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A preview chapter from my book

CHAPTER ONE

REQUIEM FOR THE EMPRESS

The sanctity of the night is a time for escaping the weariness of day, a time to slumber and dream, safe and warm in our beds. For only in our dreams can we escape this world to scale the highest mountain, and lose ourselves in the depths of the deep blue oceans amongst those who dwell in that watery realm. But not this night, on this night a great madness taints the dreams of men.

Such was the fury of the raging storm that it appeared the immortal gods themselves wept in lamentation for her loss in a chorus of pain. The thunder broke in the soaring heavens like the roaring of giants from myth, and legends of old, and the rain fell in blinding sheets that obscured the floodlights and the sight of those that gathered, to watch the lonely procession on this miserable night. Lightning tore across the inky black skies, briefly illuminating the tall, proud dwellings, monuments and statues of the beautiful capital city of Ionia on this most dire and sorry of nights.
The biting wind tore around and over buildings, wailing like a chorus of mournful banshees, while slowly, with measured and timed steps, a long procession of grim, dark robed people walked through the open city forum, lined on all sides with tall; monolithic statues of various stern deities and sovereigns long since buried and gone. At the head of this snake-like line of people was carried a delicate glass casket that glimmered in the lamplight, containing the still and cool body of Messalina, immortal Empress of the Ionian people and sovereign of unity.
Held high upon the shoulders of six hooded guards dressed in mourning black, the body was displayed to the gathered thousands who had braved this evil night, to pay their last respects to the woman who had instigated a golden era of peace to the free worlds of the cosmos.
Behind the casket followed the noble leaders of all the free worlds, dressed brightly in their formal attire, which billowed in the breath of the roaring winds. Their heads were bowed in grief, and their faces were grim at the loss of the woman who all had loved as their own kin.
The furious lightning lit up the vast expanse of dwellings and temples of the city as the might of the storm grew, shaking the very foundations of the earth in its sorrow, and pain.
This was no ordinary storm! Long have people known of the strange and mystical powers of the Ionian peoples; a serene, peaceful race that live with a powerful and mysterious link to the changing moods and whims of the weather. Through the intense rigour of meditation and supreme self-control, the Ionians keep this potentially frightening and destructive power within their command, bringing the cooling breezes, when the three suns beat down upon the plains, and to bring the gentle rains to nourish the harvest. In the unrest of war, these peaceful folk were forced into conflict, bringing with them the destructive might of the monsoon and the freezing power of winter’s fury to blight their enemies as they defended their homes. It is often said that when it rains, someone, somewhere of Ionian birth, is weeping. Even the oldest and wisest of folk listen with avid interest to tales told of these ancient peoples.
After the great wars of the fourth age, Messalina united all the free races of the cosmos, bringing about a, millennia of peace and unity of the like never seen before. Amidst the ruins of war and the bodies of the dead, she stood alone and proud like a vision from the gods themselves, and implored unity for all the crippled races in their vulnerable and broken state. For only in the loving arms of unity could they beat back the hordes that threatened their homes and could there be peace!
Upon this night, the fury of the Ionian peoples was unleashed with unbridled vigour and woe, the divine Messalina, instigator of peace, had fallen to the foul hand of betrayal, and to her death!
The procession arrived at the foot of the vast, blue-veined marble stair that led to the shadowed, imperial palace complex, with its titanic doors of hammered bronze.
As the casket was laid with loving care, upon an altar of white stone at the base of the stairs, the following noblemen and women moved to flank its sides in silent efficiency. The equally sombre members of the Imperial Senate stood silent in a great square of hooded robes, with heads bowed low in respect.
One elderly woman in midnight-blue robes and a black cloak, leaning heavily upon a gilded staff, touched the casket lightly with wizened fingers that glittered with gold and muttered a prayer with whispered words that were swept asunder on the wings of the wind.
The ravages of murder and betrayal were not evident upon her serene face as she slept her timeless sleep. Her delicate features remained unscathed and unstamped by the evil forced upon her. She was a tall, lithe woman, with slender, pale hands clasped over her breast, and long rippling, copper hair, lightened from the years spent in the suns of her world. Her face was slim and pale with kind green eyes beneath her closed lids, and a stern mouth that had been delicately painted with the palest amber tones. In life she was a woman who radiated beauty and wisdom, her presence had demanded respect and she ruled piously with the love of all. In death she embodied the serenity and peaceful sleep of the deceased in their timeless slumber.
Atop the great steps in the midst of the stinging rain, stood a lone figure swathed in an ashen cloak, dappled with rain like so many shining stars, blown about his body by the unseen hands of the wind. He was tall and straight-shouldered. His eyes burned darkly in his youthful, handsome face, framed with a sodden mass of shoulder length, chestnut brown hair that blew in unison with his cloak in the biting gale. He looked down grimly, upon the resting casket and its ethereal contents; and fought back the tears that threatened to spill from his eyes. Down he looked with deepest sorrow, upon the one who had protected and loved him all his long life, his Empress, his teacher, his closest friend… his mother!
As the leaders of the free worlds turned, and inclined their heads toward the ground, all those within the great expanse of the forum and tiered among its balconies, windows and rooftops watched, in complete silence.
Their eyes rested with the greatest sympathy upon this lonely figure in his sodden, ashen cloak, until finally he cried out in a voice that cut the air, like a knife in the dark. Commanding the attention of all as it carried over the expanse.
“Long ago, this beloved world of ours was plunged into darkness as everything we held so dear was assailed by the savage hordes.”
He paused, and let his gaze sweep across the watching crowd through the bitter rain.
“Our way of life hung by the barest of threads and almost fell as your mighty houses were compromised, in the midst of ruin and death we despaired for the survival of our worlds, for our families and our loved ones!”
He stopped briefly and took a few tentative steps towards the casket. He was rigid with grief, and swayed slightly where he stood.
“One person, and one person alone, believed in the survival of our peoples. One person alone had faith and foresight, that your forefathers could rise from the ashes of ruin like the celestial phoenix, to bring beauty and peace once again to our worlds, to breath life, into a dying universe. Over one thousand years have passed since that darkest of times in our long and noble history. This world in which you live, this world of love and unity, that we all hold close to our hearts and take for granted, has been the child of the woman we see before us tonight. She nurtured it, and loved it. She made brothers of enemies, and lovers of foes, and now my mother, your mother, the Empress Messalina, has fallen into darkness!”
He descended the remaining steps to lay his hands upon the final resting place of his mother, amidst the pitying glances of those surrounding. The ancient woman in the blue robes wept silently behind a painfully clawed hand. He continued, with anger staining his voice like a bitter poison.
“My mother has been taken from me… by some unseen hand my mother fell.” He said, almost to himself. “From afar, the mystic force that blesses my people with long life was slowly sapped from her body, as the days passed, so she grew weaker, like a flower that wilts in the sun’s powerful light, until her spirit left us forever.”
He lowered his head a moment as tears blurred his vision once more. One of the mourners broke away to place a slender arm around his shoulders. He looked up into the brilliant blue eyes of his comforter and found a familiar face smiling back at him with enormous warmth and love.
“Remar, you have come,” he whispered with a weary smile.
“Yes Titus my love, I am here now,” he replied in his musical voice that was nearly lost to the fury of the storm, and smiling kindly in return.
Remar, was a man of slender build, with hard, sinewy muscle that pulled taught the silk of his clothes, and shapely, broad shoulders. He had a kind, handsome face that was slightly weathered, and deep-set blue eyes that smouldered in the gloom, all this was topped by a circlet of silver flowers that nestled in his short, corn-yellow hair. As they embraced, a pair of great white, feathery wings, as long as a man unfurled from beneath his white cloak, and sheltered them from the lashings of the bitter wind as they enclosed the embracing pair.
Lord Remar was the noble son of Seral, lord of the angel like Mithrainians who dwell in their vast floating city, suspended above the skies of Ionia, and was an age-old friend to Prince Titus.
“Continue keeper of my heart,” he said releasing the prince from their gentle embrace and edging him towards the crowd.
“At a time like this my mother would have found wise words of wisdom and encouragement to help us through this painful time, but my mother I am not. I feel only pain, and could never hope to rule as greatly as she. Only know this, the investigation into her demise, now spans seven, inhabited planetary systems. The bounty I have placed upon information leading to their capture now ensures their complete inability to enter a civilised system without being taken into custody. I make this vow before you now. I shall not rest, until the person, or persons responsible for my mother’s death have been taken into custody, and executed. I shall not rest until they have suffered, as we suffer, they shall know the ways of pain as surely as our worlds know it now!”
At these words a great cheer arose in a wall of sound and stamping of feet as Remar whispered gently into Titus’ ear.
“Such… evil thoughts and words from one so kind and fair my beloved.”
“Would you not declare it so if you stood in my stead?” He hissed in response, fixing Remar with his anguished stare.
“This is not my Kingdom to rule Titus, you must do as your heart implores you my friend,” he replied shaking his head sadly. When the cheering had abated, and the crowd silenced once more, Titus raised his arms raised and said with heart-breaking finality.
“Children of Ionia, tame the grief in your hearts and clear the skies, so that your mother may leave this place on the gentle wings of the wind, sent with our love!”
Upon these grave words the raging of the storm began to decline, the rains stopped, the howling winds sang no more, and the black clouds parted to reveal the pale light of the twin moons that bathed them all in their silvery light.
Titus reached slowly to the side of the altar, and depressed within the contours of the stone, a hidden switch. White flames appeared inside the glass casket and gently began to play along the silent body of Messalina. All who watched sank to one knee, and many wept as they watched the last journey of their Empress. Soon, her body was obscured by fire and the lid of the casket slid slowly open to release her spirit to the skies with the soaring flame, and the gentle grey smoke. All across the great city the outer defence weapons began firing a tattoo into the silent air, in honour of her life, sending great shafts of colour, arcing into the blackness of the night.

HELL HATH NO FURY LIKE A WOMAN WHO CRAVES POWER!
The Esquline Hill
Messalina Valeria
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