Tal turned to Aelyn. "Is it true? Did he release you?"
The mage looked as if he swallowed a particularly troublesome piece of meat. "Yes," he answered reluctantly. "As well as leading us here to aid in your rescue."
Tal nodded and looked back to Pim. If even Aelyn, the most skeptical man he had ever met, believed that to be the Soulstealer's intentions, Tal had no choice but to accept it.
"Very well, Pim. Against all wisdom, I believe you."
Relief flooded Pim's expression. "That is most welcome." The fell sorcerer straightened, seeming bolstered by Tal's declaration of belief, as he looked around at the others. "I know you all must be weary after contending with Hashele and her three golems; you truly are marvelous creatures to survive! But I must whisk you away immediately. I may lend you temporary protection, but you are not truly safe and welcome within the palace until you have the blessing of its keeper."
"Its keeper," Ashelia repeated. "You mean the Sun Emperor."
The Extinguished nodded. "He is most eager to meet you. You most of all, Tal, though he has heard much of—" Pim cut off, frowning as he scanned their party. "But where is Kaleras the Impervious?"
Tal clenched his jaw. He felt the eyes of the others on him. But try as he might, he could not hide his fresh wave of emotion.
"He fell," Tal said at length.
Pim pursed his lips. "And I had looked forward to conversing with him. Such a potent adversary he has been all these years! But even the mightiest must fall eventually, and Kaleras was growing no younger."
Anger flared in Tal at Pim's callousness, and the sorcery burned brighter in his blood. Yet as swiftly as it rose, he tamped it back down. Now was not the time to widen the divisions between them. He needed to hear Pim out — and his liege lord.
"Yes," Tal finally said. "Later, we will give him a proper burial. But you are right. It is high time we met with your Emperor."
"High time," Pim agreed. Caution remained in his eyes, as if sensing he had toed a line. But the Extinguished only turned and wrenched open the door.
"Follow me," he called briskly over his shoulder. "His Imperial Majesty awaits."
One Last Gamble
Garin eyed the palace guards as he and his companions walked between them. Next to him, Wren gave them a defiant look that betrayed how much she shared his unease.
Too late for that now, he chided himself. You've already stepped in the crocodile's mouth, as they say back home.
It was a short distance from the ruined red chamber to the grand double doors of the Sun Emperor's throne room, yet guards lined the entire length of the purple carpet two ranks deep. Flinty eyes stared out from their helmets, each pair shaped differently according to their respective Bloodline. No doubt they wondered what these dirty Reachfolk were doing being granted an audience with "His Imperial Majesty."
Truth be told, it was a strange twist of circumstances. Just hours before, they had been confined to the dungeons, and even more recently, they had fought for their lives against one of Yuldor's servants. Now, they were almost being treated as honored guests.
Still, after all they had been through, it was the least the Sun Emperor could do.
As he stared up at the gargantuan gilded doors, he wondered what the Emperor would look like. A wizened old man, he mused, with a long white beard, bundled up in robes that can't hide his spare frame. Surely the monarch of all the East and this sprawling palace had to be a distinguished elder, shrewd and experienced after years of confounding the western states.
A bit like Kaleras, I suppose.
Garin picked at the thought like a splinter in his skin, trying to pry it away and failing. Only the danger of the moment, larger than any grief, could temporarily smother it.
They reached the mammoth doors, where four guards labored at cranks on either side to slowly pry them open. Garin practically danced from foot to foot as they waited for the doors to part wide enough for their company to slip through. Despite feeling woozy from all their recent travails, a giddiness filled him now. Whether peril or a potent ally awaited them, he was eager to be done with this and know if this alliance was a lie or improbably true.
Finally, the doors opened, and Pim led their small party through. Tal, Ashelia, and Rolan followed on the Soulstealer's heels, while Aelyn, Falcon, and Helnor went after. Garin and Wren entered last. Even before they stepped clear of the doorway, the cranks began turning again, closing the huge doors behind. The message was clear: there would be no departing except by the Emperor's orders.
The grandeur of the throne room soon distracted him from his anxiety. Crystalline windows shimmered with golden evening light along every wall. Adding to the illumination were braziers lining the carpet that dissected the room, the fires plainly sorcerous by the hints of yellow and silver hues to the flames. The curved ceiling soared a hundred feet or more above their heads, far more expansive than the chambers of either King Aldric or Queen Geminia. The weight of all that air seemed to press down on his shoulders. Set in the middle of it was an opening stylized like a sun, its jagged shapes casting angular shadows across the gilded roof. As Garin lowered his gaze again, he found guards lining the walls, three dozen at least, as well as robed figures he guessed to be sorcerers.
Still, with Tal nearby, he thought their company remained more than a match for the monarch's retinue. Only by clinging to that hope could Garin keep moving forward.
His attention finally fell to the chair at the far end. The imperial throne, he saw, was the point toward which all the rest of the majestic chamber led. True to the Empire's name, a sun had been carved in the yellow stone, the points fanning out like a celestial crown above it. But Garin spent little time looking at the chair itself, but searching for the man who was supposed to be sitting in it. All he saw was a small, stout figure who had the shape of a slightly chubby child. He frowned, squinting at the person as they neared, and wondering if this was some strange, horrid joke being played on them.
Only as he saw the spangle of the bejeweled diadem atop the figure's head did he realize this was no jape. He stared upon the Sun Emperor himself.
A gnome, he marveled. Somehow, he had thought the Empire would be led by a tall, distinguished man — a human, most likely. But why not a gnome? From all he'd seen, the stature of a man had never held sway over the strength and skill of his mind.
Still, he hardly knew what to make of the Emperor of the East. Like the few other gnomes he had met, the monarch's skin seemed a pale tan, though it was difficult to say exactly what hue, for the golden aspect of a sun was painted over his face. His robes were silver decorated with violet thread, and they seemed a boy's smock on his stout body. The throne was so large his legs would have dangled off the edge had there not been an ornate set of wooden steps on which he rested his royal feet.
At last, they reached the end of the carpet and stood before the little monarch. The Sun Emperor seemed to constantly twitch, like a colony of ants crawled up his robes and bit him all over. Garin wondered if they should bow, or kneel, or prostrate themselves before this ruler. Even the late Queen Geminia, kind and gentle-hearted as she was, had always seemed to crave some measure of decorum and recognition of her status. He could imagine the sovereign of an aggressive empire would desire submissiveness all the more. But while Pim gave a short bow, Tal made no indication of respect, nor did the others. Garin firmed his shaky knees and kept his chin high.
"Your Imperial Brilliance," Pim said in the Reachtongue, his words garnered with obsequious flattery. "I bring before you one you have long looked forward to meeting. I present Tal Harrenfel of the Westreach, infamous far and wide as the Widowmaker, the Puppet, and the Scourge."
Garin expected Tal to pay the monarch some respect now. But still, his old mentor remained stubbornly erect.
"Your Imperial Majesty," Tal said, his voice worn, but firm with resolve as it echoed through the cavernous chamber. "Zyrl Netherstar. Forgive our appearance — and our stench. We have come a long way and
endured much in your most-welcoming imperium."
Garin tried to hide his wince. He glanced sidelong at the guards and sorcerers flanking them. The crocodile's teeth are closing, he thought, and still, Tal insults our host.
He startled and looked back around as a high-pitched, pealing laugh broke out from the throne. It took Garin a moment to realize it came from the Emperor himself.
"Magebutcher!" the sovereign piped in lightly accented Reachtongue. "Devil Killer! Red Reaver! I have heard much about you, Tal Harrenfel, many names indeed. But Pearltongue promises to be the most false among them, it does!"
The Sun Emperor laughed again, and Garin began to worry his lip at all the depths that might be contained in that cackle.
Tal waited until the little Eastern ruler had indulged his mirth, all the while ignoring Ashelia's warning glances. He knew the risks he was taking, the possible peril he was placing all his companions in.
He knew, too, that he had to make the wager all the same.
When the Sun Emperor once more considered him with his wide, watery eyes, Tal continued in a level, even tone. "You have caught me at a time when all my pretty words are used up, Your Imperial Majesty. My companions and I have fought for our lives and lost one of our own. We are injured and weary to the bone. They have suffered in your dungeons—" he gestured to the others behind him "—and I have been tortured at the hands of one of your Chosen. So you must forgive me if I cut the courtly wordplay short and ask you bluntly: What do you want from us?"
The Sun Emperor watched Tal as the sound of his quarrelsome words faded into the corners of the chamber. For once, the monarch had grown still. Sorcery burned in Tal's veins, but he kept a tight leash on it as he waited for the response. The sorrow and fury inside him made him want to bring down the palace on this little man's head. Almost, he thought he could manage it.
But Pim had promised them an ally in Kavaugh. Tal meant to push that assertion to its limits, to discover if it could possibly be true.
As if it could no longer be repressed, one of the gnome's legs began to dance again, then the other. The smile spread over his gold-painted face as the Sun Emperor leaned forward.
"You are strong, Tal Harrenfel. My eyes have grown old and dim, but you shine brightly enough that even I can detect it. How I would fear to be my sorcerers, charged with protecting me from you!" The gnome chuckled, as if he had not the slightest concern for his life, nor any fear of Tal.
"But you asked for honesty," the Emperor continued, "and straightforward speech. And so I will make of you my request."
The gnome gestured, and Tal felt his blood burn in response to the sorcery suddenly filling the chamber. He braced himself, ready to strike down the sovereign at the first provocation. But as he examined the shimmer of sorcery extending in a sphere around their small conference, he recognized it for what it was. An orb of silence.
It seemed the Sun Emperor did not trust those who most closely guarded him.
The smile had faded from the Sun Emperor's face, and his dark eyes grew serious. "All I have heard of you has led me to send Inanis to find you. For I believe you are the only hope for the continuance of my people — nay, the very World himself."
Tal clenched his jaw and darted a look at Pim. He scarcely liked the look of satisfaction that played over the Soulstealer's features.
"What are you saying?" he demanded.
The Sun Emperor shook his head with a rueful smile. "I want you to kill our god, Tal Harrenfel. And I am willing to risk everything — my life, my people, my empire — to ensure you succeed."
Tal stared at the gnome for a long moment. Part of him wished the little monarch would burst out into another shrill laugh and claim it all as a jape. But though the Sun Emperor smiled, it had the strain of a man who had long held out against despair.
A smile I well recognize.
Tal glanced back at the party gathered behind him, his eyes briefly alighting on each of theirs. The emotions in their expressions mirrored his.
Ashelia, eyes swirling with fear as she clutched her son's shoulders before her, but her chin held aloft.
Rolan, trying to mirror his mother, though his hands fluttered nervously at his sides.
Helnor, the mighty man now endeavoring simply to remain upright, wearily resigned to the vagaries of fate.
Aelyn, lips twisted with a scorn that failed to hide his agitation, yet eyes burning with unquenchable determination.
Falcon, a bard far out of his depth, yet his eyes wide at the momentous occasion he bore witness to, the song already writing itself in his mind.
Wren, every muscle in her body clenched, as if she wished they stood before the Enemy himself and could be done with the entire business.
And Garin.
As he shared a look with the lad he had once claimed as his protégé, Tal wondered at all he had put him through, and, if he accepted this burden, how much more must inevitably fall on him. But as Garin held his gaze, Tal no longer saw the boy who had set out to earn his story among the stars. A young man stood there, grimly determined to see an arduous and unpleasant labor through to its bitter end. And as he looked upon him, Tal believed Garin had the strength to do just that.
Tal turned back to the Sun Emperor and reached for his wolf's smile. "Then let's gamble it all."
Epilogue: Destiny’s Burden
Deep in the belly of an empire, one long hostile and foreign, strode a man reborn, unbent and unbroken — whole but for the hollow purpose that wormed its way into his heart.
He had mastered himself. He had defeated another of the Enemy's servants. He had discovered allies in the most unexpected of places.
He feared it was not enough.
In the chamber where his father had fallen, he had glimpsed a power unlike any faced before.
An ancient force reaching for divinity. A god, striven and quartered.
Yet a god nonetheless.
He had thrown his sorcery against it, but his efforts had been for naught. Not even unbridled sorcery was enough to overcome his Enemy.
He was not his legend. He could not prevail.
Yet, as he walked beside his weary companions through gilded halls, he kept his chin high and a smile painted on his lips. He would not show fear. He would not show doubt.
He would not turn from his purpose. For only by attempting could he hope to succeed.
He was no god. But a deity had pleaded for his aid.
He was not enough.
He had to be.
In that same palace, both near and far from the man, a youth stared over a city and listened.
It was not the metropolis itself that he heard, but the Song that underlay it. It was a melancholic melody, a haunting harmony. It was a dirge for all that had been lost and all that would soon be sacrificed.
The young man listened and accepted the desolation into himself.
It contained a certain strength, this Song. As sorrow breaks, it also binds. He heard the World's pain. He heeded its Singers' agony.
It called to him, beckoning him toward an uncertain task.
The stars had long faded from his eyes. The youth did not seek glory or fame anymore. He was content with his mother-given name.
Now, a different dream drove him forward.
The young man closed his eyes and reached for the Worldsong surrounding him. He accepted the dragon that curled inside his skull, and all the pain and horror that came with him.
The youth had become more than a Listener.
He began to sing his own song.
Thanks for Reading!
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J.D.L. Rosell
Conclude the Quest…
Don't miss the sweeping conclusion to Tal, Garin, and their companions' quest — tap here to preorder A God's Plea!
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Books by J.D.L. Rosell
(Tap here to be notified of future releases)
Legend of Tal
1. A King's Bargain
2. A Queen's Command
3. An Emperor's Gamble
4. A God's Plea
Ranger of the Titan Wilds
1. Ranger's Rebellion
The Runewar Saga
1. The Throne of Ice & Ash
2. The Crown of Fire & Fury
The Famine Cycle
1. Whispers of Ruin
2. Echoes of Chaos
3. Requiem of Silence
Secret Seller (Prequel)
The Phantom Heist (Novella)
Godslayer Rising
1. Catalyst
2. Champion
3. Heretic
Acknowledgments
A towering round of applause to:
Kaitlyn — my loving wife, my merciless first reader, and my buttress against the vagaries of publishing. I'm incredibly lucky to have you.
An Emperor's Gamble (Legend of Tal: Book 3) Page 42
