Authors: L. M. Roth
Quest For the
Kingdom
Part I
The Legend of
the Great Pearl
By L. M. Roth
Text
Copyright© 2012 L. M. Roth
All Rights
Reserved
Preface
“I heard of a
legend, one I have never forgotten. It was said that there is a great Pearl, a
gem of marvelous and terrible beauty. It was said that it is more costly than
gold, more precious than silver, more glorious than any other jewel to be found
in all the world. And it was said that any one could buy it, but the price of
it cost all that one possessed. Have you ever heard of this Pearl, Marcus?”
“No, Your
Grace, I have never heard of it.”
“I have been
obsessed with the thought of possessing that Pearl since first I heard of it. I
sent messengers far and wide for further news of it, of where it might be
found. But no one could tell me more. Yet I know it exists; of that I am
certain.”
Aurora leaned
toward Marcus, gripping tightly the arms of her throne. Her jade eyes glittered
with a greedy light in their green depths.
“I want that
Pearl, Marcus. I will never rest until I possess it. And I want you to find it
and bring it back to me.”
“But, but…I
would not know how to find it, Your Grace. Indeed, I would not know where to
begin.”
“Why, you just
simply start in the land of Gaudereaux, and go from there. You are a
resourceful young man. Anyone who could escape from the Eirini could surely
find a way to the Pearl.”
“What of my
parents? My journey may be a long one. What of them? How long must they be your
prisoners?”
Aurora lifted
her head slightly and shot Marcus a dazzling smile. Then she laughed a tinkling
laugh like the jingle of silver bells.
“Oh, did I not
make it clear to you? The release of your parents depends upon the success of
your quest. No Pearl, no parents.”
Marcus
struggled for breath. He stared at Aurora blindly, the room spinning around him
once more.
“I want that
Pearl. You go and get it for me. Then we will talk about releasing your parents.
But, Marcus, you bring me that Pearl.”
It was on a
day of birdsong and roses that the world he knew ended forever. The dew still
shimmered on the carpet of green grass. The trilling song of the thrush pierced
his heart with its unbearable sweetness. The scent of roses as light as
gossamer floated to his nostrils on the air, and as he exulted in the promise
of romance they symbolized he dreamed of Tullia.
Marcus leaned
back on an iron bench and breathed in the day. The thrush and his mate soared
past, warbling a duet as they flew, and he smiled as a vision of Tullia rose to
his mind. He had met her only three months ago, yet already he wondered if she
would be his mate, much as the pair of birds whose song enchanted him so.
Tall and
elegant, with a dignity that was much admired among the members of his father’s
generation, as much as her blue-black waves that rippled from her bandeaux, and
azure eyes that rivaled the brilliance of the noon sky provoked excitement
among his own, Marcus cherished her gracious refinement as much as he adored
her beauty. Yes, she would be a wife worthy to bear the name of Maximus!
The June
morning was fresh and cool; a day for rejoicing in the gift of life. Marcus
breathed deeply the heady aroma of the bouquet of roses. The delicate sweetness
of the pink blossoms mingling with the spicy hint of cinnamon that emanated
from the vivid red blooms was borne aloft on the morning breeze.
The garden had
been laid out in meticulous detail in a manner in keeping with the stately
villa whose grounds it graced. Bricked walkways wound through the garden, taking
the stroller from one delightful vista to another. A spray of water leapt from
the lips of the faun in the center of the marble fountain, splashing on the
pool whose drops of water dazzled in the morning light. The sun glazed the
amber and bronze tiles of the floor of the pergola, turning it to a blaze of
golden flame.
But Marcus had
not come to the garden of his father’s estate to idle in the dew-drenched
morning, nor to daydream of delights not yet tasted. No, for he had an
appointment with his close friend Felix.
For as long as
he could remember, Felix had been the brother he had always longed for. With
his quick wit, keen intelligence and a charm that could disarm the most
disapproving of old ladies, Felix could always be depended upon to brighten even
the gloomiest day. Many were the escapades they had shared, many the adventures
they still hoped to savor together.
Their custom
was to meet in the garden of the Maximus estate, then walk together to the
arena, where they engaged in a round of sparring and some sword play before
heading to the baths. This daily practice was vital, for the very life of their
society depended upon the strength of its warriors. At seventeen, Marcus longed
for the day he would see real combat and test his strength against seasoned
warriors.
Valerium was a
mighty empire that ruled most of the known world. What it didn’t dominate, it
sought to subdue. For more than seven hundred years it had lusted for power and
might, bringing all within its grasp under its control. The very name of
Valerium struck terror into the hearts of those who heard it and were not so
fortunate as to be part of its ruling class.
It had been
born when a crafty young statesman named Valerianus had sensed the time was
opportune to overturn the weak, ineffectual king of his day. With a magnetism
that drew others to him and a brilliant mind that perceived all possible angles
of every question, he prevailed on the laboring classes to rise up against the
unfortunate sovereign. Strength to conquer every other nation and rule the
known world was what he promised, and he was true to his word. Within a year of
taking the throne he had forged an army that fearlessly invaded other lands and
brought them to heel. One by one they fell to the power of the army, until Valerium’s
domain was so vast that it would take a man a year on horseback to traverse it
from one end to the other.
Slaves from
every corner of the Empire were brought to its center, to ease the lives of the
aristocrats. Escape from slavery in Valerium was nearly impossible, as was
discovered by those who attempted to flee their bonds. For her Imperial Army
was invincible, and the Imperial Guards mounted constant watch over the
citizenry, both free and slave. From the snow-tipped mountains of Lucerna to the
sun-drenched beaches of Golida the Empire spanned, a realm uneasily inhabited
by slaves both actual and possible, since one’s life depended upon the favor of
its ruler.
Nowhere in all
its vast domain was anyone to be found more ruthless than the Empress Aurora.
As bloodthirsty as she was beautiful, she brooked no challenge from any man.
Those who dared to think she was a weak woman not worthy of her throne soon
found out their mistake.
Marcus
reflected on this as he basked in the glory of the morning. He would not want
to be the one who made the fatal error of underestimating Empress Aurora!
Aurora had
come to Potentus, the capital city of Valerium just four months ago upon the
death of her father, Emperor Beatus, beloved by the Valerian people who mourned
his passing, and dreaded the rule of his vain and tempestuous daughter.
Although she had lived and ruled as Governess representing the Empire for many
years in the province of Gaudereaux, the stories about her in Valerium itself
were legendary.
It was said
that it took little to offend her, and those who did quickly regretted it. Her
temper inspired terror in the bravest of men, and she looked on all women as
rivals for supremacy of beauty, a contest she determined to win.
All of
Potentus was stunned when Aurora’s husband, Liberius, suddenly died only one
week after their return to Potentus, where she quickly assumed her imperial
duties. Yet, the citizens were shocked even more by Aurora’s behavior upon his
death: she did not wear the traditional garb of mourning, nor curtail any of
her social festivities, and displayed no sign of grieving for husband or
father. Speculation was rife, but whispers were stifled, as no one wished to
take up residence in the Imperial dungeons…
Marcus
realized abruptly that the morning was getting on and he was still alone. He
had left the gate in the garden open for Felix. But the minutes passed and he
did not come…
Suddenly,
Marcus was jerked out of his reverie by the sound of metal clanging on metal.
He leapt to his feet and with reflexes sharpened by long training he whipped
out the dagger he always carried in the pocket of his robe.
Into the
garden poured a legion of armed men, tall, erect, and broad of shoulder. Marcus
recognized the black and rose-red livery of the Palace Guards. But what were
they doing here, in the villa of General Valerius Maximus?
“Put down your
dagger,” roared the Captain of the Guard. Lean and bronzed with rippling
muscles earned from many a hard campaign, he looked fierce and ready to kill
any foe who dared to oppose him. Marcus knew he had better obey. But he was not
to be so easily intimidated.
“What do you
want? How dare you enter the Villa Maximus in this manner!” he challenged the
Captain as he drew himself up to his full height with dagger at the ready.
But the guards
were too many. Three of them encircled Marcus. They danced away from his
outthrust dagger, deftly dodging his furious stabs. One side-stepped the dagger
only to be caught with an upper cut to the jaw from Marcus’ right fist. Another
moved to Marcus’ left but found himself flying to the ground as Marcus whirled
around with a well-aimed kick to his rear.
Then one guard
crept up from behind and brought a stunning blow from his spear down on the
crown of Marcus’ head. He sank to the ground and into darkness…