Rosinanti: Rise of the Dragon Lord (Rosinanti Series Book 3)

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Rosinanti: Rise of the Dragon Lord (Rosinanti Series Book 3) Page 16

by Kevin J. Kessler


  But still, a part of him recoiled from this course of action, albeit the voice of his dissent was much fainter than it had been at one time. McNeil stood at the emperor’s side, staring at Valentean with eyes alight in fierce determination. He gave a small, almost imperceivable nod of his head, signaling that now was the time to strike. Valentean heard movement from behind, and he turned to see Karminian Imperial soldiers slowly shuffling into the arena with whips and chains meant to contain him. They looked positively petrified at the thought of having to subdue the mighty Rosinanti, and Valentean couldn’t stifle a short barking laugh.

  These people and their emperor were the scum of Terra. They delighted in the carnage caused in this arena. They cheered as blood spilled and lives ended. They sought to watch an ancient dragon dismember enemies while locked within the confines of this hellish circle.

  Well, Valentean thought, if they want a dragon, I’ll give them a dragon! White light began to pulse along his skin, and the crowd’s screaming instantly was stifled as though they had all choked. The white light shone with tremendous brightness, causing many in the crowd to hold up their arms to shield their faces from the glare. They all looked out from behind the barrier of their arms when an ear-splitting roar broke the silence. Valentean stood tall and proud, indomitable as the white dragon. He roared down at the puny soldiers sent to collect him, and the cowards fled before his might.

  The dragon stretched its impressive wings, letting all those who remained behold the spectacle of its presence. Valentean’s glowing reptilian eyes locked with those of Emperor Tek The Magnificent and saw sadistic glee in them. His mania was matched only by the wonderment and hunger in the gaze of Baus, who stood beside the emperor, rubbing his large hands together. The emperor looked upon the alabaster mountain of scales and pulsating energy like a possession, convinced that the dragon was now his prisoner, contained by the strength of the force field covering the arena. Valentean let power gather within his mouth and flung his head up, firing off a beam of destructive white energy that sailed directly up before smashing into the blue tint of the magical shield, instantly shredding through as though it were wet parchment.

  An explosion resounded through the arena as the shield dissipated, and the frigid mountain winds swept through, chilling the now panicked masses. The people of Karminia screamed and cried and smashed into one another in their desperate flight from the liberated Rosinanti. It would be a simple matter to wipe them out, all of them in one burst of his power. But Valentean only had eyes for one human.

  He crouched low, staring up at the emperor who had yet to move from his seat. He felt the muscles in his powerful legs ripple as he sprang through the air, jetting forward at an incredible velocity on a direct collision course with the emperor’s seating area. There was pandemonium erupting from the gathered assemblage who surrounded the diminutive monarch as they all, save for McNeil and Baus, fled the side of their liege. Just as Valentean’s bulk was about to smash the three tiny Karminians to red paste, the glow returned to his body, and he quickly resumed his human form, landing on his feet before Tek and dashing forward to grasp the monarch by the throat. Valentean pressed him back into his throne as Tek gasped in a blind panic, weakly slapping at Valentean’s powerful arm.

  “You are filth,” Valentean spat into the small man’s face, the flames in his heart leaping as he squeezed the emperor’s throat. “You thought you could own me? You thought I would fight for you? Don’t you realize what’s going on out there? The world is ending, and you just want to play gladiator games. You make me sick. You don’t deserve to live!”

  Tek’s gaze flew toward his animus warrior, but McNeil looked his chosen charge in the eye, hand upon the hilt of his blade, and then shook his head, dropping his arm and entering a relaxed stance. Tek’s face contorted at the treachery, and he looked to his left toward Baus, who stood transfixed by the conflict as though he were fascinated to observe what was going to happen without interfering.

  Valentean’s heart of flame engulfed his insides, burning with the red-hot desire to melt this butcher into a bubbling puddle of gore. The ability to take the life of the most powerful emperor on Terra was within his grasp. With one twist of his wrist, he could alter the fates of millions, change the very course of Terra itself. All he needed to do was give in to the chaos. All he needed to do was want it. Then, from far off, Valentean could feel a soothing presence wash over him, void of conflict, filled with relief, releasing the anxiety that had made his teeth chatter.

  Seraphina was all right. She had managed somehow to subdue Kayden. It was remarkable, and Valentean felt a surge of pride swell within him. Envisioning Seraphina’s triumph brought a smile to his face, and in his mind’s eye, he could see the soft, delicate, pale skin of his beloved, feel her hand in his, fingers intertwining as she squeezed along his digits. He could feel her lips, could feel the gentle melody of her voice within his ears, and his anger faded. Valentean gasped as his face drained of color, and his fingers sprang open from around the emperor’s neck.

  He staggered back like a drunk, using every last iota of strength within him to keep his legs from collapsing. What had he done? He beat Zouka into submission, tortured him, delighted in the fear of others. What was he? What was this spark of chaos turning him into? And what had he almost just done? Murdered an unarmed man in cold blood? How could he even think of doing such a thing and consider himself still worthy to touch Seraphina, to hold her in his arms, to be hers? He tried to shake the still surging chaos from his head and turned his back upon the emperor.

  “What are you doing?” McNeil demanded of him. “Finish this!” Valentean ignored the Imperial animus and began to slowly stumble away.

  “How dare you, brother,” the emperor exclaimed in the wake of his protector’s treachery. “You will adorn a spike upon my wall for this! And where do you think you’re going, Dragon-Lord?”

  Valentean kept walking away slowly. The chaos roared within him, begging him to take the man’s life, urging him to fan its flames and be swept up in it once more. Valentean wanted to; with everything he was, he desired to continue opening himself up to the fire. But Seraphina’s face continued to hold it at bay.

  “You will never leave this city alive!” the emperor screamed. “I will see you destroyed for what you’ve done here! Then I will see Aleksandrya and Kackritta demolished, the ground beneath it salted so nothing will ever grow there again!”

  The chaos swirled with such intense ferocity that it hurt. His rage was burning, and it felt as though it were actually cooking his brain as he tried desperately to ignore the emperor’s taunts.

  “Then I will find your princess, and I will see her tortured and killed.”

  Valentean tried to put one foot in front of the other, but his hands and legs were shaking with exertion. His rage blossomed within his flaming heart, begging with him, pleading to be released.

  “I will spit in her open wounds. I will revel in watching her suffer! Then I will feed her to the hounds and let them splinter her bones!”

  Valentean tried to block it out, to drown out the sound of these heinous threats, but his veins were on fire now.

  “But perhaps before that, I will ravish her again and again and again until she gives me a son. Then I will kill her once I’ve made her mine!”

  Valentean screamed in fury and spun, eyes once more aglow with crimson hatred. One hand shot forward, independent of his will, and a crimson fireball erupted from his palm, slamming into the emperor, engulfing the frail man in its blaze as he screamed for only a moment before it swallowed him. Valentean watched Tek burn, staring with unblinking eyes. He observed the flesh falling from the emperor’s bones until he was naught more than a charred skeleton, which too began to crack and crumble. Valentean saw the fire reflected in Baus’s eyes as the big man watched his emperor burn with that same sadistic hunger and awe. Valentean’s crimson eyes met McNeil’s, and for once, the animus warrior looked taken aback.

  “Long may you
reign, Emperor McNeil,” Valentean said flatly. McNeil nodded to him once then looked back to the crumbling mess of blackened bone that had once been his brother. Valentean felt empowered once more as he turned from the scene of murder. How had he doubted in the flames for those few seconds? He should have known better. Seraphina would love him no matter what he had done. He was fulfilling his purpose, and he was doing it all for her.

  He leapt into the sky, transforming in a flash of white light into his dragon form once again. He pushed down with massive beats of his leathery wings and climbed into the open air. Valentean left the Imperial Palace behind as he took his rightful place, rising like the heat of the flames he commanded into the upper reaches of Terra’s skies.

  XIV: Defense

  Maura sighed and held her arms close to her body. The airship had set sail several hours before, and after a brief moment spent on the bridge, the young woman had retreated down into the simple quarters she had come to call home over the last three months. So much was happening so quickly.

  They were heading into a war zone. If Aurax’s boasting was to be believed, then the Skirlack would be coming with an entire horde, determined to obliterate the magical city she had grown so fond of. Maura had never fought in any conflict that large. She had faced off with platoons of Skirlack soldiers, but this was an army. This was a war. Maura was a fighter, but she was not a soldier, and she knew not where her place would be in the coming conflict.

  Then there was Valentean. Rushing into this battle without their strongest asset present was causing her extreme distress. And adding to her angst was the last conversation they had. He was so angry, so distant. It was as though the boy she knew had died within the lightning storm at Kahntran, and this creature that inhabited his flesh was something else entirely. If Aurax had been telling the truth, which she had a sinking suspicion was the case, Valentean was now alone and in the grip of chaos. If anyone could tame that wild power, it was him, but Maura also knew that he could be stubborn and would never ask for anyone’s help with this burden. She both hated and loved her dear friend for this trait.

  Despite all of these heavy, world-threatening issues hanging over her head, Maura still felt her mind drifting to personal matters. She had kissed Nahzarro. Why had she done that? What could have possessed her to do something so mind-numbingly stupid and out of character? She had kissed Nahzarro. The words flew through her mind like some dead foreign language that she could not comprehend. Maura had never felt such unease regarding an attraction to a man. She had dated quite a bit in secret as a teen, away from the prying eyes of her overprotective father. In that time, she had always been in full control, dictating everything from dates to places to meet, times, and levels of affection. How then was she so totally caught off guard by this infuriating man?

  She could still feel the echo of his lips upon hers, the soothing slip of his tongue as it invaded her mouth. She found her stomach tightening along with a feeling of nervous energy that made her fingers shake. He was an absolute chore of a human being to be around, but inexplicably, Maura found herself drawn to him more and more with every exchange. Since their sudden lip-lock prior to takeoff, she had been doing her best to avoid the prince, and thus far, she had been wildly successful in her efforts. But she could not hide away down here forever. Grassan would appear on the horizon soon, and then there would be more important matters to discuss.

  She gazed out the porthole on the wall and watched the waves below blur past as the airship sped through the sky. A sudden jolt of nausea caused her to look away, brought upon by her lack of experience with airship travel. She had nearly vomited several times since leaving Casid but had, to this point, managed to avoid such an embarrassment. She lay down upon her small cot, burying her face in the pillow, and hoped for a quick end to this torturous ride.

  Nevick stood from the commanding officer’s chair and plodded his way down the steps onto the main floor of the bridge. Deana sat comfortably against the platform, her chair strapped into looping metal rings on the floor and wall. He smiled at her, and, of course, she returned it with double the warmth he had shown. He reached out and brushed his fingertips against the smooth skin of her cheek, tracing a gentle path down to her chin. She lightly kissed his fingers as they passed her lips. The big man continued to move past her, nodding to himself as the ship hummed along.

  Both Mitchell and Michael toiled away at the ship’s controls, pulling levers and flipping switches without so much as a word passing between them. The Duzel brothers knew The Heart of Casid as one might know their own body, and they operated it with a sure grip and concentrated confidence. He nodded to them, but they did not seem to notice, so embroiled in the litany of tasks one needed to undertake in order to keep this boat in the air. That left Nahzarro, who stood off to the side, gazing out through the large central window at the blur of ocean that raced past the ship.

  Nevick had engaged in precious little conversation with the prince since their first meeting in Kahntran, and that was not by accident. He had observed the Grassani’s interactions with his comrades and knew that he should keep his distance for the sake of continued peace. It would have been a shame if he had broken Nahzarro’s jaw and then later had to fight beside him in their war against the Skirlack. Still though, the prince was wringing his hands together, clearly shaken with anxiety. He was so far removed from everyone else, and even Maura, who had been the one member of the team he seemed least bothered by, was nowhere around.

  Despite his ever-increasing distaste for the young man, Nevick’s heart went out to him. Casid had been destroyed suddenly, both attacks coming with no warning, striking his people in what felt like an instant. How much worse would it have been to know the attack was coming? To think upon the upcoming devastation for days on end, knowing that there was nothing you could do to stop the battle from occurring? Nevick could imagine no darker nightmare, and so he slowly walked up to stand beside the Grassani prince.

  Nahzarro turned a sidelong glance in his direction but quickly moved his gaze away without speaking. Nevick sighed inwardly. The prince was not going to make this easy on him.

  “How are you holding up?” he offered, and Nahzarro’s eyes turned toward him once more, independent of his body.

  “Excuse me?” the prince answered in confusion.

  “It’s just…big battle coming up in your home. I know that can’t be easy.”

  “Are we really doing this right now?”

  “Look, I’m just trying to see if you’re keeping your wits together. But if you’re going to be an ass about it, I’ll go about my business before I get…annoyed.” Nevick whirled around and went to storm off, until Nahzarro called after him.

  “Wait,” he said, causing the large warrior to stop in his tracks.

  Nevick slowly turned back to the mage prince, jaw clenched in irritation.

  “I’m sorry. That was rude of me.”

  “It sure was.”

  “I’m just… Yes, it’s really hard to think about what’s awaiting us. Who knows if Aurax was even telling the truth? What if it’s some cruel joke and we get there just to find a mocking crater?”

  “I don’t think that’s the case,” Nevick replied. “They want a bloodbath; that’s true. But they want us there at the center of it. They want us added to the casualty count.”

  The prince nodded grimly in the face of this harsh reality. “I’m not sure if I’m comforted by that.”

  “You and me both.”

  “I keep envisioning the worst-case scenarios. Kayden being there…or even Aleksandra herself.” A visible shudder rocked Nahzarro’s body, and Nevick nodded in agreement. “I’d feel better if Burai were here with us.”

  “On that we definitely agree,” Nevick said. Maura’s account of her chaotic conversation with the defacto leader of their team had troubled him, along with Aurax’s revelation that their friend was attempting to control that which was uncontrollable. It might swallow him up or even turn Valentean against them. N
evick shuddered inwardly at the thought, wondering what any of them could do if their most powerful ally betrayed them.

  A gasp from Nahzarro shook the mighty warrior from his thoughts. He looked at the prince quizzically as his face broke into a relieved grin. Following Nahzarro’s line of sight, Nevick could see land appearing on the horizon.

  “There it is,” Nahzarro said with relief and pride.

  Nevick squinted his eyes but saw nothing but mountains in the distance beyond a large stretch of empty land. “Where? I see nothing.”

  Nahzarro flashed him a smile. “Just wait.”

  Maura found the familiar location of King Matias’s throne room to be a welcomed sight as she walked through the large double doors that marked the sparse chamber’s entrance. The entire team walked together—her, Nevick, Mitchell, and Michael, with Deana rolling her chair along beside them. Nahzarro sped ahead of them all with a pronounced gait, hurrying to the far end of the room where Matias sat. Nine armed warriors flanked the rotund monarch as he nodded at their approach.

  “Father,” Nahzarro cried out, sounding to Maura like a small child relieved and excited to see his parent once more. Matias’s ruddy, bearded face broke into a grin at the sight of his son, and he rose from his throne, wrapping his strong arms around the raggedy form that broke into a jog and buried its face into the king’s chest with so much emotion that the trademark top hat flew from Nahzarro’s head.

  “My boy,” the king exclaimed, rubbing the back of Nahzarro’s head. After a moment, his gaze shifted, eyes locking on Maura as she and her comrades continued to approach. He broke the embrace with his son and smiled at her. “Well, I see our fair maiden managed to survive the trip to Kahntran, to the shock of no one!”

 

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