by Sela Croft
I must have faded into unconsciousness, as I awoke to a voice. A dark presence filled the greenhouse, but no one had entered. My skin crawled, and bile rose in my throat at the sound. The ghostly tone permeated the room, bringing vileness with it.
In an instant, I recognized Alban’s hideous voice, sickened that it invaded my private space. The connection we had to each other appalled me. I’d first noticed it as a child, and figured out that it was a father/daughter bond.
It was despicable that I was of Alban’s blood, and that I couldn’t sever the link. I had learned to control it and had the ability to block access. The only way the king could intrude into my thoughts was if I created a connection first.
It only worked with me, not Draven. It had to do with the visions I was prone to, and my skill at premonition. The king hadn’t had need of the connection often. After I left the palace, it had rarely happened.
I’d taken care not to be a conduit, because I was repulsed by the bond with evil. Yet it could still happen. I’d remembered the past and, in doing so, called up the demon. By embracing the memories of my life at the palace, I’d left myself open.
Alban’s chilling presence surrounded me like an evil spirit, and his conversation infiltrated my thoughts. He was communicating to me directly, but from a distance.
Once the communication had begun, I didn’t have the power to shut him out. The king would speak to me whether I wanted him to or not. I could decide whether to answer, but that didn’t seem to matter.
Alban spoke, the reverberations like those of a disembodied soul. The words came out slowly, in a sonorous tone. His presence was hideous. Yet I had no choice but to listen.
“I see that you have not forgotten me,” Alban said.
“How could I? You’ve wrought terror and death throughout the kingdom without pause.”
I should be afraid, but I couldn’t find it in my heart to be so. After being haunted by the king throughout my life, I failed to feel anything but disgust for him.
For a moment, I didn’t hear any more, but his presence hung in the air like a black cloud. I doubted that he didn’t know what to say to me; it was more that he was relishing my discomfort.
“I am head of the royal family. You are my daughter,” Alban said. “You have mistreated me, dishonored your own father.”
“I don’t consider you my father any longer,” I said. “Your hatred for all that lives has caused me to abandon my lineage.”
“That is where you are wrong.” Alban was silent for a breath. “I hate only that which defies tradition. I am the monarchy. It is everything I stand for, the only thing worth fighting for.”
“You’re a murderer.”
“I don’t see it that way,” Alban said. “Death is needed to maintain control. If others gained power, then the kingdom would be threatened. What I have left, what you have, is the monarchy that controls this realm. That deserves respect, so should be granted the authority it has earned.”
“The truth is that you don’t want to lose control. You’re just describing it in fancier terms. But it’s still destruction, no matter how you cloak it.”
“The weak must be barred from taking over.” Alban’s voice bit into me. “It’s vital to adhere to the old ways that have served us well.”
“Tradition is no longer valid,” I said. “The realm has changed. The races who inhabit the kingdom will no longer stand for death at your whim. They value immortality and will fight for it.”
“That is because Draven has spread propaganda. He’s turned my subjects against me,” Alban said. “He has betrayed his own father. Yet there is nobility in what I do. What justification can there be for my son’s actions?”
“Justification?” I couldn’t believe my own ears. “You have the arrogance to ask a question like that? All his young life, my brother suffered torture at your hands. He was abused by his own father.” I took a breath. “He does not accept you as father, blood or not.”
“Draven is weak. I did him a favor, for which he will eventually thank me,” Alban said. “He was born human, but I thought my blood would cure that. Yet he shows a lack of strength, and balks at what must be done.”
“And you were unable to torture it out of him,” I said. “That’s why you’re so incensed.”
“You think you know all, but you don’t,” Alban said. “My rule has kept this kingdom together. It is Draven who is tearing it apart. If he experienced rough treatment, I did so to toughen him up. But at that, I failed. He is vulnerable to his human side…and that will be his undoing.”
The air cleared and I was able to breathe again. The instant Alban withdrew, I blocked my memories of him. I’d have to steel myself not to make the connection available. I’d despised conversing with him. But I wasn’t deceived. His purpose in spouting his lies was to get to Draven through me.
It wouldn’t work. Over the centuries, the king had revealed his true nature. He fought for doom, supported death. And he’d declared war against immortality. In his insanity, he viewed the kingdom through a perverted mind, and fought to salvage a failing monarchy. But he must not be allowed to win.
Draven’s humanness made him strong, yet I doubted that Alban would admit that—even when the death he craved reached out to take him. I reflected on the prophecy that foretold of a better kingdom—snatched from death’s grip—and prayed that it would come true.
CHAPTER 42 - SELENE
I’d just departed from the dark leader’s castle when a message from the king was delivered to me. I supposed that he’d finished his magic practice session, because he’d ordered my attendance at the palace. The estate wouldn’t be emanating energy, since he had an eye toward guests. If I’d held to propriety, I would have refused based on his lack of manners.
But Alban had his own method of dealing with others, and etiquette played no part in it. He did not invite or consult, only commanded. I let the rudeness go, as I was interested in what he had on his mind. Flattery from the king was not involved, as his lack of respect was the norm in our relationship.
In my own good time, I teleported to the mountain. If Alban wanted to speak to me, then he could wait. I preferred not to appear anxious to cater to his wishes, lest he perceive weakness. Far too easily, he took the role of hunter after prey.
Only by maintaining my distance could I hope to avoid being under Alban’s control. As it was, he was deluded in thinking that he could command me.
I wouldn’t be the one to tell Alban, but he wasn’t all-powerful like he portrayed. After all, he lobbied for my support, knowing that my skill was useful. Yet he wouldn’t admit any need, not for anyone, or anything—with the exception of his son.
The message had conveyed that I was granted an audience with the king—a clever setup for the meeting. It implied that I wished to see him, and not the other way around. He intended to gain the upper hand from the start. But I’d been through this before, so wasn’t deceived.
I arrived at the palace to find it unchanged. The place wasn’t any brighter, and Alban loathed decorating. It was a morbid residence at best, and those in his service slunk around the halls like ghosts, hoping to avoid their master.
Servants were sparse, but I didn’t require assistance to locate Alban. His stench permeated the place, making him easy to track. I was curious to learn what he wanted of me. He had a way of asking that wasn’t asking at all. I wasn’t in a gracious mood, so he’d need to dig deep for some semblance of politeness.
Uncharacteristically, Alban wasn’t in his throne room, busy instilling terror into the hearts of his staff. I found him in a massive hall that he called the religious room. That was a misnomer, as the king worshipped no one but himself. But the ornate room was likely the nicest in the palace.
It seemed that he needed at least one room where he could entertain guests. The floors were polished marble, black with white streaks, and the interior was the size of a ballroom. Black velvet curtains hung from floor to ceiling over elegant stained-glass w
indows.
There was a long golden table with matching chairs, padded with white velvet cushions. It would seem that whatever deity Alban planned to entertain might want to sit down. There were crystal chandeliers hanging from the high ceilings with a pattern of clear crystals and black onyx.
I’d been to the room only once before. My visits hadn’t called for any pomp or ceremony, so I was suspicious about why he met me in this posh room. When I entered, Alban didn’t have the courtesy to turn away from the heavy book he was reading. He flipped another gold-edged page.
“Doing a quick study of religious history?”
Alban didn’t flinch. “Much is happening. It’s time for you to be of use.”
“And you’re so friendly,” I said, “making it difficult to resist. I suppose you have a request, or you wouldn’t have interrupted my day to flaunt this gawdy palace room.”
Alban looked up, his red eyes intense. My ability to perceive another’s essence extended to the king. I didn’t usually take advantage of that opportunity. The king’s psyche was better left unexamined. It would only be a depressing view.
Yet the king’s expression intrigued me, so I took a closer look. He was prideful, haughty, and confident. I wouldn’t have needed to pierce the veil of his personality to see that. But there was more. He harbored anticipation in a frightening way, making me trepidatious about what he wanted from me.
There had been some interaction which had been significant for Alban, as I sensed his thoughts about it. A blood relative came to mind, someone he had an attachment to. Although anyone with such a connection wouldn’t benefit. In Alban’s world, all advantages flowed one direction only.
Alban felt encouraged, and that was undesirable for a king with an already inflated ego. A monumental event was about to happen; the king was ramping up his war efforts. He was focused on winning.
“I am intent on orchestrating the final strategy, a plan that will defeat my enemies and affirm my role as king.” Alban stood, and I noticed that he’d dressed for a special occasion. He’d shed his usual bloodstained garments, and instead he wore a long white robe.
“It’s reassuring to see that you can dress up when you need to.”
Alban walked over to me, his velvet robe flowing and the hem dragging along the polished floor. “I’ve communicated with my daughter Calina.”
I wasn’t easily shocked, but that one surprised me. “How unfortunate for her.” I dreaded to think of how Alban had managed that feat, or of Calina’s reaction.
“I’ve conveyed to her my disappointment with Draven, and I believe that I made my point.”
“No doubt,” I said. “But I believe your son already knew of your low opinion. You are at war with him, after all.”
“I’ve believed that Draven would see things my way, that he would realize the folly of his actions,” Alban said. “But I cannot continue to wait. If he persists in defying me, I’ll have to take stronger measures.”
“I can’t imagine what those might be.”
“I’ve made a plea to the gods, and I expect a visit shortly,” Alban said.
“The gods?” I hadn’t observed the king worshipping any god.
“Kronid and Zephyr.” The king spoke as though he’d invited some companions over for a chat.
“You have sought the aid of dark gods?” I said. “And you expect them to appear in your palace?”
“I have assurance that they will,” Alban said. “And it will give strength to my argument to have you in attendance.”
“Because…?” That was something I hadn’t predicted. The king was acknowledging my value.
“You are the most powerful sorceress in the kingdom, and your presence will indicate support.” Alban walked over to the long table. “It will be a show of strength that will impress them.”
I was aghast. “I’ve not pledged my support.”
“But you will—even you will not defy the king.”
His haughtiness was beyond my tolerance. Yet I preferred to stay and witness this interchange between the king and his dark gods. The gods weren’t inclined to make an appearance when called.
“You might be out of your league here,” I said.
Alban’s eyes gleamed with the insanity that I feared had finally overcome him. “I think not. Even the gods won’t side with my enemies. Throwing over the current regime doesn’t benefit them any more than it does me.”
I shuddered to think of meeting the gods viewed as devils. It wasn’t that they lacked the ability to personify and appear in visible forms—it was that I trembled at what those forms might be. Alban had chosen two gods with unsavory reputations.
Any luckless soul condemned to their care would be tortured, slaughtered, and dismembered for all eternity. And all of this occurred, if the story was to be believed, in a realm of eternal cold and darkness.
It occurred to me that Alban considered it a level playing field. He was one god communicating with others. In his crazy mind, maybe he would just hear voices, and no feared gods would appear at all.
I banished that thought when misty forms began to take shape across the table. Then the forms began to look like men. Alban addressed the one on the left as Kronid. The god was devastatingly handsome. But since he was a god, I supposed he could take shape in any form he desired.
He appeared to be an eighteen-year-old male, despite his actual agelessness. He had brown, wavy hair in a windblown style, as if he’d just ridden in a convertible. His brown eyes drew my attention, and I looked into them, feeling as though I might find the answers to the universe.
The other was Zephyr, a more average-looking god. He had blond hair and blue eyes, and his flawless skin seemed to glitter under the lights. He had an intelligent appearance, and I sensed immense wisdom. In response to Alban’s greeting, he looked but did not reply.
Despite the agreeable countenances, each of the gods was capable of doing their worst. Their histories were full of darkness, violence, and death. Stories of their terror-inspiring escapades abounded. Yet Alban had managed to garner a meeting with them.
I stared, and the gods looked back at me. Alban didn’t introduce me, so I assumed that they knew who I was. That was alarming in itself. Silently, I watched, more than willing to allow the king to guide the conversation.
The two gods projected real images, yet I perceived that if I reached out, my hand would go right through them. The forms they’d assumed were insubstantial, no more than a filmy representation.
Yet they listened as Alban presented his case. The king’s words sounded distant to me, and I didn’t hear his plea distinctly. But what he lobbied for was that the gods support him in his goal to wipe out those who would offer immortality to the many.
Death had a place. Just as good balanced evil, death gave life. Then Alban played to their egos. “In many religions, the dark gods of death are often overlooked by those who favor life.”
I noticed the gods were intent on Alban’s dissertation.
“But life is far less eternal than death,” Alban said. “So, my dark gods…who do the worshippers believe their ancestors reside with now? The finality of death shouldn’t be ignored and cannot be abolished.”
It struck me that Alban was spouting pure lunacy, yet the gods did not seem offended. I waited for his final request.
“I ask that you consider what I’ve said.” Alban paused for effect. “I honor your legacy of darkness and intend to hold firm to my role as king. I support you, and trust that you will wield your power to see that I am the victor in this war, and assist me to defend the challenge against death itself.”
I held my breath. The gods had yet to speak. Then Kronid nodded. “You have made yourself understood, king. But it is not for you to command the gods.”
Zephyr stared at the king. “Gods are not players in the dealings of the realm. Your war is yours to win or lose, not ours.”
Then the gods vanished. The space across the table was empty. I looked at Alban, expecting him to
fly into a rage, but he didn’t. Instead, he appeared satisfied.
“You’ll see,” Alban said. “The dark gods will see it my way. Once they consider what I’ve said, they will act in my favor.”
“What makes you so sure?”
“For a sorceress, you don’t know much about the gods.” Alban strode over to the window and looked out. “It’s bad form to instantly honor a request. They are gods. They will do what they will, according to their own decision.”
“Doesn’t that counter what you said a moment ago?”
“Not at all,” Alban said. “As gods of darkness, they will surely see it my way. I only needed to bring the urgent matter to their attention.”
The palace shook as though an earthquake had rocked the mountain. The crystals in the chandeliers clinked against each other, then the lights went out. A rumble of thunder sounded outside, then a bolt of lightning crashed through a window. Alban’s robe caught fire.
He lifted his hands and the fire snuffed out. With an evil gleam in his eyes, he turned to me. “You see…they are not indifferent like they claimed. That was a demonstration of power, a show of strength. The dark gods will not ignore the fight in this kingdom. There’s too much at stake.”
I was shaken. My sorceress abilities were great, yet I couldn’t stand up to gods. I regretted agreeing to be present. I’d rather not have been involved. It was too late for that. Kronid and Zephyr weren’t going to forget that I stood beside Alban.
I was about to leave when Alban stopped me. “Don’t go yet. I’m not done with you.”
“Now what?” I said. “Wasn’t that enough for one day?”
“I haven’t seen you frightened before,” Alban said. “That’s something to know. You’re not as invincible as you’d have me believe.”
