Phoenix Ascendant - eARC by Ryk E Spoor Page B

wells of brilliant blue fire; an eerie, sussurant howl accompanied the vision. “Viedraverion.”
    “Ahh, Your Majesty, I had been expecting your call.”
    Kerlamion’s rumbling, echoing voice, the sound of an endless fall and the destruction of air, held no trace of levity or amusement; it was filled with tightly leashed rage. “You would do well to moderate your tone, Viedraverion. I have tolerated your behavior due to your successes, but I now see a series of failures, and the armies of the Empire and the Dragon both surround my walls.”
    “We knew that turn of events was to happen already, however.” It was still smiling, and the blue-flame eyes narrowed dangerously.
    “ That turn of events, yes, but your plan also included other events—ones that would also have freed other forces to act to assist against this siege. Instead, I have heard a litany of failures!”
    “A litany ? How terrible.”
    The shadowy figure leaned forward, and the unseen lips drew back in a snarl that showed the same deadly glow within the mouth. “Have a care, Viedraverion! Neither your record nor your blood makes you immune to my wrath, and I near the end of my patience! This very moment I felt the fall of Yergoth of the Endless Desert; a short time agone, Balgotha fell and his spirit has not been seen in my halls; no word has come from the Academy, and I have heard stirrings from far Aegeia that things are not all as they should be. Explain yourself, or you shall suffer my anger first!”
    As good a time as any; the King will be most busy from now until at least a few weeks hence…and it seems that a few weeks is all I will need. “Explain myself? Very well, Kerlamion. The explanation, really, is quite simple. I gave you a plan that stood a reasonable chance of success on its own, and allowed you to follow it, as your success—or failure—did not matter at all to me, but keeping you occupied with something did matter. Now, however, I have no more need to waste time with your puerile dreams of conquest, which are—as I expected—coming apart at a rather startling rate.”
    Kerlamion leaned back slowly, glowing eyes narrowing. “You are not insane. Yet these actions would seem to shout of insanity. You say the plan had a reasonable chance of success, yet it is failing almost simultaneously across all of Zarathan. Why would you do this? To weaken me? Are you entertaining a mad belief that you could usurp my throne?”
    It laughed long and loud. “Oh, Lord Kerlamion, I have not the faintest interest in your throne. I said the plan had a good chance of success on its own . But many other factors are involved besides that one plan—most particularly, perhaps, Konstantin Khoros. I think you can lay the blame for the debacle of Skysand and Artania at his door, and perhaps that of Aegeia as well, though I would be unsurprised to discover that the Lady of Wisdom had a hand in it as well; that is, after all, her territory. But I have other, more pressing matters to attend to, matters in which your Hells mean really nothing at all.”
    Kerlamion suddenly stood, glowering down at his own scroll. “You… who are you ?”
    “And now you begin to understand, Kerlamion. A bit slow to realize, but then, I have had some practice in fooling others.”
    “What have you done with my first son?” The King of All Hells clenched his fists, and the air howled in blue agony.
    “I? Found him nigh-dead already, defeated in his mission, humiliated by his own plans, and took what remained for my own purposes. But that was long, long ago, mighty Kerlamion, long before it was reported to you that his task-in-exile was complete.”
    It allowed itself to smile broadly as Kerlamion sagged back into his throne. “You have been playing my own son for four hundred thousand years ?”
    “I have. And you have only suspected now because I have allowed you to.”
    The massive black form bent forward, and the mouth was a blazing slit with jagged fire for fangs.