Chapter 11

T he wind howled cold and promising of snow on the mountain's high slopes as the line of imperial cars ascended past the barricaded mansions of the Upper Levels towards the palace. Vala nervously clutched her hands as she carefully thought over everything that had happened.

Why had Luiximor tried to rescue her from Sandy's when he, himself, had been the warning? She was his great short , after all. Somehow, her runes were meant to save him during a rare eclipse which was otherwise going to destroy him. Why had he insisted upon retaining his mask when they were alone, and then suddenly revealed his identity on the crowded docks? And why had he been so reserved around her, not attempting to coerce her when he was the emperor? She remembered her demand and flushed. Your mask for a kiss, she had said. He had been toying with her all along , she thought, and the idea made her fearful. What did he want her in the palace and why had he so publicly acknowledged her? She glanced at the guards sitting beside her, each twice her size. No, her escape lay before her. She needed all her wits to survive whatever Luiximor had in store.

Two monstrous, black iron gates loomed before the cavalcade, the palace's main entry. The battlements were simply made, a remnant of the humbler, militant dwelling of prior rulers from many thousands of years ago. Silver flags curled upon the ramparts and horns blared their arrival into the palace courtyard. The limousine's wheels scraped on the pavement and halted as the gates clanged shut behind them. She noticed the Emperor's car drove onward, into the maze of buildings. This was fortunate, she decided. Since their meeting was obviously delayed, she would have more time to think of what she needed to do.

Even so, she felt overwhelmed as she stepped upon the paving stones. She wished Janie and Corina could see the palace. They would be shocked by the splendor. The marble walls shone red and the windows and gilded statues burned as though on fire, caught in the rays of the setting sun, thinly lacing through storm clouds. Multiple stories staggered upwards amid a multitude of windows, linking bridges, and wide porches. Sadness pierced her as she remembered the events of the afternoon. Janie would never be able to see anything again. She was dead and lost forever to the world. Her fists clenched. Luiximor may not have directly killed Janie but the empire did.

She walked upon the paving stones, noting the intricate, spiraling carvings on them, feeling the dim glow of the protective runes that wrapped every inch of the palace as she climbed the wide steps to the grand entrance—a row of gold doors, emblazoned with the history of imperial prowess. An interior porch flanked with guards and thick pillars met her eyes. She hurried up another flight of stairs and then stopped in amazement.

A hall vaulted several stories above her head and stretched away to where a distant throne rose from a gold and iron dais. Chandeliers, the size of cars, shot brilliant waterfalls of light upon the black marble floors. Assorted statues and carved pillars lined the shadows, scattered throughout with sentries in dark livery. She half-expected the emperor to pace from some shadowed area but she was only hurried across the shimmering grandeur, her steps thudding within the echoing gloom.

The guards escorted her into a maze of corridors, each one more splendid than the last, until her head spun with the jumble of exquisite art, mirrors, and statues. Everywhere, gilt filigree crawled like ivy across the walls and hundreds of crystal lights sparkled hotly above their tread. Again and again, she replayed Heep's conversation and recalled the words of Luiximor. He was the emperor and he could crush her with a blast of fire from his palms. A god who sought to use her runes to save himself. She thought of how blindly she had trusted that the Masked Man had been a Dynn Knight who intended her no harm, despite his confusion over her identity. He had simply tried to save her life for the role she must play as his rune short. She wondered if they headed straight to a torture chamber deep within the palace. Surely that was impossible, she thought, for such places were not kept alongside rooms of state.

They halted before a huge door. She entered, hearing the latch click behind her and the guards stomp to attention outside to prevent her escape.

So, she was to be an imprisoned guest. But what prisoner had a cell like this? It was a bedchamber. Yet only a fevered dream of someone long accustomed to the finest things in life could have inspired such extravagance. A great bed lay awash in a pile of lace and downy pillows. The floor and walls were of marble and a large chandelier twinkled golden light through a lattice of cut glass and gemstones. She noted the delicate furniture and velvet armchairs of the private seating area, the sparkling cart topped with crystal wine decanters and gleaming fruit. Those red brocade curtains enclosing massive windows, where beyond, palace rooftops and walls dimly gleamed under the brooding midday sky.

A servant appeared from another door—the hot steam that billowed behind her indicating a bathroom—and curtsied.

A couple of hours later, she stood in front of a mirror and stared at a wholly different person. Those darkened eyelids and red mouth—was that really her? Her hair spilled in a wealth of fiery curls over a dress made of rose-colored silk, a row of pearl buttons fastened over her breasts, and seed pearls shone in flowery clusters upon the voluminous skirts. Her feet, accustomed to sneakers, fit into delicate slippers. The servant gave her satin fingerless gloves that wrapped to her elbows, effectively masking her convict's tattoo. She had given the servant some equi as a thanks for her help. The remainder had gone under the mattress. She had tried to ask her name but the servant remained mute and avoided eye contact although she had taken the money. Vala decided to befriend her somehow, smiling at her whenever possible and helping her with the heavy gown. Servants would know all the hidden stairways and chambers in the palace. She could assist Vala when the time came to escape.

The woman rapped on the bedroom door and the guards appeared. They only beckoned her to follow them. Fear rose within her as she did so.

They ascended a long flight of stairs and she found herself in a plainer area of the palace. Simple furnishings, small, iron-barred windows and stone floors spoke of the design preferences of past emperors. The air felt colder and dull lights provided a yellow, flickering glow. There were also a lot more sentries. Thoughts of a torture chamber ran through her mind but she remembered that she was dressed like a noble and not a prisoner. Even then, her unease built until, after an endless hallway, the guards stopped before a large, iron door. A massive set of bolts would have sealed it shut, but the door lay ajar.

Upon their direction, she entered the room and stood in amazement as a treasury vault spread before her.

The walls were lined with racks of thick, steel cabinets, rearing floor to ceiling, stories above her. Several stone pillars arched throughout the massive room to the distant end, securing additional rows of cabinets between their sturdy supports. Even more items were piled about, outside the confines of the cabinets. A stack of chests lay here, a sculpted crown hung there, statues were tucked in corners and piles of guns and ornate spears tumbled against the walls.

The emperor stood before one of the open cabinets, staring into its dark interior.

He beckoned to her without turning. "You may approach." His voice was firm and yet mild, exactly how she remembered him from the hotel room and Sandy's when he had defended her from Titus. Behind her, the door shut. She was alone…and with him .

The Masked Man. Luiximor.

All she had ever read about gods spoke of their bloodthirsty, cruel natures. They had gone extinct many thousands of years ago from infighting. They were highly territorial and the world, only so large. She remembered the kindness she had felt from him during his moments of disguise as the Masked Man. Perhaps Luiximor was not wholly cruel , she thought. He must have learned human traits of empathy and selflessness. Or, perhaps this was one, big game for his amusement. The prison guards liked to play such games…getting her to feel relaxed around them only to punish her even more severely. Promising her a blanket if she humiliated herself in some way before them. Sometimes she got the blanket. Other times, lashes or a bucket of ice water. It made the torture more enjoyable when she didn't expect the pain.

He must have wondered at her delay for he turned to examine her, a look of remorse on his face. "I sense you fear me. I promise you that your instincts are right. You should be afraid. I am a god," he said, his eyes bright upon her, "I can bring about your death as easily as I breathe. But I do not wish for it. Come."

She approached, footsteps cautious upon the stone floor, to see what had enraptured him.

On a velvet pad inside the cabinet, lay a peculiar object the size of an apple. One she had read about in books, dreamed of, seen flashing and condensing within her mind, hardening the outlines of her equations. Those curving, petal-like sides, sharp and pointed in areas, voluptuously thick in other parts, that hard, gray exterior, part stone and part seashell in texture?—

It was a harvested rune, sliced from its plant in the Dynn and brought into this world.

Luiximor picked up the rune and she noticed his hand clench firmly, as if the rune was extremely heavy. His blue eyes surveyed her with steady calm. "This is a rune. One of yours, actually."

"Mine?" Her knees felt weak. How strange that an object of hers should seem so utterly foreign. Like a family portrait containing faces she did not know. "Can I touch it?"

He held up the rune to his gaze. "Certainly."

She knew that once runes were cut and removed from the Dynn, they turned into lumps of rock and could no longer grow and influence the future. But this was still her rune. Holding up her finger, she stroked the curling shape, marveling at the interior that spiraled into a solid infinity. A deep longing welled to see her living runes in the Dynn, even as she knew it would forever be impossible.

"Do you know what part of you is represented in this rune?" His face lay close to hers and she could feel his silver hair brush upon her skin.

She numbly shook her head, not daring to breathe.

"This is your signature rune." He wrested the rune away from her touch, carefully repositioning it upon the velvet cloth. "I ordered it sliced from the Dynn and brought here for safekeeping. It may be dead but the rune contains information about your other, living runes. The runes of yours that still need to grow for the Noventury, continue to live in the Dynn, guarded by my finest dragons. It was the only way I could keep you and your runes safely hidden from my enemies."

She frowned, remembering Heep's words. You were created for this. A deeper, overwhelming thought cloyed her mind. Whatever dark evil within her that burned her father and mother to death had drawn the emperor to her like a moth to flame and was now being used by him to save his future.

She watched him close the cabinet door. She wanted to hold her rune again, cradle it to her and weep upon its rock surface, but she shoved the thoughts away with bitter annoyance. She thought of her rune equations that she had designed for so many traders. She could never hope for a future where she was her own trader, inserting her signature into the rune equations that would flow round the world's exchanges, changing the future one rune at a time. She sighed, angry that she had ever dared of dreaming to such an extent.

She looked at him to see his gaze, protective and caring, rest upon her. "I show this to you so that you can understand why I need you. The future is bigger than all of us and I am its sole protector. If my enemies have knowledge of your living rune plants, they would create trade strategies to destroy my future."

She gulped as he stepped closer to her, his breath upon her cheek, his hand clasping her chin up to him. His eyes stared into her soul, reading her with that sky-blue gaze.

She wanted to ask more questions about her runes but his finger curled around her chin, lifting her eyes to his steady gaze. Unbidden, memories poured forth into her mind.

The house among the sunflower fields, tucked beside a quiet subsidiary of the Ringold River. Her home burned to ash. Her childhood innocence had been destroyed, replaced by four cement walls, a flickering light, and a stack of rune books. The prison guards who spat and cursed at her, the warden who kicked and smacked her across the floor on whims she could never find a pattern to… She clenched her fists in anger as memories rushed forth. How had his gaze unlocked such terrible moments?

He frowned as if contemplating her with grave concern. "Follow me. There is something else I want to show you."

Luiximor walked further along the cabinets, his silver hair shining like silver under the dull, electric lights. Clutching her arms against the cold, she paced after. He stopped before another cabinet—she could not determine how the rune ordering worked, exactly—and passed his hands before the locks. A flare shot from his fingers, thudding into the door. A heavy clicking sound responded from within, and the door sprung open.

He gestured for her to draw closer. "Come and look at my greatest treasure."

But the velvet interior lay empty.

She stepped back, wary. "I don't understand."

He faced her with an elegance born from ice and darkness. "That cabinet will contain the runes of a future that has yet to unfold. My Noventury. It's two days hence, you realize. The greatest moment in recorded history. With your runes to help me navigate that black hour, I will rule for the next ten thousand years and more."

She felt a spasm of flattery despite her misgivings. He desperately needed her. The most powerful man in the world needed her. Perhaps she had done evil things but she wasn't as useless as she thought. Maybe the curse that prevented her from entering the Dynn—that had killed people—had finally morphed into a practical benefit. She had a purpose.

He smiled, as though reading her thoughts.

"You may wonder why you are here? Would it surprise you to say that I know you from another life, one lived many hundreds of years ago?"

She grinned despite her nervousness. "You already told me you know me," she said, thinking of their meeting in Sandy's.

He frowned. "I have always known you were to save me, not in your past lives but this one. For years, I have sought you across both worlds, here and the Dynn, scouring the heavens for the signs of your rebirth. And then, after I had nearly abandoned all hope, I found you born again, my shadow self…my dark star." His hands gripped her shoulders, gliding down her arms until she found herself drawn closer to him, into his arms and that immortal, beating heart. "Darling, now that I have you here, I will never let you go again. I swear it."

Darling. She understood then. So that was why he mistook her for someone else in Sandy's. He thought she still had her memories of some prior life. A life ostensibly lived with him…where, and her mind flip-flopped at the thought, they had been lovers? She really needed a drink, she thought.

"Guards." He beckoned for the two men who had led her to the vault. He must have seen the sudden fear in her eyes for his face softened. "You're no prisoner. This is for your own protection. My palace is not free of enemies. Please, indulge me and let me keep you safe."

Her head spun. Luiximor saw her as a former lover reborn to save him. He wanted to protect her. He would kill for her and keep the terrors at bay. In her wildest dreams, she could never have imagined such a scenario.

He pressed some unseen button in the wall and returned to her. "I will see you again for a morning repast. Now, go and sleep."

She stepped towards the guards and looked back. The emperor had turned away from her and looked out upon the rows of cabinets, his arms clasped behind his back, like a general surveying a conquered host. She imagined all the sliced runes, memories of past victories, that lay spread before them, and for a moment, her vision blurred with the sheer magnitude of it all. She stood before a living, breathing god who had crafted nine hundred years of imperial history and who had just said they would have breakfast tomorrow as if they were an ordinary couple dining together and catching up on each other's lives. You're way in over your head , she thought to herself. With a deep breath, she followed the guards.

Back along the corridors, they walked. Dim voices and music echoed from hidden rooms as courtiers entertained themselves. The guards moved quickly and she hurried to keep pace with their stride. Thoughts roiled and churned within her mind. What in the name of all the gods was happening? Just five days ago, she had marched into Sandy's on a typical Friday evening to argue rune trades with Exchange workers and down whiskey shots until her memories blurred. Now, she paced through the Imperial palace after leaving the treasury of the emperor. A god who had declared them to be former lovers…who thought she was here to save his future from a "once in ten thousand years" black eclipse.

Life had turned stranger than a dream. Reincarnation was a thing but only the most powerful and clever of people could do so, copying the gods penchant for multiple lives. Besides, the results were unpredictable and so the practice had lessened in popularity over the centuries with a preference placed on extending one's longevity in the Dynn.

Vala grimaced as another thought occurred to her. This strange, stunted life she had lived showed just how unpredictable mortal reincarnation could be. She wondered whatever possessed her former self, if indeed she was reborn, to attempt such a feat. Not that she would ever know.

What would her friends say? Janie always had something wise to share, not that it mattered anymore since she was dead. Heaviness weighed on her heart over the memory. Perhaps, Janie would tell her to grieve later and focus on the problem. As for Corina, the unopened cabinets would be a source of fascination.

She thought of her runes under his protection and felt uneasy. He owned her future. Even if she escaped the palace, he would always be able to locate her physical body since he knew her future from her runes. Her only hope was to persuade Luiximor to release some of her rune plants. Perhaps if he got what he wanted through his ‘great short' on Friday, she could negotiate with him. She grimaced. It was worth the shot and about the only option she had.

She rounded a corner and thudded into a large, unyielding body.

"Damn it all, watch out!"

She staggered back as the guards turned.

The man she had run into appraised her with an amused twitch of his lips. "Well…hello again, little creature ."