I will cross my fingers in the hope that you will enjoy the prologue, and please do review to let me know what you think.
Thank you.
Ozorne, once the Emperor of Carthak, now a Stormwing in every aspect, ran his metallic wing along the lid of a small, wooden box. The sides of it shone with a deep, mahogany hue and bore intricate patterns of interweaving figurines. The box sported two latches, both of which came from pure gold, glowing with a light reminiscent to its maker.
Ozorne's lips curled, enjoying the wooden, smooth texture. Carefully he held it between his wings, weighing down the taste of victory and triumph.
'Beautiful, is it not?' He murmured, and placed it onto the table once again. He flexed his wings, grinding sharp feathers against each other.
'It will be, if you tell me what's inside it,' a cold voice asked. It belonged to a shaman mage whose shaggy blond hair and beard assented a face that was hard and rugged. His right eye shone with impatience whilst his left eye, a large ruby set in empty sockets, blazed with fire.
'I presume you called me for reasons other than admiring the craftsmanship?'
Ozorne bared his teeth. 'Oh you will be admiring, Inar Hadensra. Once you see what I have here, you will be on your knees.' Before the mage could reply, he pushed the box towards him.
'Open it.'
Inar regarded the box for a moment, and then turned to summon the Copper Islander who stood beside him. 'Open it,' he ordered.
Carefully, the Islander reached to unlock the box. His fingers jerked as they met the golden catch as if the metal burnt him. With two fast clicks, he flicked the lid open and quickly stepped back.
Ozorne saw Inar's look of disbelief and his lips curled in a smile. He proceeded to wait in silence for the other man's response.
The shaman's eyes shone with incredulity and amazement. 'Can this be? Is – is it really – '
'The real thing,' Ozorne replied smugly. 'It is just as the legends tell it. Locked within Chaos' realm, it breathes the very essence of her being. Nothing can withstand the evil this box holds. Nothing.'
'And so it is…the… Seven Sins,' Inar breathed, gazing into the box. Colours of green, yellow, grey and blue swirled within, moving like liquid, and so fast that it was nauseous to watch. Seven dots of bronze light jumped around each other, continuously growing bigger and smaller. His hand reached towards the box, fingers stretched for the swirling mass.
'Don't touch it!' Ozorne warned, and there was a swipe of silver as the lid snapped shut.
Inar's eyes flashed. 'How will I know this is not some sort of trickery? I want to test it with my magic.'
'If you also want your Gift corrupted by it, then by all means go ahead.' Ozorne eyed him icily. 'The Seven Sins are not toys to be played with, Inar. Hundreds have been stained, corrupted – killed by the terrible power it wields. You magic will do nothing to it, but it will do much to you. Your Gift will become tainted, made useless as it slowly eats you away.'
'That's all very well, Ozorne, but how do I know you are not lying?'
'You have my word… and Uusoae's. Yes, her. You didn't think I stole it from her did you?' Ozorne smiled. 'No, we have a little agreement. She lends me this gift of hers and I can have my revenge. In the process, I'll weaken Tortall's controls, so you can have your share of the deal.'
'And what is Uusoae's price for this?'
Ozorne's lips twitched. 'The Mortal Realm.'
At the outrage on Inar's face, Ozorne added, 'but we mustn't loose faith in our mighty Mithros. You don't really believe he and the Great Gods will stand by to allow a spoiled sibling of theirs to devour on our world?'
There was a moment of silence while Inar's remaining eye worked furiously. Finally he nodded with a terrible smile.
'A satisfactory plan, Ozorne. I have to admit, you do surprise me sometimes. We shall unleash the Sins into Tortall and let them feed on the King's armies. They will never be able to fight with Uusoae's power inside them. I will take the box and –'
'No! I'll handle the box!' Ozorne snarled and jumped onto the table, wings stretched threateningly.
'I will decide who gets these Sins, and I will be the one to send them. The armies can be weakened in other ways, say, if the commander becomes affected and unable to lead. You just make sure you have the mages and powers you claim to possess ready for when I call you.'
For a second, ruby eye shone with contempt and malice. He clenched his fists, furious with the tone the Stormwing used on him. But the plan was a good one.
'Very well, you shall have the box. Although I cannot see what drives you to be so desperate.'
It was a strange light that crept into Ozorne's eyes. 'I have…my reasons,' he replied quietly. He dug his feathers into the table, scratching the surface with a sound that made hairs rise. 'I have waited so long. Waited, ever since the day I was turned into this shape. I was once the mighty Emperor of Carthak who had all the glories in the land. And now…what have I become? I am forced to flaunt in this Gods-cursed body whilst that pathetic excuse of a boy takes my thrown.' With a furious swipe, something bright shot through his wings. It raced across the air before disappearing with a hiss.
'I will have my revenge, Inar. Mark my word. I will make them pay. They, who have caused my fall and brought me down to as low as this – and you can be sure I will not rest until I destroy them both.'
'Talking about Salmalín and the girl?' Inar's expression was that of cold amusement. 'Such heat over two people. I could kill them both for you. The girl wouldn't be a problem, but Salmalín would take a bit of work.'
'Tempting, Inar, but that won't be necessary.' So saying, Ozorne hopped from the table and landed with a thud in front the shaman mage. A cruel, chilling smile twisting at his features.
'I have plans for Arram and his adoring student. Arram will soon learn the consequences of angering me. And as for Veralidaine, its such a shame that she will soon discover what kind of man her master really is.' Almost lovingly, he stroked the treasure, the gift from the Queen of Chaos. A low chuckle escaped his throat.
'Oh yes. I have exactly what they need in that tender relationship of theirs.'