Read Online A Rule of Queens (Book #13 in the Sorcerer's Ring) by Morgan Rice - Free Book Online
Authors: Morgan Rice
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her down, as they reached the innermost plaza. She watched as
another vessel was brought forward, and the largest bull she had ever seen was
taken off and led right to her by a dozen men. Each held a thick rope, leading
the beast carefully. This bull was special, procured in the Lower Provinces:
fifteen feet high, with bright red skin, it was a beacon of strength. It was
also filled with fury. It resisted, but the men held it in place as they led it
before her statue.
Volusia heard a sword being drawn, and she
turned and saw Aksan, her personal assassin, standing beside her, holding out
the ceremonial sword. Aksan was the most loyal man she’d ever met, willing to
kill anyone she asked him with just so much as a nod of her head. He was also
sadistic, which was why she liked him, and he had earned her respect many
times. He was one of the few people she allowed to stay close to her side.
Aksan stared back at her, with his sunken,
pockmarked face, his horns visible behind his thick, curly hair.
Volusia reached out and took the long, golden
ceremonial sword, its blade six feet long, and tightened her grip on the hilt
with both hands. A hushed silence fell over her people as she wheeled, raised
it high, and brought it down on the back of bull’s neck with all her might.
The blade, as sharp as could be, as thin as
parchment, sliced right through, and Volusia grinned as she heard the
satisfying sound of sword piercing flesh, felt it cutting all the way through,
and felt its hot blood spraying her face. It gushed everywhere, a huge puddle oozing
onto her feet, and the bull stumbled, headless, and fell at the base of her still-covered
statue. The blood gushed all over the silk and the gold, staining it, as her
people let out a great cheer.
“A great omen, my lady,” Aksan leaned over and said.
The ceremonies had begun. All around her,
trumpets sounded, and hundreds of animals were brought forth, as her officers
began slaughtering them on all sides of her. It would be a long day of
slaughtering and raping and gorging on food and wine—and then doing it all over
again, for another day, and another. Volusia would make sure she joined them,
would take some men and wine for herself, and would slit their throats as a
sacrifice to her idols. She looked forward to a long day of sadism and
brutality.
But first, there was one thing left to do.
The crowd quieted as Volusia ascended the pedestal
at the base of her statue and turned and faced her people. Climbing up on the other
side of her was Koolian, another trusted advisor, a dark sorcerer wearing a
black hood and cloak, with glowing green eyes and a wart-lined face, the
creature who had helped guide her to her own mother’s assassination. It was he,
Koolian, who had advised her to build this statue to herself.
The people stared at her, silent as could be.
She waited, savoring the drama of the moment.
“Great people of Volusia!” she boomed. “I
present to you the statue of your newest and greatest god!”
With a flourish Volusia pulled back the silk
sheet, to a gasp of the crowd.
“Your new goddess, the fifteenth goddess,
Volusia!” Koolian boomed to the people.
The people let out a hushed sound of awe, as
they all looked up at it in wonder. Volusia looked up at the shining golden
statue, twice as high as the others, a perfect model of her. She waited,
nervous, to see how her people would react. It had been centuries since anyone
had introduced a new god, and she was gambling to see if their love for her was
as strong as she needed it to be. She didn’t just need them to love her; she
needed them to worship her.
To her great satisfaction, her people, as one,
all suddenly dropped to their faces, bowing down, worshiping her idol.
“Volusia,” they chanted sacredly, again and
again. “Volusia. Volusia.”
Volusia stood there, arms out wide, breathing
deep, taking it all in. It was enough praise to satisfy any human. Any leader.
Any god.
But it was still not enough
another vessel was brought forward, and the largest bull she had ever seen was
taken off and led right to her by a dozen men. Each held a thick rope, leading
the beast carefully. This bull was special, procured in the Lower Provinces:
fifteen feet high, with bright red skin, it was a beacon of strength. It was
also filled with fury. It resisted, but the men held it in place as they led it
before her statue.
Volusia heard a sword being drawn, and she
turned and saw Aksan, her personal assassin, standing beside her, holding out
the ceremonial sword. Aksan was the most loyal man she’d ever met, willing to
kill anyone she asked him with just so much as a nod of her head. He was also
sadistic, which was why she liked him, and he had earned her respect many
times. He was one of the few people she allowed to stay close to her side.
Aksan stared back at her, with his sunken,
pockmarked face, his horns visible behind his thick, curly hair.
Volusia reached out and took the long, golden
ceremonial sword, its blade six feet long, and tightened her grip on the hilt
with both hands. A hushed silence fell over her people as she wheeled, raised
it high, and brought it down on the back of bull’s neck with all her might.
The blade, as sharp as could be, as thin as
parchment, sliced right through, and Volusia grinned as she heard the
satisfying sound of sword piercing flesh, felt it cutting all the way through,
and felt its hot blood spraying her face. It gushed everywhere, a huge puddle oozing
onto her feet, and the bull stumbled, headless, and fell at the base of her still-covered
statue. The blood gushed all over the silk and the gold, staining it, as her
people let out a great cheer.
“A great omen, my lady,” Aksan leaned over and said.
The ceremonies had begun. All around her,
trumpets sounded, and hundreds of animals were brought forth, as her officers
began slaughtering them on all sides of her. It would be a long day of
slaughtering and raping and gorging on food and wine—and then doing it all over
again, for another day, and another. Volusia would make sure she joined them,
would take some men and wine for herself, and would slit their throats as a
sacrifice to her idols. She looked forward to a long day of sadism and
brutality.
But first, there was one thing left to do.
The crowd quieted as Volusia ascended the pedestal
at the base of her statue and turned and faced her people. Climbing up on the other
side of her was Koolian, another trusted advisor, a dark sorcerer wearing a
black hood and cloak, with glowing green eyes and a wart-lined face, the
creature who had helped guide her to her own mother’s assassination. It was he,
Koolian, who had advised her to build this statue to herself.
The people stared at her, silent as could be.
She waited, savoring the drama of the moment.
“Great people of Volusia!” she boomed. “I
present to you the statue of your newest and greatest god!”
With a flourish Volusia pulled back the silk
sheet, to a gasp of the crowd.
“Your new goddess, the fifteenth goddess,
Volusia!” Koolian boomed to the people.
The people let out a hushed sound of awe, as
they all looked up at it in wonder. Volusia looked up at the shining golden
statue, twice as high as the others, a perfect model of her. She waited,
nervous, to see how her people would react. It had been centuries since anyone
had introduced a new god, and she was gambling to see if their love for her was
as strong as she needed it to be. She didn’t just need them to love her; she
needed them to worship her.
To her great satisfaction, her people, as one,
all suddenly dropped to their faces, bowing down, worshiping her idol.
“Volusia,” they chanted sacredly, again and
again. “Volusia. Volusia.”
Volusia stood there, arms out wide, breathing
deep, taking it all in. It was enough praise to satisfy any human. Any leader.
Any god.
But it was still not enough
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