Janus Clave: Chapter 1

2008-06-14T12:15:00.003-04:00

Three godstars hung low in the sky above the plains of Golo Rim the night Janus Clave first entered the world of the living.

Taken individually, the portents spoke of longevity, vitality, and mercy. Taken together, however, they hinted at the bloody chaos that would be the legacy of my lord liege.

Janus Clave was not born a monster. He was a beast forged in the fires of deception, betrayal, loss, and hopelessness. But that night in Golo Rim, Janus was a clean slate upon which no venomous ink had yet been scrawled. He was pink and squawling, fresh from his mother's womb. He could harm no one.

Truth be told, he was not born with the name Janus Clave. As the double suns heralded the coming of dawn, he was given the name Janus Urashai, heir of Urashai. He would retain that name and title until waging war against his parents.

But I should not get so far ahead of myself. Everyone knows that story and its repercussions. Few know - or seem to care - what came before. But it is that tale I mean to tell now.

Janus Clave: Prologue

2008-06-14T12:09:00.001-04:00

The emperor sprawled bleeding on a cold slab of granite above the treeline of Tor Shai and knew he was dying.

He had smashed his foes in Shai Valley. He had seen the Atramari scattered before him like so many dry leaves before a gusting gale. He had heard the low moans and high-pitched lamentations of the dying. Many a throat tasted the blooded steel of great sword, the Crown’s Talon.

The army of the Shai Aspect had won, yet the ruler of the Hundred Kingdoms was felled by a belly wound inflicted by his own standard bearer.

Janus Clave should have seen the betrayal coming, would have seen it in a younger day, but he had become blind to so many things in those twilight years of his life.

His brown-flecked green eyes struggled to focus on the valley below as he clutched roughly at the wounds beneath his crimson-stained amber tunic. He shivered against the cold. I knelt beside him, placing the palm of one hand on his broad shoulders. He jerked at the touch. My hand withdrew.

“Traitor,” he snarled, teeth chattering through the venom.

I had loved him well enough, in the beginning. I loved him still. Or, to be more precise, I loved who he had been so many years before. “Flag before friendship, Janus.”

The emperor closed his eyes, hissing at the rebuke. His own words come back to haunt him.

His Grand Imperial Majesty, Emperor Janus Clave, ruler of the Shai Aspect, master of the Hundred Kingdoms – he had once been loved by millions throughout the world, blessed by men and gods alike. But that had been in the age before the sundering of Pallas Koth, the razing of the Temple Oranae, and the bloody crusade known as the Ashing.

“Be done with your gloating, Warrin. Leave me to the gods and the great hereafter.”

I shook my head. “Apologies, Majesty, but I cannot rely on the fickle whims of the gods. They’ve seen fit to spare your life before.” The knife slid from its sheath, still streaked red from the first spilling of the emperor’s blood.

Janus heard the steel whispering against leather. “End it, then.”

I touched the blade to his throat and felt the rise and fall of his hitching, shuddering breaths in the wintry silence that followed. Janus Clave had given the cabal so many reasons to send him to the gods. He had given me more than a few reasons to bear the blade that took his life. Yet in that moment, as I crouched beside my wounded friend upon the face of Tor Shai beneath the eyes of the gods, I hesitated.

The death of Emperor Janus Clave would be celebrated throughout the world. He had, without doubt, committed atrocities and abominable sins against both the friends and enemies of the Shai Aspect. But hadn’t we sung his songs once? Hadn’t we raised him up to lead us? Hadn’t we granted him all the power that corrupts so absolutely?

Warrin Latham would not be remembered as a ruthless assassin who slaughtered a beloved ruler. I would be the liberator of the Shai Aspect, freeing my people from the cruel tyranny of a madman. The cabal would grant me land and title. I’d be given a place of honor among the advisors to serve the next emperor. I would be treated like a hero.

But in that moment, on that ledge, I felt nothing like a hero of the old sagas.

“It’s all my fault,” I muttered.

Janus didn’t say anything. He just laid there, breathing and bleeding. Uncaring, as far as I could tell. He could die fast or he could die slow, but death was certain and absolution wasn’t forthcoming.

Moose Ponderings

Janus Clave: Chapter 1

Janus Clave: Prologue