Gozan

I have taken my last taste of ahvenrood,” Jazlyn told Gozan while Qoatch looked on.

I know, Gozan replied.

The three of them stood in the tent that Emperor Ulrik had given to Jazlyn for her own private use. Since they landed, Gozan had bided his time, knowing that his human would soon realize she was out of options.

“Did your slights find the other mantics?” she asked.

The Magonian camp is about twelve leagues to the southeast, Gozan said. King Barthel is on a trio of islands nearly that far west of here, building an army.

Emperor Ulrik, on the other hand, had led his people to an expanse of rolling hills. He had ordered his fortress built atop the tallest hill around, which afforded a pleasant view—strategic too, should anyone wish to attack. Unfortunately, the Rurekan masons had little skill with wood, and the building had yet to break ground, despite them having been here nearly two months already.

The young ruler might be able to see an attack coming, but he would have no way to stop anyone once they arrived.

It seemed the wrong season for sieges, though, and the emperor and his Igote had grown lax as the task of learning to build consumed their days. If only Jazlyn had a supply of ahvenrood, it would have been the perfect time to conquer this nation, but she had no more. She had sent Gozan on countless errands to locate more root, and while Gozan had found the camps, he had no way to steal root from such distances—especially not when Magon watched over the Magonians and Dendron guarded King Barthel’s hoard.

“I should have gone to them,” she said. “I still could.”

Even if you survived the long journey, Gozan said, there is little reason to believe you would be well received. King Barthel might be willing to make use of you as one of his sworn servants, but the Magonians would not trust a Tennish priestess anywhere near their ahvenrood stores.

“I am unwilling to give up so much power,” Jazlyn said. “I must consider my choices carefully.”

Gozan barked out a laugh. You have no choices, Great Lady. No good ones, anyway.

“I could leave. Build a home of my own. Live peacefully.”

How? You know less of building than the emperor’s masons and nothing of survival without ahvenrood to assist you.

“There are plenty of brush shelters and pit houses around,” Jazlyn said. “I could live in one of those. And Qoatch would not abandon me.”

I am sure that no matter what, Qoatch will remain loyal. But didn’t you just say you were unwilling to give up your power?

“There is power in freedom.”

You would be old.

“I will be old no matter what,” she snapped.

There is a better way, Gozan said. Why do you continue to deny it?

“I will not speak to you of Dominion. I will never be that desperate.”

If I know you, and I do, Great Lady, you will do what gives you the most power, which means you must choose between Dominion to me or marriage to Emperor Ulrik. I promise you, I am the lesser of two evils.

She stared at him, a vein pulsing over her left eye. “Qoatch,” she said, still glaring at Gozan. “I require your assistance in drafting a marriage agreement.”

“Yes, Great Lady.” The eunuch immediately went to the priestess’s trunk.

Fool, Gozan said. Such an action goes against everything Tenma stands for.

“I am well aware of the cost,” she said.

If you choose this path, I cannot promise to answer your call should you find ahvenrood again.

“I understand,” she said, nose in the air. “You have served me well, Gozan. May you find a mantic worthy of you.”

He bowed to maintain respect in hopes that once she married the emperor and hated it, she would call out to him and beg for Dominion.

Gozan made a show of leaving but instead lingered out of sight. He would not pass up the chance to witness such a deception against the emperor.

Emperor Ulrik Orsona and Priestess Jazlyn of Tenma were wed in a tent surrounded by the highest-ranked Rurekan and Tennish people to have survived the trek across the sea. They were one nation now. Tenma had been absorbed into New Rurekau by a marriage of desperation. Gozan fed off Jazlyn’s horror, eager to see her reap the consequences of her choice in denying a more permanent bond with him. The woman had negotiated hard with the emperor to protect her interests—Gozan had to give her that much. The marriage agreement was so specific, it even included a clause that would allow a female ruler should the couple’s firstborn child be a girl.

And Jazlyn would need a child if she were to keep her hold on the emperor for long. Without the asset of a child, once the vain young man saw Jazlyn’s true self, he would discard her, maybe even have her killed for deceiving him.

Gozan stretched the last of Jazlyn’s magic as far as he could, delighted to aggravate the coming catastrophe. He was able to maintain her appearance long enough for her to conceive, though he wasn’t about to tell her that she had succeeded. He reveled in the degradation she felt in submitting to this man, her husband, time and again. That she felt like a weak female brought Gozan joy. As he fed off her misery, he plotted his final plan, intent on finding as many witnesses as possible; otherwise people might think her an impostor.

Gozan chose Queen Thallah’s ageday celebration to end her charade. While the emperor did not particularly enjoy the company of his great-aunt, he was bored living in such a spare camp, and the idea of a party intrigued him. Gozan enjoyed watching the emperor make plans, and when the special day came and the festivities began, he took on a gaseous form and swam through the crowds of people, blissful in his anticipation. He watched the feasting, the dancing, and the performers who did all they could to entertain the imperial family. When the time came for the emperor to make a speech to honor his great, toad-like aunt, Gozan waited for the perfect moment to end the spell.

“I did not grow up knowing my great-aunt Thallah, Rosârah of Armania,” Ulrik began, standing at the high table, goblet in hand, “but since she came aboard my ship at Bakurah Island, we have spent much time together. She is a wise woman. No matter the stakes that came against us, she remained positive and hopeful for the future. After my mother left me, I was glad to have someone wise to confide in. The rosârah knew of my ardent affection for my now bride, and I credit her for helping our marriage come about. It is partly due to her wisdom and advice that New Rurekau has a queen.”

Applause and cheers rang out, and Jazlyn waved to her people like the good little empress she was now, despite being a traitor to the ideals of the Tennish nation.

Ulrik went on. “I admire and respect my great-aunt for her endless energy and commitment to me and my realm. And so it is with immense honor that I announce to you, Aunt Thallah, that my beautiful bride, Empress Jazlyn, is with child.”

Gasps of delight swept through the crowd. People began to cheer and applaud. Thallah waddled over to embrace the emperor in her stubby arms.

Gozan reeled at the perfection of such timing. Eager to seize the moment, he withdrew every drop of magic left in Jazlyn’s body, absorbing it into himself.

Jazlyn coughed.

No one noticed, as all were still cheering.

She convulsed and clutched her throat, which caught the concerned eyes of some.

Ulrik waved his hands to calm the crowd. “Such an announcement is more of a gift to all of us than to my great-aunt, so to honor her specifically on her ageday, I name her the third guardian over our child.”

Queen Thallah hugged her nephew again, cooing over the very idea.

Someone in the audience screamed, “The empress!”

Murmurs and gasps tore through the crowd as every eye focused on where Jazlyn sat. Her skin bubbled, as if it were boiling. She waved her hands as if trying to catch her balance. She had no control at the moment. The magic was putting everything back where it belonged, and there was much to do on that account.

Ulrik knelt at her side, grabbed her arm. “Jazlyn, beloved, what is happening?”

“My magic,” she croaked. “It is finally gone.”

“But I thought . . .”

Oh, the turmoil on the cocky young emperor’s face as her words sank in. Gozan breathed in the man’s trepidation. Glorious as it was, he knew it was the last he would consume for some time, so he and his swarm languished, not only in the emperor’s emotions, but in the fear, the horror, and the dread of everyone present.

Jet-black hair turned gray. Smooth brown skin wrinkled and sagged. Eyes sank into deep sockets. Lips thinned. Teeth browned. Fingers twisted.

When the transformation finally ended, Jazlyn sat at the high table, looking her true age for the first time in decades.

“What is this?” Ulrik cried. When no answer came from his bride, he stood and repeated his question to Qoatch.

“This is the Great Lady’s true physical form,” the eunuch said. “She has used the last of her ahvenrood.”

The young emperor could not hide his mortification. The bellowing scream that came from his lips filled Gozan with more pleasure than watching the Baretam break apart in the whirlpool.

Thus the bond was severed between High Queen Jazlyn, Empress of Rurekau, and Gozan the Great. He lingered until the horrified crowd calmed and there was little left to feed off of, then left Masi to spy on Jazlyn and set off with his swarm to the southeast.

If Gozan did not find a new human soon, his swarm would abandon him. He faced two options. The choice, while unpleasant, was not difficult. Gozan had no desire to lose his freedom. He would never humble himself beneath another shadir, and if he must attempt a coup, taking over Magon’s domain should be far easier than taking on Dendron. After all, she did say she had a plan to protect herself from Dendron. If Gozan chose the right human, he might be able to steal everything from Magon without her even knowing.

Surely among the Magonians he would find a human to bond with—one who was ambitious, hungry, and unscrupulous. He would start by looking at the two humans who shared Magon. No human would prefer sharing power when they could wield it alone.

Gozan reached into the past and shifted his form to one he had used long ago—one that Magon, when he finally made himself known to her, would recognize and understand what it represented. Gone was the ghoulish form of Gozan. In his place came the likeness of a man, a hulking giant shrouded in armor and weaponry.

Rurek, god of war, had returned.