A Joust of Knights

CHAPTER THIRTY ONE

Volusia sat on her terrace overlooking the coliseum, relieved to be back here, without distraction, after having killed Romulus’s men, and to be able to immerse herself in the games. She was especially excited to watch this fight which, for the first time, kept her on the edge of her seat—it was the one they called “Darius” who fought. He was unlike any of the other gladiators, a brilliant fighter, one who actually survived. She admired his courage—but she admired bloodlust more, and looked forward to watching him getting carved to pieces.

“Goddess,” came a voice.

Volusia spun, in a rage, to see several of her generals standing close by.

“The next person who interrupts me will be thrown into the ring,” she snapped.

A general, nervous, terrified, exchanged a look with another.

“But Goddess, this is urgent—”

Volusia jumped from her seat and faced one of her generals, who stood there, fear across his face. All her other advisors grew quiet with fear as they watched.

“I’ll make you a deal,” she said. “If it is truly urgent, then I shall let you live. But if it is not, and you have interrupted my viewing pleasure for nothing, then I will kill you here and now.”

She gripped his wrist, and he wiped sweat from his forehead, clearly debating. Finally, he spoke:

“It is urgent, Goddess.”

She smiled.

“Very well, then,” she replied. “It is your life to lose.”

He gulped, then said, in a rush:

“I bear news from the streets of Volusia,” he said. “There is a great outcry amongst your citizens. Everywhere, the Volks have spread out, killing and gorging on innocent people. They tear off their heads with their teeth, and suck on their blood. At first, it was just a few—but now they slaughter our people everywhere. They are torturing and killing our people and they have free rein in the streets. What’s more,” he continued, “word arrives from the east: the Knights of the Seven are close, and they bring with them an army greater than all the earth. They say they are seven million men—and they are all approaching the capital.”

Volusia looked at him, her mind racing with a million thoughts, but mostly annoyance at being interrupted from the arena. She released her grip on his wrist, and he stood up straighter, clearly relieved.

“You spoke the truth,” she said. “Your message was urgent. For that, I thank you.”

Then in one swift motion, she drew her dagger and sliced his throat.

He stared back at her, wide-eyed in shock, as he collapsed to the ground, dead at her feet.

She smiled.

“That part about sparing you,” she added. “I changed my mind.”

Volusia felt her body grow hot with a flash of rage as she thought of the Volks, out there gorging on all her citizens. She had given them too much free rein.

“Enough is enough, Goddess,” said Aksan, her trusted advisor and assassin. “The Volks have grown uncontrollable. You cannot control them. They will turn against you, too, eventually. They must be stopped, regardless of whatever powers they wield.”

Volusia had been thinking the same thing.

She grudgingly rose from her seat and marched from her chamber, beginning to take the steps down toward the streets of Volusia.

The Volks, she knew, were the source of all the power she had. She needed them. Yet at the same time, they were an even greater threat to her.

She knew she had no choice. She could not have people around her she could not control—especially sorcerers whose power was greater than hers. Perhaps her advisors had been right all along when they’d advised her not to enter into a pact with the Volks; perhaps there was a reason they had been shunned throughout the Empire.

Volusia, followed by her entourage, marched down the streets of the capital, and as she went, she looked up and in the distance saw hundreds of citizens on their backs, the green Volks on top of them pinning them down, sucking the blood from their throats as their bodies writhed.

Everywhere she looked she saw Volks gorging themselves, slaughtering her people. And there, in the center, beneath a statue of her, was the leader of the Volks, Vokin, gorging on several bodies at once.

Volusia approached him, determined to put an end to this chaos, to expel him and his people. Her heart thumped as she wondered how he would react—she feared it would not be good. Yet she took comfort in the fact that she had all her generals behind her and that they would not dare touch her, a goddess.

Volusia came up to him and stood over him, and as she did, he finally stopped gorging and looked up at her, still snarling, his sharp fangs dripping with blood. He icily recognized Volusia, darkness in his eyes, looking mad to be interrupted.

“And what do you want, Goddess?” he asked, his voice throaty, nearly snarling.

Volusia was furious, not only by his actions, but by his lack of respect.

“I want you to leave,” she commanded. “You will leave my service at once. I expel you from the capital. You will take your men and walk out the gates and never come back again.”

Vokin slowly and menacingly stood and rose to his full height—which was not much—and breathing hard, raspy, he glared back at Volusia. As she watched his eyes shift colors, demonic, for the first time, she felt real fear.

“Will I?” he mocked.

He took a step toward her and as he did, all of the Volk suddenly rushed to his side—while all of her generals nervously drew their swords behind her.

A thick tension hung in the air as the two sides faced off with each other.

“Would you be so brazen as to confront a goddess?” Volusia demanded.

Vokin laughed.

“A goddess?” he echoed. “Whoever said you were one?”

She glared back at him, but she felt real fear rising within her as he took another step closer. She could smell his awful smell even from here.

“No one dismisses the Volks,” he continued. “Not you, not anyone. For the dishonor you have inflicted upon us this day, for the injustice you have served, do you really think there will be no price to pay?”

Volusia stood proudly, feeling the goddess within her taking over. She knew, after all, that she was invincible.

“You will walk away,” she said, “because my powers are greater than yours.”

“Are they?” he replied.

He smiled wide, an awful look that she would recall for the rest of her life, burned into her mind, as he reached up with his long, slimy green fingers and stroked the side of her face.

“And yet, I fear,” he said, “you are not as powerful as you think.”

As he caressed her cheek, Volusia shrieked; she suddenly felt a searing pain course into her cheeks, run along her face, all over her skin. Wherever his fingers had touched, she felt as if her skin were melting away, burning off of her cheekbones.

Volusia sank to her knees and shrieked, feeling in more pain than she could conceive, shocked that she, a goddess, could ever feel such pain.

Vokin laughed as he reached down and held out a small golden looking glass for her to see herself in.

As Volusia looked at her own reflection, her pain worsened: she saw herself, and she wanted to throw up. While half of her face remained beautiful, the other half had become melted, distorted. Her appearance was the scariest thing she had ever seen, and she felt like dying at the sight of herself.

Vokin laughed, a horrific sound.

“Take a long look at yourself, Goddess,” he said. “Once you were famed for your beauty—now you will be famed for being grotesque. Just like us. It is our goodbye present to you. After all, don’t you know that the Volks cannot leave without giving a departing gift?”

He laughed and laughed as he turned and walked away, out the city gates, followed by his army of sorcerers, Volusia’s source of power. And Volusia could do nothing but kneel there, clutching her face, and shrieking to the heavens with the cracking voice of a goddess.