A Dream of Mortals

CHAPTER THIRTY

Volusia stood before the immense arched golden doors to the capital, soaring a hundred feet high, the only thing standing between the capital city and the hordes of Empire soldiers waiting to destroy it. She reached up and ran her fingers lightly on the intricate carvings, admiring the handiwork it must have taken. She remembered reading it had taken a hundred men a hundred years to carve these doors of solid gold—doors that had never been penetrated.

“Do not worry, Goddess,” said the commander of her armies, Gibvin. “These gates will hold.”

She turned and faced her entourage of generals and advisors, and marveled that they had no idea of what she was thinking. What they could never understand was that she had seen her destiny. It had come to her in a vision. And she was prepared, no matter what, to fulfill it.

“Do you think I fear but a million men?” she replied, smiling.

He stared back, puzzled.

“Then why have we come out here, Goddess?” asked another advisor.

She surveyed her men coolly, until she was ready to issue the command.

“Open the gates,” she commanded calmly.

Her advisors stared back at her as if she were mad.

“Open them!?” her commander asked.

Her icy glare was her only response, and they knew her well enough by know not to ask twice.

She watched as panic spread across their faces.

“If we open these gates,” Gibvin said, “the army will come rushing in. That is what they are waiting for. Our city will be lost. All our efforts will be lost.”

She shook her head.

“Do not question me,” she replied. “And do not fear for yourselves. After I pass through them you shall close them behind me.”

“Close them behind you?” he repeated. “That would leave you out there alone, facing an army alone. It will mean your death.”

She smiled back ever so slightly.

“You still don’t see,” she said. “I am a goddess—and goddesses cannot die.”

She turned to the men manning the gates, fixed her gaze on them, and her man, fear in their faces, rushed forward and began to turn the massive golden cranks. A creaking filled the air as slowly, the golden doors began to open, one foot at a time.

As they opened, the orange rays of the setting suns burst through, illuminating Volusia, making her look and feel like a true goddess. They were opened just two feet, just enough for her to pass through them.

She walked slowly through them, her shoulders brushing past the edge of the doors, and exited the city, leaving it behind her, stepping out barefoot on the hot sands of the open desert.

Behind her, she could feel the wind of the doors closing, and a moment later, she heard and felt a decisive slam behind her, shaking the ground, the echo of metal. She knew there was no turning back now. Now, she was out here alone for good—and that was what she wanted.

As Volusia took one step after the next, she saw before her the massive Empire army, spread out into all its legions, covering the horizon like ants, all beginning to rouse at the sight of her, all beginning to charge her way.

They charged at full force, a great thunder rising, all bearing down right for her. Joining them were many new legions, dressed in the all-black armor of the Empire, clearly dispatched from the Knights of the Seven, surely the first of the reinforcements that had arrived to bring down the capital.

Volusia smiled. The Knights of the Seven must not have enjoyed her gift very much.

Volusia had watched this morning as all the armies had gathered, as the men of the Seven had joined them. She had seen all of the siege equipment being brought by the Knights of the Seven—the catapults, the battering rams, the entire horizon filled with devices of war meant to destroy the city—and Volusia knew it would only be a matter of time until they did. She was not about to sit back and wait. No, she was never one to defend. She was always one to attack.

Attack she would—even if she had to do it by herself.

Volusia walked fearlessly, one woman—one goddess—against an army. With every step she took, she knew she was walking into her destiny. She felt invincible. She truly felt herself to be a goddess. No one in the world had been able to stop her, just as she’d known from the day she was born. Not even her own mother. She had marched all the way to the Empire capital, and she wasn’t about to stop now. She knew that to have power, one had to seize it—and even more importantly, one had to hold onto it. She did not need other men to fight her wars. She had, she knew, all the power she needed, on her own.

Volusia heard the tremendous thunder, felt the dust already reaching her, as the army bore down on her, now but a few hundred yards away. They charged, the horizon filled with men on massive horses, Razifs, zertas, elephants, carrying every sort of weapon imaginable, emitting fierce battle cries as they raced for their prize. She could see their faces already, see them salivating at the sight, at having a chance to kill the leader out in the open, all by herself. As if it were too good to be true. They all must have, she imagined, assumed she had given up, had come to talk terms, or was committing suicide.

But Volusia had other plans. Better plans.

The army bore down on her, closer and closer, now a hundred yards away, and gaining speed. She heard the great clanking of armor, smelled the sweat, and saw the bloodlust in men’s faces. Some faces showed fear, even though they marched, an entire army, against a woman alone. They, the wise ones, must have known something was different about her, something to be feared, if she were willing to face an army on her own.

Volusia was ready to show them.

She closed her eyes and raised her arms up to the heavens, and slowly raised them higher and higher.

As she did, there came a tremendous humming noise, like a million locusts rising from the earth. It grew louder and louder and louder, and all around Volusia, the desert floor began to crack and burst. First one claw appeared, pulling itself up through a fissure in the earth. Then another.

Then another.

Thousands of small creatures—gargoyles with black wings sprouting behind them—began to pull themselves up from the earth. They had slimy back scales and long sharp fangs and wings that buzzed in a way that would strike terror even in the bravest warrior’s heart. They blinked, summoned from the dead, with their large, glowing orange eyes, eyes filled with a desire for blood.

Volusia raised her hands higher, and her army of undead creatures emerged from the earth and rose into the sky, blackening it as the second suns fell. She directed them, and they rushed forward, and descended, as one, for the army racing to kill her.

The first gargoyle reached the first soldier, opening its jaws, revealing its razor-sharp fangs, and sinking them into the man’s throat, killing him instantly. The first cry of death rose out.

Then another struck.

Then another.

Soon the sky was filled with the screeching of a million black gargoyles, with an endless lust for blood, mixed with the cries of men, falling where they stood. Volusia laughed as she watched. This was the destiny she had seen for herself.

How foolish they had been to think that they alone could kill her. After all, they were only an army.

And she—she was a goddess.