He stumbled along on unsteady
legs, clutching his dressing gown closed. Two guards slithered behind
him, naga in armor carrying barbed halberds. When he'd summoned his
servants to bear his palanquin to the audience chamber, the naga
guards had gutted them, telling him that he could use his own legs.
Neither of them seemed to care that nobles simply did not walk
anywhere.
So he began the long journey to
the audience chamber, grumbling under his breath about all the
injustices he, Justicar Ralen, was being forced to suffer, and making
note of who would be the ones to repay him.
"What's the wait? Why am I
not being presented to his lordship?" Ralen's voice dripped with
disdain, and he attempted to glare down his nose at his captor. The
elf towered over the justicar, making his indignation a joke.
"You're to wait until
everything's cleaned up." The elf winked at the naga, and one of
the snakemen hissed with laughter.
Ralen sniffed, catching a faint
metallic odor. "What's going on here? What is that smell?"
The naga laughed again,
slithering to the door. He pressed it open, and tortured voices
echoed out into the hall. The elf stepped closer, taking Ralen's arm.
"That's blood." Blanching, the justicar's heart raced as he
was led into the audience chamber.
The amphitheater was completely
different from the last time he'd seen it. It was normally brightly
lit with sunlight streaming through detailed stain glass windows.
Colorful tapestries adorned the wall, and crystal candelabra held oil
lamps. The walls were of rose marble, with arched and vaulted
ceilings, delicate gold veins in the bright rock.
Now it looked like the
antechamber of hell. The windows were busted out, and the smoky night
air came wafting in. Instead of tapestries, bodies and body parts
hung from the hooks, dripping slowly onto the marble floor. The
candelabras were strained with drying blood, lighting the room with a
pinkish light.
Seated on the Grand
Adjudicator's throne was the albino despot. Lord Shalafae,
self-styled emperor and Chaos lord, was dressed all in black silks,
heavily embroidered robes accentuating his lithe frame and milky
skin. His long hair was held back by a moonsilver circlet, and his
crimson eyes gleamed with joy.
The target of his joy was being
dandled on his knee. She looked young, hardly past five, and she was
smiling broadly as Lord Shalafae's hands encircled her waist, tossing
her black braids as she shook her head back and forth. Blood drops
stained one pale cheek, and her eyes squinted closed with her
laughter.
"Who is that?" Ralen
whispered in shock. He could not look away from the child. She was
still soft with baby fat, yet there was something remarkably adult in
her movements and expressions. The lord lifted his hands from her
waist, and lovingly smoothed the girl's hair. The justicar noted the
miniature leather armor she wore, and the small sword on her hip.
"That's Morrigana,"
the elf said. Ralen turned, disbelief riding his features, and the
elf continued. "Lord Shalafae's arstia. His wife and
daughter," he translated when Ralen's frown deepened.
"I had heard she was an
adult, a great warrior." The justicar watched confusedly as the
black-haired girl tossed her head back, peals of laughter ringing as
her supposed father tickled her. It struck Ralen as bizarre that
anyone could be so joyously happy amidst so much slaughter. "No
one said she was a child."
"Morrigana will always be
my child," Lord Shalafae said, meeting Ralen's eyes. The girl
was still giggling, laying against her father's chest, silver eyes
sparkling as she stared at Ralen as well. The justicar found her gaze
disconcerting, and lifted his gaze to Lord Shalafae's piercing red
eyes. He suddenly didn't know which was worse.
Ralen saved himself from having
to decide by bowing his head. "Many pardons, Your Lordship."
The elf moved away, leaving Ralen alone in the middle of the
petitioner's floor. Ralen heard pained moans from the far side of the
room, and glanced over to see one of the smaller galleries shrouded
in the remains of the tapestries. He didn't want to find out what was
beneath them.
"Do you know why we're
here?" The lord's voice was terse, devoid of all the laughter
he'd had for his arstia.
Ralen's jaw tightened, and he
kept his head down. He'd met Alzair Shalafae once before, when the
emperor had first claimed this planet as part of his personal empire.
The justicar had sworn fealty with everyone else, and he'd greeted
the albino during the banquet, and then never dealt with Alzair
again. There would only be one thing the emperor would want. "No,
Your Grace, I do not."
"You're awfully quick with
titles for a dissident." Morrigana's voice was in a childish
range, but the weight behind them was all experience. No one could
mistake her for a kid once she spoke. "Why don't you use the
same adjectives you do in your missives?"
The justicar fell to his knees,
hands out and clasped like a supplicant. "I know not of what My
Lady speaks."
Two little clicks, then a
patter of feet. Ralen dared to look up, and saw Lady Shalafae
approaching him, scowling fiercely. The justicar glanced to the male
Shalafae, and saw only patient curiosity on the man's face. There
would be no appealing to the emperor.
"You don't recall all the
plotting and creeping and innuendos?" The girl stopped a few
paces away from him, and cocked one hip, arms crossed at her waist.
There was something surreal about all the adult movements on a
child's body.
He began trembling then. "Where
is the Grand Adjudicator? By surrender treaty, she is to be present
at all interrogations." He knew it was petty, but he needed
something to buy some time. He quivered, and a line of sweat began to
bead along his spine. Ralen attempted to plot a way out of here.
Morrigana's face lit up, and
she arched a brow. "Oh, you want your Adjudicator? Right now?
Well, let's see what she says." The young-looking woman stomped
toward the shrouded gallery. The moans rose as she approached, and
Ralen swallowed hard, dreading what she was about to show him.
Time froze, and the justicar
became painfully aware of everything. Lord Shalafae was smiling
softly, lounging on the throne, eyes locked on his daughter. The elf
was braced against a column, cleaning his nails with a dirk, ready to
pounce if Ralen tried to flee. The naga were near the door,
undulating slightly as they watched the proceedings. There was no one
else in sight, no guards of the Adjudicator, no other people from the
Shalafae entourage. This was a private audience, staged to drive home
a point.
The little empress grabbed one
edge of the tapestries, and yanked them from their makeshift hangers.
Heavy cloth crumpled to the floor with what sounded like a cacophony
to the justicar. Morrigana stood amidst the piles of cloth, smiling
wickedly, eyes locked on Ralen as he stared awkwardly at the sight
revealed to him.
He didn't know what to call it,
other than a contraption. The Grand Adjudicator, who'd given up her
name and personal identity when she took the title, hung amidst
leather straps and metal lines, all suspended from a rusty metal rig.
Blood was caught in bright pans and funneled off somewhere out of
sight. And there were copious amounts of blood. It was nigh
impossible for him to believe the moaning figure had once been the
chief ruler of their kind.
Someone had removed her hair,
but by fire, not with a knife. Her eyes were swollen shut, one of
them leaking a milky fluid. Bruises lined her arms and shoulders,
with several prominent bite marks at the joints. She dangled from a
harness, the leather straps constricting her chest. Hooks were
tearing at her stomach, pulling skin from muscle, all guided by metal
lines somehow attached to the harness.
Ralen couldn't fathom how the
death machine functioned, only that it was meant to kill. He was
stunned, sickened, and tears flowed down his cheeks. "What have
you done to her?"
Morrigana giggled. The sound
was so much like the peals of a little girl that Ralen looked up. Her
hands were over her mouth, her cheeks flushed, her eyes sparkling,
and she continued to giggle. Ralen began to frown, and the lady let
her laughter die. "I questioned her. She tried to protect you so
much, and refused to answer us, no matter how much evidence we showed
her." Lord Shalafae shifted, touching a pile of papers on the
stand beside him.
"You tortured her for
denying false accusations?" Ralen's voice was shocked, his gorge
rising.
The girl stiffened, reaching
for her little sword. Alzair raised a tapered hand, stopping her even
though she couldn't see it. Ralen met the man's stunning red eyes,
and his heart froze. "Don't bother lying. We had the proof even
before your Adjudicator admitted it. This is more of a-" The
emperor paused. "Technicality," he finally finished.
Ralen jumped to his feet, anger
flaring. "This is exactly why I have been working to undermine
you and your horrid little bitch. You think to impose your Chaos upon
us, to make us bend to your laws, and accept you as our leader. I
will never submit!" He spat on the floor, bristling with anger.
Morrigana charged forward,
drawing her sword. "Stop!" her father roared, rising
swiftly to his feet. The young empress slid to a halt, face curled
into a snarl, hair wild around her face. Her breath hissed passed her
sharp teeth, but she waited for his next command.
"Now, Justicar Ralen, my
daughter is quite protective of my rule. It is, after all, her first
empire." The emperor strode close, laying a loving hand upon her
head. "So when her spies uncovered your little plot, she wanted
to do something about it."
"And you indulged her?"
Ralen trembled, coming to grips with the fact that he was not going
to live through this. "Fiends, both of you."
"Yes, thank you."
Alzair maintained a restraining hand on his daughter. "But we
are fiends who gained control of your planet. Your leader bowed to
us, and bound you all to our cause. You broke your own laws by
conspiring against us." He smiled, ruffling the girl's hair. Her
fierceness faded, and she beamed up at her father. "And it's
your own laws that condemn you. Too easy." The couple smiled,
and Ralen's heart plunged.
Striving to protect his people,
he would be punished by them.
