The Column Racer (7 page)

Bray gently opened it and fixed her mother’s make-up, and then removed his own handkerchief to wipe her mother’s hands. He replaced his tools and was given a replacement handkerchief, and then turned towards Areli.

“Ah,” said the young man. He looked at Areli and then at her mother, who now had tears welling into her eyes. This brought horror to Bray and a grateful smile to Areli. She looked at both her parents as Bray frantically tried to avoid a disaster with her mother’s mascara.

Her parents looked as if they just completed their under years, as they both looked twenty-years younger than they actually were. The wrinkles in the corners of her father’s eyes were gone, her mother’s age lines on her cheeks completely disappeared, and both were dressed as elegantly as she was. Areli was grateful that Bray was gentle with her mother, calmly explaining to her that in front of the Emperor, they must look their absolute best. Emilee cleared her throat, gathering everyone’s attention.

“Shall we, Bray?” asked Emilee, giving Areli’s mother a distasteful look. Areli could have lost it right then and there. She could have smacked Emilee across the face using all of her unleashed hate. But Areli calmed herself, after seeing her father’s disarming eyes as he caught her clenched fist. Emilee didn’t notice a thing, none of them did, not even her mother.

Emilee stood next to Bray, and he held out his arm for her. The large group started up another flight of stairs, toward a guarded double-door, a picture of Emperor Ailesh positioned above it.

As they walked, Bray looked behind his shoulder towards Areli, who tried to look away, but even out of the corner of her eyes, she caught his admiring smile.

“I see your touch is as magical as ever,” exclaimed Bray as they got to the top of the stairs.

“I notice you still have it as well,” said Emilee jokingly. They kept up their light conversation as they walked in front of everyone, past the guarded doors, and then through elegant room after elegant room. Areli wanted to look around, but she was not as accustomed to heels as everyone else and was mainly focused on getting her toes on the ground.

When they got to a green room, with such high ceilings it seemed to be a planet in itself, their movement was halted in front of closed doors. The guard gave a knock, and after a while, a young woman came to answer. Her lipstick was smeared and the wig on her head off-set. Even Areli couldn’t help worrying as Bray and Emilee glanced at one another with worried expressions.

“His greatness will be ready shortly,” said the woman in a dismal tone, before disappearing behind the doors.

Areli felt a hand tighten around her hand. It was her mother’s. Both her parents seemed apprehensive. Her father couldn’t stop playing with the fabric of his pants, and her mother was rubbing her newly trimmed and painted nails against her thumb.

Even Areli could feel the fear rise in her chest. They were about to come face to face with madness in its most elegant form. Murderer, executioner, judge, rapist, and depraved were only some of the words used to describe the forty-year old Emperor, who used the entire world as his playground and his army as his bullies. The only people who had his respect were his warriors, commanders, soldiers, and riders.

The door opened and Areli saw him, Emperor Ailesh. Sitting with a light blue trench coat, with no shirt or shoes, a pair of color-matching trousers, and a large gold crown shimmering on the top of his head. The group started forward again, behind Bray and Emilee, and the assistants followed in the rear, sandwiching Areli and her family in the middle.

The room was again another world. The walls a deep crimson, and a ceiling that was the epitome of decadence, as small gold-dipped dragons appeared to be walking on the entirety of its surface. A curtain fell from the ceiling to the floor behind the Emperor’s throne, like blood cascading off of a cliff. And four female servants were on either side of him, all young, all beautiful.

The Emperor looked up from his cup of wine and smiled as Areli and her parents were introduced by their respected stylists. With a wave of his hand the Emperor cast the stylists to the side of the room, which seemed like miles away, and handed his cup to one of his female whores. He then started laughing and clapping his hands hysterically. Areli and her mother looked at each other through the corners of their eyes, her mother tightened her hold.

The Emperor fell from his seat and started to choke on his own silliness.

“I’m so sorry,” said the Emperor, wiping the tears from his eyes, “it’s just, it’s just.” He went into a fit of laughter again. “Oh this is priceless. Mrs. Roberts, are you planning on flying with your daughter as well?” Areli looked down at their entangled hands, white with pressure. The smile washed off the Emperor’s face as quickly as it had shown.

“Do you think I am going to hurt your daughter, Mrs. Roberts?” asked the Emperor. Areli could feel her mother’s hand trembling in her own. “Do you think me capable of such harm, that you feel you need to protect her?” Areli focused her attention solely on the Emperor, but she could sense her mother shaking her head.

“No, your greatness,” said her mother softly, trying to control the tremble in her voice. The Emperor walked slowly to her and loosened their fingers. Areli felt like she was falling from a mountain to a death-bed of jagged rocks. The Emperor looked at her mother’s fingers, and Areli wished she could control their quivering. The Emperor kissed her mother’s hands and stuck her fingers into his mouth, rolling his tongue around them.

Areli wished to see no more of this disgraceful act, but the Emperor forced her to watch, grabbing her chin and turning it towards them. He did the same thing to her father. Making each of them understand that he could do whatever he wanted, to whoever he wanted, and there was nothing anyone could do about it.

The Emperor let go of her mother’s fingers, chipping the paint with his teeth.

“Do you fear me, Mrs. Roberts?” asked the Emperor, “and be truthful.” Areli wanted to scream for the horrible man to stop, as she could sense her mother’s shuddering shoulders.

“I know you’re not deaf, Mrs. Roberts,” said the Emperor, grabbing a hold of her cheeks and making her look directly into his eyes. And then he asked the question again, this time more slowly, as if he were talking to a child. She nodded her head, tears coming out of her eyes.

“Stop it,” said the Emperor, “Mrs. Roberts, stop it, or I will have to stop it for you.” Areli could feel her fist turn into a ball. A scream was on the edge of her tongue, anger was turning her rigid. Her mother turned silent, her eyes straining to cut through the final tears.

“And what about, Mr. Roberts?” asked the Emperor with a smile, letting go of Areli’s mother, leaving her quiver. “Do you fear me?” Areli’s father looked at him with spiteful and disbelieving eyes. No one ever disgraces a man, a man’s wife, or his family like that. The Emperor started laughing again, and used the shoulders of her fathers to keep from falling over. “You want to hit me!” said the Emperor with excitement, “you absolutely hate me.”

Areli’s father was shaking with rage, tears coming from his eyes, streaking pain and shame down his cheeks. The Emperor grabbed her father forcefully by the jaw. “But you can’t, can you Mr. Roberts, because I am Emperor and you are not. Because I am worshipped and you are not. Because I wear a crown, and you cannot. Now, stop your pathetic crying, or I will tear off your wife’s clothes, and make her scream in ways you never could – in front of both you and your child. That’s a good little boy.”

The Emperor saved Areli for last. He was arrogant, brash, and held no boundaries. He was cold, without shame or any sort of morals. Areli stayed firm, relaxed her fingers, and tried to keep her body from shaking as the Emperor touched the strands of her hair as if he was her lover. She had been lied to. The Emperor respected no one, not even his own riders.

He smelled the side of her neck and brushed his fingers across her exposed collarbone, in-between her breasts, and down her stomach. He gently caressed her arm, starting at the tip of her shoulder to her hand. He lifted her fingers to his mouth and kissed them gently before politely laying them next to her side. And then, violently, he grabbed her by the back of her hair, bringing her so close to him that their noses were touching.

“I have one rule, Miss Roberts,” said the Emperor, “you win. You win, and your parents live. You win, and your dragon lives. You win, and you live. Do we have an understanding?” Areli nodded her head. “Good.” The Emperor let her hair go, but grabbed her wrist, and pulled her up to his throne. Areli stared back at her parents. Her mother had fallen to the ground. Her father had kneeled next to her, trying to encourage her back to her feet.

Once up at the throne, the Emperor reached behind his chair and pulled out a crossbow.

“BRING THE PRISONER!” yelled the Emperor to one of his female whores. The one closest to them walked to one of the far gold doors, exchanged a few words with whomever was on the other side, and returned with a pretty young woman, bound at the back and gagged at the mouth. She had been drugged. Areli could tell by the way the whore had to steady the woman, her eyes hardly able to stay open.

“There is one thing I need to be sure of,” said the Emperor, taking an arrow, and placing it in the bow, cocking it back, “I need to know where your loyalties lay, Miss Roberts.”

“With you, Emperor,” said Areli, scared, “of course, they’re with you.”

“Then prove it,” said the Emperor, “prove your obedience to me. Prove your allegiance.” He placed the crossbow in her fingers, laced her finger against the trigger, and positioned the butt of the weapon against her shoulders. “That woman there. She’s a follower, Areli. She’s a deceitful little tramp that had taken residence in the bed of Degendhard’s. I want you to kill her for me. I want you to punish her, for her crimes against her Empire.” Areli looked at him, bewildered, with eyes that screamed,
you can’t be serious!

“If you don’t. Then I will have no other option than to assume you have been taken to Degendhard’s bed as well. You will do this, Areli. You will punish her. Prove your worth.” Areli took a deep breath, feeling the smoothness of the wood and the coldness of the trigger for the first time since having the harsh weapon thrust into her hand.

The Emperor, sensing her hesitation, forced himself upon her. Her lifted her arms, and steadied the weapon into her shoulder, his chest pressed up against her back, his lips rubbing against her ear. The crossbow shook. The woman’s head lulled back and forth as she was stuck in a drug rendered dream-state, not knowing that her body faced impalement.

“Stop shaking!” said the Emperor. Areli’s finger kept going back and forth between the trigger and the wooden body of the bow.

“She’s moving too much!” cried Areli.

“Fine,” said the Emperor. He turned Areli’s body to face her mother, the arrow aimed at her chest. “Maybe this will be an easier target.”

“No!” screamed Areli, “no, please, I beg of you. I’ll do it, please. Please!” The Emperor moved the aim of the arrow back to the prisoner.

“Hesitate now, Areli . . . this arrow will be lodged between your mother’s eyes. I can promise you that.” Areli’s whole body shook. The woman’s head continued to move as if it was a board on water, caught in a wicked storm.

“I’m so sorry,” said Areli, under her breath, “I’m so, so sorry.” Her heart caught in her lungs, as the Emperor slid his fingers on top of hers.

“All you have to do is pull, Areli,” said the Emperor, “just pull the trigger.”

Areli closed her eyes, the Emperor held himself firmly pressed against her, steadying her convulsing body, and kept the weapon pointing true. She pulled her finger towards her body. She felt the kick of the bow, as violent as an unbroken horse, against her shoulder. She heard the snap of the arrow being pushed towards its target.

“Welcome to Abhi, Areli” whispered the Emperor into her ear. “You’re dismissed.” She opened her eyes. The weapon fell from her hands. The prisoner was no longer in front of her kneeling. The force of the arrow had knocked her onto her back, the shaft lodged into the woman’s head. Areli had just killed a person. Not just killed, but executed someone. And not just someone, but a follower of Degendhard.

The Emperor called forth the stylists and assistants. He told Emilee to get Areli from where she stood silently and motionless, her entire body in shock. The Emperor took one more passing look at them from his chair, and dismissed them.

There was no more talk between Bray and Emilee. Areli could hear sniffling coming from behind her, which she assumed came from Samara. And before they left the Emperor’s room, a blood curdling laughter sent chills down her spine, as the Emperor was back to drinking wine and prancing around with his women.

The walk back through the palace was nothing but a mixture of colors, as no one spoke a word, and Areli’s head swirled with pain, anger, and regret. As they walked back down to their carriage, Kaia screamed for Areli as she could feel all her rider’s emotions pushing through her. She looked at her parents, who were both wet with emotion, and she could no longer keep up her strength, and she cried as well.

The group stopped as her father grabbed his wife and daughter to him as if he hadn’t seen them in years, apologizing to them constantly.

“It’s okay, Areli,” cried her father, “you had no choice. It was either her or your mother. You had no choice.” Her mother’s body shook like a crashing wave, her father an avalanche of pain, and Areli’s own body felt like a falling tree. Emilee grabbed Areli’s arm, pulling her away from her parents to her mother’s scream.