Rise of the Blood Royal dobas-3

by Robert Newcomb

  He turned to look at Lucius. “That was foolish of me,” he said angrily. “I should have ordered him interrogated before killing him.”

  Lucius shrugged his shoulders. “Perhaps,” he offered. “But before we started this campaign thePon Q’tar assured us that theJin’Sai cannot reach this side of the world. We must ignore the dead barbarian’s babbling for the tripe that it was. Let us continue onward to the battleground.”

  Vespasian nodded and took up his reins. “You’re right,” he answered. “We have larger concerns than the mad ramblings of one dying katsugai who wished to insult me.” Taking up his whip, he prepared to get his stallions moving again.

  But just as Vespasian raised his arm he again felt the dreaded, all too familiar sensation overcome him. Within moments his heart was racing wildly and cold sweat poured from his skin. His muscles trembled uncontrollably, forcing him to drop the reins and whip.

  Persephone, he thought desperately as he sensed his consciousness fading. Only she understands…I must return to her before Lucius knows…and my troops…above all else, they must not see their emperor fall…

  Sinking to his knees, Vespasian realized that it was already too late. He weakly reached up to grab at Lucius’ armor as the stunned First Tribune looked down at his lifelong friend in horror.

  “My emperor!” he gasped. “What overcomes you so?”

  “Take me back to Persephone!” Vespasian whispered. “Only she knows what to do! Hide me in the chariot and be sure that no one else sees me like this-my fate is in your hands-above all, do not let thePon Q’tar see me this way…”

  Finally losing consciousness, Vespasian collapsed to the chariot floor.

  Nonplussed, Lucius looked around. Hordes of legionnaires still obediently passed by the chariot on their way toward the battle scene. Some had surely noticed what happened, Lucius realized. He also instinctively knew that whatever was wrong with his emperor, above all else, Vespasian must be hurried away from here.

  With Vespasian’s desperate pleas still ringing in his ears, the First Tribune reached down and gently slid Vespasian’s limp body forward near the chariot’s riser where it would not be seen. Then he quickly took up the reins and slapped them hard across the stallions’ haunches.

  Wheeling the chariot around, he charged back up the hill.

  CHAPTER XXXVIII

  IN THE END IT WOULD TAKE THE PRINCESS OF EUTRACIA twelve hours to regain consciousness. As her mind slowly sharpened, the last thing she could recall was looking up in terror as the Blood Viper’s talons slashed down toward her throat. Moments later, a lesser degree of the terrible pain that had ripped through her entire system, and especially her left eye, returned. As her acuteness continued to strengthen, she took stock of her surroundings.

  It was nighttime in Eutracia, and she lay in her private quarters. The royal palace and the surrounding grounds were peaceful, with only the usual sounds of the night creatures wafting through the air to keep her company. She was dressed in one of her nightgowns, and as she came around, the pain that still racked her body, face, and left eye slowly rose. But I am alive, she thought gratefully, although I may have no right to be.

  She soon realized that her vision was deeply compromised; everything looked darkly shadowed and her depth perception was markedly skewed. The effect was chilling. Because only one candelabrum on the far side of the room was in use, her chambers looked unusually dark. Perhaps that is why I cannot see as I should, she thought. Then she sensed an unfamiliar pressure against her left eye.

  Moving as best her sore muscles and joints would allow, she leaned over toward one bedstand and grasped the hand mirror that always lay there. With a trembling hand she started to lift it before her face.

  But just as she did, an unseen power forced the mirror down and away. As though her arm suddenly belonged to someone else, she felt an unearthly force press it down onto the bed. The sensation was not painful, and she soon realized that there was no point in trying to fight it, for it was born of the craft. Clearly she was not alone.

  “I am sorry, Princess,” came a familiar voice from the shadows along the far side of the room. “I thought it necessary that we talk before you see your reflection. I apologize for not removing the hand mirror from your bedstand earlier. I should have guessed that it would be the first thing you’d reach for after you awakened.”

  Although Shailiha desperately wanted to see her reflection, she knew that there was no use in arguing. The voice had been Faegan’s, and he would use the craft to enforce his wishes. Because of how much he cared for her, his decisions would surely be in her best interests. But unlike many times before, on this night she was not easily comforted by his presence. Clearly he was preventing her from seeing her face, causing her to wonder just how bad her injuries were. Like a spectator unable to take part in some drama she was watching, she saw the mirror slide from her grip and float across the room to disappear into the shadows. After taking a deep breath, she lay back on her silken pillows.

  Moments later Faegan wheeled his chair from the shadows to come and sit by her bedside. He looked tired and drawn, and her hand mirror lay in his lap. Although he tried to smile, even with her hampered vision Shailiha could see that his cheerful expression was forced.

  “How long have you been here?” she asked.

  “Twelve hours,” he answered, “the same as you. I have been with you every moment since Traax brought you to me. It was he who saved you from the viper.”

  “How bad are my injuries?” she demanded. “You must tell me the truth if I am to lead Eutracia. Like each of us, I am only as good as my limitations.”

  In the flickering candlelight Faegan smiled again, and this time she thought that his expression seemed more genuine. “You’re starting to reason like a sorceress,” he said. “I’m going to have to be more careful around you.” In a silent attempt to avoid her question, he grasped her down comforter and pulled it up a bit higher.

  “You still haven’t answered me,” Shailiha insisted as she tried to sit up. But the strain of moving suddenly increased her pain and she was forced to again lie back. Sighing, she closed her eyes for a moment. As she did so, she felt the lashes of her left eye brush against something, and she knew.

  She turned toward Faegan and looked into his face as best she could. “I’m wearing an eye patch, aren’t I?” she asked.

  Faegan nodded.

  “Is my left eye blind?” the princess asked quietly.

  “Only you can answer that,” Faegan said. “In one more hour I will remove the patch and we will know.”

  “Why must we wait?” she asked.

  “The ShashidanInkai said that the enchantment would do its best work in thirteen hours,” he answered. “The craft formula that they supplied to help heal you was the most elegant and convoluted that I have ever seen. It took Aeolus and me two hours to grasp it, and even now we’re not sure whether we applied it correctly.”

  “The ShashidanInkai?” Shailiha asked. “What are you talking about?”

  Faegan smiled and placed his hand atop hers. “There is much to tell you,” he said. “And like most news, only part of it is good.”

  “Is Morganna all right?” Shailiha demanded.

  “She’s fine,” Faegan answered. “Shawna looks after her.”

  “Did we defeat Khristos?” the princess asked.

  Faegan shook his head. “The Viper Lord and many of his servants escaped us again. I wish that I could tell you that we gave as good as we got, but I can’t. TheIllendium has been vaporized, and although theCavalon is repairable, she was severely damaged by fire. Khristos’ goal wasn’t to take Tammerland or to see how many people he could kill. The attack on the capital was only a ruse designed to draw the Conclave and our forces away from the palace so that he could steal one Black Ship and destroy the other. I’m sorry to say that he nearly succeeded.”

  Shailiha looked away in shame. “It’s my fault,” she said softly. “I ordered us straight into it.” />
  “No,” Faegan said. “We’re all to blame. Even Traax agreed that we needed to rush every available warrior into the heart of Tammerland. But there is other news, Your Highness, and it grieves me deeply to be its bearer.”

  “Is it about Tristan?” she asked urgently.

  “No,” Faegan answered. “He, Wigg, and Tyranny have finally reached Shashida and they are safe. The others remain aboard the Black Ships. But during the fighting in Tammerland we lost a valuable Conclave member.”

  Shailiha closed her eyes. “Who…?” she asked.

  “Abbey is dead,” Faegan answered. “I am sorry.”

  Heartbroken, Shailiha sank lower in her bed. She had loved Abbey, as they all had. Then she thought about Wigg and how badly her death would hurt him.

  “Does Wigg know?” she asked.

  “I can’t say,” Faegan answered. “As we speak, he, Tristan, and Tyranny are conferring with Mashiro and the otherInkai members for the first time.”

  “Mashiro…?” Shailiha asked. “That’s a strange-sounding name.”

  “Indeed,” Faegan answered. “The Shashidan dialect contains far more idiosyncrasies than we had imagined. In any event, Tristan, Wigg, and Tyranny were rendered unconscious when the Shashidans took them into their portal to help finish their journey. While Tristan was unconscious they used his medallion to contact us. They told us much about themselves, including how they knew that you had been injured. But they cut the session short so that they could give us an enchantment to apply to your blood. They promised that after their meeting with Tristan they would contact us again.”

  Despite all the bad news, a mischievous smile crossed Faegan’s face. “We’ve done it, Shailiha!” he said. Slapping his hand against one knee he let go a self-satisfied cackle. “At long last we’ve reached Shashida!”

  Shailiha wanted to demand that Faegan tell her everything that he had learned about Shashida, but her sense of duty returned to insist that the situation in Eutracia take precedence. Putting her curiosity aside for the moment, she asked, “Has Khristos been sighted since the last attack?”

  “No,” Faegan answered. “Even so, there’s good news regarding him.”

  “What do you mean?” she asked.

  Faegan gave the princess a conspiratorial wink. “TheInkai know much about him,” Faegan answered. “They explained how he appears and disappears at will and why he is trying to destroy the Conclave. Because he is a Vagaries wizard, he feels compelled to destroy the Vigors but the full answer goes far deeper than that. And as has so often been the case, the explanation has to do with Failee.”

  For the next half hour Faegan told the princess about how Khristos and the embryonic vipers had been condemned into the river by Failee, how and why they had finally arisen after all this time, and that theInkai suspected that Khristos was now in the service of thePon Q’tar. TheJin’Saiou listened intently, hanging on the wizard’s every word. When he finished, she tiredly nodded her head.

  “That explains much,” she said. “But because they can hide in Eutracia’s many rivers and use them to travel about unseen, finding and killing them will be very difficult. It’s no wonder that our Night Witches couldn’t find them. They can seek refuge anywhere a river runs.”

  “There’s more to the tale,” Faegan said, “but theInkai did not relate it to us. They wanted to be sure that you were looked after first. In any event, they said that they might be able to help us destroy Khristos and his vipers-not by direct intervention, but in some oblique way. I can only hope that they will tell us how when we next view each other.”

  Just then Faegan and Shailiha saw an azure hue build on the room’s far side. The glow soon revealed a large hourglass sitting atop a table. As Shailiha looked at it, she saw that a few remaining sand grains were tumbling from the top globe into the bottom one. When the last grain fell, the azure hue disappeared.

  “The thirteen hours are up,” Faegan said. “It’s time to check your vision. Close both eyes. Do not open them until I tell you.”

  Shailiha’s heart hammered in her chest. With her eyes shut she saw only darkness. Is this all that my left eye will ever see again? she wondered. Knowing that she must resign herself to whatever Faegan wanted, she took a deep breath, then nodded her assent.

  Faegan moved his chair closer and gently removed the dark patch and its strap from her face and head. As the patch was lifted away, the temptation to open her eyes gripped the princess, but she did as she had been told and kept them shut.

  For several moments she felt Faegan’s fingertips gently explore her left cheek and eyelid. Waiting in silence this way was torturous, and she desperately wanted to open her eyes and learn the truth. Then she remembered that this was Faegan she was dealing with and that only what he wished to happen would come to pass. As the maddening seconds went by she could only wait and wonder. Finally his probing fingers left her skin.

  “You may now open your eyes, Princess,” Faegan said. “Tell me what you see. Allow your vision to adjust, and be in no hurry to answer.”

  Hoping against hope, Shailiha opened her eyes. Several moments later her heart fell. To her horror, her overall vision was worse than when she had worn the eye patch. The scene coming through her left eye was milky, as if a white fog covered it. The vision in her right eye was fine, but with her left eye so badly occluded, she found herself in the dreadful position of nearly asking Faegan to put back the eye patch. Although while wearing the patch her depth perception was flawed, at least the milky fog wasn’t visible. Tears welled up, but she grimly blinked them back.

  Sensing the worst, Faegan looked at his hands. Soon the telltale shininess in his eyes rivaled hers.

  “Tell me,” he said softly.

  “My left eye is blind,” she answered.

  “Is it totally blind,” he asked gently, “or only occluded? TheInkai said that occlusions might persist for a time before clearing, but there are no guarantees. Place your hand over your right eye and tell me what you see.”

  Shailiha did as Faegan asked. She looked around the room to find that she could see shimmers of candlelight and irregular shapes mixed with the fog, but little else. After lowering her hand she explained her findings to the wizard.

  “Do not be discouraged,” he said. “As I said, theInkai warned that this might be the case. In the meantime I suggest that you wear the eye patch and let your damaged eye rest.”

  “Before I do, I want the mirror,” she said adamantly. “I must know…”

  After thinking for a moment, Faegan nodded, then reluctantly gave her the mirror. Shailiha raised it before her injured face without hesitation. As the shock overcame her she took a quick breath.

  At first she didn’t recognize herself. Her left iris had been invaded by a milky-white substance and the skin around her eye was red and swollen. Then she looked at the left side of her face. Deep red pock marks pitted her cheek, neck, and jawline. Closing her eyes, she lowered her head.

  “The damage to your skin will heal,” Faegan said, “and the pain and stiffness in your joints and muscles will eventually subside. But I cannot say what added progress your left eye might make.”

  Finding that she had no words, Shailiha only nodded. When she had first realized that she was wearing an eye patch, she would have gladly done anything to be rid of it. But as Faegan gently put it back into its place and her vision was no longer occluded, she found wearing the simple black piece of felt and accompanying string to be strangely reassuring. Steeling her resolve, she looked Faegan squarely in the face. What was done was done. It was time for her to start giving orders rather than taking them.

  “Help me out of this bed,” she demanded.

  Faegan shook his head. “No,” he protested. “You need to rest.”

  Summoning what strength she had, Shailiha reached out to take hold of Faegan’s worn black robe and pull him nearer. The wizard curiously raised one eyebrow, reminding her of Wigg. He could easily have used the craft to stop her but he didn’t
.

  “I’m quite serious,” she said. “Get me on my feet. If I am to rule Eutracia in Tristan’s absence, I refuse to do so from my bed!”

  After pondering her order for a moment, Faegan decided to obey. Perhaps taking charge of the future is the best medicine for her, he thought, rather than lying there and wondering what it might do to her. He smiled and gave her a nod.

  “As you wish, Princess,” he said.

  Faegan raised one arm and summoned the craft. At once the bedsheets and comforter lifted away to drift to the floor. Then the craft levitated the princess into the air and onto her feet. As the spell dissipated, she gradually found her footing.

  “Can you walk without help?” Faegan asked.

  “I think so,” she answered. Then her expression softened. “I’m sorry if I was harsh with you, but I must do this. Please leave me. I need to dress.”

  “As you wish,” he said. “Do you have any other orders?”

  Shailiha nodded. “I’m starving,” she said. “I know that it’s late, but I want Shawna to prepare a full breakfast for me, including lots of hot, extra-strong tea. I want Traax to personally deliver his battle report to me as soon as he awakens. And return my medallion to me. I can guess why you took it, but I’ll have it back. When theInkai contact me I will inform you at once.”

  Nodding, Faegan removed the enchanted medallion from his person and handed it to her. As she placed its chain around her neck, her expression fell. She gave the wizard a worried look.

  “There’s one more thing,” she added quietly. “I realize that Morganna will be fast asleep, but have her brought to me. There is something that I must know.”

  Faegan understood, and his heart went out to her. “Of course,” he replied.

  Knowing that there was little more to be said, he swiveled his chair around and wheeled it across the princess’s quarters. Calling the craft to open the door, he steered his chair into the hallway and the door closed quietly behind him.

  Shailiha shuffled painfully across the room toward her wardrobe, gingerly trying to become accustomed to her aching body and impaired vision. She hurt everywhere, but she also supposed that the more she pushed herself, the quicker she would recover. After lighting more candles, she changed from her gown into a pair of close-fitting black breeches, a white silk blouse, and a sleeveless brown leather doublet. Putting on her knee boots was an immense challenge, but she finally managed.