Bi-Yearly Update

*glances around* Hmmmmm. I swear I updated last year for Nano……Strange. Well, I was going to pop on here real quick like and post a sneaky sneaky entry with my prologue for the upcoming nano. However, it looks like I will have to rectify the error of the missing nano update from last year.  Hem-hem. So without further ado, here is the prologue from God Empress set in the same universe as To the Gate of Despair:

 

Prologue

The deep darkness of early morning does little to dampen the sweltering heat of the coming day. A breeze, lazy and diffident, moves the warm air across valleys and canyons offering little comfort. Birds stir sluggishly in their nests and animals burrow deeper into the coolness of their earthly homes.

Moving with aching slowness, a group of six men and a single woman brave the tepid atmosphere of the day. They urge their unwilling steeds to walk faster through the valley they traverse. Grey shadows in the absence of the sun, the seven travelers maintain an uneasy silence.

Dry grass crackles loudly under the horses’ shod hooves. Rain is a long forgotten dream that the dry earth no longer remembers. Barren stretches of land pass along the path of the travelers who studiously ignore them. Like all living things, they feel the effect of the drought made more painful following so soon after the last useless war.

“How much longer till we reach Ahmabat?” Calandre, Queen of Haile, turns to her husband questioningly. The long, blonde hair tumbling over the back of her brown cloak and her light blue eyes mark her as an outsider. The men she travels with are dark of hair and eye, their faces dusky making them nearly impossible to distinguish between the shifting shadows around them.

“Less than a mark, my Lady.” Theron, King of Haile, replies quietly. He tightens his gloved hands around his horses reins and peers moodily into the gloom. Deep lines mark the contours of his face but only a touch of gray lightens the darkness of his hair. Though well on in years, the king of Haile remains remarkably youthful.

“I hope the matter is not as urgent as the messenger made it out to be.” Calandre murmurs, almost too softly for the others to hear. “I do not wish to miss Christoph’s birthing day celebration.”

Shrugging irritably, Theron does not reply. There is nothing he can say to ease the queens worries. He remembers how forcibly she insisted to be brought along. She would have to endure the consequences of her actions. Still, though he will not admit to it aloud, the king also hopes the matter to be less dire than has been indicated.

Theron has grown weary through all the long years of fighting with the neighboring kingdoms. Uracca, seat of disorder and chaos, lay to the north and occupies the mind of the king greatly. Small squabbles over the exact placement of the border between their kingdoms have been breaking out more often of late. Theron closes his eyes briefly in prayer to Ladue that the impending war can be averted. More than anything he longs for a lasting peace that his children can enjoy.

“Your Majesty.”

Opening his eyes, Theron looks to his left where a guar

dsman rides. The man is young, hardly older than his oldest child. It fills the king with an unexpected sadness. Too many good men were lost in the last war.

“What is it?” Theron shifts restlessly in his saddle. Despite the warmth in the air he finds a chill crawling unbidden up his spine.

“Up ahead, Your Majesty.”

“Oh.” Calandre exclaims suddenly. “It is finally dawn.”

She points a long, slender arm towards the top of the next hill. A warm, yellow light spills over the edge of the earth. Theron smiles thinly at the sight but feels a slight unease. Something does not seem right. Turning back towards the guardsman, the king stiffens in his saddle.

“Why does the sun also rise from that direction?” Theron asks tersely, pulling his horse to an abrupt halt. He looks to his left then straight ahead. Both directions seem to offer the barest hint of the mornings dawn. The king notes, however, that the vista to his front appears darker somehow, despite the light.

“That is most odd.” Calandre frowns in consternation. “Which is the true sunrise?”

“I believe the sun is rising there.” Theron points towards his left. “We travel south towards Ahmabat which makes that direction east. That is the direction of true dawn.”

“Then what is that, Your Majesty?” One of the other guards asks curiously.

Without a word, Theron digs his heels into the side of his horse which takes off with a surprised grunt. The others cry out behind him but the king puts all other thoughts from his mind. A growing dread is gnawing at his mind. He knows that whatever awaits at the end of that false dawn will not be pleasant. There is something so familiar about the sight of that falsely bright horizon that horrifies him.

Cresting the top of the hill finally, Theron leans back on his horse and the beast slows to a walk. When the reins fall from the kings slack hands, the horse stops, confused. When no other orders are forthcoming from its master, the horse gives a careless toss of its head. The movement pulls the king out of the stunned state he had fallen into.

“By the Gods.” Theron mutters. Hearing the others cautious approach, he turns to the queen. “Do not look, my Lady.”

“What is wrong?” Calandre tries to ease her horse towards the king but two of guardsmen move their own steeds to block her. Frowning, hurt, she allows herself to be stopped.

<span style="b

ackground-color: rgb(128, 128, 128);”> A sudden breeze blows up the hill bringing a wave of heat that draws an instant film of sweat to the faces of the party. Coughing violently, the queen feels tears stinging her eyes with their unwelcome presence. A strange smell invades her nose and flows into her opened mouth.

“What is that smell?” Calandre asks, blinking away the wetness from her eyes and breathing shallowly.

“We need to leave.” Theron growls. “Now.”

“Yes, Your Majesty. It is not safe.”

“But what of Ahmabat?” Calandre protests, her brows wrinkling in confusion.

Turning towards her suddenly, Calandre is taken aback by the haggard look on the kings face. “What has happened?” She whispers.

“Ahmabat. Burns.” Theron uses the instant of the queens shock to grab the reins of her horse. With a determined frown, the king kicks his horse into a startled gallop. The queens horse is forced to follow.

“Wait, Theron!” Calandre shouts over the pounding of the horses hooves. “Wait!”

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“We cannot!” Theron calls back to her. “There is nothing we can do to help them! And Ahmabat did not burn on its own! War has come again to Haile!”

 

 

“What?” Calandre holds desperately to the edge of her saddle. She is glad for a moment that she insisted on wearing a modified riding outfit and using a mans saddle. Then the kings words penetrate the chaos of her mind and she gasps in horror.

 

 

“No! Stop! We must go back!” Desperately, Calandre grabs at her reins.

 

 

Theron holds tight to the leather, his knuckles turning white with the effort, but he slows their mad flight. “Calandre, there is nothing we can do for the people of Ahmabat. They are gone. We must return to Loralis.”

 

 

<span style="background-col

or: rgb(128, 128, 128);”> “No!” Tears fall thickly down Calandre’s flushed face. “No, we must go back. We have to!”

 

“We cannot risk it, Calandre. The enemy might still be lingering.” Theron scans the surrounding area suspiciously. The guardsmen have already drawn their swords and drawn close about the king and queen. Light from the risen sun spills over the edge of the horizon bathing everything in golden hues.

 

“Think of the children.” Theron tells Calandre quietly. “They need us. If anything were to happen to me, do you think Christoph is ready to rule?”

 

 

Sobbing violently, Calandre clutches her saddle weakly. “You don’t… understand. Alistriona…”

 

 

Tensing at the tone of the queen’s voice, Theron reins their horses to a stop. Turning towards Calandre he waits.

 

 

“I should have stopped her. I should have locked her in her room.” Calandre mutters. She will not look at Theron. The heavy weight of his gaze bores into her and she shudders violently in anguished remorse.

 

“Where is my daughter?” Theron reaches over and shakes the queen rapidly. Liquid blue eyes stare back at him almost blindly.

 

“Ahmabat.” Calandre sobs the name. “She is at Ahmabat.”

 

 

“No.” Theron whispers a denial. “That cannot be.”

 

 

Sliding from her saddle, Calandre lets her body fall to the ground. “Forgive me.”

 

“Alistriona.” Theron stares back towards the south, where Ahmabat burns. Silence falls over the party save the heart-broken sobs of the queen.

 

 

 

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