Rosinanti: Rise of the Dragon Lord (Rosinanti Series Book 3) Page 27

  “You have located her then?”

  “Not just yet, but I can feel her power. The spells she has used to conceal herself are faltering. Within hours, I will have her exact location, and then she will be mine.”

  “Congratulations, Mistress. I know that finding the Harbinger has become a personal mission for you these many months.”

  She smiled in satisfaction. She had attacked an entire city, killed hundreds of people for the sole intent of her vengeance. And she would have it soon.

  “You know, of course, with the assault on Grassan having ended, the Shogai will undoubtedly come for you.”

  Aleksandra felt a chaotic thrill tingle her spine. Her subtle interactions with Valentean through the flesh of her demon horde had allowed her to gauge his mastery of the Goddess’s power. He had become strong, formidable, and, above all else, uncontrollable. This was good. Soon, he would come before her, driven by the bloodlust of the flames. He would come for her far too soon and woefully unprepared for such an encounter.

  “Let him come,” she purred, her fingers shaking with excitement as she envisioned wrapping them around Valentean’s throat.

  Striding over the bodies of his many demonic victims, Valentean Burai marched through the courtyard of the royal palace and up the stairs. He turned once to gaze down at the scene of brutality and decimation he had left in his wake. The remnants of his titanic battle went far beyond the mangled, crimson corpses that littered the ground. The entire courtyard had been upended throughout the course of his struggle with the Skirlack horde. Massive craters pockmarked the landscape, sections of the stone wall had been blown away, and fires still burned everywhere.

  With a gesture from his hand, every flame that crackled around the courtyard leapt toward him, compressing into a head-sized ball that hovered over The Rosintai’s palm. He regarded it coldly, the dancing blaze created from naught more than his will. He thought back to the blackened wick of that candle from so long ago, which Vahn had used to illustrate the finality of death. Valentean now found such memories ironic. With his power, he could keep any flame burning forever, or he could snuff it out at will.

  As if to illustrate his silent musing, Valentean closed his fist slowly and set his will upon the flames. The fire quivered and shook, trying desperately to continue its existence, but Valentean Burai was its master now. He decided when it blazed, and he decided when it ended. He noted how just before the flaming ball fully died, it flickered brighter than ever. That last desperate flail for existence. Aleksandra’s flame was burning brightly now. Was it too in its final death throes?

  As he moved inside the castle, winding his way up toward the king’s throne room, Valentean continued to think about his own strength. Was he a match for her now? Could he feasibly challenge her? The inferno that had burst forth from his heart in the Karminian arena leapt at the thought, filling him with confidence. He was stronger now. He could do it. All that was left was to get there.

  Sera, I’m coming for you.

  As he approached the tower’s central chamber, it struck Valentean that he had not seen anyone else in the normally busy hallways. It seemed odd despite the battle. Then, he saw the bolted doors of the throne room come into view, and he quickened his pace, throwing them open with both hands.

  The throne room was equally empty save for Maura and Nahzarro on the opposite side of the bare room, both kneeling on the floor over something. They had not looked up as he opened the doors and entered. As he approached, Valentean could see the floor around Matias’s throne had shifted and seemed to open, leading down into some secret chamber. As he looked toward his allies to question this, he noticed the bundle that they crouched around. It was thin, like a skeleton with flesh. Loose skin hung from bone along the eyes and up to its hollow face. The dead body’s mouth hung open, its eyes wide, staring at nothing at all. It was only the bushy beard that gave away the unrecognizable corpse’s identity.

  Valentean’s heart clenched, and he walked forward with renewed intent. As he approached, he could hear Nahzarro and Maura sobbing. Maura’s red eyes rose to regard him sadly. As he reached the body, Valentean looked down, mouth agape in shock. This was his father’s friend. This was his friend. A man who had taken him in when he felt the world would shun him. This monarch had shown him such incredible kindness, had dedicated his life to Valentean's cause as a member of the Collective of Light. He knew that grief should be gripping his heart, tears should spill from his eyes, and sobs should be breaking through his lips. So…why weren’t they?

  He felt hollow as he looked down upon the king. He felt nothing as he stared down at Maura and Nahzarro while they grieved together. All he could do was take a deep breath and lock eyes with Maura.

  “How?” This simple question was all he could mutter in the moment.

  “He sacrificed himself using…some ancient Grassani weapon and—”

  The sound of a gasp coming from the other end of the room drew Valentean’s attention. The hunched, ancient, robed Minister Khara, who had initially brought them before Matias, stood at the entryway, bony fingers clasped to her lips. She rushed forward, and her approach was enough to cause Nahzarro to gaze up from the lifeless body that had at one time been his father.

  The old woman wrapped her arms around the prince, pulling him close against her heart as she sobbed.

  “Grandmother,” Nahzarro’s distraught, muffled voice sounded from within the embrace of the minister’s robes, “he’s gone… He’s really gone.”

  Valentean backed away from the private family moment. He felt like an intruder, and his lack of reaction was beginning to feel even more out of place in the midst of this emotional outpouring. He walked several paces away until he heard hurried footsteps rushing after him. He could sense Maura’s approach and slowed his walk to allow her to catch up.

  “Things here were…pretty rough,” she said, looking down at the floor as she fell in step beside him.

  “So it would seem.”

  She raised an eyebrow at the response but must have decided not to question it. “How did things go in Karminia?”

  “Emperor McNeil will be lending us the full wrath of the Imperial Army to aid in our invasion of Aleksandrya.”

  Maura stopped. “Emperor McNeil?” She sounded aghast. Valentean stopped and turned back to her. “Please tell me you didn’t assassinate the Karminian Emperor.”

  “I was attacked, Maura.”

  “Attacked?”

  “Zouka was there. They trapped me in an arena and made me fight him for the emperor’s amusement.”

  “Did you kill Zouka?”

  “No.”

  “He got away?”

  “No.”

  “So you…let him go?”

  “There were extenuating circumstances. He knows he was in a fight though.”

  “Valentean, you…look different.”

  “I’m still me, Maura.”

  “Aurax told us.”

  There was silence. Valentean took her in with unblinking eyes. “Told you what?”

  “The chaos…it has control of you.”

  He took a step toward her, red flashing along his eyes. She took a step back as Valentean’s lip curled into a snarl.

  “The chaos does not control me, Maura. I control it!”

  She swallowed audibly and looked into his eyes. Valentean noted a subtle quaking in her limbs. She was terrified of him. He felt his expression soften. He reached out to take her by the shoulder, and she recoiled from him in fear, her hands moving toward her belt, fingers brushing instinctively against the hilt of her daggers. The crimson flame died from Valentean’s stare as a wave of disappointment and revulsion struck his heart.

  Maura was his best friend, and she was…scared of him. She was ready to attack him when all he had been trying to do was offer her a reassuring pat on the shoulder. For an instant, he was upset, sad even. Had he crossed some threshold? Was he twisted? Unrecognizable to someone with whom he had been through so very much? Maybe
she was right. Maybe the chaos was controlling him. Maybe he should do something to expunge it from his soul before it was too late.

  Then a small voice within a dark corner of his mind whispered to him that this line of thought was absurd. He was master of the blaze. It held no sway over him. She had simply sensed his incredible power and his willingness to now use it against their enemies. And the fact that she had recoiled from him in that instant marked her as a coward. His nostrils flared as the chaos chewed upon his soul, flooding him with disgust and offense at Maura’s actions.

  Just as he opened his mouth to retort back at her, the sound of the throne room door opening once more drew his attention. Nevick stood with the Duzel brothers flanking him on either side. He was still adorned in rags and gaped open-mouthed at the scene of tragedy unfolding across the room. The three of them dashed past Valentean and Maura, rushing to the king’s body. Maura seemed to take that as her cue to leave, turning and marching back toward their gathered comrades. Valentean could hear Maura begin to explain the series of events that had claimed the king’s life, but the chaos was too hot in his blood now to focus.

  Instead, the crimson-clad animus warrior stalked to one of the curved walls of the circular room to gaze out over the decimated landscape. The airships had cut a swath of destruction through the city, not entirely unlike the scars of smoldering wreckage Kayden had carved into Kackritta. Valentean gazed out at the mountain range that separated Grassan from his homeland. Reaching out with his feelings, Valentean once again attempted to sense Seraphina’s energy, calling out to her over the great distance.

  To his frustration, her power was still hidden from him. The faintest echo could be detected, but it was far off, scarcely a whisper. And what added to Valentean’s frustrated ire was that her energy seemed to be intertwined with the cold darkness of Kayden’s power. That’s a long time to be so…close, isn’t it? The voice that spoke in his head was his own, but it carried within it the smoldering fury of chaos.

  Kayden’s uncomfortable proximity to Seraphina only grated on his raw nerves further. They had clashed. He clearly sensed it while locked within the battle arena in Karminia, but there was no longer any conflict. Who had won? What was going on just beyond those mountains? It was a maddening, horrifying feeling of helplessness that ate him alive as the sun vanished behind the mountains, casting darkness over the sky.

  Nevick stared down into the dull, lifeless eyes of what had once been a proud, strong, kind-hearted man whom he respected. Now he was gone, and all that was left was a thin, hollowed-out husk that only vaguely resembled the man he remembered. Though he had not known Matias for long, the king had shown him that not all royalty should be mistrusted. Not all nobility sought to dominate the weak. Nevick felt his lip trembling and fought to maintain his composure. He silently thanked the old man for teaching him such a valuable lesson and vowed he would never forget the example set here on this day.

  He heard Maura’s explanation through a haze of emotion. His eyes moved toward Nahzarro, who crouched beside the old woman and wept along with her over their fallen family member. A king had died, and a kingdom had lived. He thought back to Casid, about how he still drew breath while the home and the people he had once loved had been incinerated by the flames of chaos. Matias had succeeded where Nevick had failed. He vowed to do better in the battle to come.

  “And then we carried him back up the stairs,” Maura said in a dull half-whisper, which could still be heard over the prince’s sobs. “This is as far as we got him.”

  Nevick shook his head and looked to the side where he noticed Valentean standing far off, gazing out the window, paying attention to anything and everything but this heartfelt moment being shared amongst friends.

  “Hey, Valentean,” he called out.

  The animus warrior’s eyes snapped toward him as though he had believed himself to be alone in the room all this time and was shocked to discover their presence. He turned with a flourish of his long coat and began to walk back toward the throne platform.

  Nevick walked out to meet him until they were face to face. “What happened in Karminia?”

  “Emperor Tek betrayed me just like you said he would.” He sneered at the memory. “He’s gone now.”

  Nevick nearly keeled over in shock. “You…killed Emperor Tek?”

  “Don’t look so shocked.”

  “How could I not be?”

  “You disapprove?”

  “No…I mean…I don’t know. That’s just kind of severe for you, isn’t it?”

  “I did what I had to do to stay alive and get back here. You should be thanking me.”

  “Thanking you?”

  “Yes. It was Tek who sent those mercenaries into Casid. So, in a way, I avenged your people for you.”

  Nevick’s blood boiled at the way Valentean had said that. He was speaking down to him as though Nevick were naught more than a child. As though he were incapable of avenging his own family and needed the all-powerful Rosintai to step in. “I’m not a fan of your tone, Valentean.”

  “I’m sorry you feel that way.”

  “What is happening to you?”

  “I’m winning this war is what’s happening.”

  “A man…your friend…is dead over there. Can’t you say anything to Nahzarro?”

  Valentean’s eyes shifted uncomfortably toward the grieving prince. “Maura has it covered.”

  “The Valentean that I know—”

  “Was weak!” His voice echoed at the barking shout, reverberating through the open chamber. Every living eye in the throne room turned to stare at them. “The Valentean that you know was beaten and battered while trying to play fair and do things the right way! The Valentean you know doesn’t have the strength to do the things that I’ve done here today! If I were the Valentean that you knew, you’d be dead right now!”

  Nevick’s jaw tightened, his fingers curling into a fist at his side. He imagined for the first time ever caving in the face of his friend with one meaty blow. The glow in Valentean’s eyes began to burn hotter and brighter as if he sensed a physical confrontation —as if he wanted one.

  Before either warrior could make a move, their attention was drawn by the sound of the large, bolted doors of the chamber flying open. Their faces turned to see McNeil stride confidently into the room. The whites of his animus robes had been replaced by a regal, green tunic with black accents, boots, and gloves. At his side remained the same long, curved sword as before. Upon his head, he wore a pointed, emerald-colored crown, decorated in black. Flanking him to his left and right were two extremely tall individuals. One was a man, towering and gangly, wearing black robes and a white apron stained red with old blood. The other was perhaps the largest woman Nevick had ever seen. She was armored with a long, dangerous-looking blade sheathed on her hip.

  “I hope I’m not interrupting anything,” the new Karminian Emperor said with a smirk as he advanced into the throne room as though he owned it.

  XXII: The Good Inside

  Kayden’s touch sent icy tendrils of dark hate tingling through Seraphina’s body. She tried to grab at anything—his face, his arm, the fingers that tightened along the side of her throat—but each time, her hands ineffectually passed through him as though she were a ghost.

  “Is this what you wanted me to see, Princess?” Kayden screamed to her, his face contorted with the strain of rage and anguish. “Is this what you wanted to prove? That I’m a gullible weakling like all the rest of your precious humanity? Well, Seraphina, you’re going to pay dearly for that!” The dragon above loomed closer, appearing impossibly massive. Its face filled the sky; the whole of Kackritta Castle could have fit in one immense, purple eye. Then, it spoke, and its voice rumbled the entire Dreamscape.

  “Kiiiiiiillllll herrrrr,” came its droning, gravelly bass. Kayden’s eyes narrowed at its words as though he were preparing himself to carry out its command. As Kayden cocked one fist back, the world around them melted away and resolidified as a bare
stone room in the healing wing of Kackritta Castle.

  In his shock, Kayden dropped the princess, who crumpled to the floor in a heap. Seraphina attempted to crawl away, but Kayden slammed his boot down between her shoulder blades, pinning her in place. A bed appeared through the haze, and Seraphina saw a bruised and bandaged adult Kayden lying there alone, seemingly forgotten by the world. He moved slowly as if every involuntary muscle twitch caused him pain. This could only be one thing: the time period between Valentean’s tournament victory and their departure for Lazman.

  She felt a little extra pressure from Kayden’s boot upon her spine as he too must have realized what they were witnessing.

  “What?” he exclaimed in frustration and anger. “Why?” The door to the chamber flew open, and Aleksandra quietly walked inside, moving with practiced poise. Both Kayden and Seraphina followed the memory of the princess-turned-empress as she stood beside the specter of her wounded animus.

  “How do you fare?” Aleksandra asked, staring down the bridge of her nose.

  “I failed you, my lady,” Kayden replied, his voice a choked whisper of pain. “I broke my vow.”

  “Nonsense, Kayden. My life was in no danger; you did not fail in defending me. Your oath remains intact.”

  “Not my oath…my vow.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “All those years ago…I promised you that I would become the strongest animus warrior who ever lived. Strong enough to crush the bones of the ancient Rosinanti when they rise again.”

  “I recall.”

  “I broke that vow.”

  “You need not concern yourself with such things, Kayden. It matters not to me.”

  “It…doesn’t?” The room filled with blossoming hope. Seraphina could tell that Kayden was feeling a twinge of relief. His princess was absolving him of his failure, telling him that his loss diminished him not one iota in her mind.