The king stood and looked over his subjects. He lifted his scepter and tapped it on the ground. Then, he and said, “Today, I abdicate the throne.” He paused to allow the commotion to die, and Boulis’s expression brightened. Moldovan held a hand toward Rezkin and said, “This is King Rezkin of Cael, True King of Ashai, First King of Lon Lerésh, Ruler of the Cimmerian Empire.” The room was completely silent, not a creak or shuffle, as everyone stared at Rezkin. Moldovan met Boulis’s startled gaze and said, “He is the legitimate son of King Bordran of Ashai and Princess Lecillia Esyojo of Ferélle. He is my grandson. By right of succession, I name him King Rezkin of Ferélle.”
Moldovan took his seat as the crowd erupted in a roar of support and disapproval. Boulis stepped forward and shouted, “Fraud! The king has lost his mind to age, and this imposter seeks to usurp the throne. There were only two princes of Ashai, and he is neither!”
Rezkin noted that there were more cheers in support of Boulis’s position than rejections.
Moldovan said, “Did you not hear me? A Prince of Ferélle is emperor of three other kingdoms. Esyojo blood, Ferélli blood, rules the Souelian.”
This time, many of Boulis’s former supporters nodded and cheered the king. One man called out, “Long live the Ferélli emperor!” and many others took up his cry.
Boulis shouted, “Do you not think I was prepared for this, Uncle? I knew you would find a way to cheat me of my crown. I will not let the charlatan steal what is rightfully mine!”
He jerked his arm toward the open doorway, and a man sprinted from the hall into the corridor. A moment later, heavy footfalls and clinking armor could be heard growing louder. The royal guardsmen surrounded Moldovan and Rezkin, several imploring the king to seek safety. Soldiers began filling the throne room at the far end while more of Moldovan’s guards filed in from the corridors on either side of the dais, trapping the panicking courtiers between the two forces.
Rezkin turned to Moldovan. “Where is the sword?”
“You think I will tell you now? You will take it and run.”
“It will be difficult to find if you die in this mess you instigated.”
Moldovan grinned at him. “Then, I had best not die.”
After Tinen gave his approval, Rezkin’s companions pushed their way past the royal guards. Rezkin drew Moldovan’s sword and tossed it to Coledon, which seemed to confuse the man, since he was already armed. Rezkin had prepared for Boulis’s refusal to accept the king’s decision by stashing his belongings where they would be more accessible. He reached behind the tapestry that hung at the back of the throne and withdrew his black blade. Then, he donned the mask of Dark Tidings and waded through the guards, descending the steps to stand at the center of the throne room.
In the eerie voice of Dark Tidings, he said, “I will destroy all who stand against me. I am the storm before the calm, and in that calm is death.”
Boulis drew his saber but began backing toward the soldiers as he shouted, “Kill him!”
Rezkin looked over his shoulder to Farson. “They were warned.” Then, he met the charge. With every strike, green lightning crackled within the blade. After the first few fell, Rezkin had to pursue his targets, since few stepped forward to meet him. The others were engaged with the king’s guard, and armed spectators fought on both sides.
A low two-handed swipe took off one soldier’s legs below the knees. Rezkin took the man’s head as he fell and kicked it into the face of another just before he stabbed the man through the gut. Then, two soldiers tried attacking at once. Rezkin ducked the swipe at his head and jumped over the one at his legs. He twisted his body as he landed to kick one of the men in the head so hard the man’s neck snapped. At the same time, he drew his belt knife and stabbed the second in the kidney. Then, he twisted back to bury the black blade in the man’s chest. Dark red blood burbled from the man’s lips to spill over the crackling green lightning. Rezkin kicked the man off the blade, turning just in time to miss a mage attack. Tiny sparkles of light slammed into the body of the falling soldier. The sparkles dug into the man’s skin and then exploded, causing bloody flesh to splatter all over Rezkin.
He turned, seeking the mage who had launched the attack and found Boulis preparing another. Rezkin drew two throwing stars from his coat. Boulis lost his spell as he was forced to deflect the stars. His next spell was sloppy, and he accidentally took the arm of one of his own men in the casting. Rezkin stepped toward Boulis but was stopped short when a thin stream of fire shot past him to take out two of the soldiers beyond. He glanced over to see Mage Threll give him an apologetic smile. He lobbed another star in her direction. Her eyes widened as the star spun toward her, and then it lodged in the eye of the man behind her. He screamed as he grabbed for the star, slicing his hand in the process. Mage Threll turned, thrusting her hand toward him, emitting a blast of power that knocked him off his feet.
Boulis sent another swarm of sparkling explosives in Rezkin’s direction. Rezkin ducked as he raised the black blade, swatting several out of the way, while he snatched a few others out of the air. He looked down at his hand where he held the insubstantial sparks. He could see the tiny spells squirming within them, trying to get out. It was as if they were alive.
Boulis screamed, “You cannot do that! No, it is impossible! What are you?” He pointed at Rezkin as he shouted, “Demon!”
It was not the first time someone had called him that, and he doubted it would be the last, but Rezkin figured he would know if he were a demon. Rezkin threw the sparks back at Boulis, who erected a hasty shield. A soldier threw himself in front of the would-be king, and Rezkin could not imagine how the man had garnered that kind of dedication from anyone. Luckily for the soldier, Boulis’s spell was not as effective against armor, and the man was left with only a small, gaping hole in one cheek.
Rezkin moved to advance on Boulis, but the man continued to back away behind his soldiers. Rezkin forced his way through, cutting down anyone who stood in his way, just as he had promised. When he reached the throne room doorway, Rezkin peered into the corridor. More soldiers lined the way.
Brandt stepped up to his side. “Are they with us or against us?”
“I do not know. They may not know.”
Dark Tidings’s eerie voice echoed through the corridor. “All who stand in my way will die.”
The soldiers stared at him and then the closest turned their gazes to the floor. Rezkin looked down to see that his clothes were dripping with blood into a crimson pool at his feet, and bloody footsteps marked his passage. The black blade continuously crackled with green lightning, and pieces of flesh clung to his form.
“Demon!” shouted Boulis from the other end of the corridor.
The soldiers looked back at Rezkin and hardened their resolve. Then, they attacked. Rezkin waded through them, followed by Brandt, then Farson, Mage Threll, and Coledon, as well as several of the royal guardsmen. Together, they slaughtered every soldier in the corridor. Rezkin led the way through the tower that Boulis had entered. They ran up the stairwell, Rezkin sensing for the use of the talent at every landing. Always, Boulis seemed to be above him, so they kept going. Rezkin was the first through the doorway when they reached the top, and he was immediately inundated by a cloud of explosive sparks. He pulled the short cape from his shoulders and used it to sweep the sparks from the air so they would not strike his companions. He balled the cape around the sparks, hoping that his own will was enough to prevent them from exploding.