Ristèard Unwilling Empress

by S. E. Smith

  She quickly followed Sadao up the stairs and down several more corridors before they halted in front of a set of huge, ornately carved black doors guarded by two men. Sadao muttered to them in a low tone that they were being followed and to be prepared. Both men nodded and quickly pulled one door open to allow them passage.

  Ricki nervously glanced over her shoulder when she heard the sound of footsteps coming down the corridor. Jumping slightly when she felt a hand on her arm, she turned to look at Sadao with wide, frightened eyes. He gave her a reassuring smile before he nodded toward the opening.

  “Go,” he said, glancing over his shoulder.

  Ricki quickly slipped through the door. Sadao followed her, locking it behind him. Turning, she gazed at what appeared to be an elaborate office. Her eyes moved about the room.

  Huge tapestries depicting different events covered the mirrored black walls. She walked around the room, glancing nervously back at the door. They were so thick, she doubted they would hear anything on the other side of them. Sadao moved to the desk and began pressing a series of buttons. Within seconds, heavy shields came down over the large windows and lights came on.

  “I need to make sure the rest of the rooms are secure,” Sadao said, rising from the chair. “There are two other rooms connected to this one. Stay here.”

  “What about the guards outside?” Ricki asked, worriedly glancing at the door. “You can’t let them face whoever is coming alone.”

  “They are well trained and additional guards have been alerted. Ristèard ordered that I remain with you. Trust me, I would fear him far more than the traitors,” Sadao stated. “I will return in a moment.”

  Ricki swallowed her protest. She turned in a slow circle, gazing around the room. A fireplace large enough for her to stand in covered most of the far wall. Several large logs, twice as thick as her body and just as long as she was tall, burned in it.

  Over the mantle of the fireplace was a tapestry of two men. They stood side by side, a look of fierce determination on their bloodied faces. Ricki stepped closer to look carefully at the men. One man was slightly older than the other. It took a moment for Ricki to realize that the younger man was Ristèard. In the picture, they held a bloody sword and were surrounded by the remains of dozens of dead men.

  Fascination and nausea coursed through her as she studied the surrounding area in the image. The more she looked, the more details began to emerge. In the background, she could pick out the images of Emyr, Andras, Harald, and Sadao, along with dozens of other men, women, and children. Some of them were still imprisoned behind large bars. It was an image of a woman, holding the small, lifeless body of a child in her arms that pulled at Ricki.

  Her eyes went back to the two men standing surrounded by the dead. The older man’s eyes held so much emotion in them, so much heartbreak, she could actually feel his pain.

  Turning away from the tapestry, she looked at the sealed windows that graced the west wall. They covered the wall from floor to ceiling, probably to allow the greatest amount of natural lighting into the room. Heavy curtains outlined each window and were pulled back with thick ropes of silver and gold.

  Ricki continued her exploration. A large round table that could seat at least a dozen men sat near the center of the room. Two large, silver couches with twin matching chairs were arranged in front of the burning fireplace. There were six matching end tables made of the same black stone as the walls. They sat at the end of each piece of furniture.

  Curious, she walked over and touched one. Amazement swept through her when she saw spider webs of gold filament light up through the stone before fading again. It was almost magical.

  Wrapping her arms back around her waist, she walked over to one of the tapestries hanging along the wall behind the large desk. It had to be over fifteen feet tall and twenty feet wide.

  There was a picture of what looked almost like a maze on it. Inside the maze were depictions of different scenes. Stepping closer, she knelt down to study the bottom of the tapestry where it almost touched the floor. Her fingers instinctively reached out to touch the figure of the woman woven into it.

  A wave of dizziness swept through Ricki for a moment as she bent down. She thought it might have been because she hadn’t eaten in over twenty-four hours. Closing her eyes, she pressed her hand against the tapestry to keep her balance. The wave of dizziness continued to increase until she knew that she was going to faint.

  It was strange being able to analyze what was happening to her even as she felt her body shifting sideways until she was lying on the floor between the desk and the wall. She tried to open her eyes, but it was useless. Instead, she allowed the darkness to take her. Something deep inside her told her that this was important. She sank further down into the swirling mist as vivid colors exploded behind her eyelids.

  I wonder if this is what Star saw when she had her dream, Ricki thought as she gave in to the brilliant lights.

  *.*.*

  Ristèard struck Texla hard across the face as the man came at him again. The blow knocked the traitorous bastard into Roamlin. Swinging his blade low, he caught Roamlin across the stomach when Texla jerked the man in front of him as protection. The blade sliced Roamlin’s stomach from one side to the other.

  He ignored the choked scream of the dying man, instead turning to stop one of Texla’s guards from running him through from behind. Swinging both blades with a cold precision, he dispatched the guard and turned back to find Texla. He wanted answers and the greedy bastard was going to provide them for him before he died.

  “Ristèard, behind you,” Emyr shouted, twisting in an effort to get away from the two guards attacking him.

  Ristèard sidestepped and turned on his heel, bowing low. The blade aimed for his neck swished over his head by the width of his little finger. Thrusting forward, he buried the short sword in his left hand into the chest of the guard. He yanked the sword out and turned as another guard came at him.

  “Harald, try to get to Ricki and Sadao,” he shouted, his eyes scanning over the fighting mass, searching for Texla. “Texla!” He roared, spying the sneaky bastard climbing over the body of one of the elderly councilmen.

  Texla turned and sneered. The sneer turned to panic when the door to the council room exploded inward. His eyes widened when he saw an assortment of unusual men standing in the doorway.

  He immediately recognized the Kassisan, but not the others with him. The two large men standing on either side of two smaller beings, suddenly shuddered. As they did, their bodies began to contort and change into massive creatures with thick, silvery scales.

  “Kill them,” Texla yelled in a shrilled voice. “Kill them!”

  Ristèard’s face twisted in rage at the cowardly traitor’s retreat. “I think not. Ajaska, find Ricki! She is in danger,” he yelled, climbing over the low wall that led to the upper sitting area.

  “I will go,” Jarmen replied, his eyes glowing a dark red. “She is in his office, according to the current video surveillance.”

  “Marvin, take Walter and Nema to safety,” Ajaska ordered, striking at several men as they attacked.

  A low snarl behind Ristèard had him twisting. He found himself face to face with one of the Kor d’lur. The man’s eyes swept upward. The large creature grabbed one of the chairs next to him and swung it at Texla, catching the man in the back with a satisfied snort.

  “Thanks,” Ristèard grunted, jumping up onto the table and using them as stairs to get to the fallen man. Dropping down next to Texla, he rolled the man over onto his back and struck him hard across the jaw. “Now, I’ll show you how a Prison rat makes someone talk,” he growled, running the tip of his sword along Texla’s stomach.

  “Ristèard!” Andras called out urgently.

  Ristèard shifted, glancing at Andras, who was climbing up the side of the platform. The look of worry in his second-in-commands eyes told him that something had happened. His eyes flickered around the room.

  He could see that Ajas
ka and the Kor d’lur were finishing up the remaining rebels while Emyr was pressing a cloth to Manderlin’s shoulder. His gaze moved back down to Texla. The male was still dazed from the blow from the chair and from where he had hit him.

  “Ristèard, Sadao just contacted me,” Andras said in a low voice. “Ricki collapsed. Sadao says he cannot get her to wake.”

  Fear burst through Ristèard. Bending, he pulled Texla up by the front of his shirt and struck him hard across the jaw with the butt of his sword. Texla’s head fell backwards from the blow. Ristèard dropped the man and twisted.

  “Make sure he and any of his men that are still alive are locked up,” Ristèard snarled, jumping down onto the lower floor of the council room. “And Andras, make sure all the traitors are cleared from the palace. Keep only those that you trust within its walls.”

  He didn’t wait for any of the others. His mind was on Ricki. He would kill Sadao if he let anything happen to her. Fear drove him through the corridors. He slowed briefly when he saw the litter of bodies on the floor.

  Ristèard slowed when he noticed Jarmen kneeling outside of his office door, attending to one of the wounded guards. The unusual male glanced up briefly, his eyes glowing an eerie red for a moment before they changed to black when he recognized Ristèard. Ignoring Jarmen, he touched the panel near the door with his hand.

  The moment the locks disengaged, he pulled the massive door open and stepped inside, his eyes immediately searching for Ricki’s golden hair and slender body. He saw Sadao rise up from behind his desk. Worry and concern creased his brow as he returned Ristèard’s questioning gaze.

  “I only left her for a few moments to check that the other rooms were secured. When I returned, I found her lying here,” Sadao explained, moving out of the way when Ristèard strode forward. “Her breathing appears normal and I cannot find any signs of trauma. I’ve tried to wake her, but she doesn’t respond. It is as if she is in some type of trance.”

  *.*.*.

  Ricki turned in a circle, trying to figure out where she was. A gasp escaped her when she saw the figure of a woman striding toward her. The woman looked just like her! She staggered backwards when the figure walked right through her body.

  Turning in disbelief, Ricki watched as the woman glanced back toward her with a frown before turning and disappearing around the corner. Curious, Ricki followed her. Surprise and fascination filled her when she saw that the long corridor she had been standing in was actually the entrance to a large, underground city.

  Glancing back the way she came, she saw the mammoth sized doors at the far end. The corridor was actually a bridge that led from the doors to the city. On each side of the bridge was a vast crevice. Ricki couldn't see anything in the inky blackness below the bridge. She had no idea how deep it was. Something told her that she really didn't want to find out.

  Returning her gaze back to the entrance, she scanned the crowded steps for the woman. It wasn't hard to find the fair complexion and white-blonde hair among all the shadowy figures of black-haired and blue-skinned men and women surrounding her. She thought it was strange that only the woman appeared clearly defined. All the other figures held a ghostly appearance in contrast.

  Ricki noticed that the woman appeared to be talking urgently to several of the men. She continued to stare at the woman, curious about who she was and why she was there. It wasn't until the woman turned sideways to argue with a tall, stately man that Ricki realized that the woman was very pregnant.

  Ricki twisted back and forth as more figures hurried by her. She followed them as they rushed up to the small group on the steps. As she drew closer, she caught the hushed words between the woman and the man.

  "Emera, it is too dangerous," the man insisted. "Let one of the others finish the task."

  The woman shook her head. "You know that I am the only one who can seal the last door, my Emperor. It has to be checked," Emera replied with a tired smile. "You must convince your people to move to the underground cities before the creatures I warned you about come to your world. You must tell them the radiation outside is growing too dangerous for them to continue to live upon the surface. Please, the creatures destroyed the world of my father’s people, do not let them destroy yours as well."

  The ghostly figure of the Emperor raised his hand and stroked Emera’s cheek. She turned her face into his hand and pressed a kiss to his palm. Ricki’s heart melted at the tender touch. She could feel the grief and helplessness of the couple.

  “Go then,” he ordered in a hard voice. “Take two of the warriors with you. Seal the chamber and set the traps. The creatures must not be able to reach it. And Emera, be safe.”

  “I will,” Emera whispered, pulling away. “Hurry, I fear there is not much time left.”

  Ricki jerked as Emera and two men ran through her and back up the steps. She turned to follow, but felt as if she was falling. A low cry escaped her as the world around her spun dizzily in a circle of mist.

  Flashes of images flooded her mind. It was as if she was trapped in the tapestry and going through the maze alongside Emera. Shadowy images rose up, solidified, then faded away again as the ancient Empress of Elipdios carefully guided the two men with her past the traps they encountered along the way.

  Emera finally stumbled to a halt in front of a set of huge doors. Tears glistened in her eyes as she stared up at the intricately carved entrance. One of the men stepped forward and grabbed Emera when she started to collapse. After several seconds, she spoke quietly to the man and he reluctantly released her.

  The two men stepped back several feet as Emera lifted her hands and placed them on the door. Amazement gripped Ricki as thin lines of frost moved up the beautiful black stone doors. The carving reminded Ricki of the one on the door to the office, only on a much larger scale. Ice crystals formed, outlining an image set in the very center. It was only when the ice touched the center that a set of circular forms detached from each other and began turning. As they did, the massive doors slowly opened.

  “I need to see it one last time,” Emera whispered. “You must protect it from falling into the wrong hands. It has the power to save your people. The creatures will do everything they can, to get it back. You must not allow that to happen.”

  The two shadowy guards nodded. Ricki turned her head to see what Emera was talking about, but the sounds of loud voices broke through her dream, pulling her back to consciousness. She fought to see inside the area before the doors sealed again, but the voices, combined with the sudden feeling of floating on a hard cloud, drew her too far to the surface.

  “I’ll roast your balls and feed them to Katarina’s cats,” a very familiar voice threatened. “When I’m done with that, I’ll feed the rest of you to them.”

  Ricki fought to open her eyes. Fear and confusion swamped her when the first thing she saw was Ristèard’s Blood-soaked face. Her hand rose and touched his chin, freezing when he suddenly stopped and looked down at her with worried eyes.

  “Lay her on the couch,” a soft voice insisted. “I’ll take care of her while you teach him a lesson, Walter.”

  “Mom,” Ricki whispered, blinking again to clear her vision. She turned her head and saw her mother standing by the couch. “What are you doing here?”

  “I’ll tell you what we are doing here,” her father growled in a low, menacing voice. “We are taking you home before this… this criminal gets you killed, is what we are doing here.”

  “She is not going anywhere,” Ristèard snapped as he carefully lowered Ricki onto the couch. “Emyr, check her over. Sadao, what happened? I warned you to keep her safe.”

  Ricki’s head swiveled back and forth to the different people in the room. Ristèard, Andras, Emyr, and Harald looked like they had taken a bath in a slaughter house. She blinked when she saw Ajaska and Jazin’s friend, Jarmen, standing in the corner conversing with Marvin and Martin.

  “No, Ricki. Just lay there, sweetheart, while I make sure you are alright,” her mom was saying in a s
oft, concerned voice when Ricki struggled to sit up. “How many fingers am I holding up?”

  Ricki rolled her eyes. That was the first question her mom always asked, whether she had a cut, skinned knee, head cold, or the flu. Her mother was very good at many things, but medicine was not one of them.

  “Two, mom,” Ricki replied impatiently as she slid her legs off the couch and sat up. “You always hold up two fingers.”

  Nema patted Ricki on her knee. “You’ll be fine,” she sighed in relief.

  Ricki’s eyes slid past everyone to the tapestry hanging on the wall behind the desk. It suddenly made complete sense. The map led them to the location of the entrance where the ‘treasure of Elipdios’ was hidden, but the tapestry told them how to get it. Rising off the couch, she ignored her mom and dad’s protests.

  She moved forward, mesmerized by the information she was seeing. Her eyes roamed the maze, picking out the key symbols, translating them with what she already knew, and continued. She didn’t stop until she had reached the end of the labyrinth of corridors and the picture of Emera standing in front of the great doors that held the key to Elipdios’ salvation.

  Strong arms wrapped around her when she swayed. Blinking, she looked up into Ristèard’s dark silver eyes with sudden understanding. She didn’t need to search the archives for the answers, they were right here. His ancestors had the answer to their salvation right in front of them all this time and didn’t even realize it.

  Ricki’s eyes returned to the tapestry as the room became deathly quiet. She tilted her head as she stared at the figure of the woman in the center. A frown creased her brow as she tried to figure out the last piece to the puzzle.

  Only those true of heart led by one born with Blood of ice can pass through the crystal doors.

  Blood of ice, she thought, slowly raising her hands up in front of her as she thought of Emera doing the same thing in her dream.

  Loud gasps echoed through the room when frosty, icy crystals formed over her slender fingers, rising up to form spirals in the air before turning to mist.