Rise of the Blood Royal dobas-3

by Robert Newcomb

  After running her fingers through her long blond hair, she was breathing heavily and sweating lightly. She slowly crossed the floor to sit gratefully in one of the comfortable balcony chairs overlooking the palace grounds. The night air was sweet and cooling. After taking a few deep breaths she regained a modicum of composure.

  And so I am partly blind, she thought. But my body and mind remain intact, so therefore I can still rule. And rule I shall.

  As the night creatures sang and the stars twinkled in the sky, Shailiha explored her feelings. Her personal circumstances had changed, perhaps forever. This pain was new, but older, even deeper wounds that had come long before these new ones still scarred her heart. Since the death of her husband, Frederick, she had felt desperately alone, despite all the people and Minions who shared this great palace.

  Morganna had helped to fill the void left by Frederick’s passing, but since then there had been no love like that which Frederick had given her. For a time after his death she believed that her love for her child and the love that Morganna gave her in return would be enough to fulfill her. But she later realized that this vacuum would be unique and long lasting, regardless of how much she and her growing child loved one another. She needed a man’s arms around her. She wanted a man’s strong but careful touch, his scent, his passion. She wanted to be swept away-even if only for one night-so that she might fully experience womanhood once more. But there had been no such passion in her life for more than three years, and she deeply mourned its loss.

  Because of the new injuries to her face and eye, added concerns unfolded in her heart-concerns about which she was at once sure and unsure. If her injuries did not heal, the likelihood of finding romantic love would be dampened still further. As much as that thought plagued her, another plagued her more. Morganna’s presence had partly filled the hole in Shailiha’s heart, but without her daughter’s love and trust, that hole would only widen again, perhaps irrevocably. And so she had demanded to see her daughter straightaway. She had to know, before trying to carry on and rule the land that she and her brother so loved.

  As she sat there with her thoughts, a soft knocking could be heard against her doors.

  “Enter,” Shailiha called out hoarsely.

  The doors parted to reveal Shawna and Morganna standing there. Shawna was dressed in her usual work clothes, and the precocious three-year-old obediently held the gnome’s calloused hand. Morganna was clothed in a simple red and white checked dress, white leggings, and shiny black shoes. Her long blond hair lay behind her neck, collected by a jeweled pin. As Morganna looked toward the balcony to find her mother, her face suddenly changed from delight to fear. Cringing slightly, she lifted Shawna’s apron before her face, trying to find safety there.

  Shailiha felt her heart break, but she continued to smile for Morganna’s sake. Shawna gave Shailiha a concerned but knowing look, telling the princess that she had been fully informed of her situation. Then the gnome pursed her lips and nodded, tacitly signaling her deep sympathy.

  Shailiha stretched out her arms. “It’s all right, Morganna,” she said. “Please come to me. I’ve missed you.”

  Morganna moved slightly away from the protection of Shawna’s apron, but she refused to venture farther. The look on her face now spoke of both fear and confusion.

  “Mamma…?” she asked softly.

  “Yes, it’s me,” Shailiha answered. “I’m a little bit sick, but I’ll be better soon.”

  Morganna looked up at Shawna as if silently asking what she should do. After giving the princess a wink, Shawna scowled at Morganna and put her hands akimbo.

  “Don’t just stand here, child,” she said. “Go to your mother. I must get back to the palace kitchens and cook up a great breakfast for you two. Now scat!”

  Morganna swallowed hard, then started taking small, unsure steps toward the balcony. As she neared, she realized that the person in the chair really was her mother, and her expression changed from fear to concern. But as she reached Shailiha’s chair, the princess was overjoyed to see her daughter suddenly reach up to be taken into her arms.

  No amount of pain could stop Shailiha now. She scooped her daughter up and sat her in her lap. As Morganna’s young eyes explored her mother’s wounds and the mysterious new eye patch, at first she seemed frightened again. Then, to Shailiha’s delight, she smiled.

  “It’s a game isn’t it, Mamma?” she asked. “You’ve made a game just for the two of us.”

  Unsure of how to respond, the princess decided to agree. Holding her daughter closer, she said, “Yes, Morganna, it’s a game. And when it’s over I will look the way I did before.” Holding Morganna closer yet, she rocked her in her arms. Then she looked across the room to see Shawna brush away a nagging tear.

  “I’ll take my leave now, Your Grace,” she said. “The breakfast and all…”

  As Shailiha pressed her lips against her daughter’s forehead she gave Shawna a little nod. The gnome let herself out and the doors closed again.

  Morganna pulled away a bit to again look into her mother’s face. This time the child’s fear was gone, and Shailiha finally felt her heart calm. The worst has passed, she realized. Morganna again reached up to touch her mother’s ravaged cheek.

  “I love you, Mamma,” came the soft, longed-for words.

  “I love you too,” Shailiha whispered back.

  For the first time since she was injured, theJin’Saiou ’s tears flowed freely, and this time she did nothing to hold them back.

  CHAPTER XXXIX

  MASHIRO’S WORDS STRUCK TRISTAN NEARLY SPEECHLESS. He quickly looked at Tyranny and Wigg and saw that they were as amazed as he.

  Surely Mashiro can’t mean what he just said! Tristan thought. The Tome and the two Scrolls of the Ancients are priceless artifacts of the craft! How could he possibly suggest that they be destroyed? And what could Mashiro mean by “dismantling the craft”?

  Still unable to believe, Tristan stared incredulously at eachInkai member. The resolute expressions on their faces said that they were firmly committed to Mashiro’s bizarre announcement.

  Tristan glared at Mashiro. “Are you mad?” he breathed. “The Tome and the Scrolls are paramount in their importance! Hundreds of thousands of lives on both sides of the craft have been sacrificed to possess them! How could you evensuggest that they be destroyed? And what did you mean aboutdismantling the craft when you have spent aeons trying to save it?”

  “There is much for you and your friends to learn, Jin’Sai, ” Mashiro answered calmly. “This decision was not reached lightly, I assure you. But to save the craft we must first eliminate some of its more advanced disciplines. Even then, we can do so only after Rustannica has been defeated and the world reunited under your rule. For the moment, let us not discuss our far-ranging plans for the craft. Instead, allow us to tell you about Rustannica, Shashida, and how we came to become embroiled in this terrible struggle. I will start by explaining the Rustannican government and culture.”

  For the next hour Mashiro described the dangerous nation lying to the north. He explained the Rustannican government workings in detail, including the roles of thePon Q’tar, the emperor and empress, the Priory of Virtue and the Femiculi, and the many tribunes who together constituted the voting body called the Suffragat. He then went on to describe the workings of the horrific Rustannican war machine with its legions, armada, and Blood Stalkers. Giving a detailed description of the Rustannican social order, he explained the differences among the krithians, hematites, phrygians, and skeens. The grotesque role of Rustannica’s many coliseums was then outlined, as was her dwindling gold supply and resulting economic emergency. Finally he told them of Vespasian’s new campaign to take the Shashidan gold mines.

  When Mashiro finished, Wigg, Tristan, and Tyranny sat for a time in silent astonishment. After casting an incredulous look at his fellow Conclave members, Tristan looked back at Mashiro.

  “I beg the Afterlife,” he breathed. “It sounds monstrous. Are t
he Rustannicans truly that barbaric?”

  Mashiro nodded. “Interestingly, they callus the barbarians,” he replied. “Rustannica is a victim of her own excesses. Although many laws exist, morality does not figure prominently in their writing or enforcement. Instead, all the laws are skewed in favor of those possessing endowed, left-leaning blood. Unless one is a member of the krithian class or of the Suffragat, his or her life belongs to the state. But to fully understand Rustannica there is much more that you need to learn.”

  After taking another sip of umake, Mashiro placed his hands flat on the table. “Things in Rustannica are far from what they seem,” he said. “Only thePon Q’tar and one other member of the Rustannican government know the whole truth. Everyone else-including Vespasian and Persephone-wrongly believes that the Vagaries are empowered by an eternal flame. This imaginative lie serves thePon Q’tar ’s needs well. Ever since thePon Q’tar clerics banded together and convinced other mystics of left-leaning blood to follow them and break away from Shashida to form their own nation, they have told the Rustannican people that the Vagaries and Vigors are empowered by two opposing, magical azure flames. To add credibility to their lie, thePon Q’tar clerics spun another falsehood, claiming that in a courageous act of heroism they stole the Vagaries flame from us barbaric Vigors worshippers. It was then supposedly brought to Rustannica, where it could be forever nurtured and protected from Shashidan tampering in our never-ending quest to destroy the Vagaries.”

  Pausing for a moment, Mashiro took another sip of the heady umake. “To add weight to their lie, they gave the flame a physical presence, then built a magnificent Rotunda in which to house it and to provide living quarters for the Priory Sisters,” he added. “It is the Sisters’ task to ‘watch over the flame and ensure its life so that the Vagaries shall never perish.’ As you can imagine, the populace sees the Priory Sisters as immensely important to protecting the craft and their continued way of life. In truth, the flame that the sisters protect is a sham that even they believe. It is the role of the reigning Femiculi to reenergize the flame on each coming of the new moon. But the enchantment taught to her by thePon Q’tar to perform this ‘miracle of the craft’ does nothing but ensure that the useless flame burns for another month. Except for helping to convince the populace of thePon Q’tar ’s great hoax, the flame serves no purpose whatsoever.”

  “Why did thePon Q’tar weave such an elaborate lie?” Wigg asked. “Why not simply tell their citizens the truth?”

  “Rustannica is rife with secrets and lies,” Hoshi answered. “As you already know, we believe that one side of the craft cannot exist without the other. ThePon Q’tar created the myth of the flame to disguise various truths about the craft, such as the Orbs of the Vigors and Vagaries. Because the two orbs remain trapped on the world’s other side, their existences can be easily refuted. Like the Sorceresses of the Coven, thePon Q’tar ’s use of the Vagaries has blinded them to the truth. They are aware of the theory that each side of the craft needs the other, but like Failee and her followers, they refuse to believe it. They hope that with Vespasian’s coming they can use his immensely powerful blood to finally smash Shashida and destroy all the Vigors practitioners west of the Tolenkas. Because the Orb of the Vigors is safe from their reach, the Vigors would continue to exist-at least in theory. But with no one of right-leaning blood left on our side of the world to employ the Vigors, here that side of the craft would be as good as extinct. That’s another reason why thePon Q’tar and the Heretics have done all they could to help destroy Vigors practitioners and the Vigors Orb on your side of the world. With those deeds done, much of their mission would be finished. But what they refuse to believe is that should their ultimate goals be achieved, all magic would cease to exist and the entire world would be plunged into a unique form of mayhem and darkness from which it would never emerge.”

  “There is another reason why thePon Q’tar perpetuates the hoax of the eternal flame,” Midori spoke up. “Because of Rustannica’s monetary woes, an internal revolt is brewing. If the Rustannican citizens knew the whole truth about the craft and what would truly happen to the world if the Vigors were destroyed, they might rise up and demand not only a halt to the war, but that all magic practitioners again try to live in peace. Because of the great manpower needed to prosecute Vespasian’s new campaign, there are likely not enough legions left at home to quell a powerful civil uprising. Aside from aJin’Sai orJin’Saiou finally reaching Shashida, that is thePon Q’tar ’s greatest fear-especially now that their economy is on the verge of collapse and the government has launched an all-out war to seize our gold. If our mines are taken, the Rustannican war machine can continue to wreak havoc against us for aeons to come.”

  Tristan sat back in his chair. He grasped everything he had just heard, but hosts of questions remained. He turned to look at Mashiro.

  “If Vespasian’s advance is stopped and Rustannica can one day be brought to her knees, why would you then wish to destroy the Tome and the Scrolls of the Ancients?” Tristan asked. “And why would you ‘dismantle’ the craft? If the Vagaries disciples can be neutralized without destroying the orb that empowers their side of the craft, why would you contemplate such a thing?”

  “Indeed,” Wigg added. “We mean no disrespect, but what you’re proposing suggests destroying everything we have spent our lives trying to protect.”

  Renjiro folded his arms across his chest and gave Wigg and Tristan a compassionate look. “We understand your concern,” he said. “Your limited successes in better understanding and using the craft have been admirable. And from your less educated viewpoints, our suggestions must surely seem antithetical. But you must hear us out. Over the aeons, even our use of the Vigors has become a source of great concern, to say nothing of the death and destruction the Vagaries practitioners have caused. If we are to succeed in saving the craft, we must first eliminate some of its higher applications and destroy forever the tools that have allowed those applications to flourish. The craft is in desperate need of salvation, for its evolution during the last few thousand years has denigrated Vigors and Vagaries practitioners alike. Although this downward slide was started by thePon Q’tar as a way to destroy us, we were forced to adopt some of the same techniques in order to fight off their constant onslaughts. If both sides of magic and their practitioners are to eventually live in peace, the craft must become much more the way it once was.”

  “Are you referring to the plan that was outlined to me by the Envoys of Crysenium?” Tristan asked. “It was their wish that I return to Crysenium and my blood signature be altered to the vertical so that it shows no bias. Then I was to try to find a rebel organization called the League of Whispers and eventually convince the Rustannicans that a peaceful solution could be found. The Envoys hoped that such a display of trust would carry much weight and perhaps lead us onto the road toward peace.”

  “As did the rest of us,” Mashiro answered. “Some of those same Envoys once sat at this table, and it was in this room that their plan was approved. But the situation has changed markedly in the short time between then and now. Because of Rustannica’s rapidly spiraling financial troubles and the advent of Vespasian’s new campaign, the Suffragat members would never entertain a peace proposal now, because this campaign has simply cost them too much of their already dwindling treasury funds. The die has been cast, and for Vespasian and thePon Q’tar this is a campaign of last resort. They simply don’t have the funds to sustain their country while spending decades conducting peace negotiations. They know that we could simply wait them out as they grow progressively poorer and further unable to control their restless populace. Vespasian and thePon Q’tar would never stand for that. We believe that the only way to stop them now is by vanquishing them in the field. In fact, we have no other choice, because if they take and hold our gold supplies we will soon find our economic situations reversed. But that is not to say that every facet of the Envoys’ peace plan was without merit.”

  “I stil
l don’t understand,” Tyranny said. “If you can vanquish the Rustannicans, what need would there be to ‘dismantle’ the craft?”

  “Despite the craft’s mazelike complexities, your question is perhaps best answered with two simple words,” Mashiro said.

  Wigg raised an eyebrow. “And what might they be?” he asked.

  Mashiro looked deeply into Wigg’s eyes. “Free will,” he said softly.

  Tristan glanced at Wigg to find a look of complete surprise. Then the First Wizard’s expression morphed into one of deep thought.

  “Are you all right?” Tristan asked.

  His thoughts racing, Wigg stared at Tristan with unseeing eyes, then blankly looked back at Mashiro.

  “I beg the Afterlife,” he breathed. “The Paragon, the forestallments, the Tome, and the Scrolls of the Ancients-they were all crutches! Everything is gradually spiraling out of control and taking craft practitioners from both sides into the abyss with it! The more advanced our craft use becomes, the more we hurt ourselves!”

  Pausing for a moment, Wigg simply stared into space. “I’m right, am I not?” he breathed. “I beg the Afterlife-how could we have been so blind? We worked so hard…we always believed that what we were doing was so right…”

  Tristan gave Wigg a concerned look. “What do you mean?” he asked.

  “As I said, we’re talking about free will,” Mashiro answered in the wizard’s stead. “The true purpose of uniting Shashida and Rustannica goes far deeper than just ending the War of Attrition. The unification’s greater goal will be not only to return all blood signature leans to the vertical, but also to forever rid the world of forestallments. This will allow a return to free will, which, because of blood signature lean, neither side truly possesses. Despite what you might have been led to believe, blood signatures did not always show a perceptible lean one way or the other. As endowed human beings evolved, so did this trait that so strongly influences them to pursue one side of the craft or the other. The stronger the blood quality, the stronger the compulsion. If all blood signatures can be aligned to the vertical without exception, perhaps blood signature lean can be wiped out for good. And without forestallments, people will again spend lifetimes learning to use magic rather than simply having its many gifts so easily imbued into their blood, thereby ending the overuse of the craft. Because the craft’s many gifts can be so readily imbued into endowed blood by forestallment, even here in Shashida many of our endowed persons have dedicated themselves to little more than lives of outright leisure. We have not yet succumbed to the depravity of the Rustannicans, but that is not to say it couldn’t happen. Hard work and the satisfaction of the struggle needed to learn the craft the traditional way-and with it a better appreciation of its many gifts-are becoming a thing of the past. Something earned by sweat and toil is far more treasured than that which has been effortlessly given. A new, unified culture will be forced to begin again, and to live in peace for the good of the craft and all mankind despite our differences. Forestallments were first conceived by thePon Q’tar to quickly empower their mystics with powerful, destructive gifts. They believed-and rightly so-that if they could do this fast enough, their mystics and soldiers could easily crush us. They nearly succeeded.”