Rise of the Blood Royal

by Robert Newcomb

“Had she lived, Miriam would have probably said that your parents weren’t selected.”

  “Selected?” Tristan asked.

  “It has to do with why your and Vespasian’s blood is so special,” Hoshi answered. “The appearance of your supreme blood quality was a very rare but also a natural occurrence. Vespasian’s, however, was engineered by the Heretics and the Pon Q’tar.”

  “What do you mean?” Wigg asked.

  “Like the Consuls of the Redoubt who serve your Conclave, the Rustannican Heretics serve the Pon Q’tar,” Hoshi said. “Many are legionary officers, second in power only to the eighty tribunes. But others of them once followed another, darker purpose. For aeons it was their task to examine the blood signatures of all newborn endowed Rustannican infants. They searched for one specific female blood signature and one male signature. Many centuries ago they found the female, and they kidnapped her. When she reached her prime childbearing years, she was granted the time enchantment so that she would grow no older. She was imprisoned in luxurious surroundings in Ellistium and zealously guarded by the Pon Q’tar as they waited for the needed male signature holder to be found. Fifty Seasons of New Life ago, that male child finally came to light. Thirty years later he reached his sexual peak, then he and the woman were forced to mate under the watchful eyes of the Pon Q’tar until she conceived. The result was Vespasian Augustus I. He was taken from his parents and suckled by numerous veiled wet nurses so that no maternal or parental attachments would form in his psyche. From the day of his birth, his only ‘parents’ and mentors have been the Pon Q’tar.”

  Tristan shook his head. “It’s monstrous,” he breathed. “Are you saying that he has no knowledge of his true past?”

  “Precisely,” Jomei answered. “But there is more to this twisted tale. Immediately after Vespasian was born, his mother and father were again locked away in separate prisons. We surmise that they remain alive. Vespasian is unaware of their existence. He and Persephone believe that Vespasian was an orphan, raised and trained by the Pon Q’tar out of the ‘goodness’ of their hearts.”

  “I can understand why the Pon Q’tar wants Vespasian to believe that his parents are dead,” Tyranny mused. “It helps to ensure his loyalty. But why does the Pon Q’tar keep Vespasian’s parents alive? Surely their continued existence represents a threat to the Pon Q’tar’s credibility should Vespasian somehow learn the truth. His rage over how they have been treated might be incalculable.”

  “Can’t you guess?” Wigg asked the privateer.

  “They want to be able to bring another child of Vespasian’s blood into the world, should their first creation fail them,” Tristan breathed. He shot a questioning look at Mashiro.

  “That’s it, isn’t it?” he asked. “That’s also what you meant when you said that to save both sides of the craft, Rustannica and the Pon Q’tar must first be totally defeated. If Vespasian is killed and the Pon Q’tar live, they can do the same monstrous thing again.”

  “Yes,” Midori said. “The thirty or so years needed to bring another such abomination to manhood or womanhood is but a blink of an eye in the maze that is the craft. All that the Pon Q’tar wants from Vespasian is for him to use his potent blood to help take our gold and then summon the banned forestallments that will reduce Shashida to ashes. To them he is simply a tool of war—a means to an end and nothing more. Persephone was betrothed to him in an arranged marriage in hopes of keeping him from pursuing and impregnating other women. They even went so far as to cast spells over the empress, making it impossible for her to conceive. They add credibility to their supposed compassion for her plight by giving her useless potions said to enhance her fertility. She is told that the worthless concoctions might help, but in truth the Pon Q’tar doesn’t want Vespasian to father children. Being a father would create a needless distraction from his ceaseless training in the craft and might produced an unwanted reluctance in him to risk his life for their cause. When he has served their purposes, they might well kill him. Some sort of terrible accident, no doubt, that can be explained away to a grieving populace. He remains too great a threat to their power for him to live into old age.”

  “Who are Vespasian’s parents?” Tyranny asked. “Where did they come from?”

  “The girl was found in a peasant village in the Rustannican highlands,” Midori answered. “The boy came from a well-placed krithian family in Ellistium. To maintain secrecy the children’s families were killed by elite legionary assassins, and the murders were blamed on thieves and cutthroats who were never ‘caught.’”

  “How can you know all this?” Tristan asked Mashiro. “Julia is too young to have told you these things.”

  “Do you remember my saying that one of the League members rose to the rank of Heretic but that he was killed in battle?” Mashiro answered.

  Tristan nodded.

  “That man found the boy child who would later become Vespasian’s father,” Mashiro answered. “He was also one of the few Heretics who were granted full knowledge and participation in the Pon Q’tar’s plan. Part of his duties included guarding the imprisoned woman who became Vespasian’s mother. As a reward he was granted the time enchantment, and he lived for centuries. Being forced to participate in that travesty for so long nearly drove him to madness, but he persisted and was able to commune with us often. By then Julia had risen to the station of Priory Sister, and she and the League ‘Heretic’ knew each other. It was she who told us of his death, a terrible blow to our cause. Vespasian’s parents still lived at the time of our rebel Heretic’s death. But we have no way of knowing whether that is still the case, for even Julia has not been made privy to that information. Even so, keeping them alive would seem to be in the Pon Q’tar’s best interests, would it not?”

  “In a strange way I’m almost sorry for Vespasian,” Tristan said.

  Mashiro sternly shook his head. “I understand how you feel,” he said. “But you cannot afford to sympathize with his plight, Jin’Sai. If you meet him on the battlefield you must strike quickly and with everything you have. He is the ultimate product of the Vagaries, and he would as soon kill us as draw his next breath—you above all.”

  “And what about me and Shailiha?” Tristan asked. “You said that our blood signatures occurred naturally. What did you mean?”

  Mashiro smiled. “Unlike Vespasian’s parents, yours found one another on their own. Wigg and the other Directorate Wizards chose Nicholas I to be king, and Nicholas later took Morganna as his queen. Your parents’ union was natural, as were your and your sister’s twin births. Unknown to your father, mother, and the late Directorate, Nicholas and Morganna carried the supreme male and female blood signature halves needed to produce the Jin’Sai and the Jin’Saiou. Your parents were each of highly endowed blood, to be sure. But only when these two magnificently powerful and opposing gender blood signature halves join to form a new one does the resulting child’s blood take on such transcendent strength. You and Shailiha became those two children. In the entire history of your world, only three other such random pairings occurred. This also means that your blood signature and Shailiha’s are identical with that of every Jin’Sai and Jin’Saiou who preceded you.”

  “And the previous Jin’Sais and Jin’Saious that the Scroll Master spoke of,” Tristan said, “were they our forebears?”

  “In a way, they were,” Kaemon answered. “But as you can imagine, for the vast majority of recorded time these two supremely gifted blood signature halves drifted apart from one another as they resided in various people’s blood and were handed down from generation to generation. You and your sister are the first and only Jin’Sai and Jin’Saiou born to royalty. Nicholas and Morganna were more than just your parents—they were also the human vessels that carried the transcendent blood signature halves for a short time. They made you and Shailiha who you are, and you are right to keep on loving them and holding your memories of them dear.”

  Tristan sat in respectful silence for a moment, remembering. Then a
nother question occurred to him. “Save for its lean, is my blood signature identical to Vespasian’s?” he asked.

  Mashiro shook his head. “We do not know. Our rebel Heretic had no opportunity to see Vespasian’s blood signature before he was killed, nor has Julia. Our scholars believe that they are probably different in appearance but equally powerful.”

  “But what is it that gives these two—or should I say four—uniquely powerful signature halves such amazing qualities?” Wigg asked. “Why does their joining create people of such transcendent blood?”

  “Our scholars have long believed that it has something to do with the two orbs,” Renjiro answered. “That the orbs perhaps somehow influenced their evolution—one pair for the Vigors, another for the Vagaries. Each pair produces vastly different tendencies, to be sure, but they are probably equally powerful. In truth even we do not know. If we survive to defeat Rustannica, perhaps that will be one of the mysteries we will solve together. Aside from that, who is to say why these unique blood signatures produce such talented and extraordinary mystics? Why do some of us become geniuses of science and mathematics, or great prodigies in music and art? Nature still has her ways, and I daresay we humble humans have yet to fully understand them.”

  Tristan again looked through the gaps in the colonnade to the gardens lying beyond. The sun had set in earnest, and the various night creatures had started singing. A cool wayward breeze flowed through the magnificently appointed gardens, its invisible tentacles sometimes reaching into the room to gently caress his face. They brought with them unfamiliar scents, sounds, and seemingly even greater mysteries.

  Because of the many things he had learned this day, Tristan had at last found a sense of quiet peace in Shashida that he had known nowhere else. At last he knew who he really was, and how he and Shailiha had come to be, and why. Questions remained, but he understood enough to put his heart at rest—at least for now.

  Then his eyes caught the lovely Hoshi’s once more. He was about to speak to her when Mashiro garnered his attention. Leaning over the table slightly, the Inkai elder gave the three newcomers a serious look.

  “It is late,” he said. “I fully understand that you have more questions, but the three of you should retire. But before you leave us, there is something more that you need to know. You will probably find the news disturbing.”

  “What is it?” Wigg asked quietly.

  “You three brave travelers and everyone still aboard your Black Ships will likely never see Eutracia again,” Mashiro said. “Like us, you have become trapped on this side of the world. Because of this, you should consider making Shailiha the Queen of Eutracia. Tristan will likely never return home, and Eutracia must have a ruler.”

  Tristan looked over at Wigg and Tyranny to see resigned expressions. Wigg nodded; Tyranny took a deep breath and tried to give Tristan a reassuring smile.

  All the expedition members who had come with Tristan had done so willingly and with the knowledge that if they reached Shashida, they might never return home. But now that possibility had become fact, and the stark reality was settling in.

  Tristan was not concerned for himself. He would miss Eutracia, the other Conclave members, and most of all his sister. But with Celeste dead, and knowing that his destiny lay here, he was content to stay. Wigg had lost Abbey, so there was now less reason for him to return home even if he could. Tyranny was not romantically involved, as far as Tristan knew; her great love was for the Black Ships. With the Ellistium destroyed and the Cavalon damaged beyond use, the only serviceable Black Ships resided on this side of the world. Tristan couldn’t know whether she might command the great vessels again, but for her sake he hoped that she would. The other Conclave mystics who had traveled here with him had left no mates behind, and Tristan had insisted that the Minion warriors who accompanied him be unattached.

  But in the end none of that mattered, for the die was cast. Reaching Shashida meant starting new lives—lives that would surely be filled with wonder and amazement. But they would also be dangerous lives that would test the limits of their courage and faith in the Vigors. What Tristan, Wigg, and Tyranny didn’t know was why they couldn’t return home. Pursing his lips with thought, the Jin’Sai turned to look at Mashiro.

  “We all knew that if we reached Shashida we might never see Eutracia again,” Tristan said. “But before we retire, please tell us—why are we all trapped here? What keeps everyone from crossing the Tolenka Mountains? Why can’t we sail the Black Ships back the way we came?”

  “The story is a complicated one,” Mashiro answered, “and even we do not fully understand it. Because the hour is late, I will be brief. When the Pon Q’tar first used the spells that were later banned by the Borderlands Treaty, their calculations were crude by today’s standards and resulted in acts of the craft that were nearly uncontrollable. As you know, when the Pon Q’tar employed them, the Tolenka mountain range unexpectedly arose and the land mass separated to create the Sea of Whispers. We too had immense difficulties trying to control our versions of the spells. One such spell was designed to create the Azure Sea and the stone maze that would allow only persons of right-leaning blood to sail back and forth across it and to move easily from one side of the world to the other. When we realized that the spell was going awry, we created the Tome and the Vigors Scroll to leave behind for future generations of right-leaning blood to find and use. Some of us—like the Scroll Master and the Watchwoman of the Floating Gardens—volunteered to stay behind in hiding, in the hope that Vigors practitioners would find them and that they might help you to better understand the workings of the craft. But even they could not tell you about crossing the Azure Sea because it did not yet exist. Like the Pon Q’tar’s best efforts, ours too went awry. After the Azure Sea and the stone maze that brought you here formed, the spell took on a life of its own. That is the major drawback to the banned spells—in some cases they seem to come alive to create their own sentience and purpose. To our amazement, it evolved further and of its own choosing. Since that fateful day, we have not been able to undo it.”

  “Amazing,” Wigg said. “What was the result?”

  “As you know, the spell allows travel from east to west across the Azure Sea, but only by those possessing right-leaning blood, lest the maze’s course become different and continually repeat itself,” Jomei answered. “Regardless of one’s blood—be that blood unendowed or endowed of any type—should he or she try to sail the Azure Sea and head east, the maze walls rise, but afterward they join, crushing everything and everyone caught between them. You were lucky. Had you turned your ships around and headed back, everyone aboard them would have suffered that terrible fate. Despite our scholars’ best efforts, no answer to repairing the spell has been found. And even if one was devised, using it would violate the Borderlands Treaty, because its calculations are environmental. Even so, if the Rustannican break the treaty, our survival will mean that we must do the same.”

  “But that is not to say that others of right-leaning blood can’t come from east to west,” Tristan said.

  “True,” Mashiro answered. “But before doing so, they should be warned that they can never return.”

  “Why can’t the Tolenkas be crossed from this side?” Tyranny asked.

  “We are stymied by the same limitations as those living in the east,” Midori answered. “The mountains are simply too high for even us to cross. The air becomes so thin that every mystic group we sent up the mountainsides returned in failure. Despite much trying, we have found no spell to overcome this obstacle. The Pon Q’tar’s early spell that unexpectedly created the mountain range also developed a life of its own. To this day it morphs to protect its matrix against tampering.”

  “If that is true, then the craft has entered a dangerous and startling new phase,” Wigg said. “Or should I say, new to us three.”

  “Indeed,” Mashiro answered.

  “Because we can’t go back, you are right about the need for Shailiha to become queen,” Trista
n said to Mashiro. He looked over at Wigg. “Do you agree?” he asked.

  Wigg nodded. “She is the rightful heir, and her time has come,” he said.

  “Before you retire, there is something that I must ask you, Jin’Sai,” Mashiro said. “Can you decide soon whether you will help us to defeat Vespasian? As we said, to do this we must grant you the banned forestallments. Because of their great power, it is likely that even we cannot imbue your blood with these gifts without causing you great physical pain. If you choose not to help us, no shame will be attached to your decision. But if the answer is to be yes, we must alter our war plan, and time is precious. We also understand that all this news is overwhelming and that you will need time to decide. But know this: Our futures and the survival of the craft are inexorably tied to yours. Vespasian and the Pon Q’tar must be defeated, be it now or later. If you accept, we will do everything in our power to help you.” Mashiro gave Tristan a short smile, and the gleam in his eyes seemed to brighten.

  “After all, even the reigning Jin’Sai does not discover a new world every day,” he added.

  Tristan needed no time to decide. From the moment he took a seat at the meeting table, he had known that this strange land was where he would finally meet his destiny.

  “I will answer now,” he said quietly. “I cannot speak for those who accompanied me here, but for my part I will do all that I can to defeat Rustannica and her servants who wish to destroy us.” Pausing for a moment, he looked over at Wigg and Tyranny.

  “What say you?” he asked. “Are you with us?”

  Despite the painful loss of Abbey, Wigg dredged up the semblance of a smile. “I have been alive for more than three centuries,” he said. “I have loved and lost, and this night I find that is the case yet again. During all that time, I have striven to learn everything I could about the craft and to protect it from those who would see it destroyed. And now it seems that the real struggle is about to start.” The wizard stared into Tristan’s eyes. “I watched you and your sister come into this world not so long ago,” he added softly. “From that moment forward, I have been and always will be yours.”