Dominion Rising: 23 Brand New Novels from Top Fantasy and Science Fiction Authors

by Gwynn White

  ‘You can do that?’ Abyslam asked, pulling back.

  ‘It doesn’t mean anything. The king does what he likes anyway.’

  ‘I must tell Mother.’

  Abyslam left for the kitchen to find her scrubbing pots.

  ‘Mother,’ he said, leaning on the counter bench so his height matched hers.

  She wiped her brow of sweat without glancing his way. ‘What is it my darling son?’ She scrubbed furiously at a stubborn spot of grease.

  ‘I’m joining the royal guard.’

  She froze and met his eyes. ‘Did he put you up to—’

  ‘No. Father had no say. I made the choice myself.’

  She continued staring the way she did whenever he intended to put himself in danger. Every fight, she’d be on the sidelines, fists bawled, frown lines like gullies in her weathered skin.

  ‘But you’ll have to kill—’

  ‘Father said he can make it so I don’t have to.’

  Of that she approved, but her worried expression didn’t change. In the past month, he had spoken to her when his father wasn’t home, telling her of his fears of becoming a soldier.

  ‘This is a rather sudden change of heart. You wanted to be a scholar, or a tactician.’

  ‘I also love the sun god.’

  ‘Blessed boy. We all do.’

  ‘I want to protect the healers from corruption, and exploitation.’

  She gave a doubtful laugh. ‘I see. You’ve always had a heart for the downtrodden. The healers are the king’s charge.’

  He checked to make sure his father was engrossed in his book, then came back to his mother whispering, ‘The king beats them. I might be able to protect them against him, or persuade him to be more reasonable.’

  She wiped her hands on a cloth, threw it aside and hugged him tightly. ‘This path is a fools’ destiny. I love you, and I haven’t seen you this certain of your future in a long time, but if you anger the king, he won’t hesitate to punish you.’

  ‘I won’t. I have charm, don’t I?’ he asked, smiling cheekily, making his mother laugh.

  ‘I’m only charmed because I love you.’

  ‘I love you too, Mother.’

  ‘I believe the king is a sensible man. If you gain his trust, he will listen. Maybe you’ll become a royal advisor.’

  Abyslam beamed at her. She understood him so well. ‘I’ll miss you. I must pack then.’ The royal guards undertook three years of apprentice work at the castle under a senior royal guard.

  Fighting back a flood of tears, his mother pursed her lips and nodded. Abyslam felt a relief knowing he no longer brought shame to his parents.

  ‘You’re going to be a great man, Abyslam.’

  He slipped upstairs to pack his things.

  18

  King Cevznik

  King Cevznik stared at the young healer girl before him, her golden eyes and hair like Bivinian gold silk. Priestess Jewlsa had chosen his new bed mate wisely. He’d long grown bored with his wife’s sagging breasts and weathered skin. When the queen moved into her separate bed chambers, it allowed him to explore the fullness of his carnal desires.

  As he stared at the healer girl, he felt the blessing of the gods. As king, he deserved all that he wanted.

  Healer Sansi’s silken robe, made from the sticky web of the rare Masilka spider, was sheer enough that he could make out the line of her undergarments. If healers didn’t want every man to lust after them, then why dress so invitingly?

  He untied the silken sash and yanked it off, then took three steps back. They’d spent two days sharing meals, playing board games, talking, and she listened with interest, saying little; he liked it that way. It was time to explore her glorious young curves. She intoxicated him like a sweet wine, and in their first kiss last night, he tasted her innocence.

  Her robe parted when she shifted; the cool air slithered across her skin, hardening the tips of her breasts.

  ‘Stand,’ he commanded.

  She obeyed, placing one arm across her breasts, and the other hand covering her nether regions. Perhaps she’ll enjoy touching herself, he thought. Perhaps she already did, and simply teased him to increase his passion. A groan escaped his lips; his heart pounded in his chest. Intoxication threatened to engulf his better sense, but he turned away, clinging to a single, sobering thought. Sansi is a virgin and should be treated delicately.

  Healers fascinated him. They aged far slower than ordinary women. A girl of fifteen like Sansi appeared three years younger. Still, even at fifteen, she would need preparation to meet his manly desires. It was in her best interest to learn, for he was the most powerful man in the land. He could protect her, provide her the finest jewels, dresses and dwellings. Even give her land if she desired.

  ‘Come here, beautiful creature,’ King Cevznik said, taking deep, calming breaths. Long slender legs stepped with the grace of a dancer, and the caution of a deer. Delighted by her giddy, nervous demeanour, the way all young girls are before their first time, the king decided to pleasure her first.

  As Sansi stood before him, he smelled the roses on her skin. As he leaned in, she turned her head, disinterested, heightening his desire so that his groin ached. Before the hours’ end, she would cry out in pleasure for him to stop, but he would feed her greediness until she fattened like a pig.

  ‘Remove all your clothes,’ he ordered.

  When she trembled violently, he clutched her against him, lamenting that his wife had not provided him with a daughter. Her womb had grown barren, and so would never bear a sweet daughter.

  Sansi’s robe crumpled on the floor. The king kept his expression neutral, waiting. She hesitated with her drawers.

  He smirked, enjoying the game. ‘Those too.’

  She froze, staring at his chest.

  ‘What is it that you want?’ the king said. When women teased, they always wanted something. Perhaps Sansi’s desire were not ones of the flesh. ‘I’ll give you anything.’

  Still she did not answer.

  King Cevznik grew impatient. ‘I thought we’d become friends.’

  Her eyes met his, watering. ‘My King,’ she whispered. ‘You are in good health. We should not—’

  ‘I am your king. If I say for you to heal me, then you will heal me.’

  ‘Yes, majesty.’

  She removed her drawers. All her curves and softness were as luscious as he’d imagined. The nub of her breast hardened, changing from a light mauve to almost red. His tongue ached to lick it.

  He removed his own tunic and looked down in glee at his hardness and length. Better than a stallion’s. Red wine stained his teeth as he sipped from a goblet. ‘Let us lay on the soft bed. The heart has warmed the room sufficiently now.’

  Grasping her hand, he led her to the bed. She climbed on, the grooves above her buttocks deepened, the dipping of her back accentuating the curve of her shoulders and perfect bottom. She twisted to sit down, her breasts remaining pert above a flat stomach.

  The girl’s eyes grew wider and more frightened as he neared. The king’s knees bumped against the edge of the bed, and he caught her ankles and pulled her to him. He raised her foot, took her soft toes in his mouth and sucked. He let her leg down gently, spread his arms and flexed his chest. ‘Do you like what you see, Sansi?’

  ‘Yes,’ she whispered.

  ‘The walls of my room are thick. Put away your shyness and show me who you are.’

  He got down on his knees, pulled her legs either side of him and kissed her belly. ‘Convince me that you want me, girl.’

  A knock at the door interrupted them.

  He growled, loudly, spinning around to face the door behind him. ‘What is it? I’m busy!’

  ‘This can’t wait, My King,’ said Captain Buckhorn. ‘I’ve a letter from High Priestess Toxiv.’

  King Cevznik groaned, stalked across the room, picked up the girl’s robe and tossed it to her. She shrugged it on and started for her sash.

  ‘No. Keep your robe open
. Tease my soldiers.’

  She backed onto the bed, closing the robes folds so that they barely touched. The king shrugged on his robe, punching hands through the sleeves yelling, ‘Enter!’

  19

  Abyslam

  Abyslam trembled at the door as his captain led the way into the king of Senya’s private quarters past four guards. They passed through a lobby, and a dozen steps later stopped in front of a door to the right. The captain knocked.

  ‘Enter!’ said the king.

  The king was in his night robe, and a young healer girl sat delicately on the bed.

  Abyslam, now angry, kept his eyes on the king. The king had dressed her so immodestly for company.

  For a moment, he’d forgotten the important scroll in his hand: a letter for the king from High Priestess Toxiv. Captain Buckhorn suggested he deliver it so the king could learn his name. Abyslam yearned to know what secrets lay between the folds of the parchment. Sweat bloomed on his palms, and he wiped his hands on his tunic to avoid spoiling the ink.

  The king poured a drink for only himself. ‘Well?’

  Captain Buckhorn bowed, so Abyslam copied.

  ‘What is it?’ asked the king, clearly annoyed at their intrusion.

  Abyslam let his gaze pass across the healer girl. The hem on her silken robe draped gently across her young breasts. Abyslam remembered the disgust in Priestess Jewlsa’s face as the king demanded a young healer girl. She must have caved to his wishes.

  Entering his twentieth year, Abyslam understood the vile and evil things some men would do to possess such a holy creature.

  The king had made her a whore. The rules about healings were well known. First, no man may take pleasure from a healing. He should wear a black hood covering his face and eyes. He should be tied down, the healer would then sit on him once, wait, then rise and leaves the room quickly. For a man to take pleasure from the healing was punishable by death. Soldiers had decapitated men mid-healing for such things.

  King Cevznik placed his own self-interest higher than that of the Sun God himself. Abyslam wished him a painful death.

  ‘Healer Sansi is a beauty, isn’t she, boy?’ The king said to Abyslam, sneering.

  Her features were delicate, and her eyes sad and fearful. Milky skin covered deceptively strong bones. Healers were difficult to kill, and yet this girl seemed so fragile. Waves of protectiveness swept over Abyslam, driving the urge to snatch her up and take her to safety. A temple to the north, or to the south in Old Bow trading town where she’d be revered.

  ‘Lust all you want, lad, for they are more perfect than any ordinary woman.’

  Abyslam wasn’t lusting, but he averted his eyes anyway.

  ‘Forgive me, Highness,’ he said, speaking through clenched teeth. ‘I’ve never seen a healer undressed before.’

  The king laughed sarcastically then crossed the room and grabbed Abyslam by the throat. ‘If you are loyal to me, I will arrange for you to touch one. Would you like that?’

  Abyslam held the king’s wrist, choking, unable to breathe. The king was strong, but not tall, his old body neglected. Abyslam could break the decaying monarch’s every bone.

  ‘I am loyal,’ he choked out.

  When spots formed in his vision, the king released him. Abyslam leaned over coughing hard, pretending to suffer more than he had to make the king feel strong.

  ‘Stand up straight,’ the king said

  Abyslam obeyed.

  ‘Is it true you have bested every fighter in the lands, boy?’ the king asked.

  ‘I have won every tournament I entered since my sixteenth year,’ Abyslam said. ‘And many in my childhood.’

  The king gave a single nod of approval.

  ‘The lad doesn’t need training,’ Captain Buckhorn said.

  ‘Very well. Has he executed a criminal?’

  ‘Yes, My King,’ lied Captain Buckhorn.

  The king smiled at Abyslam. ‘Good. I’ll entrust him to you then, Captain. I expect to see his fighting skills put to good use.’

  ‘As you wish, My King,’ bowed the captain.

  ‘Welcome to my royal guard,’ said King Cevznik. ‘Now, Abyslam, read me that letter.’

  Abyslam met Sansi’s gaze. She smiled at him and he blushed at the attention she paid him.

  He unrolled the scroll. ‘To King Cevznik,’ Abyslam read, ‘an illness with symptoms of fever, rash, sores and vomiting has struck our lands and has already killed a quarter of all women at Lightend Sanctuary. This is a serious plague that spreads swiftly. When you read this, I will already be half-way to Juxon City. Set up a barricade of healers immediately. Close down all trade. Keep all women indoors. We shall speak soon. High Priestess Toxiv.’

  The king sighed, looking sideways at Captain Buckhorn. ‘Set up a court session in the throne room. I want everyone in attendance. Even the queen and my son.’

  Abyslam and Captain Buckhorn bowed. As they turned to leave, the king said, ‘Serve me well, Abyslam, and I will reward your loyalty.’

  ‘My life and sword are yours, My King.’

  The king waved him away.

  20

  Toxiv

  Toxiv, two servant men, ten temple soldiers, and Healer Euka, entered through the main western city gates of Juxon City. The first segment enclosed the cities trade area. Market stalls and shops ran in long, straight rows north to south, yet they were empty of produce, vendors and buyers. Soldiers marched in pairs along the border of the wall. Toxiv sighed with relief. The king had received and acted on her letter.

  Three Juxon City soldiers escorted them through the eastern gate leading to the Uppers. Here lived the wealthiest and noblest of the city’s people. Their horses clopped up the cobblestone roads where men bowed and women curtsied. She felt a sort of melancholy: her visits were usually received with fanfare. Toxiv inspected the people’s skin for red spots. The lanes, homes, and gardens were absent of any afflicted. Another sigh of relief. Perhaps she’d been successful in arresting the plague’s spread.

  Her thoughts turned to her meeting with the king. For years she’d begged for more coin to refurbish the temples, feed and clothe the poor. The scribes required payment, though many worked in exchange for housing. Soldiers were needed to control the Death Plague and nurse the afflicted. Carts to move the dead. Cots and stretchers to carry the diseased. If he refused her demands, she would summon the Juxon City healers to Lightend. Forever.

  Their party stopped at far eastern castle gates. The Impossible Mountains loomed in the distance, and she breathed the clean air. The summits were hidden even on the clearest days.

  No man had crossed them.

  A procession arrived from the castle to greet them. Priestess Jewlsa of Juxon City temple, and Royal Captain Buckhorn, a muscular man with wide shoulders and steady brows, saluted her. His garb consisted of exquisite polished armour and the red cape of the royal guard. Toxiv had met the reasonable fellow on several occasions.

  Their greetings were warm.

  ‘High Priestess,’ Priestess Jewlsa said, inclining her head. ‘Welcome back.’

  ‘I am pleased to see you,’ said Toxiv. The temple rulers dismounted to properly greet each other. They were old friends, and Priestess Jewlsa was only several years younger than Toxiv. Since taking over, the priestess had increased Juxon City’s healings by a third—especially for the Lowers, and poorer areas.

  ‘We have much to discuss, but for now I must insist on making haste to see the king.’

  ‘There is always some immediate agenda for your visits, Toxiv,’ she teased, ‘lend me a little time to greet my old friend Healer Euka.’

  Toxiv’s apprentice laughed as Priestess Jewlsa hugged her. Their mothers had been close friends.

  Impatient, Toxiv chewed her lip. Priestess Jewlsa was the only person she let tease her. Toxiv prided herself on holding a grudge, but Jewlsa was too gentle and kind to invite resentment.

  Priestess Jewlsa grinned at Toxiv. ‘See, we didn’t take long.’


  ‘Have you not heard?’ Toxiv said, mood darkening.

  ‘I have. Forgive me, let us see the king.’

  As the gates opened, stable boys sprinted to take their horses. Captain Buckhorn led the way to the castle.

  Toxiv stared up at the three levels of magnificent, architectural genius, and took a deep breath.

  21

  Toxiv

  The king’s throne room boasted a domed rainbow glass ceiling that turned blades of sunlight into a myriad of spectacular colour. Delicate white flowers wrapped around King Ceznik’s golden throne that turned bright pink as a cloud retreated from the midday sun.

  The courtiers and officials quieted as High Priestess Toxiv, Healer Euka, Priestess Jewelsa and Captain Buckhorn entered and bowed, then approached the shallow dais.

  ‘Welcome, High Priestess,’ King Cevznik said. ‘Tell me what has happened?’

  Toxiv eyed the king’s wife, Queen Svelsa, sitting on an adjacent throne, one not nearly as opulent as her husband’s. Thick brown hair cascaded down a splendid red, velvet dress. At the king’s right sat Prince Erageo, his only son and child, now aged fifteen. Toxiv noticed how wide-eyed and innocent he looked; his silver tunic and thick mane of hair stirred her desires.

  ‘A disease we’ve named the Death Plague spreads through our lands, and kills swiftly,’ announced Toxiv. ‘We fought to contain it, but the citizens of Phrest have fallen ill overnight. What is most troubling is that the disease spreads faster than a horse can gallop.’

  ‘What High Priestess Toxiv is unaware of,’ added Priestess Jewlsa on her right, ‘is that I received a letter from Phrest moments before her arrival. The healers of Phrest have closed their temple.’

  The king leaned forward. ‘For what reason?’ Reddish hues bloomed at his disapproving cheeks. His beard had grown long, and his pale complexion told of too much time spent indoors. ‘The healings must continue—’