by Morgan Rice
She was with child.
CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR
Volusia opened her eyes, as the first light of dawn broke through the window, and looked over to see herself lying in the Touched Prince’s arms, her cheek on his chest, both of them naked beneath the silk covers. They lay asleep in his kingly chambers, in his luxurious four-poster bed, on the finest bedding she ever felt, and as she realized where she was, she woke with a start, immediately raising her head, on guard.
It all came rushing back to her; sleeping with the Prince had been a different experience than any man she’d ever been with. He was so truly mad that it had taken her hours just to get his clothes off, and he had resisted her most of the time.
But finally, after a certain point, she had tamed him, had made him hers. She did not enjoy it, not a second of it. But she could tell that he did—and that was what mattered. This was all a necessary means to an end, as all men had been in her life. She would climb the rungs of power in any way necessary, whether that required killing her own mother or sleeping with a thousand men. Nothing would ever stand in her way.
Nothing.
Volusia had a way of turning off a switch in her mind, creating a sense of detachment, carrying herself away to a faraway place. It was this cold detachment that allowed her to sleep with her worst enemy, or torture someone just for fun. The touched prince was an evil, sadistic man, who also happened to be mad. But in Volusia he had met his match: she could be more sadistic than anyone—even someone like him.
Volusia thought of their agreement, her vow to let him kill her only after she had slept with him. She smiled as she thought of it. She loved making vows.
And she loved breaking them even more.
As she sat up, the Prince opened his eyes and sat up, too. He turned to her, and as he looked at her, she saw something different in his eyes this time. There was a clarity she had not seen before, as if his madness had been calmed.
“My lady,” he said.
His voice surprised her. Now it was clear and cool, not filled with the erratic madness she had heard before.
“You have done something to me,” he said. “Sleeping with you…I can’t explain it. I feel different than I ever have before. I don’t hear the voices. I feel calm. Normal. Back to the self I once knew.”
Volusia stood, putting on her robe, and studied him, surprised. He stood, too, and put on his robe, lacking all of the erratic movements and behavior he had shown the day before. He walked around her, took both of her hands in his, and looked her in the face. She was baffled. Was this just another act of madness? Or had something really shifted within him?
She had not foreseen this—and it was very rare in her life when Volusia did not foresee something.
“You have given me life again,” he said sweetly, softly, holding her hands. “You have made me want to live.”
Volusia looked into his eyes, and she could that he was indeed a different man. She was speechless, and did not know how to react.
“My lady, stay here with me,” he said. “Stay by my side. Let me make you my queen. I will cherish you. My armies are vast, and I will give you all my troops to do with as you wish. Anything—it shall all be yours. Whatever your heart desires. Just stay by my side. Please. I need you.”
She looked into his eyes as he leaned in and kissed her, a soft gentle kiss, filled with lucidity. Volusia’s mind raced, as she tried to contemplate this turn of events.
In the distance, Volusia could hear a soft chanting. It gradually rose, greater and greater, and the Prince smiled and turned toward his open-air arched balcony.
“My people,” he explained. “It is how they greet the day—they chant my name. They worship me. Be by my side, and they will worship you, too.”
He took her hand and led her gently outside, onto the spacious balcony, right up the trail. Volusia looked down over the edge and her stomach dropped as she saw the steep drop below. Down below, the courtyard was already packed with thousands of people, on their hands and knees, bowing, all chanting.
“Maltolis! Maltolis!” they chanted.
He smiled and turned to her.
“Like you,” he said, “I take the name of my city.”
Volusia took it all in, and she could see that he was right: his people really did see him as a god. They worshipped him. Tens of thousands of people, a greater army than she would ever have.
He turned to her.
“We shall unite, and we shall rule the empire together,” he said.
Volusia smiled back at him, leaned in, and kissed him.
They held hands as they turned and faced his people together, all of them cheering wildly. Volusia knew that if she accepted his offer, all of it would come to pass. She would have everything handed to her that she needed to rule the Empire.
Yet as she stood there, Volusia felt something rising within her. It was a sense of resentment. She did not want to rule the Empire together. She did not want to rule an army together. She did not want to have the Empire handed to her. Everything in her life thus far she had taken. By force. By force of will. With her own two hands. Nor did she want the love of a man, mad or not, or a union to one. She did not want to be loved—not by a man, not by anyone. And if she wanted love, she would take it for herself.
“You offer is a generous one, my lord,” she said, turning to him. “But you’re forgetting one thing.”
“And what is that?” he asked.
In one quick motion, Volusia reached back, grabbed him by the back, and suddenly, unexpectedly, used all her might and threw him, head-first, off the balcony.
There came a horrified gasp from his thousands of people, as Maltolis fell through the air, shrieking, flailing, head over foot, until finally he hit the ground, a hundred feet below, with a smack.
His neck broken instantly, he lay there in a pool of blood, dead.
“I am the great Goddess Volusia,” she said proudly, down to his dead body, “and I share power with no one.”
CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE
Thorgrin stood facing the King of the Dead, the Sword of the Dead still dripping blood in his hand, and all the King’s dead creatures at his feet. Thor felt numb with victory.
The King stood on his throne and looked down at it all with an amazed expression.
“They said that you would come one day,” the King said, looking at Thorgrin. “The man who would defeat the darkness. The man who would wield the sword. The King of the Druids.”
The King looked Thor over carefully, and Thor did not know how to respond. Could it really be true? Would he one day be King of the Druids?
“Let me tell you what it means to be a King,” he continued. “It means to be alone. Utterly alone.”
Thor stared back, his heart still pounding from battle, beginning to process it all. He looked around and saw with relief that his men, while wounded, were still alive.
He turned back to the King, remembering.
“You promised to open the gates,” Thor said. “If I defeated your creatures, you vowed to let us go.”
The King smiled wide, a grotesque image, his face collapsing in a million folds and wrinkles.
“A King does not always keep his promises,” he said, laughing, his voice deep, echoing off the walls, the tone of it hurting Thor’s ears.
Thor stared back, crestfallen. He tightened his grip on his sword, and was about to respond, when the King continued.
“In this case,” the King said, “I will. But it is not quite so simple. The Land of the Dead exacts a price. You don’t just walk out of here. Seven of you entered, and for each exit, there must be a price. The price you will pay will be seven demons.”
“Seven demons?” Thorgrin asked, not understanding, but not liking the sound of it.
The King turned, and as he did, a huge secret door, made of solid stone, slid open in the cave wall. It opened up slowly with an awful sound of stone scraping stone, revealing spiked iron gates behind it. Beyond the gates, Thor saw a vast purple s
ky, the sun setting over an ocean; he heard the howling of the wind, and felt a cold breeze rush into this place.
“Beyond the gates lies the world above,” the King said. “You will return to your precious world, but your release will also release seven demons, free to roam the world. These demons will plague you, each of them, at some point in place and in some time you’ll never know. You will receive seven tragedies, one from each demon. When you least expect it. The tragedies might strike you—or they might strike someone you love. Do you still want to leave?”
Thor looked at the others, and they stared back at him with an amazed expression. Thor turned and looked back at the massive iron gates, each bar two feet thick, glowing red, and he watched seven black shadows, looking like gargoyles, suddenly appear and fly through the air, slamming their heads into the gates again and again, as if waiting to be released.
Thor thought of Guwayne, of Gwendolyn, of all the people he knew and loved up above; he thought of his brothers who had come down here for his sake. He knew he had to return, if not for his own sake, then for everyone else’s. Whatever the cost.
“I accept your price,” Thorgrin said.
The King stared back, expressionless, then finally nodded. He began to motion to his men to open the gates, but before he did, Thorgrin stepped up and called out:
“And what about you? You made me a promise. You vowed that if I defeated your creatures, you would give each of us one request.”
The King studied him.
“Indeed, I did. And what is yours?” he asked.
Thor looked deeply into his eyes, staring back with all the seriousness he could muster.
“I request that you, King of the Dead, not take my son. Do not allow Guwayne to die, at least not until I have had a chance to hold him in my arms, to look into his eyes, to be reunited with him. That is all I ask.”
The King pondered Thor’s words, then finally nodded.
“Your request shall be granted.”
The King next looked to O’Connor.
“And what is yours?” he asked.
O’Connor replied: “I request to be reunited with my sister before my death. That you not take her until we’ve seen each other again.”
The King nodded and turned to Matus.
“I, too, request you do not take my sister until I have had a chance to see her again.”
Elden stepped forward.
“And I wish to be reunited with my father.”
“And I with my people,” Indra said.
The King turned and looked at the remaining two Legion brothers: Reece and Conven.
Reece stepped forward solemnly, looked up at the King, and said: “I request that you release Selese from this place. Let me take her with me. Release her. Return her to the land of the living.”
The King of the Dead scrutinized Reece.
“Such a request has never been made,” he said. “A difficult request. If she returns to the land of the living, she cannot be as she was. For once you’re dead, you can never truly live again.”
“I will give anything,” Reece said, clutching Selese’s hand.
“Is this your wish, too?” the King asked Selese.
She nodded, tears falling from her eyes she gripped Reece’s hand.
“I would give anything to be with Reece again,” she said.
After a long pause, finally, the King of the Dead nodded.
“Very well,” he said. “You shall return to the land of the living. For now. Rest assured we will meet again.”
The King turned to the last of them, Conven, who stepped forward proudly.
“I request that my brother, too, be released and allowed to join us in the land of the living.”
The King shook his head gravely.
“That is not possible,” he said.
Conven looked outraged.
“But you allowed Selese to return!” he protested.
“Selese can return only because her life was not taken by someone else’s hand. Your brother, though, was murdered. I’m afraid he cannot return. Not now. Not ever. He will be here for the remainder of his days.”
Conven’s eyes welled up as he looked to Conval, then back to the King of the Dead.
“Then I change my request!” Conven called out. “I request to be allowed to stay here, with my brother!”
Thorgrin gasped, as did the others, horrified.
“Conven, you cannot request such a thing” Thor said hurriedly, as they all came up to him.
“You must not!” Reece added.
Conven shook off their hands, though, and stepped up proudly.
“If my brother cannot be free,” he said, “then neither shall I. I request it again!”
Conval grabbed Conven’s arm.
“Conven,” he said, “don’t do this. We shall be together again, one day.”
Conven stared back at him, serious, undeterred.
“No, my brother,” he said. “We shall be together again now.”
The King stared at them long and hard, then finally said: “A brother’s love is not easily broken. If you wish to be here before your time, then your wish is granted. You are welcome here.”
The King nodded, and suddenly the massive gate began to rise. Slowly, higher and higher, it revealed the open air, the blood-red sky. When it was high enough, the seven demons, looking like shadows, flew out and into the open sky, letting out a horrific shriek as they did so. They immediately dissipated in seven different directions.
Thor and the others walked to the edge, looked out at the world before them, the open twilight sky, the fresh air. He looked down and saw the ocean spread out before them, heard waves crashing far below.
Beside him was Reece, holding Selese’s hand, along with the others. He turned and saw behind them Conven, standing there with his brother, looking back at them sadly; yet at the same time, somehow, finally, Conven seemed satisfied, seemed to have the peace that had eluded him on earth.
Thor turned and embraced Conven, hugging him tight, and Conven hugged him back.
One by one, they each embraced Conven, their eyes welling up, feeling the pain of leaving their Legion brother behind, this man who had been with them from the very start.
Thor looked him in the eye, clasping his shoulder.
“One day, we shall be united again,” Thorgrin said.
Conven nodded.
“Yes we shall,” he replied. “But not, I hope, one day soon.”
Thor turned and looked out at the open sky, saw their boat rocking in the waves below, and he knew that soon they would be back at sea, sailing across the ocean, seeking out Gwendolyn, Guwayne, and all their people. Soon, they would be united again.
He looked up and as he did, he watched the seven demons, black shadows in the distance merging with the twilight, spread out in seven directions, preparing to blanket the world. Finally, they disappeared from view. Thor heard the last of their screeching, and he wondered: What have I unleashed on the world?
CHAPTER THIRTY SIX
Guwayne looked up at the sky as he flew through the air, through the clouds, feeling himself grasped in the gentle claws of a baby dragon, a baby like himself. The dragon’s screeching somehow comforted Guwayne, as it had for days. He felt he could fly like this forever.
Guwayne had lost all sense of time and place, his entire world this dragon, looking up at its belly, its chin, its jaws, mesmerized by its flapping wings, by the way its scales shimmered in the light. He felt he could soar with it forever, wherever it should take them.
Guwayne felt the dragon gradually diving downward, lower and lower, for the first time since he had lifted him up into the air. As they turned slightly, Guwayne saw the endless ocean spread out below.
The dragon flew lower and lower, through the clouds, and for the first time since they set out, Guwayne saw land: a lone small, circular island, surrounded by nothingness as far as the eye could see. The island rose out of the ocean, straight up, tall and vertical, surrounded by
straight cliffs, like a geyser shooting up from the seas. At its top was a wide plateau of land, to which they dove.
The dragon screeched as they went lower and lower, and then finally, it slowed, flapping its wings as their speed reduced.
As the dragon nearly came to a stop, Guwayne looked down and cried as he saw the face of a stranger, a lone man standing there, in bright yellow robes, with a long, yellow beard, holding a gleaming, golden staff, a single diamond sparkling in its center. Guwayne did not cry out of fear—but out of love. Already, just seeing the man, he felt comforted.
The dragon came to a stop, flapping its wings, holding them still, as the man reached out and the dragon placed Guwayne gingerly in his arms.
The man held Guwayne gently in his arms, wrapping him in his cloak, and slowly, Guwayne stopped crying. He felt safe in this man’s arms, felt a tremendous power radiating off of him, and he sensed that he was more than just a man. The man had sparkling red eyes, and he stood up straight, and raised his staff to the heavens.
As he did, the world thundered.
The mysterious man held Guwayne tight, and as Guwayne looked into his eyes, he had a feeling that he would be here for a very, very long time.
CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN
Gwendolyn marched at the head of her huge convoy of people as dawn broke over the desert, leading them away from the village, toward the Great Waste. Kendrick, Steffen, Aberthol, Brandt, and Atme marched behind her, Krohn at her heels, as they all slowly wound their way out of the caves, up to the top of the mountains, and looked out west and north, toward a vast, empty desert.
As they reached the top, Gwendolyn paused for a moment and looked out at the purple and red sky, the first sun rising, the endless trek that lay ahead of them to a place that might not exist. She turned and glanced back at the village down below, in the opposite direction, all quiet and still in the early morning. Soon, she knew, the Empire would come. The village would be surrounded. They would all be wiped out.