by Matt Moss
Victor saw her gliding down the steps toward him and her beauty stole his breath away. When she ran into his open arms, he closed his eyes and held her tight, lost in a moment that seemed an eternity. She always did that to him; made time stop when they fell into each other’s embrace.
She pulled away and gazed into his eyes, her face wet with tears that streamed down her cheeks.
He wiped them away and caressed her face. Without saying a word, she smiled, took his hand, and led him up the steps and into the palace as the thunderous applause continued behind them.
Sarie lie on the king’s bed, exhausted. Victor rolled away from her, seeming quite satisfied. He stood as the evening sun broke through the balcony window, lighting his naked body with its glow. He walked to the balcony and overlooked his city, unashamed of his nudity.
She walked to him and pressed her body to his.
“It’s finished, my love,” she said, wrapping her arms around him. “You’ve won.”
“No, my dear,” he said, his voice raspy and distorted from the wound delivered by Lucian. He touched her hand. “It has only just begun.”
She pulled away and moved beside him to gaze into his magnificent eyes.
“What do you mean it’s only just begun? I thought you destroyed the Order.”
“The Order was a small bump in the road. Only after there is complete control will it be finished.” He narrowed his gaze on the horizon.
She frowned at that, thinking his plan was complete and they could put everything behind them. All she wanted was to live free and in peace, no longer hiding in the shadows. “You have the loyalty of the townsfolk, Victor. You have their complete trust.”
He looked her in the eye. “It’s not enough.”
She met his gaze before turning her eye to the city.
“I want the world,” he said.
Sarie walked to the railing and placed her hands there as she ran impossible thoughts through her head. She had never been surrounded by this much power. They were in the king’s palace for God’s sake! Victor, king and high priest of the Religion. This had never been heard of before in the history of the world.
What have I gotten myself into? she thought.
“As always, I am yours in everything,” she said.
He walked to her and ran a hand over the small of her back.
“I know, my dear. It is time for you to take center stage.”
She cocked her head at that with a look of puzzlement. “What do you mean? Am I to play the role of Oracle?”
He smiled. “You will prophesy the destruction of an independent city if they and the rest of the kingdom do not pay taxes to the crown. I will send Karn to escort a messenger to Greenehaven tomorrow to deliver that message. I hear that the Season is about to start and the gladiators will once again do battle in the arena. Pity, I’ll miss the show,” he mused.
“Are they to pay taxes to the crown, or to the Religion?” she asked.
He ran his fingers through her hair. “It is one in the same. The new tax increase will be to fuel the King’s Generosity — to provide for the less fortunate. Those who oppose the tax will bring destruction upon their own heads.”
She looked down. “There will be those who oppose.”
“Then they will burn.”
She snapped her gaze to him. “Is this not enough!” she said hotly, outstretching an arm over the city. “Why do you need more?”
He put his hands on the rail and turned away. She stormed back into the room, heard him sigh, and felt him move to follow her.
“There must be order!” he said. “There must be a God!”
“You don’t believe in God?” she shot back, turning to him.
“I will become God!” he spat and gripped her. “I will be more real than any God has ever been!”
She stiffened in his grasp and saw the man possessed with power. Part of her was afraid, but most of her was filled with intrigue and excitement, despite the madness of it all.
She pressed her lips against his and passionately fell into his embrace.
His nails scored her back as he stole the breath from her lungs.
She pulled away, gasping.
“The world will make way for the Religion. I’ll carve a path in blood if I have to,” he swore.
A chill ran down her spine.
“Master,” she said with a slight bow.
He kissed her on the head, then walked back to the balcony and overlooked his kingdom.
FIVE
Governor Maximus sat at the head of the large, oaken table, awaiting his general’s presence to begin the briefing. Gathered around were all seven governors from each of the independent cities. They were in the war room — the place where Maximus devised countless victories.
Maximus sized each man up, noting the fine attire and the gold jewelry that was meticulously placed about their fingers and necks. Most were of middle age and looked as though they hadn’t suffered hard times like the rest of the kingdom had over the last few years. Turning his head to the side, he overlooked the men’s annoyed demeanor upon being called on such a short notice. He took a deep breath and stilled his mind, ignoring the murmurs that came from around the table.
The doors to the war room flew open and general Brandon entered, his helm cradled in his arms below the rank on his uniform. He dressed formal to fit the occasion; a fine linen tunic and fancy trousers that were tucked into a barely used pair of boots.
A chorus of chairs sang as they slid against the stone floor as the governors stood, each anxiously awaiting news from the capital.
The general made his way to Maximus and stood at attention.
“Sir,” general Brandon saluted.
“General,” Maximus greeted. “Please, have a seat.” He motioned Brandon with his hand.
“Thank you, sir.”
“How is your pregnant wife?”
A few men scoffed at the question. Maximus glared at them in return.
General Brandon adjusted in his seat and smiled at Maximus. “She’s well, sir. Thank you. A bit tired, but that’s to be expected.”
Governor Maximus grinned. “Indeed, general. I know it all too well. I have five children myself.”
“And how are they faring?”
“Growing every day,” Maximus said.
Brandon looked away for a moment. “I pray that all goes well for my wife. She has been uncommonly sick as of late.”
“How far along is she?” Maximus asked after noticing the worried look on the general’s face.
“Oh, come on with it,” Hebron spat. The governor of Greenehaven was a man of little patience. “Let’s have the report!”
Maximus slammed his fist on the table. “Whose house are you in, Hebron?” He eyed the governor, checking his allegiance. “Or do you need a painful reminder?”
Hebron’s snarl quickly faded and he looked down, averting the amused looks from the others at his expense.
“That’s what I thought,” Maximus said. “You still owe me. The time may come sooner than later that I call upon that debt.”
“This is not the place to discuss such matters!” Hebron said, glaring at Maximus.
Maximus raised his hands and shook his head in a helpless motion. “There is never a good time to talk about debts. Especially when it’s a pact among brothers.”
Hebron, the younger brother to Maximus, though looking the older when compared, stood and threw the chair back against the stone floor. He glared contempt at Maximus before storming out of the room, leaving it in an awkward silence.
“Forgive my brother,” Maximus said after Hebron left, “he means well.”
A stifled chuckle came from around the table. Brandon took the opportunity to gaze at the weapons that decorated the walls of the legendary war room. Each had been taken from the kings, warlords, and emperors that had fallen to Maximus’s intuition and skilled prowess on the battlefield. Not many had the privilege to set eyes on such a collection of achievements as this
, and it was apparent that Brandon counted himself beyond fortunate to be this close to a man with such a mind — Maximus, governor of Stonebridge, head counsel of the independent cities, commander of the free army.
“General, the report please.” Maximus said, calling Brandon’s attention back to the matter at hand.
General Brandon nodded and straightened himself before meeting the men’s gazes once more. “The Order has been destroyed. The Grand Highlands is no more.”
Gasps and whispers came from the governors as if they had been placing bets. Outside of the casual gossip and tales that came from the lips of traders and nomads, this news was the first official report.
Maximus grit his teeth, annoyed by the group’s actions. He wondered how much more he could tolerate them. He looked to Brandon. ”We heard the stories,” he said before looking to the window behind him, “but they were thought to be rumors.”
“It is true,” Brandon stated. “I rode up there shortly after the battle to see it for myself. Only the Lodge remains. The rest of the town was put to the torch.” The general glanced down, a horrified look suddenly appearing on his face.
Maximus saw the look. He’d seen it many times before. It was a look that told of things that should not be seen. ”What is it?” Maximus asked.
“Something happened there, sir,” the general said, his voice quivering slightly. “Something bad.”
“Go on.”
Brandon looked Maximus in the eye. “The land… changed. It was as if an earthquake shook the place to the core, leaving rocks and earth to cover the ground from the surrounding cliffs.”
Maximus rubbed his chin as he reclined, taking in this new information.
“What does that mean?” Atlas, the governor of Cartha, asked.
“I don’t know,” Brandon replied to the thin, older looking man, “but I’ve never seen anything like it.”
Each man looked around the room at one another in disbelief.
“This is the age of miracles,” Maximus said, his voice almost a whisper, though the entire room heard it. He stood and walked to the window that overlooked Stonebridge. Often times, he wondered why the governors of old built this keep high above the city instead of on level ground. Pride, he surmised — the fall of any great man or nation.
“Not long ago, a man in the capital called down fire and brimstone from the heavens. Never before had such a power been heard of,” Maximus said and folded his arms. “I know the Order has its secrets, and those secrets are kept from the ears and eyes of the world, but the members here in Stonebridge have never heard of the likes of this before. I trust them, they are good men. If they knew this power existed, then I would know.” He walked back to the table and placed both palms down, meeting the men’s eyes. “First the attack on the capital. Now this at the Grand Highlands.”
Silence hung in the room.
“Damnit!” Butch said, governor of Knoxville. “I wish King George were here.”
“The king is gone, but he is not forgotten,” Maximus stated. “Who he was and what he stood for was fair and just. Let us remember that.”
“He was a good man. A just man,” Butch added.
Griffin, the governor of Red Bluff, cocked an eyebrow at that. “Was he?” he asked. “He increased the taxes and converted to the Religion, despite all of our contentions. He couldn’t even control his own people. Kingsport was on the verge of collapse!”
Ken, the governor of Mills River, stood. “The people are beginning to revolt all over the kingdom due to the taxation. Something must be done!”
Others raised their voice in agreement and the room quickly became out of control as the governors began to argue about what the best plan of action would be.
Maximus rubbed his head, annoyed by them all. “Enough!” he commanded. Every man turned to him in shock, some with scowls at the outburst.
“Yes, everything has gone to hell,” Maximus said, standing. “The Order is no more. Without them, we are at a loss for guidance and protection. The king is dead. The high priest now sits in his place and the Religion is beginning to spread across the land.” Maximus eyed each man. “Mark my words, the Religion will not stop until it has taken over all of our lives and invaded our homes.”
Atlas leaned forward in his chair and folded his hands. “We must vote upon who of us will be king.”
The statement caused each man to pause. Never before had they needed to vote on a king; the lineage passed from father to son. But King George birthed no heir, and by law, the governors were to vote upon his successor. The room hushed as each of the men looked to one another. Some were fit to rule, and some thought themselves fit to rule.
Maximus broke the silence. “We will save that for another time. We have more important matters to discuss at the moment.”
“I’ve heard the high priest has an oracle,” Butch said.
“Aye, I’ve heard the same,” Griffin agreed, running a hand down his dark, stringy beard. “Some say that she saw the demise of the Order.”
“She can see herself buggered six ways from Sunday,” Butch said. “Only one who ever had the Sight was the Prophet.”
“Agreed,” Ken said and slapped the table.
Griffin stood. “Still, something has to change. Maybe the Religion is what we need.”
The room went silent as each held their own opinion on the matter, but were waiting for the others to express theirs.
“I hold to the Faith,” Atlas said unconvincingly, rubbing a hand alongside his face as if he was bored of the whole ordeal.
“As do I,” General Brandon said as he stood.
Maximus stood beside him in agreement. “As do I.”
The rest of the men held their tongues, each reserved to make a claim.
“Thank you, general Brandon for your report. This meeting is adjourned,” Maximus said and looked around the room, gauging the response.
“What about the vote?” Griffin asked.
Maximus waved him off. “Another time. First, go back to your cities and address the people. Express to them that we do not condone the king’s taxes or the spread of this new Religion. Reassure them that the independent cities and its free people have been, and will always, remain free.”
The men voiced their agreement and stood to leave. Atlas was the first to depart, Griffin closely by his side, both whispering as they began to exit the room.
Maximus took note of the two. ”Before you all leave, let me remind each of you to judge carefully in the next choices you make. We all govern ourselves and our people in the manner in which we see fit.”
Atlas stopped. ”Aye, Maximus, we do,” he said, turning to meet Maximus’s eye. A wry grin appeared on his sharp, tanned face. “And we let fate do the rest.”
“Fate will meet us in time, but we decide when,” Maximus replied, narrowing his eyes at Atlas. “And we decide how we will meet it.”
Atlas turned and exited the room with Griffin, followed by the rest of the governors and general Brandon.
Maximus walked to the door and eased it shut. He went around the room to each chair and meticulously moved them back under the table, leaving an equal amount of space between each one. His seat was the last to slowly slide back into its place. The room, now empty, felt as it should be to him. He preferred his own company — even more so when making decisions that could sway the fate of others.
His eyes drifted around the room before locking onto a sword that hung on the far wall. It was placed there many years ago after Maximus had taken it from an evil emperor who was bent on ruling the world. The emperor marched his massive army from a desert land, far away to the south, and tried to overthrow the kingdom. With cunning and strategic prowess, Maximus led the free army to victory over the invading army without the aid of the king or the Order.
That was many years ago, and I have grown old, Maximus thought. He pulled the curved blade and tested its edge, drawing a thin line of blood from his thumb.
Still sharp. He turned the ste
el in his hand and felt the weight of it, remembering what the thrill of battle felt like. He missed it.
Maybe I still have one more fight in me.
He strode the balcony with sword in hand and took in Stonebridge — the sights, the sounds, the smells. This was his city. He loved it along with its people. He looked to the horizon, past the busy streets and the buildings that lined them. Past the docks along the coastline that were filled with boats, all yearning to belong to the open sea once again.
He could feel a war coming — like a rolling thunder in the distance, unbeknownst to the world that would soon lie in its wake. Part of him was unsure of the future and what it held. The uncertainty felt strange to him, as he was one to always be in control of his senses. His ability to govern that which was in his power, including his city, always gave him confidence in the outcome, no matter what fate brought to his doorsteps.
But this was different. He could feel it. This would be a war that would shake the foundation of the world.
Thank you. He closed his eyes. Fate, it seems, finds me worthy enough to live in such a time as this. I will meet this in full, and give my all — my life if need be — this I swear.
He looked up into the clear blue sky and chuckled to himself.
It’s a good thing, though, that I’m not a betting man.
SIX
Arkin walked into Hayfork seven days later covered with the dust and smell from the road. He took his time on the journey, trying to wrap his head around everything that had happened recently, but still failing to come to terms with it. On his travel, he would make camp hours before the sun set to clear his mind and replenish his strength on whatever game he was fortunate enough to catch that day. On the third day, he was lucky enough to forage a large supply of mushrooms, roots, and berries to fuel his trip.
He strode down the dirt rode to his aunt Clara’s inn as the warm sun of late spring warmed his body. His spirit was lifted upon seeing the familiar town where he had spent countless summers as a child, exploring and getting into trouble with his cousin Malik.
