The Crystal Empire Preview 1

Introduction

For your reading pleasure is an early look into an early chapter of The Crystal Empire, my upcoming epic fantasy project. It is a rought draft, and things will likely change between this and the published version.

This chapter server as the prologue, and centers around Tulian, God Emperor of all creation as he dies before he is supposed to.

An audiobook recording of this preview chapter is available here

Tulian

Tulian, the nine hundred and ninety fourth Emperor, Lord and God of Creation, Father of All, Whose Will Was Supreme, was dying. He knew that his death was imminent when his year was up, as it was for all the men and women who became God before him. The human body could only contain infinite cosmic power for so long before being burned away. What Tulian felt though was something much more mundane than the all-consuming burning that previous gods had described as they had passed on their mantle. No, this felt to him like poison, sapping his warmth away and thickening his blood as it pumped through his veins.

His servants found Tulian in his living room, the large crystal formation that resembled a hearth glowing red with enough heat to cook skin on contact, their tall, lithe emperor’s long dark hair tousled beneath him where he lounged. He appeared to be sweating, but to the touch he was cold and clammy. Immediately they called for the Council, the heads of each of the Seven orders that made up the Empire’s bureaucracy.

They gathered in Tulian’s chambers at the top of the Imperial Palace, the great edifice of interwoven crystal and stone that sat at the very center of their Crystal Empire. Each of them wore their formal robes, with their many folds and pointed shoulders, each in the color of their order, and each accompanied as always by their arch-crystals.

“This is indeed a grave situation,” said the strained, aged voice of Bran, head of the order of Liene the Priestess. The stooped old man was nearing one hundred, the skin exposed from beneath his blue robes was pocked with liver spots and what little of the hair he still had seemed to collect on his ears in little white wisps. While his body had decayed, the others of the council knew all too well that the Priest’s mind was still razor sharp. “You’re showing all the signs of Jenesium Pharalex poisoning.”

“But how could such a thing be possible?” asked elegant Veria of the Merchants. She was a woman of about fifty or so, who had been a peer and confidant of Tulian’s as far back as the academy. He always suspected she’d chosen her order because the indigo robes suited her best.

Before Bran could answer, the red-robed young man in the room dropped to his knees. He was a tall, lithe man, making the gesture quite dramatic, especially with his ruby red crystal looming above him.

“I apologize,” Malcon of the Warriors said, eyes to the ground.

Tulian gave a pained laughed, “For what?”

Malcon had been an odd choice to elevate to Primate of the Warriors, but that had been Bran’s most recent show of force two years in the making. The previous Primate had long struggled with the Priests, and Bran in particular, in the stupid games of petty control over the Empire’s bureaucracy. At Bran’s encouragement, the man had been elected as Tulian’s predecessor, the 993rd God of the Crystal Empire, and his biggest supporters had turned down their own candidacies for Primate after Bran visited them each one by one and promised to make them the 994th God, should they be selected. Malcon had proven a capable Primate, and his lack of experience was something Bran was more than happy to work with.

“My lord?” Malcon asked, looking up.

It was exhausting to turn and look the man in the eyes where he knelt, but Tulian managed it.

“Get off my rug,” Tulian coughed. “And what do you have to apologize for? I am god. We’ve never in…”

“Eight hundred years,” Bran put it.

“Thank you. Eight hundred years had any sort of food or wine testers for the meals God eats. We don’t post guards upon God’s chambers. God cannot be killed by mortal means. Nobody expects the Warriors to protect me.”

“I…”, Malcon said, standing. “Oh. I appo..”

“No, don’t get into that loop again boy. It’s fine.”

“Aww,” said Rhea of the Masons in yellow. “I wanted to tease him…”

Tulian rolled his eyes to glare at her, then gestured weakly to the old Priest.

“I can only guess how this could be possible, dear Veria,” Bran said. “My priests are bringing over our medical supplies, and we will begin treatment as soon as we are able. I’ve sent my most trusted brothers to retrieve the GodTester, and once they return I hope to have some better understanding.”

The room was quiet for a moment before the green robed Farmer, Elias, spoke.

“What happens if he dies?”

They didn’t know.

***

That evening, Tarran’s Judges acted at once. Across the empire, in one fell swoop the hammer of justice came down upon the empire’s criminal element. Every thief, thug, smuggler and whore of any note at all was apprehended, tried, and sentenced to as many as seven years of indentured servitude for their crimes.

Tulian received the reports with stoic fatality.

They aren’t going to find anything.

He knew they wouldn’t. He and Tarran had discussed the move in private before the others had arrived. They were both in agreement that they needed to work through the processes seeking a suspect before they could march up to Bran and accuse him or one of his priests. Not that they were the only option, but Bran’s motives were most suspect among the council. Even if it had not been a priest, the poisoner, and indeed whatever else was happening, came from within Tulian’s own court. Still, it would be good for the Empire to sweep through and clean up the underground.

He was wrapped in a large blanket sitting on the balcony looking out over the Empire as it was cast in the orange light of the setting sun. The view from the Palace tower was quite spectacular, and he had always enjoyed taking in the sunsets. Behind him and through the large double doors his chambers were empty save Malcon, who had insisted on personally standing guard. Tulian hadn’t objected.

Tarran’s messenger shivered as a cool wind whipped at the tower.

“His Honor wishes for me to confirm he still has your support in what happens next.”

With great effort, Tulian nodded.

“Thank you, Len,” Tulian said. “Please return to Tarran and give him my regards.”

The messenger bowed, the indigo crystal staying in place behind him, then following him as he left. Tulian’s own purple crystal was leaning against the wall behind him as if it were simply a mundane hundred pound chunk of perfectly clear, perfectly cut gemstone. He had always appreciated those who were more subtle with their crystals’ presence.

Tulian felt a stab of icy pain as some of the poison released into his blood stream, and let out an agonized groan.

“Damn it,” Tulian complained. “Why? Have I done something wrong?”

He heard footsteps and looked to see Malcon peeking out.

“Do you need anything?”

Tulian waved him away. “No no, I’m fine.”

The boy didn’t try to hide his skepticism.

“The priests said that the Power has faded?”

Tulian nodded. “But they can’t say where it’s gone. It’s okay. I don’t think this is going to kill me.”

The boy was still skeptical. Damn it, he deserved that.

“I’m god, Malcon. I’ll be fine.”

Finally the red-robed warrior nodded.

“Of course, sir,” Malcon said. “That’s only part of what worries me though.”

Tulian shot him a look.

“Go on?”

The younger man thought for a moment. “It’s about the poison.”

Tulian groaned. “Don’t start that again.”

“I won’t. It’s just… It doesn’t make sense. Poison? Nobody would even bother unless they knew something the rest of us don’t… Knew that the power was going to withdraw?”

He closed his eyes, and his red crystal glowed for a moment. Tulian felt a warm tingle as Malcon’s focus passed over him.

“How could someone even tell?” Malcon sighed. “It’s like looking at the sun.”

“Are you coming onto me Malcon?” Tulian grinned, watching Malcon flush a deeper red than his robes.

“Sir, I…”

“You’ll forgive a dying man his fun… But that’s an important itch you’re scratching boy, and a dangerous one. Keep scratching, but be very careful who you trust with this suspicion. For now though, I think it’s best to let the issue rest.”

Malcon nodded, saying nothing else as the two men watched the traffic of the imperial city in quiet contemplation.

***

Tulian tried to think of it as a slow relaxation, a gentle descent into a long, well deserved sleep. He sat on his balcony, looking out over his city and his empire beyond it. Where he had chosen to die.

He had planned to be standing to greet his calling, but the poison had made him so weak that he could not stand without someone to hold him. Nor would he be dissolving into light like he was supposed to, but dying of his heart stopping? Of poison? No, he sat with a bitter finality in the spot he had chosen to die.

The God Emperor was, of course, accompanied by his closest living family, his friends and confidants, and naturally the high and mighty of each of the seven Imperial Orders. The others had finally taken up Malcon’s vigil, though the Primate himself was missing. The last to join them was Bran, accompanied by several blue robed acolytes carrying the essential regalia for the appointment ceremony. Tulian was honestly surprised they had not already retrieved all of it from storage and had it at the ready. Perhaps he had misjudged Bran all along…

He sat there a long time, waiting to die, the others more than respectful of his silent contemplation. It was boring. As the sun was hanging low in the horizon, Tulian attuned himself to the three foot long violet crystal that rested beneath his chair, and began to hum. It filled itself with a soft light, and Tulian began to play. Through the crystal, his will became light and sound for the others to see, and he showed them his soul. He was once again the little boy who had been pushed down into the mud by the other, bigger boys at his school. The young man who climbed to the top of his class in the academy. The father to four children, two of them now becoming parents themselves. All his accomplishments and dreams were laid bare for the world to see as he played for them.

As he did, he looked for the telltale purpling of the sky as the change began, but he knew that was foolish even before the sun set and the true dark of night set in. The heavens would provide no fanfare for his passing.

And so it was that midway through the completion of his wife’s summer garden that Tulian’s heart finally stopped, his song, his will, his life fading from the world.

***

Bran stood and nodded to his assistant. “He is dead.”

Kal nodded back, and the team set to work immediately beginning the ritual of transfer. With some of Bran’s own modifications.

The gathered crowd wept for Tulian’s passing, and truly the world had lost a great man. It had been a shame that he had to have died like this, but that was the way of things. The death of a great man was not an opportunity to waste.

Tarran of the Judges stepped forward.

“Bran, what is this?” the white-haired bear of a man asked, gesturing to the energies Bran’s acolytes were beginning to weave around them.

“Containment, Tarran. Nothing nefarious, I assure you, simply a precaution in case…”

Beside him, Tulian’s body trashed, and a blast of intense rose light lanced into the stonework of the ceiling above them. One of the mages’ workings caught the debris and flicked it away from the crowd.

“Well… That kind of thing, I suppose. We thought it best to be prepared for the unexpected.”

Tarran nodded approvingly, and stepped back to let Bran work.

The acolytes began the hymn, and Bran was anointed with the proper oils. As if the corpse were a crystal, Bran reached for Tulian’s body with his will, and found an infinitely vast power raging inside. He invited it into himself and that was all it took. At first a trickle, then a wave as the power fled its dying host.

And Bran became the second nine hundred and ninety fourth Emperor, Lord and God of all Creation.

Want to read more? Check out the next Crystal Empire Preview Chapter