The Pinnacle Of Empire (Book 6) (2 page)

“The one with gold butterflies.”

“Just as I suspected myself. Didn’t I tell you the one with gold butterflies was the correct selection, Countess?” Helgamyr turned to Tottiana just as she glanced back, sweeping out the door.

* * *

King Grekenbach accompanied Queen Dagmar on their journey back up the peninsula after the investiture of Emperor Saxthor at Engwaniria. They rode slowly and reminisced about the war, the damages to their respective kingdoms, and plans for reconstruction. Neither of them wanted to touch on the emotional attachment between Saxthor and Dagmar. As they approached Sengenwhapolis, Dagmar noted King Grekenbach’s agitation and knew he felt he must finally broach the tender subject.

“Sengenwhapolis should be visible from that ridge,” Dagmar said, spurring her mount up the slope. Grekenbach followed closely behind; their horses’ hooves clacked on the rocky slopes beneath the mountain peaks. Dagmar reined in her jittery horse at the summit as the panoramic view of the Sengenwhan plain opened up before her. Grekenbach rode up beside her. Her heart jumped. She scanned the plain and the ruins of Sengenwhapolis where fresh, greenish timbers and whiter, newly-chiseled reconstruction stones contrasted on the ancient capital’s lichen-gray shell. The scaring mounds of mass graves beyond the walls dampened her joy. What a bitter-sweet homecoming, she thought.

“Dagmar, we’ve avoided the subject of your relationship with Saxthor long enough. I know you love him. I’m prepared to accept that. But we should discuss that and its effect on our relationship. Our kingdoms must be joined for our peoples’ sake, for their sense of security now that Neuyokkasin and the empire are one.”

“I know you grieve for Queen Nonee as well, Grekenbach,” Dagmar said. “Perhaps we shouldn’t speak of this just yet.”

“We must speak of it, Dagmar. I’ll leave Sengenwha soon, but before I return to Graushdemheimer, I need to know if you’ll marry me.” He patted his horse’s neck as, sensing the tension, it nervously stamped on the stones.

Dagmar watched him for a moment. He didn’t look back at her. “Yes, Grekenbach, I’ll marry you. We both know this to be a marriage of state, but you’re a good man and this will serve our kingdoms well. I’ll be a good wife and queen to both our peoples. I think Sengenwha will appreciate the security of Graushdem’s alliance as well.”

Grekenbach sighed, his face relaxed, and he smiled at his betrothed. He spurred his horse down the slope to Sengenwhapolis. Dagmar followed but slower.

Grekenbach is clearly relieved, she thought, but even my horse seems to reflect reservations. She felt a sudden chill as a gust of wind tossed back her riding cloak. How can I be true to my own feelings when so many others depend on me for their security and prosperity? Royalty has a high price.

* * *

Memlatec and Tournak strolled in the imperial gardens at Ossenkosk several weeks after Saxthor’s coronation. The old wizard’s stride was slow and haphazard despite his watching the gravel walk.

The master wizard seems even older now, Tournak thought. His movements are more reserved… his moods more reflective and resigned. “What troubles you, master? I’ve noted you have a more introspective nature since returning from the war.”

Memlatec stopped to pluck a rosebud from its thorny bush. He sniffed the flower and then frowned, staring at the bud. “The flower’s suggested beauty is premature. There’s no fragrance, and now it will never reach its purpose. Empires are like flowers; they grow strong and promising, flower- briefly dazzling the world- and then crumble into history.”

“Yes, but they do flower and leave the seeds of new generations. Powteros rose from the ruins of the old Occintoc Empire. Now Neuyokkasin is but a bud sprung from the Powteros Empire.”

“This empire, like this flower, will not sow seeds.” The rosebud tumbled from the gnarled fingers where its beauty lay suspended momentarily on the dark earth, a promise not to be.

“You’re too pessimistic, Memlatec. The empire is reborn with our Saxthor on the throne. There is peace, and Dreaddrac’s evil is destroyed.”

“Is it?” the old wizard asked, his voice hollow like his features. He stared into Tournak’s face.

“But you went into the subterranean caverns of the Munattahensenhov’s bowels and closed them yourself after the Dark Lord tumbled into that horrific Well of Souls. Nothing could survive that.”

Memlatec turned to Tournak. “Though the dark wizard’s body is no more, I sense his essence… his evil lives on. It will be focused on vengeance.”

Tournak felt a chill run through his body. Goose pimples sprang up on his arm like mushrooms on a damp fall lawn. “What can we do?”

“We must wait and see if I’m right. We must see what form it takes before we can attempt to deal with it.”

“I hate waiting…”

Memlatec nodded and the two wizards walked on in silence.

* * *

The once domineering Mount Munattahensenhov lay shattered, imploded rubble groaned from deep within the planet’s mantle at the peninsula’s northern tip. An earthquake rumbled, shifting the loose boulders. Steam and smoke seeped from the cracks. A pale green, sulfurous vapor drifted out, rose, then hovered, collecting itself. A thick amorphous fog, it moved off down the smoky slopes, slipping past the now toothless, shivering old hag, Earwig. It hunkered down in a small, bone-strewn cave nearby. When recovered from the escape, it drifted across the Edros Swamp. A reptilefish jumped, snapping at the green haze, falling back into the dark waters beneath the starry sky. The essence shed the sulfurous green tint as it went. By the time it reached the Hador Mountains’ western edge, it was a mere shimmer in the moonlight. The spirit finally settled in a rotting mountain goat carcass on a cliff edge. It was an energy essence without substance yet a being with consciousness bent on revenge. It renewed itself in the bath of decay, absorbing the warped energy as it formulated a plan.

The Tittletot

The perspiring Chatra Boktorian handed Saxthor the report on the two most corrupt imperial ministers convicted beyond doubt of plundering the empire. Saxthor read them carefully, feeling Boktorian fixated on him. 

At such an interdependent court, Saxthor thought, deals have been made and alliances concluded such that most will be tainted by this corruption. Swift and decisive action will stifle further abuses without having to dismantle the entire government and destabilize the shocked empire.

“If our reign and this empire are to prosper together, corruption must be rooted out and ended. We must make clear examples of these two nobles who have so abused the trust of crown and subjects. We must restore honor, stability, and the peoples’ confidence in their government.

The sentences of life without parole for these two ministers must be upheld. These men have ruined countless lives to satisfy their greed. Many of their victims have had their entire savings wiped out. Their chances for any comfort in their old age were obliterated. And there are the children and widows to consider. Crime is bad enough when perpetrated against an individual, but wholesale plundering undermines the lives of all and our very society. These sentences will be less painful than the slow, agonizing deaths these men spread across the land. Their permanent incarceration, confiscation, and sale of all their traceable assets, and dynastic disgrace are demanded by justice. It must be made clear to the nobility, who are the examples for society to follow, that such abuses of power won’t pay and isn’t worth the risk.”

“Does Your Majesty wish to extend the investigations throughout the government?” Boktorian asked. His elevated tone and cracking voice reflected the alarm in his twitching mannerisms. “It may destabilize the entire empire to cast such suspicion on everyone in the government.”

“We’ll issue a decree demanding anyone who has abused power shall return profits to the victims. The treasury and we shall grant amnesty this once. Extend the offer for six months, after which time anyone still found taking bribes or abusing power will suffer the severest of penalties. The swift and dramatic punishment of these two most visible ministers should be enough to staunch the spread of corruption within the imperial government, at least for a while.” Saxthor sighed and signed the papers authorizing the sentences.

As Boktorian was leaving, Princess Tottiana strode into the emperor’s audience chamber, her flowing robes rippling behind her from her pace. “If I’m not intruding upon your time, I should like to discuss your plans for my mother and me,” Tottiana said. Her voice was stern and challenging from a frozen face. She crossed her arms and stared at Saxthor.”

“Your Highness is always welcome, Tottiana.” Saxthor got up and came around the slithering dragon-carved legs of his desk to kiss her hand.

Tottiana kept her arms wrapped tightly around her torso. “We cannot continue like this,” the princess imperial said. “What’s to become of mother and me?”

“I’ve no plans for either of you.”

“Then let me propose again that you and I get married. You love another, yes, I know that, but she’s gone and must marry another as well. Frankly, you need me to legitimize your claim to the throne and keep the nobles compliant. As empress with all the right connections, I would be invaluable.” Her foot was tapping on the floor.

Saxthor went back behind his desk and sat down, mulling over her proposal. I’ve put this off as long as possible, I suppose, he thought. He tapped a letter opener on his leather writing pad while thinking over the proposition. She’s furious at my hesitation. Tottiana began drumming her fingers on her hips; her face reddened.

“Yes, it would be the logical alliance,” Saxthor said.

“Yes, an alliance as you put it. You agree then?”

“Yes, I agree.” He rose and reluctantly started toward the princess to embrace her as he thought he should, but Tottiana turned and headed for the door.

“I shall make the arrangements, announcements, plan the ceremony, etc. There are so many formalities and traditions to observe, you know. You need only set the date, which I expect you’ll make reasonably soon. Mother and I can’t continue to live in Ossenkosk unless you and I are officially engaged and the wedding takes place soon. Without the marriage, it wouldn’t be socially acceptable that we live under the same roof, though the palace has a thousand rooms.”

“I understand. I shall leave all the arrangements to you, even the date, but let me know what you decide so the chatra can work the court calendar around your plans.”

Tottiana puffed up. Her eyes flashed huge then narrowed ominously. “Well, I’ll try not to create a great disturbance in your schedule!” She headed for the door.

Saxthor jumped forward, seeing her anger. “Tottiana, I’m sorry if I offended you in any way. I merely meant to show you my confidence in your ability to manage the marriage formalities.”

Tottiana stopped and spun around. “Manage the formalities… I’m no servant. You’d do well to remember to whom you’re speaking. I’m the daughter of an emperor; the granddaughter of a king, my lineage is far older and more impressive than yours. I’m no servant, and this ‘show’ as you call it is necessary to legitimize
your
position, not mine. You may be emperor, but you’d do well to respect my position in this unwelcome alliance.”

“I don’t seem to say the right things; I’m sorry. I meant no offense.”

Tottiana pinched her lips and swept imperiously from the room without another word, her chin held artificially high.

“Well, this isn’t an auspicious start to my marriage,” Saxthor said to his dog, Delia, who at this point was cowering under the desk. “I wish Bodrin and Tonelia were here. They’d know how to handle this situation.” Watching Saxthor, Delia wagged her tail, but she wouldn’t come out from under the desk.

* * *

Helgamyr looked up as the doors to her suite swung open and Tottiana stormed past the guards. The doors closed behind her. She reached the morning room and flung herself down on the divan. A flood of tears alarmed her mother.

“Whatever’s the matter, Tottiana?” Helgamyr asked. She rushed to her daughter’s side. “Has someone offended you? What can I do to help you? Please, stop crying and tell me what’s happened.”

Tottiana raised her head. She swept back her auburn hair and dried her eyes with her handkerchief then sat up. “That insufferable upstart...”

“Saxthor, I take it,” Helgamyr said. She felt herself stiffen.

“I finally had to propose to
him
! Me, the princess imperial, having to ask
him
to marry
me
! It’s just too much to endure.” She started crying again and Helgamyr held her hand.

“Stop crying, child; we must both endure the unendurable now. We’ve lost the throne and must suffer this intruder until our fortunes are again reversed. Why on earth did you go propose to him?”

“Mother, we can’t go on living here in the palace without the sanction of my marriage. Would you rather we be expelled, quietly removed to some remote hovel in the countryside to live out our lives in anonymity, scorned by all the court?”

“I see your point, my dear.” The dowager looked out the window, seeing not the scenery but the ugly picture her daughter presented.”

“That beast was waiting me out. He made me come to him. Oh, the humiliation of it. I shall never forget this affront. He’ll suffer for this. I’ll find a way.”

Helgamyr walked to the window. It was a harsh, rainy day, confirming the dreary misery that now pervaded the room.  “He killed my husband, has virtually made slaves of us, and now humiliates us too. Yes, he should pay for his cruelty.”

“Oh, Mother, he didn’t kill father. Father brought rebellion on himself with his arrogance, but why must this usurper humiliate me so?”

“He shall pay in due course, my dear.” Helgamyr turned to face her daughter. Her throat tightened, seeing Tottiana so distressed. She stiffened her spine, standing erect, head up, and felt her nails digging into her arms. “For now, we must suffer this usurper. But you’ll be empress and when you have an heir, when the time comes, we’ll again control the empire.”

There was a knock at the door. Tottiana looked to the entrance, quickly dried her eyes, and stuffed her handkerchief into a sleeve. She patted her hair and sat upright as if granting an imperial audience.

“Come in,” Helgamyr said.

The door opened slowly and a strange woman in her early thirties, with dark hair pulled back into a tight bun, entered the room. Her simple dark attire and small unassuming features were most inconspicuous in contrast to the elegant royals she faced. She was extremely reserved, yet her stance had a confidence unusual for a servant.

“Come in, Endaquac,” the dowager said. She turned to face Tottiana. “This is my new maid, Endaquac, my dear. That maid I trusted for years from the provinces, I forget where, ran off. I suppose she thought we’d all be killed when the barbarian entered Engwaniria. Well, good riddance to her.”

“Yes mother, you keep repeating yourself about her flight.”

Endaquac curtsied to the dowager then Tottiana, who studied the middle aged woman for an instant before sliding her hand out for the maid to kiss. Endaquac bowed submissively again and kissed the daughter of her new mistress. “Here’s the shawl you left in the carriage, Majesty.” The maid placed it around her new patroness’ shoulders. She bowed to each lady and withdrew.

“Mother, who is that woman? What do you know about her? I’ve told you before not to engage servants until the chamberlain has done a complete background check on them. Look at that last maid; what a disaster that one turned out to be, running off without a word like that. She probably stole half the crown jewels and is nowhere to be found now.”

“Nonsense, my dear. Endaquac will do nicely. Who can blame the last maid for fearing the worst? When she heard our beloved Engwan was slaughtered like a sheep and that this new barbarian was marching on Engwaniria with who knew what intensions, she panicked. She couldn’t be expected to show courage and resolve in the face of such uncertainty. She was just a servant.”

Tottiana shook her head, gathered her gown about her, and kissed her mother on the cheek. The dowager noted she was no longer shaking. Her countenance was hard as stone as she turned to the door. “I must begin planning for this wedding.” Tottiana sneered, her voice a near hiss.

“I’ll help you, my dear.”                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                     

“Don’t trouble yourself, Mother, I can handle it. I’ll call upon you as I need your assistance and guidance, of course.” With that placating response, she swept out the door, her backbone rigid.

“I just hope you can handle that barbarian,” Helgamyr mumbled. She straightened her shawl and gown and went back to the embroidery she was stitching when interrupted. She looked up at the door and shook her head again. “Now where is my maid? Endaquac, where are you?”

“Here, Your Majesty,” the new maid said, coming into the room and closing the door.

“Endaquac, you must stay close by me. I can’t be searching for my servants all the time. Now, go to the sitting room and bring me more of this scarlet thread.”

“As Your Majesty commands.”

Endaquac returned with the thread then sat in the corner shadows, embroidering tiny stitches of a scene on what appeared to be a coarse cloth.

* * *

Rested and restored in the Hador mountain shadows, the foul energy moved by night down the peninsula’s eastern side. It stopped at graveyards, battlefields, and such places where sorrow, pain, and suffering festered, emitting energy synchronized and resonated to the dark soul’s existence. As it passed, agony intensified among those nearby then left them drained. Yet none saw the noxious energy unless its ripple caught the moonlight at just the right angle for an instant. Even then none recognized what they saw in that moment except ghouls especially sensitive to that particular energy. They fled the pain emitted from it. 

As the evil crossed the Talok Mountains into Neuyokkasin’s Talok province, King Mendentak and the dowager Queen Merritak of the hidden Talok-Tak elfin kingdom picked up on the approaching dark energy.

“The thing isn’t dead,” Mendentak said to his mother.

“Memlatec said he destroyed the Dard Lord,” Merritak responded. “I feared no living being can destroy evil, just diminish it. It’s always waiting for pain and suffering to renew it. The thing waits for greed, envy, and selfishness to nurture it and grow once again.”