At the sound of the voice, Hronso’s eyes snapped open again. At the top of the stairs stood an old man in purple robes with gold trim: the attire of the Imperial Household. His eyes, although riddled with the lines of many years, were razor sharp, while his hawk-like nose and protruding jaw gave him a naturally haughty appearance.
Throwing back his hood, Hronso glared at the man. “And I demand to know when a servant has license to speak to the Emperor’s General without so much as a bow. Or has your status changed, Ional? You are still the Emperor’s court messenger boy, are you not?”
Ional lowered his eyes and took a step back.
It was all too easy to cow these vermin, Hronso considered. They were courageous when whispering in dark corners, but when facing him in person their fear had them whimpering like dogs. He could almost hear their gossip as he ascended the stairs.
Hronso was driven away by a mere boy.
Hronso had to run home with his tail tucked firmly between his legs.
Not that any of this was untrue. But no one knew the way in which events really unfolded. Not even Shinzan. Not that he would care.
As the general reached the top, Ional, refusing to look him in the eye, spun on his heels and walked away as quickly as he could through the archway. The black and red marble floor beyond was split down the center by white tiles that led directly to a raised dais. Atop this stood one of Shinzan’s thrones – he had three others scattered about the palace. The room itself was massive, spanning more than one-hundred feet across and twice as long, together with fifty-foot high ceilings. Black columns, so large that five men stretching hand-in-hand still wouldn’t be capable of reaching around their circumference, flanked the white tile path. Gold ravens as tall as a man hung on the walls every ten feet, with a five-pointed gold star set within the marble between each one of these.
The intricately carved throne was pure white ivory and gold – or that’s what people believed. Hronso knew better. What was imagined to be ivory, was in reality the bones of the Council of Volnar. Often during an audience he would notice the Emperor running his finger along the arm of the throne, an odd little smile on his face. Some claimed that he actually talked to it, even having entire conversations as if it were speaking back to him with a voice that only he could hear. Naturally, no one ever dared mention this in his presence.
On either side of the throne were two smaller archways, both of which led through to a courtyard at the back. Seeing that the throne was currently unoccupied, Hronso knew this was where Shinzan would currently be. The Emperor spent much of his time there sitting alone by the fountain, or perhaps with one or two of his concubines.
His long strides quickly overtook Ional.
“Wait,” the old man cried. “I must announce you.”
Hronso stopped short. Without turning around he said: “You will run as fast as you can, as far away from me as you can…now. Or I will present our beloved Emperor with your head.”
Ional paused for a moment. Then, on seeing the general’s hand drift into the folds of his cloak, ran for all he was worth from the chamber. Hronso did not move on until hearing the echo of his footfalls exit the archway.
Just as he reached the entrance to the courtyard, he stopped to see where the Emperor was located. If he was beside the fountain, this might just go well. If not…
The courtyard itself was nearly as large as the throne room itself, only without a ceiling. The fountain was crafted from a rare green stone found only in the mines of Syrius in the northern regions of Kytain. The dwarves had built it for him as a tribute several hundred years ago. It was made in the shape of a giant raven with wings spread and head tilted skyward. Water poured from both its beak, and the tips of its feathers, into a deep octagonal pool. Several benches surrounded the area. This is where Hronso was hoping to see the Emperor. But all the benches were empty.
Rows of rare flowers and neatly trimmed bushes created a series of narrow walking paths around the rest of the yard. But Shinzan was not to be seen on these either.
He took a few cautious steps forward. “Your Majesty?”
Pain ripped through his right shoulder, sending him lurching forward. Instinctively, he reached for his sword and spun around.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”
There stood Shinzan, dressed in a white silk open-necked shirt and loose fitting trousers. His blond locks fell just past his shoulders in tiny ringlets, held back by the gold band on his brow.
Hronso instantly dropped to one knee. “Forgive me, Your Majesty. You surprised me.”
The Emperor loomed over him in silence. Slowly Hronso looked up. Shinzan was smiling. His chiseled jawline and perfect nose were neatly complemented by his deeply set blue eyes. In fact, many of his servants often spoke of the Emperor’s allure and charm. Handsome was not quite the word. Striking. That was what the women would whisper as he passed by.
Shinzan placed his hands on his hips and laughed. “Please, old friend. No need to grovel.”
Hronso rose and bowed. “You wanted to see me?”
At a signal from Shinzan, a young dusky-haired woman came through the archway toward them. She wore a sheer silken blue gown stitched with circular gold patterns, which in the light of the sun revealed that she had nothing else on beneath.
“Have you met Kariel?” the Emperor asked. The girl lowered her eyes and bowed respectfully to Hronso. “One of my agents rescued her from a brothel in Traxis and brought her here. Lovely, isn’t she?”
“Yes, Your Majesty. She is.”
Shinzan led her to a bench beside the fountain and sat down. “So, you are here to tell me more about your failure. Am I right?”
“It’s not as simple as that,” said Hronso, trying hard to keep any hint of irritation out of his tone.
Shinzan kissed Kariel’s hand and looked into her eyes. “Did you know that General Hronso was the very first Rakasa I created?” She shook her head. “It’s true. He is the first and the best. I thought it was good fortune that he was nearby when a portal opened in Malacar. I thought that surely the great General Hronso could handle such a simple matter for me.”
He turned to the general. His face darkened. “But I thought wrong, didn’t I?”
Hronso could see that the girl was trembling. Shinzan was squeezing her hand tighter and tighter. Then, all at once, his demeanor brightened and he relaxed his grip. Kariel let out a soft whimper.
“I’m sorry my dear,” he said, stroking her injured hand. “I’m afraid I allowed my temper to get the better of me.” His own hands then glowed with a radiant blue light.
Kariel gasped.
“All better?” he asked.
She nodded. “Yes, Your Majesty. Thank you.”
His attention returned to Hronso. “Tell me, old friend. Where is the son of Praxis Dragonvein?”
“He is being protected by the dwarves.”
“And why did you not catch him for me?”
Again, the air grew cold.
“There was no way to breach the mountain,” Hronso explained. “I sent one hundred soldiers to demand that they turn him over, but they never returned.”
“And why did you not go there yourself?”
“I didn’t think it was necess…”
Before Hronso could finish, Shinzan waved his hand. A line of black smoke sprang forth from the ground at the general’s feet. In a flash, it coiled itself around him like a foul serpent. He was instantly frozen in place. The pressure on his body mounted as the smoke tightened its hold. He gasped for air, but each time was finding it more and more difficult to breathe.
Kariel stared, fear stricken.
“There, there,” said Shinzan, stroking her hair. “No need to be afraid. This won’t kill him. Fortunately for the general, your considerable…talents have put me in a rather forgiving mood.”
He turned to Hronso, whose eyes were beginning to bulge far out of his head. “You should really thank Kariel, old friend. You know how I detest failure. Even from you.”
In a sudden puff, the smoke vanished.
Hronso fell to his knees, gasping. “I…will…go…at…once.”
“That is no longer necessary,” the Emperor told him. “Events have already been set in motion. I have other work for you.”
Hronso struggled to his feet. “I am at your command, Your Majesty.”
Shinzan regarded him, his eyes shining with an unnatural red light. “Yes, I know you are.”
End Book One
Dragonvein
Book One
Copyright © Brian D. Anderson 2015
Published by Longfire Press
Names, characters and incidents depicted in this book are products of the author’s imagination, or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author or the publisher.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means whatsoever, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission from the publisher and/or author.
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