This story is a tale about what might have happened, if the last few chapters in Emperor Mage hadn't occured. Basicly, saying that Ozrone was in the room checking up on Daine when she awoke, and so Zek never had the chance to get her out with the keys. Please send me any questions/comments you have about the story to my email address at blackch@angelfire.com Thanks! Read and Enjoy!
The attractive young girl stirred in her sleep, and the tall, dark man in the room, who was standing over her, rushed to her side and knelt before her. He fumbled in his robes for a bottle, and came up with a small vial about an inch tall. He opened it quickly, and gently forced it down the helpless girl's throat before she could fully awaken to her surroundings.
"Now, now. Veralidaine. You wouldn't want to wake, and mess up all my plans, would you? Especially the plans for your future. I've almost got what I want in my grip, and I will not release it now. Or ever. As soon as I can be assured that you will agree with my plans, and favour me over your long departed..." here he paused, "...Companions. Especially that traitorous one, the once-was Arram Draper. When you favour me, I will release you from this imprisonment and give you a title and estates. It will not be long in coming, I believe. However, sleep for now. Sleep. Sleep," the middle-aged man commanded forcefully.
With a final sigh, the enchanted girl fell again into her world of dreams, and the tall, black Carthakian Emperor strode quietly out the handleless door and closed it quickly behind him, leaving no trace in the hallway beyond that anyone had ever been there, or that the smooth white wall hid a door that barred anyone from magic, inside or out.
Lady Melane of Dejouné strode out on the balcony of her home, and overlooked the view of the nearby town, Sierra Issabelle, and the Emerald Ocean beyond that. Her blue-gray eyes took in everything from Dejouné to the Coast, and she shook her massive brown curls to keep them out of her eyes so she could see more clearly. When she saw what she had been squinting at for the last ten minutes, she sighed and plumped down upon a cushion on the deck.
"One might only suppose they are again preparing for that terrible war," she muttered darkly. "If only the poor Emperor didn't have to wage that whole bloodshed against them, when they treason against us and wouldn't even let us take revenge upon that horrible vagabond whose fault it is, the Mage, what was his name again?" her brow furrowed in thought, "Oh. Yes. The mage Numair Salmalìn!" Melane exclaimed with disgust.
"Lady? Your dinner is ready," a slave informed her from the doorway quietly.
"Thank you. I'll be right down." Melane announced absentmindedly as the slave nodded and walked off.
Melane hurried out of the balcony and down the staircase of her manor to the dining room, where she sat and began to eat her gourmet dinner. When a servant entered, leading the tall Emperor Mage, Lady Melane quickly stood up and curtseyed deeply to him.
"Emperor Ozrone, would you care to share my meal with me? I was just sitting down," she queried politely.
"Yes, thank you," he agreed after a moment of hesitation. "Anything for you, my dear girl," he declared grandly.
Melane smiled, grinning at the man who had protected her and given her titles, after the deaths of her poor, poor parents. And how it saddened her, the amnesia that came afterward, how she couldn't remember them at all.
"Let us begin," the Emperor stated magnificently.
Late that night, Melane sat up late thinking, mostly about her unfortunate past. And about Emperor Ozrone. The two were connected, as he had been so kind to her, and he was actually the only one who was truthful enough to tell her the whole story. Many people in the empire, including nobles, thought that he was the enemy, and that all of the problems occurring in the empire were his fault. But they didn't know him like she did, they didn't know that the real power behind him were his advisors, who were heartless, cruel, and mean. They allowed him little power. Nobody else in the realm, however, could see it. They were all determined to believe that he was a ruthless tyrant.
She hadn't really been around the empire much, though, in the brief amount of time that her memory had been returned to her. The Emperor said he was protecting her from those who would want to hurt her, so she spent most of her time getting to know the area surrounding her estates.
Numair Salmalìn stared out the window of his small bedroom in the palace of Tortall, at a rare quiet moment. Ever since the War started, he hadn't had a moment's peace to himself. It was a good thing, though, for it made it impossible for him to dream, for he was completely exhausted when he fell into bed. And he knew that there was only one thing, one person, that he would dream of: Daine.
He'd stayed as long as he could, but King Jonathon had ordered him home after two weeks, when the Carthakian Armies began their march. He was smuggled out on a small, fishing ship, and he had looked backwards towards Carthak the whole voyage, tears in his eyes for leaving his student, friend, and secret love, Veralidaine Sarrasri, behind. Not that he would have been very likely to find her. It was impossible to find anyone in the magical cells underneath the palace, for they didn't conduct magic, and he would never find where her room was.
And now he was stuck in the mage corps, using his magic to fight for Jon, when he could be rescuing Daine instead.