Blood of the Emperor (28 page)

“Just GUESS!” Xhu’chan yelled.

The captain swallowed hard. “I believe they are headed toward what is called Lakes Basin. It is a natural gathering spot about forty leagues north of the Wells.”

“They should have made contact with the Drakis main force by now,” War-mage Kleidon observed.

“Unless their army is moving southward slower than we expected,” Xhu’chan said, considering the map. “This human is not just moving his army but all of his support and supplies. That would be nothing
compared to moving the entire rabble of families that are following them as well.”

“It would appear that the fears of the Emperor were exaggerated,” responded Kleidon.

“Or perhaps misinformed,” Xhu’chan said, straightening up. “It is certain, however, that he will be caught between the waters of Thetis and the Mournful Mountains. If they retreat into Nordesia with the aid of the goblins then we chase them all the way to the Westwall Cliffs. If they retreat into the Mistral Peninsula then we’ll chase them back to Port Glorious.”

“Then we have them,” Kleidon hissed with satisfaction.

“Yes, all we have to do is find them,” Xhu’chan nodded.

“And perhaps not even that,” said an irritatingly familiar voice behind him.

“Just when I thought you had left me, K’yeran,” Xhu’chan said as he turned.

The Inquisitor smiled as she entered the tent. Captain Zhan’sei straightened a bit more. Xhu’chan noted beads of sweat forming near the point of his elongated skull as the Iblisi operative came closer.

“I’m only pleased that I found you at all,” K’yeran said in a dangerous purr. “But I’ll spare you the requisite pleasantries. I am only here in transit to the south and will be continuing my journey within the hour. I am leaving these military matters in your capable hands as I have other duties to attend. That said, however, I thought you should know that I and my Quorum have visited the remains of the main encampment of this phantom army that you have yet to see.”

“Where is it, K’yeran?” It was formed as a question but Xhu’chan spoke it as a command.

“As you were so disposed as to ask then I shall gladly be disposed to answer,” K’yeran said, stepping toward the map on the table. “I passed the caravan you have been tracking and it led us, as you suggested into an area known to the goblins as Flat’s Gap. It is a wide plain of flatlands that sit between the Goblin Peaks on the west and the Mournful Mountains to the east. We’ve rune marked it for you in several places. March northeast from this Lakes Basin and, if you can manage to get within fifty leagues or so of our marks, you should be
able to find it. That caravan you’ve been tracking certainly did. They should be there by now.”

“They’re that far north so soon?” Captain Zhan’sei blurted out. “That’s not possible!”

“Possible or not, they were approaching that place when I passed them,” K’yeran said.

“Tsaj!”

“By the Will of the Emperor, Legate!”

“Find the runner and send him back with orders to bring up the Legions,” Xhu’chan said, his eyes still fixed on the map.

“All this way, Legate?” Tsaj asked.

“Do you have a problem hearing, Tsaj?” Xhu’chan shouted. “Yes, all this way! The entire Army of Imperial Vengeance is coming this way as quickly as the folds will bring them. Our two Legions of the Imperial East are days ahead of them all at least for the time being. Perhaps you would rather I sat around waiting for the rest of the army to catch up to us and rob us of the glory of capturing this Drakis renegade?”

“No, Legate!” Tsaj said as he bowed stiffly and backed out of the command tent in a hurry.

“If you will excuse me, Legate,” K’yeran said with a needle-toothed smile, “I must return to Rhonas Chas and deliver the truth of our investigations to the Keeper of my order.”

“Of course,” Xhu’chan said with a dismissive wave of his hand.

“I wish you the best of luck in finding your war,” K’yeran nodded as she stepped out of the tent.

Xhu’chan barely noticed her departure. “Captain Zhan’sei! Prepare to move your command. We’ve got to press north! Much farther north!”

Below the Horizon

U
RULANI STOOD ON THE WALL of the conquered subatria and gazed out over the treetops of the jungle below. Through the canopy she could make out the fires of the encampment, glittering as though she were looking down on the stars. These ranged toward the horizon as far as she could see. She could hear the sounds of laughter, music, and conversation rising from below.

The encampment had found a home.

Not a real home,
Urulani thought as she frowned. She knew it could not last. After the tumult of moving all the pilgrims, their families, and their supplies on the incredible forced march from the Mistral Peninsula down the length of Ephindria, setting up camp for anything more than a single night had the feeling of permanence. Each of the various camps—from Abritas to Quabet—settled in the locations assigned them by the Council of the Prophet around the conquered subatria and its inverted Aether Well. Each camp quickly began to settle and some, for the first time in many weeks, began to talk about the wood, grasses, clay, and stone around them with an eye toward building a more lasting life for themselves and their families.

This optimism continued to grow with the successive flipping of five additional Aether Wells located in a rough perimeter between two to three leagues of the first inverted by Drakis and Braun the day before. Braun’s conjurers moved through all the camps mending items,
purifying water, and using their renewed strength to lift everyone’s spirits. Now, with the coming of evening and the labors of the day completed, the rising relief overwhelmed the camp. Music, dancing, and feasting spread through each of the camps.

There was no music in Urulani. No song.

Those who comprised the Army of the Prophet would be departing from this newly settled land the next morning through the reinvigorated folds of Braun’s conjurers. Warriors would be separated once again from their families and strike once more toward battle and death.

Urulani turned and walked along the top of the subatria wall. She stopped at last facing the fading sunset to the west.

“What do you see, Urulani?” came the quiet voice behind her.

“The setting sun,” Urulani answered. The voice behind her was a familiar one although she could not place it at the moment.

“That is what is there but it is not what you see.” The voice was that of another woman, deep and slightly sad.

“One last battle,” Urulani answered, her dark, bare shoulders slumping at the thought. “There beyond the horizon lies a city and everything depends upon our taking it. The lives of all these people…”

“And so many more beyond your sight,” the woman interrupted. “The lives of all those in the city you seek to take. The lives of all those nations watching what will happen to Drakis and his warriors as they charge against the walls of Tjarlas. The lives of the elves as well as those who oppose them. There is much that you see, Li-li—but so much more beyond your sight.”

Urulani turned to face the woman. She stood on the subatria wall about four steps away from the warrior woman. She wore a dress of deepest blue covered in a hooded cloak. The woman’s face lay in shadow yet Urulani felt no distress at her presence.

“Who are you?” Urulani asked quietly.

“An old friend, Li-li,” the woman answered. “You see the battle that is to come but you do not look far enough. You see victory and you see defeat but you do not look far enough. Can you see how victories right before you often sow the seeds of a bitter fall beyond your sight? Can you take comfort when tragedies unseen, hidden from your notice have laid the foundations of a triumph you claim for yourself? The
world continues on, the sun rises and sets, and the stars march their predetermined courses through the sky in that time and place beyond the victors and the fallen.”

“I don’t understand,” Urulani said.

“Look to that place, Li-li,” the woman said. “Look to a place beyond where you have seen. Your success will not be found in the battle, Li-li, but in the world you choose beyond it.”

In that moment, the woman was gone.

“Drakis,” shouted Gyorg. The human barely had any breath left in him as he ran toward the Lyric.

“Yes, General Marshal Odelm,” she replied, scrambling to her feet. She stood as tall as possible in her leather flying coat and cobbled-together armor. She had been sleeping on the ground in the shade of her dragon as she believed any good warrior of the prophecy should do among her warrior army.

“It’s the elves!” Gyorg gasped out the words between gulping breaths. “They’ve come! It must be their entire army! I’ve sent out scouts and they haven’t found any end to them, Drakis!”

The Lyric nodded with a slight pout. “It is as I have expected, Gyorg.”

“What can we do?” the General Marshal whined.

“We do what we must, General!” the Lyric replied firmly. “And stop that sobbing. It is unbecoming in an officer of the Drakis Army! I shall consult with the gods!”

“Gods?” Gyorg blurted out. “
What
gods?”

But by then, the Lyric had placed her hand on the dragon’s neck and closed her eyes in silent reverie.

Ephranos felt Karan—the Lyric—come into his inner world. Today he made his home in a place of endless warm sands under a warm blue sky. It was one of the dragon’s favorite places and he held it for his own enjoyment on rare occasions. For some reason be felt it appropriate to
honor Karan with this place today and experience it himself again although he did not know why.

The dragon could see the voices in Karan’s mind fade away as she reclaimed herself. He craned his neck around to look at her, anticipating that she would direct a question to him. He was surprised, however, that Karan seemed to be considering something far away.

“Is it time?” she asked the wind.

Ephranos waited to hear a response but if the wind answered her, the dragon did not hear it.

“Thank you,” Karan said, her eyes welling up with tears. “I’ve seen more than I should see. I would like very much to sleep but I must finish this one last chore first.”

The wind moaned over the sands in reply.

Karan nodded and then turned to the dragon. “We have to ride into battle, my friend. I do not believe we are coming back.”

Ephranos raised the lid over his right eye in astonishment. “Our dragonkind fear no death in the world; our souls live in this place and will come again into the world of mortal men, but I fear for you, my Karan. Why must we battle?”

“For the sake of my own soul,” Karan answered with a wistful smile. “For the sake of all our souls.”

Ephranos raised his great horn-covered head. “To whom were you speaking just now?”

“And old friend,” Karan replied wistfully. “One who is telling me it is time to come home,” Karan replied.