by Terah Edun
“Sorry to disappoint you,” she managed to say. “But, well…you’ve won.”
“Won? Dear girl, this was never a contest,” Maradian said with an incredulous look.
Before she could respond, he reached out and put a strong hand on her shoulder. Pressing down with his flesh, he sent a sharp bite of clarity into her brain, briefly startling her out of the pain-filled fog that was taking over her mind. Then he sent a good bit of his magic into her torso along with the reproachful bite of pain to her brain.
Ciardis sat up with a wheezing gasp.
She hunched over as she tried to shout, “What are you doing to me?”
But nothing came out. She couldn’t form the words while desperately trying to take a breath.
Maradian’s power flowed through her with a bright burn that made her think her very blood was on fire. As the power jumped from one vein to the next, one organ to the next, and spread to her very bones, her body began to mend its injuries.
She felt bones push and pull under her skin as they snapped into place.
She felt her skin re-graft itself and grow on top of torn muscles.
She felt a surge of energy fly directly into her heart.
She wondered how she was still alive. She knew that every single thing that had just happened should have had her curled into a ball, weeping at the insurmountable pain.
But it was as if there was a disconnect between her mind and body. She felt no pain.
Just energy.
Energy and relief.
“Why?” Ciardis managed to croak as her harsh breathing slowed and she could finally look up at Maradian again.
“Why?” he asked indulgently. “I told you why. You need to be awake for this revelation.”
She frowned.
“Besides, girl,” Maradian said as he tapped her chin, “I never wanted you dead. Not today. Today we announce to the city and the world that the Algardis family is strong once more.”
Ciardis shook her head.
Maradian added with a cluck of his tongue, “Ahh, you still don’t understand. Alas, you soon will, and we will stride forward from the ruins of this palace together.”
Ciardis couldn’t help it this time. She laughed. “You’re delusional,” she said.
“And you are but a child,” he said. “Trying to play a game that the adults have been running for decades. Now stand up, my future daughter; heal your prince heir and your daemoni pet. We have much to do and so little time to accomplish it with Sandrin in ruins, your god on its ascendance, and a potential horde of angry dragons on my doorstep at any moment knowing their need to meddle.”
Ciardis stared at him, mouth agape.
She wanted to challenge everything he said, but she also wanted to live.
So far, the Emperor had never faltered in his mad plan to bring the entire world to its knees. She had a moment to wonder if he even could be defeated.
Don’t be daft, she told herself harshly. Everyone has a weakness. We just have to learn how to properly exploit his.
So she took his hand, a bit apprehensively, but she did it all the same.
The Emperor stood up.
He pulled her up with him.
Ciardis instinctively winced, planning to feel her body reject every movement. But she felt no pain. As her flesh touched the Emperor’s, she felt her power building like never before. Instead of manifesting itself into lightning or even boosting the Emperor’s own gifts, it flowed first to Sebastian and then to Thanar in peaceful waves. She tried to call it back, to control it, but she couldn’t. To her astonishment, the Emperor was directing the gifts, not her.
She opened her mouth to object, but Maradian hushed her, saying, “Before you complain, perhaps take a long at what I’m doing with your gifts, rather than why.”
Ciardis tried to jerk back her hand, opening her psyche at the same time. Determined to get control back. But the Emperor wouldn’t let her go.
Patiently, he said, “Look with your eyes, not your mind, Weathervane. Some gifts are better understand through their actions. In this case…you wouldn’t understand what I’m doing any more with your thoughts than with your vision.”
Ciardis reluctantly did as he commanded. She didn’t see herself having much of a choice anyway.
She looked over at Sebastian and Thanar, who were mirroring her movements.
“How?” she asked.
“That seeleverbindung of yours is capable of many things, Weathervane,” the Emperor said dryly. “I just helped it along.”
“Why did you save us?” demanded Sebastian.
“Save you?” the Emperor asked in mock astonishment. “I didn’t save you,” he continued in a droll tone. “You weren’t in danger of dying. My guest wouldn’t have liked that.”
Ciardis twitched. She didn’t like this, not at all.
“What now?” she asked as she shrugged her shoulders, trying to dislodge the feeling of unease that rested on her like a heavy cloud.
The Emperor smiled at her, pleased. She stepped backward, just trying to get some space between him and her. A pleased Maradian was never good. She just wanted this day on hellish earth to end. Unfortunately, her stumbling steps had her almost tripping over broken pieces of tile.
The Emperor eyed her and said in a soft voice, “Careful. You don’t want to undo all the pretty work you’ve just done. You just healed your ribs; it would be a shame to break your neck after all.”
Ciardis shivered, but she caught her balance and remained firm in her stance.
“I thought you said we were powerful,” she challenged, feeling her eyes flash. “If the bond can heal every single one of us at such a distance, surely it can mend a few more scrapes and bruises from a simple fall.”
Maradian laughed. “You’re getting ahead of yourself again, Weathervane. It might have been your powers that saved you from some very painful hours of agony, but I directed those gifts. Besides, you may be powerful, but even a triumvirate has limits on what it can draw upon in so little time.”
“Why is it that you know so much about these gifts?” Ciardis countered.
Maradian narrowed his eyes in a satisfied manner. “Because I am not one to bumble around with gifts that I don’t know how to control.”
Ciardis was miffed.
Maradian continued, “You may abhor a study of history, Weathervane, but you would be surprised at how many mistakes have been made by people who don’t listen to their ancestors’ teachings.”
“Like you?” Sebastian asked wryly.
Maradian shrugged. “There’s listening, and there’s improving upon. I’ve learned as much as I can from our dearly departed forefathers. Now I am forging a new path.”
“You and who else?” Ciardis countered as she hugged her ribs. As much as she wanted to attack the Emperor, he seemed to know too much and have too much experience for them to gain the upper hand. At least for now.
Maradian said, “Ahh, you mean my guest? Well, I think you shall be so pleased.”
“Speak plainly,” snarled Thanar as he hunched over with a wince. The magic had mended his wings but left several shards still sticking out of him.
Ciardis winced too, but there was nothing she could even attempt to do about that from here.
“Very well,” the Emperor said. “If you insist.”
Maradian lifted a hand and Ciardis flinched.
She wasn’t sure what she expected. A slap on the face, perhaps a blow to the head.
But Maradian simply dropped his hand through the air with the finality of a judge calling for silence in a packed magistrate’s court.
Instead of silence, the harsh beats of footsteps sounded. All around them, like a stampede of horses heading their way.
12
Ciardis held her breath as she waited for whatever it was to storm into the room.
The sound became louder and louder. She put her hand to her throat and nervously looked around.
It felt like the very room was shaking.
>
As her eyes caught on tiny bits of marble and plaster actually vibrating on the floor, she realized that it in fact was.
The steady beat of something coming towards them began to take on a rhythm. It didn’t sound so much like organized chaos anymore, but rather a lot of individuals, maybe even people, drawn to one spot at once.
Had Maradian’s hand been more than a physical signal? That stampede was coming from much further off than she had thought.
Just when she began to deny the existence of a physical presence in her head, soldiers began to pour into the room. From all sides and all corners.
But they weren’t coming from the hallways or through the broken ceiling above. Instead, like ghosts with no physical flesh, they stormed straight through porous walls, like nightmare apparitions come to life.
Ciardis groaned.
This did not look good. She had been questioning what was coming, why she hadn’t felt their presence before. She had the feeling that she would have better luck finding out why the sun was yellow instead of pink. These soldiers weren’t just humans; they were all mages.
Mages, she thought in desperation, under Maradian’s direct control.
She tore her gaze from the expressionless faces of men and women who stood at attention in ranks with magical auras all at the peak of strength. They had been using those gifts in order to conceal their presence, which explained why no one had been able to sense them coming. As Ciardis stared at their auras, agape, she saw that a tiny line of power ran from each soldier to the next in a complex hexagon that eventually led straight to Maradian.
That’s when Ciardis Weathervane went pale.
“Their power, you’re siphoning it too?” she demanded in horror, fixating her gaze on the Emperor’s smug face.
“I wouldn’t exactly call it siphoning,” he said in a deadpan voice. “They did, after all, offer me the use of their gifts.”
“Just like I did? You stole their powers like a leech,” Sebastian snarled, anger in his eyes. He was surrounded on three sides by soldiers, all of whom were careful not to touch him, and none of whom dared to look into his face.
But one, a woman, was quick to contradict the prince heir as she said, “No sir! We offered the Emperor our gifts.”
Sebastian turned his head slightly to look at her and gauge the honesty on her face.
Even from this distance, Ciardis could tell she was telling the truth, though; or at least, what she thought was the truth.
Companion Weathervane turned wary eyes onto the Emperor. “Do they know who you really are?”
“They are my personal guard,” Maradian demurred. “Of course they know.”
Ciardis didn’t believe him.
She turned around in a slow circle, trying to catch the eyes of one of the guards who surrounded them. They all gazed off into the distance, heads held high, eyes pointed straight ahead.
She bit the inside of her lip to stop a bitter laugh from echoing out.
Instead she asked politely, pointing an accusing finger at the Emperor himself, “Who is this man?”
Her voice rang out strong and true as she asked the question of Maradian’s most loyal troops.
To a person, they answered her: “The Emperor of Algardis!”
Ciardis shook her head, bemused. “Yes, but who is the Emperor of Algardis? Do you know that you serve a charlatan?”
A chill went through the air as each soldier straightened an impossible inch taller.
But they didn’t answer her as a unit this time.
Instead, the same woman standing at attention near Sebastian’s side spoke again. “Your Imperial Majesty, permission to step forward?”
Ciardis’s eyes noted a rank badge on her left shoulder. The female commander.
“Given,” replied Maradian dryly. He walked away to take a missive from a soldier off on the perimeter.
The female commander marched forward with precise and measured steps, then turned to face Ciardis Weathervane head on.
“The man we serve,” she said with supreme confidence, “is the Emperor Maradian Athanos Algardis. First of his name. We serve him proudly. We serve him true.”
Ciardis stared in astonishment. “You know who he is?”
The female commander met the Weathervane’s eyes. “Yes. The question is, do you?”
Ciardis was flummoxed. “Why don’t you enlighten me?”
The female commander didn’t deign to respond.
“Dismissed back to ranks,” Maradian said casually, strolling back over to take his place.
With a casual wave of his hand, he ordered Sebastian and Thanar forward.
With some non-so-gentle nudges from the soldiers at their backs, they got the message and both walked over to stand in a semi-circle with the Emperor of Algardis.
“They are loyal to me,” Maradian said, “because they believe that I am the only member of my family who can end the turmoil in our empire.”
“Turmoil you caused,” Ciardis said. “You’re a fraud, and you’ve deposed the true Emperor.”
Maradian shrugged. “That may be so, but you’ll have a hard time proving that my brother didn’t vacate the throne of his own volition and out of foolish pride. I am simply the only one who stood up to take charge and lead an empire left behind.”
Sebastian’s hand bunched into a fist, but at a warning look from the female commander, he eased back. He couldn’t very well attack the sitting Emperor in front of his personal guard. Not and expect to live.
“Now, would you like to see my surprise?” the Emperor asked joyfully.
No one said a word.
“I’ll take that as an enthusiastic yes,” the Emperor said. “So please hand over any swords and blades to my personal guard. I wouldn’t want there to be any accidents after the reveal.”
Ciardis had to wonder who this guest truly was.
Perhaps Seven, she thought to Thanar. He’s ruthless enough, and we’ve been meaning to catch up with him for payback since he so rudely dropped into play.
Somehow I doubt he is the one, Sebastian said in a voice just short of fuming.
Aloud the prince heir said, “And if we refuse?”
Several dozen soldiers shifted into an ominous ready position all around them.
“You say that as if you have a choice,” the Emperor replied.
To defuse tension, Ciardis said, “Well, we had to ask.”
Maradian shrugged. “At least I put in a polite request. I could have just had them taken off you, but that would have just left bruised egos and shins all around.”
“Considering this is all a game to you, I don’t see that we have much of a choice,” said a cranky Ciardis Weathervane.
Maradian looked her over with a sharp gaze. “It always was, Weathervane. You just need to learn to play by my rules.”
“You know, Uncle,” Sebastian said solemnly as he handed his sword to a waiting soldier, “I truly thought we were. Killing innocents, wreaking havoc on the palace, even countermanding orders. All of that I learned from you.”
Maradian smiled. “You are like a baby toddling around his first game. Those are opening moves, boy. In the game of empires, we always play several steps ahead.”
Ciardis did something she should have done a long time ago. She lowered her shields and opened her gaze. Not to see what magic Maradian had in store, but to see precisely what it was that he was doing to so heavily influence all the magic around them—from the personal guard’s hexagonal loop of power to her own unstable gifts.
What she saw had her stumbling back in horror. When the Emperor saw the look on her face, he laughed in joy.
“And now you see, Weathervane,” he said in delight. “Always be one step ahead of your enemies. It’s the only way to play. You’ll need that in your game with the gods.”
Ciardis was too busy processing what she had just learned to pay his words much mind. Maradian wasn’t just controlling the nexus of power, he was the nexus. Whatever he so desired would
happen; the laws of magical properties were no longer in play.
She knew that had they even attempted to fight beyond Thanar’s failed move, they would have lost the battle. They had no chance winning.
Gulping silently, she gamely raised her hands with lightning in her palms.
There was something that she had to know.
Carefully keeping the palms flat, she increased the strength of her power. The lightning wasn’t aimed at anyone in particular, and still the personal guard was tense.
But they waited for Maradian’s word. A sign of a highly loyal squadron. Too bad they were on the wrong side.
She increased the power and opened her aura. As she watched, her power jumped from her hands and into Maradian’s never-ending loop into the nexus.
She looked him in the eye and said, “You aren’t just draining their gifts. You’re draining everyone’s. Silently, like a disease that no one knows is lurking there. It’s killing the magic in the very air.”
Maradian gently reached out and place a hand on top of her ball of lightning. She watched the power absorb into his flesh with nary a tickle.
“Yes,” the Emperor said in simple satisfaction. “I am. Fortunately for you, this was just a test of my skills. As soon as this conversation is through, we’ll go back to what we were before.”
“We’ll never go back to being oblivious,” Sebastian said.
Maradian shrugged. “Oh well, yes, that’s true. But appearances are crucial in matters such as these, and I need all this power for a reason.”
“Which you refuse to disclose,” Thanar said coldly.
“My prerogative and all that,” the Emperor said with a flick of his wrist. Then he turned to Ciardis and said in confidence, “Dear Ciardis, if you learn one lesson from me—don’t go into battle knowing you’ve lost the war already.”
Ciardis stiffened. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“It means,” said a feminine voice making its way through the ring of soldiers surrounding them, “that a fight against Maradian is not a battle we would win, and one we cannot afford in any case with the war that is coming.”
Ciardis’s jaw dropped as none other than Lillian Weathervane came to stand beside Maradian Athanos Algardis.
