MAGE-IMPERATOR JORA’H
It was a rare day on Ildira when all seven suns shone high in the sky at the same time, filling the air with dazzling, pure light. But Jora’h knew there was a darkness out there beyond those suns … and also, he feared, a darkness inside himself, a darkness inside the Ildiran race.
On a high deck of the Prism Palace’s tallest minaret, the Mage-Imperator sat surrounded by busy attender kithmen who plumped cushions and brought unnecessary refreshments. They arranged exotic flowers, erected awnings, strung colorful ribbons. Service was an attender’s purpose in life, and, as their Mage-Imperator, Jora’h had to let them serve him.
Brawny guard kithmen encircled the solar deck, ready against any outside threat, but also looking warily at one another in case shadows boiled up inside one of them. The guards had all been commanded to protect Prime Designate Daro’h with as much vehemence as they would protect the Mage-Imperator.
Now, Daro’h joined his father in the bright light so they could both absorb the purifying sunshine. In times of peace, a Prime Designate would have decades of a blissful hedonistic life, enjoying the pleasures of his status before he was forced to become Mage-Imperator. With the unexpected threat of the Shana Rei, though, Daro’h was forced to carry a greater weight than he had anticipated. The Prime Designate seemed edgy and intimidated, just as the guards were tense and wary. Jora’h understood why.
They were all concerned about the same man—a ticking time bomb in their midst.
The mad Designate finally arrived, stepping through a crystalline arch at the top of the minaret. Daro’h flinched, and his skin paled; Jora’h sat straighter in his regal chair, and showed no fear.
Rusa’h was gaunt, but appeared as hard and straight as an iron rod. The guards held their weapons ready, but the man ignored them. He stepped up to the Mage-Imperator and the Prime Designate and faced them for a long moment before placing a fist to his sternum in the traditional sign of respect. It seemed almost a lazy gesture for him. “Liege, there are important matters we must discuss. We both know it.”
Oblivious to the tension between these men, attender kithmen offered Rusa’h the same array of colorful refreshments, which he also ignored.
Jora’h drew out the tense silence as he faced the man who had sought to destroy the Ildiran Empire, the man who had set Mijistra aflame. “Sit down,” the Mage-Imperator said.
Rusa’h obeyed. He let out a disappointed sound. “We have all heard the news of Ulio Station, and there are probably other Shana Rei attacks we do not know about. They will continue to destroy us.” He held his words, then said, “I see that I must remind you of history and of your obligation.”
“I need no reminders from you, Rusa’h.”
“And yet, you compel me to speak. I saw the destruction our enemies inflicted at the Hiltos shrine. We have received reports from the green priest about what Adar Zan’nh discovered at the Onthos home system. What would prevent the shadows from englobing Ildira the way they exterminated that system? We cannot fight the Shana Rei with our current capabilities, any more than the Ildiran Empire could defeat them the last time they preyed upon us. Not alone.”
The Mage-Imperator said, “We are not helpless. We have laser cannons. We have sun bombs. We have our alliance with the Confederation Defense Forces, and they have promised to provide even more powerful sun bombs.”
“Insignificant and insufficient,” Rusa’h said. “You know it, brother. Liege. In ancient times, Mage-Imperator Xiba’h also understood the stakes. He made a terrible, difficult choice—and saved the Empire.”
Prime Designate Daro’h frowned. “Mage-Imperator Xiba’h? Is he the one who—?”
Jora’h kept his gaze locked with his half-brother’s. “That is not an acceptable alternative. And the faeros are not acceptable allies. Osira’h and Rod’h already tried to convince them. They will not fight with us. They are afraid of the Shana Rei.”
“A Mage-Imperator should not be afraid to pay a price to save his people!”
Jora’h did not respond with anger, but kept his voice cool. “It is not the immolation that I fear. It is the alliance with the faeros, who have already proved to be nearly as destructive as the Shana Rei.”
The mad Designate was not swayed. “And what about the shadows inside all of us? Ildiran sun bombs and laser cannons have no effect on that.”
Jora’h suspected the insidious darkness had woven its way through the thism strands that connected to him. Perhaps the only way to cleanse that was with fire and light. If he did set himself aflame in a spectacular bonfire, his agony might be sufficient to wrench the attention of the faeros. Could that in itself be enough to purge the shadows from the Ildiran race?
Probably not.
And there was no guarantee the faeros would help the Empire, rather than destroy it.
Even as he sat on top of the Prism Palace drenched in bright sunlight, Jora’h still felt—or imagined?—the shadow inside him. Maybe one day he would be driven to sufficient despair that he would be willing to do anything, take any chance, to cleanse that darkness.
But not today …