Veiled Empire (43 page)

Everything tying me to this land has been severed. There is no longer any reason for me to stay.

Vashodia had extended the invitation. Jasside decided, then, to accept. For despite all her power and knowledge, the mierothi still needed someone at her side to be both conscience and temperance. Someone to, when necessary, plant her feet back on the soil.

And besides her ancient eyes, Vashodia still reminded Jasside of a certain little girl who, at too young an age, had lost her mother and her childhood in one grisly act. For that, Jasside would stay at her side, and in every way she knew how, show her love.

So, she would learn all she could, and attempt to kindle her understanding of Vashodia. In time, it would be enough to do what was needed—for the light in her own soul to balance out the darkness that held her mistress in its grip.

And together, she knew, they would accomplish wonders.

I
N
THE
ROOM
that had seen the death of the previous emperor, Yandumar stood before the crowd, still not quite believing what idiots they all were.

Everyone was present it seemed. At least, everyone who mattered. All the Ragremon elders in one group, the guild and enterprise representatives another. Sarian Thress sat, already scratching his quill across the parchment of an open tome. The commanders of the revolution and the rebellion and the surviving ranked soldiers of the Imperial army mingled together, none too happy about standing shoulder to shoulder with those who, just a week ago, were trying to kill them. Yandumar paid no attention to their grumblings. They would get over it. He would make them.

Mending bridges . . . easier said than done.

A squeeze on his hand brought his attention to the figure at his side. Slick Ren. His wife.

The elders threw a fit when he announced his intentions towards her. “
She is not of our blood,
” they had said. He remembered well the speech he’d given to shut them up.

“
The vows of our people are complete. There’s no need to stick to traditions designed to keep us separate from the rest of the world. And every need to show this empire that I don’t intend to play favorites.
”

Of course, that had also been the moment when he had inadvertently agreed to this asinine course of action. Yandumar sighed, looking into Slick Ren’s eyes. For her, the price was worth it.

At least, it had better be.

Abendrol Torn cleared his throat, raising an eyebrow expectantly at him.

Yandumar sighed. “Let’s get this over with.”

Torn took out a scroll and ran his eyes over the contents. He inhaled deeply, then began his oration. “On this day, the thirty-fifth of Quarsis in the year 11,712 A.S., we, the victors over tyranny, do crown as emperor Yandumar Daere, and as empress his wife Elrenia Daere.”

That was it. Simple, pointed, sturdy. Just like the clothes they wore, the thrones they would sit on, the crowns now being placed upon their heads. Many had insisted that the ruler of an empire as great as this should display the power and wealth of his station at all times. They’d written up toll-long speeches, designed garments and thrones and crowns that were more gold and jewel than anything else, and generally intended for his life to be filled with all the things he hated.

A single word had come to mind at their suggestions: Ostentatious.
And yes, Gilshamed, I
do
know what it means . . . now, anyway.
He’d told all the sycophants to bite him.

In
exactly
those words.

With the crowning complete, his title became official. He began his appointments without another shred of ceremony. Derthon became the crown’s protector. Idrus, the supreme general of their army. Orbrahn, the minister of sorcery. Numerous people among both Ragremon elders and others to fill in governing positions left vacant by the departing mierothi.

Yandumar paused, looking over at a small figure hovering near the wall. She was his last appointment. “Ilyem Bahkere, will you accept the position of void master?”

She stepped forward. “I will.”

Yandumar nodded, turning his gaze over the crowd. Unlike the others, this one deserved an explanation. “The old system of Hardohl is abolished. As void master, she will have three tasks before her. First, to re-form the voids now serving into a new combat unit, one that is capable of responding to any kind of crisis.”

Heads nodded around the room. This was expected.

“Second, she is to gather whatever force she needs and escort the mierothi and daeloth out of this empire, ensuring they never return.”

More nods.

“Third,” Yandumar paused, “she will eradicate the Hardohl academy, and return all students to what family of theirs can be found.”

At this, eyebrows shot up around the chamber, and a flurry of whispered conversations sprang to life. This, he had not discussed with anyone but Slick Ren, Derthon, and Ilyem herself.

For you, my son. The best that I can do. The best I know how.

Yandumar thought he’d shed all the tears he would, but he was wrong. His chest tightened as they carved their way down his cheeks and dripped silently to the floor. Everything he’d done had been for Mevon. To have come so far, and lost him anyway, seemed the cruelest sort of punishment he could think of.

So, right there in the audience chamber in the ruins of the palace, he made a new vow—one that only he and God would ever know—to honor his son’s memory, and his sacrifice, above all else.

He led Slick Ren back, and together they sat on their new thrones, beginning a reign that would, he hoped, remove the oppression and persecution and sorrow and blood from the land and replace it with freedom and acceptance and joy and life.

Our veil has been lifted. Now, it’s time to see who we truly are.

Epilogue

D
RAEVENUS
STROLLED
,
ENJO
YING
the last of the day’s sunshine as it streamed through evergreen boughs. He breathed in the unmolested scent of a spring breeze. Leather straps squeezed on his shoulders, his pack shifted in rhythm with each step upon the verdant forest floor.

He carried with him everything he would need. Food and water, spare clothes, coin, tools for a life on the trail. Besides a hatchet and a skinning knife, he possessed no other weapons. He’d rolled up his blades inside his chain mail and left them behind. Where he was going, he would not need them.

He’d said his good-byes to his sister and mother. Vashodia knew, of course, what he was getting up to, calling him a fool. There had been no embrace to mark their separation nor words of encouragement, but he could tell from the sparkle in her eyes that she wished him well. Angla, though, had practically squeezed the life out of him. She warned him to be careful. Staying within the empire’s borders after all their kind had been ordered to leave presented hazards, both to himself and the tenuous peace that kept the populace from their throats. He’d told her not to worry. He was, after all, very good at hiding.

My disguise could probably use some work, though.
More than ever before, he would need to interact with people, hear their stories and tales and legends. A hood to hide his face would not be enough. He needed a wig, paste to color his skin, gloves that more thoroughly concealed his claws, and a convincing story about his identity.

These thoughts and others swirled gently around his head. There was no urgency, no strict timeline, no lives or souls at stake. The quest before him would likely take years, if not decades, yet Draevenus had never felt more content with his life. Never felt more at peace.

Night soon fell. Draevenus knew the forest well, and trudged towards a place nearby where shelter could be found. A hill loomed before him. On the other side was an alcove protected on three sides by stone and trees. Treading through the game trail, Draevenus circled around to the entrance.

An orange glow illuminated the place.

Instinctively, he halted and began turning away. But he stopped himself.
I’ve got to start thinking differently sometime. Might as well begin now.
He began humming and shuffling his feet, making noise to warn the alcove’s occupant of his approach.

He stepped into the firelight and paused. A big man sat on a log, his face turned slightly away from the flames and concealed by a raised hood. Draevenus smiled. “Greetings, traveler. I see you have found the best shelter within a league of here. As night has already fallen, would you mind if I shared your fire?”

The man gestured at his makeshift bench of wood. “Be my guest.”

“Thank you.” Draevenus sat down at the opposite end of the log. He shrugged out of his pack and laid it before him, digging through to find his cooking pan. He put it on the fire, then unwrapped a slab of salted venison. After a moment, he took out a second. “I have plenty, friend. For the gift of your fire, I would gladly share.”

The man dipped his head. “That would be most welcome.”

Once the steaks were sizzling and their savory aroma filled the alcove, Draevenus turned to the man. “So, where are you headed?”

The man shrugged. “West, I think.”

“Any particular destination?”

“For now? No. Not really. What about you?”

“I am heading west as well, towards the Andean Mountains.”

“Ah. I hear they are quite beautiful this time of year.”

“Quite. I hope to get there by summer, when the snows are least, and make my way through one of the passes.”

“You seek the far side?”

Draevenus nodded as he flipped over the meat.

“It’s a dangerous trek,” continued the man. “What lies beyond the mountains that is worth such a risk?”

“Perhaps nothing. But I seek stories, and the people settled there may have some that no one else has heard.”

“Stories? About what?”

Draevenus sighed. “About the fall of a god.”

The man grunted. “You seek Ruul.” It was not a question.

Draevenus nodded. “He and I have some unfinished business. And it is long past time that we met.”

The steaks finished cooking, and Draevenus retrieved them from the pan. The man skewered one on a long dagger and began taking bites straight off the blade. Draevenus, rather than retrieve a plate and fork, laughed to himself and did the same. The man produced a skin of wine, took a drink, then passed it to Draevenus. They ate their meal in silence, washing down each bite with a swig of wine and wiping the grease from their mouths with the backs of their gloves.

When finished, the man slumped to the ground with his feet towards the fire and leaned his back against the log. “It occurs to me,” he said, “that your journey will be a lonely one.”

“I suppose it will be,” Draevenus said. “But that is something I’ve grown used to.”

“Used to, perhaps. But not fond of.”

Draevenus shook his head.

The man leaned forward. “Your quest seems a noble one, friend. It has . . . purpose. Something I find that I am lacking at the moment. Perhaps we can help each other out?”

“You mean, solve the problem of my loneliness and your aimlessness at the same time?”

“Precisely.”

“Then, my friend, I cordially invite you to accompany me on my journey. What say you?”

The man stayed silent for several beats, drumming his fingers in the dirt. “Before I say yes, I have just one question.”

Draevenus waved his open palm towards him.

“Will there be blood?”

Draevenus did not need to think long. He slipped to the ground and hugged his knees to his chest. “Not if I can help it.”

The man flipped down his hood. In the flickering firelight, Draevenus watched as Mevon Daere curled his lips up into a smile.

Glossary

Locations and Terms

Abyss—slang term for death

Adjudicators—mierothi and daeloth sorcerer-assassins, led by Marshal Adjudicator Jezrid

Agoritha Plains—the breadbasket of the central territory

Andean—long chain of mountains on the extreme west end of continent

Andun
—weapon used exclusively by Hardohl, a metal rod with long blades at each end which are bent into the shape of open diamonds

Beat—unit of time equaling approximately one heartbeat (.86 seconds). A hundred beats in each Mark.

Blade Cabal—group of ten Hardohl who serve as the personal protectors of the emperor and his palace in Mecrithos

Brightwisp—hovering swarm of particles held together by pure light energy, released from the body of a caster (valynkar-blooded) upon death

Caster—generic term for a wielder of magic/sorcery. Male: sorcerer—Female: sorceress

Cataclysm, the—event marking the end of the War of Rising Night, in which the continent was broken, raising the elevation by almost a kilometer in most places, and erecting the Shroud

Chasm, the—a deep canyon formed on ground zero of the Cataclysm, forms three-way border between the central, northern, and eastern territories

Daeloth—half-human half-mierothi, bred by nefarious means to act as commanders in the Imperial army

Darkwatch—zealous and skilled group of humans and daeloth, assigned as personal bodyguards to each mierothi in the empire

Darkwisp—hovering swarm of particles held together by pure dark energy, released from the body of a caster (mierothi-blooded) upon death

District—one of five regions divided from each prefecture

Elite—best of the best, assigned to a Fist under a Hardohl, wear heavy armor that is enchanted to minimize the effects of direct sorcery

Energize—to gather energy before casting a spell, also called charging, pooling, gathering, etc.

Evervine—bioluminescent vine that was cultivated in old valynkar dwellings

Fist—small unit led by a Hardohl and his/her selected captains, consisting mostly of Elite with a smaller number of Rangers, specializes in hunting down rogue casters

Frozen Fangs—a chain of long, sharp peninsulas jutting out into the icy southern sea

Fyrdra—the westernmost prefecture of the southern territory

Godsreach—chain of mountains in the eastern territory

Hardohl—humans who are completely immune to direct applications of sorcery, they wield an
Andun
and lead a Fist into battle against rogue casters

Lightfall Square—the ceremony grounds outside the palace in Mecrithos

Mark—unit of time equaling approximately a minute and a half. Fifty marks in each toll.

Mecrithos—capital of the empire, located in the central territory

Mierothi—humanoids covered in dark scales, with pale faces and claws, masters of dark magic, rulers of the veiled empire

Namerrun—prefecture in the northern territory

Panisahldron—nation outside of the empire

Prefecture—one of five regions divided from each territory, ruled by a mierothi prefect

Ragremos—nation that existed before the mierothi conquest

Rashunem Hills—foothills in the easternmost section of the Godsreach Mountains

Sceptre—nation outside of the Veiled Empire

Shelf, the—the massive cliff that marks the entire border of the continent

Shenog Ravine—southern offshoot of the Chasm

Shroud, the—a magic barrier around the entire continent, erected as a result of the Cataclysm

Silverstone—shiny stone that the valynkar used to build their floating cities

Taditali vineyards –landmass covering nearly all of the Namerrun prefecture of the northern territory, owned and operated by the Taditali family of wine merchants

Territories—names of the five geographical and political segments of the empire (north, south, east, west, and central)

Thorull—capital city of the self-named prefecture in the eastern territory

Toll—unit of time equaling approximately seventy-two minutes. Twenty tolls in a day.

Valynkar—humanoids defined by typically tall height, hair all colors of the rainbow, ethereal wings that can be summoned at will, masters of light magic

Veiled Empire—unofficial title of the continent ruled by the mierothi

Verge—prison/medical facility on the southern tip of the Andean mountain range

War of Rising Night—the conflict between the mierothi and their subjugated allies (notably the nation of Ragremos) against the valynkar and the nations of men nineteen hundred years ago

Dramatis Personae

The Fist

Arozir—Elite captain

Idrus—Ranger captain

Ivengar—Ranger lieutenant

Mevon Daere—Hardohl (magic void), leader

Ropes—Elite lieutenant

Tolvar—Elite captain

The Revolution

Bellanis—former Imperial sergeant, commander

Calla—sorceress

Derthon—bandit king, former Hardohl

Gilshamed—valynkar, leader of the revolution, “Golden Man”

Jasside Anglasco—sorceress, knows the secret weakness of Hardohl

Orbrahn—cocky young sorcerer

Slick Ren—bandit queen, sister to Derthon

Yandumar—Second to Gilshamed, former Elite captain

The Mierothi Council

Grezkul—supreme arcanod

Jezrid—marshal adjudicator

Kael—elderly Hardohl, Voren’s warden

Kitavijj—mother phyzari

Lekrigar—high regnosist

Rekaj—emperor

Truln—chronicler

Voren—valynkar prisoner

The Outcasts

Angla—captured mierothi, mother to Draevenus and Vashodia

Draevenus—mierothi assassin, brother of Vashodia

Harridan Chant—former Elite captain, uncle to Idrus

Paen Taditali—son of wine baron, Vashodia’s lover

Shadow—former Ranger captain

Vashodia—puller of strings, keeper of secrets

Others

Abendrol Torn—mayor of Ragremon town, uncle to Tolvar and Arozir

Brefand—Jasside’s half brother

Hezraas—mierothi, prefect of Thorull

Ilyem Bakhere—Hardohl

Kaiera—Yandumar’s wife (deceased)

Lashriel—captured valynkar woman, life-mate to Gilshamed

Masri Gensrasco—daeloth, general of the Thorull Host

Naeveth and Mosnar—Hardohl

Samaranth—mierothi, phyzari in charge of Verge

Sarian Thress—Ragremon historian

Tursek—daeloth, in charge of Verge tribute caravan

Historical Figures

Analethis—valynkar champion

Elos –god of light and the valynkar

Heshrigan—valynkar arbiter

Murathrius—valynkar mediator

Ruul—god of darkness and the mierothi