The Pinnacle Of Empire (Book 6) Read Free Page A

beneath the mountain peaks. Dagmar reined in her jittery horse at the summit as the panoramic view of the Sengenwhan plain opened up before her. Grekenbach rode up beside her. Her heart jumped. She scanned the plain and the ruins of Sengenwhapolis where fresh, greenish timbers and whiter, newly-chiseled reconstruction stones contrasted on the ancient capital’s lichen-gray shell. The scaring mounds of mass graves beyond the walls dampened her joy. What a bitter-sweet homecoming, she thought.
    “Dagmar, we’ve avoided the subject of your relationship with Saxthor long enough. I know you love him. I’m prepared to accept that. But we should discuss that and its effect on our relationship. Our kingdoms must be joined for our peoples’ sake, for their sense of security now that Neuyokkasin and the empire are one.”
    “I know you grieve for Queen Nonee as well, Grekenbach,” Dagmar said. “Perhaps we shouldn’t speak of this just yet.”
    “We must speak of it, Dagmar. I’ll leave Sengenwha soon, but before I return to Graushdemheimer, I need to know if you’ll marry me.” He patted his horse’s neck as, sensing the tension, it nervously stamped on the stones.
    Dagmar watched him for a moment. He didn’t look back at her. “Yes, Grekenbach, I’ll marry you. We both know this to be a marriage of state, but you’re a good man and this will serve our kingdoms well. I’ll be a good wife and queen to both our peoples. I think Sengenwha will appreciate the security of Graushdem’s alliance as well.”
    Grekenbach sighed, his face relaxed, and he smiled at his betrothed. He spurred his horse down the slope to Sengenwhapolis. Dagmar followed but slower.
    Grekenbach is clearly relieved, she thought, but even my horse seems to reflect reservations. She felt a sudden chill as a gust of wind tossed back her riding cloak. How can I be true to my own feelings when so many others depend on me for their security and prosperity? Royalty has a high price.
    * * *
    Memlatec and Tournak strolled in the imperial gardens at Ossenkosk several weeks after Saxthor’s coronation. The old wizard’s stride was slow and haphazard despite his watching the gravel walk.
    The master wizard seems even older now, Tournak thought. His movements are more reserved… his moods more reflective and resigned. “What troubles you, master? I’ve noted you have a more introspective nature since returning from the war.”
    Memlatec stopped to pluck a rosebud from its thorny bush. He sniffed the flower and then frowned, staring at the bud. “The flower’s suggested beauty is premature. There’s no fragrance, and now it will never reach its purpose. Empires are like flowers; they grow strong and promising, flower- briefly dazzling the world- and then crumble into history.”
    “Yes, but they do flower and leave the seeds of new generations. Powteros rose from the ruins of the old Occintoc Empire. Now Neuyokkasin is but a bud sprung from the Powteros Empire.”
    “This empire, like this flower, will not sow seeds.” The rosebud tumbled from the gnarled fingers where its beauty lay suspended momentarily on the dark earth, a promise not to be.
    “You’re too pessimistic, Memlatec. The empire is reborn with our Saxthor on the throne. There is peace, and Dreaddrac’s evil is destroyed.”
    “Is it?” the old wizard asked, his voice hollow like his features. He stared into Tournak’s face.
    “But you went into the subterranean caverns of the Munattahensenhov’s bowels and closed them yourself after the Dark Lord tumbled into that horrific Well of Souls. Nothing could survive that.”
    Memlatec turned to Tournak. “Though the dark wizard’s body is no more, I sense his essence… his evil lives on. It will be focused on vengeance.”
    Tournak felt a chill run through his body. Goose pimples sprang up on his arm like mushrooms on a damp fall lawn. “What can we do?”
    “We must wait and see if I’m right. We must see what form it takes before