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

by Gwynn White

  Sniffing with amusement, he said, ‘As you like…Toxiv.’

  Abyslam pointed north west to tiny lights moved horizontal across the darkness. ‘Juxon. About a mile or so away.’ The grass tundra before them led to a wall of giant trees. Wolves howled beyond the tree line to the east. ‘Keep an eye out for hunters,’ Abyslam said. ‘Thieves as well. If we keep quiet and move swiftly, we’ll pass unnoticed.’

  Toxiv looked over at Healer Euka who hadn’t said a word. ‘Are you well, Healer Euka?’

  ‘My hopes are high, Holy One.’ Her voice wobbled. The girl was not yet twenty-one, her hair still golden.

  ‘You’ll be safe with me,’ Abyslam said to Healer Euka. ‘Let’s go.’

  Toxiv and Healer Euka ran behind him, trying not to trip over sticks or rocks. Once in the forest Toxiv sighed with relief.

  ‘Keep quiet. Keep low,’ Abyslam said, crouching. ‘Follow me.’

  They walked for an hour. Chirps, croaks and owl hoots masked the twigs and autumn leaves snapping noisily underfoot.

  ‘I would like you to accompany me the entire way to Lightend Sanctuary,’ Toxiv whispered to Abyslam.

  ‘I would,’ Abyslam whispered back, his voice fogging in the night air. ‘But I must see to my parents. I fear for their health, and the prince’s health too. It’s through him you and your kind have a future.’

  Toxiv found herself growing fond of the soldier. ‘Then bring your mother and father with you. They’d be most welcome at Lightend Sanctuary. I’ve never lived in a place more beautiful.’

  The high priestess caught a hint of Abyslam’s white smile in the dark.

  ‘With the gates of Juxon City closed,’ he said. ‘They won’t escape the plague.’

  ‘Couldn’t they escape through the prisons like we did?’

  ‘Perhaps, but it’s too risky. My father is well known, and through him, me. Hawrald is greatly respected among the soldiers. They would not allow me the same liberties as him.’

  ‘Hrmm,’ said Toxiv, thoughtfully.

  ‘Hush now,’ Abyslam said gently, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. ‘We approach the farmlands and farmers rise with the crowing cocks.’

  The three travellers crept forward, watching for torchlight and listening for voices. Toxiv swiped at spiders’ webs, pushed aside branches, and focused on the delicious smell of pine trees whose needles rustled above.

  With time, the darkness faded into a dull grey light. Birds chirped and fluttered between tree tops chasing breakfast. Wave shaped clouds turned orange in the peeking sunlight. Rabbits poked their heads out of burrows to nibble on green shoots.

  ‘Hawrald and the healers will be heading south by now,’ Abyslam whispered.

  ‘I fear for them,’ said Healer Euka. ‘The king is an impetuous man.’

  Toxiv stared at the younger healer, irritably sighing. ‘There’s no point in ruminating like that.’

  A hut appeared to the west between the trees. No smoke rose from the chimney. ‘Stay here,’ said Abyslam, running off through the trees before Toxiv could stop him. She pushed down on Healer Euka’s shoulder so they crouched.

  ‘He’s brave,’ Healer Euka said.

  Toxiv noticed in herself that she liked Abyslam a little more than she should. The gap between their ages was seventy or so years. What would she find in him except misguided youth and ridiculous romantic ideals? Yet it was innocence that often drew her to young men. They wielded optimism and hope like an old man fights for years long gone. In the bedroom, young hands explored thoroughly, leaving no fleshy stone unturned. Older men preferred to rabbit their way to pleasure’s destination.

  Toxiv sensed Abyslam was a virgin. She liked the idea of teaching a man to pleasure properly. The first is never forgotten.

  A concern flared in her chest. Hours earlier, she’d been physically defiled, and yet suffered no real trauma. Thinking back on the memory, she felt no pain. Even as she considered her fellow healers being beaten and tossed about like wheat bags, she felt nothing for them.

  Do I even care? she thought.

  Mel had often called her cold and callous. Toxiv did feel angry a lot, and while she didn’t want the healers to die, when she saw their heads severed, or their bodies bleeding, she felt no urge to save them. She only wanted to take revenge on their attackers.

  ‘Am I…strange, Healer Euka?’ she asked in a moment of vulnerability.

  Healer Euka fixed golden eyes on her. ‘Aren’t all healers rather strange, high priestess?’ She missed the point of the question entirely.

  ‘Do you think I care about other people?’

  Her apprentice stared at her, perplexed.

  Toxiv continued. ‘Healers were the first ones to academically inquire about how laying with a man affects a woman’s emotional disposition. Women feel much during the act, as do healers. That’s why we use ritual to separate the mind from the body. We keep the healing brief. No touching. No speaking. When a man ravishes a woman without her consent, it leads to fear, nervousness, sadness and madness in some. Last night, I did not give consent. Hundreds, perhaps thousands watched the king give the order for my humiliation, yet I am spared from that moment by the absence of strong feelings.’

  Healer Euka took Toxiv’s hand. ‘You are strong! Not like other women.’

  ‘I know, but I do not feel sad when people die. If someone cries, I am unmoved. I seem to take no joy in life. I only feel pleasure in revenge, or acting on anger.’

  ‘You loved Shovock,’ Healer Euka said. ‘Love makes you human.’

  Toxiv frowned. ‘Perhaps.’ She felt great anger when Shovock refused to make love to her. When she tried, he would fight her off and run from the room. ‘When Mother died,’ Toxiv continued, ‘I felt nothing. I was happy when Mel died. Tonight, I stabbed a man many times, and I felt elated. Blissful. I enjoyed his suffering and yet no amount of his bleeding satisfied me.’

  Healer Euka moved closer to her. ‘You take pleasure in serving justice, as any ruler does. High Priestess, if you doubt your feelings, turn to me; I will help you to understand. Even help you know how to feel.’

  Toxiv stared at her. ‘You will?’

  ‘I know what you speak of. People are intimidated by you, High Priestess, but your passion is not for people, but for our kind.’

  ‘I want to believe you, but there is no sadness in me for the healers in the Lowers last night. I feel rage at the men who hurt them. That is all. And at the king and his soldiers. Abyslam held me down, but I don’t feel anger at him.’

  Healer Euka rubbed Toxiv’s back gently. ‘Then you are on the right side of history. It doesn’t matter how you feel, but how you act.’

  Toxiv lowered her head as if a weight weakened her neck. ‘I hadn’t realised how wise you are. One day, when I pass, you will make a fine high priestess. I would have you speak more. Even when not asked to speak.’

  ‘I learn by holding my tongue,’ admitted Healer Euka.

  Toxiv lay her head down on her apprentice’s shoulder when Abyslam appeared through the trees carrying clothes. ‘Put these on. Plain, ugly, but warm. They’ll make you look common.’

  ‘Wonderful,’ Toxiv said, rolling her eyes. ‘I assume you have a plan?’

  Abyslam jingled a coin purse. ‘Horses.’

  34

  Priestess Jewlsa

  Priestess Jewlsa and two-hundred and fifty other healers headed upstream from the waterfall at the end of the prison tunnels. Hawrald led them out into the darkness where stars shone brightly, the air bitingly cold. The rain from the previous day had left the ground muddy and uneven, making the going slow.

  Jewlsa worried over their conspicuous tracks left in the mud, but perhaps more rain would fall by morning to wash them away. They entered an overgrown forest running parallel to the southern road that led to Old Bow. Hawrald cut them a new path through the undergrowth.

  The town of Old Bow was predominantly a trade town for merchants. Its carefree culture made it a popular place of residence. As
it sat on the border of Bivinia—a wealthy country interested in purchasing unique oddities and fabrics—the townspeople, mostly merchants, were awash in gold, leaving them idle to pass the day in drunken stupors.

  Emperor Phoh, the Bivinian monarch, despised the immorality of healing, and since the beginning of his reign, had incited great fear and anger towards healers. Nevertheless, in the depths of night it wasn’t uncommon for unwell Bivinian men to sneak across the Senyan border to seek treatment from healers working in the forests.

  Priestess Jewlsa wondered how to best phrase the letter she would send to the emperor. While Bivinia and Senya shared a strong trade alliance, any Senyan who entered their territory was executed on sight. They were deeply religious zealots who fervently guarded their borders with the greatest army in the lands of Arcania.

  Emperor Phoh wasn’t a kind or understanding man; he wouldn’t leap at the opportunity to grant healers asylum. They must barter for their safety. He had no interest in invading Senya, so land wouldn’t temp him. She threw up her hands, exasperated. It would be easier to simply offer him whatever he wanted.

  To the south, flashes of light lit up the sky, but no thunder followed. Bivinian storms rarely travelled north. They needed the cover of rain.

  Flash, trudge, flash, trudge. The skies teased her. She kept alert, listening for the shouts of angry soldiers and the pounding of galloping hooves.

  After several hours, her nerves settled as the sun rose. Healers did not grow weary. The muscles in their legs healed with each step. Unfortunately, this was not the case for Hawrald.

  ‘My lady,’ said Hawrald, striding up to her. Bruised eyes drooped below soaked eyebrows, his armour weighed him down as he’d seen no rest this night, or the night before.

  ‘Yes?’ she replied.

  ‘Been up for days—if I gotta fight I’ll be useless. A half hour is all it’d take.’

  ‘Not possible,’ she said, but clicked her fingers. A healer ran to her.

  ‘Yes, Priestess,’ said the healer.

  ‘Hawrald’s body needs refreshing.’

  The soldier stammered, eyes bulged. ‘Oh…er…well.’

  ‘Do as I say, soldier,’ said the priestess. ‘The healing will take less time, and you won’t require rest for three days after, I assure you.’

  ‘I would happily heal you, brave sir,’ said the healer, who seemed about his age.

  ‘Halt!’ Priestess Jewlsa yelled at the women around her.

  The group stopped.

  ‘Lay down, Hawrald.’

  ‘My armour is—’

  The healers undid his lower armour, removed it, then proceeded to take down his trousers.

  ‘Cover them as they heal,’ ordered the priestess, moving around him.

  The healers formed a tight circle with their backs to the soldier. One healer kneeled at his head and covered his eyes, making him jerk away.

  ‘Don’t like that,’ he said.

  ‘It is forbidden to see which healer heals you,’ replied the girl.

  Hawrald closed his eyes, exhaling, trying to relax. Most men struggled to participate naturally in healings.

  The healer’s caresses were gentle, efficient but precise in making him aroused. As they were trained. When the healer sat, the priestess watched Hawrald’s body tense. Men had often jested over healings, making them erotic in storytelling, but the process of healing was not pleasurable, and for the afflicted, in fact quite painful.

  Fortunately for Hawrald, this experience served only to refresh him. When his pants were tied, he sighed with relief. Then his face relaxed with bliss. His eyes grew glossy, his mouth turned upwards into a smile. The healers reattached his armour.

  ‘Time to go,’ said Priestess Jewlsa.

  The autumn leaves glowed, drenched in the eastern sunlight. Dewy leaves dripped golden droplets to the ground. Priestess Jewlsa watched the road, searching for enemies. But none came.

  At midday, the healers approached a caravan of merchants dying from the plague. Priestess Jewlsa ordered them healed. The men were so grateful they joined the healers, abandoning their goods and wares, although Hawrald took a horse to ride.

  ‘Priestess,’ said Hawrald riding up to her. ‘I gots to go back—if the king intends to come after you, I might be able to lead him astray.’

  The priestess touched his leg. ‘I am indebted to you.’

  ‘Don’t stop,’ he said. ‘Keep to the trees if you can.’ Hawrald kicked his horse into a gallop yelling, ‘Yargh!’

  As he rode away, the priestess prayed to the gods. Let him triumph.

  35

  Toxiv

  At sunrise, Toxiv and Healer Euka hid in the forest while Abyslam went into a small village outside of Ayo to barter with a stable hand selling horses on behalf of his master. By mid-morning Abyslam returned to their hiding place leading two saddled old nags, a bag of horse feed, and two knapsacks with junk in them.

  ‘What’s this?’ Toxiv said, pulling out a box full of different coloured river stones. She caught a whiff of horse stench and covered her nose. ‘Ugh, it smells like a corpse.’

  ‘Important persons such as yourself are seen on fine beasts, not scruffy mounts. If soldiers see you riding, you’ll look like travellers selling knickknacks.’ Abyslam handed Toxiv the map Hawrald had drawn. ‘Can I talk to you alone?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘I’ll take care of the horses,’ said Healer Euka, gathering up the reins.

  Toxiv and Abyslam walked towards the sound of running water and happened upon a creek. Orange and yellow leaves drifted slowly with the current on the water’s surface. Above, the trees were starting to bare as winter descended upon the land. They sat on a dry log together.

  ‘Here,’ Abyslam pointed at the map. ‘That’s our location. You only ride at night, you rest in the woods during the day. Tonight you ride north to the gap of the Mountain Pass then gallop across that road heading west until you reach this forest.

  ‘I know it,’ said Toxiv. ‘I’ve been hunting there.’

  ‘Hunting?’ Abyslam asked, looking intrigued.

  ‘A high priestess must venture outside her apothecary sometimes,’ she said, chuckling.

  Smiling he put his finger back to the map. ‘Good, then you’ll know to ride north towards Borrelia, then west to Lightend Sanctuary.’

  ‘Yes. The route makes sense,’ Toxiv said, taking the parchment. ‘And you?’

  Abyslam clasped his hands together, staring at the glugging water. ‘I will leave you soon.’

  ‘For how long?’

  He stared at her curiously. ‘Why?’

  ‘Lightend Sanctuary needs you.’

  Abyslam smirked at her. ‘Priestess. I will be yours to command.’

  Toxiv leaned closer to him, heart racing. ‘I never feel things.’

  ‘Things?’ he said, swallowing.

  ‘For people,’ she said letting the words roll seductively off her tongue.

  ‘What feelings don’t you usually have?’

  She took his hand and placed it over her heart. ‘Beating. Breathing. You do this to me.’

  The playfulness left Abyslam’s eyes as he lifted his leg to straddle the log, facing her. ‘Am I not too young for you? I am a man, you…are a goddess. Your body is pure. Holy.’

  For the first time in years, she covered her mouth and laughed loudly.

  Abyslam leaned back as if insulted.

  ‘Oh no, please.’ She laughed, taking his other hand. ‘You’re so passionate, I like that about you. I’m not passionate. I’m old. Very old. You speak the poetic fancies of youth.’

  ‘You only laugh because you don’t take your feelings seriously,’ he said with such intensity that she could make no reply.

  Gently, he raised his hand to her face, caressing her skin. A fever bloomed in her body: lust, desire, all the feelings healers banished from their hearts. He kissed her deeply, and she pushed back, melting against him.

  Abyslam finally pulled away. ‘I must go
. I will see you again.’

  Toxiv watched him walk away, heart racing, mind full of desire for his body. The next time she laid eyes on him, she would never let him go. Ever.

  36

  Lord Morkat

  Lord Morkat chewed the fingernail on his index finger as Priestess Yelloza, once again, broke his peace to discuss official matters. Tales of the Death Plague disturbed him, and he found himself retreating more and more into this untainted, peaceful wilderness.

  There were no troubles here.

  ‘Good news, I trust, Priestess?’ he asked, his face a hopeful mask.

  She gave a burdened smile. ‘Regrettably, My Lord, I bring no fortunate tidings.’ She took a deep breath. ‘The plague is upon us. Three cases were confirmed in the infirmary last night.’

  Lord Morkat closed his eyes. If the city walls could not keep the plague out, then not one person in Senya was safe.

  ‘Very well,’ he said, feeling his breath grow shallow and rapid; the garden’s spirit felt restless now. ‘Begin a program of isolation for the women. Burn the bodies of those who die. Heal the men. Any symptom should be treated immediately.’

  That command seemed to upset the priestess greatly and for a moment she said nothing at all.

  ‘Speak up, Priestess,’ he instructed.

  ‘Another letter from Lightend Sanctuary has arrived to inform us about the plague. We have many healers, My Lord, but I fear we need more as the plague can kill within one to two days of infectious indications.’

  ‘I see.’

  ‘All the chickens are dead before they’ve hatched,’ said the priestess. ‘A raven from Ayo near Juxon City arrived.’ Priestess Yelloza held out parchment for him to read. Lord Morkat scanned the writing, feeling his heart sink.

  ‘As you can see, My Lord,’ said the priestess. ‘The king’s wicked decree left the elder healers to the mercy of the masses, including High Priestess Toxiv. He imprisoned the younger healers.’