by Platt, Sean
Jacob could almost feel Mason licking his chops.
Jacob was King of the Valkoer by birthright, but all of that changed when most of the Valkoer were killed off, and their home Kingdom rendered null.
This was a new Kingdom, made up of all the Forgotten City misfits, and ne’er do wells relegated to the ghetto. The Council no longer honored tradition. Hell, until Zol fought to form this city into a recognized power in The Realm by forcing a treaty, most citizens hated the Valkoer, seeing them as a threat to their existence.
If Zol were to die, Mason’s popularity with the Kingdom’s various factions would certainly enable him to mount a coup and claim the throne.
Father looked down at Jacob as if he hadn’t heard his request.
Louder, Jacob repeated, “I need to speak to you alone, my King.” He hated calling his father “my King” but knew that the old man preferred it in the company of others. Or perhaps he just hated being reminded that Jacob was his son.
“What is this about?”
“My trip to Earth.”
Father looked up, voice slightly slurred. “My Inner Council stays.”
Jacob wanted to argue, but Father’s agitated expression warned him not to. He didn’t want to start this important conversation on shaky ground, and needed Father on his side to push through his agenda.
“Very well, my King.” Jacob stepped in front of both the throne and the table with Mason and Barron.
“So,” Father began, “how did this trip go?”
Jacob looked at Mason, wishing the bastard wasn’t there, then reached into his pocket and drew the black pouch.
“I found them.”
“Found what?” Father asked.
“The answer to all of our problems.”
Jacob retrieved one of the six crystals from the bag and held it up. It was small, the size of a few cherries, glowing a brilliant red in his hand.
Father’s eyes widened, then, almost immediately, they looked tired again. “This has better not be another of your games.”
“Did you come all the way back with magick tricks?” Mason said, clearly annoyed.
Jacob was about to hand them the golden key, and still they treated him like a feckless child.
He fought the urge to argue or to tell these men how damn grateful they ought to be — the crystals could end centuries of Northern oppression. Then they could easily conquer Earth and have an endless supply of food.
“It’s the wizard.”
“What?” Mason said, confused.
Father also seemed baffled. “What wizard?”
“VVessolff.”
The King’s eyes were suddenly alert.
“VVessolff. After he helped Mother run away with John and Caleb, we forced him to create another portal. You’ll remember he did so after he vanished. Since you could no longer connect to him, we thought maybe he killed himself to protect whatever remaining knowledge he had about their location. We were partially correct, but didn’t know he had his apprentice kill him, then store his soul inside the crystals. His apprentice then took them to Earth and found human vessels to hide the crystals inside.”
“His apprentice?” Father looked appalled. “That stable girl? What was her name?”
“I don’t know. She vanished at the same time. We should have known he was up to something then.”
“So,” Father said, “you’re saying that his soul is in these crystals?”
“Yes, my King. And, more importantly, his power. He was The Last Great Wizard, able to create portals to Earth. Raise the dead. Do nearly anything. No one after The Great Purge has had a hundredth of his power.”
Father stared at Jacob, a glint in his eye.
Jacob smiled. “Do you see what we have here?”
“Here.” Father held out his hand, waiting for Jacob to fill it.
Jacob approached the throne, resisting an urge to give Mason a fuck-you smirk.
I’ve finally done something that will make Father proud of me, and there’s nothing you can do to fuck this up.
Jacob withdrew a crystal and placed it into his father’s hand.
The crystal brightened, then withered to black.
Father jumped and dropped the crystal.
Barron leaped from his seat and grabbed the crystal, clutching it tightly as if it might harm the King. “How dare you bring this in here?”
“The wizard can’t harm us!” Jacob yelled.
Father held out his other hand, waiting for the pouch and the rest of the crystals.
Mason blurted, “I don’t think that’s a good idea!”
“Relax,” Jacob said, doing his best not to smile at Mason’s ruffled feathers. “The wizard is a prisoner in that crystal and can’t do anything to us. But we can make him do things.”
Jacob handed the pouch to his father, wanting to wave his victory like a flag — it was all he could do to keep from racing through his carefully plotted plan, knowing he had to be careful. With Father, and his advisers.
“Make him do things?” Father stared down at the pouch, seemingly afraid to look inside.
“Yes, I’ve already used him to do a few things.”
“What sorts of … things?” Mason asked suspiciously.
Jacob smiled. “Whatever I wanted.”
With Father’s eyes still transfixed on the pouch, Jacob winked at Mason.
May as well get the portly pisser to back the fuck off.
Mason stared, surely not wanting to give Jacob any satisfaction. Barron stood, still holding and staring at the first crystal, which was now turning blue enough to match his eyes.
Mason turned to Zol. “We ought to lock these things up immediately. Elder Ponson can bar them in a spell.”
Father looked up. “Ponson will do no such thing.”
“But, my King, we don’t know what sort of threat these crystals pose. We must contain them before they are a peril to the Kingdom. Elder Ponson is the only one equipped to contain such magick.”
Father was getting angry, finally at Mason rather than Jacob.
“Why would I ever trust Ponson with these? I will never give that much power to a wizard again.”
“Elder Ponson is the oldest, most trustworthy member of what’s left of the Magick Guild. He is loyal, and has helped us every time we’ve asked.”
“You know whom else I trusted?” Father raised then shook the pouch. “This fucker!”
Mason looked to his feet, then turned his accusatory eyes on Jacob. The prince resisted every urge to smile, or wink, again, now unwilling to risk being seen as an aggressor by his father.
“And what would you have us do with this … this abomination?” Mason asked Jacob.
The Warriors Guild, which Mason had once led despite his not being a warrior, hated all things magick, except of course when they asked magick users to bless their weapons with some ability or another. But Mason’s disgust was practically choking him.
Jacob was loving every moment, but he had to be careful. If he came right out and said, “Hey, I think we ought to invade Earth and enslave its people as livestock to feast on!” he might overplay his hand and give Father a reason to lend Mason his ears.
He played it subtle instead — he could always work on Father later, when the Big Red Fucker wasn’t hanging around.
“I would have you do whatever you wanted, my King,” Jacob said, making a point to remind Mason who held the power. “At the very least, you could push back The North, perhaps reclaim the lands taken by The Hand of the Seven Gods, return it to our people. Why live behind these walls, on this forsaken island, when we can have our mountain homes back?”
Mason responded, “We have a tenuous agreement in place with The North, with The Hand, and with The Free People of The Southern Realm. Why instigate another war? Our people are tired of fighting. Tired of dying. We go to war, and The North will destroy us. The North’s technology and army is too much for us to fight. Hell, The Hand of the Seven now outnumber us!”
J
acob wanted to respond, to put Mason in a position where he seemed cowardly or perhaps in disagreement with Father. But it wasn’t necessary. The King was already there.
“So, you’d have us remain here, Viceroy Mason? Forever subject to The Hand?”
“Subject? They let us be in peace. How are we subject to them?”
“Because we are still beholden to them for our existence. Because, if you remember, they wished us all dead. Because we cannot freely leave this island! Because they have taken our homeland. We may be left in peace, but make no mistake, Viceroy Mason, we are their property.”
Mason, perhaps sensing that he couldn’t win the argument, or trying to conjure a reasoning that wouldn’t set off the King, nodded then looked to the ground.
Jacob, sensing a victory, tested his limits. “We all know it’s only a matter of time before The North, or The Hand, deems our presence inconvenient. Before they find some reason to take our land, to finish the job of exterminating us and the others.”
Even if Mason wouldn’t argue with the king, he wasn’t about to be bested by the prince.
“If they could so easily exterminate us, then they already would have! We work hard to maintain this kingdom, and they’re not about to pick an unnecessary quarrel. Well, some of us work hard, while others go galavanting on Earth.”
Jacob snapped.
“Galavanting? I’m sorry, I didn’t see anyone else, least of all the Fearless Former Head of the Warriors Guild, standing in line to risk their life to do what had to be done. When was the last time you actually did anything more than lap at my father’s feet?”
Mason lurched forward, fists clenched, ready to draw blood.
Good. Let’s play!
Jacob reached up, hand ready to catch the man’s fist. The moment his flesh touched Mason’s, he would gladly drain the bastard of his life, and forever remove this thorn from his side.
Barron, smartly, got between the two men, raising his hands to each of their chests.
“Calm yourselves. The both of you.”
“Enough!” Father screamed, thrusting his arms forward, fingertips touching before he thrust them apart, using his magick.
Mason and Jacob flew backward, each man landing on his ass — shocked and embarrassed.
Father stood from his throne, then floated above the table, casting his eyes down upon the fallen men. Though Zol’s frail frame swam in his all-black garb, he was alight with a new fire. Whether it was anger at his right hand and son arguing, or a desire to use the crystals, Jacob wasn’t sure.
But he was pleasantly surprised to see that Father still had some life inside him. Perhaps that would delay whatever designs Mason and The Council might have on the throne.
“I want you out!” Father yelled, pointing at Jacob.
“What? Me? He started it!”
“Yes, you! There is no place in this room for your impetuousness. I will not have you assault my Viceroy!”
“He came at me!”
“Enough!” Father shouted again.
Jacob seethed at being treated like a child, particularly in front of Mason. But only compliance would shrink the gulf between himself and his father.
Better to get up, lick his wounds, and return later.
He rose to his feet in concert with Mason, who was still eyeballing him as though expecting Jacob to attack.
Either reading the situation, or Mason’s mind, Father warned Jacob, “Leave, now, while I’m still asking.”
“Yes, my King,” Jacob said, skulking out of the room.
He didn’t look back as he heard Mason close the doors, surely smirking. If Jacob had seen such a thing in his current state, the man would be dead.
Jacob needed release.
He headed to the back stairwell, used a key to pass through a red door, then quickly descended the steps until he found himself beneath The Keep.
There were three levels under The Keep. The first was an armory where the King’s Guard were stationed. The second was a dungeon where enemies were kept. The third was the Castle’s most secret of levels. Only the King’s inner circle and select Valkoer knew of its existence. If any of the common folk in the Kingdom knew what lay beneath, they would’ve overthrown Zol long ago.
At the bottom of the stairs, Jacob reached another door.
He opened it and found himself in an antechamber with a beautiful brunette Valkoer wearing a red silk robe and nothing underneath. She had a tattoo of a rose on her right cheek. She was sitting in a chair behind a desk. A crow sat atop an ancient globe behind her, eyeballing Jacob.
“Hello, Esmerelda.”
“Jacob? You’re back?” Esmerelda smiled, then stood to greet him with a warm embrace.
The crow looked at Jacob, head tilted ever so slightly. Jacob wasn’t sure if this was the same crow from the last time he’d been here, or another of the dirty beasts she’d tamed with a psychic connection.
He closed his eyes, inhaling her intoxicatingly sweet scent.
“Did you come to spend time with me?” she asked as they parted, biting her lip at the corner. She let her robe slip a bit, revealing the swell of her right breast.
If he’d been in the mood for sex, he would’ve gladly accepted her offer. She was accommodating to most desires.
“I’ve come for something different.”
“Ah,” she said, returning to her spot behind the desk, playing wounded at his rejection. “So then, what are you looking for?”
He told her, then asked what she had in stock.
She told him what was available, and Jacob made his choice.
“Enjoy,” she said, reaching into a desk drawer and pulling out a heavy iron key cast with the number 11.
He stepped past the desk and through another doorway, finding himself in a long hallway bathed in red magickal light seeping into the stone walls. The hallway buzzed with the depravity taking place beyond the many doors. He could feel sin on his skin like soothing warm water. Though he normally rejected such vulgar displays, there was something about being in their proximity before he engaged in his own sins that excited him.
He came to a black door with a number 11.
He slipped his key through the knob, unlocked it, and entered the room.
It was slightly larger than a jail cell but offered more amenities — a comfortable bed, a lantern, running water for a primitive toilet and sink, and a small cupboard where the prisoner was allowed to stow a few personal items.
He looked at the room’s lone occupant sitting on the bed reading a book. She looked around ten, well fed, and not like the poor trash one usually found in The Forgotten Kingdom.
“And who might you be, young lady?”
“My name is Jessa,” she said, smiling.
“And where are you from?”
“Calladian Mountains. My family has a farm there.”
“Ah, Calladia, quite a beautiful place: lovely, pristine lakes,” Jacob said, reliving memories of his home before the usurpers stole it for people like this girl’s family.
He closed the door behind him, though he didn’t need to. Thanks to Esmerelda’s powerful magick, The Keep’s prisoners didn’t realize what had happened to them, and thus would never try to escape — at least not before the magick gave way to the pain.
Some of the Kingdom’s Elite came for sex. Others to torture, and then some to be tortured. But Jacob liked to think his preferences were above the uncultured waste that sucked at his father’s teat.
Jacob was here to steal the girl’s memories, to live vicariously through her experiences. Some of the others who used Esmerelda’s services would turn their victims into Valkoer before extracting what they wanted — whether it be sex or memories. It was a way to keep the prisoners alive, a way to rent the same prisoner to multiple clients.
Jacob thought it cruel, especially with children. Better to end their misery. It wasn’t as if they were worth anything after he extracted their memories. Stealing their memories wholly as he did, it usually lef
t a human in an almost catatonic state. And if he turned them into Valkoer, they’d only become sex slaves to the deviant fuckers who came down here.
His time on Earth had more or less soured him on sex. Humans were filthy. So unclean. The thought of these innocent children who offered such joy in their memories becoming nothing more than sperm receptacles for the filthy degenerates who frequented this place seemed too cruel a punishment for their gifts.
So he gave them a gift of his own: freedom in death.
He looked at the girl, an adorable blonde with big blue eyes and the happiest of smiles. Esmerelda was excellent at finding gleeful children to take.
Jacob hated draining the life from children of sorrow, like those wastrels raised in The Forgotten Kingdom. He’d had enough sadness in his life, and didn’t want to experience more.
“Do you want to play a game?” Jacob asked, smiling.
Jessa sat forward on the bed and closed her book, folding her hands on top of it. “I’d love to, mister.”
“Good. I want you to close your eyes and remember the happiest moment of your life.”
“Hmm,” she said, squeezing them tight.
A smile lit her face, visible even in the chamber’s gloom. Jacob looked down at her, so pure, so innocent, and wondered how the monsters in the other rooms could be raping such a thing.
Especially when the real prize wasn’t their body, but rather their memories. There was such pleasure to be had in their memories, a happiness Jacob hadn’t felt authentically for as long as he could remember.
“Do you have a good memory?” he asked.
His body tingled with anticipation, wondering what beautiful moment he was about to experience. Would it be a swim in a pure lake beneath a warm sun he could no longer enjoy? Time spent with a loving mother or father instead of the two wretched fucks he’d been saddled with? Perhaps it would be something he couldn’t imagine, some enjoyment or feeling of love he’d yet to experience in his own life, or vicariously through another.
The girl was ripe with possibilities. His heart raced as he stepped toward her.