Liya followed her father nervously down the corridor. Six guards marched awkwardly behind her.
“Daddy, I … I’m not allowed down here”, she said, half peering with curiosity, half trying to avert her eyes which she imagined might keep her safe from breaking the rules.
“Nonsense. Someday you shall rule, and you will be one of the greatest, just like me, but not!… without an education”, said her father, his long, emerald green satin cloak creating a gulf of uncertainty between them as they walked.
“What about Doyen Jang? Won’t she be angry?”.
“Sweet girl. Jang will do as she’s told”, he said, turning to her with a huge smile. “Today, I am your teacher, and it is long past time to meet the family. Come. In there”, he said, pointing to a large dark stone door. It seemed full of danger to the little girl, but her father put his hand on her shoulder and gently nudged her towards the door. She took a nervous step towards it, feeling the void engulf her as she stepped towards it. She was surprised by her own confident-seeming steps, belying the feeling of trolls-under-a-bridge that was building inside her. She reached it, and when she cautiously touched the stone, the shade of darkness swirled away like she’d pushed through a cloud of smoke and a strange pattern of different coloured squares that filled the stone door and swirled around before settling into an image of herself, like a mosaic mirror. The mosaic mimicked her movements and Liya played with it for a few moments, waving, pulling faces and bending her torso to the left and right, before looking round momentarily at her father with a huge smile on her face.
“Push it again”, he said with a different smile in his voice. She did so and pushed against her own hand image in the door which felt like a hundred little square stones, and her reflection froze before the door rotated up to the left into the ceiling, revealing a long passageway which was already lit by greenflame torches. The Emperor motioned to the guards. “Wait here.”
“Sire, I… am yours to command”, Jarrett replied hesitantly, hoping the Emperor hadn’t noticed. He had, and turned to him and clapped him on the shoulder.
“Jarrett, how many times… I know it’s difficult for you, but there is no danger to me in Vaathu’s Chamber. The only other entrance is known to me, and my late father and grandmother. Besides”, he said, unpinning his cloak to drop on the floor and turning back to look Liya in the eyes, “Only blood may enter. Others would be eviscerated on the threshold. Princess Aathaliya Valdragon! Forward into darkness”. Something even more nervous poked at the back of her mind, but somehow his voice, loud, and commanding, like he was making a royal decree at court spurred her on. She stepped into the hallway, and immediately she felt a strange sensation come over her. A sombre feeling, like she’d entered a secret, which she had of course, but more like she’d stepped out of the world. Something like the safety and privacy of her own bedchamber, where she was queen of her own kingdom, but even more so. In all her life, she’d never felt this before. She gingerly stepped forward. The mosaic-door rotated back into place behind them, now the dull dark stone it had been, and the sconce on either side of the wall beside them brightened. She looked and saw an image of a man’s face, strong with intent, formed from hundreds of stone squares on the wall to the left.
“This is Jorvath Valdragon”, her father said, looking with her. “The founder of this great city. No doubt, a city was here already, but he used it as his seat of power, laying the foundations to the Empire. Arguably the most important player of our family history. Turn.”
She looked on the opposite wall and saw a much larger mosaic of a bright gold creature, looking something like a giant spider, but with clawed forearms. Liya was reminded of Arkay.
“This is Vaathu, an earth dragon. They are as rare as they come, but for her own reasons she assisted Jorvath and his descendants for five generations. She built this palace and created this very chamber we are in, including the soulstone door.” She looked up at him as he spoke, noticing something in his voice and saw his eyes lingered on the dragon with something she didn’t recognise for a while.
He led her down the corridor, which twisted and turned gradually leading downwards, naming each face on the left, giving description of their actions where they fought which king, expanded their holdings in which area, and then described each companion dragon on the opposing wall and in which way they had helped or in some cases hindered the advance of the Empire. Liya tried to commit it all to memory but there were over 30 faces, and they walked and discussed them without recess. Eventually they came to the end, where his own face was on the wall. He looked a little younger and leaner looking than she knew him, but it was him for sure, the mosaic had captured the sparkle of steely curiosity in his eyes.
“But what about mummy? She’s not even on the wall!”, Liya said, looking back and forth for her.
“Leisanne is not a Valdragon, child, haven’t you been listening? Only our blood appears on this wall. When I am gone, your face will appear next to mine, just as mine appeared next to my father’s when I ascended the throne.”
She looked at the empty space on the wall opposite his mosaic.
“But what about Lady Lakshmi? Isn’t she a companion?”, she asked. He chuckled.
“What a smart young lady you are. Yes, you will make a fine Empress. Empress Aathaliya the second. I like it.” He smiled pure warmth and pride at her. “I ascended the throne on my own strength, there had been no companion dragon for three generations. Lady Lakshmi has entered the royal court since then, and a fine companion she has been. No doubt opposite your face will be Arkay. The first honey dragon on these walls. An honour for us. And for him.”
They continued down the corridor and down several sets of steps passing several more soulstone doors. As they continued walking, her father spoke of the duties of an Emperor, of justice, of kindness, and of strength. The first two, he told her, balanced one another, but the third was the most important because they could not be maintained without it. Her brow furrowed like a ploughed field.
The castle was sleeping, but the emperor woke suddenly in the dark. The silk hangings of his royal chamber fluttered with the warm sea air flowing in through the window. Leisanne was nowhere to be seen. He called out to her.
“No, dear. She is gone”, said a sinister female voice from the shadows. He leaped up immediately towards the dressing table for the dagger simultaneously realising it was a cataclysmic mistake, having already gifted it to his daughter. He looked to the wall where the crossed swords should have been.
“Looking for these?”, said the voice looming out of the dark. She stepped forward, swinging the blades in either hand. She was wearing a red robe with temple-dragons, and her eyes were storms, intent written all over them.
“Guards!”, he yelled. The woman chuckled vindictively, a cat imposing its power on the mouse between its claws.
“Lakshmi?”, he said, taking a step away from his assassin.
“Summoned to the spire, of course”, she said, her fierce eyes intent, circling him as he moved, the blades still swinging with menace. He glanced at the window. “Go on, make it easier.”
“The princess?”, he enquired hoarsely, dreading the answer and taking another step.
“Asleep. Soon not to wake”, she said, almost motionlessly moving towards him like a wolf. Rage poured into him but the sound of the blades slicing through the air stopped him from making the fatal mistake he wanted to.
“Stop. Have you ever killed an emperor? I think not. There is ceremony. You can’t kill one in his pyjamas.” He said, not taking his eyes off her and slowly bending to pick up his cloak.
“You? Dress yourself? Do you even know how?”, she mocked. “I think not. The string is severed.” She lurched forward towards him. He parried with the cloak and simultaneously jumped back, but not quite in enough time, his weight slowed him against the agility of the woman. The blade sliced through the cloak like butter and gashed his arm. The assassin moved quickly and moved to strike again and he twisted away, but she hit home again, stabbing him deeply in the shoulder. He bellowed in pain and anger, and with his back pressed against the side of the window, he kicked her backwards before half-jumping, half falling out.
“LIIIIIYAAAAAAA!”, he bellowed as he fell fifty feet before bouncing on jagged rocks and falling another two hundred feet into the sea and unseen rocks below.
“So ends the Valdragon dynasty. The string is severed”, said the woman, spitting out of the window after him.
