Rosinanti_Rise of the Dragon Lord

by Kevin J. Kessler

  “Your Highness,” he said between gulping gasps. “Our scouts return from the Aleksandryan border, and the Royal Mage Smiths have news that requires your immediate attention.

  Valentean stalked through the halls of the Grassani palace, trying to keep his feet from dragging against the weight of his angst. He continued to play that horrid scene from the throne room through his head over and over again. How he had leapt at Nevick, pinned him against the wall, ready to cave in the big man’s face with a flaming fist.

  Then, as his companions attempted to intervene, he had come so close, so terrifyingly close, to obliterating them all. His internal battle to stay his hand was one of the fiercest fights he had ever undertaken. The chaos nearly tore his mind to shreds whenever he fought against its influence. The inferno of his rage had grown since the Karminian arena. It was as though the prickling waves of superheated anger were actually alive. It was like a symbiote feeding off his soul and his anger while at the same time granting him incredible power with which to burn his enemies. Perhaps Maura had been right. It was time to try and purge the chaos from his blood.

  But if you let go of the chaos, you’re practically handing the world to Aleksandra. The voice that spoke in his mind was his own, but the words were not his. Something was alive within him, and it whispered this thought through his subconscious, a means to reclaim his obedience. He recoiled at first, but the voice was correct.

  How can you hope to topple Aleksandra without the gift of the blaze? This time, it was the voice of his father reverberating through his mind. Valentean thought of the old man and what might become of him should he fail. Vahn had always protected him no matter what. Didn’t Valentean owe that same level of protection back to him?

  Val, you have to stop her no matter what. The world needs you. I need you… This time, the voice of chaos spoke in that of his beloved. Valentean’s lip curled imagining what horrid, gruesome torment she was undergoing within the boundaries of that farcical empire that had eclipsed their home. The sound of Seraphina’s voice lit the spark within his heart, and the bloodshine of chaos was echoed along his eyes.

  He needed the chaos. It was a means to an end. His allies would have to deal with it and learn to accept that he knew what was best. Save me, Val. Seraphina’s voice was loud and pleading. Protect me as you swore to me you would. Valentean’s fury began to build as the flames churned within him, begging to be released. He bit back on its power, holding it inside. There would come a time to release it. The faces of Aleksandra and Kayden flashed through his mind, and he pictured their flesh blistering, bubbling, and melting as their bones crumbled to ashes.

  He would use the chaos. He would indulge in the flames. He would bask in their warmth and their glow. Nothing could stop him. And once the world no longer fell beneath Aleksandra’s lash…then it could all be his. Why shouldn’t he take it? Why shouldn’t he present the world to his princess? After all, they were gods, and gods were meant to rule.

  Deana wiped a bead of sweat from her brow with the sleeve of the brown Grassani dress she had been given as a fresh change of clothes. Her old garments had been splotched with so much blood in the aftermath of the invasion that it had soaked through the white medical apron and left permanent stains along her bodice. She shuddered at the memories that replayed themselves involuntarily through her battered mind. The pained cries for help from her many patients had left a mark on her soul, and Deana cursed her weakness and limits.

  She had wanted to help them all. She had wanted to heal their wounds and save the lives of each and every soldier who had been dragged screaming into her clinic. But her power was not without limits. Drawing on the well of healing energy within her was draining, and Deana’s talents had to be reserved for those on the brink of death. How many had lost limbs or suffered permanent damage to their motor functions because of her need to rest and replenish her energy? She shuddered at the thought.

  She had been the first of their ragtag group to arrive at the war room to begin planning the final assault upon Aleksandrya. The Karminian contingent, however, had beaten her there. Emperor McNeil along with General Belladon and the mysterious Baus stood within the round room silently. Deana had chosen to wait in the hallway rather than suffer any length of private time with the trio.

  For her entire life, Karminia had been the enemy, and while she had accepted the aid of the workers who had helped them to make repairs on the airship, there was something about the animus warrior-turned-emperor and his sinister entourage that struck an ill nerve within Deana’s heart. She hoped the next person to arrive would be Maura or perhaps one of the Duzels. She hoped it would not be Nevick; her love could not be trusted alone with the Karminian visitors.

  While Deana did not trust them, Nevick’s rage and hatred of the foreigners was a powder keg that could explode at the slightest spark. All it would take to incite violence would be one wrong word, one ill look, and blood would be spilled. There needed to be a buffer between her hot-tempered betrothed and the Imperial contingent who had been nothing but antagonistic since first arriving within Grassan.

  She heard the sound of quickened footsteps echoing through the corridor and held her breath. Valentean stepped out of the shadows, red coat billowing around his legs as he stalked the darkened hallways. He seemed to be engrossed in thought, so much so that he hadn’t noticed her sitting there outside the door. Deana had heard about what happened in the throne room. How Valentean had lost his temper and smashed Nevick into the wall before tossing the remainder of her compatriots aside as though they were nothing.

  Part of her had been infuriated at the animus warrior’s treatment of her betrothed and her friends. But another part, a larger part, was concerned for her friend’s mental health. The chaos seemed to define his attitude. It was less a weapon and more an invader beneath the white dragon’s flesh. Deana knew her friend was hurting, knew how desperately he sought to return to Seraphina’s side, but trusting in the ancient power of their accursed enemy was not the answer.

  She wheeled out in front of him. “Hello, Valentean,” she said, looking up at the advancing animus warrior and watching as the sound of her voice snapped him away from his thoughts.

  “Deana,” he said with a solemn nod of his head.

  It wore heavy on the healer’s heart to see his dour expression. When she had first met his acquaintance, Valentean had been the definition of positivity and kindness. He had smiled at her from her small bed in Casid as she healed him just hours after he had fallen from an airship and crashed through her former home. He smiled through his sadness, through his anger, and had always taken time to talk sense and reason into his friends and companions. This creature that wore his face, that struck out against the same friends he once sought to help, was not the young man who had smashed through her roof just a few short months ago.

  “I…heard about what happened earlier…in the throne room. Valentean, if you need to talk—”

  “That won’t be necessary.” There was no emotion in his voice. He was flat and seemed to be void of humanity. He tried to move past her toward the door, and for a moment, Deana was considering letting him go. Valentean had attacked Nevick. Would Deana be in danger if she tried to interfere with the animus warrior as well? She decided, though, that she could not let fear rule her. Not when there was so much at stake.

  She wheeled out in front of him. “Valentean…” she said, forcing him to stop lest he crash into her.

  “What?”

  “I know that sometimes it feels like the darker path is the only way to our goals. After Casid, I was so full of anger and despair at the loss of my legs. But I didn’t let it stop me, and I didn’t let anything push me away from what was truly important. I realized that I had a higher purpose in this world, and I couldn’t abandon my friends.” She watched him regard her with cold indifference. It was as though her words simply bounced off his ears without registering within his mind. She would not be deterred though.

  “It’s as thou
gh you think you have to do all of this alone, but you don’t. We’re all here, and we’re all united behind you. I know that none of us, not even Nevick, can match what you do out there. But if we all work together, I know we can get you to Seraphina. Valentean, we all want to free your home and help Seraphina. From everything you’ve told me about her, I feel like I know her already. And I want to help you. Nevick wants to help. Maura, Mitchell, Michael, even Nahzarro—we’re all united. And that’s not because you’re a dragon or a leader or a god. It’s because you are our friend, and we want to help you.”

  She reached out toward the animus warrior and grasped him by the hand, giving a subtle pulse of her healing energy, which flowed into his body. Deana knew not whether her power could have any kind of effect on the Rosinanti’s state of mind, but she saw the indifference melt from his face, and a subtle half-smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

  He tried to speak but was silenced as movement behind her chair drew his focus. Deana released her grip on his hand and turned to see Nevick coming down the hall. Seeing Valentean standing with her clearly unnerved the big man, and she tried to flash him a quick smile to make sure he knew she had the situation under control.

  He glared at Valentean, at his friend who had laid hands upon him, and Valentean returned his stare, his gaze once more hardening to stone.

  “Thank you,” the animus warrior said down to her, breaking the tense stare down and brushing past her to enter the war room. Deana swung her chair around to face her beloved.

  “What was that about?” Nevick asked with a quizzical look.

  “It was about hope.”

  Valentean took his seat at the large, round table that took up the bulk of the war room. It was a simple brown stone chamber, much the same as many of the rooms located within the vast central tower. On the far wall, hugging the curvature of the room, stood a floor-to-ceiling map of Terra. It was before that map that Emperor McNeil stood, hands clasped behind his back as he studied the world.

  His one-time traveling companion had only turned briefly to nod in his presence as he entered, and since then, he had paid Valentean no mind. Baus, on the other hand, had turned to him with the tenacious focus of an owl who had just spotted a scurrying mouse. He looked at Valentean with that same hunger he had sensed upon first meeting the statuesque healer in the Imperial City. He was wretched, and Valentean hated him. Belladon appeared to be fixated on the emperor, but Valentean knew a warrior’s ruse when he saw one. She was keeping her peripheral vision trained upon him. He had also noticed that her hand fell to the hilt of her sword as he entered and had remained there ever since.

  Let her try and stop you, my love. Seraphina’s voice cooed in his mind’s ear. That conflict would last seconds. Valentean turned his head as though that might blot out the camouflaged chaos that spoke in the princess’s voice. The voice was comforting, but Valentean knew it wasn’t real. He had enjoyed listening to its promises of power on the walk over as even a simulated version of Seraphina’s voice filled his heart with hope and love.

  Deana’s words had reached him, though, and he tried to turn from the chaos lies warbling through his brain no matter what voice they used. Was she right? Did his friends still stand behind him, united for their shared cause? Even after he had callously savaged them only hours earlier?

  They don’t trust you, beloved, Seraphina’s voice hissed once more. They fear you. They fear what we could accomplish together. Valentean wondered if the chaos shard meant he and Seraphina together or he and the blaze. As he pondered this, Nevick walked into the room, tall and strong with long, powerful strides. Deana wheeled in behind him followed by Mitchell and Michael bringing up the rear.

  McNeil apparently didn’t believe the Casid contingent merited a greeting and kept his gaze fixated upon the map. Nevick pulled out the seat across from Valentean and sat roughly, Deana wheeling over to his side.

  They avoid you, Seraphina’s voice whispered to him. Perhaps they were right to. Their last encounter did not end well, and Valentean forgave their distance. The room sat still and silent as Mitchell and Michael sat on Nevick’s left side. Valentean turned his attention to the table, suddenly feeling very alone.

  Of course you’re alone, fool. This time, the voice in his head was that of Kayden. We are different from them. Did you really think you could blend in? Be one of them? This was always going to happen. He clenched one fist at the sound of his brother’s artificial voice. The flames in his heart leapt at the sound of it. As he began to grind his teeth together, Maura and Nahzarro entered alongside Minister Khara.

  The hunched old woman sat beside Deana, and to Valentean’s surprise, Maura sat beside him, flashing the briefest and slightest of smiles.

  Not all of them flee from me, he thought. This time, both the voice and the words were his own. As if in response to this musing, a memory erupted into his mind. It was Maura immediately following the destruction of Lazman, spitting in his face. He recalled “the dragon” in his heart stirring as the gooey mucus ran down his cheek. Then, the scene shifted as she drew one of her daggers, swiping a gash down his cheek.

  “Monsters do not get to speak my name,” she had said to him.

  Eventually, she will turn on you, son, came the voice of his father. The girl is ruled by her unstable emotions. Thankfully, Valentean was able to block out the voices in his head as Nahzarro strode to the front of the room, moving past Belladon and Baus to stand face to face with McNeil. The emperor nodded at the Grassani king as though he were a subordinate who had arrived late to an official event. It was a cheap tactic meant to establish dominance. Nahzarro, though, was not budging. He stood tall and straight-backed, staring down the bridge of his nose at the Imperial emperor, much as he had to Valentean and Maura the first day they had been led into his office.

  “Once you are seated, we can begin, Emperor McNeil,” the mage king said, his voice crisp and dismissive. McNeil looked flabbergasted, and Valentean felt every eye in the room shift to this royal confrontation. Even Baus managed to tear his hungry, focused gaze away from Valentean to stare at the encounter. McNeil opened his mouth to speak, took a long breath, paused, and then smiled.

  “Of course, Your Highness,” he said with a nod. “When you are ready for the extremely relevant and vital information that I possess, please do not hesitate to let me know.”

  Valentean felt a tiny, amused smile threatening to tug at his lips. Nahzarro had taken the new emperor down a peg, for sure, but McNeil had masterfully handled the jab, turning it back upon the Grassani king. McNeil, Baus, and Belladon all moved to the table, taking seats beside one another.

  Once they had settled, Nahzarro stepped in front of the map and began. “Friends and allies, you have gathered here on this day to aid in the planned invasion of Aleksandrya. Now, we know the city has a strong Skirlack presence, bolstered by scores of human warriors known as the Champions of The Faithful. We also know that Empress Aleksandra has a fleet of over fifty long-range airships protecting her capital city at all times.

  “Our own force of air combat vessels should be sufficient to meet the challenge; however, the presence of the sorceress and her minion, Aurax, continue to prove problematic.” Valentean nodded in understanding.

  McNeil cleared his throat loudly, drawing the attention of the room. He raised one hand idly as if he were a child in school, waiting to be called upon. “Your Highness,” he sneered, “if I may, there is one other potential road block of which to be aware. One, if ignored, could lead to disastrous death and destruction.”

  Nahzarro clenched his jaw and nodded to the emperor, giving him permission to speak. McNeil used this opportunity to rise dramatically from the table and pace before the gathered assemblage.

  “Karminian scouts have been examining the Fortress of Ignis for some time now. From the outside, it appears to be no more than a simple structure composed of stone save for one element—the large spike that extends out from the top of Aleksandra’s central tower and pulsates
with red magic.”

  Valentean recalled seeing the unnatural crimson glow and feeling the power housed beneath its surface. He looked around the table at his companions and saw Maura’s fists and Nevick’s jaw clenching in response to the Karminian’s bloviating speech.

  “It is our belief that this artifact is a relic from the time before the Great Rosinanti War. Our historians call it ‘The Eye.’ Its purpose was to funnel magical energy directly into a sorcerer’s body, making them practically immortal. What’s more, the artifact gives the user complete and total awareness of the entire surrounding area. There can be no whisper of rebellion, no clandestine meeting occurring within the walls of Aleksandrya without the empress knowing about it. Essentially, the city itself is her body, and she has omniscient awareness while connected to The Eye.”

  Uncomfortable silence settled throughout the room, and even Nahzarro looked dumbstruck by this revelation.

  “How do we know that’s even true?” Maura asked with one eyebrow raised in question.

  “I felt it,” Valentean said, drawing the attention of his compatriots. “Before arriving in Grassan, I passed by Aleksandrya. I felt what I guess must have been The Eye. It focused on me, and I could feel Aleksandra through the waves of chaos. The Eye is real.”

  “If it’s real, then we need to take it out,” Nevick said, staring at Valentean and nodding in agreement.

  “Exactly my thought,” McNeil replied, moving in front of Nahzarro and continuing to command the room. “However, the user can only draw power from The Eye if they are connected to it directly through a conduit. Usually it’s a platform, a chair, or something directly connected to the power well within the artifact. To that end, we will need a…distraction.” The emperor’s eyes settled upon Valentean, and he continued.