A Rule of Queens (Book #13 in the Sorcerer's Ring) (21 page)

Volusia opened her eyes, as the first light of dawn
broke through the window, and looked over to see herself lying in the Touched
Prince’s arms, her cheek on his chest, both of them naked beneath the silk
covers. They lay asleep in his kingly chambers, in his luxurious four-poster
bed, on the finest bedding she ever felt, and as she realized where she was,
she woke with a start, immediately raising her head, on guard.

It all came rushing back to her; sleeping with
the Prince had been a different experience than any man she’d ever been with.
He was so truly mad that it had taken her hours just to get his clothes off,
and he had resisted her most of the time.

But finally, after a certain point, she had
tamed him, had made him hers. She did not enjoy it, not a second of it. But she
could tell that he did—and that was what mattered. This was all a necessary
means to an end, as all men had been in her life. She would climb the rungs of
power in any way necessary, whether that required killing her own mother or sleeping
with a thousand men. Nothing would ever stand in her way.

Nothing
.

Volusia had a way of turning off a switch in
her mind, creating a sense of detachment, carrying herself away to a faraway
place. It was this cold detachment that allowed her to sleep with her worst
enemy, or torture someone just for fun. The touched prince was an evil,
sadistic man, who also happened to be mad. But in Volusia he had met his match:
she could be more sadistic than anyone—even someone like him.

Volusia thought of their agreement, her vow to
let him kill her only after she had slept with him. She smiled as she thought
of it. She loved making vows.

And she loved breaking them even more.

As she sat up, the Prince opened his eyes and sat
up, too. He turned to her, and as he looked at her, she saw something different
in his eyes this time. There was a clarity she had not seen before, as if his madness
had been calmed.

“My lady,” he said.

His voice surprised her. Now it was clear and
cool, not filled with the erratic madness she had heard before.

“You have done something to me,” he said. “Sleeping
with you…I can’t explain it. I feel different than I ever have before. I don’t
hear the voices. I feel calm. Normal. Back to the self I once knew.”

Volusia stood, putting on her robe, and studied
him, surprised. He stood, too, and put on his robe, lacking all of the erratic
movements and behavior he had shown the day before. He walked around her, took
both of her hands in his, and looked her in the face. She was baffled. Was this
just another act of madness? Or had something really shifted within him?

She had not foreseen this—and it was very rare
in her life when Volusia did not foresee something.

“You have given me life again,” he said
sweetly, softly, holding her hands. “You have made me
want
to live.”

Volusia looked into his eyes, and she could that
he was indeed a different man. She was speechless, and did not know how to
react.

“My lady, stay here with me,” he said. “Stay by
my side. Let me make you my queen. I will cherish you. My armies are vast, and
I will give you all my troops to do with as you wish. Anything—it shall all be
yours. Whatever your heart desires. Just stay by my side.
Please
. I need
you.”

She looked into his eyes as he leaned in and
kissed her, a soft gentle kiss, filled with lucidity. Volusia’s mind raced, as
she tried to contemplate this turn of events.

In the distance, Volusia could hear a soft chanting.
It gradually rose, greater and greater, and the Prince smiled and turned toward
his open-air arched balcony.

 “My people,” he explained. “It is how they
greet the day—they chant my name. They worship me. Be by my side, and they will
worship you, too.”

He took her hand and led her gently outside,
onto the spacious balcony, right up the trail. Volusia looked down over the
edge and her stomach dropped as she saw the steep drop below. Down below, the courtyard
was already packed with thousands of people, on their hands and knees, bowing,
all chanting.

“Maltolis! Maltolis!” they chanted.

He smiled and turned to her.

“Like you,” he said, “I take the name of my
city.”

Volusia took it all in, and she could see that he
was right: his people really did see him as a god. They worshipped him. Tens of
thousands of people, a greater army than she would ever have.

He turned to her.

“We shall unite, and we shall rule the empire
together,” he said.

Volusia smiled back at him, leaned in, and
kissed him.

They held hands as they turned and faced his
people together, all of them cheering wildly. Volusia knew that if she accepted
his offer, all of it would come to pass. She would have everything handed to
her that she needed to rule the Empire.

Yet as she stood there, Volusia felt something rising
within her. It was a sense of resentment. She did not want to rule the Empire
together. She did not want to rule an army together. She did not want to have
the Empire handed to her. Everything in her life thus far she had taken. By force.
By force of will. With her own two hands. Nor did she want the love of a man,
mad or not, or a union to one. She did not want to be loved—not by a man, not
by anyone. And if she wanted love, she would take it for herself.

“You offer is a generous one, my lord,” she
said, turning to him. “But you’re forgetting one thing.”

“And what is that?” he asked.

In one quick motion, Volusia reached back, grabbed
him by the back, and suddenly, unexpectedly, used all her might and threw him,
head-first, off the balcony.

There came a horrified gasp from his thousands
of people, as Maltolis fell through the air, shrieking, flailing, head over
foot, until finally he hit the ground, a hundred feet below, with a smack.

His neck broken instantly, he lay there in a
pool of blood, dead.

“I am the great Goddess Volusia,” she said
proudly, down to his dead body, “and I share power with no one.”

Thorgrin stood facing the King of the Dead, the
Sword of the Dead still dripping blood in his hand, and all the King’s dead creatures
at his feet. Thor felt numb with victory.

The King stood on his throne and looked down at
it all with an amazed expression.

“They said that you would come one day,” the
King said, looking at Thorgrin. “The man who would defeat the darkness. The man
who would wield the sword. The King of the Druids.”

The King looked Thor over carefully, and Thor
did not know how to respond. Could it really be true? Would he one day be King
of the Druids?

“Let me tell you what it means to be a King,”
he continued. “It means to be alone. Utterly alone.”

Thor stared back, his heart still pounding from
battle, beginning to process it all. He looked around and saw with relief that his
men, while wounded, were still alive.

He turned back to the King, remembering.

“You promised to open the gates,” Thor said.
“If I defeated your creatures, you vowed to let us go.”

The King smiled wide, a grotesque image, his
face collapsing in a million folds and wrinkles.

“A King does not always keep his promises,” he
said, laughing, his voice deep, echoing off the walls, the tone of it hurting Thor’s
ears.

Thor stared back, crestfallen. He tightened his
grip on his sword, and was about to respond, when the King continued.

“In this case,” the King said, “I will. But it
is not quite so simple. The Land of the Dead exacts a price. You don’t just
walk out of here. Seven of you entered, and for each exit, there must be a
price. The price you will pay will be seven demons.”

“Seven demons?” Thorgrin asked, not
understanding, but not liking the sound of it.

The King turned, and as he did, a huge secret
door, made of solid stone, slid open in the cave wall. It opened up slowly with
an awful sound of stone scraping stone, revealing spiked iron gates behind it.
Beyond the gates, Thor saw a vast purple sky, the sun setting over an ocean; he
heard the howling of the wind, and felt a cold breeze rush into this place.

“Beyond the gates lies the world above,” the
King said. “You will return to your precious world, but your release will also
release seven demons, free to roam the world. These demons will plague you, each
of them, at some point in place and in some time you’ll never know. You will
receive seven tragedies, one from each demon. When you least expect it. The
tragedies might strike you—or they might strike someone you love. Do you still
want to leave?”

Thor looked at the others, and they stared back
at him with an amazed expression. Thor turned and looked back at the massive
iron gates, each bar two feet thick, glowing red, and he watched seven black
shadows, looking like gargoyles, suddenly appear and fly through the air,
slamming their heads into the gates again and again, as if waiting to be
released.

Thor thought of Guwayne, of Gwendolyn, of all
the people he knew and loved up above; he thought of his brothers who had come
down here for his sake. He knew he had to return, if not for his own sake, then
for everyone else’s. Whatever the cost.

“I accept your price,” Thorgrin said.

The King stared back, expressionless, then finally
nodded. He began to motion to his men to open the gates, but before he did, Thorgrin
stepped up and called out:

“And what about you? You made me a promise. You
vowed that if I defeated your creatures, you would give each of us one request.”

The King studied him.

“Indeed, I did. And what is yours?” he asked.

Thor looked deeply into his eyes, staring back
with all the seriousness he could muster.

“I request that you, King of the Dead, not take
my son. Do not allow Guwayne to die, at least not until I have had a chance to
hold him in my arms, to look into his eyes, to be reunited with him. That is
all I ask.”

The King pondered Thor’s words, then finally nodded.

“Your request shall be granted.”

The King next looked to O’Connor.

“And what is yours?” he asked.

O’Connor replied: “I request to be reunited
with my sister before my death. That you not take her until we’ve seen each
other again.”

The King nodded and turned to Matus.

“I, too, request you do not take my sister
until I have had a chance to see her again.”

Elden stepped forward.

“And I wish to be reunited with my father.”

“And I with my people,” Indra said.

The King turned and looked at the remaining two
Legion brothers: Reece and Conven.

Reece stepped forward solemnly, looked up at
the King, and said: “I request that you release Selese from this place. Let me
take her with me. Release her. Return her to the land of the living.”

The King of the Dead scrutinized Reece.

“Such a request has never been made,” he said.
“A difficult request. If she returns to the land of the living, she cannot be
as she was. For once you’re dead, you can never truly live again.”

“I will give anything,” Reece said, clutching
Selese’s hand.

“Is this your wish, too?” the King asked
Selese.

She nodded, tears falling from her eyes she
gripped Reece’s hand.

“I would give anything to be with Reece again,”
she said.

After a long pause, finally, the King of the Dead
nodded.

“Very well,” he said. “You shall return to the
land of the living. For now. Rest assured we will meet again.”

The King turned to the last of them, Conven,
who stepped forward proudly.

“I request that my brother, too, be released
and allowed to join us in the land of the living.”

The King shook his head gravely.

“That is not possible,” he said.

Conven looked outraged.

“But you allowed Selese to return!” he
protested.

“Selese can return only because her life was
not taken by someone else’s hand. Your brother, though, was murdered. I’m
afraid he cannot return. Not now. Not ever. He will be here for the remainder
of his days.”

Conven’s eyes welled up as he looked to Conval,
then back to the King of the Dead.

“Then I change my request!” Conven called out.
“I request to be allowed to stay here, with my brother!”

Thorgrin gasped, as did the others, horrified.

“Conven, you cannot request such a thing” Thor
said hurriedly, as they all came up to him.

“You must not!” Reece added.

Conven shook off their hands, though, and stepped
up proudly.

“If my brother cannot be free,” he said, “then neither
shall I. I request it again!”

Conval grabbed Conven’s arm.

“Conven,” he said, “don’t do this. We shall be
together again, one day.”

Conven stared back at him, serious, undeterred.

“No, my brother,” he said. “We shall be
together again now.”

The King stared at them long and hard, then finally
said: “A brother’s love is not easily broken. If you wish to be here before
your time, then your wish is granted. You are welcome here.”

The King nodded, and suddenly the massive gate
began to rise. Slowly, higher and higher, it revealed the open air, the blood-red
sky. When it was high enough, the seven demons, looking like shadows, flew out
and into the open sky, letting out a horrific shriek as they did so. They
immediately dissipated in seven different directions.

Thor and the others walked to the edge, looked
out at the world before them, the open twilight sky, the fresh air. He looked
down and saw the ocean spread out before them, heard waves crashing far below.

Beside him was Reece, holding Selese’s hand, along
with the others. He turned and saw behind them Conven, standing there with his
brother, looking back at them sadly; yet at the same time, somehow, finally, Conven
seemed satisfied, seemed to have the peace that had eluded him on earth.

Thor turned and embraced Conven, hugging him tight,
and Conven hugged him back.

One by one, they each embraced Conven, their
eyes welling up, feeling the pain of leaving their Legion brother behind, this
man who had been with them from the very start.

Thor looked him in the eye, clasping his
shoulder.

“One day, we shall be united again,” Thorgrin
said.

Conven nodded.

“Yes we shall,” he replied. “But not, I hope,
one day soon.”

Thor turned and looked out at the open sky, saw
their boat rocking in the waves below, and he knew that soon they would be back
at sea, sailing across the ocean, seeking out Gwendolyn, Guwayne, and all their
people. Soon, they would be united again.

He looked up and as he did, he watched the
seven demons, black shadows in the distance merging with the twilight, spread
out in seven directions, preparing to blanket the world. Finally, they
disappeared from view. Thor heard the last of their screeching, and he
wondered:
What have I unleashed on the world?