The Flame of Wrath

by Christene Knight

  His mind's eye had a flash of the druids which had found themselves living off of this stew and stale bits of bread. If they had lived off of these scant offerings them perhaps he could as well.

  His stomach agreed. It had been void of food for how long now? He could not endure a moment more without sustenance of some kind. Angelos lurched forward attempting to gather what bits of food he could, but found that the stones had consumed more of the meal than he ever could. His head fell as his stomach cramped bitterly.

  The dizzying slant of the world caused him to release a whimper. He collapsed against the stones, allowing blackness to claim him wholly.

  ********

  The doors opened to release a world of gluttonous decadence. The perfumes of wealth wafted through the air with braggart majesty. It bid a small young messenger welcome as only temptation could.

  Hypnotic music thundered with abandon. The sound beat against the chest in time with one's own heart. It drew out one's inhibitions then cast it away to the realm of forgotten things. Devoid of importance, restraint was scarcely worth remembering.

  As she came deeper within the ambiance of indulgence, she fell under the sultry warmth of candlelight.

  The grand room was alight with thousands of candles. They bathed the world in hypnotic illumination. Each radiant flame glinted off glistening marble steps. The steps led up to a huge bed of pillows enclosed from the world by four smooth columns. From those towering columns, the airy sheerness of red curtains teased the eyes.

  Two figures intertwined in passion's ancient embrace joined the dancers reigning atop marble platforms in their own zealous ballet.

  Lowering to her knee respectfully, the messenger placed her fist upon her heart. She licked her lips after having suddenly felt her mouth run dry.

  It was through the sensual frames of dancing legs that she fought both, to be seen and also to glimpse the entangled lovers. She swallowed hard. Her eyes danced in time with the undulating performers writhing in seductive abandon to the music. She nervously cleared her throat, commanding her eyes to look away. Instead, she lowered her head.

  The music escalated exuberantly. It mimicked the cries of the woman who’s back bowed dramatically off the bed of silken pillows. Along the walls running parallel to the festivities, drummers beat spiritedly against their massive drums. Each beat of their powerful instruments knew the zealous punctuation of her soulful song.

  “Highness,” the messenger began. She lifted her voice, unsure she would be heard above the music, above the woman who continued to speak her ecstasy. “The army has divided as per your command. Our forces will be upon the province of Angels by day's end.”

  Intoxication filled the rhapsody of every note. The dancers spun. Around their erotic forms, gossamer chiffon fanned outward to seduce the eyes with wanton visions of sweat-lined bodies.

  “Regrettably, the trackers have found no sign of the druid, Soren, or Queen Autumn.” The messenger paused, adding, “Do you wish them to join the soldiers surrounding the province?”

  The drums voiced a wrathful might. The music hastened to a manic height. Its dizzying allure throbbed a final brutal note. With it, the dancers collapsed to their platforms. They lay weakly upon their sides. Their panted breaths weighted the air as an airy interlude to the song which came next.

  Maven's voice rang out loudly in the echoing silence. Her arched body concaved then crumbled to the delicate ruins of silk and fluff.

  Aurea fought to steady her breathing as she supported her shimmering body by the strength of her arms. Through the mask of obscuring red, she could see the kneeling messenger. She stared out at her from behind flaxen lashes. Loudly in her ear, she could hear the woman beneath her fighting for breath.

  “Tell the trackers to double their efforts,” Aurea commanded firmly. “I want Soren and Autumn.”

  “It will be so, my Empress.”

  The messenger rose to her feet. Her legs shook violently as she backed away. The overabundance of fear which accompanied her calling upon their sovereign had never subsided over the years. In fact it grew as time went by. One never knew if being within Aurea's presence would be their final act.

  “Knights!” Aurea called.

  From floor to magnificent ceiling, two immense doors sheltered the Empress from a waiting world. They cracked to release a thin sliver of light before opening to admit the Knights of Virtue.

  The Knights curiously watched the messenger scuttle past them as they entered. They might have inquired about her news, but had learned long ago not to ask questions. It was because of this that the optimism once so readily seen within their eyes had faded to a jaded dimness.

  With hands upon their waiting hilts, the Shadow Reign siblings remained poised for whatever orders their Empress would surely give. This was what it meant to be Aurea's Enforcers. Their sole purpose was to fulfill her orders.

  Aurea's voice dropped to a deadly hiss. She carefully enunciated each word. “Bring me, Angelos.”

  Markus and Galen disappeared from the room to retrieve their imprisoned brother-in-arms. Silently, they brought his weak body into the Imperial wing.

  Dark hair hung around his slumped head. His wrists were bound. Beneath his underarms, the hands of his former peers held him firmly. His legs dragged limply over the marble floors until they came to a stop.

  Angelos lifted his head. He could see her. The Empress stood watching him keenly from behind the canopy. He could distinctly make out the sultry line of her body.

  Aurea held her hands together as she took a single step forward. Her hands were the knife which sliced precisely through the curtains. She parted their length, creating an opening through which she stepped. Her taut leg peeked through first, showcasing the shapely curve of her thigh.

  From the shadows, two women appeared. Together with downcast heads, they pulled a whispered robe over her waiting arms, guiding it to rest against her shoulders. Then as quietly as they had come, they withdrew.

  “Angelos,” she began.

  The Empress descended the steps with a feline silence in her steps. “What an utter disappointment you have turned out to be?” Stopping directly before the man, she watched over him all too aware of how her gaze could make a soul feel minuscule. She intensified her gaze. “You were meant to help create a new dawn for our people and now---” She lowered her voice, causing it to drip with venom. “You have sentenced yours to death.”

  Angelos tensed. He thought of the people of his kingdom, but he knew that was not what the Empress meant. No, Knights Reign had remained loyal to Virtue. Aurea was referring to his childhood home, the home of his ancestors. Aurea wanted Angel's destruction.

  Urgently, he shook his head. “No,” he begged hoarsely.

  The golden Empress looked away in disinterest. “What am I to do, Angelos? I ask you. Your people cannot be permitted to live. They know of the---” She stopped, uttering the next few words to follow with an undeniable level of disgust. “---Other's conception.” She was fuming, but schooled her voice to sighed exasperation. “It ruins my beautiful vision for the new world.”

  Angelos could feel his nausea washing over him in waves.

  “Virtue,” she explained, “is meant to be the one true religion. If another exists to disprove my theology, then I am made to look like a fool, like a liar. So again, I ask you... What am I to do?”

  Before Angelos could even utter a word, Aurea spoke yet again.

  “Perhaps,” she said, “considering your years of service, I could permit you one last opportunity to prove yourself. You did not actually make a decision between Autumn and myself so technically you did not betray me.” She paused only briefly. “Still, I wonder. Should the time come when you must make a choice between your sister and I, whom will you choose?”

  Aurea returned her eyes to lock heavily on dark eyes clouded by exhaustion and hunger. Slowly, she took possession of the hilt of a nearby sword. She drew the weapon from her unquestioning Knight then aimed its tip d
irectly beneath Angelos' jaw. She used the flat of the blade to lift his head. With his face upturned to peer directly into her own, she went on. “Whom do you serve?”

  “My family,” Angelos answered.

  “And who is your family?”

  Angelos closed his eyes. He knew without question that if Aurea wished to see her surroundings scarlet, she would not hesitate to shed a being's blood simply to have it appease her mood. This instant was no different. His life was inconsequential. He swallowed the sickening lump rising in his throat. Tears streamed silently down his cheeks. “You, my Empress,” he answered, “and all beings of Virtue.”

  Arching her brow, Aurea studied him. She weighed the sincerity of his answer. With an undecided slowness, she lowered the weapon.

  Angelos released a breath of relief. She has decided to be merciful, he thought gratefully.

  His eyes widened fearfully as the sword rose with unnatural speed then came crashing down. He screamed loudly and closed his eyes.

  Inside the silent chambers, the sound of the sword impacting against the marble resounded within their ears. Aurea released her sword, letting it fall to the ground once devoid of purpose. As the crashing sword clanged against the floor, she turned her back. She stared forward to her waiting bed.

  Over her shoulder, Aurea heard the sounds of disbelief. She allowed that feeling to linger in the air, but a mere moment before speaking again. “Kill Soren and the abomination,” she commanded.

  Shakily, Angelos stared at his wrists. At the floor beneath him, he took note of two things. The first was the rope fallen away to a bitter memory while the second was a shining sword resting unwanted upon the ground.

  Aurea waited, presenting more of her back to Angelos. She knew him. She knew he inwardly salivated at the opportunity to take hold of that sword and strike her down with it. She could all but feel his inner struggle. And yet, she was not afraid. She had seen the glimmers of will inside him fall. It was broken beyond any hope of repair.

  The Empress turned her head as if to listen for his innermost thoughts.

  “What if----?” Angelos stopped. He nervously rubbed his sweating palms over his tattered pants.

  “What?” Aurea sighed in annoyance.

  “What if I could kill Soren and the child, but----?”

  Aurea's brow arched. She began to understand. “You wish to spare Autumn,” she reasoned.

  Sighing loudly, Angelos nodded his head.

  “Autumn will always stand against me,” Aurea murmured. “She's promised her life to my ruination.”

  Angelos heard his heart pounding.

  “Do you honestly believe that if you kill her child, she'll forgive you? Do you think she'll stop trying to come for me knowing that it was by my order that it was murdered?”

  The disgraced Knight had a flashed memory of his sister's eyes. He could clearly remember the seething emotion he had seen within them on her journey home from war. The mere mention Empress had done this. He knew then that Autumn would never stop. She would keep coming for Aurea until one of them or both of them were dead.

  “Perform a kindness for your sister if you truly love her,” Aurea purred. Her voice suddenly grew cold. “Keep their cursed family united. Let her die with her beloved druid and the bastard child.”

  With defeat weighting his entire being, Angelos spoke scarcely above a whisper. “It will be done, my Empress.”

  “Then go.” Aurea ascended the steps to her bed which existed on a plane high above all things. “And do not fail me again.”

  Angelos was aided to his feet by his smiling brothers and sisters. They tenderly helped him to leave the room, promising him food and fresh clothes. He could only glance over his shoulder as Aurea disappeared behind the gentle cloak of crimson. As he watched, the doors were ushered closed.

  As Aurea came to sit down among the vibrant silks, she stared out to the remains of discarded bonds. The soft rustling of fabric coming from behind her came as a forewarning of her lover's approach. She felt a warm arm drape itself over her shoulder then reach around to hug her neck. Her hand snaked upward to gently squeeze Maven's forearm.

  “You allowed him to live,” Maven said. She made no attempt to mask her surprise. Gently, she pressed her breasts against her lover's back. As she turned her head, she nuzzled her nose into satin strands of sun-kissed hair. Her lips moved with each word. “Why not simply kill him?”

  “I have need of him,” Aurea answered. She leaned her head to the side. Offering her neck, she felt the slow seductive kisses beginning to line her skin.

  “You need no one, my Love.”

  “Oh but I need you,” Aurea countered absently.

  Maven smiled slowly against her lover's shoulder. It was a lie. No matter how beautiful that lie might sound, she thought. She knew that Aurea needed nothing except power and no one possessed more power than Aurea. Still, that Aurea had even attempted to make her feel needed touched her.

  As if Aurea grew lost in her own thoughts, she succumbed to speaking her softly murmured musings aloud. “In any event, I need Angelos to live a little while longer,” she said. “He'll want me to believe that all his resources are going to hunting Soren, but I'll know differently. He'll want to find Autumn before I can because he'll attempt to spare her. In his mind, he's devising ways to somehow spare her from what will happen if I find her first.” She glared into nothingness. She saw Autumn's face gazing down at her while she remained tied to the stake. “Who better to track her than her guilt-ridden brother?”

  A slow and seductive smile played across Aurea's face.

  Honored Mother, echoed maniacally throughout her mind. She scorned the words. Oh how she loathed them. She replaced them with words which fueled her hatred, words which gave life to righteous indignation. Traitor. Whore.

  “I'll wipe out the Angels bloodline in one final blow.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Retribution's bells are tolling. The ghosts are singing their cries for vengeance. Together, they rise with the fog.

  ----The Book of Wrath

  ********

  The forest floor whimpered in protest beneath the weight of the feet trampling across its surface. Whatever quietly spoken enticements Nature uttered were squashed. They were replaced by the sounds of determined pursuers.

  The trackers were flashes of color. Their busy movements found them dancing from one group of trees to another like chaotic cardinals. Still no matter how driven their efforts were, their coveted prey still eluded them. It would seem that they were always mere hours behind the ones they sought.

  The hours dragged from night into a new day. Before long, the early approaches of evening had come. With its arrival, weariness began to play a role in the chase. The distance between them was lessening significantly. Soon, the hunt would end.

  ********

  Beast and rider charged forward with a feral intensity present within their kindred eyes. The terrain covered had been treacherous. It promised to only grow more difficult as the day ticked on.

  Bursting over a gaping riverbed, a powerful giant carried his charge. His white fur was matted by burs from the chase. Its shining perfection was marred by mud. As he attacked the earth with his enraged strides, he felt two hands gripping to his fur in an attempt to steady his rider.

  The horizon warped as his vision blurred. His strength was waning, but he had yet to reach the safety of their haven.

  Not yet, he panicked.

  His herculean stride faltered. It was then that omnipotent strength gave way to mortal life. The enormous wolf's legs buckled. He collapsed, sliding with merciless momentum over the ground.

  The titan's head rested against the ground weakly. From his parted mouth came the haggard rasps of exhaustion. He growled, baring his dagger-like teeth. That thunderous sound gave way to a whimper. He howled mournfully while beginning the transformation from beast to man.

  “Soren,” Autumn uttered sadly. She watched over the panting druid as he shivere
d.

  His naked body was covered in sheets of sweat. He had struggled so hard to keep them ahead of the hunters tracking their every move. Still, they had each known that it would only be a matter of time before he could go no further. Sadly, that time was now.

  Soren had exhausted both, his magic and his body. There was nothing left for him to do but rest.

  Looking upward, Autumn caught a glimpse of the sky. Dusk valiantly dared to peek between the trees. It fell alongside realization to her waiting eyes.

  With a quietly approaching clarity, she knew what must be done. She would fight. She had to. After all, Soren was the last of his kind. Was that fact not worth protecting?

  Her hand slowly slipped to touch her abdomen. The feverish heat which resided there reminded her that Soren was not the only soul facing extinction.

  As her resolve steeled, Autumn promised herself that she would fight with her last breath to protect the child she carried within her womb. Her eyes quickly scoured their surroundings. Her mind raced. She focused her attention on any and all makeshift weapons. She had even made a plan for the best possible shelter for Soren when suddenly her heart stopped.

  The crisp sound of foliage breaking underfoot reverberated loudly throughout her core. Autumn froze. Someone was behind her, drawing closer by the moment.

  She glanced down at Soren. Exhaustion had claimed him as its victim. He was helpless. Her fist tightened as her body grew taut with readiness.

  She imagined the first instant she would hold her baby within her arms. She envisioned the beauty of her child's smile then the sweetness of her baby's voice. She longed for those things, to know them with the same vivid recall her father had shown her entire life. She would not have it taken away from her.

  With a low growl, Autumn whirled around to face her attackers.

  Stillness overtook the Queen in the same instant that it filled the woods.

  Every particle of air was a visible speck within the sunlight. The birds refused to sing out of reverence. The wind refused to blow. A sea of armored men and women knelt within Nature's temple. Their solemn expressions were radiant beneath the golden sunset. Yet it was the tears which lined their disbelieving eyes that caught the light so readily.