Tales of the Vangen: The Dead King of Danic (Book 3)

Chapter 29: the Long Road Ahead

 Beginning of ACT 2

Death came for Libro, but the Empress denied it once more. He opened his eyes to blue sky and bird song. The Verdant Plains. A beautiful mirage, if but little else. Before the Empress used half of Byzantia's citizens as kindling, turning the once lush paradise into a gray wasteland.

The spicy richness of tilled earth nipped at Libro's nostrils. He sat up, wiping red dust off of his shoulders and arms. He'd been laying in a horse track, fine dirt spread out in a long oval shape, rope fencing on either side. The Imperial manor loomed off in the distance, its stony gray foundation as solid as it was graceful.

He remembered the Empress mentioning horses once. Her son loved to ride them whenever they visited their little villa. Well, used to anyway. One fall and a broken neck later, everything had changed. To think that one simple act could alter the course of history forever.

Libro wondered what life under the Emperor would have been like if the Empress had never killed him in the first place. Was it grief over her son that had changed her, or something else? Memories of Elena crossed his thoughts briefly. As the Emperor's mistress, one could only wonder where she fit in this twisted, imperial puzzle. But there would be time later to wonder over the past.

Libro had other, more present matters to attend to.

"Empress!" He called out, wiping the last of the road dust off his uniform. "Empress, where are you?"

"I am here, my Captain." A cold tickle ran up Libro's back. He turned, found himself staring down the nose of a mighty stallion, its thick corded muscles wrapped in a tight bound of dark furred flesh. Atop it sat the Empress, dressed in a gown of deep royal purple trimmed with gold and stitched with black pearls, her ivory white mask polished to a mirror bright shine. A simple circlet of burnished gold sat atop her bruised temples, trailed by a silk hood that hid the shadowy outline of a pale, shapely neck.

A second horse stood next to her. A brown chestnut stallion, saddled and bridled, awaiting its rider. Without a word, Libro mounted up, taking the reins with his one good hand. He squeezed his thighs for balance and hitched the horse into a soft trot. They rode on, sunlight shining between the leaves of the trees swaying close by.

For a long, agonizing moment they rode together in silence, The Empress never once turning to look at him. Libro glared at her side-eyed, wondering when the questions would start, the prodding, the gentle reminders of where he stood in her eternal empire. Alas, all that was spoken of was the chittering of insects, the nickering of horses, and the unknowable secrets whispered by the wind.

"Empress," Libro started to say, knowing full well he was walking into a trap. "I need to go back. I still have yet to find Regis."

"I am well aware," the Empress said, her voice cold and calm, like the soft tumbling of fresh snow. "Both the rebels and the King's soldiers have made it quite difficult for you. It is hard to find one man when the entire kingdom he hides in tries to kill you."

Libro swallowed, wondering just how much she knew. He looked directly at her, realized she'd guided her horse to the other side of the track, far away from reaching distance. Back when he'd first grabbed her a year ago he'd sensed something happen between them, and by no doubt did she sense it as well. It was the same snapping sensation he'd experienced in Middlefort. The scars in his arm, they could take hold of other people's magick, even rip it out if necessary.

He stared down at his hand, remembering the crushed iron ball, the Chosen he'd sent flying with a single punch. Perhaps he could even retain some of that magick and use it for himself. A petrifying prospect, he considered. Ever since joining the Vangen his exposure to magick had shown him it was a fickle master at best, and a terrifying weapon at worst.