29. Cycles Ago.
Cycles Ago...
E mperor Calathan VIII could not stop thinking about the woman who called herself Queen of the Demons. In his dreams, the river water that touched her body bubbled and turned to steam, but these were not nightmares. They were memories, and the young emperor woke full of desire.
His councilmen grew used to receiving a summons before Jupe even rose. They yawned as their new emperor—his father had died only two cycles ago—paced his council chamber, his satin sleep robe billowing behind him like a cape. They discussed how to capture and kill the demon queen.
They would have to incite her to attack Vaharilar again, it was decided. Not even Calathan, intoxicated by a cocktail of desire and fury, believed it wise to go into Los to try to capture her in her own lands. He could count all the facts he knew about the place on a few fingers. But after he took her, he’d know more. He’d make her tell him.
Fantasies gave birth to military strategy and armies moved. Especially heinous crimes were committed against halfling children in the northern Peaks region to draw Queen Ead's attention. It was thought that the cold up there might damper her ability to burn.
The emperor went to the Peaks himself to wait for her to show. He felt like a child on the eve of a holiday. Each morning he woke excited and yet apprehensive that something had happened in the night and he’d missed it.
“You need to relax,” his best friend Marcus advised as they played dice one night. “It’s dangerous to care too much about one woman.”
Calathan snorted. “I’ve seen you with your wife, Marcus, so don’t pretend to me. You love her more than any man should love his woman.”
“If she ever sucked your cock, you’d know why.” Marcus pointed a long, square finger at his sovereign. “And don’t even fucking think about it, Cal.”
Calathan laughed. Nobody but Marcus could speak to him that way and keep his fingers and tongue. But Calathan considered Marcus Rosa his brother, and there was no more sacred bond.
“This so-called queen is uniting the demons. They’re attacking in larger numbers and with greater frequency than we’ve seen in near on a thousand cycles. We learned from several—several, Marcus—of the demons we tortured that she even found a dragon egg and threw it into the Firecaps. She’ll be harder to kill on dragonback than she is now. It’s smart to act while we can, before the Rebirth threatens everything."
“Maybe. But don't let a prophecy scare you. Cassandra's been studying it. She says the earliest signs of the coming Rebirth haven't even happened yet. Maybe Tajawl's egg is a dud."
"Or maybe it doesn't even exist and all the demons lied. Maybe she lied to them. Or maybe the Tajawl magic reappearing after generations is a sign the egg will hatch. Too many maybes. Soon, I'll hear from her own lips and know the truth."
"It's a smart plan, Cal. Not saying it isn't. Even just to stop their raids and crush their growing boldness. But being smart isn’t why you’re doing it."
Calathan glared and Marcus raised his hands in defeat.
“I’ve said enough.”
“Yes, you have,” glowered the emperor. He went to bed and dreamt of the queen. Her horns were thick and tall, striped with black and red. Her body was muscular and tanned. Her eyes were unusual for a demon’s—they were green. She was not only a queen, but Touched. It must be how she’d found an egg when nobody else had found one in generations.
When Calathan woke, she was there. His guardsmen woke him and Marcus came charging in shortly after, already wearing full armor. The emperor urged his dressers to move faster as he received his report.
The queen had not brought an army with her to liberate the children whose horns had been cut off before they were hung on posts, alive, in the border town where Calathan waited. She’d brought only a small contingent.
“She doesn’t know I’m here,” Calathan gloated. He’d wanted to take her by surprise, but one never knew when spies might ruin one’s plans.
“She doesn’t,” Marcus confirmed.
“Then we see if she can burn in the cold.”
Calathan’s armor had been specially made for the occasion. He’d spent quite a bit of time rounding up all the dragonstone scale he could find throughout the empire and having it put together into a suit that fit just right. It was heavy, but the young emperor was strong. Only his hands and head were left unprotected. His councilors had worried over the exposure until Marcus stepped forward and stared each of them down.
“That’s what I’m for,” he said. His resonant voice commanded submission and his renowned skill with a blade was enough to silence any argument.
“Let’s go catch her,” Calathan said. He was jittery with excitement.
His men were already in position around the central square where they’d hung their bait. Some local men had been sent in to put up a show of resistance when the demons arrived. They lay dead already near the posts. The real force awaited their emperor’s command. It was with shaking fist that he gave the signal to move forward.
But unlike in battle, he did not hang back where it was safe. Calathan burst from his hiding place and charged forward, his eyes locked on the queen.
She wore armor, but it was not the ancient leather breastplate of rusted red she’d worn before. This armor bore no sigil of her house. In it, she’d appear ordinary to anyone who wasn’t really looking. But Calathan was very much looking.
The queen didn't see him yet. She faced away, looking at the soldiers who poured from their hiding places to cut down her people.
Marcus sprinted out ahead while Calathan’s bodyguards surrounded him and cut down the demons who stood against them. The numbers were wildly uneven; the emperor had made sure they were.
And sure enough, when she saw how badly she’d miscalculated, Ead, Queen of Los, did the only thing she could do. She called on the power that was her right by blood and she began to burn. The heat that radiated from Ead’s body melted the snow around her feet.
A grin split Calathan’s face. He’d thought his advisers were underestimating her. This just proved how well he understood her.
Ead carried a long-bladed scimitar with a dragonstone hilt. Marcus favored a straight blade. He reached her and they began a dance. She spun, slashing the air with her curved weapon. When Marcus blocked her, her blade slid along his like a hand down a lover’s arm and slipped free again. But he had the longer reach. With each stroke, he forced her back. He stabbed out at her and she jumped aside.
Ead’s face was a mask of concentration. Her bright green eyes were only for Marcus; the field around them had ceased to exist.
Calathan didn't like that one bit. He sprinted to catch up, but his bodyguards got in his way.
“Move, move aside!” he shouted at them. Reluctantly, they obeyed. “She’s mine!” he cried.
His voice drew her attention. Her eyes flitted to him and narrowed. Her skin grew rosier, the heat intensifying. Calathan could feel it blazing like she was a sun.
But she was a sun whose light would soon be snuffed out. Calathan's bodyguards rushed to surround her. Her own people all lay dead. This would end in one of two ways: either Ead would lose, or she’d burn her way out.
"Do not engage," Calathan ordered his men. He stepped forward beside Marcus to take her on himself.
Her fighting style changed. It grew more erratic as she sought to confuse and frighten. Her blade flew and her heated hand flailed. She ducked and dodged his attacks only to leap forward, forcing Calathan to retreat a step. A single touch of her hand on the skin of his face would ruin him for life, Calathan knew. That’s what made the prospect of defeating and humiliating her so exciting.
Marcus sliced her arm and Calathan crowed in triumph, but the wound cauterized and closed before any blood could fall.
“You’ll have to do better than that,” Ead goaded. She spoke their language, but with an accent Calathan wasn’t used to.
“We will,” Marcus promised. He launched a series of fast attacks. Calathan had to step back, for he could not anticipate where his best friend’s sword would fly next. He felt frustrated, but also relieved. He was not a particularly gifted fighter and the queen had come close to touching him several times already. Once, her fingers flew by only a fingerspan from his exposed cheek.
But she could not touch Marcus. He was too fast. He whirled around behind her and delivered a blow to the back of her head with the hilt of his sword. A thud sounded in the square. The queen’s blade slipped from her hand. Marcus cracked her head again. Her eyes rolled back, and she collapsed. She lay with her eyes closed.
Calathan and his men were still. Calathan's breaths tripped over each other. Was she dead?
Gradually, the rosy tone in her skin dissipated. Marcus held a hand near her, then bent to touch her neck.
"Safe," he said.
“Is she alive?”
“Yes, Emperor. She’s alive.”
Alive and unconscious. It was the perfect outcome. Calathan felt proud that after so much thought and planning, he’d achieved his objective. Sure, he hadn’t done most of the actual fighting, but Marcus had, and that was practically the same thing. It was Calathan's plan, after all. She was his captive.
“What do we do with her?” Marcus asked.
Emperor Calathan had commissioned a cage made from dragonstone for just this occasion. He’d brought it all the way from the capital. Now, he would bring it home again with a prisoner inside.
“We take her to her new home.”