by S D Simper
“For the sake of us all, yes.”
“What use is a corpse to you?”
Lunestra watched with a motherly demeanor, but suspicion marred her gaze. “The corpses of monsters can be used for great evil. We seek to destroy her, once and for all. We would burn her, scatter the remains, and assure she’s left to rest. She was dear to you, Lady Flowridia. The final gift you can give your friend is peace.”
The implication, the hope of Ayla’s return, reopened wounds Flowridia had never quite allowed to heal, but that paled to the sudden spike in fury at Lunestra’s choice in words. “My what?”
“Your attachment to Ayla was made quite clear at our last meeting.”
Flowridia forced a smile. “You would manipulate my apparent friendship for your own gain?”
“Lady Flowridia, this is for no one’s gain—only the safety of the world. I understand that the bonds of friendship are complicated at times, but you mustn’t let your feelings blind you toward what must be done.”
Flowridia set her jaw, forcing her breath to steady. “The body has been put to rest,” she said curtly, and her judgement knew she should stop there, say nothing more. But emotion forced her words. “Ayla Darkleaf was most assuredly not my friend, nor do I think she will ever truly be at peace because gods know I’m not either, but she’s mine and mine alone. If I choose to burn her and scatter her ashes, then the honor is mine. That’s what she was; she was mine.” She swallowed back tears. “And I was hers.”
Lunestra listened, a kindness Flowridia knew she didn’t deserve, then said, “I meant no offense. I didn’t realize there was flirtation between—”
“By every god!” Flowridia said, exasperation in her wounded words. “Surely you were there. You must have seen it or heard the tale—The Endless Night betraying the God of Order when I protected your orb, and then as she rose to stand between me and your own benevolent Goddess. Ayla Darkleaf gave her life for me. That isn’t flirtation. It isn’t a crass fuck for the sake of diplomacy—”
“Lady Flowridia, do you know what she was?”
Scourge of the Sun Elves. A mad scientist who tortured and skinned her victims alive. An accomplished seamstress who created books and shoes and all forms of macabre art to play out the wickedness of her broken mind. Chosen of Izthuni, with whom she slaughtered entire populaces.
To ask why was to cry out into a void.
“She was a monster,” Flowridia said, and for the first time, she accepted the poignant words, “who loved me with all her heart.” She stood up, realizing their discussion was assuredly over. “If you continue to follow me, I cannot account for your safety. Casvir knows you’re here.”
Their eyes met, and the compassion in Lunestra’s gaze threatened to shatter the resolve in Flowridia’s bitter heart. She could go with her. Break the contract, or perhaps join her after. The body was hers to do with as she pleased, and though she had laid it to rest, she recalled Tazel’s fear, and now Lunestra’s, that someone would bring her back, whether or not it be by Casvir’s hand. The Theocracy could scatter the ashes to the wind and guarantee it was done right.
But in the damning stretch of silence, a fundamental truth pierced her heart: Flowridia had not decided.
There, beyond the trees, were the glowing red eyes of Imperator Casvir watching her every move. Flowridia stepped out of their camp, Ana in tow, and disappeared into the forest.
Demitri stood near. She fell into the wolf’s side, and with her free arm she hugged his neck and kissed his cold nose.
“Did you find what you were looking for?” Casvir asked, his rumbling voice soft.
Flowridia nodded.
“I will speak to you back at our camp.”
He led them away, but Demitri bowed his neck down. Get on.
Flowridia stared at him oddly. “Me?”
Demitri’s golden eyes stared up. Get on, stupid.
Touched despite the slight, Flowridia climbed onto his back, finding she could stay on quite comfortably if she gripped the fur on the nape of his neck.
He caught up to Casvir’s enormous strides, more than capable of outpacing him.
* * *
At camp, Flowridia slid off Demitri’s back but kept Ana to her heart, clinging to the offered comfort.
“As you requested,” Casvir said, “I watched over your encounter with the Theocracy.”
The statement lingered, and Flowridia looked away, keeping her focus on the warming crystal instead of the scrutinizing gaze of Casvir. “I’m a fool,” she whispered.
“I was quite impressed by your diplomacy, actually. Everything was beautifully handled, until your tantrum at the end.”
“Your words have been particularly biting lately.” Flowridia sat beside the crystal, warming her chilled form.
Casvir sat beside her, near enough that their knees brushed as he settled. “People will say far worse to you. For her to imply that you and Ayla were merely friends was a misunderstanding; imagine if she had been trying to insult you.”
“I can handle insults.”
“But not for people to presume your virtue?”
She shook her head sharply. “I don’t care what they say about my virtue. I know the truth, and that’s enough for me. Let them say what rumors they will, that Lady Flowridia, Grand Diplomat of Staelash, spreads her legs for any man or monarch who might sign a treaty with her.” She stared at the crystal, the display of flickering orange and yellow soothing to her frustrated thoughts. “But how dare they discount the woman I loved.”
“News did not spread wide of your relationship with Ayla. Only your ruling council knew the extent of it.”
Flowridia shook her head. “What they knew, they wish they could have made disappear.”
Behind her, Demitri’s warmth settled against her back, and Flowridia relaxed against him. She heard his voice in her head. I know you loved her. And for all her oddities, I know she loved you too.
“Thank you, Demitri,” Flowridia whispered. Her blinking grew heavy.
Casvir looked between them, watching their interaction. “People fear what they do not understand. Ayla was a mystery, perhaps to all except you.”
“I can’t say I ever understood her. But I knew her heart.” Tears welled in her eyes. “Like a fool, I trusted her. For all her wicked intentions, I loved her. I know I should have stayed away, but when she begged for my forgiveness, I gave it—” Flowridia bit her lip to ward away the threatened tears. But all the memories of joy and love, of Ayla’s smile and laugh and gentle touch, came to her thoughts, and she heard her breath hitch. “I gave it because she had changed. You were right, Casvir—she was growing and changing her ways to be someone she thought was worthy of me. Perhaps she was still a monster, but I so dearly loved the woman she was becoming. I don’t understand it, but I did something right by her.”
“You did,” came Casvir’s gentle reply.
“I miss her so much,” Flowridia said, tears steadily falling. “And I don’t want the world to dismiss us. When they think of me, let them think of her. The world thinks I should be ashamed of her; I would keep her by my side forever and always if I could.”
“Flowridia,” Casvir said, “if it truly is your deepest desire, you know I will pour my resources into finding a way to bring her back.”
Flowridia shook her head. “I can offer myself for her return, but I cannot sign her to you. She died to escape that fate. It has to be me who does it—alone.” Her head fell into her hands as she squeezed her eyes shut. “But what wounds me the most is she still died a monster. She damned the world to the God of Order for the chance to live with me but betrayed him to save my life.” She saw the scene behind her eyes, of The Endless Night cradling her before the great titan, recalled the cold touch and bitter scream. “The world is better without her.”
“Are you?”
A quiet sob escaped her lips. With one hand, she tried in vain to wipe away the tears spilling down her face. “You said I was the one redeeming trait you
ever knew in her,” she said, calm despite her continued tears. “Whereas I think for me, she’ll damn me to hell.”
Casvir’s clawed hand on her back startled her, but not as much as his words. “Then damn yourself to hell. Damn yourself, and have no regrets. Make certain every demon fears your name before you get there.”
Flowridia stared at him, red-rimmed eyes wide.
“Whatever paths you choose, someone will hate you. Only be certain that someone is not you.” A pause, and his expression softened. Never had she seen so genuine a gaze on the oft stoic imperator. “You are capable of greatness, Flowridia. I have seen it. Whatever you choose, you will have my support. If this is your greatest desire, be relentless. Be unyielding. You will find your power on the way.”
Flowridia’s gaze fell back to the crystal, her tears finally slowing. A bit of warmth seeped through the cracks of her bitter heart. A hint of a smile quirked at her lip. “Thank you, Casvir.”
A comfortable silence settled between them. Casvir soon removed his hand. “The hour grows late. I would give you a lesson if you desire, but I understand if you are exhausted.”
“I think a distraction would be better than to try and sleep.”
Casvir stood and offered a hand. “Then, come.”
She accepted.
The forest grew dark, the air thick with trees and fog. Flowridia’s horse struggled through the underbrush, its skeletal legs catching among the ferns and greenery. She kept Ana safe in her bag and cast her gaze back every minute to make certain Demitri still followed.
Beside her, Casvir seemed to have no trouble, but still his silhouette disappeared behind the mist, blinking in and out of sight like a candle.
Deeper, they rode. Spots of sunlight grew increasingly rare. Flowridia wondered what sort of creatures might follow them had Casvir not scared away all the living.
Evening came, and when Flowridia could barely see the horse’s head from darkness and mist, Casvir proclaimed they would stop.
Flowridia glanced around at the trees and down to the brush below. “There’s nowhere to camp. The plants are too thick.”
“You will clear them.”
Her bare feet touched wet earth, the cold mud and grass coating her like a moist bandage. She shuddered at the sensation. “With my spear?”
“With necromancy. Absorb their life.”
Flowridia felt his scrutinizing gaze absorb every motion, every thought as she knelt on the ground and placed her hand onto the damp earth. Life pulsed, from fungal growths to roots and greenery, and her blood itched to steal it.
The impulse surprised her. Flowridia breathed out a steadying sigh, letting her thoughts clear, her mind focusing on the empty void. She felt energy flow within her and seep from her pores, watching in amazement when a purple mist rose from her skin. She blew out a breath, a visible cloud billowing out to choke the leaves beside her face.
Flowridia breathed deep. The cloud emanated; the surrounding life withered. She felt the energy cry out as it resisted her touch, but not for long. It seeped into her blood and bones, life threatening to burst from the seams. Oh, it was exhilarating, this absorption of energy.
“Flowridia, stop.”
Flowridia opened her eyes, gasping when she realized what she’d done. The forest, once green and brown and damp, now stood charred, black. Energy still swirled in her hands, draining life from the air. The trees had withered, threatening to fall.
Death spread far and wide, far larger than they needed for camp. Flowridia brought her hand to cover her mouth.
“Impressive,” Casvir said. “But to let pleasure dictate your actions is weakness. Greater spellcasters than you have fallen prey to pursuits of pleasure and addiction.”
Stunned, Flowridia found she could form no words, though a blush did burn at her cheeks.
“Keep your indulgence in check.”
Casvir said nothing more and instead began unloading the horses.
Later, she sat on her bedroll with Demitri behind her. Ana sniffed and batted at the heavy crystal warming their camp.
“Casvir,” she whispered, and the De’Sindai king glanced up from his reading. “Do you know if we’re close?”
“I sense that your orb may be in these woods. The black orb crackles, even as I sit here.”
Very close, then. “Where are we?”
Instead of speaking, Casvir shut his book and withdrew a new one from the pile. Maps of the New World, it said, and he beckoned for her to sit beside him.
Her dress brushed against his armor, fabric singing against metal. His clawed finger tapped the spot labeled ‘Nox’Kartha’ before sliding it northwest. Over a mountain pass, over a small dot with the title ‘Wood’s End,’ and past the borders of the tyrant’s kingdom before settling on an outcropping of trees. “Verity Forest,” Casvir said. “An ancient and unchartered place. Kingdoms have tried and failed to settle it; they say something haunts the mist. Tomorrow, we will spend time searching.”
So the orb they sought was close indeed. She wondered if it reacted too.
Were it wielded, did the other sense their presence?
* * *
She slept peacefully.
Flowridia awoke to the singing of birds. The light barely broke through the line of trees, but when she sat up, she saw that the damage she had inflicted to the forest had nearly healed; only the immediate area of their camp showed signs of blight. Upon the ground sprouted new life—growing much more rapidly than it should have in its natural state.
“How did this happen?” she whispered, and when Demitri stirred, he looked about, as confused as she.
Casvir glanced up from his book. “My orb fostered a land of death; perhaps the orb here bears a different sort of influence.”
They quickly cleared their camp and continued onward. He untied the horses and simply led them with his hands. “Should danger come, stand behind me. Your body is much more fragile than mine.”
Demitri poked her with his nose. Stand behind me too.
Despite the affirmations, Flowridia felt a rise of apprehension in her stomach.
They trekked through the faint light of morning. She hugged Ana close to her body and kept a hand in Demitri’s fur, letting him lead her forward as they followed Casvir.
“Where are we going?” she whispered.
“The orb speaks as we move this direction.”
Flowridia heard rustling from beside them. She looked into the dark woods and saw nothing, yet leaves bent unnaturally. Dirt shifted.
She stopped, letting her hand untangle from Demitri’s fur as she stared into the forest. Her mind cleared, and she focused her sight, an adage from Etolié whispering through her head: “Illusions are only as real as you believe them to be.”
For half a moment, the shimmered outline of something large and reptilian stared back from the trees. Flowridia gasped, aware of how Casvir and Demitri both stopped and stared, but she took a cautious step forward, the image becoming clear once again.
She saw the dragon sequestered in the woods, how it followed, how it shied as she reached forward. Her judgement said to run, yet as she took in the sight of those green scales laden with grass-like growths, of the plants springing forth from the dragon’s body, how could she be afraid when flowers were woven into her own hair? The eyes meeting hers were intelligent, inquisitive, and when she offered a hand, it dipped a head down to meet it.
Embedded in its chest, amidst the foliage of plant-like growths, an orb shone, its color shifting in various shades of green.
Their bodies did not touch, but Flowridia felt warm air as the dragon sniffed. “Hello.” She smiled gently. “Casvir,” she continued, keeping her tone serene, “we have a shy friend following us. If you look closely, I think you’ll see.”
Casvir appeared beside her, and the dragon flinched, showing teeth when it saw the black orb in his hand. In his other, Casvir’s mace appeared, and Flowridia immediately moved to stand between them. “No. No fighting.”
/> “And how do you intend to steal this dragon’s orb?” he said, his voice dangerous and calm. “Through flattery?”
“Let me try. Please,” she said, and when he stepped back, she turned to the gargantuan creature standing before her. “He makes you nervous.”
The dragon said nothing, merely stared as Casvir continued taking cautious steps backward.
“His intentions are good,” Flowridia said kindly, and though she knew it was a lie, she prayed the dragon didn’t. “And so are mine. My name is Flowridia, and I am the Grand Diplomat of Staelash. Do you have a name?”
The dragon faced her, stance still prepared to fight.
One snap of its jaws, and Flowridia would be dead. Demitri came up beside her, his presence inoffensive to the dragon. “Do you sense the other orbs?”
The dragon said nothing, but its stare appeared enraptured by her words.
“There is a man who seeks to steal them, and he’ll use them to rip the worlds apart. My friends and I are trying to stop him, but to do that we have to collect them before he does.”
The dragon sat back, revealing its chest and the orb protruding from it as it looked down from above the tree line. Flowridia recalled reading of dragons, hearing of their purpose, enlisted by the Old Gods to aid in balancing the world, and a question fell from her lips. “Are you the last of your kind?”
Perhaps it didn’t know. What awareness would a dragon have toward others a thousand miles away?
“You were given a task, and you’ve performed it with honor,” Flowridia continued. “For ten thousand years you’ve protected that orb.” Maybe more, she thought, but she wouldn’t make claims she couldn’t verify. “We need it to save the worlds.”
And then, clear as the breeze on the leaves, came a voice, soothing yet monstrous. The dragon’s mouth moved, its tongue articulating in perfect Solviran Common. “In the time before the New Gods, I was granted a name. You may speak it. I am Valeuron.”
“Valeuron,” Flowridia whispered, sensing the innate majesty of it. “It’s a beautiful name.”
