And she came along and wielded
it with one hand. And she used it to kill her father and take his throne.”
Volusia turned to him, her eyes aglow with
history and destiny.
“They said the spear would only be wielded once.
By the Chosen One. They said my mother would live a thousand centuries, that the
throne of Volusia would be hers forever. And do you know what happened? I wielded
the spear myself—and I used it to kill my mother.”
She took a deep breath.
“What does that tell you, Lord Commander?”
He looked at her, confused, and shook his head,
puzzled.
“We can either live in the shadow of other
people’s legends,” Volusia said, “or we can create our own.”
She leaned in close, scowling, glaring back at
him in fury.
“When I have crushed the entire Empire,” she
said, “when everyone in this universe bends their knee to me, when there is not
a single living person left that doesn’t know and scream and cry my name, you
will know then that I am the one and only true leader—and that I am the one and
only true god. I am the Chosen One. Because I have chosen myself.”
CHAPTER TEN
Gwendolyn walked through the village, accompanied
by her brothers Kendrick and Godfrey, and by Sandara, Aberthol, Brandt and
Atme, with hundreds of her people trailing her, as they all were welcomed here.
They were led by Bokbu, the village chief, and Gwen walked beside him, filled with
gratitude as she toured his village. His people had taken them in, had provided
them safe harbor, and the chief had done so at his own risk, against some of his
own people’s will. He had saved them all, had pulled them all back from the
dead. Gwen did not know what they would have done otherwise. They would
probably all be dead at sea.
Gwen also felt a rush of gratitude for Sandara,
who had vouched for them with her people, and who’d had the wisdom to bring
them all here. Gwen looked about, taking in the scene as all the villagers
swarmed them, watching them arrive like things of curiosity, and she felt like
an animal on display. Gwen saw all the small, quaint, modeling clay cottages,
and she saw a proud people, a nation of warriors with kind eyes, watching them.
Clearly, they’d never seen anything like Gwen and her people. Though curious,
they were also guarded. Gwen could not blame them. A lifetime of slavery had
molded them to be cautious.
Gwen noticed all the bonfires being erected
everywhere, and she wondered.
“Why all the fires?” she asked.
“You arrive at an auspicious day,” Bokbu said. “It
is our festival of the dead. A holy night for us, it arrives but once a sun
cycle. We burn fires to honor the gods of the dead, and it is said that on this
night, the gods visit us, and speak to us of what is to come.”
“It is also said that our savior will arrive on
this day,” chimed in a voice.
Gwendolyn looked over to see an older man,
perhaps in his seventies, tall, thin with a somber look to him, walk up beside
them, carrying a long, yellow staff and wearing a yellow cloak.
“May I introduce you to Kalo,” Bokbu said. “Our
oracle.”
Gwen nodded, and he nodded back,
expressionless.
“Your village is beautiful,” Gwendolyn remarked.
“I can see the love of family here.”
The chief smiled.
“You are young for a queen, but wise, gracious.
It is true what they say about you from across the sea. I wish that you and
your people could stay right here, in the village, with us; but you understand,
we must hide you from the prying eyes of the Empire. You will be staying close,
though; that will be your home, there.”
Gwendolyn followed his gaze and looked up and
saw a distant mountain, filled with holes.
“The caves,” he said. “You will be safe there.
The Empire will not look for you there, and you can burn your fires and cook
your food and recover until you’re well.”
“And then?” Kendrick asked, joining them.
Bokbu looked over at him, but before he could
respond, he suddenly came to a
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