Morgan Rice - A Rule of Queens

Yet still, Darius did not expect the Empire to arrive so quickly, the very next morning. He should have known better: the Empire never waited for vengeance.

Darius raced along the dirt path toward the village center, joining a growing crowd emerging from their cottages, men and women, children, brothers, cousins, friends, all swarming the main road for the village center. It grew thicker by the moment.

At his feet, Darius heard Dray following him, nipping playfully at his heels, always game for whatever excitement the town would bring. Darius wanted to explain to him that this was not a game, but Dray, he knew, would not understand.

As Darius went he scanned the faces desperately for Loti, having a sinking feeling this all had something to do with her, with the Empire, and knowing that she needed him now more than ever. They had made an agreement the day before that if something should happen—anything—the two of them would meet by the large tree before town. As all the villagers ran for the village center, Darius turned off and ran toward the tree, hoping she would be there.

Darius was relieved to see that she was. There she stood, scanning the crowd, clearly looking for him, too, panic written on her face.

He reached her and she rushed into his arms, her eyes red from crying. He could only imagine what a long night she’d had, especially in her disapproving household.

“Darius,” she whispered in his ear, with an intake of breath, and he could hear the relief and the fear in her voice.

“Don’t worry,” he said back. “It’s okay. Whatever is going to happen, it’s okay.”

Trembling, she leaned back and shook her head as she looked into his eyes.

“It is not okay,” she said. “Nothing will ever be okay again. The Empire wants to kill me. They want vengeance. Our own people want to kill me. A price must be paid.”

“Listen to me,” Darius said firmly, taking hold of her shoulders. “Whatever happens today, under any circumstance, do not tell them it was you. Do you understand me? Do not volunteer that you did it.”

She looked at him, unsure.

“But what if—” she began.

He shook his head firmly.

“No,” he said, mustering all the gravity he could. “ Vow to me .”

She looked into his eyes, and as she did, Darius could see them strengthening, slowly gaining resolve. She nodded, and began to stand a bit straighter.

“I vow,” she said softly.

Darius nodded, satisfied, took her hand, and he led her quickly along the path and to the main village.

They rounded the bend, and as they did, Darius saw that his entire village had amassed in the center, as the horn blew once again. As Darius looked up, past their faces, into the breaking light of dawn, his heart dropped at the sight. There, on the horizon, blocking the village road, was a massive Empire force, hundreds of soldiers in full armor. There were rows of zertas, squadrons of soldiers standing before them, wielding all manner of steel weaponry, well-disciplined, standing erect, awaiting the order to kill.

Nothing more needed to be said. Darius looked to his people, and he could see the tension and the fear. His villagers had no real weapons with which to fight back. And it wouldn’t be a real fight anyway, not against this professional army.

Darius braced himself for the inevitable attack that would follow, waiting for the Empire to charge. Instead, there came, oddly, a long, awkward silence. The Empire just stood there, facing them, their banners rippling in the morning wind, as if wanting them to sweat it out.

Finally, an Empire commander stepped forward, out in front of his men, flanked by a dozen soldiers, and faced the villagers.

“Blood has been taken,” he boomed out, “and blood will be paid. Your people have taken one of ours. You have broken the cardinal rule. Our two peoples have lived in harmony with one another, because you, and the generations before you, have lived by the rules. You knew the price for breaking them.”

He paused.

“Blood for blood,” he called out. “Our great Empress, Volusia, the greatest of the Volusia Queens, the God of the East and supreme ruler of the sea and all its ships, has, in her abundant mercy, decided not to kill you all. Instead, she will just have us torture and kill one of you, the perpetrator of this unholy act. She’s giving you this great grace only once, and only because yesterday was the festival of our gods.”

There came a long pause, the only sound that of the rippling of their banners, as the commander let his words sink in.

“Now,” he boomed, “the one who did it, you will step forward, admit your crimes, and you will suffer death on behalf of your people. This generous offer will not be made twice. Step forth now.”

All the villagers stood there, and Darius looked them over, seeing the panic in all their faces. Some of them turned and looked at Loti, as if debating whether to give her up. Darius saw Loti begin to cry, and he could feel her hand trembling in his. He could sense that she was unsure what to do. He could feel her about to step forward, to confess.

And he knew then and there that, whatever the price, it was something his honor would never allow.

Darius turned to her.

“Remember your vow,” he said softly.

Darius, resolved, suddenly stepped forward, taking several paces out before all the others. There came a gasp from his people as he did.

“It was I, Commander!” Darius yelled out, his voice booming in the still morning air.

Darius felt himself trembling inside, but he refused to show it. He was determined to be bigger than his fear, to overcome it. He stood there, chin up, chest out, staring back proudly, defiantly, at the Empire.

“It was I who killed the taskmaster.”

The Empire commander stared back at Darius sternly for a long time, a tall man, with the typical glowing yellow skin, two small horns and red eyes of the Empire race, with the horns, the massive body structure. Darius could see in his eyes a look of respect.

“You have admitted your crimes,” he called out. “That is good. As a gift, I will torture you quickly before I kill you.”

The commander nodded to his men, and there came sound of armor and spurs, as half a dozen soldiers marched forward, surrounding Darius, each grabbing him roughly by the arm and dragging him toward the commander.

Dray snarled and leapt up and sunk his teeth into the calf of one of them, and the soldier cried out as he released his grip on Darius. Dray let out a vicious sound as he tugged, drawing blood, the solider unable to shake his grip.

The soldier reached for his sword, and Darius knew he had to act quick if he wanted to save Dray’s life.

“Dray!” Darius yelled sharply. “Go home! NOW!”

Darius used his fiercest voice, praying Dray would listen, and Dray suddenly released, turned and sprinted off into the crowd.

He just escaped the slash of the soldier, who swung at nothing but air. They all turned and continued dragging Darius away.

“No!” cried a voice.

They all stopped and turned as Loti stepping forth, crying.

“He did not do it! He’s innocent. I did it,” she cried out.

The commander, confused, looked back and forth from her to Darius, wondering whom to believe.

“The words of a woman trying to save her husband,” Darius called out. “Do not believe her!”

The Empire commander looked back and forth, Darius’s heart pounding, hoping, praying the taskmaster would believe him.

“Do you really believe a frail woman could strangle an all-powerful taskmaster?” Darius added.

Finally, the commander broke into a tight smile.

“You insult us,” the commander said to Loti, “if you think our men could be killed by a weak woman such as yourself. If that were the case, then I would kill them myself. Silence your tongue, woman, before I cut it out with my sword.”