by Dante King
By the time we’d reached the drawbridge of the Forbidden Palace, looming ahead of us like a vast mountain, we’d drawn a crowd of thousands. The masses were all eager and jostling for a look at the “tame” saber-toothed panthers and the jaw-droppingly beautiful foreign acrobats: Anna-Lucielle and Yumo. The latter had the Beauty Mirror hidden in one of her pockets, so her words were bolstered with Charm magic, and had convinced everyone who heard them and saw us that we were the real deal.
Now that our exotic-looking entourage had reached the drawbridge, I called Anna-Lucielle over to the front. The guards were dressed in the standard yellow and gold armor, with those grotesque and menacing full-face helms. They crossed their long halberds in front of us, preventing us from stepping onto the drawbridge.
The lead guard growled at Yumo and barked something in Yengish. My hand dropped to my waist, where I’d concealed Grave Oath. It looked like we might have to fight these guards. Unfortunately, we also had a horde of innocent civilians behind us, and they would likely attack us. Sure, I could probably kill a hundred civilians with a few cracks of my kusarigama, then resurrect them as undead, but I’d only do that if absolutely necessary.
It didn’t prove necessary. Yumo, using the magic of the Charm mirror and a rather intoxicating spell from Anna-Lucielle, convinced the guards to let us through. Anna-Lucielle’s hands were surrounded by a subtle pink aura that smelled of lilacs.
The guards uncrossed their halberds and allowed us onto the drawbridge, but once my party and the panthers had passed by them, they crossed their halberds again, preventing any of the gawking mob from following us.
Anna-Lucielle and Yumo pulled the same trick on the guards at the other end of the drawbridge, and then on the dozen guards who manned the main gates to the Forbidden Palace beyond that. After only a few more strides, we were inside the palace grounds.
Describing the Forbidden Palace as spectacular was the understatement of the century. Not even the Holy City inside Luminescent Spires back in Prand boasted this kind of lavish opulence. Once we were inside the twenty-foot-high walls, it was as if we’d stepped into another world.
Gone was the hustle and bustle of the city, with its massive crowds, thousands of vendors and markets, its swirling smells and restless energy. This place was tranquility incarnate. Meticulously sculpted gardens were filled with tame, colorful birds of all kinds, and crystal-clear water flowed through streams and plunged down little manmade cascades into ponds full of white and orange coy fish. Shrubs and trees, trimmed into pleasing shapes by master artists, created a sense of balance and serenity. Sand and stone gardens, spanned by ornamental wooden bridges, had intricate patterns raked in the sand, patterns one could contemplate for hours. Colorful pavilions stood here and there, and I imagined in better times they’d be filled with gorgeous concubines entertaining the Emperor and his guests.
Hell, this was the kind of place I could live in when all my questing was over. I banked the thought for the future.
We walked through the deserted gardens and reached the entrance to one of the largest palace buildings. Two massive wooden doors, painted red with ornate gold fittings, barred our way. There were no guards stationed by the doors, oddly enough, so I walked up to one, feeling like a mouse must feel when approaching a human-sized door, and bashed on it with my fist a few times. The sound produced was a deep, booming echo, and it resounded through the chamber beyond. We waited a while, but there was no response. I hammered on the door again, and still nobody came.
I turned to the others. “Do you think my Plague Fists could punch through this wood?”
Before they could answer, there was a great creak behind me. When I turned back around, I saw a massive Yengish warrior, still dwarfed by the simple fact of standing in that doorway. His armor was similar to the style of the other Yengish soldiers, but it was far more elaborate and ornate. The red breastplate was fashioned into the snarling face of a saber-toothed panther, his red shoulder pauldrons like huge steel panther paws with claws bared. He had removed his helmet, which was also styled to look like the face of a panther. His long hair was unlike most Yengish soldiers, having been neither cut nor styles. The flowing strands were more gray than black, as were his long mustaches. His broad, brutish face was lined with both scars and wrinkles. He was built far more like a northern barbarian than a Yengishman, and was obviously a warrior of great prowess and important rank.
“Who are you, and how did you get in here?” he growled in the Common Tongue. “Speak quickly, scum, or I’ll cut you foreign peasants and those filthy beasts to shreds.”
Yumo and Anna-Lucielle tried to employ their “traveling circus invited by the Emperor” tactic on the man, but he seemed to be Fated, and resisted both the Beauty Mirror and Anna-Lucielle’s Charm magic.
“That’s a steaming pile of mogwai shit.” From a sheath on his back, he drew a curved exotic sword the size of a claymore. He inhaled through his mouth and exhaled through his nostrils, a cloud of steam pouring from both orifices. The gigantic curved blade glowed a deep crimson, and tongues of flame ignited along its gleaming edge.
A Fated soldier with an enchanted weapon. Well, this would be interesting.
Chapter Twenty-Six
I stepped forward and pulled a cord on my colorful entertainer’s robes. The garments fell from my body, and I now stood before the huge warrior in my assassin’s armor. In a flash, Grave Oath was in my left hand and my kusarigama in my right.
“If you value your life, you’ll sheath that sword and stop threatening my friends,” I said. “I am Lord Vance Chauzec of Brakith, and I also happen to be the God of Death. I’ve come to see the Glorious Emperor of Yeng about a very important matter—a matter that concerns the Warlock who’s been ravaging this land. I can stop him, I promise you that, but I need a little help from the Emperor. Surely this is enough to warrant an audience with him.”
“The only thing greater than your arrogance, puny god, is your stupidity.” The swordsman snarled, then stepped back and shoved the door. Before he could push it shut, I slammed my elbow into it, and then it was a battle of strength.
The rest of my party joined me, and we all pushed to keep the door open. Surprisingly, the swordsman managed to prevent us from opening it more than a few inches further.
“One last chance,” I said as I summoned Death Magic into my leather gauntlets for the Plague Fist skill. “You can let us in and do this the easy way, or you can continue being a really unhelpful asshole and do things the hard way. Trust me, you’re not gonna like the hard way.”
To my surprise, the warrior chose the easy way. From the scowl he gave us as the door opened fully again, I suspected that he’d been commanded by someone above his rank to let us in. Which meant we were likely to encounter a trap, or an entire band of Fated warriors rather than a single, albeit gigantic, Fated swordsman.
“Fine, god of fools,” he said. “Enter the Forbidden Palace with your ragged band of brigands and beasts, but do not expect a warm welcome from the Glorious Emperor. Many others have been tortured and executed for far less. The consequences will be dire.”
He stepped back, allowing us to enter.
“I assure you,” I said as I smiled at him, “if anyone’s head is going to be separated from their shoulders anytime soon, it’ll be yours.”
He laughed humorlessly, glaring at me with a jagged gaze.
“Watch your backs,” I said to my friends as I paused at the doorway.
“That might be a bit hard for those guys,” Yumo said as she jerked her finger to the monks.
“Ji-Ko and friends,” I said, “keep your ears peeled.” I smiled at Yumo. “That better?”
She scoffed but smiled right back. Hell, I was starting to like her. Maybe my dream of having identical twins in my bedchamber wasn’t so far-fetched?
“Anna-Lucielle, you keep within the monk ranks. Layna, ready your webs.”
Both women nodded, and we proceeded through the doorway with my zombie panthers
in tow.
The giant swordsman followed behind us as we entered a massive hall, so large that a dragon could easily have taken flight in here, and even Frost Giants would have looked tiny. The floor was a deep-black onyx, polished to a glossy sheen, separated by a red carpet that extended two hundred yards to steps leading to a throne. The whole way was lined with elite warriors like the huge man who’d just opened the doors.
“Come,” I said to my party, “time to meet this emperor. Yumo, remember what I said?”
She growled something under her breath but nodded when she looked up at me. I didn’t want her attempting to assassinate the Emperor at the first opportunity.
We walked past countless rows of massive golden pillars, carved in the likeness of dragons, supported the roof and ceiling. The walls were a deep shape of burgundy, and were hung with many beautiful tapestries. Statues, painted in vivid colors, lined the walls, and hundreds of large, ornate braziers were positioned throughout the hall. Smokeless fires burned in them with bright flames, illuminating the space with golden light.
Now that we were closer, I could make out a husk of a man seated on the throne. He wore yellow and golden robes that almost looked like bedsheets. His wispy gray hair was a chaotic mess, and his appearance, despite his opulent robes, was more like that of a disheveled street urchin than the ruler of a great empire.
“Who dares disturb my rest?” the Glorious Emperor of Yeng boomed as we approached.
“Well, that was unexpected,” I muttered.
The volume and power of his voice was disproportionate to his sickly, emaciated appearance.
Despite the severe blow to my pride, I knelt. The rest of my party also dismounted from their panthers and knelt behind me. It was best to at least try to get through to the Emperor in a respectful manner first, before resorting to more antagonistic measures.
“I am Vance Chauzec, Lord of Brakith in Prand, and God of Death, Your Majesty, and I come in peace, with an offer of my aid.” I said.
“You come to my Lotus Court with your band of fools in their colorful garb, your painted whores, and some flea-bitten wild panthers. What is the purpose of this intrusion, other than to annoy and insult me?”
“Fuck this,” I said, and the Emperor’s warriors bristled in their places but didn’t draw their weapons. “I’ll speak plainly. I know you have the lost Dragon Gauntlet in your reliquary. Name your price for this item, and I’ll gladly pay it. I’ll also rid Yeng of the Warlock and his reptilian beasts. As long as you allow my army to pass through your realm.”
The Emperor cackled, and spittle flew from his cracked lips. “You think I would be foolish enough to grant you so powerful a relic so that you can run off with it? What sort of idiot do you take me for?”
“Help me, or don’t help me. Either way, I’m going to get the Dragon Gauntlet. I can assist you with your little Warlock problem, in exchange for the item. . . or I can take it and leave you to deal with the Warlock yourself.”
“What makes you think I cannot handle that charlatan without your help?”
“I know half your army has deserted, and that you have neither the strength nor resources to stop him. So quit fucking around and give me the gauntlet.”
“There’s an aura around the Emperor,” Anna-Lucielle whispered to me. “I think I can. . . “ She grunted, and her face screwed up with effort. “There it is. I’ve dispelled it.”
The Emperor’s visage suddenly changed. While he had certainly looked ancient before, now he looked like a plague victim. The skin on his face was a sickly green, and the whites of his eyes had turned a vile yellow color. When he smiled mockingly at me, I saw that his gums were black, many of his teeth had fallen out, and his tongue was gray. He looked more like a corpse that had been rotting in damp soil for weeks than a living man.
For a few moments the Emperor was completely silent, but then an evil grin spread across his face. His laughter was soft at first, but it soon became a booming barrage that resounded through the enormous hall. The power in that sonorous voice could not have come from the skeletal body that was making the sound.
“Who do you think you are, ignorant foreigner, to come here and tell me about the state of my own kingdom, as if you, not I, are the Emperor of Yeng!” He jumped up from his throne, his face a contorted mess of pure wrath. “I—”
Suddenly his expression changed completely, and the fury and wrath were gone from his eyes. In its place was only a pathetic pleading, an expression of abject fear and terrified confusion.
“Help me, God of Death, please, help me,” the Emperor croaked, his voice suddenly sounding as weak and reedy as his broken body looked.
Then, the rage returned in force and with it the Emperor’s strength. He jumped to his feet again, his fists clenched and his eyes ablaze with crazed anger.
“You will not take my prize, Vance Chauzec, God of Nothing,” he snarled, his voice booming and powerful again. This time, the voice was not the Emperor’s but a very familiar voice.
I had heard it on the warship, the night after I’d defeated the Transcendent Sails, and the Warlock had teleported himself onto my ship and attacked me.
Could it be that the Emperor was the Warlock? Did that even make sense? No, the Warlock wouldn’t be sick and decrepit like this. It made more sense that the Emperor was possessed by the Warlock.
“That’s not the Emperor,” I whispered to Anna-Lucielle. “I mean, it is, but he’s not alone in his body. The Warlock has possessed him, and he’s controlling him like a puppeteer.”
“You will leave my court now.” The Emperor—or rather, the Warlock who’d possessed him—pointed at me with a quivering claw-like finger. “And you will march straight back to your ships and forever leave these lands, never to return on pain of death! Get out, now, all of you, before I change my mind and mount your heads on spikes above the city gates!”
“Get ready for a fight,” I whispered to my party.
Ji-Ko and his monks spun their quarterstaffs and readied themselves in combat stances. Yumo notched an arrow to her enchanted bow in a lightning fast movement while Anna-Lucielle held up both her hands, a purple energy swirling around her palms. Anna’s spider appendages started to weave webs within their claws.
The Emperor’s warriors drew their curved claymores and spears, and a voice called out from behind me.
“The Emperor is but a shell,” said the huge swordsman who’d guarded the doors. “We serve the Warlock who speaks through this fallen vessel. He’s given us powers beyond what the feeble Emperor ever could have. When he finally succeeds in squeezing the last few remaining drops of life from the Emperor’s mind and soul, he will take the throne and rule over all of Yeng. We will be his lords and barons. And you will not stand in our way.”
“Kill them all,” the Warlock growled through the Emperor.
The soldiers’ weapons burst into flame, as did their armor. The flames didn’t scorch their flesh but wrapped around them. They were each flaming pillars that wafted incredible heat.
“Fire weapons, cute!” Yumo said as she aimed her Ice bow. “It’s feeling a little hot in here all of sudden. I think I’ll cool things down, huh?”
The nearest soldier to her, a towering hulk in burning armor with a flaming sword gripped in his meaty paws, charged at her. She coolly slammed three blue arrows into his torso, and all three projectiles smashed through his burning armor. He was dead before he even had the chance to swing his massive sword, the fire swirling about him extinguished.
With first blood drawn, the battle was on.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
The massive swordsman came at me with a roar, whirling his sword around his head. Pointing his sword at me, he blasted out a torrent of flame from its tip, but I launched a tornado out of my kusarigama to counter it. The furiously spinning tornado not only effectively blocked the gushing river of fire, it sucked the flames into its vortex and turned itself into a firestorm. I blasted the whirling tunnel of wind, Death, and flames
at the warrior, but with a few rapid slashes of his sword he cut the tornado to pieces.
We charged at each other, and I launched myself into a somersault, using the whipping momentum of my body to slash the chain end of my kusarigama across the warrior’s torso. To my enemy’s credit, he blocked the blow with his sword and remained standing, even though he staggered back a few paces and almost lost his footing. The blow would have shattered any normal weapon or shield, and would have sent most men flying. The magical power in his sword and armor was impressive.
Just as I landed from the somersault, he aimed a quick succession of cuts and slashes at me, but I parried and deflected them with both my kusarigama and Grave Oath. I counterattacked at blinding speed, dual-wielding my dagger and the blade end of the kusarigama in a flurry of cutting and stabbing attacks. I was forcing the swordsman back, and he knew he was losing this fight.
Trying to catch me off guard, he rapidly blasted another river of fire at my face. I arched my back, keeping my feet planted firmly on the ground as the gushing fire tore through the air an inch or two above me. While bent backward, I flung the chain end of the kusarigama in an underhand toss, hooked it around the ankle of his leading leg, and yanked sharply. I caught him off balance and brought him crashing to the ground. Before he could even think of scrambling to his feet, I darted my mind into the body of a nearby zombie panther, pounced on the struggling warrior, and sank its footlong fangs into his throat.
As he gasped and struggled, the panther bit tighter and deeper, crushing his windpipe completely, and a frothy gush of blood erupted from his mouth. I sprang over to him, Grave Oath gripped tight in my hand.
“The kitty bite was for me.” I stared coldly into his eyes as he died. “But this, this is for the Emperor you betrayed, you greedy, traitorous fuck.”