by Sandell Wall
She had thought the emperor already on his way to the afterlife, but a bloody hand clapped her on the shoulder. Startled, Aventine rose and leaned over the throne. Emperor Pontius gripped her hand with surprising strength.
“I am no fool, Aventine of Morn,” Emperor Pontius said. His voice was so weak that she had to lean in close and strain to hear his words over the howling of the storm. “The enemy is wary of us because of the secrets these ancient fortresses keep. There is great power buried beneath the earth and suspended in the sky. Only my family knows these secrets, and as the only surviving member of my house, they will die with me.”
Emperor Pontius paused, coughing up a mouthful of blood.
“But I can leave you with the secret of the White Tower,” Emperor Pontius continued. “Perhaps it will deliver you, and through you, my people.”
He fumbled with his other hand, lifting his crown from his lap. Covered in blood, the golden diadem slipped through his fingers. Aventine caught it before it fell to the floor.
“The Bloodstar of Amalt,” Emperor Pontius whispered. “They were after the Bloodstar. Use it. Destroy the enemy. Save the empire.”
Emperor Pontius struggled to get out the last few words, and when he had, he released his claim on the realm of the living. As death embraced him, he gripped her hand so strong that she thought it might break. He looked into her eyes, trying to tell her something more, but the light left his gaze, and then Pontius, Emperor of the Alkomian Empire, the last heir of Amalt, succumbed to his injuries.
Aventine knelt next to the throne, touching her forehead to the emperor’s lifeless fingers. She waited for sorrow to overwhelm her, but it did not come. Instead of sadness, she felt empty. Emperor Pontius was dead, and she had failed. With his dying words he had ensured that she was still chained to her duty. His death had not delivered her from the oppressive burden of responsibility.
Tears of frustration welled up and spilled from her eyes. Outside the gates, her father’s presence called to her. With an insistence so strong that it felt physical, her heart demanded that she forsake the yoke of duty at last. With the emperor dead, the empire ceased to exist. She could join with her father and find her place as a soldier of Morn.
Aventine sat down on the steps before the throne and leaned back, resting her head against the hard stairs. Painted in vivid colors on the ceiling above her, arrayed in all his glory, the emperor strode forth to conquer the enemies of the empire. Her eye was drawn to the right where a line of faces were painted on the base of the mural. As she scanned the lifelike portraits, she realized that they were deceased Rune Guard. Aventine’s heart quickened, knowing what she would find. When her gaze found her mother’s face, her tears flowed freely. Beneath the lifelike portrait was her mother’s name: Luccia.
I’ll not forsake my duty, mother. If the emperor commands me from beyond the grave, I’ll obey.
Dangling from the fingers of her hand, the emperor’s crown demanded her attention. Still weeping, she inspected the diadem. Set as the centerpiece of the crown, the Bloodstar of Alkomia glistened with water and blood. Unlike other runestones, the Bloodstar was carved like a gemstone. Multi-faceted and beautiful, the stone had adorned every emperor’s brow since the birth of Alkomia. Legend said that the ruby stone had been passed down from emperor to emperor, originating with the very first leader of the empire, Emperor Trajanus. Those same legends whispered that the stone possessed powers of destruction both great and terrible.
Aventine applied a small amount of pressure to the stone and it popped out of the crown. Setting the useless hunk of metal aside, she sat up, gripping the Bloodstar with both hands. She looked up at the mural, taking one last look at her mother. Her gaze dropped to the corpse of the pale assassin. Thunder crashed overhead, the fury of the storm breaking on the dome that protected the throne.
In her heart, understanding blossomed. Her duty was to emperor and empire, but everything she had done, everything she would do, was not to serve those unknowable masters. No, she did her duty because of her mother. Every step she took, every challenge she tackled, every burden she shouldered, was because of her mother’s memory. Duty was such a weak thing compared to love.
Aventine smiled as peace filled her soul. She activated the Bloodstar.
Chapter 28
REMUS’S REALITY HAD BEEN reduced to a single cramped street. Nothing else existed. Every step backward, every parry, every thrust of his scavenged sword required his complete focus. His blade never stopped moving, slashing and stabbing at the swarming thralls. Sweat dripped off of him, mixing with the blood of a hundred scrapes and cuts.
The Ethari had lost the gate, pushed back by the sheer weight of the runebound pouring through the smashed doors. Pikon and his troops had almost been overwhelmed, but Remus, Pricker, and Monstur had come to their aid. Now they were fighting a desperate battle, scrambling backward through the city streets, trying to reach the castle before the runebound horde overwhelmed them. Tethana had run ahead to warn the First Legion, and to rally any survivors inside the citadel.
Monstur bellowed, sweeping aside three thralls with one swing of his great maul. Pricker was untouchable, a whirlwind of steel with his two daggers. Without the cramped confines of the narrow streets, they would have been surrounded and ripped apart, but between the tall houses of Umgragon, the Ethari were able to form an impenetrable shield wall. From behind the row of dark scarab shields, the Ethari archers rained death into the massed thralls, but nothing slowed the enemy down. The paved road was slick with blood and gore, and still the thralls came.
Before they backed around a corner and lost sight of the gate, Remus glanced up to see what looked like a young man climbing through the rubble. He wore an astonishing suit of scales that shone like a star, and in his hand he carried a flaming blade.
That’s no thrall, that’s an imperial!
Remus’s anger burned hot at the thought of warriors of the empire aiding the enemy. The distraction was short-lived as another thrall lunged toward him. A frail old man, driven insane by the rune circlet on his brow, the thrall flailed at Remus with talon-like fingers. Spittle flew from the thing’s mouth as it shrieked. Remus smashed the thrall in its mouth with his gauntleted hand and it fell away, trampled under the mob.
“This is taking too long!” Pikon shouted over the sounds of fighting. “Archers, prepare a volley. Fire on my mark. Everyone else, get ready to drop!”
The next instant, Pikon shouted, “Front rank, get down—archers, FIRE!”
On Remus’s left and right, the Ethari shield wall dropped to the ground. He followed them down. As he fell, a black hail of arrows tore through the air where he had been standing. The missiles slammed into the enemy like a wall of spikes.
“Up, up!” Pikon shouted. “Run for the castle!”
Remus and the rest of the soldiers surged to their feet, abandoning the shield wall and sprinting down the street away from the runebound. Monstur was the slowest to rise, struggling as he lumbered after the nimble Ethari. Enraged by the attack, the thralls leapt over the arrow-stuffed corpses of their fellow slaves and chased after the fleeing soldiers.
The Black Citadel was three blocks away. The Ethari ran hard, but Remus hung back, unwilling to leave Monstur behind. When the two of them lumbered around the last corner, the nearest thrall was only five paces behind. Ahead of them, the safety of the castle gate beckoned. Arrows flashed past Remus, missing his face by the width of a finger. Shot with astonishing accuracy, the jagged arrowheads bit deep, tearing into the flesh of the runebound on his heels. Ethari stood in front of the gate, covering Remus and Monstur as they trundled into the castle. When the big barbarian came to a stumbling halt in the courtyard, the portcullis dropped.
“That will only buy us time,” Pikon said. “It won’t hold them.”
Overcome by sudden fear, Remus scanned the courtyard, looking for Tethana. He found her near the entrance to the castle, tending to the wounded. His terror subsided—they had not locke
d her out.
“Stay here and hold the gate,” Remus said. “Pricker and Monstur, you stay with Pikon. I’m going down into the dungeons. If fate is with us, I’ll find our deliverance there.”
“And if it’s not?” Pikon said.
“Then you’ve got a damned lot of runebound to kill.”
Remus jogged across the courtyard toward the castle doors. He stopped to speak with Tethana before venturing into the bowels of the citadel. He needed something from her if this was to work.
“Did all of the First make it back inside?” he asked Tethana.
She glanced up at him from the wound she was bandaging. “Aye, we all made it back. We rescued precious few of the citizens, however. Many are still trapped in the rubble.”
“We’ll get them out. We just have to survive the minor nuisance of ten thousand runebound first.”
Tethana returned her attention to the injured man in front of her, but she still spoke to Remus. “You’re going back down into the dungeons?”
“I am,” Remus answered. “I need your vessel stone.”
Tethana’s hands stopped their work, and she paused in the middle of tying the bandage.
Remus knelt beside her, placing his hand on her bare forearm. “You told Goregash that you loved me. Was that true?”
Still not speaking, Tethana nodded.
He squeezed her arm. “I’ve never thought about love, but I think you’re teaching me what it means. As far as I know how, I do love you, and every day I find new joy and strength from simply having you next to me.”
Tethana smiled, lifting her gaze to look at Remus. Unshed tears shined in her eyes.
“When I look inside, I understand that I love you because I trust you,” Remus said. “Without that trust, there is no love. I need you to trust me like I trust you.” He held out his other hand, palm up, gently urging her to give up her vessel stone.
“I do trust you,” she finally said. She reached behind her neck to untie the leather thong that held her vessel stone. When it was loose, she lifted the stone from inside her shirt and placed it in Remus’s waiting hand.
Tethana pressed Remus’s fingers closed around the stone. “Be careful, my love. You meddle with powers that you don’t understand.”
“Are you talking about your love, or what’s hidden beneath the castle?” Remus asked with a grin.
“Both,” Tethana said. “Now go, you don’t have much time.”
Remus kissed the top of Tethana’s head and then jumped to his feet. Before he entered the dark castle, he glanced back. Suspended in the sky above the city, three red-robed figures observed the fight at the blocked gate. Through the power of the vessel stones on their gauntlets, they hovered high in the air, red robes flapping in the wind. As he watched, they went into motion, streaking toward the fight.
I’ve got to learn how to do that.
Spurred on by the sight of the Drathani prefects, Remus sprinted into the Black Citadel. The instant he crossed the threshold into the feast hall, the gauntlet on his hand surged to life. Preternatural awareness blossomed in his mind, and he knew the quickest route down to the strange, runed room hidden in the dungeons. In no time at all, he was standing back in Crell’s cell in the weak torchlight. The secret passage still yawned black and ominous in the wall of dark stone.
Without a second thought, Remus ducked inside. On the other side of the low tunnel, the guiding light of the green runes on the floor illuminated the darkness. He followed the runes as quickly as he could in the maze-like passages. Soon, he stood outside the glowing arch of the doorway to the mysterious room. In the center of the small space, the squat pedestal still beckoned.
Remus stepped through the door. The presence he felt lurking in the ancient stone of the castle surged in strength, drawing him forward as if it could sense his intent. He hesitated, uncertain now. Whatever power lay dormant here had slumbered since before the dawn of the empire. If he unleashed it, he might not be able to control it. In his hand, Tethana’s vessel stone glowed, pulsing with its own inner fire.
There’s no other way.
Before he lost his nerve, Remus strode forward and placed the vessel stone into the depression atop the pedestal. The stone slipped into place with a click, a perfect fit. The green runes that covered the walls dimmed and almost went out. A great rumble from deep within the earth shook the castle. As the walls shook, the rune script on the walls glowed brighter, surpassing their original brilliance. A voice spoke in Remus’s mind.
“I WAKE AT LAST. LINK WITH ME THAT I MIGHT SERVE.”
Remus fell to his knees, both hands clapped over his ears. The voice was in his head, but the force of it was overpowering. He clung to consciousness, clawing to hold on to control of his mind in the face of the immense presence he had unleashed. He sensed a terrible shock from Tethana. Her emotions slammed into him: surprise, terror, pain, and then nothing. Tethana was gone—he could no longer feel her.
“No!” Remus shouted.
“LINK WITH ME.”
The voice ripped through Remus, pushing out all other thoughts and demanding a response. He could feel the entity grasping for a connection with his gauntlet. More an act of survival than a deliberate decision, Remus reacted, holding his gauntleted hand out, palm up. On his fingers, individual runes lit in sequence and then went out. He followed the pattern, passing the command through the vessel stone. When the last rune had been activated, the pressure on his mind vanished. Immense power flooded into him through the gauntlet from some outside source.
“YOU ARE WORTHY. I AWAIT YOUR COMMAND.”
“Who are you?” Remus said in his mind.
“I AM THE BLACK CITADEL. I AWAIT YOUR COMMAND.”
“You’re the castle?”
There was no response, but new understanding filled his mind as the citadel made connection with his gauntlet. Remus’s breath caught in his throat as he realized the astonishing power at his fingertips. He saw a way to save everyone.
“Rise,” he said in his mind, commanding the mighty presence of the citadel.
“AS YOU COMMAND.”
Beneath his feet, the stone floor shook as the earth shuddered. Remus almost lost his balance as the castle heaved. With no more time to waste, he turned and sprinted from the room. With his new connection to the citadel, he had a map of the fortress in his mind. He knew every hallway, door, and hidden passage. In the dark tunnels, he abandoned the glowing trail of runes, seeing a much quicker path to the surface. The earth quaked as if the world was ending—Remus struggled to stay on his feet as he raced through the dark halls.
Finally, after climbing the last winding stair, he reached the end of a passage. In front of him the blank stone wall looked like a dead-end, but when he pressed on a certain stone, a hidden door popped open, revealing the back of Wranger’s throne. He stepped out into the dim room. The governor’s body was still lying on the throne. Remus avoided the corpses that littered the floor and made straight for the throne room doors.
Beyond the doors, Remus found absolute chaos. What remained of the First Legion was defending the great feast hall against a mob of runebound. In the courtyard beyond, the Ethari were fighting for their lives against a Drathani prefect. Monstur and Pricker had Brax backed up against a wall, but neither of them could get close enough to bring the enslaved Rune Guard down. Through the ruined bars of the gate, there was only sky.
The great castle had torn itself from the earth and ascended into the air. The Black Citadel was flying. Remus had guessed what the fortress was capable of, but he had to see it for himself before he believed it. If they could fight off the enemy troops in the courtyard, they would be safe from the horde where it was trapped in the city below. He dashed forward, his only thought to find Tethana and make sure she was safe.
A brutal melee separated Remus from the courtyard where he had last seen Tethana. Outnumbered two to one, and with half of their number injured or sick, the soldiers of the First Legion fought for their lives against the m
ob of thralls. The stronger soldiers stood guard over those too weak to rise.
Remus watched a soldier impale a thrall on his sword. The dying creature tore the shocked man’s throat out before it slumped dead to the floor. He ran along the edge of the room, hoping to avoid notice and reach the door to the outside. When a thrall lunged into his path, he instinctively lashed out with his gauntleted fist—the blow pulverized the thrall’s chest and sent it flying across the room to smash into the far wall.
The power of the Black Citadel filled his limbs. Adrenaline surged through his body as Remus waded into the fight. He grabbed thralls with his bare hands, hurling them away to crash into unyielding stone and crumple to the floor, dead and broken. A soldier of the First handed Remus a weapon, and with that blade he slaughtered the remaining runebound. The First Legion rallied behind him, and together they pushed the enemy out of the great hall. In the courtyard they surrounded the remaining thralls and put them to the sword.
Remus paused, frantically searching the open space for Tethana. He spotted her slumped against the wall with the wounded she had been treating. She looked unconscious. He took a step toward her, but Pricker’s insistent thought cut across his mind, diverting him from reaching Tethana.
“Leave the girl,” Pricker said. “The battle is lost if we don’t push the enemy from the castle.”
Torn between his need to help Tethana and stay in the fight, Remus hesitated for an instant. From behind him, he heard Monstur bellow in pain. He jerked around and saw blood gushing from the big barbarian’s arm. Monstur’s wooden armor was impenetrable, but there were gaps between the pieces. Brax was slicing into the exposed flesh under those weak points with his axes. With a feral yowl, Shim leapt from his perch on Monstur’s head, landing square on Brax’s face.
The forest cat tore into Brax, a flurry of fur and claws. Pricker darted forward, using the distraction to get close. The lean Drathani’s dagger stabbed into Brax’s bare torso, but the big man did not even flinch. Brax finally got a hand on Shim and slammed the cat into the wall. He lashed out at Pricker, who twisted away, but not fast enough to avoid a vicious cut across his chest. Brax roared, arms spread wide, a bloody axe in each hand.