by K R Leikvoll
“Allies? You would dare to speak of Evya as an ally after your own attack on A’roha?” the Emperor replied incredulously.
“We are not here to speak of past conflicts, your grace. We are here to speak of current ones. It has been over three decades and we have maintained a stable alliance with the Evyans since then,” James said, putting his hands up with a slight gleam in his eyes. Perhaps it was irritation.
“What does your Lord desire? To know we will not attack them? What is an Empire that does not expand?” the Emperor’s son, Aresius, asked us curiously. He had far more patience than his father, it seemed.
“Lord Vince has been gracious with his terms. Either you may agree to join us and allow him the right to rule your Empire in order to restore peace with our allies, or—” James started, but was interrupted.
“Allow him the right to rule? What mockery is this? I have ruled this Empire for nearly three hundred years, like my fathers before me. Your Femoran traitor of a leader has no right to ask for such a thing,” the Emperor said viciously.
His mockery of my Master was nearly enough to send me into a rage. I vividly imagined myself crawling across the table and slitting his throat. How pleased would Vince be if I brought him the Emperor’s head on a platter? I must have been glaring, for James’ hand brushed my leg underneath the table as an indication to calm down.
“Or,” he continued, “You will face the wrath of Duskwraith. None have survived something such as that.”
The Emperor laughed hysterically at James’ words, as if it were the greatest joke he had ever been told. He even beat his hand on the table, took a long drink from his stein and smiled, pleased.
“Do you think we fear your forces?” he asked us with a raised brow.
“Have you not heard of the ashen A’roha? None survived,” I replied fiercely. Despite the daggers James was staring into me, I could not help my words. He spoke of dragon fire like it was a myth.
“True, which is why we know not what happened; those snobby Evyans likely fled south to Ambryss. If these are the choices we have been given, then I suppose that means we are speaking in terms of war,” the Emperor snarled.
“Do not be a war monger. You have millions of citizens that do not deserve death. We can come to an agreement,” James pushed, refusing his answer. “The children of Zaar do not have to fall for political differences. We could offer you endless wealth… whatever you want, but we must assume control to fix this mess.”
“You speak of this as if it were a political difference. You are suggesting that we hand over our entire Empire in exchange for what? For us to avoid a supposed slaughter? You and your leader are madmen,” Aresius chimed. “Your Lord has long sought to conquer. He made that apparent when he slaughtered the dragons and the Dryads.”
James’ face twisted in frustration and he sighed, glancing down at our empty goblets with longing. Negotiations were not going swimmingly to say the least.
“An Empire overseen by Lord Vince would bring your people prosperity. What you seek will only bring them death,” he finally said to them in a grim tone. “I don't believe your country must fall. We want peace, and we will keep the peace of Kaeda by any means necessary.”
“Peace. You speak of peace as if you know what it means, Butcher,” the Zaarian Emperor growled, slamming down his empty, bone carved stein. James did not appear mildly insulted by his words, but I was at the end of my own patience.
“Why are we bothering with these imbeciles? They have made their intention to continue their attacks plain. If they wish to bathe in the blood of their own for their honor, then let them,” I hissed at James. His glare was so infuriated, I felt the color drain from my face. I had promised to watch my words, or rather, to not speak at all during our negotiations. Likely it was something I would regret based on his unhappy expression.
“The Evyan is right. We have no desire to stifle our Empire, whether that is through aggressive expansion or by becoming puppets. Consider the Empire of Zaar your enemy, Duskwraith rats,” the Emperor said decisively.
The gravity of his words was not wasted on me and James. He nodded curtly to the leader with displeasure written on his face. With both our goblets in hand, he crossed the room toward the stand where the wine was left. The entire time he was pouring, the Emperor and his son watched me for any signs that I may continue to argue. I was stone silent, avoiding all eye contact with any of the men in the room.
Rather than returning both goblets to our side of the table, James held one out to the Emperor. He took it from him and they both raised their glasses in toast to each other, respectfully. Despite the insults, they drank deeply until both were empty.
“The next time we meet, it will be on the battlefield,” James agreed, tipping his head in a slight bow. “May Ortos protect the souls of your people.”
The Emperor snorted at the thought and set his goblet down. I owed neither of the Zaarians respect, so I said nothing to them as I gathered James’ scroll.
“You, your convoy and your forces are to leave our territory immediately,” he stated. “Though I am not entirely without respect for returning our citizens to us. In exchange, we have been holding a man that claims to have been trying to reach Duskwraith in service to your Lord for nearly a year. We will release him to you, but you must depart at once.”
We should have avoided going to the dungeons to retrieve the prisoner. If, out of every moment in my life I could have altered my past, it would have been forcing James to leave him and flee. As usual, I knew not what awaited me in the dankness of their cellars.
We were escorted to the very final cell in the lengthy line of prisoners being held. Some were healthier, and likely had only been there for a short amount of time. Others appeared as though they were on the cusp of death, skin and bones with no light in their eyes. The prisoner at the end, however, was unlike any other.
It was an Evyan man crouched in the corner, covered in his own filth and dirt. His long, mangey dark hair was ratted beyond redemption. He was among those that appeared near death. His calves were so slight, they looked as though they would snap under the weight of his own body. When James cleared his throat to get the man’s attention, he did not bother to glance up at us.
“What business do you have with Lord Vincent Lyon?” James asked with authority, trying to discern why an Evyan would be trying to reach Duskwraith at all. At this, the man’s head turned toward us sharply and he began to drag himself to the bars of his cage.
“I was sent by my father,” he replied, though he sounded far too old to be taking orders from his parents.
“And your father is?” James continued with slight irritation. The man’s brown eyes lit up.
“Alvir.”
He needed not to give more details than that. Despite James and I knowing of the sacred Alvir by different means, we both knew instantaneously that if he was sent by Alvir, he would indeed need to be taken to Vince.
Alvir and my Master’s relationship was always one I found to be incredibly peculiar. How could the incarnate of darkness become friends with a student of the light? It was entirely nonsensical, but they had managed a business relationship for the exchange of information. Alvir was a scholar above being a healer, spiritual guide to the cursed Divines, and a leader to his people in Endhaven. He was an avid learner and sought all the knowledge Vince had to trade. Neither had persuaded the other to a different side, but they were friends nonetheless. Alvir would only send his son to Vince with reason.
“Release him,” James commanded to our escorting Zaarian guard. He did as he was told, much to the prisoner’s obvious relief. He appeared on the cusp of weeping from being freed.
“Thank you,” he said exasperatedly to us both. His stench made me want to retch. I had to take a step backward to avoid it.
“I am James.” He took the man’s arm to assist him as we walked.
“James the Butcher,” the prisoner said as though it excited him. For a child of Alvir’s, his bi
zarre behavior puzzled me. I thought perhaps the year imprisoned had worn on his mind.
“Yes, and this is Warden Lyon,” James continued, gesturing to me. “What is your name?”
It took him a moment to respond. His eyes roamed over me curiously; I did not appear to be a warrior guardian while wearing a gown. Though, his gaze lingered longer than it should have. Again, being naïve to his character, I thought he merely had not seen an Evyan woman in some time.
“My name is Lydris Tavandrys,” he replied to James with a pleased smile.
Lydris.
I curse your name as I write this, even now. I will always despise you. I will always hate you. When we finally reach the Void, I will see you tortured for an eternity.
Unknowing of the future I had entangled myself in, I followed them out of the dungeons from behind. We did exactly as the Zaarian Emperor commanded – retrieving our soldiers, packing up our trading carriages and fleeing the city while we still had their blessing.
With our new Evyan companion, belongings and Naxerella, we began our departure to Duskwraith. Nothing, not even the unsightly new company, could stifle how elated I was to be returning home. My fear of the Dark Sacrament had evaporated. I would become immortal, and I would defend my Master’s honor eternally.
On my way to Uxe, I would have never thought that the return home would be worse. Without the prisoners, James, Lydris and I shared a new carriage for the ride. James would alternate between keeping guard over the convoy during the night or day, depending on how he felt. Much to my dismay, the time he spent riding the countryside on Naxerella keeping command and hunting resulted in me being left entirely alone with Lydris.
When bathed, fed, and rested, he was more insufferable than when he was sickly. It became very apparent over the passing weeks that our new Evyan companion was infatuated with me. He chattered on and on from the moment he woke until the moment he slept, hardly giving me alone time or silence.
His tales were all of his plights that eventually got him kicked out of Evya. From stories of thievery, trespassing, and avoiding duties to simple things, such as being a bastard in general to be around. He did not respect his father, royalty or nobility. It was enough to disgust me and I did not even consider myself Evyan.
When he was not droning on of his own exploits, he alternated to attempts to woo me somehow with his narcissistic attitude. He thought highly of himself, as though he were the most clever, cunning man in the world. Being freed from the Zaarians only aided his delusions that he was special and filled with divine purpose like his father.
Even when I attempted to get off the carriage to walk for a while and escape his overbearing attitude, he trailed on my heels. I had hardly spoken to him the entire time, but he still would not be convinced that I wanted nothing to do with him.
It was not until we were only hours from the palace, when I had changed into my navy dress that Lydris finally tried to compliment me, after over a month of talking only of himself.
“Blue brings out your beautiful eyes,” he said, practically demanding physically that I take his arm to be helped back into the carriage. The thought of touching him made me infuriated, so I yanked his arm as hard as I could, trying to throw him from the wagon. He managed to stay firm with his grip and pulled me into his embrace.
I stepped backward sharply to avoid him. Unfortunately, he took that action as me being fearful of him rather than revolted. It was not necessarily his appearance that disgusted me. After he had cleaned himself up, his face could be regarded as mildly attractive if you were into the average Evyan nobility look. His heart shaped face resembled his father’s, along with his thin lips and broad, pointed ears.
What disgusted me was his awful personality. I despised how he thought only of himself, yet he expected to be welcomed into Duskwraith with open arms. My country was one of absolute loyalty and he lacked a single devoted bone in his being. My title of Warden made me weary of someone as self-servient as him.
“Don’t be frightened, Lazarus. I would never hurt a delicate flower such as yourself,” Lydris said in a flirtatious tone, as if demeaning me as a warrior was a compliment. I hardly spoke to him at all, so it was not out of place when I ignored him to stare longingly out of the carriage.
My reunion with my Master would not be ruined by that filth.
The last few hours dragged on longer than the entire month traveling. I sought Vince’s touch more with each passing moment. I had to remind myself that I would remain calm and collected when I was presented to him, even though I wanted nothing more than to rush into his arms.
The titan sized obsidian gates were pulled open for our carriage while the rest of our convoy was shuffled off to the Everglade for processing. The door was opened for me by a guard, with James awaiting to escort me inside. Or us, rather. I glared with disdain over my shoulder at Lydris while he gathered his few belongings. I did not wish to wait a second longer than needed, but he chose to take his time.
We walked agonizingly slow to the throne room. James stopped to chat with several individuals, including Holly on our way. I wanted to run to my Master’s side, but I kept my composure the entire way there.
When my eyes finally rested on my Master’s form, perched on his throne, I felt my heart ache in my chest so hard I thought I would fall to my knees. It was not some sort of childish infatuation; it was the early traces of the demonic bond we shared flooding back into my being. All of the feverish nights, every passing wave of desire I had for months for his blood nearly overpowered me once more.
At the sight of us, he smiled, truly pleased, and floated down in a cloud of shadows. Despite his usual gorgeousness, I could tell immediately that my poor love was utterly exhausted. He had dark circles underneath his eyes. His face almost appeared starved with how little sleep he must have had. Perhaps he had not been eating, either. It worried me to see him in such a state.
Before any greeting was given to me or Lydris, he wrapped his arms around James and kissed his throat. His head rested on James’ chest, and he rocked him slowly in return. I had not seen much of the affections between my two future kin. I will admit that my insides twisted in envy when their lips briefly met.
“I have missed you,” my Master whispered to James as if they were alone. James smoothed his hair and chuckled.
“You missed sleeping. Not me.”
They ended their embrace and turned to me and Lydris.
“So… did she pass her trial?”
James and I made eye contact and it was clear that he was still displeased with my comments during the negotiations, even after all the time we spent on the road. For a moment, I almost feared that he would say something to my Master with how long he paused before answering.
“Yes. She has begun to understand her role as Warden, along with making her name one to be respected. I know that she will become a formidable foe for all of your enemies,” he finally said to my Master with no wavering in his tone.
“Good. I never had any doubt in my mind that my beloved would fail on her task,” Vince replied. I bowed as low as I ever had, dipping my head completely toward the ground.
“Master,” I whispered quietly. My voice quivered slightly from nervousness, though I am not sure why. He reached out for my hand and kissed it before pulling me to him. Immediately, a wave of warmth washed over my being. I wrapped myself around his left side and held on to him while he looked curiously at Lydris. That scum did not exist to me any longer as I buried my face into Vince’s arm.
“And this is?” Vince asked James, rather than Lydris himself.
“Lydris Tavandrys, your excellency. My father has spoken of your legacy my entire life,” Lydris stated, only bothering to bow his head. “I have suffered many years to make it to your palace to swear allegiance to you and your cause.”
Lydris must have thought his words alone were enough to convince my Master. He came off incredibly cocky with his assumptuous tone that Vince would allow him to stay based on his name or
heritage.
“You are Alvir’s son?” he asked inquisitively. Lydris nodded rapidly in return. James confirmed it as well, handing over a scroll with the information Alvir had bestowed Lydris to give to Vince before he was captured. My Master read the scroll in a few moments. Black flames seeped from his hand and dissolved the message, as if it had never existed at all. “Very well. James, why don’t you show our new guest to the diplomat chambers? I require privacy with our Warden.”
“As you wish,” he replied. Lydris stared a hole into me before he was tugged away, likely in envy of Vince. I wanted to laugh at his emotions, no matter the irony of the situation with my own jealousy.
Once both were out of the room, with the door closed behind them, my Master took me into his loving embrace. It was all I had been waiting for agonized on my trial. I felt only bliss. So much so I could have fallen asleep standing with my body braced against his.
“I heard rumors of you dispensing punishment in Spinewood,” he whispered, pulling me away so he could look into my eyes.
“I do it all in your name, Master.”
“You know what passing your trial means, don’t you, beloved?”
I shook my head no, though I had an inkling of an idea of what he would say. I merely wanted to hear it out loud.
“It means you are to be bound to me for eternity. I have waited far beyond your lifetime for this historic moment.”
I could have wept. All of my years spent suffering had finally come to an end.
Or so I thought.
We kissed for some time. I would have happily made love to him right there, on the stone floor, but Vince had much to discuss with James on the topic of impending war. One I would have more involvement in than any other.
“Assemble with Raven. He has much to teach you before the day arrives. You will be spending your time in the library, learning of the Void and our Lords. Remember every word,” he told me before releasing me from his embrace.