An Oath of Brothers. Morgan Rice
None of your men will.”
He shook his head, annoyed.
“You are more foolish than I thought,” he said. “I bear the golden scepter. All of our armies will do as I say. Exactly as I say.”
“Will they?” she asked slowly, a smile on her face.
Slowly, Volusia turned and looked through the open-air window, down at the Prince’s body, now being hoisted upon the shoulders of lunatics and bore throughout the city like a martyr.
Her back to him, she cleared her throat and continued.
“I do not doubt, General,” she said, “that your forces are well-trained. Or that they will follow he who wields the scepter. Their fame precedes them. I know, too, that they are vastly greater than mine. And that there is no way to escape from here. But you see, I do not wish to escape. I do not need to.”
He looked back at her, baffled, and Volusia turned and looked out the window, combing the courtyard. In the distance she spotted Koolian, her sorcerer, standing there in the crowd, ignoring all the others and staring only up at her with his glowing green eyes and wart-lined face. He wore his black cloak, unmistakable in the crowd, his arms folded calmly, his pale face looking up at her, partially hidden behind the hood, awaiting her command. He stood there, the only one still and patient and disciplined in this chaotic city.
Volusia gave him a barely discernible nod, and she saw him immediately nod back.
Slowly, Volusia turned, a smile on her face, and faced the general.
“You can hand me the scepter now,” she said, “or I can kill you all and take it for myself.”
He looked back at her, astounded, then shook his head and, for the first time, smiled.
“I know delusional people,” he said. “I served one for years. But you… you are in a class of your own. Very well. If you wish to die that way, then so be it.”
He stepped up and drew his sword.
“I am going to enjoy killing you,” he added. “I wanted to from the moment I saw your face. All that arrogance – it is enough to make a man sick.”
He approached her, and as he did, Volusia turned and suddenly saw Koolian standing in the room beside her.
Koolian turned and stared at him, startled at his sudden appearance out of thin air. He stood there, stumped, clearly not expecting this, and clearly not knowing what to make of him.
Koolian pulled back his black hood and sneered back at him with his grotesque face, too pale, his white eyes, rolling back in his head, and he slowly raised his palms.
As he did, suddenly, the commander and all his men dropped to their knees. They shrieked and raised their hands to their ears.
“Make it stop!” he yelled.
Slowly, blood poured from their ears, and one by one, they dropped to the stone floor, unmoving.
Dead.
Volusia stepped up slowly, calmly, reached down, and grabbed the golden scepter from the commander’s dead hand.
She lifted it high and examined it in the light, admiring the weight of it, the way it glistened. It was a sinister thing.
She smiled wide.
It was even heavier than she had imagined.
Volusia stood just beyond the moat, outside the city walls of Maltolis, her sorcerer, Koolian, her assassin, Aksan, and the commander of her Volusian forces, Soku, behind her, and she looked out at the vast Maltolisian army assembled before her. As far as she could see, the desert plains were filled with Maltolis’s men, two hundred thousand of them, a greater army than she’d ever laid eyes upon. Even for her, it was awe-inspiring.
They stood there patiently, leader-less, all looking to her, Volusia, who stood on a raised dais, facing them. The tension was thick in the air, and Volusia could sense that they were all waiting, pondering, deciding whether to kill her or to serve her.
Volusia looked out at them proudly, feeling her destiny before her, and slowly raised the golden scepter up overhead. She turned slowly, in every direction, so they could all see her, all see the scepter, glistening in the sun.
“MY PEOPLE!” she boomed out. “I am the Goddess Volusia. Your prince is dead. I am the one who bears the scepter now; I am the one you shall follow. Follow me, and you shall gain glory and riches and all your hearts’ desires. Stay here, and you will waste away and die in this place, under the shadow of these walls, under the shadow of a corpse of a leader who never loved you. You served him in madness; you shall serve me in glory, in conquest, and finally have the leader you deserve.”
Volusia raised the scepter higher, looking out at them, meeting their disciplined glances, feeling her destiny. She felt that she was invincible, that nothing could lie in her way, not even these hundreds of thousands of men. She knew that they, like all the world, would bow down to her. She saw it happening in her mind’s eye; after all, she was a goddess. She lived in a realm above men. What choice could they have?
As sure as she envisioned it, there came a slow clanking of armor, and one by one, all of the men before her took a knee, one after the other, a great clang of armor spreading across the desert, as they all knelt down to her.
“VOLUSIA!” they chanted softly, again and again.
“VOLUSIA!”
“VOLUSIA!”
Chapter Four
Godfrey felt the sweat pouring down the back of his neck as he huddled inside the group of slaves, trying not to stick to the middle and not be seen as they wound their way through the streets of Volusia. Another crack cut through the air, and Godfrey screamed out in pain as the tip of a whip lashed his behind. The slave beside him screamed much louder, as the whip was mostly meant for her. It lashed her solidly across the back, and she cried and stumbled forward.
Godfrey reached out and caught her before she collapsed, acting on impulse, knowing he was risking his life in doing so. She steadied herself and turned to him, panic and fear across her face, and as she saw him, her eyes opened wide in surprise. Clearly, she had not expected to see him, a human, light of skin, walking freely beside her, unshackled. Godfrey shook his head quickly and raised a finger to his mouth, praying she’d remain silent. Luckily, she did.
There came another crack of a whip and Godfrey looked over and saw taskmasters working their way up the convoy, mindlessly lashing slaves, clearly just wanting to keep their presence known. As he glanced back, he noticed, right behind him, the panicked faces of Akorth and Fulton, eyes darting about, and beside them, the calm, determined faces of Merek and Ario. Godfrey marveled that these two boys showed more composure and bravery than Akorth and Fulton, two grown, albeit drunk, men.
They marched and marched, and Godfrey sensed they were nearing their destination, wherever that might be. Of course, he could not let them arrive there: he had to make a move soon. He had accomplished his goal, had managed to get inside Volusia – but now he had to break free from this group, before they were all discovered.
Godfrey looked about, and noticed something he took to heart: the taskmasters were now congregating mostly at the front of this convoy of slaves. It made sense, of course. Given that all the slaves were shackled together, there was clearly nowhere they could run, and the taskmasters clearly felt no need to guard the rear. Aside from the lone taskmaster walking up and down the lines lashing them, there was no one to stop them from slipping out through the back of the convoy. They could escape, slip out silently into the streets of Volusia.
Godfrey knew they should act quickly; and yet his heart pounded every time he considered making the bold move. His mind told him to go, and yet his body kept hesitating, never quite working up the courage.
Godfrey still could not believe they were here, that they had really made it inside these walls. It was like a dream – yet a dream that kept getting worse. The buzz from the wine was wearing off, and the more it did, the more he realized what a profoundly bad idea all of this was.
“We