Blood of the Emperor (22 page)

Nonsense, of course,
Legate Xhu’chan scoffed. Still, any opportunity to take the army out of the monotonous flatlands of Chaenandria and their Southern Steppes was a welcome relief. The manticores had once been worthy opponents but the days of the great warrior clans were over. The presence of their army in that conquered region was largely an unnecessary result of over-cautious bureaucrats in the capital city. At least now he and his warriors were on the hunt for
what he considered easy prey. Betjarian had warned him that this horde of warriors in the north had managed to completely destroy a Legion of the Vash but Xhu’chan had studied the report on that battle. He knew that the defeated commander had lost because of a freakish failure of Aether on the battlefield. It was a mistake he would not repeat.

The Emperor had decreed that most of his military might should march northward and destroy these malcontents before any more damage could be done to the Imperial pride.
Well, let them come,
Xhu’chan thought. He would manage the job with the two Legions under his command and then the rest of the army could watch as he returned triumphantly with the heads of this Drakis rebel and each of his followers at the end of his Legions’ spears.

Or he would, he corrected himself, if K’yeran Tsi-M’harul, the Iblisi Inquisitor standing on the opposite side of the map table did not claim this Drakis a prisoner first. The presence of the Iblisi Quorum, appointed to advise the Legate on this campaign at the direct instruction of Ghentar Omris Sjei-Shurian, was both a mystery and an irritant to Legate Xhu’chan. The Inquisitor had never interfered with his command except for the occasional urging to press forward with more zeal. He knew that she was unnecessary to the military success of the campaign. He also knew that if she ever did make a request of him, he would do as she asked. To not honor her advice would be a mistake, possibly the last he would ever make.

Xhu’chan turned his gaze from the Inquisitor opposite him toward the war-mage and beckoned him inside the tent. “You are…?”

“War-mage Kleidon,” the elf in the armored robes said with a bow. Kleidon was old for his calling, his lips drawn back from his pointed teeth whose ends were worn down to rounded points. “I am assigned dominion over the sixth Cohort Proxis of Centurai Mehuin.”

“The scout Centurai, of course,” Xhu’chan nodded. He knew Kleidon as a modestly talented mage who was slowly aging beyond usefulness. The years tended to make him talk more and do less. “My apologies, War-mage. My command is a vast one and I am not yet familiar with every detail of its elements.”

“We have spoken before,” Kleidon said with an edge of insult.

“And if we are to ever speak to anyone again, you had best state
your business here,” Xhu’chan said, the obvious implication just beneath the surface of his placid voice.

“An Octian of our third Centurai has reach Shellsea,” Kleidon said. “Do you know it, Legate?”

“Yes, it is the next decent port city up the Shadow Coast from this wrenched backwater.” Xhu’chan remained unimpressed. “What of it?”

“The Octian reports that they found the city garrison encamped outside the city walls and apparently unable to return to their barracks,” Kleidon continued.

“Unable?” Xhu’chan snarled. “What could possibly have prevented them from taking the city again by force?”

“Word is that they fled the city, Legate,” the war-mage responded.

“Fled?” Xhu’chan blustered. “Deserted their posts?”

“And why would they flee the city?” the Inquisitor spoke up suddenly.

The war-mage hesitated, his dull eyes fixed on the Legate.

“Don’t be stupid, Kleidon,” Xhu’chan barked. “Answer the question!”

Kleidon smiled, exposing his dulled teeth as he bowed. “The garrison commander reports that they were driven from the city by a dragon.”

A long moment of uncomprehending silence descended on the tent. The Inquisitor stared at the war-mage. The Legate’s mouth went slack. He tilted his head slightly to the right as though he had not heard properly.

“A
what?
”

“A dragon, my Lord Legate,” the war-mage affirmed.

“There are no dragons in Aeria,” Xhu’chan asserted.

“It seems there are now,” Kleidon shrugged.

“They must have been drugged or enchanted,” Xhu’chan said, shaking his head. “Some sort of trick by the rebels.”

“The scouts report that every elven warrior they interrogated has given the same account,” Kleidon continued. “An immense monstrous creature resembling a dragon descended into the central square of the city breathing out flames and destruction before it. The commander ordered the garrison to regroup outside the city walls and prepare to retake the city and attack the creature. However, once they were prepared they found that the fold runes they had planned to use to reenter
the city had been rendered useless. Several attacks by the garrison force were repulsed by rebel warriors, who had by then manned their abandoned defenses on the city walls. As the garrison commander was concerned that the dragon might return, he determined to make camp outside the city and send word for reinforcements.”

“A brave commander indeed,” Xhu’chan mocked, spitting on the ground in his disgust. “I suppose he’s just been waiting for someone to come along and salvage his honor for him?”

“As it happened, Legate, a dragon
did
return,” Kleidon said with a slight smile. “Not the same as the first–a
different
dragon.”

“A
second
dragon?” the Legate exclaimed. “Not possible!”

“This one was seen both by the remaining garrison and the scout Octian as well,” Kleidon replied. “And, might I add, that
I
saw it through the eyes of my Proxi who was there at the time. It was a most astonishing experience. It was a creature of unprecedented size with enormous leathery wings and a long fluked tail. It was light and dark gray in its markings. Its talons were taller than an elf. There was also a rider—human, I believe—seated just ahead of the wings on the creature’s neck. It, too, descended into Shellsea and for a time vanished from view. Then it, too, rose up into the sky, only this time the northern gates of the city opened and a caravan left the city.”

“A caravan?” Xhu’chan squinted slightly as he twisted his neck, trying to get his vertebrae comfortable again. “You mean a military column?”

“Hardly, my Lord Legate,” Kleidon corrected. “Females, old males, children, wagons of goods, and…”

“Pilgrims,” K’yeran laughed.

“We shall retake the city,” the Legate affirmed. “Kleidon, inform my aide that I want to see each of the Legion commanders and their staff at once. We shall advance up the coast with both Legions, retake the city and…”

“No, Legate Xhu’chan,” the Inquisitor said with a chuckle in her voice. “You certainly shall not.”

The Legate turned slowly toward the Inquisitor. “And why should I not?”

K’yeran turned to the old war-mage. “You said this ‘caravan’ was being led by someone astride a dragon?”

“I saw it through the eyes of my Proxi,” Kleidon nodded.

“Then, Xhu’chan,” the Inquisitor said to the Legate, “there is no need to retake Port Shellsea. “Our prize is not to be found behind the barricaded walls of an insignificant port. You can retake this outpost of Imperial Might later. Your orders were to search for and find this army of the rebellion so that you may avenge the destruction of your brother warriors and the honor of the Emperor. This army is not in Shellsea and you now know how to find them.”

“And how is that?” Xhu’chan demanded.

“The same way you find an anthill, Legate…you follow the ants.”

“You want me to follow ants?” Xhu’chan puzzled.

“The dragon knows where this rebel army is located,” said K’yeran, her gaze falling onto the map in front of her. Her long finger reached out from her robe, pointing at Shellsea on the map then drawing northward along the coast toward Nordesia. “The caravan follows the dragon. All we have to do is follow the caravan. You should continue to move your army northward. In the meanwhile, you should be relieved to know that I and my Quorum will be leaving you for the time being on a little expedition of our own. If we find your rebel army…we’ll let you know.”

Urulani felt a chill run through her that was deeper than the cold of the thin air around her. She was struggling to remain awake. The last six days had been exhausting as she had moved from village to town along the shoreline of the Bay of Thetis. Everywhere she had gone, the people in the villages had rallied to her tales of Drakis and the great army’s victories in the northland. Some had remained in their homes, many had balked at her call but many more had listened to her message. It was with satisfaction that she saw the lines of new believers heading eastward along the roads and sometimes by ship, all yearning to become a part of the Drakis Uprising, as they had called it. All were eager to do their part and entire caravans had moved along the coast toward Shellsea and the coastal road north toward Gorganta Bay. They sang songs as they traveled about the “Drakis Dawn” and the “War of the Prophet,” their words unclear to her as she flew above
them but the intent of their hearts evident. Urulani was exhausted and desperately in need of sleep but the sight below had brought her back to wakefulness.

She leaned out from the back of the dragon, gazing down. They were flying amid towering clouds that rose around them. Kyranish rode the currents that raged between the canyons of white in the sky, drifting with his wings extended from updraft to updraft. It was a violent, rough ride for Urulani but the dragon appeared to be enjoying the respite from having to beat his wings constantly against the air. It was making Urulani uneasy, a sensation which was completely foreign to her on the deck of a ship regardless of the hostility of the sea.

It was not the sky but the sight below that sent a sudden shiver up her spine.

Urulani had gotten good at recognizing landmarks on the ground far below. She had little concept of how high she was above the ground. In her mind, each time the dragon rose into the sky, it was not so much that she was getting higher as the ground was shrinking beneath her. The landscape below became an incredibly detailed map. It was fascinating to her and she enjoyed keeping track of their progress as they flew, picking up more details of each place along the way.

It was the details she had just noticed around Port Dog, now ten thousand feet below her that had caught her attention. There were over a hundred patches of tents in rows and columns that were too neat and too square. Flashes from a fold portal winked at her again and again as columns of warriors—antlike in their movements—wound out from its maw.

“It’s already more than a Legion in size,” Urulani murmured. “They’re coming for us.”

Urulani reached down with her hand, placing it against the neck of Kyranish.

“Yes, Urulani, I see them, too,’ the dragon responded as the clouds vanished from the sky which had suddenly changed from midday to dusk. The warriors below them were changed, too, appearing as a dark blight spreading across the land. “The elves make war on us once more.”

“They have already reached the coast,” Urulani said, weariness
and despair washing over her. “We’ve got to warn the pilgrims. We’ve got to stop them before…before…”

Urulani slumped forward in her harness, shock and exhaustion overtaking her.

Kyranish obeyed, pressing northward along the coast. Day passed into night as the dragon continued north, but Kyranish did not feel the need to awaken his exhausted companion. The dragon spotted the streams of refugees moving northward along the coast.

Kyranish had nearly reached Watchman Cove at the northern end of Gorganta Bay when, quite abruptly, he raised his head. Then, silently, he banked sharply eastward, changing his course.

He turned so smoothly that the sleeping Urulani never noticed that they were no longer heading toward the encampment.

The Gift

K
’YERAN TSI-M’HARUL STOOD on the open and vacant plain. Dust and thin smoke drifted past her in the evening breeze as she surveyed the great expanse around her. For as far as she could see, the prairie grasses were trampled flat, in many places no longer there at all. There were stone rings for campfires laid practically to the horizon. There were a number of wagons with broken wheels abandoned here and there as well as pieces of discarded items everywhere she looked. Broken pots, cracked skillets, empty baskets, and tracks everywhere representing every kind of creature from manticores to gnomes, and more humans than she thought still existed.