Zephen stopped a few times when she did this, but Coltair always waved a hand that he hurry through it.

    Riverbrook was where her daughter lived safely. She missed her body and soul and hated the voices that had driven her to abandon her there and take Dascus, her twin brother, to Rogun, thousands of miles away. If Darnoon had not abandoned them, he could have helped her escape their wicked influence, but their father was gone too. Gone six months and not a word and Thea had been a new mother with infant babies alone in the woods. She¡¯d had no choice but to seek help.

    The voices had told her salvation was on Rogun and that Dascus was a gifted son. They¡¯d drilled her day and night to move and keep moving until she arrived there. Thea had never left the edge of the Great Wood in all her young life. An Orak¡¯Thune mystic, born on the edge of the border with her country and the Bough, she¡¯d grown up with the voices and been shunned from her village, but Darnoon had found her then, been kind to her and shown her the Undead Forest and the Sheppard. She¡¯d found a home and a peace finally, and love she¡¯d thought, in the old man that had shown her such kindness.

    It had been a shocking and heart-wrenching lie. The day after helping deliver their twins in the root of a tree, he¡¯d swaddled them, sat with them until she¡¯d fallen asleep¡ªfeeling safe and content in his protective presence. But when she¡¯d awoken, he and all traces were gone.

    Unable to feed herself or care for her babies who needed clothes and diapers, all things he¡¯d promised to give her, Thea had slipped to the village and given in to the voices.

    ¡°I will swear adoptive rights to your son,¡± Coltair said from her side, startling her from her thoughts.

    She¡¯d not realized the ceremony had stopped. Unable to grasp the full extent of what that could mean, Thea blinked at Zephen. Unable to answer for her, she looked to the side and saw the emperor now looking directly at her.

    Impatient when she didn¡¯t reply after a long moment, he answered for her. ¡°It is done,¡± he told his brother and lifted from his chair, his hand coming under her upper arm to lift her too.

    Coltair walked with her awkwardly, still held by the arm, and into another room. There, Zephen, the royal mother, and three men she didn¡¯t know stood at the edge around the walls. In the centre was a large, decorated but undressed bed.

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    Thea eyed it uncomfortably and then eyed the emperor, who still guided her firmly toward it. Since arriving on the island so many months ago, Thea could count on two hands the number of times Coltair had held meetings with her. Always he talked only about the voices. For her, their messages were the same, their taunts also familiar, just more constant and insistent.

    He stopped her at the edge and let go of her. Thea¡¯s eyes roamed around at the people watching them, clearly unsure what she was supposed to do.

    Coltair huffed loudly and nudged his chin at her.

    ¡°Undress,¡± he told her. Thea¡¯s eyes widened.

    ¡°For what reason?¡± she asked in a hushed voice between them. Coltair eyed her with a tired, icy stare.

    ¡°This is only legal if we consummate. Undress. I¡¯ll be quick,¡± he told her. Thea stepped back.

    With speed she did not expect, his hand grabbed her arm and pulled her so her face was close to his. His eyes bore into hers. ¡°With or without, you committed in the ceremony. You cannot refuse me,¡± he hissed at her.

    Horror filled her expression and she looked side to side for an escape.

    ¡°Here?¡± she whimpered. ¡°In front of people?¡±

    ¡°Legally, it must be witnessed,¡± he replied low and let go of her, still unsure if she would run.

    ¡°I-I,¡± she stuttered. ¡°I can¡¯t,¡± she begged.

    Coltair contained his rage, but she could see it clearly. He took a very deep breath.

    ¡°Fine, turn from me and you will be released,¡± he told her.

    Swallowing, she nodded. Slowly she turned, her head bowed and her hands in front, hidden in the flowing material but twirled and tangled in the garment in her distress.

    Seconds later, she was pushed hard to the bed and held down, bent over the edge. Her hands, still tangled, had no chance to free themselves and remained bound under her body now, unable to resist.

    She remembered Coltair hissing in her ear that if she resisted, he¡¯d slit her throat and then her son¡¯s.

    ---

    ¡°Hurry!¡±

    Thea waved her hand to her son so he would hop the last gap in the decking and move faster along the pier.

    Dascus did hop, but he stumbled a bit too. His mother caught him and grasped his hand tight and rushed with him to keep going.

    It was dark, no moon, and Thea kept her wish to the winds that her son could get away safe constant in her heart and mind. Zephen had made the arrangements. At great personal risk, he¡¯d secured a merchant on his way through the traders'' route, through Orak¡¯Thune and ending in Riverbrook by the year¡¯s end. He¡¯d agreed and been paid an obscene amount to take the boy and care well for him but deliver him to the mountain village in the end. Also, he was sworn to not reveal his true name until the Riverbrook Ward, Nool, took possession of him.

    Unable to stop the sound of their feet slapping on the boards, Thea chose speed over stealth on this last stretch to the boat she could now see at the end. Tiny lanterns along the gunwales rocked gently in the low swells. The sails were still furled and waiting for its final cargo.

    When they got close enough, one of the lanterns lifted and the dark silhouette of a man appeared holding it.

    ¡°Ho, there!¡± he called, not too loudly.

    ¡°Here!¡± she called after. ¡°We¡¯re here!¡±

    The man moved down the plank quickly. Closer, she could make out his face. He smiled, but it was serious to her.

    ¡°I¡¯m afraid got no time for long goodbyes, my Lady,¡± he said to her. ¡°We¡¯ve got patrols this way and must leave the markers before they swing ¡®round or they¡¯ll be asking questions,¡± he told her, but it was not unkind.

    Thea nodded, but instant hot tears had sprung. She handed the man Dascus¡¯s bundle but turned fast and knelt to her son, taking him by the upper arms and looking him square in the eyes.

    ¡°This is for your safety, Dascus,¡± she told him seriously. The boy, now barely eight, only watched her in sad, uncertain distress. He did not speak; that was rare anyway. She frowned and pulled him close in a hug.

    ¡°I will always love you, my darling son!¡± she said, working to stem the tears. ¡°When it is safe, I will come for you. But right now, if you don¡¯t leave, something might happen to us both! Tell no one of your secrets, right?¡± she asked and pulled him apart to speak sternly. Dascus nodded dumbly. ¡°No one!¡± his mother insisted.

    He nodded again.

    ¡°Go on your big adventure then and live well, my love,¡± she added, tears spilling over and tracking down her face in the dim lantern light. ¡°I love you!¡±

    ¡°I love you too, Mama,¡± he said and sniffed once. She grinned for him, stood and gave his little hand to the big man who took it gently. With one final nod to her, he moved to lead Dascus to the boat. Her son looked back but walked on. She blew him a kiss.

    As soon as the boat was safely away, Thea turned and ran like the wind back to the palace grounds. Winds knew what would happen to her daughter if her mother were found missing. Already when Dascus was discovered gone, she¡¯d be in trouble enough. Only her gift and her daughter from Coltair kept her alive now. She had to live just long enough to see Polara old enough to hide or escape one day too. For now, no matter what the voices told her, Thea didn¡¯t care what he would do to her, eventually. Her baby girl didn¡¯t deserve her father¡¯s madness.

 Chapter 9

    Nearly ten years to the night his mother had hid him away on a lowly merchant vessel, Dascus stood at the railing of the fantastic ship he¡¯d boarded to take him home. Wide-bodied and strongly built, it was a passenger ferry of fairly comfortable amenities, with staterooms and a large dining area where the passengers ate mostly together. The sailors were polite, efficient and busy and one in particular had been excellent company to keep him warm at night.

    It wasn¡¯t entirely a pleasant trip for him, but spending the near entirety of his youth¡¯s savings on the fare seemed worth it, he thought. To put Riverbrook behind, one last time, he hoped never to grace the continent again or even speak to an Orak¡¯Thune if he could avoid it. He¡¯d been so sure of his future there; growing up he¡¯d known without a doubt Kara was meant to be with him forever. He¡¯d been made a fool, but that was all behind him now.

    The waves carried them over medium swells, enough so that he had to grip the railing but not so his sea legs could not adjust. He loved the sea, in fact. Fresh, fast air blew past his face and light touches of spray added refreshing mist in the bigger gusts. White gulls chased the boat and the churned swirls and eddies that flanked them. He watched the birds diving like sharp arrows every now and then to hunt whatever it was they stirred up.

    It was a clear day, warm. An hour ago, one of the sailors had shouted that land had been spotted and he¡¯d been glued to the deck ever since.

    Rogun. A place of opulence and warmth, he had not forgotten that his mother had secreted him away to hide him from the emperor. She¡¯d done everything in her limited power to secure his escape back to Riverbrook, to be sure he would grow up away from him. She had also been especially concerned he should not tell anyone that he could speak to the dead. He¡¯d followed that, even in Riverbrook. He¡¯d never told a soul.

    But when Riverbrook fell apart, all that he had built and planned with one visit from some marauding, young king, Dascus had lost all respect and control. In a rage, he¡¯d packed his things and written a brief letter to his adoptive parents, telling them he was leaving to start a life elsewhere. To no one else did he even say a word.

    Kara had spent a considerable amount of time trying to explain, suddenly aware¡ªbut too late¡ªthat she¡¯d wounded him. But no amount of convincing could change her mind or her heart. She¡¯d fallen for Madras and was marrying him.

    Married by now, Dascus corrected himself. It had taken him nearly a year to get on this ship and start the crossing and it took just about three weeks to get from one to the other. His plan was to reunite with his mother and show her he could make for them a new home. Maybe take her from the emperor himself; he doubted he cared little for what would be an old woman now. He was also interested in meeting his now adolescent sister.

    As for the voices, well, they didn¡¯t control him. All his life, since old enough to remember Rogun, they had spoken to him, whispered of things that he didn¡¯t understand and of which he could care less. At Riverbrook, he¡¯d met a spirit or two, but none of those had cared about any ¡®destiny¡¯ or ¡®fire serpent¡¯ either. Ghosts telling tales to scare the living, he surmised, and brushing them aside became easier as he¡¯d grown older.

    When the boat lined up with its berth, most of the passengers had crowded the railings along with him to witness it. Gradually the ship moved closer, linesmen running out to catch swinging ropes and tethers and, with experienced hands, wrapped them with lightning speed around the mooring cleats bolted to the deck.

    A gentle bump and the ship was docked. Moments later, the gangplank shot out.

    Cheering erupted from the elated and celebratory passengers and Dascus smiled slightly at the relief to have arrived too. He was also pleased to be one of the first off and completely free of the ship, having travelled with only a single bag that he now carried on his back.

    His first stop was a medium-grade, port-side inn called the Drenched Cat. With a well-maintained fa?ade and clean, modestly decorated sign, it advertised to those travellers who had the money to pay for a certain guarantee the ale and sustenance was not swimming with vermin.

    After placing his order, he turned to listen to the patrons. He needed to gather news and be brought up to date before he approached the palace. Announcing himself as the one-time-adopted son of the emperor might be a bit presumptuous, and definitely unwise until he knew the climate of tidings surrounding the royal family.

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    Dascus knew the one national holiday was approaching, so he leaned to the table beside, where a man and woman sat, and asked if the day was still as anticipated as he had heard.

    ¡°Oh, yes!¡± the woman replied with a grin. Her husband drank long from his ale cup but nodded before he swallowed.

    ¡°I heard the emperor likes to donate confections to the children in the parades. That¡¯s a lovely gesture,¡± Dascus went on, working to instill a tourist persona.

    The woman looked at her companion with a bit less excitement.

    ¡°Emperor not as enthusiastic about the general folk these days,¡± he said in a gravelly voice.

    Dascus frowned a bit in puzzlement.

    ¡°Well, there is the parade, of course,¡± the woman went on, batting her fingers on the man''s forearm. ¡°But the people supply the decorations now, we don¡¯t hear much from the palace these days,¡± she added decorously.

    The man grunted. ¡°¡¯Cept when a guard comes round and wants money not to arrest ya,¡± he growled.

    ¡°A little rough in areas, I take it?¡± Dascus pushed, looking to know if the city had changed more than he imagined.

    The man then looked directly at him. He eyed him through narrowed, uninterested eyes.

    ¡°Areas?¡± the man repeated and huffed once. ¡°Rogun ain¡¯t what it used to be, boy. Once the emperor gave a turd about his city. Sure, it was because he hated the stench, but he kept it nice and tidy. Now? Coltair don¡¯t give no shits about us. Now the guards run the streets, gangsters every last one of them. They own the pubs, parlours and brothels, you know. You be careful when you go looking in any of those places now. They¡¯ll take your money in the front and the back and slit you in the alley for your trouble.¡±

    Dascus leaned back in surprise. ¡°I don¡¯t understand. Is the emperor sick?¡±

    The woman laughed nervously and shrugged. Her husband carried on. ¡°Don¡¯t know, but nobody sees him much anymore,¡± he said.

    Dascus moved to sip from his cup while he considered this. What he remembered, only ten years ago, was a city tightly controlled by Coltair and his brother Zephen; a firm and dictatorial leadership, the way it always had been. Clean streets, no begging children and the bums and slums were relegated to a small quarter near the barge depot far out at the end of the harbour district. The guards frequently patrolled the commercial district in crisp uniforms. He remembered shopping with his mother and sister in comfort, a regular and enjoyable activity, with little concern for security.

    He had noticed the dingier colour and scent of the city since stepping off his transport.

    ¡°Will the emperor''s children ride in the children¡¯s parade? Is that still a tradition?¡± he asked.

    It was a safe way to know if his sister would be visible to him outside the palace walls. The children¡¯s parade was where the prince and princesses would ride their brightly coloured horses and gilded carriages down the main street and throw gifts to the common children lined up to receive them. It was a spectacle of wealth but colourful, festive and filled with dancers and music. The event was always popular. He himself had ridden in the ornate carriage with his mother, being too young to safely ride a horse alone. There was a chance she would be there still, being that she was never empress and would have no place in the more formal ceremonies.

    The man and the woman looked at each other, concern colouring their features.

    ¡°Um, well, there remain only two children, you see,¡± the woman began and shot a few furtive glances at her husband, but he remained silent, choosing to bury his face in his cup. ¡°One, really,¡± she added and looked sadder. Dascus stared at her.

    ¡°And the runt is sickly,¡± the man blurted out, disgust on his face. The woman looked stricken by his words and glanced around quickly in concern.

    ¡°I don¡¯t understand,¡± Dascus admitted, still shocked that out of two daughters from his first wife, and a boy and a girl from his current one, the emperor counted only Polara and they¡¯d heard she was sick.

    ¡°The older girls were married off young, of course. Princess Palmira died in a storm crossing the Green Sea on her way to the Antarian king. Poor dear, so her sister Princess Perseya was sent to replace her,¡± she told him and hung her head a bit. ¡°Princess Polara is well and all, but we rarely see her,¡± the woman said, low over the table. Dascus closed his eyes in relief. ¡°The boy, Vail, well,¡± she said and shrugged.

    ¡°Vail?¡± Dascus said in confusion. The man turned his head to see him, mild amusement on his face.

    ¡°You get your news slow, boy,¡± he teased him. Dascus waved a hand, indicating that they should fill him in.

    ¡°Third wife gave him a son, Prince Vail,¡± he told him, speaking leisurely. ¡°But he¡¯s a sickly lad. Skinny, pale.¡±

    ¡°Third wife?¡± Dascus replied, inhaling sharply in disbelief. Shock gripped his chest. The woman noticed and leaned to pat his hand in concern. He swallowed.

    The man had been watching him closely. He frowned and looked like he was tired of the company. ¡°Yes, third wife. Offed the last one after the boy disappeared. Served her right for stealing the heir away from us. Now come, Myrtle. Time¡¯s a wastin¡¯ if we¡¯re to get to Palm Plantation before nightfall,¡± he said and urged his wife to stand. The woman nodded in agreement and lifted her shawl to wrap it around her shoulders.

    ¡°I hope you take care, Mister,¡± she told him. ¡°Rogun is still full to the brim with honest and lovely people. Just gotta watch that palace and any uniformed men you watch out for now especially. Corruption done gone to their heads, we suppose. Not as safe for us common folk as it was,¡± she said and dipped in polite curtsy but moved ahead of her husband to leave.

    Dascus had no reaction, not even to thank them. His mother was dead.

 Chapter 10

    Rage filled his head and mangled his gut. Dascus had left the Drenched Cat without touching his meal, but he paid in full and nearly ran directly to the palace officials¡¯ representative. The office stood outside the walled complex and served as a go-between for making appointments with anyone who worked inside. It was late in the day and the thought crossed his mind that the office might be closed, but he kicked in the wood door anyway to find out for sure.

    A portly man, sweating in his navy-blue linen shirt and long vest, jumped from his seat at the back of the room. Three other people were sitting in chairs, likely waiting their turn to meet with him, but Dascus scowled at them and drew his short sword. All three screamed, stood and ran away.

    ¡°I want an audience with Senior Advisor Zephen within the hour,¡± Dascus said then, his blade point level with the man¡¯s eyes.

    The man, noticing the blade very close to the tip of his nose, stuttered, ¡°I-I can¡¯t get his-his Excellency to-to respond that quickly, S-Sir!¡± he complained.

    Dascus eyed the room. Behind the man stood a door. He smirked.

    ¡°That goes inside the walls, doesn¡¯t it?¡± he said and moved his point toward the door. The man moved only a quarter turn, but his eyes registered his rising panic. He didn¡¯t want to respond and worked not to, so Dascus grinned and moved fast around his desk on his own.

    ¡°Sir!¡± the man complained but did not move to grab him.

    Dascus opened the door easily and poked his head through. There were no guards there, though he saw some walking across the palisade in a relaxed stride. He slipped through and shut the door behind him. As a last thought, he smashed the handle with his sword hilt.

    Replacing his sword, he strolled across the open courtyard. He knew exactly where to go, having spent six years of his life running around it as a child. He also knew that few people would question him once inside, believing security had approved him at whatever entry, so Dascus took his time.

    Nothing had changed on the inside. The palace was as immaculate as he remembered; perfectly manicured gardens and lawns, pristine white benches, enormous urns with potted palms at intervals and beautiful bronze lanterns and braziers dotted the common areas. With evening falling, servants were hurrying around to light them.

    Also, he remembered the constant movement of people on the grounds, mostly servants and courtiers. It was never quiet and completely empty. He nodded to two lovely young women, who giggled and curtsied in return as he walked by.

    At the atrium, Dascus admired the expanse of the room, as he always had. Even though he was no longer a child, it was inspiring, nonetheless. Turning left, he took the stairs two at a time, all the way to the fourth level.

    At the landing, he ducked sharply into an office when he noticed two guards coming his way. He waited for them to pass, checked the hall and resumed his path.

    Two doors down, at the second largest office in the complex, Dascus paused. There were a few pages running around and another servant lighting wall sconces, but otherwise, they were alone. He pushed the door open and entered. To his immense luck, he heard papers shuffling but no voices. He went through the empty reception area and entered the office itself.

    Zephen, his uncle by marriage, rummaged around an enormous desk, clearly exasperated at not finding something. He¡¯d not heard the door or at least assumed it was the help, and ignored it.

    ¡°Uncle,¡± Dascus said and waited.

    Startled, Zephen yelped, hopping violently in his chair. He looked up at the cloaked figure, his hand over his chest and face, an expression of wild exclamation, but immediately his eyes narrowed.

    ¡°Who are you? What is this?¡± he demanded. Anger quickly replaced surprise.

    Dascus smirked and pushed his hood back.

    Zephen sat forward and peered at him, but recognition didn¡¯t come.

    ¡°I came to resettle, to find out what could be done to reconcile, not for money or title, but to see my elderly mother again and reacquaint with my sister. To meet the family that I lost.¡±

    Zephen¡¯s eyes widened in dawning understanding.

    ¡°Dascus?¡± he said in an awed whisper.

    He nodded once. ¡°So, I step off the ship and immediately ask my fellow Roguns, what event at the Ancestors¡¯ Day celebration should I be most looking forward to? The children¡¯s parade, perhaps? The Emperor¡¯s Address?¡± he added and took a step forward.

    Zephen watched all this but was clearly still trying to fit all the pieces together.

    ¡°And then I hear,¡± he said and the warmth left his voice, ¡°there is no longer any children¡¯s parade, as the emperor only has two children and one he doesn¡¯t show off. A poor replacement for the ones he¡¯d killed or lost, or so the people say,¡± he added with contempt.

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    Zephen immediately frowned and leaned gently backward to sit straight. ¡°What did you hear?¡± he asked a bit angrily.

    Dascus advanced again and now stood over the edge of his desk, well within striking distance if he wanted to show his sword. ¡°That Coltair killed my mother,¡± he told him in a low growl.

    Zephen blanched. As if the truth had suddenly illuminated the room, he surrendered. ¡°He did,¡± he told him, ¡°and I am sorry for this, Dascus. Truly from the bottom of my heart, Thea did not deserve any of this, least of all for trying to save you from his obsession.¡±

    To hear it confirmed as just a matter of fact caught Dascus off guard. He leaned back and sucked in a sharp breath, surprised by the sudden sob.

    ¡°When she asked me to arrange your escape, I begged her not to do it. But with or without my help, your mother was getting you off this island. At least I was able to secure you a caretaker¡ªwho I see did what I paid him to¡ªif left to her, she would have sold you to a fishmonger!¡±

    Dascus moved back again but not out of the room. He saw a small sitting chair in the corner and sat heavily into it.

    Zephen stood then but moved only to come around and lean on the front of his enormous bureau. ¡°Dascus, you are in great danger here! Your mother was correct about that. I had no right to disagree and we both feared what would happen if my brother got his hands on you! Why have you returned? For the love of the winds, boy, what could have possessed you?¡±

    Dascus, weakened by the horrible truth, allowed Zephen his words and tone but wasn¡¯t going to be humbled by them. He stood fast and loomed once again over his former uncle, who he noticed now was not a tall man. To an eight-year old, he had once been huge.

    ¡°Riverbrook was great¡ªuntil it wasn¡¯t.¡± His humourless grimace dismissed the longer story he wished not to relive. ¡°I had to leave and this is the only family I know. My mother always said she¡¯d come for me. Well, I am a man now. I was old enough to come for her. She¡¯d be the right age to leave this place. No longer useful to him for breeding and he never made her a title that did anything useful. I expected a few more siblings maybe, and maybe a negotiation on her behalf, but not dead, Zephen. Never did I expect he would kill her over me.¡±

    Zephen swallowed, but true compassion did lie in his eyes. He sighed in sympathy. ¡°I am sorry, my boy.¡±

    ¡°What happened?¡± Dascus asked, not sure he wanted the details, but at the same time, he did. He hated the man that had trapped and forced himself on his mother, taken her freedom and her children and imprisoned them all in a gilded cage for his personal use and purposes. He did not need any more reasons to hate him further.

    ¡°You were discovered missing,¡± Zephen replied with a helpless shrug. ¡°Thea had no defence and he arrested her. I tried to interfere, Dascus, but when it comes to my brother,¡± he said, but it fell away. ¡°She never connected me.¡± Wringing his hands, he hung his head, unable to look at him. Neither spoke for a long moment.

    ¡°And now?¡± Dascus asked then. ¡°This sickly child I heard about? He took a new wife?¡±

    Zephen huffed in exasperation and walked back around his desk to sit down. ¡°Yes, he was forced to,¡± he told him. ¡°At least it might be helpful to know that Thea¡¯s execution was not popularly received.¡±

    Dascus sneered. ¡°No one forces Coltair.¡±

    ¡°The law does,¡± Zephen retorted. ¡°You were the last boy,¡± he reminded him sharply.

    Dascus cursed. He still had his sword held tightly in his hand, but he no longer felt like stabbing Zephen over it. He sheathed it and turned his back to his uncle.

    ¡°I wish it weren¡¯t so, Dascus,¡± Zephen said, more delicately now. ¡°But you must go and never return here. I would like nothing more than to know you, as I once did. I cared for you and your mother, but the emperor will certainly imprison you if he finds you here. He coveted you; you were the ¡®gift¡¯ to his mad plan¡ªwhatever that means¡ªand he waits, even now, for that clue to be resolved for him; you must flee, nephew!¡±

    ¡°And my sister?¡± Dascus asked over his shoulder without turning.

    ¡°Polara is well,¡± Zephen replied. ¡°Girls are less useful to the crown. She is safe and happy, as far as I know. She is fond of the young prince and protects him. As you did once for her,¡± he added softly.

    Dascus frowned and turned to look at Zephen again.  he grumbled.

    Zephen nodded and picked a piece of skin on his thumb. ¡°Yes, she will likely be married to someone useful when she comes of age,¡± he admitted.

    Dascus wanted to see Polara. Before he went, he wanted to lay eyes on the girl who was still a tiny baby in his memory and the only flesh and blood relative he had left. ¡°I want to see her,¡± he said, but his uncle didn¡¯t respond.

    Zephen¡¯s eyes had widened at the exact moment a loud shuffling erupted behind him.

    Dascus whirled around and came face to face with a uniformed, heavily scarred man that sneered at him with an evil grin. ¡°Well, well,¡± Izik jeered, looking him up and down.

    ¡°A guest, Izik, he was just leaving,¡± Zephen said and stood quickly, but Izik only chortled at him.

    ¡°A guest used to threatening his way past the palace reception? Carrying a weapon, no less,¡± he added and moved Dascus¡¯s cloak aside to view the short sword belted to his hip. It was a punishable offence to be armed within the palace complex.

    ¡°No harm, Izik. I vouch for this man. Let him pass,¡± Zephen ordered, but Izik wasn¡¯t in the mood to obey.

    The blood drained from Dascus¡¯s face.

    ¡°Do you now?¡± Izik stopped walking around Dascus to peer at the royal advisor. ¡°I¡¯m sure the emperor will find this dull and uninteresting then. Tell me his name so I can at least complete my report.¡±

    ¡°Taggert,¡± Dascus said immediately and eyed Zephen for a short moment. ¡°My name is Taggert and his Excellency had hired me to deliver goods for His Majesty on the southern shore. It went fine, but the ship sustained damage. He did not tell me I was transporting lions and one got loose, killed two of my crew. I¡¯m  looking for recompense.¡±

    Izik grinned at him. ¡°At the tip of a blade, Master Taggert?¡± he said. ¡°Personally, I agree with that style of negotiations myself, but see, my master frowns at folks threatening his brother, so besides the logical reason for your tale, I¡¯m just going to have to detain you until the master says otherwise. You understand,¡± he added and moved to indicate two of his men should bind his hands and take him.

    ¡°His Exalted Highness need not be bothered with such pointless affairs, Chief Commander,¡± Zephen urged then, anger rising in his voice.

    Izik looked surprised and amused.

    Clearly, Zephen¡¯s failing grip was proving his suspicions nicely.

    ¡°That¡¯s for the emperor to decide, Royal Advisor,¡± he replied simply, turning fast and his men with him, dragging the struggling Dascus from the room.

    <hr>

 Chapter 11

    Dascus awoke in darkness. The absence of any light source was so complete it stifled him. He could not tell how much time had passed, except he¡¯d been held in a dungeon cell for what had to be several days while Izik¡¯s men beat and tortured him for details. Then, suddenly he¡¯d been grabbed from the floor and dragged farther down into the basement. He remembered the stairs and then being hit over the head but nothing afterward.

    Now awake after unknown hours or days, he was tied to a chair in the blackness.

    A sudden flare erupted in front of him, blinding him so his eyes shut hard and instantly. It took a long moment before he could open them. When he did, a lone brazier burned low against a stone wall. An old man stood beside it, watching him.

    ¡°Coltair,¡± he seethed through a fat lip and aching jaw.

    The man, slightly hunched, moved ahead. He wore a heavy, black cloak over his shoulders and a permanent scowl marred his features. Coltair stopped a few feet away, close enough to view him but not to touch. He held a perfectly smooth stone in his one hand, which he rubbed with his thumb in a circular motion.

    Dascus could not figure out if it was with anger or contempt the emperor eyed him with now.

    Gift¡­ Gift¡­ Gift¡­

    Dascus stiffened, but Coltair remained perfectly still.

    ¡°Yes,¡± he said darkly, ¡°they see you, Dascus. Gift that you are.¡±

    Dascus fidgeted with his bindings. These were undead  voices, spirits. No one else was supposed to know that about him.

    ¡°What is? What are you talking about, old man?¡± he replied in frustration.

    ¡°So, you will pretend with me then. Sad that you would choose the lesser path, really. We are gods, you and I. To hear the ancestors is the rarest of gifts. The rarest of tasks is what lies ahead for us. Unfortunate your mother hid you from me as well. We could have begun our work so many years ago, but alas, at least you are now a man and not a snivelling child any longer,¡± Coltair added and walked away.

    ¡°I have no idea what you¡¯re talking about. You killed my mother, which is reason enough to ensure I will never help you.¡±

    Coltair chuckled and kept walking leisurely around the room, rubbing his rock.

    ¡°Your mother, yes,¡± he murmured. ¡°A lost cat in a storm, that one.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t,¡± Dascus warned, but Coltair ignored him.

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    ¡°She heard the voices. Did she tell you that?¡± he asked him, but Dascus kept his eyes forward and refused to answer. ¡°Yes, she was a ¡®mystic,¡¯ the Bough call them. A ¡°sensitive.¡± Someone with the ability but not the power; she could hear but do nothing about it. What a waste.¡±

    Dascus burned with hatred but pulled all his will not to engage.

    ¡°She did not tell me about you,¡± Coltair went on and when his path crossed Dascus¡¯s line of sight, he saw him grinning. ¡°She didn¡¯t have to. I knew you were coming to me, Dascus. Long before you were even born.¡± He paused his talking but continued to walk around. His feet shuffled against the stone floor and when he passed the brazier, his shadow cast long across the floor.

    ¡°They told me,¡± he whispered but now suddenly very close to his ear. Dascus jumped in startlement.

    ¡°Gift! They called to me. ¡®A like-mind that bore a gift.¡¯ That was their clue. All I had to do was find you and the winds brought you right along. You were what, two when you first arrived? What, pray tell, would you call that but unbridled, undeniable destiny?

    He had returned to walking and crossed again in front of him. He stopped now and turned to face him.

    ¡°I don¡¯t deny the forces we hear,¡± Dascus said finally, recognizing it was useless to refute. ¡°But what you want with them and what I want are two separate things.¡±

    ¡°And what is that, dear boy?¡± Coltair asked, now amused.

    Dascus glared at him. ¡°You want power. I want them to leave me alone. If it were up to me, I would have none of it at all. My mother¡¯s affliction passed to me. Unfortunate, but that doesn¡¯t mean I need to let it control my life. And don¡¯t forget it was she that brought me here, not me. I came back to save her from YOU!¡±

    Coltair leaned on his heels and moved to clasp his hands behind his back. ¡°You think you are mystic?¡±

    Dascus huffed and looked away.

    Coltair moved closer and finally very close. One hand came around to grab Dascus¡¯s chin hard and hold it. ¡°You are no mystic, Dascus,¡± he growled very close to his face. ¡°You are a necromancer, like me. A full power interpreter of the undead. The ancestors gave us these gifts to guide us in their future. You see here, they have assembled, grown and bided their time for us. Just the two that could hear them and work with them to see their divine plan to fruition.¡± He shoved Dascus¡¯s face away and stood slowly upright to loom over him.

    ¡°What plan?¡± Dascus snapped.

    ¡°Immortality, my dear boy,¡± Coltair replied factually.

    Dascus looked up at him, now beginning to feel afraid. ¡°Immortality?¡±

    Coltair held his gaze. ¡°Theirs and mine,¡± he told him. ¡°And through you, the gift the ancestors insisted was crucial to this plan, we will succeed.¡± He turned from him and unhurriedly walked to the giant, polished bronze door. With his hand on the handle, he paused to look at him for a long moment again.

    ¡°It took fifty-three years for me to interpret their meaning and put into place all the moving pieces that stretch now across the world. You, they will educate for however long they deem it necessary to be ready before the next phase. From what I gather, that isn¡¯t very long. This will likely be very frightening for you, my boy, maybe even painful, but take consolation in the fact that when it is all over, we will live forever, unable to be killed or harmed and the wisdom of the ancestors will wash over this world like a wave for all to serve. I will be king of all Darkness and you, my princely son, my partner in the Undead . The balance of all life and death will be secured in the shade, not the light, and therefore all will be ours to command.¡±

    Coltair turned and walked from the crypt, pulling the enormous door closed shut behind him, locking Dascus in the pitch black.

    <hr>

 Chapter 12

    Zephen smiled. At the very end of the day, the heat at its laziest and most intense, he was wilting in his seat in the stuffy office. But, just as despair threatened to take over, her lovely letter had appeared on the top of his work pile.

    Not having noticed it before, he reached now and gently took the carefully folded, painted piece of paper and worked to undo the delicate bends and twists that kept it neatly held in the design of a bird. Once undone, the feminine script swirled across the page:

    ¡°Love, I await you in the crystal lagoon. Wear something¡­ simple.¡±

    Zephen laughed but instantly covered it. Joy wasn¡¯t something widely shared in his brother¡¯s kingdom. He travelled outside of the city to share happy moments with his mistress.

    Anxious to be off, he pocketed his lover¡¯s creation and moved to organize the enormous piles of dossiers before leaving.

    ¡°Royal Advisor!¡± a page called from his doorway, clearly out of breath. ¡°The emperor summons you.¡±

    Frowning, he took a long, steadying breath. He nodded and the page ran away.

    Climbing the stairs to the upper level, Zephen considered the weeks since last he¡¯d met with Coltair, hoping to find some reason not to be surprised by a sudden call to attend him. Since Dascus¡¯s reappearance, Coltair had become even more intense and unbearable than before. Zephen had badgered him for weeks after Izik had dragged his step-nephew away, finally gaining a vague confession from the emperor to have interrogated the young man, but he¡¯d sworn he¡¯d let him go. Having no way to prove it, however, and though he¡¯d looked everywhere, employed dozens of spies, he¡¯d had no choice but to accept his brother¡¯s ambiguous responses regarding his own son and heir.

    Cresting the final step with a slow, building dread, he spotted the emperor¡¯s pet, Izik. Chief commander now for only a year, he was widely feared and for good reason. The man was an animal of violence and intimidation and the current leader of the infamous and secretive Black Tower. Quick-witted, yes, he had intelligence, but compassion or empathy? None whatsoever. His brother had first taken him under his employ as his errand boy since he was discovered as an orphaned child, but Zephen had never found him pleasant to be around. Now an official in the emperor¡¯s staff, he had rank to legitimize his intimidating activities and that afforded an ego that Zephen despised.

    ¡°Majesty,¡± Izik said when he saw him approaching.

    Zephen plastered a respectable grin to his face and nodded in return. ¡°The emperor required my attention, Chief Commander. Shall I go in?¡± he asked politely.

    Izik sneered but chucked his chin over his shoulder. He laughed but pushed open the enormous double doors to the emperor¡¯s office.

    A suite of immense size compared to Zephen¡¯s, it boasted two whole rooms, one of opulent reception with sofas and sitting chairs, a bar and washroom, and the second, a full office with desk and conference table, another washroom, dressing rooms and a sleeping suite. His brother mostly lived here and never used the ten-bedroom suite of the emperor¡¯s royal apartments two levels down. His third wife and two children lived there in quiet peace without him.

    ¡°Zephen, come here.¡±

    Turning toward the office, he saw Coltair leaning over his conference table on his elbows, his nose nearly touching the table surface.

    ¡°You summoned me, my Emperor,¡± he said, working to control his exasperation. He moved to stand at the opposite side of the table. He noticed the map Coltair was examining and the reason he was looking so closely; it was not for lack of excellent eyesight. Aside from being nearly sixty-four years old, his eyes¡ªand the rest of his body¡ªseemed in perfect condition. His hair was grey but full, his body strong.

    ¡°These islands, are they mapped? Are they ours?¡± Coltair asked and stuck an index finger over the very tiny sketch of a dotted archipelago somewhere out in the Green Sea, easily three thousand or so miles from Rogun.

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    Zephen leaned in and studied them for a moment. ¡°Ah, those are unconfirmed islands, my Emperor,¡± he told him. ¡°We have sent expeditions, yes, a few times, but nothing was ever found or the scouts never returned. We presume something is there; someone marked the maps, but the story goes that it is pirate territory. They don¡¯t want to be found.¡±

    Coltair¡¯s eyes narrowed at last. ¡°If these are usable lands, this would be a colony for resupply between us and Elutia,¡± he said.

    Zephen nodded to agree, but no emperor before had ever secured them. In his opinion, it was costly and wasteful to keep trying. He said nothing.

    Coltair frowned at his silence and turned from him. ¡°I am in negotiations with King Vikan,¡± he said. ¡°Soon, we will have our stronghold in the Green Sea. A highly efficient waypoint between east and west, servicing our fleet, which will travel around the globe for our endeavours. Nothing will stop them. Soon we won¡¯t need to rely on Orak¡¯Thune or her allies'' ports at exorbitant rates.¡±

    Zephen considered this. He¡¯d heard correspondence had begun with the Elutian sovereign but not that he had replied. It was one of the frustrating truths of their relationship, Coltair still kept things from him. Even as his senior advisor, after forty years, his brother chose to work in solitude and wariness until he needed administrative, tedious tasks accomplished in their conclusion. He rarely asked for advice anymore.

    ¡°What will you negotiate? Elutia is far from here. Produce would spoil and any of our finer exports aren¡¯t really coveted by a country so far lost in a world-away ocean; why would they care?¡±

    Coltair looked up at him, a pained expression on his face.

    ¡°I want that alliance. I want my soldiers Elutia will pledge to me; I want my armour stored in their warehouses and ready when I need them a world away to defend my interests in a foreign sea. Antaria or Jeska will bow to MY treaties, brother,¡± he seethed at him. ¡°Vikan also tells me his warships will one day be the biggest in the world, but he needs my lumber to build them. Bawes is not currently playing ball and Orak¡¯Thune¡¯s too lazy to travel that far. So Rogun will answer his need and he promises three man of wars to our navy, here by next years¡¯ end. Orak¡¯Thune will awaken to our superiority, Zephen. The seas, very soon, will be mine to control.¡±

    ¡°What lumber?¡± Zephen retorted but immediately checked himself and added, ¡°my Emperor.¡±

    Rogun didn¡¯t have sustainable forestry. Neither did Kitska, their closest trading partner. Only Antaria boasted old enough deciduous and coniferous forests that Orak¡¯Thune could trade for marine construction and Zephen was sure the trade talks with them had not advanced that much.

    ¡°Bawes is getting greedy,¡± Coltair informed him. ¡°I¡¯ll pay him what he wants in Kitskan jewels and gold for the first shipment.¡±

    ¡°Grayson will discount you,¡± Zephen supposed and Coltair nodded. ¡°And the next shipment? He may be a child, but he¡¯s as greedy as his father ever was. His advisors won¡¯t allow him to discount you for long. Kitska is not that generous.¡±

    ¡°We renegotiate.¡± A sly, unfriendly smile crept up Coltair¡¯s mouth.

    ¡°And Elutia? Lumber is all they need? What if Antaria bails on that arrangement and we don¡¯t find out for a half-year or more. Will they be so forgiving?¡±

    ¡°They are joining the empire, my brother,¡± Coltair said and left the map to walk to his desk.

    Zephen, surprised by the news, followed but was confused to know what his emperor could offer that was so valuable as to be worthy of the pledge of allegiance.

    ¡°I am marrying Polara to Vikan,¡± Coltair announced with a smug grin. ¡°He¡¯s going to be family.¡±

    Zephen froze.

    ¡°I am sending Izik to speak to Grayson and you, I want to meet Vikan. I need to establish a very tight line of loyalty across this shipping lane, Zephen. I want it in the empire¡ªironclad.¡±

    ¡°You want me to go to Elutia?¡± he said, incredulity ruining his ability to remember etiquette.

    Coltair lifted his chin in disapproval.

    ¡°My Emperor,¡± Zephen rushed on, ¡°that is a year¡ªat least¡ªaway from you. I am not sure that is wise, as your senior advi-¡±

    Coltair¡¯s eyes flashed, his expression instantly turning to rage.

    Zephen shut up and took a step back.

    ¡°I don¡¯t need a senior advisor sitting around pushing paper for the bare minimum of hours during the day and screwing every court whore that is not his wife, in the lagoons outside and away from my supervision all night, populating my court with even more bastards. I need an advisor that is out working to strengthen the alliances that I form and who reinforce this empire! As this is the farthest alliance I have yet to secure, I need a senior representative on this voyage. At minimum, to keep up the appearance that the princess is valuable to me and I care for her safety. You will escort your niece, see her married, see her planted and see that my treaties are signed in Vikan¡¯s own hand. Then, and only then, may you return to me. Is that understood? Brother?¡±

    Zephen, frozen in fear at his brother¡¯s outburst and words, swallowed hard and nodded weakly.

    ¡°On your way, you will investigate those islands,¡± Coltair added flippantly and threw a hand back toward the table across the room. When Zephen looked to the map and back at his brother, Coltair leaned over his desk on his fists. ¡°Now get out."

 Chapter 13

    The wind from a sudden storm howled outside his window and Coltair turned his back away. Izik had just entered, having arrived back from Kitska that afternoon. He was flush with the exercise and the adventure. Coltair could tell it would be an interesting interview. Whenever his chief commander was animated and smiling this way, it meant things had gone to plan or better and that some poor loser had gotten the worst end of his deal.

    ¡°My Emperor,¡± Izik began with a flamboyant bow. He had removed his helmet when he¡¯d passed the outer doors. Coltair was pleased he¡¯d not stopped to rest or change before reporting to him.

    ¡°Izik, what news from the frigid wastelands?¡± he asked evenly, indicating the man could take a seat in the small chair in front of his enormous desk.

    ¡°Grayson is on board, Highness,¡± he said. ¡°Whatever we need, he will provide. He¡¯s already irate about this new king the Orak filth have upped and crowned¡ªsome Madras or other? Anyway, he believed our reports that that new baby-king wants to ¡®improve on the old ways''  and all that and droned on at length how he feels they are squeezing Kitska for more than he can produce. He wants our goods now and in wild abandon, apparently to screw over Madras and his silly brother. Plus, I showed him the land for his summer colony, the crappy small village plot on the southern edge. He didn¡¯t complain.¡±

    Coltair sat back in his chair and gently rubbed his fingers over his mouth. ¡°Will he accept Vail to marry his sister?¡± he asked.

    Izik grinned and shook his head. ¡°She died, Sire, but he did offer me a future  daughter.¡±

    Coltair smirked.

    Izik grinned and shrugged. ¡°With your permission, why not?¡±

    ¡°I think that should go to my son, but if he dies before she arrives, we¡¯ll consider it,¡± Coltair replied.

    Izik snorted at the obvious villainy the king of Kitska was willing to resort to, in order to appease the Rogun emperor. He liked Grayson. A king by mere months, he was cunning unlike his father, who he¡¯d heard had gone insane and killed himself trying to attack the Orak¡¯Thune over the sea ice in winter. A highborn woman of his own would help secure Izik¡¯s status, but if the runt heir needed it first, so be it. He shrugged it off.

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    Not a particularly secure man, Izik fidgeted a lot. Coltair, a slow, calm, and calculating individual, noticed the commander¡¯s near constant twitching and recognized likely the damage from an insecure upbringing on the streets. He¡¯d found him cleaning dungeon buckets as a discarded youth, which had given Coltair all the avenues to groom and raise the man to be his personal muscle and spy. He¡¯d been loyal ever since and now held the highest military position in the nation. Izik was the man he could trust to enforce wrath and ruin, often in bloody and horrific ways, but in times of subtlety, he was just as devious too.

    ¡°Prince still sickly, then?¡± Izik asked, bordering on infringement of his emperor¡¯s privacy, but as for all of his children, Coltair had only ever cared about one and he remained secure in the care of the ancestors.

    Coltair shrugged, uncaring. Izik considered the man¡¯s apathy against the recent truth he¡¯d been revealed, the truth that Coltair didn¡¯t need an heir. He had immortality within his grasp and would never secede the throne.

    As the emperor¡¯s right-hand man, Izik was well placed to benefit enormously from a never-ending regime. He would do whatever was required to keep Coltair in power¡ªalive or undead¡ªand he was willing to support any plan to ensure it.

    Coltair eyed his man, carefully observing the pockmarked face of a terrible bout of chickenpox but also scars of battle and street brawls he¡¯d endured all through his youth, as far back as he could remember. Often the fights were to the death and more than a few times, they¡¯d barely been in Izik¡¯s favour.

    ¡°Izik,¡± Coltair said conversationally, ¡°I want you to remember that the plans I have put into place, though unconventional, I have worked on my entire life. I am as confident as any master of the gifts and I need you to understand that it may come one day that it is not I, in this body, conversing with you, like this,¡± he added and waved his hand loosely and relaxed between them. ¡°It may be that this body will be interred and I will speak to you in other ways. I have the knowledge for immortality, my friend,¡± he reminded his commander. ¡°It just might not look like what you think.¡±

    Izik nodded, keeping up with his master''s meaning. He shifted in his uncomfortable chair. ¡°So, you will look like something else, a ghost or something?¡± he asked.

    Coltair¡¯s eyes narrowed, but he smiled. ¡°Something like it, yes,¡± he replied. Izik grinned. ¡°But soon after, I will be free of the veil and likely you and I will meet face to face once more.¡±

    Izik slapped his knee in bated excitement. ¡°Oh, Majesty,¡± he said and laughed once with genuine enthusiasm, ¡°I can¡¯t wait to see that. Whatever you need, Sire, you can count on me.¡±

    Coltair leaned back and steepled his fingers, conspiratorially tapping his lips with his thumbs. He¡¯d chosen his man well; loyalty and enthusiasm sparked in Izik¡¯s eyes.

    For his part, Izik knew he¡¯d made a deal with the devil, but it was the best deal he could ever have imagined.

 Chapter 14

    When Zephen didn¡¯t return after six months, Coltair did feel a small sense of loss. Despite the hard approach to his own life, after sixty-five years, he¡¯d only ever counted one person as his family and that had been his younger brother. He had been strict with him, but only because, as second-born, Zephen would inherit none of the responsibility or destiny that was reserved for Coltair. He¡¯d not only have to worry about the ascension but also the heirs, the crown and, finally, the gift. After becoming emperor, he¡¯d grown resentful that Zephen hadn¡¯t realized his privileges came at Coltair¡¯s sacrifice and that his brother hadn¡¯t grown any more serious or trustworthy for him to share in the intricate details of the ancestors¡¯ plans.  His brother was too tender-hearted for the sacrifices required, so he¡¯d cut him out and kept him apart to not interfere; it was best he did not know until the end.

    To be immortal, that was what the voices had enamoured him with all those years ago. First, it had required he master the art to interpret the undead, learn their ways, and that had required an enormous amount of personal sacrifice. The voices had been unyielding about harbouring relationships, getting too close to people, that it would ultimately interfere with what he needed to do to ascend, not as emperor of Rogun but as the immortal Keeper of the Darkness Realm. Affection created emotion. Affiliation created bonds. In order to break the barrier of the veil, at that moment, he would need to unquestionably sacrifice every living thing around him so that he could survive. Afterward, he would be the Emperor Everlasting and he could do whatever he might want. Live among the living was what he envisioned, unable to die, with all that remained of his people, forever superior to any and all mankind.

    With that firmly etched in his mind, Coltair had given up on all questions or evaluation of what they had offered. At ten years old, he knew his father feared death to manic levels. Born to a line of ever-evolving rulers, you were raised to expect your father¡¯s death was imminent and your son''s ascension inevitable. You grew up and lived in the constant knowledge that you were just waiting for those two things to happen. So Coltair¡¯s father didn¡¯t have affection for his firstborn son; he feared him as the sign of his own mortality that he was.

    Coltair didn¡¯t care about death, even before he¡¯d heard the ancestors¡¯ offer. He had been raised to the ¡®ways of things¡¯ and, as the heir, was pampered and elevated above his brothers and sisters to believe in his superiority, warping his sense of morality and mortality early on.  It was only after his father finally died that his true life could begin. But then the ancestors had told him of the true ascension, the ultimate pinnacle of leadership and control. Never again would he need fear a child could usurp him or an enemy assassin end his reign.

    At the last stair down to the crypt, Coltair slowed. The whispers met him like old comforts and the cold hung around his ankles like an invisible fog. He was content here, at peace. It was like coming home. What gave him pause was the groaning coming from inside the vault. He listened carefully, walking lightly to make no noise. Mostly it was long moaning, but occasionally, he could glean a word.

    ¡°Coltair!¡± he heard a gravelly voice bark from the opposite side of the door. ¡°Immortal Keeper!¡±

    He smiled and laid his hands gently against the polished surface so he could lean with his ear very close.

    ¡°Coltair!... Father! Protector! I will love him. I will love him forever!¡±

    Coltair smiled in satisfaction. He tapped the door lightly with pride and turned to leave. He¡¯d find Izik and order him to send the blind maids to change and bathe Dascus: a reward for his good behaviour by listening to the ancestors and letting them in.

    ---

    Dascus could not tell how long he¡¯d been imprisoned in complete darkness. All he knew was it was long enough to fray the edges of his mind. At random intervals, someone opened the door but did not bring light. Faint illumination from somewhere else lit the visitors'' path when they entered and the bronze door would remain open for the duration of their stay. He breathed the new, disturbed air like he¡¯d been about to die of asphyxiation, but he¡¯d never been able to run as he was continuously tied to an iron ring in the wall. The visitor would feed him broth and water, give him bread and one fruit, move his hands from front to back so they would alternate and walk him around the room two times. Then he would be re-bound. A servant with milk-white eyes would come to change the loincloth that was the only thing he was allowed to wear, soiled as he was not afforded a bucket, and she would wash him.

    He wept. It was an indignity he could not have imagined. In addition, he was weakened by starvation and the instant violent beating he would receive if he resisted. He¡¯d stopped long ago any and all reaction in hopes of hiding from his nightmare. He stood there dumbly, weakly, while she wiped him and inhaled sharply when the caustic soap burned the rash-torn skin of his genitals.

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    He barely noticed when a robe was layered over his shoulders and pulled tight at the waist with a rope. He became more aware when someone pulled on his chain-bound shackles and wrists.

    ¡°Come,¡± a gruff voice he did not recognize grunted at him. The chain tugged a few more times. Dascus moved with shuffling bare feet. Gradually, he was pulled from the room and doubt congealed in his core, gripping him in instant fear.

    The plush room he was moved to did little to calm his anxiety. He was unchained and left to stand in the middle of the opulent suite alone.

    When the door closed, he looked around. Seeing nothing that he wanted, he sat slowly in the middle of the floor, cross-legged on an oddly fluffy rug. The wind billowed the curtains at the windows, bringing to mind watching them as a child.

    A short time later, the door opened again and a band of young women arrived with baskets in their arms. An old man he thought he recognized and a woman who had been his former governess followed after them. He noticed the guards outside the door before they pulled it closed behind them.

    The man came to a stop before him, his expression dark and unimpressed.

    ¡°These women will prepare you,¡± he said coldly. ¡°Izik will come to collect you and explain things. Remember the ones who were kind to you¡­ Majesty,¡± he added.

    Dascus lifted his head, narrowing his eyes at him.

    The valet left for another room, lighting the braziers along the way.

    It took some convincing. Dascus was in no mood to cooperate, but finally, with the valet¡¯s persistent nagging and huffing and Sala¡¯s gentle concern, he was moved to the bathroom and into a sweet-smelling bath. After an hour, he had no more beard and his hair was back to a respectable length. The valet appeared with a very dark blue, airy pants and long chemise, edged in gold and he helped him into it. Still weak and unsteady on his legs, he stumbled a few times, but the valet kept his comments to himself.

    At the conclusion, the gaggle of servants left him, Sala also, but she¡¯d patted his hand and genuinely wished him well. The valet stayed behind. He stood with him, in the middle of the room again, but Dascus, tired after only a moment, helped himself to sit in an oversized divan facing the door.

    ¡°What am I doing?¡± he grumbled, almost tired enough to just lean to the side and sleep. After not having regular exercise, light, food and fresh air, an evening ¡®re-emerged¡¯ had exhausted him. ¡°What does Coltair want now?¡±

    The valet cleared his throat but remained straight behind him. A long moment passed and Dascus¡¯s eyes drooped, but the valet touched his shoulder once. Gently.

    ¡°The chief commander comes to deliver the news of succession, Exalted One,¡± he said barely above a whisper. ¡°It would be wise to appear strong at this moment,¡± he added.

    Dascus turned sharply to see him, but the man¡¯s eyes were on the door. He shook his head once and resettled his shoulders, his hands clasped firmly in front of him and clearly not about to speak anymore.

    The door did open then and Dascus, still settling the valet¡¯s words, turned to see the new visitor. Izik stormed in, followed by no less than ten lavishly dressed men of varying ages. Izik, for his part, looked angry and dangerous.

    ¡°He¡¯s here,¡± he barked and threw a hand at him. ¡°As promised, in good condition. The emperor certainly did not lie to anyone. The heir has been at the palace all along.¡±

    Dascus eyed the other men, gradually beginning to understand that something important had happened.

    One by one, the men moved closer until they formed a crescent shape in front of him. They bowed in unison.

    ¡°Prince Dascus,¡± the oldest said, ¡°we regret we were not informed of your return, else we would have greeted you properly,¡± he added with an air that it mattered at this point.

    ¡°Held captive in a windowless room for¡­ how many days, months, years, Izik?¡± Dascus asked him and the ten men turned to look at the scarred commander with shock and audible gasps. ¡°I can only imagine a visit would have been difficult. I did not want your attention. I wanted to see my mother and my sister again,¡± he told them.

    They turned back toward him. Izik had only crossed his arms and rolled his eyes at them. He was unafraid and unperturbed by their positions or pageantry.

    ¡°We will get to the bottom of this, Your Highness!¡± the eldest promised him.

    ¡°What do you want? What has happened?¡± he asked, irritation filling his voice. Clearly, their attention at this time had been prompted by something urgent. The valet had indicated something significant had occurred and he was fast growing impatient.

    The eldest once again took the lead and approached him. He prostrated himself on the floor before him and held out a piece of paper for him to take. Dascus reached and took it, but as soon as it was safely in his fingers, the remaining nine prostrated themselves the same as the first.

    Feeling awkward at the display, Dascus said nothing but pulled open the small sheet of rolled paper to read. Scrawled in clear, smooth lettering were the words of the emperor:

    ¡°I, Coltair, Emperor of Rogun, do declare Dascus, my third son from my second wife, as my legal heir. Upon my death shall he rule absolute and without opposition.¡±

    Below was the verified signature of Coltair himself, along with a wax seal with an elaborate signet melted into it.

    Dascus looked up. The only face that was looking at him was Izik¡¯s.

    The chief commander frowned and pushed from the wall where he¡¯d been leaning.

    ¡°His Exalted Highness died last night,¡± he told him, anger burning in his voice. ¡°That was found in his hand; it has been verified. You¡¯re the new emperor, you worthless git. Congratulations!¡±

    He turned and left the room, slamming the door behind him.

 Chapter 15

    Dascus fidgeted in his seat. The heat irritated his skin. He hated the sunlight and the sticky air bothered him every second he was outside. But he would not have missed this visit for the world. He stood up from the open-aired divan on the balcony to seek solace in the coolness of his parlour.

    The last five years of his life had been hell. Captured for the simple act of wanting to see his mother and sister again and imprisoned for being ¡®gifted¡¯ a horrific talent he could neither ignore nor escape. The ancestors had done their best to prepare him while he¡¯d been locked away in their vault. Five months he¡¯d spent in the black. When he¡¯d finally surrendered to them and learned to obey and open himself full time to their influence and invasion, they¡¯d backed off and given him a reprieve. He¡¯d discovered it was because they¡¯d agreed he was ready to assume the place they¡¯d prepared for him¡ªthe face of Rogun on the throne.

    They¡¯d suffocated Coltair through the bond that very same night. Fooling his mind to think he¡¯d been choking, the emperor had scrawled his instructions for succession, signed it, applied his signet and then died at his desk. His aide had found him.

    Dascus thanked the winds for that because Izik took every opportunity to remind him that had it been Dascus, he¡¯d have gutted him, no matter what the ancestors would say.

    Since then, once reunited with his beloved master in the crypts, Izik had calmed down some. A unusual exception, Coltair had convinced the ancestors to grant him access to hear him and now both Izik and Dascus served the emperor.

    Izik begrudgingly put up with Dascus after Coltair assured him his presence was necessary and, in turn, promised that no royal advisor would take Zephen¡¯s place; Izik himself would control the young emperor.

    Zephen was still missing after escorting his sister to Elutia. Dascus had mourned his step-uncle and regretted ever approaching him. He believed the subsequent events since their meeting were his fault. Had he stayed away, Zephen and even Coltair would likely still be alive and he would know nothing of such betrayal, wickedness and pain.

    He shifted again in his overstuffed chair, hating the soft cushions and the fabrics. Everything grated his nerves. The ancestors nattered constantly in his ears, blathering about dominance, power, things he had cared nothing about and still didn¡¯t.

    The door opened and Mogu appeared, his face calm and superior. He bowed low.

    ¡°My Emperor, the Royal Mother of Orak¡¯Thune, Lady Kara,¡± he said and waited. Dascus stopped breathing.

    Kara, his childhood fantasy and only friend he could reliably recall, swept into the room on silent feet. Her expression was polite but cautious as she moved to stand before him. She smiled wide and curtsied very low.

    ¡°Emperor Dascus,¡± she said, her voice a pleasant chime in the air.

    Dascus stood quickly. ¡°Leave us,¡± he said sharply and Mogu turned, dipped his head once and vacated the room. He turned back to her, a smile warming his face. It felt odd.

    Kara¡¯s eyes roamed all around him. She looked well, flushed cheeks and shining hair, and she was finely dressed but not ostentatiously like the women of his court. Her expression was easy, her jewellery sparkling when she moved her hands and her eyes dancing in the morning light.

    ¡°You look well,¡± she said in an enthusiastic welcome and laughed once, clearly happy to see him.

    His smile widened.

    ¡°As well as I can be,¡± he said, choosing to hover around the truth. ¡°I didn¡¯t want this, by the way. It turns out my mother had sent me to Riverbrook for a very good reason. I was wrong to return.¡±

    Kara¡¯s expression fell. She moved and took one of his hands, her skin warm silk against his own.

    ¡°I have always loved you, Dascus, and despite what that definition means to different people, that doesn¡¯t mean I ever would have left you here if I had known.¡±

    He half-smiled but squeezed her hand. He lifted the other and indicated she should sit in the closest chair to his. She nodded and took it gratefully.

    ¡°What happened?¡± she asked him quietly and leaned closer.

    Dascus retook his own seat with a loud huff and pulled his vest forward with a tug. ¡°I was trapped here. I came to find my mother, as you remember, and Coltair imprisoned me after I¡¯d found out she was dead by his hand and tried to leave. I was his heir; he wanted me right where I was. My mother¡¯s marriage and his adopting me trapped me here. It was preordained, Kara, since I was two. Go figure,¡± he added with a dismissive huff.

    ¡°But he had another son?¡± she inquired.

    Dascus shrugged, his hands resting open and wide on the extended version of the sofa he was occupying. ¡°And daughters. It''s the law of succession, Kara. The eldest male is always the heir. To illustrate; that son you have heard about? He¡¯s more royal blood than I am, but someone hid Vail or killed him after I was found. Now he¡¯s the boy lost and I¡¯m the evil emperor who hates Orak¡¯Thune and all the world for treating us as second-class citizens.¡±

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    Kara started to laugh, but she stilled when Dascus didn¡¯t join her.

    ¡°You don¡¯t, do you?¡± she asked.

    When he didn¡¯t respond, her head tilted to one side and it was lovely to see her hair sweep the bare porcelain of her perfect neck and shoulder.

    ¡°Dascus, do you?¡± she pushed.

    His eyes squinted a tiny bit. ¡°Hate Orak¡¯Thune, you mean?¡± he filled in.

    She bit her lip and he felt a warmth to his cheeks.

    ¡°That depends,¡± he said, still eyeing her carefully.

    Kara waved a dismissive hand between them and sat back, moving to fidget with the long sheer scarf she wore around her shoulders. Her outfit was a fetching turquoise and beige and offset her auburn hair like fire and water.

    ¡°Seriously though, Coltair sowed that rancour long ago, Kara,¡± he told her somewhat apologetically. ¡°I don¡¯t have that control here. His plans and treaties will outlive both of us. I try what I can to keep hostilities to a minimum, but I¡¯m not the popular voice; let¡¯s be clear.¡±

    ¡°But you¡¯re emperor!¡± Kara replied in surprise.

    Dascus laughed humourlessly. ¡°Yes, but ceding his power was never his real plan, love,¡± he told her vaguely. ¡°But enough of that now. You did not come all this way to settle the world''s affairs. How are you? How is your new life? I hear you have two babies now; how exciting,¡± he said, trying to add as much warmth and sincerity as he could muster.

    Kara smiled wide to change the subject. It relaxed him a little, but he braced himself for the story and emotion he knew would wound him deeper than any injustice done to him so far.

    ¡°I have a son and a daughter,¡± she told him proudly. ¡°Patrick is nearly seven and Nyssa is almost five.¡±

    He nodded. ¡°Congratulations, Mother Kara,¡± he told her.

    She sighed happily and reached for his hand to grab and hold. ¡°I miss our days in the woods, Dascus,¡± she told him. ¡°Remember the walks, the long talks? You told me once you envisioned children of your own. A woman to walk with you like that for all the days of your life.¡±

    Dascus didn¡¯t really have social defences anymore. After so long living in a forced environment of constant deceit and insincerity, he was used to being cold and dismissive. He had no bonds, no relationships on Rogun that warmed him or fed his dreams and hopes for any future. He dreaded starting each day and prayed for death at every nightfall. Death did not greet him, but the undead did and the constant exhaustion and wear on his mind had numbed his emotions and senses. He felt little and expected less of his days.

    ¡°I meant you, Kara,¡± he said abruptly.

    Her smile faded a little. Sympathy clouded her features and he hated it.

    He stood fast and moved to stand near the window in the breeze so he could calm his heart. ¡°Why did you come?¡± he asked her without looking back. ¡°You knew this about us. Why would you think anything had changed?¡±

    ¡°I heard horrible things, Dascus,¡± she said.

    He turned to find her standing a few feet away, at the window with him. ¡°What things?¡±  he asked her, surprised.

    ¡°That you were unhappy and cruel, that you allowed your army to abuse and lord over your citizens and that you were indifferent to your people. That¡¯s not you, Dascus. Even if our countries are not friends, I counted you among mine. I would not if that were the truth and I came to see what I could do.¡±

    Dascus scowled. ¡°Lovely propaganda your loving husband feeds and breeds, Kara,¡± he growled at her.

    Kara frowned. ¡°Madras doesn¡¯t say these things; he avoids Rogun affairs as much as possible because the truth of the matter is, Coltair was a known sociopath. The world¡¯s leaders long ago dismissed his aggression and pursuit of dominance and power. I figured when he died and you ascended, things would change and new hope would emerge, relationships could be rebuilt and we could count Rogun among us for once!¡±

    Dascus wanted to believe what she said. That old part of himself had grown up in Riverbrook and lived ten years of his life as a carefree, hopeless romantic, just like his best friend standing beside him. She had taught him that change could always blossom. But darkness lived inside him now. A depth of despair he could not describe and the evil voices that plagued him would never let him go back there. They had plans for his and her world.

    ¡°You should go home, Kara,¡± he said and turned back to facing the window. Kara gasped. ¡°I mean it,¡± he added. ¡°I hear what you¡¯re saying and it¡¯s quaint but really not the truth. Rogun is a powerhouse and it will succeed in enforcing that. There is nothing your precious Orak¡¯Thune can do about that now. Coltair made sure his plans would succeed, in fact, his assurances stretch further than your king-husband can well imagine. That¡¯s all I can really say about that. It¡¯s not going to change either, not with my help.¡±

    Like-minded. Giver of gifts¡­

    Dascus, having just finished his last word, sharply inhaled at the whisper''s message.

    ¡°No!¡± he barked and gripped his hair at the temple. Kara, shocked, reached for him, but he wrenched away from her.

    Giver of gifts. Giver of gifts!

    Dascus groaned and moved to run from her, into the next room. Kara followed. She found him facing the corner, rocking a bit.

    ¡°Dascus,¡± she whispered in intense concern and moved closer. ¡°What is it? What is it that frightens you?!¡±

    He turned, his eyes squinted in pain. ¡°I hear them!¡± he shouted at her. ¡°I always hear them! I can¡¯t stop hearing them!¡±

    Kara had flinched at the volume of his voice but not backed off.

    ¡°Winds, Dascus,¡± she said in sympathy. ¡°My dear, please, let me help you!¡±

    Giver of gifts. Let the gift now be the giver. Let the Mother take our One!

    ¡°NO!¡± he screamed loudly and bent to collapse on his knees. He sobbed loudly.

    Kara, startled at the rapid change in his demeanour and, afraid for him, moved to stretch her hand and arms around his body. She cradled him and gently pulled him closer. She shushed and rocked him while he moaned and wept.

    Suddenly, he looked up at her, the rims of his eyes red and swollen, but they were crystal clear and wide with fear.

    ¡°You should leave. Today,¡± he said and, in one movement, moved to grab her arm, stand and start walking her to the door.

    ¡°But, Dascus! I came for a month. You know this!¡± she protested, but he shook his head and wrenched the door open. He handed her to a guard.

    ¡°See she gets on her ship and send it back to Orak¡¯Thune. Now!¡± he added and slammed it in both of their faces.

    The last he heard when his back was to the closed door was Kara screaming for him as she was dragged down the hallway. His heart broke a second time and it hurt just as much. This time, however, he knew he had done the last brave thing he might ever do. Kara could never be found within the ancestors'' clutches. If it killed him, and he did not doubt that one day it would, he would keep her away at all costs.

 Chapter 16

    Izik watched the insane bastard for another minute, but when it appeared nothing would change, he shoved off the doorframe and left his emperor to whine and rock by himself.

    Hopping up the short, near-vertical ladder, he was glad to be in the fresher air of the top deck. Dascus hated water, hated bathing even, so being cooped up on a small ship in the middle of the ocean didn''t improve the man¡¯s already unstable moods.

    ¡°We¡¯ll land a few hours west of the Port Town¡¯s harbour markers, Chief Commander,¡± the first mate told him when he approached. ¡°Small village there to tie up our longboats and fresh horses have been arranged. You should make the capital inside of two weeks, as ordered.¡±

    Izik nodded, already thinking of his plans for getting through the Orak¡¯Thune interior. He wasn¡¯t really worried about detection on the way in, but on the way out¡­

    A loud, crazed scream erupted from the lower decks. The sailors deck-side stopped, bewildered, some more than concerned, but their officers ushered them back to their duties.

    And then there was the freak accompanying them. Without Dascus, the royal mother would be more difficult to take. Getting caught here would not only assure they were executed, but that sort of failure would undoubtedly foil his master''s plan. Coltair heard and saw everything; being dead wouldn¡¯t hide or save them from anything.

    Izik knew his master waited in the darkness, in a place more sinister and far more reaching than just the afterlife¡ªColtair had been teaching him. Wherever he waited for the wheels of his plan to gain traction, Izik knew it was nowhere he wanted to be.

    The trip on the enemy¡¯s soil proved easier than he anticipated. Their arrangements for horses and provisions were met and without any delay, their party was mounted and travelling light, making excellent time.

    The countryside, cooler than his native home, was beautiful in the late spring. It was blissfully light on rain, provided plenty of forage for the horses and shelter for camping under the trees, off the road at night. If they weren¡¯t off to kidnap a royal, Izik might have considered this some sort of pleasant diplomatic retreat. He looked to Dascus, slumped over in his saddle, his cloak oversized and hanging over his emaciated frame.

    Izik felt no sympathy; he only laughed at him.

    Approaching the capital, Izik began to take precautions. The enormous academy, the Orak¡¯Thune¡¯s national institution for training its citizens into its world-famous fighting army, and their pride and joy, was located only five or so miles from the main city. The roads surrounding saw considerable military traffic.

    Dressed as Antarian noblemen, in brown and green cloaks and some bird as their insignia, no one took a closer look at them. Nonetheless, Izik barked at his men to ensure their weapons were well covered.

    Bael, a young brute from the streets where the Black Tower was known to recruit its most brutal enforcers, was along for his first ever mission. Blindly loyal to Izik, he was assigned the close watch of Dascus. He was to stick close to the hunched-over man, make sure his horse travelled straight and controlled and deter anyone from having too much interest in their ¡°sickly cousin.¡±

    Izik paid special attention to choosing their camp for the night. In a grove of trees just outside the walled city¡¯s grounds, he settled them in perfect view of the enormous main gate. Sending one of his most innocent-looking men to deliver a message to the palace on foot, he¡¯d now wait for Kara¡¯s response. If all went well, Kara herself would answer the summons. If not, they would see whoever else was coming and scatter into the dense woods.

    Izik settled to his cold supper and eyed the bent-over emperor. Dascus didn¡¯t eat. His food sat untouched beside him. If the alarm was sounded, Izik planned on abandoning him there. Kara wouldn¡¯t let her husband kill him and given his condition, anything he said would never be believed anyway.

    From what he knew of his master''s plan, so long as Dascus was left close enough and long enough in Kara¡¯s presence, it didn¡¯t matter if they succeeded in getting her to the ship and back to Rogun. Still, Izik would try because that¡¯s what Coltair wanted, but he¡¯d read between the lines.

    Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

    At dawn, Bael kicked his foot to wake him. Izik huffed, snorted and rolled from the tight hold of his bedroll to stretch and yawn. Light was just beginning to streak the sky and he was about to complain that they had little to do until the kid returned, but Bael pointed for him and it was obvious that he wasn¡¯t speaking for a reason.

    Izik heard shuffling of feet in the leaves. He gathered his cloak, readjusted his sword and stepped back into the shadows, away from Dascus, who sat just as he was when he¡¯d last looked at him the previous day.

    ¡°Dascus?¡± Kara called in surprise, recognizing him and breaking the hushed silence. She bolted from the man¡¯s side to fall on her knees in front of him and immediately pushed the hood back from his face.

    Izik watched them. She touched his cheek lightly and Izik could see Dascus¡¯s eyes on her in return. His lips moved constantly in a rolling motion, like he was wetting them. It was a twitch now, a sign of his weakening mind.

    ¡°Winds, what have they done to you?¡± she whispered fast, her expression anxious.

    ¡°If you don¡¯t come,¡± Dascus said woodenly, ¡°I will kill your children.¡±

    Kara froze. She blinked and her hands, determined and desperate before, stilled.

    ¡°Who will kill my children, Dascus?¡± she asked seriously. ¡°Because my friend would never hurt me or innocent children.¡±

    Dascus whimpered. For a moment, his eyes grew sad. Then suddenly, his expression changed to panic and fear. It was rare, but sometimes Dascus wrestled free and won the authority over his mind. It didn¡¯t last long. The reality of all that he was doing under their influence would awaken and bathe him in the horror of his worsening state. He was inconsolable, erratic and sometimes violent when free of their control. Izik tensed.

    ¡°If you don¡¯t come,¡± Dascus repeated, beginning to weep and rock. He kept his eyes firmly on hers. ¡°They will come and kill your children!¡±

    He burst into a scream then and grabbed his hair with both fists. He rocked violently and began pounding his temples. As he sobbed, great gobs of saliva hung from his lips and mixed with the tears and mucus from his nose. His eyes were once again lost to madness.

    Startled by his outburst, Kara fell backward, but she hurried forward once again to take him strongly against her.

    Despite Dascus punching her a few times, she held him until he calmed once more. Slowing his movements, she led him in a gentle, comforting rhythm, shushing him and humming the whole time.

    Izik was impressed. He signalled to Bael to gather the horses.

    He emerged from his tree trunk and casually approached them. Kara looked up fast and then all around when she noticed he wasn¡¯t alone.

    ¡°Peace, Lady Kara,¡± Izik told her amenably. ¡°We mean you no harm here.¡± He smiled. Dascus had started at the sound of his voice but resumed mumbling again.

    ¡°What have you done to him!¡± Kara barked. She continued to pet Dascus¡¯s hair and cheek, but her eyes were everywhere.

    Izik only shrugged and moved closer in slow, measured steps.

    ¡°Nothing at all,¡± he told her. ¡°He¡¯s a gifted man, it¡¯s true. I guess the gift is harder on some than others. But you can see why it was so important we came for you. His Highness insisted only you could help now. We, of course, came as quickly as his command was unveiled to us,¡± Izik explained. Kara softened just enough so that he felt confident to keep moving closer and smiled again.

    ¡°He said I could help him?¡± she asked.

    Izik nodded quickly. ¡°Oh, yes! Since Coltair¡¯s passing, our poor emperor has had terrible bouts with his father in his head. It would seem he has trouble shutting him out¡­ or something?¡± Izik left the question open, pretending he had no idea what troubled Dascus.

    Kara clucked her tongue and leaned more heavily to embrace her friend. ¡°Winds, Dascus!¡± she crooned, leaning protectively over him. ¡°It will be alright.¡±

    ¡°I know this is unconventional, but I am sure you can appreciate Roguns are not always so welcome waltzing up to the capital and demanding an audience with the royal mother,¡± Izik went on. ¡°We thank you for meeting us here on such short notice.¡±

    ¡°Yes, of course,¡± Kara replied dismissively. ¡°But I am not sure what I can do out here. You should have sent correspondence. I could have convinced my husband to let me see him, to help him, even on Rogun¡ªhe is the emperor! You didn¡¯t need to travel this way and risk his health and comfort.¡±

    Izik wanted to snort. Instead, he bowed slightly and opened both hands wide. ¡°Emperor¡¯s orders, my Lady,¡± he told her with mock innocence and sincerity.

    Kara huffed but looked back to Dascus. ¡°What can I do, my love? These whispers, are they anything like what we heard spoken off in Riverbrook when we were children? We can seek the Shepherd there if this is your ailment. Fear not, love, we will find a way,¡± she whispered fast and petted his face reassuringly, lifting it to search his eyes.

    She was so absorbed in them, she did not see Bael approach from behind with the white cloth soaked in the mysterious fainting chemical the imperial scientist had provided them.

    Dascus watched in muted, paralyzed fear as Izik bound Kara¡¯s hands and fixed a gag to her mouth. His mind registered the atrocity unfolding before him, but the ancestors had locked away his cognitive connection to his body again. He could no more scream than lift his arms to strangle Izik for touching her. All he could do was watch and live his life¡¯s unfolding nightmare.