Chapter 15

The throne room of Sacrotia

Emeria

Emeria sat impatiently upon her throne. She wasn’t exactly accustomed to waiting. When she wanted something, she got it, in Sacrotia it was as simple as that. Her every need was catered to at a moment’s notice for fear of death to whoever didn’t satisfy her whims. Emeria after all, had always seen herself as a prompt and punctual person. When she wanted something done, she made sure it was done in a very timely manner. For this one time though, she had nothing to do but wait and it annoyed her greatly. Every second lasted for what seemed like ages to her. “They couldn’t have seen through it,” she thought to herself. “The old man is far too greedy to actually look past a gift like that.” Without any Sacrotian markings, there was no reason for Graclose to assume bad intent with the gift. Many traders and kingdoms tried to sway the favor of the mountain forge, it was commonplace to leave gifts like this. So, despite every fiber of her being unhappy to do so, Emeria continued to wait. Not another soul dared enter the throne room for fear of being the end of Emeria’s boredom.

The silence was the part that was the most maddening to Emeria. It was like every soft sound became amplified. She could her own heartbeat ringing in her eyes, growing to a deafening decibel. The longer the silence continued the further out her attunement went. She began to hear the heartbeats of the guards outside the door, of the royals passing through the wall, and eventually even the dull dimming heartbeats of those in the dungeon. Finally and all at once the silence broke. Emeria felt her heart skip a single beat and then jump to a maddening pace. The room became filled with the deep pounding sound of her heart as it thundered at a breakneck tempo. Emeria grinned madly as her blood frenzied within her. She could feel something far away from her, a pule growing with each passing second. First one heartbeat, then another, and another. Her skin began to crawl and the room felt like it was spinning around her. She closed her eyes and her body shuddered with sadistic glee as the energy washed over her body.

As her eyes closed she began to see a place she’d never been. There were towering walls surrounding her. There were men and women moving about quickly in a panic. She saw them speak, but could not understand a word they said. The eyes through which she peered struggled to retain their focus, rebelling against Emeria’s will. The view darted around frantically and Emeria caught a glimpse of a large cart sitting in a corner, still quite full of treasure. At this Emeria knew where she was, she was inside the largest keep of Chirock, the heart of the mountain city. Her vision flickered at her command, flashing through the gaze of other infected people, only a few aware of the blight that had just been put upon them. Soon the symptoms would reveal themselves and not too long after they would be dead. Her vision flickered again and she stood in the alabaster throne room of Chirock. Finally, she had found the view she wanted. Towering in front of her was Graclose. Next to her sat the very chest her gift had been in, open and empty with the plague already released. Graclose looked at Emeria’s host and said something she again couldn’t understand. Graclose hands shot out, grabbing the host by the throat and everything went black.

Emeria snapped awake with a jolt, her body still shivering with the pulse of the blood plague. She licked her lips and grinned from ear to ear. The plan had gone quite smoothly she surmised. The time for subterfuge was over, Graclose knew Emeria was behind all of this and it was finally time to act. Once the plague was released Emeria had control over it. As long as there was a single infected person inside the mountain she had her leverage. She could feel every heartbeat under her control and the number grew by the minute. Her pulse quickened every time another person fell under her sway. The stone on her forearm pulsed with energy, and the muscles around it tensed as the stone surged with power. Emeria waved a hand in front of her and a screen blinked open. With a wicked grin on her face, she began to speak. “Signal to all of the forces! We are ready to head out! Make sure they are all ready, we should be there within a four-hour flight. The gift has been received.”

Emeria looked into the screen and saw her general, Moren frowning back at her. A dull red glow flashed and a twinge of pain crossed Moren’s face. “Yes, my queen.”

Emeria grinned even wider and locked eyes with Moren, “Don’t forget the special preparation I told you about. It’s been so long since I’ve gotten to stretch my legs, that I am planning to have quite a lot of fun. I will be making quite the entrance.” Moren nodded and the window blinked shut. Emeria giggled and kicked her feet in joy, despite her actual age she still acted like a child from time to time. A dull knock on the throne room door took her attention away. She waved and the doors opened with Rosher standing timidly outside them. He walked into the room hesitantly, bowing his head to avoid Emeria’s gaze.

“Not meaning to eavesdrop my queen, but I heard you talking to someone. Have plans moved forward as you hoped?” It wasn’t particularly surprising to Emeria that Rosher had been waiting outside. He thought himself quite clever and tried anything to give himself an advantage, even if that meant sneaking around. Though he was clearly afraid of her, Rosher did believe that at times he could manipulate her. Emeria played along, but only because she assumed this would pay off at a later date. Around normal people, he was clearly a master manipulator, though Emeria was far from normal in that respect. Emeria had heard many rumors about how Rosher had reached his position and most involved bribery, blackmail, and the like. He always played the attentive advisor, but Emeria knew better, no matter how far he bowed, he would always be out for his own gain.

“Yes Rosher,” Emeria said at last, “The plan has moved on splendidly. My gift has been received and Chirock will soon be mine for the taking.” She hopped up from the throne and ran towards Rosher, leaning down to catch his gaze, despite his bow. “I was talking to Moren, he was quite excited to hear that we will be leaving very soon.”

“We? My queen, can’t the men handle this without you?” Rosher feigned concern. “Surely you’re not needed with them. We outnumber their forces at least five to one based on the most recent intelligence. Not to mention our soldiers are battle-hardened and well, the Chirock forces haven’t seen conflict in ages.”

“Oh I know all that,” Emeria answered playfully. “This isn’t about just conquering them Rosher. It is about so much more. First, I want as many of their citizens and soldiers alive as possible. For once, I want to minimize casualties. The value of Chirock isn’t in numbers but in craftsmanship. The lowest smith from that kingdom makes finer goods than the best of our own. Besides, why kill someone if you can enslave them?”

“Well, yes my queen, but,” Rosher tried interjecting and was cut short.

“Secondly, and might I add far more importantly, this is about making a statement to the other kingdoms,” Emeria said. “This battle will show MY might. I want the whole of Surren to shake in fear when they hear my name. To have people cower when they even think they hear the Sacrotian army march. I will be putting my power on display here so that word can spread. I will show everyone that I can conquer the supposedly impenetrable mountain keep of Chirock.”

“I do understand all of that, my queen,” Rosher continued. “All that said, our army is capable of all of that. More importantly, we would be lost if by some accident you weren’t to return from the battlefield. Your divine guidance helps us all and without an heir to the throne we would be aimless.” Emeria cringed and snarled her lips as Rosher said the word “heir,” this was a particular point that Rosher brought up from time to time that drove Emeria mad. Due to the bloodline nature of Sacrotia’s royal family, an heir was of great importance to the people. That said, with Emeria’s condition she appeared to be incapable of providing such an heir. Despite her actual age, her appearance being that of a child prevented her from having to worry about things like marriage and giving birth to an heir. As far as anyone could tell Emeria had ceased aging when she had killed her parents and taken the Bloodstone. She’d generally liked this part of her transformation, though deep down she knew it was some part of her connection to the Bloodstone that allowed her to stay this way. If she had actually grown up normally, Rosher would be trying to force her into courtship with a lord or baron to form a political marriage and strengthen the throne. She locked eyes with Rosher and stared him down, ending that particular line of discussion.

Rosher went flush at her stare but did not speak. “Out with it,” Emeria spat out, “We both know a few measly soldiers won’t be enough to kill me, so what exactly is it that really concerns you Rosher? You’re not normally this much of a thorn in my side.”

Clearly caught off guard Rosher stammered, “Well… I just… I just don’t trust that Huntsman you call your general! He’s a savage and I believe he’d just as quickly put a knife in your back as he would aid you.”

Emeria chuckled, “Under normal circumstances, I would agree with you Rosher, but as I’ve told you before, he isn’t capable of betraying me.”

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“I know you’ve said that your highness, but I just can’t let this go. He’s not from here, how can we possibly trust him when he used to cause us such trouble?” Rosher was more animated than usual as he said this, his pride for his kingdom showing through. Emeria was beginning to suspect that Rosher had heard some of the things Moren was usually muttering under his breath.

“Rosher, I have my reasons for trusting him,” Emeria paused for a moment. “Do you know what he was back in the forest, back in Morenseo?” She placed a hand reassuringly on Rosher’s shoulder, though she could feel his pace quicken.

“Of course my queen, he was the huntmaster of the whole forest, their chief,” he said as he tensed up recollecting what had happened the last time Emeria placed hands on him. “He was the most powerful man in all of Morenseo and often raided our supply lines, a rather brazen move for someone akin to a king.”

“Yes, that is all correct,” Emeria replied with a grin. “He was a very active leader, a very brave one, respected and beloved by all of his people despite the fact that he isn’t exactly very old. He bears the title of Moren and that is not one given lightly at all. He’s the youngest in their history to have that title in fact. His people are reverent of nature and deeply spiritual. They honor the dead of their enemies as much as they honor their own or the animals they hunt. So yes, he has every single reason I can imagine to hate me. I stand for the sorts of things he abhors, but you know what Rosher?” Emeria questioned sadistically.

“No my queen, I do not know,” Rosher replied stubbornly. All of that tells me we should be wary. Did he do something to dishonor himself in the eyes of his people, has he been cast out?”

“No, not at all, they still desperately seek his return, but none of that matters.” Emeria locked eyes with Rosher and hers began to beam a bright red. “He has no choice but to obey me. He may be big and strong, he may be loyal and honorable, but I have taken the one thing from him that matters the most, I have taken his will.”

“How so?” Rosher asked eagerly, hoping to find some leverage on another powerful person. “What information do you have on him?”

“No, no, no Rosher,” Emeria said playfully, her eyes still swimming with blood. “You’re not listening. He is quite literally forced to do as I say, not through the sort of methods you use, but through my own.” Rosher looked at her quizzically, clearly not understanding. “You have seen the tattoos covering his body correct?” Rosher replied with a simple nod. “Well, all of those are of course magical runes and he has them all over, but what you don’t see is the largest one that covers his entire back. He makes very sure to cover this particular one up because it is his greatest shame. It is a mark that forces his obedience.”

“So this allows you to control the man fully?” Rosher asked, “I’ve never heard of any mage who could do such a thing, how can you be sure he won’t break the magic?”

“I can be sure because I put it there myself,” Emeria replied confidently. “I bonded his very will to mine with blood magic so old that not even the priests know of it. If he ever tries to disobey me or the gods below, harm me, his whole body would seize up and his heart would stop, and his very blood would rip him apart. If I ever don’t like what he says I can cause him immense pain. All I have to do is pull the leash and my obedient dog has to follow. He’s as broken as a domesticated dog can be.” Emeria could see the sickened look on Rosher’s face. Clearly, the very notion was making him physically ill. “But please Rosher, by all means, if you do not trust my magic there is a rather simple solution.”

With a hard clearing of his throat, Rosher replied, “I am all ears, my queen.”

With a wicked grin, Emeria removed her gauntlet and pulled a small dagger from her belt, slicing the softest part of the middle of her palm. Blood began to pool and a small tendril wriggled to life. She held her palm close to Rosher’s face. “I can give you the same mark I gave Moren and you can see how effective the binding is!” The tendril shot toward Rosher violently, stopping just before his face. Rosher dropped to his knees going as pale as ivory before passing out. Emeria began laughing madly, amused by the poor man’s suffering. The tendril slithered back into her palm and she put her gauntlet back on. She skipped gleefully over Rosher and out the doorway before heading down the hall in the direction of the hangar where the aerial soldiers awaited her.

Moren stood inside the hangar bellowing out orders at the soldiers as they scrambled to get their mounts prepared for the upcoming battle. All of the Soldiers in the room stopped dead in their tracks as Emeria entered, bowing their heads low to avoid their queen’s gaze. Moren stood statue still a frown cracking his face as he refused to bow. “Are all the preparations taken care of my general?” Emeria asked happily.

With a terse grunt, Moren motioned to the dragons in lines near the entrance to the hangar. Each different dragon was fitted with a saddle and plate armor, the prerequisite gear to head into battle. The slate and crimson emblem of Sacrotia marked each and every piece, leaving no doubt as to who was flying death to your door. Several soldiers were still filling up their saddle bags, but Moren grumbled out, “They are ready.”

“Oh come on now, don’t be so glum,” Emeria said happily. “We’re about to fly into battle, I don’t know how you can be so grim about it. War is always such a happy time,” she finished with a cackle. She swatted Moren on the shoulder and a twinge of pain crossed his face as his eyes flashed red for a brief moment. His neck twinged, but he tried very hard to keep his stony look to not give Emeria more enjoyment. Even so, Emeria licked her lips, getting sadistic joy at his pain. She raised her voice, getting the attention of the soldiers in the hangar, “The time has come my loyal men! Today we get to spread the glory of our kingdom! We will go from one kingdom to a truly great empire by nightfall!” The men cheered, working themselves into the same frenzy of bloodlust that Emeria thought was a natural state.

Emeria ran to the front of the hangar where the two special mounts stood, though a good distance apart. One was an exceptionally large and proud-looking Moren’s Moss Dragon. It was clearly a strong dragon, it wore no armor, just a crude leather saddle, and simple reins. Moren hopped expertly onto its’ back, taking the reins in one hand as he gave the dragon a soothing pat. It lowered for him and shifted to the side, cowering due to the mount next to it.

Emeria’s personal mount stood, breathing heavily, pushing against the chains that held it in place and kept all those inside the hangar safe. It stood roughly twice the size of even the largest of the normal dragons in the pen, even dwarfing the Moss Dragon. The beast was a Sacrotian Reaver, an incredibly rare, savage dragon that was only ever found in the mountains to the north of Sacrotia. They were known for their brutality and the fact that they were one of the only kinds of dragons known to attack others for sport. Reavers have been near extinction for some time due to how few survive their own natural savagery. The Reaver was onyx with flecks of red throughout. It had a large head with massive jaws to swallow other beasts whole, powerful legs, and clawed wings that acted as its front legs when on the ground. At the very back was a long barbed tail with razor-sharp spears coming off the end. It had several rather large chests secured over its back, a large saddle, and a very intricate harness latching to its mouth. Emeria approached the dragon, facing it directly, and staring into its piercing yellow eyes. The dragon's lips curled under the muzzle that held its jaw shut. Emeria held out her fist, opening it with a swift motion. As she did the muzzle unlocked, freeing the beast's maw. With a few small snaps, the Reaver loosened its jaws and stared back at Emeria before bellowing a roar that shook the entire hangar. Emeria grinned and took in a deep breath. She savored every second she spent with this dragon. It had long been the only thing she had considered a friend. Legends had told that the earliest of Sacrotian nobles rode Reavers, but it had been more than a hundred years since one had been seen, let alone captured as Emeria’s pet was.

The Reaver tilted its head down in reverence of its master and Emeria gave it a gentle loving pat on the nose. This act of basic kindness unnerved all those in the hangar as it didn’t fit either monster involved in the act. “Is my good girl ready to have some fun?” Emeria asked excitedly. “I know it’s been so, so long since I’ve taken you out, but I promise, this will be better than anything you remember. We’re not just going out to hunt blasphemers and heretics today, we’re going out to start a war.” As though the beast recognized the word it let out a small hungry snarl. Emeria removed her gauntlet and took her small dagger from her belt, cutting across the still-fresh wound on her palm. Blood pooled, but this time she formed no tendril. She let the blood pool and begin to drip normally. She put her hand out and the Reaver eagerly opened its mouth. Emeria held her hand inside the dragon’s mouth and clenched her fist, squeezing the blood so it dropped right onto the dragon’s tongue. After several moments she pulled her hand back and put her gauntlet back on. As she did the Reaver closed its mouth, licking its lips. A jolt of red magical energy surged through the dragon and its scales flickered. The belly of the beast was now a flaming red, humming with magical energy. It picked up its head and let loose an even deeper roar as it ripped apart the chains holding it in place with ease. Emeria skipped over and hopped right onto the Reaver’s back without hesitation.

She turned back to look at the men in the hangar and let loose a cry of “For the glory of Sacrotia!” As she finished her Reaver lunged forward, opening its wings as it fell out of the hangar and took to the sky. With one great flap of its gargantuan wings, the dragon soared into the air high above the entrance to the hangar. Moments later Moren flew his dragon out of the hangar with the rest of the soldiers falling into rank behind him. Emeria pressed a hand to her mouth and began to speak. A small red flicker filled Moren’s ear as Emeria began, ‘This should be a relatively quick affair, though I do plan on making quite the spectacle of myself. I would suggest you and the other soldiers keep your distance and do not land anywhere near me. If you don’t heed my warning I cannot guarantee your safety. In fact I can assure your demise at that rate. When we get above the battlefield all I need your soldiers to do is to release the saddlebags and get out of the way. I will take care of everything else. You’re just coming to observe the beauty of the battle.”

“Yes my queen,” Moren sighed back. Since the day he had met Emeria he wished for only one thing, to be free of his bond. Day after day passed by and that was the only consistent thought crossing his mind. Some time ago he gave up on ever hoping of gaining his freedom. Hope was something he just didn’t have the optimism for anymore. At this point, the only thing he saw as a glimmer of hope was the cold embrace of death. Unfortunately for him, he had yet to find someone capable of granting him that on the battlefield.