A Joust of Knights (Book #16 in the Sorcerer's Ring) Read Online Free PDF

Men and women and children filled the
streets, shoulder to shoulder, all bowing down, and she felt she deserved it. It
had been a long, hard march to get here, but she had marched all the way to the
capital, had managed to take it, to destroy the Empire armies that had opposed
her. Now, finally, the capital was hers.
    The Empire was hers.
    Of course, her advisors thought
otherwise, but Volusia did not care much what they thought. She was, she knew,
invincible, somewhere between heaven and earth, and no power of this world
could destroy her. Not only did she cower in fear—but rather, she knew this was
just the beginning. She wanted more power, still. She planned to visit every
horn and spike of the Empire and crush all those who opposed her, who would not
accept her unilateral power. She would amass a greater and greater army, until every
corner of the Empire subjugated itself to her.
    Ready to start the day, Volusia slowly
descended her dais, taking one golden step after the next. She reached out with
her hands, and as they all rushed forward, her palms touched their palms, a
throng of worshipers embracing her as their own, a living goddess amongst them.
Some worshippers, weeping, fell to their faces as she went, and scores more
formed a human bridge at the bottom, eager for her to walk over them. She did,
stepping on the soft flesh of their backs.
    Finally, she had her flock. And now it
was time to go to war.
    *
    Volusia stood high on the ramparts
surrounding the Empire capital, peering out into the desert sky with a heightened
sense of destiny. She saw nothing but headless corpses, all of the men she had
killed—and a sky of vultures, screeching, swooping, picking away at their
flesh. Outside these walls there was a light breeze, and she could already
smell the stench of rotting flesh, heavy in the wind. She smiled wide at the
carnage. These men had dared oppose her—and they had paid the price.
    “Should we not bury the dead, Goddess?” came
a voice.
    Volusia looked over to see the commander
of her armed forces, Rory, a human, tall, broad-chested, with a chiseled chin
and stunning good looks. She had chosen him, had elevated him above the other
generals, because he was pleasing to the eyes—and even more so, because he was
a brilliant commander and would win at any cost—just like her.
    “No,” she replied, not looking at him. “I
want them to rot beneath the sun, and the animals to gorge on their flesh. I
want all to know what happens to those who oppose the Goddess Volusia.”
    He looked out at the sight, recoiling.
    “As you wish, Goddess,” he replied.
    Volusia scanned the horizon, and as she
did, her sorcerer, Koolian, wearing
a black hood and cloak, with glowing green eyes and a wart-lined face, the
creature who had helped guide her own mother’s assassination—and one of the few
members of her inner circle whom she still trusted—stepped up beside her,
scanning it too.
    “You know that they are out there,” he
reminded. “That they come for you. I feel them coming even now.”
    She ignored him, looking straight ahead.
    “As do I,” she finally said.
    “The Knights of the Seven are very
powerful, Goddess,” Koolian said. “They travel with an army of sorcerers—an
army even you cannot fight.”
    “And do not forget Romulus’s men,” Rory added.
“Reports have him close to our shores even now, returned from the Ring with his
million men.”
    Volusia stared, and a long silence hung
in the air, broken by nothing but the howling of the wind.
    Finally, Rory said:
    “You know we cannot hold this place.
Remaining here will mean death for us all. What do you command, Goddess? Shall
we flee the capital? Surrender?”
    Volusia finally turned to him and
smiled.
    “We shall celebrate,” she said.
    “Celebrate?” he asked, shocked.
    “Yes, we shall celebrate,” she said. “Right
until the very end. Reinforce our city gates, and open the grand arena. I
declare a hundred days of feasts and games.