Vessel

Chapter Fourteen The Emperor

Golden grasses snapped beneath the emperor’s feet. Holding his horse’s reins, he surveyed the plain. Already his soldiers spread throughout the grasses. With expert precision, they sliced the stalks to store for later—he’d been told they made adequate horse feed, though humans could not consume them. Other soldiers scurried behind, establishing rows in which to erect the tents.

Beyond the plain, the land sloped up into a ridge that ran north-south. A few twisty black trees crowned the peak of the nearest hill. Leaving his horse, he strode toward it. His guard followed him.

He nodded to soldiers as they passed, and they paused to bow to him. He heard voices, cheerful, around him. The mood was light—the march was, for now, finished—and they’d camp here until they had collected enough supplies to proceed. He kept his face pleasant to maintain the mood around him, but was grateful when he’d passed the last of the working men and women. His stomach was a hard knot inside him, and his heart thudded fast within his chest. He climbed the hill, and then he stood on top of the ridge.

He was here, the border of the Crescent Empire, the border of the desert.

The emperor gazed across the sands.

Brittle plants pockmarked the sand, bumps of brown and deep green in a spread of tan. Groves of leafless trees huddled in spots closer to the border. But beyond . . . the desert spread and stretched. He felt his hands begin to sweat as he absorbed the enormity of it all.

Far in the distance, the mountains seemed to crack the sky. He fixed his eyes on them. The lake was there. He could feel it deep inside with the kind of certainty that he normally reserved for proven facts. In the middle of this barren wasteland was his people’s best hope for survival.

His two best generals climbed onto the hilltop beside him.

“Hostile,” General Akkon observed.

“It is a wonder that anyone survives such an environment,” General Xevi agreed.

“And it is the source of that wonder that will save us,” the emperor said.

The two generals studied the desert and the outline of the mountains with him. “The desert people will not take kindly to our invasion of their land,” General Xevi said.

“Hence the army,” the emperor said dryly.

“They are rumored to be a highly superstitious people,” the general continued, as if the emperor hadn’t spoken. “To them, those are the forbidden mountains.”

The emperor knew this far better than the general did. But the general never spoke without purpose so the emperor allowed him his speech.

“You must be prepared for resistance,” General Xevi said.

“You think I am not?” the emperor said. “Again, I did bring an army.”

“I think you are young,” General Xevi said bluntly. “And the scouting party has not returned.”

The emperor switched his gaze from the mountains to his two generals. “We have not yet crossed the border. Do you believe that we should turn back? Turn away from the only hope, faint as you may believe it to be, that we have seen for the past three years? Return without the miracle our people need?”

“I believe that your miracle will come with blood,” General Xevi said. “And you must be ready to both spill it and have it be spilled.”

The emperor kept his face impassive, as always. “You believe I am not.”

General Akkon snorted. “You are not.”

The emperor studied the desert again. “I will be,” he said.