Queen of Fire

I met her gaze, seeing only triumph. Beloved Emperor, I thought. What have you done to us?

 

I sighed and rose, keeping my gaze locked on hers, refusing to look away even as Hevren’s sword blade pressed against my neck. It stopped as the Empress raised a hand. “I will not spare this traitor a trial,” she said. “Our people deserve truth and the observance of law.”

 

“If you intend to kill me,” I said, “then do so, and spare me your farce of a trial. I only ask you first listen to my account of the conflict in the Unified Realm, to be verified by this woman, for it is of grave import to this empire.”

 

It was barely a smile, just a slight curl to her flawless lips, but I saw then a woman experience perhaps the sweetest moment of her life. “Lord Verniers, I have already heard far too much from you.”

 

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER ONE

 

 

Vaelin

 

 

 

 

 

As before, the first thing he noticed was the change in the air, the sulphuric taint of the mountain top replaced by something altogether sweeter. The damp chill was also gone, transformed into the warm caress of sunlight, leavened by the gentle brush of a summer breeze. But this time the sounds were different, no creak of forest branches or birdsong, but the clamour of many hands at work. The ground beneath the memory stone had also changed, carved rock replaced by smooth tiles of freshly hewn marble. Vaelin raised his gaze, finding that they in fact no longer stood atop the mountain but on a raised platform in the centre of a newly risen city.

 

Everywhere men worked amongst scaffolding, hauling ropes or carving stone, teams of tall shaggy-footed draught horses hauled huge wagons laden with blocks of granite and marble. The air was filled with calls and songs as the men worked, the absence of any whip-cracks or chains a clear sign these were not slaves. If anything they all seemed cheerful in their labour. His eyes alighted on the tallest structure, a narrow, rectangular tower near fifty feet high, its walls covered in scaffolding, but he could see the red marble and grey granite beneath. His gaze shifted to another building closer by, the walls in place but the roof not yet complete. It was a sizeable structure, larger than those surrounding it. A mason sat in a sling suspended over the lintel, his chisel leaving a line of symbols in the stone, symbols once ascribed meaning by Brother Harlick: library.

 

“The Fallen City,” he said aloud, a glance at the southern landscape confirming it. The ages might erode a city but not the mountains.

 

“Quite so.” Erlin stood nearby, hands enfolded in his cloak as he regarded a tall figure standing a short way off, head lowered as he read an unfurled scroll. “And the man who built it.”

 

The man lifted his gaze from the scroll, Vaelin moving to view his face, somehow knowing what he would see. He was bearded with a heavy brow, though not so aged and lined as his statue would later depict him, younger even than the painting on the Wolf People’s cave wall. But still there was a gravity to his expression as he surveyed his newborn city, eyes narrowed, occasionally flickering in suppressed frustration.

 

What could he find to dislike in such an achievement? Vaelin wondered, glancing around at the burgeoning elegance on all sides. “He is king of this place?” he asked Erlin.

 

“I doubt such a word had any meaning here.”

 

Vaelin gestured at the toiling workers. “But these men do his bidding.”

 

“And seem happy doing so, don’t you think? I see only what the stone shows me, brother. But I’ve seen nothing that would indicate this man commanded through fear or force of arms. Search the entire city, you won’t find a single sword.”

 

A raised voice caused the bearded man to turn, his teeth suddenly bared in a bright smile as a young woman ran to his side. Once again, Vaelin was unsurprised to note her resemblance to the woman from the cave paintings: green-eyed and dark of hair. She shared a warm embrace with the bearded man, fingers entwining in automatic intimacy as they kissed. She drew back with a laugh, turning and extending her hand, speaking words Vaelin couldn’t fathom, though her tone was rich, joyous even. A narrow-faced young man moved into view, approaching to within a few feet of the couple, smiling a tight, reluctant smile. He was subtly different from the figure depicted in the cave, younger and without the sardonic twist to his mouth, but still recognisable. The woman laughed and reached out to draw him closer, presenting him to the bearded man, who ignored the young man’s hand to enfold him in an embrace.

 

“Brother and sister,” Vaelin realised, his gaze switching between the woman and the young man.

 

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