4

“Hurry, he’s awake!” The voice was an old one, a familiar one.

Theop’s eyes fluttered open before he closed them shut once more against the room’s shining interior, lit by the noonday sun. Silk sheets were cool against his torso as he lay resting on his stomach. Thoughts crept in his hazy mind after a moment, slowly focusing. How long had that bitter concoction left him unconscious? Hours, they said it would be. A glance through the recovery chamber’s window proved that had been incorrect. He expected it to be hot, but then memory returned that this chamber was high above the city streets, kept cool by the strong crosswinds that buffeted the Celestial Palace’s higher spires.

Hands pressed against Theop’s bare back, fingers kneading into freshly-healed muscles, pressing him against the bed. It took great focus not to rise up against those hands. Focus. He had prepared for this moment for what felt like ages and knew this to be a time for uncharacteristically small steps. With another exhale, the world lost more of its clouded, anesthetic edge.

People stood about him in the stark white room. Several were high-ranking bloodmages in full military attire, overlapping steel discs forming a light cover over long robes that barely fell short of sweeping against the floor. The garb would not make them invulnerable on a battlefield, but it would be wasteful to give them less; they needed to bleed, but leaving half a battlefield scorched beneath a sheet of glass was rarely beneficial. Their arms were bared to the elbows, some forearms seemingly more scar than not. Those would be the fighting men. Others bore scars only in the palms of their hands–those would be the newest recruits or, more likely in this room, mages who had never seen battle. Not every bloodmage awaited a glorious destiny, but those were often hard to come by in this age.

“Detar,” Theop said. Was that hoarse growl his own voice?

The man who alerted the others moments earlier knelt before Theop. Detar was many years older than Theop–old enough to be his grandfather, perhaps–and a trusted adviser to the throne. He kept his head shaved completely bald, wore a constant covering of beard stubble along his jaw, and had bushy black eyebrows. Though he was not himself a bloodmage, he had studied the ways of magic extensively over his life and had even partially aided in Theop’s magical instruction years earlier, when Theop was but a teenager. Detar wore the ceremonial clothes to which he was accustomed: a silver-trimmed black coat with a high collar, long coattails, sleeves running down his forearm, terminating to reveal hands in sleek black leather gloves. A single-edged sword hung at his left hip, concealed by a scabbard covered in tight scrollwork. Theop had never seen Detar use his blade in battle, but former comrades spoke with awe of Detar’s abilities. Displays in the practice yard were little in comparison to battle prowess, but he still moved with the speed and agility of a soldier forty years his junior.

Detar’s eyebrows furrowed as he regarded Theop, concern flashing through steel blue irises.

“Yes, Blood Emperor.” Detar glanced to the men on Theop’s right, and they fidgeted before him. Three of the men were dressed as bloodmages, two stood in the white coats of surgeons, and Minister Ferr stood at the forefront. The hands against Theop’s back tensed briefly before relaxing yet still holding firm.

“How do I fare?”

Detar turned to Ferr, who nodded. “The healers you and Minister Ferr chose were indeed the best in their fields. They researched the additions and the grafting extensively. We learned much, but most importantly, they were able to do as you asked. The new human era you speak of may yet be upon us.”

Theop relaxed, breathed more easily. He was amazed to find himself with only a dull ache across his back, but he believed that to be a lingering result of the tincture he had taken last night. The hands pressing along his back were unpleasant, but they were not necessarily uncomfortable.

“Good,” Theop said. “This new era will require strong leadership, and I intend to be that leader.” The grin slipped easily across his face. “I think I may find much honor in binding the human nations as one. We’ll finally stand on our own. We’ll be capable without charity.”

“Yes, my lord,” Detar said. He returned Theop’s smile, but something did not seem…genuine. The smile faltered, and his eyes twitched to the room’s left side, where more men startled in surprise.

Theop felt himself tense, relaxation fading. “Detar,” he said, his tone slow and even.

Detar turned back to his Blood Emperor, met him again with those piercing blue eyes. They quivered as though the man wanted to escape Theop’s gaze.

“This is remarkable news you’ve given me,” Theop said. “Why do the men look as though they expect nooses at sunrise?”

Detar let loose a long sigh. “Sire,” he said.

Theop’s patience finally faltered. “Out with it!” Detar may have raised Theop since the death of the previous Blood Emperor, but still the difference between royal advisor and Blood Emperor was vast.

Detar stayed calm, but the others looked on in horror. Even as Theop scanned the room, men shied from his gaze, shuffling in place without moving their feet. The advisor glanced to the white tiled floor before turning back to Theop. “They escaped.” His voice was hardly more than a whisper. The trusted men in the room winced at the words, but no one else spoke. Detar was the only one among them who would always avoid the Blood Emperor’s ire.

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Theop began to rise up on the bed, but Detar motioned for him to remain still. Hands tightened against his back, and Theop relented. Even as Theop sagged back into his place on the bed, Detar’s eyes quivered as he desperately wanted to look away but feared the consequences of doing so. “Escaped?” Theop asked.

Detar’s throat clicked as he swallowed. “Yes,” he said. “Just after sundown. The results were, well, devastating.”

“Who helped them?” Theop asked. “How did they find out?”

Detar shook his head. “The reports I received stated that they all escaped without assistance.”

Inconceivable! They should have been powerless! Theop’s hand trembled as he gripped an edge of the bed, but he willed it still. The other men in the room were right; he would not–could not–unleash fury against Detar. Yet Theop’s mind worked in a craze as he sought the right words. None of this made sense! The ermen were restrained! The three had been so resistant to yielding information over the previous two weeks, but Theop knew that he would need them to answer his questions. Prison wardens and bloodmages had been too lenient on them, perhaps, but Theop knew that he himself could find a way to shatter their defenses and rip from them the secrets of Edaria.

“How?” Theop asked. It was the only word he could muster.

Detar shrugged. “We do not know. They used aether, even though we knew that should have been impossible. We stripped all the filaments from their bodies we could find, but there must be something else at hand here, something we couldn’t have known of.”

“If they could still draw aether, why would they let themselves be contained that long in the first place?” Two weeks the three captives spent in cells in different places around the capital. As far as Theop knew, they were unaware of each other. A coordinated escape should have been impossible.

“We still don’t know, my lord,” Detar said. “The other ermen fled to Edaria yesterday afternoon as expected during nights without Rythellas. It’s odd that these three should escape on one of the nights we believe them to be at their weakest.”

Theop nodded. Anger at the men in the room would not be the proper answer. This was something beyond even his own understanding, and he would not hold them accountable for this shortcoming.

“The damage was extensive,” Detar continued. “In total, we lost nearly two hundred men. Even the Healer left the northern side of the Wolf’s Palisade in shambles. Men are still there clearing out burned bodies and workers are trying to keep the entire facility from toppling over into the streets. It’s barely standing as it is, but bloodmages are present and stabilizing the structure for now.”

“I take it you’ve already taken some action?”

“Yes, my lord. I met with General Hibranth, and units have been sent into the city to search for the escapees. Gliders and several bloodmage patrols. Guards on the gates and at the train depot, but with strict instruction not to rouse suspicion from the remaining few Edarians in the city. Business with them should be returning to normal soon, so we’re trying to keep the matter confidential.”

“The Trade Plaza Portal?” Theop asked. “The embassy? Both covered?”

“Yes,” Detar said. “The Portal is currently closed with increased guard presence in the Trade Square, and a perimeter of guards is being maintained in a two-block radius of the embassy. They should not be able to leave Garenesh.”

Theop remained unconvinced. If the escapees the night before were as catastrophic as Detar indicated, he was no longer certain of erman capabilities. He needed more captives for information; he would never be able to control this power without their Edarian wisdom.

“We cannot afford to cause a scene,” Theop said after a few moments passed. “If we catch them in the city, they may raise questions if they resist, but we can’t afford to leave them be until Rythellas is full again.” That had been the night when they first detained the ermen, and without incident. And who knows if they can blow apart half the city in the meantime? Best not to voice that question aloud. “We should let them think they’re escaping while funneling them into a single route.”

Worry finally melted from Detar’s eyes. He must have finally seen that his trusted Blood Emperor would seize control of this catastrophe. “What do you suggest, my lord?”

“Investigate the attacks and report your findings to me as soon as you are able. Report the investigations to the newspapers, but be sure not to mention Edaria. If anything, insinuate Dresk. It will give us increased leverage in the upcoming campaign if you can. Use your best judgment, and I will trust you. Keep eyes on the gates, embassy, and Trade Plaza Portal.” Men behind Detar nodded, making notes for orders to pass along to their own men. Theop finally grinned. “Keep the gates closed for three days while we investigate the attacks and prepare for reconstruction, allowing for only the most vital of trade through the gates. In the meantime, increase patrols within the city, as much as we are able.”

“And the Portal?” Detar asked.

“Closed, except for any ermen returning to Edaria. Keep it monitored. Halt train passage into the city for the rest of the day today, and then resume normal operations tomorrow morning at sunrise. Tell the people that the city has been attacked, and that they are free to evacuate to the countryside if they feel the need, but that we have the situation under control. Make sure that every outbound train carries a bloodmage and a small squad of soldiers under his command, and have them return to the capital to do it again once they’ve reached their destinations. Civilian clothing. Continue for five days.”

Detar chuffed a single laugh before standing and facing the rest of the men in the stark white recovery room. “You heard your Blood Emperor, men!” he said. “Make it happen.”

The men snapped to attention, double-pounding their fists over their hearts in salute. “For the blood!” they said in unison before filing from the room.

Regaining control over bad situations had always been one of Theop’s strengths. He would hide this disaster at all costs, regain custody of the three precious ermen, and unlock the secrets he needed for victory. His body tensed in anticipation, and hands scrambled across his back to keep him restrained. He would have everything.

His six wings flapped lazily against each other.