The Flame of Wrath (18 page)

             
When Angelos III had warned her that a social uprising against the druids and their allies was coming, she had not wished to believe him. As Echo turned to hold the eyes of her Empress, she knew that the man she viewed as surrogate uncle had been right to fear Aurea.

             
The Empress pushed herself up slowly from her throne. She moved with the distinctive slither of confidence. She stopped before the woman petite enough to gaze into her eyes evenly. Peering into Echo, she reached outward to caress her cheek.

             
“Nothing would please me more than to be proven wrong,” Aurea soothed. “I wish this were all a horrible mistake, but as Empress, I cannot take the chance that such a mighty force in both, influence and number could have turned against this house.” Her sapphire eyes implored the enigmatic woman of Black Flame to see reason. “Think of the people,” she said. “Could you avert your eyes for tradition's sake when Black Flame could be at risk?”

             
Echo arched her brow as she weighed Aurea's word. She was quiet patience. She did not bend beneath the might of the staggering silence weighing down upon her while all eyes looked to her. Then after a moment, her face transformed to show a dramatic softening. Gracefully, she bowed with fist over heart. “Forgive me, Empress. I should have known that you would have only the best intentions for your people.”

             
Aurea smiled warmly as she nodded her forgiveness. She slipped from Echo's presence, offering herself up to the rest of the room.

             
Beautifully, she traversed the area. As she walked, she exchanged meaningful gazes with the many. At times she offered the softest of reassuring caresses, but always she brought with her presence the sense that everything would be all right. “I know to discuss these things seems almost blasphemous,” she said, “but you must remember that we are not speaking out against our Goddess.”

             
The Empress stopped. She searched the faces of murmuring royals. She could sense their unease. “We are speaking out against men,” she clarified, “and men can be corrupt.”

             
An enchanting blond stood flanked by many nobles. She was elegantly swaddled within royal purple silk. She listened to their words. All around her, the doubt began to fade. She discreetly observed their telling body language then shot a discerning look to the Empress.

             
Having seen Maven's look indicating that the day had been won, Aurea inwardly smiled. She reveled in this first victory. With the druids as enemies of Pyros, they would not stand in her way on the path to a much larger destiny, a grander one.

             
As the nobles pledged their eternal support to the Empress, one small entourage among countless others slipped from sight.

             
Echo walked through elaborate halls with her most trusted circle following close behind. Her face was focused. Her eyes were the smoldering depths of intensity.

             
“Where are we going, my Queen?” she heard asked pensively. It was spoken in a tongue distinctly unique to her clan. It was a dialect only used outside of their home when a person did not feel safe in their surroundings.

             
Echo understood that feeling of uncertainty. She felt it coursing throughout her body “We will go to my Uncle,” she answered in like tongue. “He will know what to do.”

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It had taken the better part of two days to come to fruition, but another meeting had been called to follow the one held at the royal palace. This gathering was held within the heart of Angels. It was also held without the knowledge of a turning regime. The province no longer celebrated. Instead, it seemed lost within deep mourning.

             
Under the greatest of necessity, three provinces had banded together. What strength could three provinces possess? At first, their number might have appeared greatly dwarfed by the number of provinces gathered to the palace, but numbers can sometimes be misleading. The three provinces present were among the strongest and largest in the entire empire.

             
The Province of Angels was a conceivable threat for the fact that despite Aurea's attempt at protecting herself and attaining more power, she had not remedied a significant problem. Should she but step a single foot upon Angelos' soil, Angelos III could by right have her arrested. She would then fall prey to his judgments as the ruler of his land. No change in her title could change that particular law. If she were to ever try removing the law from record, it would send the royals from the other provinces into such a state of panic that all her work to gain allies would be for naught. While that ancient law remained, he knew that Aurea would avoid his lands forever.

             
Angels also housed the most elite army in the Pyrosian world. They were fierce and precise. And yet, the most ferocious element about them was their intense loyalty to their King.

             
The Province of Black Flame consisted of many able-bodied warriors. They were bettered only by Angels and Shadow Reign in their skill, however they did far-surpass Shadow Reign in number. Their legions of archers ruled the land with a prestigious honor of being second to no one. Like Angels, they felt an unwavering loyalty to their Queen. She was new to power since the passing of her father which meant that she relied upon the experience of her Uncle Angelos III for guidance. That kindred spirit of family only furthered the bond between clans.

             
The final province in attendance was that of Illusion. Their army's greatest strength was primarily their graceful talent for stealth. One never realized the presence of their men until it was too late. They came as swift death. Because of this, one never knew the precise number of their forces. Their province had survived on secrecy. In fact, they fostered the uncertainty regarding their numbers. It made them an underestimated threat which so often served to their advantage.

             
The Province of Illusion had a personally vested interest in the coming chaos. For you see, throughout the land no one province had known the presence of more druid births than their enigmatic home. Their people had been blessed, but to a ruler who knew the grips of hatred, nothing in this bit of Pyrosian trivia alluded to a blessing. In fact, to Aurea it might have seemed a curse. Their province was facing a fight for survival.

             
Although they were groups of representative factions, they might have given the outward appearance of a more intimate dinner party. It had been decided that only the highest ranking members of each Province would make the journey to Angels for the reason that surely Aurea had begun to observe anyone she perceived to be a threat. Now as they stood beneath the castle within the haunting darkness of a dimly lit tunnel, they knew that even among their own homes, it was dangerous to speak freely. The members present had been sworn to silence. They had given their word that should they be questioned, they would die before revealing the nature of this conversation or those present when it took place. That reality caused a prominent weight to rest upon their chests.

             
The house of Illusion did something all-together unlike them. Their representative, King Frost, spoke first. “We face extinction,” he said coolly.

             
Frost held a torch within a steady hand. Its light washed warmly over his leathery skin. His eyes were dark and green much like the forest which he felt most at home within. The flowing length of his stark white hair showed the patient wisdom with which he tried to lead his people. Its ends touched the base of his spine in a slender braid.

             
The young woman at his side mirrored his strength, but to its likeness she added her own quiet beauty. She exchanged a meaningful gaze with Echo. “The old ways are being threatened,” she voiced softly. Her voice had been laced by a sorrow which tugged at Echo's heart.

             
Angelos III stood between two warriors representing each of the factions within his house, the Spartan soldiers of Angels and the divine Guardians of Angels. His sad winter eyes observed Zahara keenly. In the golden light, she was a symbol of what could be lost. He looked away, gazing back to the others.

             
“We must find a means of protecting the druids,” he said. “This is the reason I have called you to me.”

             
Echo did not look away from the beauty holding her eyes even as she spoke to the King. “Uncle, what is this madness about treason?” she asked. Her eyes finally tore away to meet those of Angels' King.

             
The General sighed loudly. “The Empress asked for my daughter's hand and I sought consult,” he began.

             
“In accordance to custom,” Echo interjected calmly. She and all those present were all too familiar with the ways of the Angels clan.

             
Angelos III nodded. “Yes, but after consulting both counsels and learning that it was against the stars and therein the Dragon's plan, I did not bless the marriage. I forbid it. Aurea became incensed.

             
“When arriving to our province, the Empress was ignorant to our ways, but somehow she learned that a druid was consulted. She deemed my actions and the actions of all those involved as treasonous.”

             
“That makes no sense,” Echo uttered in frustration.

             
“She makes no sense,” the soft-spoken woman of Illusion said.

             
Frost looked to his daughter sternly. “Myth, do not forget that we are speaking of our Empress,” he chastised, ever the watchful father.

             
“And our Empress is dangerous,” Myth retorted evenly. She peered deeply into his eyes. “Father, I have seen it. I know it to be true.”

             
Zahara had watched all from behind her beautiful mask of silver. She knew Myth well. The young woman was a fierce warrior, but had she chosen not to follow the path of battle, Myth could have easily become a great oracle. She had the gift of sight. “What vision did you have, Enlightened?” she asked, referring to Myth by a title of greatest respect for her abilities.

             
Myth spoke with all the weight of her people bearing down upon her shoulders. “I have seen the death of the Sacred Dragon.” She heard the frightened gasps which filled the air. She elevated her voice only slightly to speak over its sound as she added, “At the Dragon Child's hand.”

             
“Can it be done?” Echo demanded of the others. “Can a Dragon Child kill Her? Can anyone actually kill Her?”

             
“Slayer of the Beast.”

             
All eyes shifted to Myth as if to lance through her for her words.

             
“It is what she will be called.”

             
Frost swayed. He leaned wearily against the tunnel wall, feeling the dank surface against his cheek. It was dismal and gritty. He suddenly felt the powerful grip of despondence claiming his soul. What would a world be without the Dragon in it?

             
Myth tenderly steadied her father. She held him close as he used her for support.

             
Zahara did not join the others in lowering their heads. She instead stared transfixed into the torchlight. The fire soothed her spirits. “It is a vision of a possible future and visions can be changed,” she whispered. In the silence, her soft voice was all but deafening.

             
“I pray you are right,” Myth admitted, “for all our sakes.”

             
Angelos III woke from his fears, from the flashes of the visions which never failed to truly leave him. They hovered always a worded-trigger away. “We must make a signal to know when to come together. Meetings between us must be carefully planned. We will surely be watched in the coming months.”

             
“Agreed,” the others voiced in unison.

             
“Individually, we must begin gathering the druids to the one place they will be safe: Angel Province.”

             
“There are many tunnels which traverse our land,” Zahara said. She offered each member present a parchment which detailed the labyrinthine havens beneath the province. “If you can manage to bring the druids to the entrances, they can follow the paths to our land's protection.”

             
The members of the other provinces nodded their understanding as their eyes studied the maps.

             
Angelos III looked between each soul near to him. In the haunting light of the torches, there had been a fleeting attempt to banish the darkness, but it seemed to loom so near as if to swallow them up at any moment. “Do we understand the journey we are about to embark upon?”

             
There was silence. Then finally, a female voice spoke softly into the stillness.