Fate of an Empire (Talurian Empire Trilogy Book 1) (10 page)

The crowd
roared as the line of prisoners marched into the town square. These were the
last of the men who had destroyed their city, and the people wanted blood!

Leading the
line was Ceth, followed by five other soldiers that had also lived through the
horrid interrogations. Two guards dragged an unconscious Dageros behind them.
They couldn’t have the man doing any more of his magic during the execution.

They were led
to a long, raised platform that had been thrown together by the local
carpenters the night before. Along the walkway there stood seven sturdy logs,
standing on end. Each man was roped to their assigned post and waited for the
display to begin. Two said prayers under their breath. One openly cried out,
desperate to be freed from his situation. Another just held a stupid smile on
his face, like the whole thing was the funniest joke, clearly in a delusional
state of mental survival.

The last of
the unnamed soldiers, put in killing order right before Dageros and Ceth, who
were going to be last, was as cool as ice. No emotion on his face, his eyes steady—a
tall man of middle age with arms like an ox. He made the impressively built Ceth
look small.

Horns and
drums started and the crowd cheered even louder.

It was time.

The General
was making his entry into the square. A large parade of soldiers came forward,
marching to the rhythm of the drums, followed by a company of newly appointed
personal guards in dress uniform. Next in line were the Honor Captains, tailed
by Thandril and Captain Arteus. When all had reached their places, the horns
started to play a new tune.

An announcer
stood from a viewing area that had been set up for the officers. “I give you
the great and honorable, General Saris of the mighty Talurian army. And,
accompanying him, his radiantly beautiful fiancé!”

The people
applauded as the two walked into viewing.

Saris was in
dress uniform like his guards, with a ceremonial sword hanging at his side. No
doubt he carried one or two real weapons secreted away on his body—never at
ease. Amira was in a gorgeous flowing dress of light blue silk with silver
threading, attractively hanging off her shoulders. The people clapped and
clapped. Saris waved to all of them. He ate it up, loving the attention, and on
his arm was a woman beautiful enough for a man of his status and position.

*
* *

Rurik watched
the two take their seats.

She doesn’t
look happy
.

He stood off
to the side of the courtyard. Public butchery wasn’t for him. The crowd cheered
even louder when the executioner started up the stairs. He was covered head to
toe in black, carrying a long curved dagger at his side. Without hesitation, he
pulled the first man’s head back and raised the blade to his throat.

Saris sprung
to his feet. “Any last attempt of giving me some kind of information that I can
use?”

Tears streamed
down the man’s face. His eyelids were swollen from the restless night. He shook
his head. No. In an instant, the life seeped from his eyes and a spray of blood
colored the floor in front of him. The empty body sagged into the restraints,
and the executioner moved onto the next.

Saris repeated
the question two more times. And two more men refused to answer, quickly
falling to the slayer’s blade.

The crowd
eagerly awaited the fourth victim’s blood. Each kill was more satisfying than
the last. They were mourning their family and friends and these men were the
outlet for their hatred and bitterness.

The smiling
man came next.

Again, Saris
motioned toward the man and repeated his question. “Do you have anything to
say? Any information at all?” The General didn’t really expect any of them to break
their silence.

The prisoner
just smiled. The executioner raised his blade.

“Wait!” The
prisoner shouted.

The crowd
quieted.

Ceth and the
large man at his side turned their heads to their comrade. “What do you think
you are doing?” Their eyes burned.

“General, what
would happen to me if I were to give you some substantial information?
Something that would drastically help you in this war?” The man asked, without
losing his same smile.

“Quiet
soldier!” Ceth shouted.

“Well,” Saris
smacked his lips and paused. “I would see to it that you were set free.”

“How can I
trust you?” The prisoner asked.

“Will you just
shut up and die!” yelled the giant man.

The smiling
man turned his head, “I’m just trying to save my ass, Ryon. You should have
done it sooner.”

Ryon flexed
his arms, pulling at the restraints. “You are making a mistake!”

“Tell me, sir.
What is your name?” Saris asked. He paid no attention to the prisoners’
squabble.

“My friends
call me, Jol. I think we can be friends.” His grin stretched across his entire
face.

“Well, Jol.
I’m going to need something from you now. How do I know if you even hold
secrets inside that small head?” Saris played the crowd, and they joined in
with laughter and cheering.

“How about the
fact that the main body of King Melidarius’ army, joined by the other tribes,
is making its way
here
, this very moment?” He finished his sentence,
with a taunting nod toward Ceth.

“Ryon, stop
this now!” Ceth roared.

Ryon took a
deep breath and, focusing his strength, snapped the ropes tying his arms.
Before anyone could react, his hand had reached Jol’s throat and, with a flick
of his wrist, destroyed the small man’s windpipe.

Jol held his
throat, gasping, and making hair tingling, whistling sounds, failing to get any
air into his lungs.

The Archers
along the perimeter let arrows fly. One hit Ryon, sticking into his thigh. He
grunted and reached down to snap the arrow off close to the skin.

Rurik shouted
for the guards to respond. Within seconds, the courtyard was a frantic mess.
Saris ordered two of his personal guards to take Amira back into the Keep and threw
an urgent look toward Thandril.

The druid was
into the air and flying north before the thought could be put into words. Had
Jol been telling the truth?

Rurik reached
the platform in time to see Ryon hurl the executioner onto the cobbled square
below. Rurik sidestepped the black-clad man’s falling body and mounted the
platform. Ryon had freed Ceth and was fighting off anyone who attempted to get
onto the stage while the commander untied Dageros.

A townsperson
stepped out of the crowd. His face covered by a heavy cloth hood. He swung a
sword out from his coat, catching a guard in the chest. Rurik countered with
his own strike only to have Ryon block his blow, the giant man wielding one of
the large wooden posts from the execution platform as a club.

Ryon swung it
wildly, taking down multiple men. The unknown peasant motioned for the
prisoners to follow and tossed around more heavy cloaks. Ryon released the log
into the crowd causing more of a stampede. With ease, the four men disappeared
into the madness.

*
* *

“Damn it!”
Saris slammed his fist on the table. “How could they just get away?”

“Someone
helped them. It was most likely the other prisoner that escaped.” Rurik said.

“Is that an
excuse?” Saris eyed the corporal, waiting for the right response.

“No, sir.
There is no excuse. Just thought it might be a good lead to start the search.”

“Agh! You
aren’t going to find them!” Saris hit his fist again. “I just want to know if
that smiling jackass knew what he was talking about before he died, or if he
was just trying to weasel out of his execution. Not like he would have lasted
long after I turned him over to the people of the city. He should be grateful he
died quickly.”

Saris moved to
the door, “That is all for now, Corporal. It is meaningless to discuss this any
longer. We will wait for Thandril’s return. Goodnight.”

*
* *

The chilled,
early-morning breeze danced in through the window, nipping at the General.
Saris opened his eyes, hazily looking around the room. He threw the blankets
off of him and slid his legs over the end of his bed. He rubbed his hands over
his face.

A damn hard
couple of weeks.

He had tried
to convince Amira to stay with him during the night, but she refused, claiming
a moral conviction against staying with a man before she was married. He knew
she was just going through her varied excuses to not be with him. Well, she
would be married to him soon. She wouldn’t be able to dodge him for much longer.

She would be
his—maybe a big wedding in the grand hall of the Emperor’s palace. If his rank
granted him anything in the damn Talurian court, it was the privilege to use
the vast grounds and ballrooms.

He wrapped
himself in an expensive fur robe that he had taken from some unknown guest’s
suite. The nobility of this outland’s city sure had a taste for the more
luxurious items. One of the very few places he had been outside the capital
with indulgences like this, he thought, popping a crisp grape into his mouth.

A tray of
fruit and bread had been quietly delivered to his suite before he stirred. A
chunk of bread had already been torn off. He would have to talk to the overseer
in the kitchen. One cannot have the slaves stealing—just greedy. He was sure
they were given sufficient food.

Someone leaned
into the corner of the room, hidden in shadows. They cleared their throat,
“Sir.”

It was an
unmistakable voice. “Thandril! How come you didn’t wake me? How long have you
been back?”

“I did wake
you. Who do you think opened the window?”

Saris grinned.
“So…what did you find?”

Thandril leveled
his gaze with his master. “It’s true. An army is coming, and far bigger than
ours. We have maybe seven days. I flew north all day, searching. Near nine
o’clock I came over a mountain and before me stretched a sea of campfires and
nearly ten thousand tents. They are slow moving at that size, so the discovery
now
does
give us a chance of to form a strong defensive stance, but we
are severely outnumbered. The armies of the island are against us. And they
carry metal weapons—Merkadian weapons.”

Saris was
speechless. He went inside himself for words. He found few. “We may have
started this war, but they anticipated it with a deadly foresight. We must
prepare.”

A fast rider
was sent out a moment later, bound for Talur, carrying a hand-written letter
from the General, sealed with his signet. Saris had to warn Emperor Tymedious
of invasion.

There would be
no illusion of ignorance when Melidarius’ army arrived – it was too late to
sacrifice the people of the city to misdirect him. They had heard Jol’s words
before he died. They didn’t need to know if it was true or not. They wouldn’t
be around to find out.

The city was
in utter disarray. What little rebuilding had taken place was torn down and
carried away in wagons and on donkeys and horses—materials to start someplace
new. Complete evacuation of all people except the military and a large group of
slaves, kept from leaving with their masters, took place. Someone needed to
keep things going around the Keep, and no soldier could be spared.

“Looks like a
bunch of ants scurrying around out there. All running up and down the streets.
Bumping into each other, scared and confused. I’m glad I was never one of the flock,
one of the sheep—I’ve always been a leader. A predator. A…what do you call it?
From those books? Ahh…a lion! Yes, that is what I am.” Saris stared out the
window. 

“Now, look
inside the walls of the Keep.” He pointed to the soldiers pulling old trebuchets
out from the rarely used city garrison. “They require some work, but they
should be up and going by the time we need them.” Soldiers were inside the
smithy helping out with anything they could. Giant spikes were being sharpened
to fashion another barrier around the Keep to fence in the overflow soldiers.
The Keep was designed for only two thousand or so soldiers. Saris’ army neared
seven thousand.

Saris turned
from the window. “Rurik, thousands of men from all over this island will come
over that northern horizon soon. Thandril flew a direct route from where he
found them and he noted many topographical obstacles in their way. His best
guess puts them within seven days of Hillsford.” Saris paced back and forth in
front of the seated Rurik, who had just listened so far, not making a comment.

Rurik’s idea
of General Saris had changed significantly since getting closer to him—the man
enjoyed the sound of his own voice, enjoyed intimidating people, and enjoyed making
a show. Rurik had yet to see the master tactician and strategist that he had dreamt
of meeting. Saris was a brute. A bully. He stood behind his legendary soldiers,
iron weaponry, and advanced technologies. One day, someone is going to come
along with a bigger, stronger sword and cut right through him.

He did have
something in that druid, though. Thandril was something special.

“They must
have planned for my assassination to cause disruption within the army. Without
me in the picture, things would be grim indeed.”

There goes
his soaring ego.

“Sir,” Rurik
finally spoke up, “Why Hillsford? Why attack here?”

“Well, I have
had a lot of thought about that. It’s a relatively minor city in our empire,
but it is the most direct route to Talur. I think this is a straight forward
rush—a massive strike right through the heart of our empire. I don’t think
there is any cunning plan or hidden diversion. Melidarius wants to be the alpha
male on this island and, by pure force, is going to try and bring us down.”
Rurik kept listening.

Why has
Saris asked me here?

“Fascinating…”
Rurik humored him. “So, what is it you wanted to see me about? Or are we just
going to talk about the coming conflict?”

“Oh, no. You
will not be here when the fighting starts.” Saris said.

Where am I
going to be?

“I have a
special mission for you.” Saris grinned. “You have met my fiancé, Amira,
right?”

“Yes, sir.”
You
bastard
. “Charming girl.”

“Yes, indeed.
Looks like she’ll be a real pleaser in the bed, eh?” Saris winked at Rurik.

They both
laughed. Rurik forced his.

“What does she
have to do with my mission?” Rurik asked.

“It’s her and
my boy, Archaos. They need to be very far from here when the fighting starts. That
is where you come in. I have acquired a wagon and two horses for you. You are
going to pose as a merchant traveling to Talur for a nice vacation with your
wife and newborn son. Get it?” Saris winked. “I would like you to pick two more
men to go with you—one posing as your business partner and another acting as
your slave attendant.”

Time with that
amazing woman, Rurik thought. “Interesting, sir. But why the secrecy? Why not
just send me with a convoy of lancers? The journey would surely be faster.”

“It would be
faster, but I have many enemies within the other houses of Talur. Many attempts
have been made on my life over the years. I am sure they have spies within my
own army, waiting for me to take a wrong step. If they knew my future wife and
my only son were traveling out on the open rural roads of the empire, without my
personal guards and I—Well, I can only think the outcome to be unimaginable.”

“Very well, I
will do it. For you, sir, it would be an honor.”
Give that woman some time
away from you.
Rurik rose from his seat. “When would you like us to leave?”

“If yesterday were
an option, I would take it,” Saris said.

“Okay, I will gather
the men and see to the provisions for the trip. We should be ready to go before
the noon meal.” Rurik saluted and turned to leave.
Who should I take along?

*
* *

The decision
was obvious after a second thought. How better of a way to repay Private Galro
and Gleb for their courage and leadership in the Kitamite attack and aftermath,
then get them away from the fast approaching conflict? Gleb already looked the
part, since it was his life, but private Galro looked uncomfortable in his new
tunic and trousers. He was a “rough-around-the-edges” soldier, not a city
merchant. He wanted his uniform—wanted to blend in.

There was one
other matter to see too. There would be another man on this little caravan, but
Rurik didn’t see the harm in not telling Saris.

Rurik walked
over to the detention quarters. “Where can I find Private Holm?”

The little man
at the front desk stared hard at him. “Who is asking? I haven’t heard he was
allowed visitors. That usually comes in paper form, before the soldiers get
seen.”

Rurik put his
assertive face on. “I am Corporal Rurik Kaster, the arresting officer of
Private Klaric Holm. I am here to question him.”

The man
responded back in his most condescending voice. “Very well, he is down the hall
to the left. Cell seventeen.”

“Thank you.”
Rurik nodded to the man.

*
* *

“Hey! Get up!”
Rurik yelled through the peephole of the prison door.

“Go away,
slave bitch! I’m not hungry.” Klaric shouted back, waving his hand at the door.
He was lying on a thin cot in the corner of the room. His face toward the wall.

“Klaric, it’s
me. Rurik.”

Klaric spun
around on his cot and leapt to his feet. He ran to the door and spit through
the opening. “I don’t want anything to do with you! I can’t believe you had me
thrown in jail! How long were you planning on leaving me in here? A couple
days? A week?”

Rurik wiped
the saliva from his cheek. “You were drunk and going to get yourself hurt or
worse. You needed to cool down and get away from everything for a little
while.”

Klaric made a
sarcastic laugh. “Oh! So you did this
for
me
? How kind… Asshole.
I was in here with only the memory of
your
brother’s death to comfort
me. Then almost burned alive when the attack started. Thanks. It was so cozy.
You think about him much? Or too busy with your new master, General Saris?”

“Shut up. I
came here to get you out. A massive army is coming here and from what I can
guess, will raze this place to the ground. I am on a mission for Saris—”

Klaric
chuckled, “Of course.”

Rurik ignored
him. “I am not supposed to take you, but I’m going to sneak you out on our
wagon. If you’ll go. I’m sorry. For everything. I took out my frustration with
the past weeks’ troubles out on the wrong people. I truly apologize.”

Klaric looked
at him. Silence hung between them for a few long moments. “Fine, get me the
hell out of here!”

*
* *

Rurik and the
men were loading the covered wagon when Saris and Amira were spotted coming out
of the main citadel. Klaric had already been tucked away behind some of the
large barrels carrying food and weapons. Rurik noted that Amira looked the
happiest she had in weeks—getting away from that man.

Galro and Gleb
knew about Klaric and had both been warned not to let Amira know about him
until Rurik had some time to feel her out, whether or not she would mind him
sneaking along.

A slave
carried the luggage for Amira. Galro stopped him at the back of the wagon and
took the bags inside himself. The woman seemed to always have the baby and if
someone else attempted to take care of him for a little while, she would appear
agitated. She really was falling in love with that little boy.

“Now, my dear,
you need to be very careful on the road. It is dangerous.” Saris cautioned her.
Like she had never been outside the city in her life.

Galro and Gleb
jumped up into the back of the wagon while Amira wanted to sit up front for the
first leg of the trip.

“I’ll be fine,”
She said back to him, not even looking in his direction. She turned toward
Rurik, with those big, beautiful eyes, and gave him a look of,
please get
going
.

“We will take
good care of her, sir,” Rurik said.

Saris ignored
him. His manner and tone changed, hardened. “Amira…enjoy your last few weeks of
freedom. I’ll come for you soon. Then you will be my wife, and you will do as I
say…”

Rurik heard
enough.

He flicked the
reins without waiting for Saris to finish up his heartfelt goodbye. The wagon
jerked forward and made its way past the gate of the Keep and out through the
main city. Saris didn’t wait to watch it leave. He had to get ready for what
was coming. He had to find a way to win because he didn’t know the taste of
defeat—yet.