The Blood Empress (6 page)

She bit her lower lip and smudged the carefully painted deep red color. An attendant quickly stepped in and reapplied makeup to her lip. Nykostra forced a sublime smile as the artist's brushes darted back and forth across their canvases.

She knew what had happened. The future had whispered to her again and she had unconsciously brushed it away. For it did not include who was most important to her and it was soaked with the blood of her victims.

***

N'arvon kept to the shadows near the back of the royal kitchen. The chefs were barking orders to their underlings as they scattered like field rats across a flooded plain. Foreign scents from the spices of distant Kastras flooded the kitchen. Nobody had time to notice him in the shadows, watching a particular worker handling the kegs and wine barrels that had been brought forth for the evening meal.

There were wooden barrels from two Kastra present. One from Surg and one from Vicar. Had Lord Ku'nar won the duel, they were prepared to serve the wine from his homeland. But now that he had been killed, the man began to tap the second barrel from Vicar to honor Lord Ketar.

N'arvon reached out with his long, bony gray fingers and projected blocking thoughts to the Wine Master. He took his tap away from the Vicar barrel and moved back to the Surg barrel. Without hesitation he set the tap and began to fill the royal decanters with the dark red wine from Surg.

N'arvon slipped back into the shadows and soon left the kitchen through secret passages known only to the Soothsayers.

***

The royal feast to celebrate the union between Lord Ketar and Empress Nykostra was bigger and more extravagant than even she had anticipated. Looking around the great dining hall she wondered if her staff was more excited about the union than she was. Everyone all had smiles and cooperative demeanors as they served the attending guests. It was refreshing and in all honesty, a bit peculiar. Usually the help maintained a pleasant distance from everyone they served.

As she watched them moving to and fro across the great hall, she wondered if they hoped that her reign would be somehow less stressful for them. Sure, she had to endure not one but two take over attempts and occasionally a few heads rolled, but her staff never suffered for it, at least not that she could tell.

Lord Ketar was seated at the opposite end of the long, polished wood table. Nobody had taken that seat since her father had died. It was odd to see anyone in it, but somehow seeing Ketar in it brought joy to her heart. It was as if he were meant to sit there. Meant to be always at her side, ensuring the Empire ran smoothly for her. Taking the load off her shoulders to the extent that he was able to.
Yes, that will be a relief. Letting him take the burden from me when I need a break
.

Ketar picked up his glass of wine and stood to salute his future bride.

"To Empress Nykostra, the Kamsa-riecht! May her rule be swift and strong and may she guide the Empire into the future!"

Everyone raised their glasses to the toast. Nykostra raised hers and smiled at him like none other. He took a swig from the glass and turned away to raise it again in a second toast. In taking a step back, away from the table he fell down out of view to the stone floor below.

The table guests all gasped out loud as the nearest servant rushed to his aide. Empress Nykostra's face went white as she stared at the empty seat. The same cold air blew strong across her face and she knew in an instant that her love was gone. Forever.

She pushed back her chair, hiked up her gown and rushed to the far end of the table. Guests let her pass and attendants bowed out of her way. Tears streamed down her face before she got to Ketar's inert form.

He was face down on the floor, his dark eyes still open in a mask of shock. She fell to her knees and gently picked up his head. Her fingers became wet with blood from his cracked skull. She hugged her face to his, still warm but without the inner light of the living. There was no breath from his lips as she kissed him gently.

Reality seemed to sway back and forth as she rocked him in her arms. She felt herself swoon to the point where she almost blacked out from the shock and horror of seeing Ketar dead when just moments before he was so alive and shinning. Now he was still as death and she was falling down a spiraling pool of darkness that she felt unable to free herself from.

The world fell down and she saw only his face fading away, forever. The darkness that descended over her was suffocating. The darkness turned into a burning fire of hatred and anger. Her cheeks darkened as they warmed. Her tears boiled away as she let go of Ketar's head and rose to her feet.

Those closest to her backed away, feeling the burn of anger emanating from her. Her normally shiny black eyes began to glow like embers in a fire. The guests edged away faster, fearing her red eyes. Only the Soothsayers had such horrible eyes.

Nykostra turned her head towards the Kwizarra Lonn. Her black hair cut into a slant bob, fell back as she pointed her hellish eyes at him.

"You will pay for this Kwizarra Lonn. You will pay dearly."

He did not respond to her, his own crimson eyes steady and clear. She turned around sharply and grabbed the falchion from Ketar's side and unsheathed it. She raised the weapon over her head and screamed a sickening sound that only the anguished can utter.

Then she flung the weapon in the direction of the Kwizarra Lonn. He ducked out of the way easily and it rattled onto the stone floor nearby. Soldiers nearest the Empress drew their own falchions and disruptors to protect her. She took one last look down at Ketar.
Sweet, sweet Ketar. He did not deserve to die by poison,
t
he method of cowards.

She held out her hands, red with his blood. Bringing them slowly up to her face, she pressed them hard against her pale blue skin. When she lowered her hands his blood was streaked on her blue face.

She glanced over her shoulder at the Soothsayer one last time and then she marched out of the dining hall through a parting sea of guests and attendants, all of them staring in shock at their Empress.

The room turned back to look at the Kwizarra Lonn to see what he would do. He calmly pulled up his cloak and turned to leave the dining hall in the opposite direction, his head lowered in thoughtful repose.

Nykostra locked herself in her room for days afterward. Food and drink was left at her door but it was never taken. Inside she lay on top of her bed, fully clothed. Her face still smeared with the blood of Ketar. Tears flowed freely as she bawled off and on until the third day. Then she became quiet and her attendants feared that she may have taken her own life.

Her falchion was inside her room, stored above her headboard, leading many to think she might have used it on herself to join her dead lover. Finally the staff could wait no longer, they gathered outside her room and with the brute strength of three warriors they forced opened her door.

Inside, the room was empty and her falchion was missing. Attendants rushed into the lavatory with worried faces, but the Empress was nowhere to be seen. The only window in the room was locked tight from the inside keeping out the cold, winter winds.

The headmaster ordered the room searched again more thoroughly. Every piece of furniture was opened and pulled away from the stone walls. It was a very secure room, there was only one way in or out of it. Guards were posted at her door day and night.

Looking closely at the Empresses bed the Headmaster's dark eyes lifted to the empty mantle where her family falchion had rested. A sudden and dreadful thought burst into his head.

"Sound the General Alarm! The Empress has been kidnapped!"

Sirens began to warble throughout the Imperial castle. Security troops flooded the common areas, all were armed and under orders to find the Empress. There were hundreds of rooms in the castle and every one was to be methodically checked. The process would take hours to complete.

***

Nykostra felt her way in the cold, dark passage by sticking her hands and feet out before her and going slowly. She cursed herself for not bringing a lamp, but it was too late to turn back now. The secret Soothsayer passage spiraled down around and behind the chambers of the ancient castle.

The passages had been designed by the original architects, thousands of years ago. They were pitch dark and unbearably cold. She had left her room without bothering to put on anything more than her red formal gown which she had lived in for days now. It was wet from her tears and it smelled as foul as her own unwashed self.

None of that mattered to her. She tugged at the leather strap of her falchion's scabbard. She had thrown it over her shoulder before leaving - it was the only item she needed where she was going.

The passage widened and continued to spiral downward as her eyes began to adjust to the near darkness. Some light was coming from further ahead. It flickered like fire light. Torches perhaps. Her pacing increased until she realized there could be people ahead, guarding the entrance to the Soothsayer's den.

She slowed and drew her weapon from its sheath. The curved blade caught what little light came down the passage and she pushed forward with it held out before her and just to her side.

Her cold fingers tightened on the leather hilt as the passage came to a sudden end. Before her was a stone door with a macabre statue carved from black stone of some ancient Votainion god. There were no apparent handles to open the door. This was a secret lair and only the initiated knew how to get inside.

She lowered her falchion and cleared her mind. Confused thoughts were pushing their way inside her head. Fear and loathing that could only be the weaker Soothsayers inside, trying their best to ward her away.

She reached out to them, probing their feeble brains for how to open the door. it was like having a conversation with an insane person. Words drifted by incoherently as she tried to decipher how the door opened.

Finally one clear thought broke through the maddening crowd.

Nykostra touched the black statue's head with her right palm, caressing it ever so gently. The old stone door cracked open and a warm, yellow light nearly blinded her. She waited for the door to open fully before raising her falchion and entering.

Her mind was accosted by the pleas from thousands of Soothsayers as she pressed onward. Her eyes scrunched in pain as they screamed at her, trying to ward her off. But Nykostra would not be deterred. She had come to even a score and she didn't care how many grays died in the process. They were animals and she would slay them.

The interior corridor was warmed by the fires of torches. She walked purposely, her blade pointing down and slightly behind her, ready to strike. The first Soothsayer came around the nearest corner and held up his bony, gray arms in self defense. She cut them off and then thrust the weapon into his chest, puncturing his black heart. The man fell before her and she stepped over his bleeding corpse.
One down
.

She began to pick up her pace again before encountering two more adult males. They were unarmed too.
Stupid beasts.
She swung with all her might and their heads rolled, filling the hallway with their blood and bodies. She wiped blood from her face absently and continued onward.

More dark gray cloaks stepped before her blade and every one of them fell in bloody piles at her feet. Her lithe form jumped into her swings and the blade did the dirty work of separating limbs and heads.

Fewer grays came forward as she burst into a large chamber where dozens of them gathered around a fire fueled by coal. Nykostra slowed to a stop, her gown soaked in the blood of innocents, her blade held at the ready.

A single Soothsayer removed his monkish hood and stared in her direction. It was the Kwizarra Lonn. In the firelight she could see his wrinkled gray features and his wispy white hair tied behind his head. White patterns could be seen like war paint across his gray face. She had never noticed them before.

Nykostra felt the heat building inside her again. But she could barely hold her falchion up. Slowly she lowered it to the stone floor. She gripped it hard, ready to swing it back and continue killing. Her breath betrayed her, short and heavy. For the first time she realized how weakened she had been, refusing to eat for days. Now, when she faced the man she most wanted to kill, she realized that she couldn't even lift her heavy falchion.

Adrenalin and hatred had propelled her this far into the den, but now she lacked the strength to continue the fight. The Kwizarra Lonn knew it too. He made no effort to run, nor did the other grays that stood before the burning fire pit.

"I challenge you to a duel, Kwizarra Lonn. On behalf of Lord Ketar, my dead fiancé."

The Kwizarra Lonn opened his arms slowly so she could see that he was unarmed.

"You come into our den and slaughter unarmed men and now you wish to kill me in a similar fashion? You have no right to be here in these tunnels. Your heart burns with revenge for a killing I had no part of."

"Fomshook! I am the Kamsa-riecht. No land is beyond my reach, especially here beneath my castle. Face me now and pay with your life."

The old Soothsayer took a few steps towards Nykostra, careful to stop well beyond the reach of her blade. She slowly raised it to her shoulder, her muscles burning under the strain. She had one swing left in her and all she wanted was to cut his wrinkled gray head off.

"You have no more strength, Empress Nykostra. You should have eaten instead of festering in your hatred."

She spat at him. "Shut your mouth, beast!"

The other robed Soothsayers had slowly moved behind the Kwizarra Lonn. They half surrounded her in the warm cavern. Her skin was wet from perspiration and blood. She wiped her brow with the back of her arm as she watched them. She could feel them probing her mind, looking for a way in so they could force her to leave. Her eyes slammed shut for just a second and when they opened again, all of them were gone except for the Kwizarra Lonn.
Damn them
.