Fallen One (Book three of Alfireán age)

Prologue

This, however, came with its own consequences. Anytime one of his blood oaths accidentally killed himself with Vackzilian's magic, a magical distortion formed, and large portions of Vackzilian's energy were sucked away as the natural forces scrambled to reach equilibrium.

When he had meticulously laid out his plan, The Emperor had never imagined such fools could exist, but three times this day alone, several of his blood oaths had managed to kill themselves using his magic.

The first one had collapsed a house upon himself as he attempted to form an earthen bench. Sadly, even a blood oath could not survive several tons of rubble landing upon one's head. The second one blew up a target at point-blank range with a fireball just to see what would happen, which, of course, resulted in his death.

And from what Vackzilian could tell, the third one had died while trying to use his Quasar ability, an ability which let its user convert the gasses in the air into a solid object at a moment's notice.

The foolish blood oath had formed a spear to impel some random cow, and from the looks of it, he had shot the spear back into himself instead of the animal.

Then, in his astounding lack of forethought, the imbecile had opened his hand, expanding the spear and causing himself to expire in an inglorious manner.

Vackzilian couldn't imagine how anyone could be so stinking stupid. And now he was paying for their stupidity. The three fools had utterly drained him by killing themselves, and now the Emperor had to figure out a way to restore his energy.

There were several options, but he dismissed all but one out of hand; the rest were too much trouble.

Straightening his royal garb, the Emperor smiled sinisterly as he picked his victim. Vackzilian motioned at his scrying, and an image of one of his more useless underlings came into view. This blood oath had nearly killed himself three times already, and Vackzilian was confident he wouldn't live long enough to mature to his full strength to be harvested later.

"Better to absorb him now than not at all," Vackzilian muttered to himself.

Closing his eyes, he focused on the area next to where the chosen blood oath stood in the scrying. The air popped as wind, and a host of frequencies converged, causing a perfect hologram of himself to form standing beside the blood oath.

Startled, the overly dressed man spun, his embellished robes swooshing and his silken clad feet sending plumes of dust into the air. His eyes widened as he quickly gave a deep bow. "Lord Vackzilian. Why are you here?"

A sinister smile played at the corner of Vackzilian's mouth. "To absorb you," he answered.

The blood oath stumbled back. "What?" he gasped.

"I believe I told you to watch over these miners as they procured the resources we need. Yet here you are playing in the dirt and mere moments away from bringing the entire mine down about your ears," Vackzilian's hologram answered, his eyes flicking meaningfully towards the poorly reinforced ceiling. "As such, I have decided that your energy would best be utilized elsewhere."

***

The old foot soldier's heart had nearly stopped in his chest when he'd heard the sound of thundering and cursing on the other side of the door. Now he stood petrified, too terrified to enter the throne room. But as the minutes ticked by, he knew if he didn't give Vackzilian the messages he had received, his life would be forfeit.

So, steeling himself and taking a deep breath, he pushed open one of the giant mahogany doors only to come face-to-face with Vackzilian himself as the door splashed through a scrying.

The Emperor of all Alfireá's eyes flickered open and stared at him with murderous intent. Then he raised his leather-clad arm into the air and lashed out as if he were giving the soldier a backhanded slap.

The man raised his hands in horror and desperately channeled a shield around himself. Milliseconds later, an invisible object smashed into the right side of his face, ripped him off his feet, and slammed him into the opposite door.

His shield shattered, and like a smashed pile of tinder, the soldier crumpled to the floor as intense pain flooded his body.

"If I lose that energy, I am taking it from you!" Vackzilian hissed, his narrow face twisted in agitation.

For the life of him, the soldier didn't know what Vackzilian was talking about, but he knew his life was in danger. Cradling his broken arm, he scrambled to his knees and bowed low. "I'm sorry, my Lord, but I have two messages."

Suddenly, the air blurred around Vackzilian, and visible, bluish-black strands of energy appeared out of nowhere, flowing into the Emperor.

Vackzilian breathed deeply, letting the power suffuse him. Then as the glow faded away, he turned his attention back to the soldier. "Well, what is it?" he snapped, his yellow eyes burning like volcanic embers.

"The spies you sent to the kingdom of Merinia confirmed there are caves underneath their capital city, but the king himself guards them, and there is no possible access without his permission."

"I see," Vackzilian answered as the otherworldly glow surrounding him faded away. "It appears we will be going to war quite soon."

The soldier's eyes grew wide, and his heart shrank inside him. The Empire hadn't seen war in over three hundred years, and the very thought of such an occurrence filled him with dread.

A barely perceptible smile appeared on Vackzilian's face as he saw his expression. "Ah, yes, I have forgotten that the weak are afraid of conflict. Don't worry. Your Emperor will wipe that pitiful little kingdom off the map."

The soldier swallowed and nodded. That was not what he was worried about, but he dared not voice his opinion.

"You said you had two messages?" the Emperor asked, cutting off his thoughts.

He nodded and swallowed again. "Your blood oaths have made contact with The Fallen One."

This time a full smile spread across Vackzilian's cold, handsome face. "This should be interesting," the Emperor stated and turned his back on him as he walked over to the Imperial throne. "You are dismissed."

The old foot soldier didn't need to be told twice. He scrambled to his feet, pushed open one of the ancient doors, and hurriedly exited the throne room.

Dark times were descending upon the Empire. Alas, a very bleak and foreboding future stood in front of him. The soldier sighed deeply. He wished he'd done what Alec, the former Imperial advisor, had done and made himself scarce when Vackzilian had first appeared.

Now, there was no escape.