Kingdoms Fall: Book One Read online

  Khon waved impatiently at Deltar. “Open the damn doors, doctor”.

  Djimon followed Khon, Ironbar and Deltar inside the room and what he saw in there took the breath from his lungs. There were hundreds of clone finishing vats filled with what can only be called monstrosities. Roxide tribe members that had been perverted in the name of science. Some of them were dead from the experiments but most were alive and living in absolute agony. Djimon saw that some of them were boasting more than one head, or eyeballs sticking out of the side of their necks. Some had arms that sprouted out from their backs while others were joined painfully at the hip with a fellow Volgag.Deltar continued the tour as if none of this mattered in the least. “As you can see, my lords. Some of the experiments did not go as planned and ended in what could be called a failure. But the majority of the cloning that we have been performing here has been a resounding success. Please see for yourselves”, he motioned for the three of them to follow him to the metal balcony that overlooked a giant steel pit. Djimon looked down below into the pit and could not believe his eyes. On the floor of the pit were six thousand naked nine foot tall thick muscular Roxides that looked more alien than human beings. All of them had been biologically modified here in the Cloning Completion Room and perversely altered into mutants. They had all been re-created into living weapons, their hands were living blaster weapons, their chests were now white coloured bio-blast amour, the nipples of the female Roxides had dangerous looking bayonets surgically attached to them. All of the Volgags eyes glowed with eerie tendrils of barely contained red-hued bio- energy .

  “What-What is this, Khon? What have you been doing here?” Djimon asked with trepidation.

  “What have I been doing, you ask?” Khon asked with a devilish laugh. “I have been creating my army, Djimon. I am going to use these Volgag dogs to attack Sandstorme and bring all of those enemies of the empire to heel!”

  Djimon’s head was swimming and he subtly noticed that Mumlak’s right hand was resting on the holster of his blaster. “I do not understand, Khon. You cannot raise an army without the queen’s permission!”

  “I knew that was exactly what you what you would say”, was Khon’s flat reply as he whipped out a small silver blaster that he had hidden in the small of his back and shot Djimon point blank in the chest. The ruby red ion beam instantly burned a hole through the royal consort’s heart killing him instantly.

  “My Creator!” Ironbar shouted and instinctively went for the blaster on her hip but Mumlak shot her down dead before she had a chance to clear her holster.

  Khon calmly put away his blaster and grinned at Mumlak. “Good job, warden. I did not think that you had it in you. Get rid of the bodies. Make sure you make it appear as the two of them were murdered by some escaped inmates or something of that sort. Do not fail me, Mumlak. My sister can never learn the truth”.

  Mumlak stared forlornly at the dead body of Djimon and his deputy-warden. He mopped some nervous perspiration from his brow with the back of his hand and exchanged a guilty glance with Dr. Deltar. “Yes, my rajah. It will be as you command”, he meekly replied.

  CITY OF BLAKFALLS

  A cold drizzle dampened the capital city on the funereal day of The Royal Consort Djimon Leone Blackwood, making the sombre event more depressing than it already was. Djimon’s body was transported on a levitating hover-caisson throughout the streets of the city, hundreds of thousands of citizens had lined up to pay their last respects. The queen’s husband was an extremely well loved and known public figure. The handsome statesman was preserved in a well-lit crystal sarcophagus so that all could observe his body and his smooth mature face one final time.

  The funeral procession proceeded on foot along Kilmanjaro Boulevard, which was the throughway that lead directly to the Queen’s Capital Building, where the official funeral service was to take place within the hour. Queen Serenah Blakstorme, her Majesty and ruler of Ocean Imperial was bedecked in a long white hooded funeral gown with gold embroidered sleeves and neckline. The sorrowful tears in her eyes were well masked behind a pair of thick black sunglasses that hid her face. She decided not to wear any jewellery when she finally forced herself out of bed that morning but even in her bare plainness, she was spectacularly beautiful. Walking beside her in a protective manner was Juliana, who used her built-in short range scanners to search the teeming throng for any danger that may harm her queen.

  I still cannot believe he is dead…… Serenah thought mournfully to herself as her eyes once again fell upon the caisson floating a few feet ahead of her. My love…..My sweet sweet love……

  Marching behind Serenah and Juliana was a full squadron of The Ocean Imperial Royal Black Sharks Unit, the military company in charge of protecting the empire against any invaders. They were an impressive and fearsome sight in their armoured black and blue battle suits gripping their blaster rifles.

  A splendidly dressed Khon lead the concession of dignitaries that had flown in from every corner of the queendom to pay their respects to Serenah’s beloved husband. Khon’s white suit was spotless and impeccably tailored to hide his bulging stomach. He wore several gold rings on his fingers that were encrusted with priceless blue diamonds. He had put on his best despondent face as he knew that the dozens of airborne digi-cams from every single media outlet in the continent, were recording every second and every single angle of the ongoing procession.

  That would be all I need. To have one of these floating recorders catch me with a smile on my face. Serenah is already suspicious of me. He thought silently.

  Some of the dignitaries that had walked alongside him included the Emperor Algeer Algar of Barca, the second largest country in the empire, Prime Minister Nagolat Ananda of Kenda, a small country that sat at the very end of the Indigo Ocean, the Duchess Dajmena Chad, the ruler of the nation known as Littaya was to Khon’s right, dabbing at her eyes with a silk handkerchief. President Hassat Mal of Unda was to his left and his dead father’s sister, The Countess of Downewater, trekked behind him. Even some of their political enemies had sent representatives to attend the funeral, such was the respect that Djimon carried when he was alive. King Shaka had sent his younger brother, Duke Shaba of Summertide, while the new pharaoh of Sandstorme, Prince Alooma Kane the Fourth, ordered two of his elder statesmen to make an appearance at the funereal. The flowing line of mourners had lined the boulevard right up to the golden gates of the magnificent building with its blue-tinged glass exterior known as the Queen’s Capital Building. The building was surrounded by three large glass domes which were the home office of Ocean Imperial’s Diplomatic Council.

  Captain Dawit stood ramrod straight at the lead position of a platoon of Castle Guardians who manned the Capital Building gates. The Guardians wore white funeral capes over their uniforms and golden ceremonial swords on their hips. Dawit ordered several of the Guardians to open the large gates as the queen and the funeral procession grew nearer. Serenah cringed inwardly as she passed through the gates alongside Djimon’s body, barely acknowledging Dawit and his Guardians who bowed their head respectfully at her presence.

  What is just five short years that I was here burying my parents? And now here I am again burying my husband.

  The squadron of Royal Black Sharks drew to a halt and stepped aside in order to allow the rest of the funeral procession to pass through the gates. Once Khon, the visiting dignitaries, members of the queen’s council and various members of the royal family members, including the Duchess of Darkwater and her husband walked through the gates, Dawit ordered them to be sealed. The public would have to settle on observing the funeral service via the immense holographic view screen that floated above the Capital Building. The digi-display screen was fifty-thousand square feet, which was more than adequate to ensure that all whom were in attendance would be able to witness Lord Djimon being put to rest.

  Serenah mounted the twenty-four steps that led into the entrance of the Capital Building, alongside her was Khon, other members of her family and Djimo
n’s twin sister, Djamona. Either side of the great steps were lined with uniformed officers from the Queen’s Ocean Brigade, their sharp navy blue uniforms in stark contrast to the sea of white funeral outfits worn by the passing mourners. Inside the Queen’s Capital Building was the Great Burial Rotunda. The eternal resting place of every deceased member of the Blakstorme family for the last thousand years including the remains of Serenah’s two miscarried children. Hanging from the glass enclosed dome of the rotunda was an incredible three dimensional display of ornate holo-globes that had shaped into a massive chandelier. Each multi-coloured globe carried the face of every single member of the royal family member buried in the solid gold crypts kept underneath the black marble floor. More importantly than just being solely an impressive visual display, each globe carried inside of it enough genetic material to clone their dead and bring them back into existence if the queen ever gave the order. Of course, even genetic cloning was not capable of true resurrection and if ever the situation came about that the crown was forced to execute such a grim command, the clone of the deceased would be something other than who that person truly had been in life.

  The entire funeral procession recessed into the Capital Building’s main auditorium for the final part of the ceremony. The queen solemnly approached her dead husband’s casket and placed a tender kiss on it before taking her seat in the front row between her brother and her sister-in-law. Grand Vizier Jarawa took to the stage to address the audience, wearing a dour visage and looking extremely serious in her long black robes.

  “Before we begin the funeral service to celebrate the life of his Royal Consort, Djimon Leone Blackwood. I ask that all present, please bow their heads and offer the Creator of all things a moment of silence”.

  ********************************************************************************************

  When she thought back to that sad day, those specific words spoken by the vizier were all that Serenah could recall about the funeral. The long walk to the Capital Building, the warm hugs from mournful family and friends, the state funeral wake that followed the service, it was a hollow blank for her. She had retreated to her royal suites the night after Djimon’s funeral and had not left. That was two days and nights ago.

  Serenah sat in her oval shaped plasti-glass jacuzzi tub and let the warm pulsing waters soothe her firm dark body. She had no idea how many hours she had spent sitting in the tub that morning but it mattered not. The jacuzzi’s micro-computer had been programmed to keep the water at a comfortable temperature indefinitely if needed be.

  It would be nice to just sit here for an eternity……I miss Djimon so much it bleeds…….

  A soft rapping on the doors of the comfort room interrupted her morbid musing.

  “Your Majesty?” She heard Juliana ask tentatively from behind the closed doors. “Are you alright?”

  Poor Juliana is worried that I have drowned myself in the tub. Serenah thought stonily to herself.

  “Door seal off”, she said aloud.

  “Yes, your grace”, the royal suite’s computer replied in a soothing male voice that emanated from the walls.

  The comfort room doors silently slid open and Juliana entered with a very concerned expression on her face. Her thick silver hair had been tied back into a kinky ponytail and she was wearing a skintight black bodysuit with silver sleeves. “Is there anything that I can get for you, your grace?”

  “No, thank-you”, Serenah replied and continued staring upwards at the grey skies that she could see through the room’s arched skylight window.

  Juliana watched her silently for a few moments before speaking again. “I will be right outside these doors if you need me, your majesty”, she turned to leave.

  Serenah eyes languidly dropped down from the skylight and fell on Juliana. “Stay with me for a moment, please”, she asked.

  “As you wish”, the humoid answered and sat down gracefully on the side of the tub. “The members of your Queen’s Council have been asking for you. When do you plan on returning?”

  Serenah resumed staring blankly up at the overcast skies once more. “I have not decided yet when I plan on returning to active duty”, she answered after a long pause. “Maybe never”, she added dully.

  The two of them sat in silence for several minutes.

  “May I have your permission to speak freely, Serenah?”

  Serenah nodded her agreement instead of answering.

  Juliana placed a consoling hand on the queen’s bare brown shoulder. “I have been your constant companion since your father the king, assigned me to you. Yet I cannot recall ever a time that I have since you so low. Not even following the death of your parents. But I think the sooner that you return to the throne the better you will feel. We both know that Lord Djimon would loathe to see you shuttered away like this”.

  Djimon has never seen me like this. She bitterly thought to herself. Even when father and mother died, I refused to show any emotion. I never wanted him see me as weak. Maybe it was because he was so much older than me. I never wanted him to see me as a child or somebody that was dependent. Especially after I was crowned queen…..but I loved him more than life itself……

  And it was that very thought that made it possible for her to finally get out of the jacuzzi. The young queen stood up in the tub and looked down at Juliana. “Pass me my robe, please. It is time for me to put the crown back on my head”.

  WATERS EDGE

  THE BLAKSTORME FAMILY ESTATE

  The five hundred acre estate sat in the heart of the magnificent Caramel Mountains overlooking the everlasting Indigo Ocean. The two story ebon-steel glass mansion gleaming in the mid-day sun was rich with character and the Blakstorme family history. Inside the sprawling home were multiple fireplaces that burned actual wood, six lavish bedrooms with skylights and nine foot ceilings, fourteen bathrooms, two full-sized holo-screen theatres, a large wine cellar and two gourmet kitchens. The surroundings of the estate included orchards, ponds, a manmade lake stocked with colourful fish, three swimming pools and two full functioning stables filed with priceless race horses. The Blakstorme family had purchased the land nine hundred years ago when they sold the original family estate that had been located six hundred kilometres away in Ebony Falls. It had been the birthplace of both Serenah and Khon.

  Rajah Khon and Grand Vizier were in his bedroom at the end of a large four poster bed having a ferocious round of sex. Jawara was on top of Khon and rode him relentlessly. Khon slapped the vizier’s thick brown behind in between his grunts of “Faster!” The two of them climaxed at the same time. Their bodies collapsed into one another sweaty and spent.

  “Each time is better than the last!” Jarawa heaved between panting breathes.

  Khon greedily palmed her small but firm breasts. He pinched her thick black nipples between his thumb and fore finger until they hardened.

  “Nobody fucks me like you do, Jarawa!”

  Jarawa playfully slapped his cheek. “And who else have you fucked today, Rajah Khon?”

  Khon bit her right nipple and smacked her ass cheek. “None of your damn business”, he replied with a laugh.

  There was a crystal bowl filled with colourful fruit sitting on the nightstand. Jarawa rolled over and plucked up a golden snapapple which she popped into her mouth. “Have you spoken to the queen since the funeral?”

  Khon reached for a goblet filled with wine that sat beside the fruit bowl and took a sip. “My sister? Why would I need to speak with her?” He scornfully asked.

  “Because you must not arouse her suspicions, Khon. She can never learn the truth of what truly happened to her husband”.

  Khon dismissed Jarawa’s concerns with a lazy wave of his hand. “Serenah is a silly cow. She will not figure out anything. She still has not figured out the truth about our parent’s death”.

  “You must continue as if everything is the same. If she were to start asking questions…..” Khon cut Jarawa off before she could finish. “There is nobody lef
t alive that could implicate me in Djimon’s death. That fat assistant of Mumlak’s and my two humoids were fed to the incinerators at the penitentiary”, he boasted.

  And I will dispose of you too if need be, woman!

  “What of Warden Mumlak?” The vizier asked cautiously.

  Khon snorted into his cup of wine. “I own that greedy bastard body and soul”. He downed the rest of his wine and clapped his hand loudly together. “Churchill!” He bellowed toward the closed bedroom doors.

  Not one moment later, the bedroom doors slid open and there stood a Roxide dressed in a black and white servant’s uniform, his long purple hair tied back into a ponytail. He bowed obediently before the queen’s brother. “How may I be of service, Rajah Khon?”

  “Bring us more wine, Churchill. And have the chef prepare a four course meal. I am famished!”