The Obsidian Throne

by Michelle Soper

  “Woah!” the man said in response to her abrupt movements. “Clearly not a morning person.” Chuckling softly, he stared at her.

  Nev rubbed her eyes and blinked out the last remnants of sleep. She stared at the man kneeling across from her and sighed heavily. Her fleeting hope that the prowler she encountered had been a nightmare confined to her sleeping mind evaporated before him. A heavy feeling took hold of her.

  He smiled at her, “Good morning.”

  Nev just stared at the man in response. He appeared to be close to her in age and was dressed in comfortable and practical clothing. His dark brown leather pants, jacket, and boots nicely complimented his dark green tunic. It was quite similar in color to her cloak. She also spied a flash of purple tied around his belt in the form of a long sash.

  His brow furrowed, and he cocked his head slightly at her.

  Nev felt him studying her, and it made her uneasy. She glanced at the ground before turning her attention to her wounded shoulder. It was still aching, but the pain had subsided substantially. Her shoulder had been cleaned and wrapped securely and neatly with fresh bandages.

  “Pretty nasty wound you have there. It would do better if we could find the right herbs or something. Should heal alright without them, however. Provided we keep it clean, and you don’t get hit with anything else there for at least a week or two,” the man said, watching as she examined her shoulder.

  Nev nodded slightly in response.

  The man laughed softly, “Well, Addi is sure to like you. She always says I talk far too much.”

  Nev looked up at him with a slightly confused look on her face.

  “You know, it just dawned on me that we were never properly introduced. It must have been the threat of immediate pain and death that threw off my normally perfect decorum. I’m Wyatt Jaxson, pleased to meet you,” he greeted while extending his hand towards her.

  Nev stared at his hand for a moment. She normally endeavored to avoid interacting with other people at all. There were exceptions, of course. Occasionally, she would meet or even seek out someone she needed information or services from. Those interactions were kept brief and narrow in scope. Her name, however, was not something she gave out often. It could be used to track her movements, something she endeavored to avoid at all costs.

  The last time she had shared it with someone was almost half a year ago. She had come across a small boy that had become separated from his family. He knew which village they were headed towards, but not how to get there. She remembered him being brave beyond his years. He was about the same age she had been when she suddenly found herself alone. Maybe that is why she stopped and why she helped, and perhaps that is why she had given him her name—even though he never asked for it.

  Nev had spent a week getting him to his family’s destination. Upon reaching the village, she gave him instructions on how to find his family. Nev had watched, ensuring he was reunited with them safely. It wasn’t until a month later she learned that the village had been brutally razed. Rumors of an Unmarked in the vicinity had given them all the cause they needed, not that their actions had required one. She heard there had been only a handful of survivors. In the months past, she had worked very hard to convince herself that her temporary ward and his family had been among those fortunate enough to escape. Either way, it had been her presence that had drawn the empire’s ire. It was just another piece of the guilt she carried. Always.

  With her next breath, she pushed the memories of the small boy’s face to the edges of her memories. She studied Wyatt’s hand and his face. He had helped her, but too many faces haunted her dreams already. She doubted she could survive adding yet another. Maybe if they went their separate ways, she could draw the prowler’s attention back where it belonged: On her. This stranger, Wyatt, would then be free to fade back into the obscurity of everyday life, safe from the prowler’s pursuit.

  She managed a small smile. Wyatt deserved to know she appreciated his efforts, even if she felt they were an error in judgment. Snatching her cloak and feeling unworthy, she crawled out of the hollow. The new day’s light shone through the fading mist. She secured her overcoat and checked that her belt pouch and dagger were secure. Reaching just inside her shirt, she briefly ran a finger across a small amulet that hung from her neck. She let out a tiny sigh of relief before letting it rest against her chest. Hesitantly, she stretched her left arm carefully, testing it. She found herself pleasantly surprised that, while still sore, it was much improved.

  Wyatt sighed softly. He watched her gather her belongings and exit the hollow and then followed suit. “Well, Birclan is about a week’s long walk from here. If the weather and our luck hold, we might make it a bit sooner,” Wyatt said, staring up at the sky and standing beside her. “We just need to walk away from the morning sun. It won’t take Addi very long to realize something has happened, and Birclan is where we meet when things go sideways.” He gestured westward before tearing the bread he was carrying in half and handing a piece to her.

  Nev stared down at the piece of bread she was now holding. “I can’t,” she said softly.

  “Allergic to bread, are you?” Wyatt asked, with a raised eyebrow.

  “No. What? No, that’s not what I meant. I can’t go with you. This prowler is different. I know that he won’t let me go. If I travel with you, then he will find me… us again. It is inevitable,” Nev said, her voice trailing off.

  Wyatt stepped towards her, cupping his hands around hers and the piece of bread she was still holding. He could feel her attempt to pull back from him slightly. He gently refused to let her break free from his grasp. He was no oracle or soothsayer, but it was evident that the injury to her shoulder was not the gravest wound she carried. “Maybe it will,” he said softly.

  Nev looked at him feeling confused.

  “Or, maybe it won’t. I don’t know what is going to happen. And whether you believe me or not, neither do you. One thing is for certain, I’m not letting you deal with this prowler alone. He is more dangerous than most,” said Wyatt, suddenly sounding uncharacteristically serious.

  Nev watched as his amber eyes flashed with painful memories. She knew that look well and found herself being curious about what had caused it. Something about it or him was drawing her to him. She felt her guard drop slightly. Maybe she did need his help, at least for a while. “Alright. Well, if we want to get to Birclan in under a week, we should get moving,” she acquiesced.

  Wyatt looked up at her as she pulled her hands from his. “Right,” he said, clearing his throat and stretching slightly. “Good that you relented so easily. I’m stubborn, remember,” he added, sounding back to his usual self.

  Nev flashed a quick smile at him. “I am Nevara. But you should call me Nev. Unless you want me to be unhappy with you,” she said, heading out towards Birclan.

  “Well, we wouldn’t want that. Nev it is,” Wyatt said with a warm smile. He let the name bounce in his head for a few moments. Nev, he thought to himself, moving quickly to catch up with her.

  Chapter 4

  General Razine did not wait for the attendant to announce his presence to the emperor. He hated the affairs at court and only spent time at the palace when completely necessary. In fact, he had not spoken to Emperor Malicus in person in a little over five years.

  He’d always found the emperor to be of a questionable mental foundation. Over the last ten years, he’d become increasingly unstable, and his tantrums and demands increasingly hard to deal with. Razine and the Oracle were among the very few that Malicus would even talk with anymore. Meals in private, never leaving his living chambers, and listening more and more to the Oracle’s whispers meant the emperor was fully committed to his prophecy.

  In the years since the uprising, Razine often questioned why he ever initially backed his friend in such a venture. Why he’d committed to it in the years since, however, was far easier to see. It had given Razine unfettered access to all the resources the empire had to offer. The more the empe
ror withdrew from the public, the more Razine had stepped in to fill the void. He had made himself the unquestioned face of the empire and, arguably, the single most important person in all of Obsidia.

  His vast experience commanding troops and forming military strategy came in handy when giving orders to enforcers and organizing the emperor’s assets across the empire. Still, Razine bristled at interacting with nobles, Malicus, or the Oracle. His least favorite to deal with by far, however, was the Oracle. Razine didn’t understand why Malicus had insisted on keeping him around and elevating him to his personal advisor. Razine, unlike the emperor, never liked or trusted the man. At least for today, he would be dealing with Malicus.

  The attendant watched as the general approached him. He could always tell Razine from his crisp dark blue uniform with the gold cords that indicated his rank. Razine’s broad build, harsh face and piercing brown eyes were easily recognizable and intimidating.

  The valet scrambled over himself to reach the door before Razine did. Without a moment to spare, the nervous man swung open the door to the emperor’s private chambers. “General Razine to see you, your eminence,” said the out-of-breath attendant. He was left feeling threatened and unappreciated by the general as he watched the man move past him and through the doorway. Once Razine had pushed through the entrance, the attendant quickly closed it behind him, the sturdy and ornate wooden double door reverberating as it closed with a heavy thud.

  Razine made his way through the elegant but dim chamber. The ravens of the Colfax insignia could still be found woven throughout the architecture of the palace, carved in relief in facades and columns since its construction. However, the Colfax colors, formerly observable in luxurious purple fabrics adorned on uniforms and banners throughout the palace, had been replaced with a dark blue theme accented by garish gold. Razine found himself missing the aesthetic tastes of Malicus’ predecessor.

  The Colfax dynasty had ruled Obsidia for twelve generations before Empress Astrella had been overthrown during the Great Uprising. They had been the ones to create the Obsidian Throne and bring the various territories under the banner of a single empire. Their influence could be seen all over the country. It was said that the one who sat on the Obsidian Throne could bend the wills of nations and people to their wishes. Razine did not necessarily believe that, but Empress Astrella and her family had wielded an enormous amount of influence.

  The Colfax dynasty had not only unified the coastal mainland region of Obsidia and formed the empire, but they had earned the loyalty of the Isle of Shalemore. The vassal state’s allegiance being won was a result of the Colfax’s victory in the Emerald War. It’d been a long and bloody conflict, but necessary at the time. The isle’s naval and military might was a serious threat to the newly-established Obsidian Empire. Luckily, the Colfax’s were able to pushback and subdue the isle.

  When Malicus usurped power, he was irate that the isle refused to acknowledge him as emperor. They claimed to only have allegiance to the raven, not Malicus. As a result, they withdrew to their lands and made it clear their relationship with Obsidia was over.

  Malicus had wanted to invade Shalemore as a result, but Razine was luckily able to convince his friend that doing so would be a terrible mistake. Razine had no interest in starting a war that he knew Obsidia was unlikely to win.

  The well-renowned power of the Colfax line did seem to falter briefly during the last few months before the rebellion. Empress Astrella, who seemingly had lost her way, failed to ever regain her strength and control again. Except perhaps in death.

  Razine wondered why she had chosen the path she did. To think, despite how history may remember her, this was all caused by the hatred of a spurned fiancé. If she’d simply married Malicus, this might well have all been avoided. Razine always thought, that as the last of her line, she should’ve been more practical. Instead, she resisted marrying Malicus. To make things worse, she’d reportedly fallen in love with someone else. The affair was insulting enough to Malicus, but that was not what drove him to betray her.

  Astrella had become reclusive in the months preceding the coup. Speculations about the reason behind her withdrawal were numerous, but one stung Malicus more than any other. Whispers of the empress being pregnant and birthing a daughter rapidly swept through the palace and then the empire during her final days. The hints of a child’s birth had proven to be the last straw for Malicus’ patience and Astrella’s reign. Rejection and public humiliation were not things Malicus, as the eldest son of the very powerful House Burque, handled well. Even if the rumors could’ve eventually been proven to be untrue or the people could’ve accepted the child as Malicus’, he did not. Nor did he take the slight lightly.

  In the end, all that mattered was that the empress—and her legacy—fell. Malicus conspired, with the help of Razine, to usurp power and control of Obsidia. Without a clear heir, the Colfax dynasty’s hold on the empire was ended when Astrella was imprisoned and then publicly executed. Any and all those loyal to her met the same fate. All guards, extended family, and servants who had not died in the coup were summarily executed in a bloodbath spanning weeks.

  The all-important lost heiress was never proven to exist, despite the dying empress claiming emphatically that she did. Many presumed that the baby, if it ever existed, had died in the attack on the palace. Rubble and damage from intense fires made determining the truth all but impossible. Still, the rumors of a lost heiress persisted and irritated Malicus incessantly. With the empress dead, his fury focused on finding and killing any threat to his reign. That meant the lost heiress. His obsession with locating her drove every decision he made, including the creation of the Shadow’s Hand and the increased brutality of the enforcers.

  Razine threw open the door to the emperor’s personal study, expecting to find Malicus. Instead, he found only the Oracle waiting for him. The Oracle was an older man with bristly, long black and grey hair. He was draped in deep purple robes embellished with tiny black ravens along the cuffs. The fabric almost appeared too heavy for his frail frame to support. Razine felt his dark eyes, studying him carefully as he entered the room. “Wearing purple and ravens, I see? Even for one held so closely in his confidences, it may not be wise to insult Malicus.” He taunted. Razine was certain Malicus would not be pleased to see such a tangible reminder of the one perceived threat that still consumed him. “Now, where is the emperor?” Razine demanded.

  The Oracle scoffed dismissively. “He is resting and shall not be disturbed,” he replied flatly. “The emperor asked me to express his deep and growing concern that you have yet to produce the lost heiress,” he offered while staring coldly at Razine.

  “I demand to see Malicus,” Razine ordered. He was beyond frustrated that Malicus would summon him and yet send the Oracle as his proxy. Razine had never understood why Malicus had welcomed the Oracle into his inner circle so quickly. The Oracle had served Empress Astrella, and yet he was the only one to survive and continue to serve the throne.

  Razine had inquired a few times about where the Oracle had come from or how he’d come to serve House Colfax, but answers either didn’t exist or were only vague hints of the truth. Regardless, his presence always made Razine uncomfortable.

  “Demand? Are you sure that is wise?” the Oracle sneered. “And what would you tell him of your failure to find the one thing he seeks?”

  “The lost heiress? Still believing the empty threat of a dying empress?” Razine questioned incredulously. The general had supported his friend’s hunt for the girl, even if he always thought the idea of a lost heiress was completely ridiculous. After years spent in pursuit, however, neither the Oracle nor his prophecy of some daughter gone astray were things Razine felt still deserved his respect or full attention.

  “Only you, a mad emperor, and a dying empress ever truly believed she existed. How many women have been put through the trials, and yet nothing? Tinkerers imprisoned, women brutally killed, and for what? The true daughter of Obsidia doesn’t exis
t any more than her predicted return or reckoning exists. The empress’ words were hollow. They were nothing more than the desperate words of a dying woman being consumed by fear, anger, and flames. You took her words and crafted a prophecy to match. It is all a lie,” Razine stated, staring at the Oracle.

  “A lie? And yet it is a lie you follow. You need it to be true, as I know it to be true. You need this because it delivers you what you wish. You have grown powerful in your hunt for the very thing you seem to dismiss so easily. Should we call off the pursuit then? Would you so easily slide back into Malicus’ shadow?” the Oracle asked, grinning intensely at Razine.

  Razine knew there was more truth to the Oracle’s words than he was comfortable with, and he felt his will to protest falter. Sometimes he worried that the same madness that had gripped Malicus had now set its sights on him. More often than not, he found himself questioning how his path had led him to where he now found himself.

  The general took a deep breath and regained his composure. The Oracle would not be allowed to see him so rattled. “I wonder if the emperor is the one that is truly concerned? How long does one remain an oracle if their one and only prophecy is proven to be untrue?” countered Razine, with a smile and the hope that the Oracle was the one now feeling rattled.

  “My prophecy is very reliable, and your concern should be with how your faith in it and usefulness fulfilling it remains true. The emperor grows impatient and believes you have been given ample time and resources to produce the lost heiress. Yet, somehow you continue to fail at your task,” the Oracle replied, sounding agitated.

  “I have put countless women through your trials, and yet the result is always the same. Whether they live or die, none are this lost heiress you have so pinned your reputation and influence on. Perhaps the doubt should be placed on the one who demands and designs these tests,” Razine countered while moving within a few inches of the Oracle.