Rise of the Blood Royal

by Robert Newcomb

  Suddenly a breeze came up, threatening to lift Julia’s veil. Grasping it quickly, she clutched her leather valise tighter and hurried on. Soon she reached the famous landmark known as the Columns of the Emperors. It lay at the far end of the forum, just before the elegant entryway into the royal residence. The two opposing rows of giant columns were made of solid black onyx and rose to a height of one hundred feet. Each gleaming monolith was capped with a solid gold capital; atop each capital stood a marble likeness of a past emperor.

  Walking among the massive columns always gave Julia a profound sense of history and sometimes made her feel insignificant, despite her important role as the reigning Femiculi. On reaching the final column she looked up to see Vespasian’s likeness shining in the midday sun. Purposely avoiding the guarded entryway to the palace, she turned right and walked on.

  Soon she arrived at her destination. The Hall of Antiquity held a special place in the hearts of all true Rustannicans, from the most highborn krithian to the lowliest phrygian street beggar. Skeens were denied entry, even when accompanied by their owners. Pausing for a moment, Julia took in the impressive structure.

  The building stood four stories high, each level boasting an ornate recessed archway every forty feet. Within each archway stood a marble likeness of an important figure from Rustannican history. People known for their contributions to the military, the arts, and the Vagaries were represented, along with members of previous royal families. More statues lined the flat rooftop.

  One hundred stone steps led the visitor first to a broad landing, then up a narrower stairway to the huge columned entrance. Manicured cypress trees and thousands of colorful flowers adorned the grounds on either side. The battle frieze carved into the triangular pediment represented the famous Rustannican victory at Aegates, a onetime Shashidan city lying far to the south. Julia started the trek upward, eventually finding herself atop the last landing and among the massive fluted columns.

  After taking a moment to catch her breath, she walked over to the huge sundial standing on the terrace. She was surprised to see how late it had become; she must not dally. As she smoothly turned to enter the building, armed centurions guarding the massive oak doors bowed to the Femiculi.

  As she entered the great foyer, imposing works of art and artifacts of Rustannican history came into view. Despite their great number, they were only a smattering of what lay deeper within. Striding across the foyer, she stopped for a moment and looked around.

  The Hall of Antiquity was both an art museum and a monument dedicated to the glories of the empire’s war machine. Many of its hundreds of exhibition rooms were filled with Rustannican paintings, sculptures, and tapestries, some of them aeons old. Other rooms devoted to the history of the Rustannican military exhibited ancient battle charts, war machines and weapons, tributes to past leaders, uniforms, and spoils from Shashida. Coming here to learn about Rustannican culture and the empire’s war machine was a required part of every krithian, hematite, and phrygian schoolchild’s education. As the children were escorted through the place by their teachers, the war displays sowed the seeds of a military career—a sentiment that the Pon Q’tar did nothing to discourage.

  From the grand foyer ran seven hallways, each named for one of Ellistium’s seven hills and leading to a different series of exhibition rooms. Sheathed in gleaming white alabaster and blue marble, the foyer atrium reached all the way to the roof, where skylights let the afternoon sun stream in. In the event of rain, shutters could be pulled across the skylights to protect the priceless exhibits.

  The hall was busy today with a high number of visitors and several gaggles of noisy schoolchildren being escorted by their ever-watchful teachers, their eager voices and quick footfalls echoing loudly against the marble floor and walls. Without exception, everyone who crossed Julia’s path stopped to bow and pay heartfelt respects. To keep from being further delayed, she politely circumvented another approaching group of visitors and made for one of the gleaming hallways, then quickly climbed another flight of stairs.

  Reaching the second floor, she turned and walked up the first hallway on her right and into one of the many exhibition rooms. She took her usual seat on a marble bench across from a wall covered with paintings. There were few people about just now, and that suited her purpose. Opening her leather valise, she withdrew her sketchpad and her colored chalks, then placed the valise on the floor.

  The room she chose was devoted to a group of Rustannican painters known as the Ravennans. Ravenna was a small town in the south of Rustannica known for its magnificent sunlight and colorful foliage, especially during the Season of Harvest. The Ravennan painters had been a tightly knit group, never numbering more than twelve. Painting some two centuries ago, they displayed an uncanny ability to capture dappled sunlight while showing wholesome themes of hard work and loyalty to the Rustannican Empire. These patriotic qualities had quickly brought their work into favor with the ever-watchful Pon Q’tar. Like so many other aspects of Rustannican culture, all artwork was subject to the approval of the clerics before it could be sold privately or displayed in public. Conversely, all captured Shashidan artwork was immediately deemed degenerate and summarily destroyed by whatever legions came across it.

  Despite Rustannica’s brutal nature, the Ravennans depicted their warlike nation as compassionate. Each brushstroke added layer on layer to the great hoax that was Rustannica. Only Julia and the Pon Q’tar knew the truth about the craft, but the Pon Q’tar had yet to learn that Julia was aware of it. It was that same dreaded secret that gave her the courage to come here once each month. Just the same, she lived with the constant fear of being found out, tortured, and killed.

  As she looked at the paintings, Julia saw the same sanitized agenda over and over again, and she hated the Ravennans for it. These works mirrored the great lie, leading her to understand why the Pon Q’tar valued them so much. Like a painter who reused a canvas to cover a failed effort, Julia was painfully aware of the ugly truth that lay beneath the Pon Q’tar’s treachery and deceit.

  As she started to sketch the painting before her, her sense of revulsion grew. Her well-known pastime of sketching was nothing more than an excuse to leave the Priory and come here. She had chosen this place for her excursions precisely because she hated it so, and she frequented the Ravennan room because of all the chambers here, she hated this display the most. The military exhibitions were gruesome, but at least their depictions were honest. But here in the Ravennan room, surrounded with charming lies made of paint and canvas, Julia was best reminded of her intense hatred of all things Rustannican and the importance of her mission. For Julia Idaeus was far more than the reigning Femiculi.

  She was a Shashidan spy and a member of the League of Whispers, embedded into the highest reaches of the Rustannican government.

  As she sketched, people wandered by but left her alone. She was known here, and most visitors respected her privacy. That was another reason why the Hall of Antiquities was the perfect choice for her assignations. Because this was a public place, even the deeply suspicious Pon Q’tar would never suspect that something so damaging to their cause might happen within these walls. Her hatred for this place and all it represented was the perfect fuel for her passionate devotion to the Vigors cause.

  Closing her eyes for a moment, she called the craft.

  “I am here,” she said silently.

  “We hear you,” the many voices answered in her mind. Their harmonious timbre was reassuring. “Are you well?” they asked.

  “Yes,” she answered. “There is much to tell you.”

  “And there is much for us to tell you, child. Is your secret still safe?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then you may continue.”

  For the next quarter hour Julia silently communed with her Vigors masters over vast distances incomprehensible to the average mind. She told them everything, including Vespasian’s impending campaign to take the Shashidan mines and its reasons. When she finished
she sat and waited, all the while being sure to glance from time to time at the hated Ravennan landscape and to continue sketching a copy of it.

  For a time her masters did not answer, causing a flood of fear to pour through her. Have I been detected? she wondered. Are centurions on the way to arrest me? Then she realized that it must have been the stunning nature of her message that had given her masters pause. When they finally replied, she was greatly relieved.

  “Are you sure of these things?” the voices asked. “Defending the mines against such a major attack will be a huge undertaking, and you must be absolutely certain.”

  “Without question,” she answered. “Vespasian even allowed me to help form the battle plan.”

  Again the masters paused for what seemed an unnerving period. “Tell us of the plan,” the voices finally ordered.

  After outlining the campaign, Julia again fell silent, waiting for a response.

  “So Vespasian has requested that you go on this quest to perform the auspiciums,” they said. “That will prove useful.”

  “Indeed,” Julia answered.

  “Does Gracchus continue to subvert the auspiciums to help perpetuate the great hoax?” the many voices asked.

  “I believe that he does,” the Femiculi answered. “He is still unaware that I know. I have also been informed that Persephone will accompany Vespasian on the campaign.”

  “That is interesting and perhaps useful as well,” the voices said.

  “There is more,” Julia continued, fearful that she was pushing the limits of her subterfuge. Since she had sat down, no Rustannican had tried to speak to her. But it would only be a matter of time until some fawning citizen wanting to be seen in the company of the Femiculi came over to address her.

  “Vespasian is acting strange,” she told them. “He left the games for no reason two days ago. I believe that he could be ill, but I do not know what is wrong with him.”

  “That is also of great interest,” the voices replied. “But time grows short, so we will discuss it more during our next communion. While on the campaign it is imperative that you find a safe place in which to commune with us. Thank you for all that you have told us and for your constant bravery as you continue to serve us from the belly of the beast. Before we leave you, there is something important that you must know. If it happens, the results will be earth-shattering.”

  “What is it?” she asked.

  “The Jin’Sai and some of his Conclave are about to try to cross the Azure Sea,” the Ones answered. “They have seen subtle matter for the first time, and they also discovered the message that we left hidden in the Tome and the Scrolls so long ago. Tristan is the first Jin’Sai to do so. If he reaches Shashida alive, our world will change forever.”

  Julia began to tremble, her shaking hands suddenly drawing unruly lines. It was all she could do to keep from erupting in joy. Finally allowing her tired fingers to rest, she took a deep breath and calmed herself.

  “It is time for us to sever our link lest our communion be discovered,” the Ones said. “Stay safe, Julia Idaeus, and remain brave in the face of the many changes that will soon come.”

  Even before she could say goodbye, Julia felt the bond between her mind and theirs dissolving, then it was gone. She felt tired but elated. Gathering up her valise, she put away her drawing things and turned to leave the Ravennan chamber. As she walked across the hated room, several Ellistium toadies bowed and scraped to her and attempted to engage her in small talk. But she did not mind, nor did she need to hurry, for hope was finally at hand.

  As the Femiculi finally left the Hall of Antiquity to navigate her way back through the busy forum, from behind the protection of her veil she smiled.

  CHAPTER XXIV

  “IS THERE ANY SIGN OF THE CONCLAVE?” KHRISTOS asked. He gave his lead Blood Viper a stern look. “I must be notified the moment the Jin’Sai’s party is detected.”

  The creature hissed and shook his head. “No, my lord,” he answered. “Rest assured that when they arrive, we will be ready to strike. As you have ordered, some of us wait in hiding near the cave entrance. When they approach, we will enter the Caves ahead of them and inform you.”

  “Very well,” Khristos answered. “Be sure to report to me the moment they are seen. But do not engage them or otherwise alert them to your presence. Let them enter the Caves peacefully. Only then will we take our revenge.”

  “Understood, my lord,” the Blood Viper answered. The creature bowed respectfully, then slithered away with several others of his kind to go about its duties.

  As he watched his servants go, Khristos smiled. Before committing the viper embryos to the peaceful river in Hartwick Wood, Failee had enchanted a handful of them with the power of speech. These specially gifted ten would one day serve as Khristos’ captains, she had told him. Because of the Blood Vipers’ extremely violent and nearly uncontrollable natures, Failee feared that allowing all of them to converse with one another might lead to discord, perhaps even rebellion.

  Some of these specially gifted ones served as Khristos’ eyes and ears above ground, while the others helped to convey his orders to the multitudes. Those that could talk did so in a hesitant, guttural fashion, reflecting the violent nature of their dark personalities. Despite the vipers’ rather inhuman way of speaking, Khristos smiled as he remembered the late First Mistress’s brilliance. The Blood Vipers were among her precursors to the Minions of Day and Night, Gracchus had said.

  How ironic, he thought. The first of Failee’s many attempts to develop the Minions are about to battle the final products. The results should prove interesting.

  On entering the caves, Khristos unerringly followed Gracchus’ directions and led his servants to the chamber where they could feast on Nicholas’ glowing eggs. With each egg that they consumed he watched them grow stronger and more willing to kill and die, if need be, in the late First Mistress’s name.

  Then Gracchus had again communed with Khristos, ordering him to travel deeper yet into the Caves. Again following the lead cleric’s directions, the Viper Lord led his monsters to the shores of the Azure Sea. From there, supply lines had been established so that more eggs could be delivered to the waiting vipers to feed on and build their strength.

  Before communing with Gracchus, Khristos considered ambushing the Jin’Sai above ground near the entrance to the Caves. But Gracchus had commanded Khristos to let Tristan enter unharmed, bringing his Black Ships and all of his warriors with him. The process would be time-consuming but worth the wait, the Pon Q’tar cleric said.

  Only after making sure that the enemy had traveled too far into the bowels of the earth to order an effective retreat would Khristos finally spring his trap and slaughter them all. His superior numbers would savagely overwhelm the Vigors worshippers and the winged beasts they commanded. Then he would enjoy watching Tristan’s precious Black Ships burn.

  When the Jin’Sai and all of his followers were dead, Khristos would take the fight aboveground again and redirect his rage against the Jin’Saiou and those remaining Conclave members and Minion warriors who followed her. With Tristan, his Minions, and half of the Conclave killed, Khristos’ victory in this last struggle would be far more assured.

  He would then go on to ransack Tammerland, destroy the royal palace, and tear the Redoubt of the Directorate apart from stem to stern. Moreover, he would burn the Tome and the Vigors Scroll to ashes, ensuring that no endowed person could use them against him. Then his next mission could begin as he and his vipers went on to murder every endowed man, woman, and child of right-leaning blood he could find. Vigors blood in Eutracia would exist no more.

  After completing his scorched-earth campaign, he would then take his servants to Parthalon in the Jin’Saiou’s two Black Ships. He did not know how to sail them through the air, but that did not distress him. He could easily round up any number of Eutracian sailors living along the coastline, just as he had done with the citizens of Birmingham and Tanglewood. He would use the cra
ft to bend the sailors to his will and force them to take him across the ocean in the traditional way. Once he reached Parthalon, the entire country would fall prey to him and his Blood Vipers. He would then stand astride both nations like a colossus and enjoy the just rewards of dictatorship that Gracchus had promised to him.

  Hearing the sounds of the ocean, Khristos turned. While he and his grisly servants eagerly awaited news of the Jin’Sai’s arrival, Khristos took in the amazing sight.

  The cavern in which he stood was huge—so mammoth, in fact that he could not see its limits. A great subterranean ocean lay before him, its blue waves stretching away from the rocky shore. Hundred of meters above him, a ceiling of rock lay where the sky would normally have been. The millions of radiance stones ensconced within it lit this place brightly with a sage-green hue, stretching as far as his eyes could see. Even the ocean itself, wide and foam-crested, seemed endless.

  The smell of the cool breeze blowing in off the waves reminded him of the coast of Eutracia. The froth-tipped waves were the exact hue produced by the craft. They rushed toward him over and over again, crashing noisily upon the sandy shore some fifty meters from his feet. Behind him lay a long, jagged stone wall, reaching from the sand to the top of the cavern. Hundreds of cave openings pierced the wall, their dark holes often lying many meters above the sand. With Gracchus’ help, Khristos knew that each one stretched for leagues into the living rock. Within those caves his thousands of servants lay coiled and ready to strike at a moment’s notice.