Chapter 1

The Skies above the Royal Castle of Sacrotia

Fenir

Fenir sat upon his wyvern gazing at the dark gray skies below him. He took a sleep deep breath, focusing on his pulse, steadying for the task at hand. The wyvern squawked as flashes of light and fire began to light the clouds. “It’s ok Aegis,” Fenir said as he patted the wyvern, “You’ll be ok, I promise.” Fenir swallowed hard, as a knight of the Draeton he’d been through plenty of harrowing affairs, but this one made him especially uneasy. He had never had the displeasure of going to Sacrotia before. His kingdom, Draeton, and Sacrotia had always had a tense understanding at best. An understanding that was constantly being tested by the queen of Sacrotia.

The cloak covering him wavered in the winds as he looked down. Slowly Aegis began to descend, taking care to not move too fast and draw attention. As he broke lower through the clouds Fenir saw his destination. Below him lay the massive stone Castle of Sacrotia. He’d heard tales of the castle, but words did not come close to doing it justice. It stood on the edge of a steep cliff, barracks scaling down the side built into the wall. From the base, a sprawling city came forth. The highest spires of the castle seemed to rip angrily at the sky above, piercing and grasping for light. Standing out at the very center of the castle was a dome, ridged with a lighter stone bearing a single crimson stripe across the middle. Fenir thought it looked oddly similar to the throne room of Draeton, but he had little time to ponder this.

Fenir slowed Aegis, staying just within the shadow of the clouds as he watched the battle unfolding just below. Men on dragons darted quickly across the sky as fire lit between them. Below the rumble of cannons echoed as the castle defenses fought back. Fenir saw the men he had come with, dressed similarly flying back and forth, though with no particular direction except to distract. Sacrotian soldiers donned in the slate gray and bloody crimson gave chase. Fenir looked to his wrist, seeing his gauntlet beneath begin to hum with a magical blue glow. He pressed his body tight to Aegis, hugging in and biting the leather with his feet. “Time to go girl,” he said as he pulled the reins tight.

At once Aegis pulled in her wings and they began a sharp dive straight down to the cliff’s edge. Fire rippled around them as Aegis began to weave from side to side to avoid them. They sliced through the air past the fighting soldiers narrowly avoiding the Sacrotian soldier’s gaze. An explosion boomed in front of Aegis and she pulled up. Fenir felt the heat singe against his skin. The armor under his cloak began to get uncomfortably hot. Unfortunately, this was enough to gain the attention of several Sacrotian soldiers. They rushed towards Fenir and Aegis with their lances aimed. As the first broke towards Aegis Fenir pulled back hard on the reins and Aegis lopped above, letting loose a blast of blue flame on the soldier and dragon now below them. With a scream, the soldier and his mount dropped from the sky. Fenir knew agility and speed were his greatest allies. The Sacrotian soldiers were riding wyrms, the workhorses of the dragon breeds, strong, but not exactly agile or intelligent. Aegis on the other hand was a wyvern, a rare and beautiful dragon breed with blue and teal scales noted for their flexibility, speed, and pride.

Fenir patted Aegis as the remaining three mounted soldiers approached. Fenir pulled a piece of steel from his cloak and with a blue flicker of magic a shimmering silver lance formed. “Time for a corkscrew,” Fenir said. He anchored the lance on his body and charged directly at the Sacrotians. As they drew closer Aegis pulled in her wings and began to spiral. The lance glimmered with blue magic and like an arrow Fenir and Aegis shot past the soldiers, knocking one of them off to his doom. The other two gripped hard, trying to maintain their balance as Fenir and Aegis surged by. In the twist, Fenir’s cloak ripped off and fell to the ground below.

As the Sacrotian soldiers turned one began to speak, “That’s no raider, something’s wrong here.” As he finished a fireball exploded on him and his mount went cascading to the ground. Clearly, the cannons below were close to hitting Fenir, but for now, he thanked his good fortune that their aim was terrible at best in an aerial encounter. Taking the explosion for a distraction Fenir and Aegis began their descent again, this time slipping below the cannon fire and reaching his first goal, the main hangar of the barracks. With another shimmer of magic, the lance retracted back into the small handle in Fenir’s grip. As he pulled in Aegis took in a deep breath before letting out a massive swath of fire, scattering the remaining wyrms in the hangar.

Fenir leaped off his mount, gripping the handle tightly, as he did the blue shimmer began and the silver shaped itself into a mace. The remaining two soldiers ran at Fenir with swords ready. Fenir launched gracefully into the air as a slashing sword came down towards him. As he landed he spun and cracked his mace into the helm of the soldier who dropped like a puppet with cut strings. The other soldier slashed across at Fenir. He held his mace firmly to absorb the impact but was still sent flying to the side. As he skittered Fenir sized up the soldier. He was far bigger than the first and as best as he could tell by the markings on his gray armor he must have been at least a captain. Though Fenir himself was a high-ranking knight he was slight of build and was dwarfed by the soldier. Fenir backed slowly until he was nearly up against a stable. The soldier slashed again, his sword slicing through the stable door. Fenir rolled to the side, trying to gauge his options as the soldier collected himself and slashed again. Despite his size, the soldier was rather quick with his blade. Fenir sighed, “Can’t be avoided,” he said. His handle shimmered again and the silver reshaped into the form of an axe. Fenir pulled another handle from the side of his armor and another axe formed. “You know I was really trying to avoid having to kill you,” he said heavily.

As the soldier slashed across horizontally Fenir ducked and with two quick slices dropped the soldier to his knees. With a shriek of pain, his sword flung against the wall. “If you’ll yield I will let you live,” Fenir said.

The soldier, barely pushing himself off the ground spat back at Fenir, “I would rather die than yield to a dog like you. When Emeria finds out a knight of Draeton caused this she will crush your whole kingdom. You will all…” with a flick of his blade the soldier dropped lifelessly to the ground.

“May your gods have mercy on you,” Fenir said solemnly, “and in another life may we avoid this bloodshed.” Fenir looked down at his armor and thought for a moment. He took the edge of his axe and scraped the Draeton emblem off his armor. At least this way if he failed it wouldn’t be apparent which kingdom had attacked Sacrotia. With a sigh, Fenir headed over to Aegis. He grabbed small bundles from his saddlebag and placed one at each edge of the massive archway that formed the outside of the hangar.

“Time for you to go girl,” he said looking at Aegis. The wyvern twitched its head sideways, a motion that Fenir took to mean concern and confusion. “I can’t have you here. If I complete this mission I’ll have to get back another way. There’s no way I’d make it out on you,” he replied to Aegis. Aegis arched forward, placing her head right in front of Fenir’s. He placed a hand on the wyvern’s head, “may we see each other again and soar through the skies happy and free.” He gave Aegis a pat and pointed to the sky, “Stay low and you’ll be safe.” With a turn and a mighty flap of her wings Aegis was out the archway, flying low and fast, her lithe body barely noticeable against the earth below. Fenir walked to the edge of the hangar and positioned himself behind a stable door. He held his gauntlet up and with a clench of his fist, the bundles at the edge of the archway rippled and exploded, crashing the archway down and blocking the hangar.

Dust kicked into the air and rubble launched forwards. “Has to seem like I didn’t want to be in here,” Fenir muttered to himself. He gripped the axes tightly in his hands as he approached the door to the hallway. As gently as he could he opened the door, waiting for a sound in response. He slowly peered around the doorway, checking both sides of the hallway before stepping out. Fenir pressed up against the wall, minimizing himself as much as possible to avoid sight.

The hallways themselves were dark and dreary, a dark gray carved stone dimly lit by intermittent torches. The only thing that looked like it had been given any care was a banner of the Sacrotian Royal insignia. The dark gray border and crimson color lit brightly against the wall. Fenir assumed this must have been kept clean by some magic charm because it didn’t look like anything else had seen a broom in a lifetime. He looked at the insignia as he passed, thinking of his goal. The dark gray form of an arm stood in the middle of the banner creating a strong proud image. At the center of the wrist in a red that seemed deeper than the rest was the shape of a large precious stone. “The Bloodstone,” Fenir murmured. The whole reason he was here, the whole reason the men above him were fighting and dying was the Bloodstone. After years of tense peace Dracyr, the queen of Draeton had ordered some of her best knights to attempt to retrieve it under the disguise of raiders. The Bloodstone was a Sacrotian royal heirloom, it was a large diamond-like stone that was always laid in the wrist of the Sacrotian ruler. Supposedly it had some magical powers, but Fenir wasn’t sure what to believe.

At this point in time, the Bloodstone was in the possession of Emeria, the Sanguine Queen. She was the sort of horrid monster used to scare children in stories. She came from a long line of Sacrotian rulers. Rumors were she killed her parents and took the throne by force. Regardless, the Sacrotian people followed her almost blindly. They worshiped whoever had the Bloodstone because they believed it and the bearer to be the divine will of their blood gods in this realm. Emeria had used this belief to slaughter and rule Sacrotia with an iron fist. Cruelty and torture surrounded her and death followed where she went. Fenir had heard the rumors and had been told more than enough of her terrible deeds before embarking on this mission, but he had a hard time believing that one person could commit so many atrocities. Oddly though the only clear information about her was that she appeared to be only a child of roughly twelve years. The problem was that she had been in control of Sacrotia for far longer than that.

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Fenir slowly and deliberately went from hallway to hallway, following the directions he had been given. They seemed accurate so he had little reason to question, but he did worry regardless. He knew the directions and the mission itself came from someone within Emeria’s inner circle, but he did not know why Queen Dracyr trusted this person’s information. After all, if they were part of Emeria’s inner circle didn’t that mean they benefited from the awful reign in Sacrotia?

As Fenir passed to one corner he checked the piece of parchment with his directions scrawled out. He heard a muttering from down a nearby hall and froze up against the wall, readying his axe. He listened as two sets of footsteps grew closer. “Seems like they are all gone,” one of the soldiers said.

“Yeah, the last few just ran, cowards,” the other soldier replied. “Why’d they bother coming here anyways?”

“Don’t know,” the first soldier responded, “Seems like a pretty dumb idea to me.”

“Well they caused a mess for somebody at least,” the second one said with a chuckle. “Maybe I’ll go up in rank if my captain fell off his wyrm, that’d be nice.” The two soldiers chuckled, not even looking down the hall as they passed Fenir.

Breathing a sigh of relief Fenir continued to follow his directions. Based on how the soldiers were talking either no one had discovered the hangar or no one was suspicious, either way, it meant Fenir was safe for now. Fenir read the last direction on his list and felt sure he’d followed correctly when he saw the massive double doors in front of him. Again he took pause, noting how similar the doors even looked to the outer doors of the throne room of Draeton. “Must have had the same architect or something,” he chuckled, trying to ease his nerves. As quietly as someone clad in full armor could, Fenir opened the door quickly and closed it behind him as he stepped cautiously into the throne room. As he looked around Fenir’s suspicions only grew. This throne room was exactly the same in shape and build as the one in Draeton. The only difference was the adornments and the throne in the back middle of the room. For a brief moment, Fenir felt like he might just make it out alive, after all, if he could find the queen alone he would be able to take the stone and escape easily. There was no way that someone as slight as Emeria would be able to stop him. Even if she knew magic, Fenir was a trained knight, he had fought many battles against strong magic users and he was still standing.

Fenir’s eyes locked onto the throne. His stomach grew uneasy as he looked upon it. It was a deep red that glistened from every angle. “Fitting for the sanguine queen,” he mumbled. He slowly approached the throne, looking at the corners and entrances around him, staying vigilant. He reached the throne and looked intently at the etchings along it. A sickeningly sweet smell came from it, though he couldn’t quite place it. Depictions of great bloodshed covered the red throne, gory and unnerving. Slowly he stretched out his gauntlet and touched the side. “It feels warm,” he murmured in confusion. Indeed the throne felt warm and malleable to the touch. Fenir felt his skin crawl and his stomach turn. He looked at his gauntlet as he pulled it back and his pulse began to race as he saw the sticky red substance on the steel. “What in the world is this?” he asked aloud.

“It’s blood silly, shouldn’t that be obvious?” a voice said in reply. Fenir spun around with his axes at the ready. As Fenir turned he saw his goal in front of him. Emeria, the Sanguine Queen stood before him, alone, in the middle of the throne room. “So, are you just going to stand there or what? I doubt you came all this way and made all this fuss for nothing,” Emeria said with a smile. Fenir said nothing in reply. “Really, going with the strong silent type then? Boring, I was hoping to have a little fun at least, it's better if you talk back, at least than you can give me your stupid hero’s speech and all that.”

Fenir sized up Emeria, much as the rumors said she appeared to be about twelve. She was incredibly slight and appeared to be of little threat. Unlike all the dark and dreary attire of the castle, Emeria stood clean and pristine. Her deep red hair was long and in a large braid going down her back. Her armor and cape were perfectly tailored. A gold line ran across the edging of both with an unsullied white making up the body. Her blood-red eyes gazing at Fenir left him uncomfortable as though he was a sheep being stalked by a dragon. The hair on the back of his neck crawled and he couldn’t shake a feeling of urgency inside him. He saw the glow of the Bloodstone on her right wrist. She wore armor over body aside from her head, and yet the Bloodstone was exposed. It rested on her wrist, Fenir thought he saw it pulsing as she approached him.

She walked closer to him and Fenir saw something that made his blood run cold. Marring the pristine image of the rest of Emeria was a deep red scar running across her neck. In all the stories Fenir had heard that was the one consistent detail, the scar on her throat. Every rumor, every story, and every bit of speculation about her parent’s death involved her getting her throat slashed. “No one could have survived that,” Fenir thought to himself.

‘It’s not like I’m not accustomed to people staring at my scar, but do you really think that’s wise when you’ve just invaded my castle?” Emeria said with a sly grin. She ran two fingers across the scar and a faint glimmer of red followed. “This is what you were staring at wasn’t it? Or were you just captivated by how magnificent I am?’ Emeria laughed madly, stepping closer and closer to Fenir.

Finally, Fenir spoke, “Was just waiting for you to get into my range actually.” With that Fenir unleashed a flurry of slashes towards Emeria. With ghostly ease, she slid back perfectly from every strike as though she knew Fenir’s actions before he did.

With a quick slip, Emeria got behind Fenir and placed a hand on his shoulder. “That won’t do you any good even if you could hit me,” she taunted. Fenir let loose another wild slash, catching nothing but air. If it will make you feel better I’ll let you have a free swing,” Emeria said, stopping in her tracks. Fenir continued to swing and finally landed. A downward slash lodged itself into Emeria’s shoulder, cracking into the armor at a weak joint. Fenir paused expecting Emeria to drop. Instead, she stood, unfazed with a shark’s grin crossing her lips. “The least you could do is thank me for letting you have that swing,” she said.

“How,” Fenir began to mutter as he tried to pull back his axe. He pulled but the axe wouldn’t loosen. Instead, blood began to pour from Emeria’s shoulder, coating the axe and slowly flowing toward Fenir. As the blood began to flow Fenir could see Emeria’s hair turning a ghostly white. Emeria began to laugh madly. Before Fenir could loosen his grip the blood coated his hand. His hand went numb for a moment and then a searing pain ran through his body. Dropping to his knees Fenir began to scream, but his scream ended shortly. His voice left him, his body crumpled out of his control to the ground. At once the blood retracted, quickly flowing back to Emeria and into her shoulder. The color returned to Emeria’s hair as the blood entered her body.

Emeria placed her hand on the handle of the axe and pulled it from her shoulder, gazing at it. “This is quite some craftsmanship,” she said. She looked at the now broken shoulder plate of her armor. “Managed to cleave through my armor quite easily and I have to say, you used it quite well. A normal person would have been bested by you.” She swung the axe in the air playfully, “Well balanced, light,” with a tap of her finger the axe changed form to a mace, “Oh my, a shifting weapon too, I do think I’ll keep this.” She squatted down looking right into Fenir’s eyes as he lay motionless. “Let’s call this a memento of the first person to breach my castle. After all, you won’t exactly be around to tell your tale,” she said as the wicked grin returned to her lips. Fenir struggled to move, his face flinching with exertion. “Come on now, don’t bother with that, won’t matter how hard you try. Your blood is a part of me now, you don’t even own your body anymore. You’d be wiser to at least relax and listen in your last moments.”

Emeria walked back and sat on the throne as Fenir gazed up helplessly at her. “Since you made it this far I guess I can at least share a little with you. I’m sure you’ve heard all the stories of me, who hasn’t?” She paused as if looking for a reply. “I suppose I shouldn’t bother asking questions, but then again it is boring to have such a captive audience,” she chuckled. “Though I’m not sure where you’re from I have to assume you were after the Bloodstone. Well, let me tell you a little about it. It’ll be our secret. The Bloodstone is just that, its blood. It is the blood of my family, a stone filled with magical power powered by blood. Even if you could have taken it, it wouldn’t have done you any good. Only someone of Sacrotian blood can bear the stone. It would have devoured you if you’d tried to use it. Me on the other hand, I can use it all I want, it lets me do some marvelous things.” Emeria held up her left wrist and unclasped the armor on it. She took the axe and ran the edge along her wrist. As she did a small amount of blood began to pour out and it formed a tendril. The tendril moved and writhed with life as Fenir watched. “You saw me and assumed I was weak right? Thought I was a fragile little girl? Well that is your arrogance causing your downfall. My body, my blood is my weapon. Any blood is my weapon for that matter.”

Emeria clenched her fist and the bloody tendril went back inside, the wound sealing. She pointed her hand at Fenir and his body shot with pain and stood up, completely out of his control. Fenir’s body began to shamble forward as pain ripped up and down his spine, flowing through every piece of him. “Sadly though there is at least one limitation,” Emeria said with a sigh. “Though I can control your body I can’t control your mind. I don’t suppose you’d be nice enough to say who sent you, would you?”

Feeling Emeria’s control loosen slightly Fenir replied by spitting at her feet. “Yeah, that’s exactly how I assumed you would reply,” she said. She snapped her fingers and Fenir felt the control tighten again as his pain worsened. Each step brought Fenir agony as he approached the bloody throne. “Since you did ask how the throne was made of blood, well I guess I can show you, wouldn’t that be fun?” Emeria said with sadistic glee. She took the axe and ran it across Fenir’s cheek. Her hand began to glow and hum with a deep red magic and a large tendril of blood shot from the throne and latched to the fresh wound on Fenir’s face. “That’s how,” Emeria said as Fenir fell to his knees, the tendril slowly swallowing him. “My throne is alive and my, it can get quite hungry from time to time. I’ve been so hospitable to you, I think the least you can do is feed us.” Emeria held out her hand and a tendril shot forth attaching to Fenir as well. Emeria took a deep satisfying breath, feeling Fenir’s lifeblood adding to her own, feeding the dark hunger within her.

As Fenir’s drained body fell to the floor Emeria sat down, kicking it out of the way. She laughed loudly for a moment and then looked at his armor. “No insignia, smart I suppose,” she mused. “I doubt he could have gotten this far on his own though. No one outside of Sacrotia knows this castle that well, he must have had aid from within. I guess I’ll just have to find the rat and show them why I am not to be trifled with,” she said with a hungry smile.