Fate of an Empire (Talurian Empire Trilogy Book 1) (13 page)

Lasal’s eyes
were burning brightly. He hummed a soft tune and placed his hands on either
side of Kaillum’s head.

“Okay.
Everyone, join hands. Lasal, direct my jump.” Taverous said.

Connecting
with Lasal, Taverous blinked the men into thin air, leaving the river bank
empty and silent.

*
* *

“Be careful,
Taverous, you always side with the losing team.” The undead leader waved his
hand in the air, dismissing the hazy, viewing portal.

The death mage
had taken Captain Barolas’ body and raised an army from the bodies of the
massacred Talurians. He was now leading them south, toward his, as of this
moment, unknowing ally, General Saris. They had been traveling slowly and only
at night, keeping to the trees, straying from any unwanted contact.

He turned his
newly inhabited body around to face one of his mangled soldiers, who rattled
off a string of cryptic words, which would be unrecognizable to any living
being, but the leader nodded in acknowledgment.

“Whoever is
tracking us will never be able to get close enough to identify who we are. And
if they manage to, I will sense it and deal with it myself. Now, no more
questions. We have nothing to worry about.”

The soldier grunted
and walked away, leaving the leader to use his powers to locate the scouts that
he had just been warned of. He picked out their life forces: one female and
seven males. With a mental note, he tagged all eight. They would never be able
to come within miles of his army without alerting him. He grinned in
satisfaction.

“Only a few
more miles to Hillsford,” He said to himself. “Hope you are ready for me,
Saris.”

The fires had
been snuffed out, and everyone was awake, with quite a bit of cursing
alongside. The eclectic mixture of men stumbled around tearing down tents and
readying the wagons. They hurried their morning meal, preparing for another
hard day of travel—another morning on the campaign trail.

“How far off
do you think we are from the city?” one of the men asked. He was from Chargon
and his speech, when using the common tongue, was heavily accented.

The man he was
asking shook his head.

“You don’t
even know what I’m saying,” He grunted, “You Targans are all the same, never
wanting to advance yourselves. Probably can’t even learn the language if you tried.”

“Why don’t you
shut your mouth.” A large Targan warrior walked over. “You never know who might
be listening.” He cradled a heavy club in his arms.

Another man ran
up and pushed the two apart. “Okay, let’s not start fighting each other, before
we even have a chance at the Talurians.” It was Amhar, Chieftain of the Chargon
tribe. The man whom Thandril had spied on weeks before.

The big Targan
warrior laughed, “That’s right, Chieftain, you better protect your
little
warriors.” He turned to walk away.

Out of
nowhere, came a giant flash of light, making the men around jump back. The
light faded, revealing a strange looking group of eight men—eight men that were
not there a moment before.

*
* *

Kaillum scanned
the assembled crowd. Whatever their new friends had done worked. They now stood
in the middle of the Merkadian campsite. He took a step toward the men, and
they nearly fell down, trying to get away from him.

“Oh, damn it.”
Kaillum cursed under his breath, “All a bunch of spooks.”

Dag walked
over to him. “Well, looks like General Vyker talked all of them into coming.”
The two brothers left Merkadia around the same time that Vyker was starting his
tour of the tribes, adding each one to their ranks. The effect was an enormous
army of warriors from four of the five large tribes of the island: Kilgar,
Targa, Chargon, and Merkadia—four tribes against the lonely fifth, the
Talurians.

“Your
highnesses,” Amhar recognized Dageros and Kaillum, and ran to meet them, “What
is going on?” He watched Taverous and his strange traveling companions.

“Highnesses?”
Taverous questioned the two young men, raising his eyebrow.

Dag grinned
back at him, “Must have forgotten to mention that.”

“They usually
take down the command tent last before moving out,” Kaillum said, “Amhar, can
you take us? We’ll explain everything there.”

He nodded and
motioned for them to follow.

Everyone came,
except for Ryon. He had spotted a group of Kitamite tribesman and bid farewell,
for now, knowing it was out of place for him to enter into an officer’s
meeting.

*
* *

“We are
getting close now, should arrive at the city in four days, five at the latest.”
General Vyker made marks on the large map stretched out across the King’s desk
and then backed away as King Melidarius leaned forward and concurred with his
estimate.

The tent
attendants opened the door, “Entering, their Highnesses, Prince Kaillum and
Prince Dageros.”

Melidarius
stood to his feet—a tall, burly man, with choppy, shoulder-length hair and a
full beard. He was modestly dressed in comparison to the Talurian emperor, but
he didn’t care about those things. He was a Warrior King. The most valuable
item on him was his weapon, hanging from his hip—a custom broadsword, with a
jagged backside, passed down from his father.

Kaillum and
Dageros walked in, followed by Amhar, Taverous, and Ceth, then the three
Tearanei. The guards around the perimeter of the command tent instantly became
more alert at seeing the strangers. The tent was sparse, only the King’s chair
in front of a wide desk, and two more on the other side. No other furniture was
present. Other than Melidarius and Vyker, only four guards and the king’s shield
bearer were in the room.

“My sons!”
Breaking all protocol, Melidarius left his chair and hurried across the room to
welcome his boys back.

Vyker stood
off to the side, holding his typical, serious facial expression, “Welcome back,
your highnesses.” He made a deep bow and the recognized glint in his eye
exposed his happiness at seeing the boys.

General Vyker
was like an uncle to them. He had been by their father’s side ever since he
took the throne, nearly thirty years ago. Kaillum being twenty-five and Dageros
being twenty-two, meant Vyker had been there to help with each step of their
lives.

“Greetings
Vyker!” The brothers said together, smiling.

Melidarius
backed away from his sons and eyed the strangers. “And who do we have here?”

“Apologies
father, this is Taverous—” Kaillum started.

Taverous
stepped forward and broke in, “And this is Arclite, Mathis, and Lasal. We have
a lot to discuss, your Majesty.” He put his arm across his chest in salute,
accented with a bow.

“Father, we
need to talk about what happened in Hillsford. You may have a problem when the
army reaches the city. They know we are coming.” Dageros lowered his head,
ashamed.

“It is okay,
son. It was something to gain an advantage, not win the war. We will figure it
out.” Melidarius looked to Vyker. He nodded in acknowledgment. “I’m just glad
you two are alive.”

He motioned
for them to take a seat and waved for his attendant to retrieve chairs for the
others.

“It’s
unfortunate that your plan in Hillsford didn’t work,” Taverous said, “But, we
can be of assistance. We have special abilities and magic which can aid you immensely
if you would accept an alliance.” He raised a questioning eyebrow, waiting for
a response.

“We would be
grateful for the help,” The King said, “We have formed a loose alliance with
the other tribes of the island, and I fear this will be the last time, for many
years, that there will be an army big enough to defeat the Talurians.”

Taverous went
on to talk about why he had come to the island in the first place, who his companions
were in more detail, and about the Tearanei people group. Kaillum and Ceth took
turns explaining what had developed in Hillsford and about the incident during
the execution.

While talking,
the air fluctuated inside the tent and, with a flash of blue energy, a young
woman appeared.

Taverous knew
instantly, “A sister?” He threw a questioning stare at Kaillum and Dageros.

“Well, hello.”
She smiled at Taverous. “Who are the new guys?” She aimed the question at
Melidarius.

He introduced
them.

“And this is
my daughter, Fayeth.” He said to the newcomers.

“Nice to meet
you,” She made her rounds, shaking each of their hands. The gesture was alien
to them, but they caught on quickly.

Fayeth then
hugged Kaillum, “Welcome back, big brother!” Then punched Dageros in the arm,
followed by a hug, “You too, little brother!”

She was slender
but athletic and muscular. She wore a tight fitting outfit of tanned leather
and carried a sleek bow over her back. She was of medium height and her blonde
hair was pulled into a tight bun.

Once done with
the greetings, she walked past her father and over to the desk, with the large
map. “We may have another player entering the game. My scouts and I have been
tracking a large group, moving quickly in
this
region,” she pointed to a
spot on the map. “Close to where the Talurian army was located before they
retreated back to the city. We are not sure if they are part of the Talurian
army or not. But, they have kept to the woods, and their movement is swift and
silent, quite unlike the Talurians.”

“She leads a
specially trained group of hunter scouts,” Melidarius said, matching Taverous’
quizzical stare. “Her ability to teleport lets her search wide areas and
eliminates the inconvenience of delayed reports.” He put an arm around her. “She
is a big asset to our army.” Her face lit up from the appreciation.

Taverous
nodded. “I understand the importance of teleportation. There are a number of
gifted Tearanei that have mastered the art, as have I.”

“Well!” Melidarius
clapped his hands together. “Darling, Fayeth, go back and try to identify
whoever it is that you have caught a whiff of.” She nodded and immediately
teleported away. “Kaillum, Dag, and Taverous, we have plans to discuss. Your
friends can get comfortable in one of our spacious wagons since they are no
doubt tired from the long trip, and we are about to move out. Ceth, can you
escort them to Captain Shaymesh, he will find a place for them. And after that,
I think your people would really like to see their leader.”

The King smiled
grimly. “Once we reach Hillsford, everything will change, for all of us. We
have a great war to win.”

Horns sounded
from the far end of the city.

Each soldier
relayed the alarm, like a falling line of dominoes, back to the newly
constructed, command center in the courtyard of the Keep. The city of
Hillsford, in only a matter of days, had transformed into a highly defensible
fortress.

All the
buildings within a hundred yards had been cleared from around the central Keep,
as not to provide cover for the Merkadians once they arrive. But, the outer
buildings had been reinforced and laden with defensive traps. They were to be
used as the first line of defense until there was a need for a retreat into the
Keep. At that point, the traps would be armed and the Merkadians would have to
slowly progress through the city avoiding dangerous hazards, in hopes of reaching
the open space around the Keep.

“The alarm has
been sounded,” shouted Thandril, “Get the General.”

Thandril was
now always in full battle armament: heavy, custom-made gauntlets and greaves
and a polished breastplate inlaid with bone—a fierce picture of strength. He
carried a half-moon shield that would have immobilized any other man and, at
his side, hung a menacing warhammer, a gift from Saris some years back.

An army, masked
in the darkness of night, emerged over the far horizon. They carried no
torches, flew no flags, beat no drums—not the showing of a proud King and his
arrogant General. They stopped far enough out that Thandril couldn’t
distinguish any details with his mono-scope.

Saris stepped
next to him. “Here already? I thought we had, at least, another two days.”

Thandril
continued to look at the dark mass of soldiers, shaking his head. “I’m not so
sure it is the Merkadians.”

“Well, who the
hell would it be?” Saris grabbed the looking device from him.

Another man
walked up on the other side of Thandril. “So, is it time?” He asked.

“Doctor, I
thought you would have joined with one of the caravans evacuating the city,”
Thandril said. “And, not sure. We don’t exactly know
who
it is that’s
out there.”

“Well, who the
hell would it be?” Kuran reached for the scope in Saris’ hand. “Let me see.”

Thandril
looked shocked. Saris laughed.

“What?” Kuran
asked, keeping the device up to his eye.

“Oh, nothing.”
Saris continued laughing.

“A single man
is riding forward, the only mounted one of the bunch,” Kuran said.

“Okay, my turn
again.” Saris reached out.

Before he
could get a look, a voice spoke, sounding only a few feet away. “General Saris,
I have a proposition that I think would be very beneficial to your situation.”

“The man’s
mouth is moving,” said Kuran, watching the far-off rider, “But how is it
possible that we could hear him?”

“Doctor,
nothing surprises me lately,” Saris said, shaking his head.

“That voice…I
know it,” Thandril felt the hair on his arm stand up, “He is the one I talked
to at the site of the massacre—the man that told me to look for the changeling
when I returned to the city. He saved your life, but also killed many of our
soldiers.”

Saris stared
at him, thinking. “Maybe we should hear him out. At least, we know he has his
priorities in check.”

As if in
response to their private conversation, the voice spoke again, “Yes, you
should. Come out to me. Only you and Thandril. None others.”

*
* *

Saris and
Thandril rode out the city gates, while a company of their fastest lancers
hugged the inside wall, ready to charge if things started to look bad. This man
had helped them, but he had also killed a great deal of Talurians
and
Captain Barolas.

The man slowly
came into detail, as the city moved farther and farther behind.

“Makes me
nervous, Master,” Thandril said, eyeing the stretch of soldiers. “If something
goes wrong, don’t wait for the lancers, make a run for it. I will slow them
down.”

Saris trotted
along on his horse, beside his druid. He reached over and placed a hand on
Thandril’s shoulder. “Everything will be fine, my friend.”

The man hopped
down from his mount, readying to meet them.

Saris’ hand
moved over his mouth, “My god.”

They stared at
the man, unable to wrap their minds around what they were seeing. The man who
waited for them was Barolas, but not. His skin was pale and lifeless and his
eyes were glazed over. Any warmth that he carried before was gone.

A wide grin
curled his lips

“Surprised to
see this face again?” He said. His mouth barely moved, and the voice was not
that of Barolas. It was the eerie, ethereal voice that they heard over the city
when the fires were taken out. “This may be your friend’s body, but inside,
things have changed,” He grinned once again, “My name is Balar, and if you
weren’t such a secluded people on this damned island, you would know that name.
I am a great warrior and, at one time, a champion in my lands. Many have tried
to kill me, but none have succeeded.”

“You sure?”
Saris asked, “Because, you look sort of dead.”

“Dead in body,”
Balar growled.

“Let’s get to
the point,” Saris said, “What do you want from us?”

“I want barely
anything, in return for what you
desperately
need.”

“That would
be?” Saris asked, getting frustrated.

“A way to win
this upcoming battle. You know, truly deep down, that you stand no real chance
against an army the size that King Melidarius drives against you.” He motioned
behind him, toward his ranks of undead. “We can help. This won’t be the first
time I’ve stepped in on your behalf.”

“You call
falling out of the sky and killing my men and one of my Captains, whom you now
wear his skin, helping me?” Saris shouted.

Thandril stood
tall, ready for anything. He still didn’t feel completely right since his last
encounter with this man, or spirit.

“They needed a
push; it was unfortunate but necessary. And you have no gratitude for me saving
your city from those fires?” Balar cocked his head to the side, “You would all
be dead.”

Saris yelled
out in aggravation. He doesn’t like to be played around with. “Fine, if we
do
decide to accept your help…What is it that you want in return?”

“Simple. I
want the life of someone who marches alongside the Merkadians.”

“Well, you
have powers of your own, right?” Saris looked past him, at his army. “Or are
they the ugliest bunch of people I have ever seen?”

“Those are
just toys,” He waved his hand in the air, “and will be gone after this is over.
And yes, I can fend for myself, but I want my full attention on the man that I
seek. Let the pawns fight the pawns. So, if you do this service for me, I will
take out their strongest weapon, and victory will be yours.”

After a moment
of silence, Saris stepped away from Balar, motioning Thandril to follow. Balar
knew to give them some space.

“What do you
think?” Saris spoke quietly.

“I think…that
he can hear us, even in a whisper,” Thandril said.

At that
moment, Balar chuckled.

Saris and
Thandril both turned back toward him.

Balar put his
hands up in surrender and mouthed, “Sorry.” He moved back farther and jumped
onto his mount.

Thandril
turned back to Saris, “I don’t trust him. He has no respect for human life. For
all we know, he could get our whole army killed, just to win this fight he is
after.”

“But the way
it stands now, we might get our whole army destroyed and not win the battle.”
Saris stepped away from Thandril.

“But, sir—”
Thandril followed after him.

Saris held up
a hand to silence him. Thandril stopped in his tracks, might as well have been
a slap in the face. “Sorry, Master.”

Saris walked
over to Balar’s horse. He hadn’t noticed from a distance that the horse was
also reanimated, another one of his magical workings.

“Well?” Balar
asked, noticing Saris’ distraction with his horse.

“If we do
this, know that you do not carry any authority. You will take orders from me.
You obviously control these…” Saris eyed the swaying undead warriors, “Things.
But you will use them as I order. You may offer any assistance in the areas of
your magic as you see fit. Are we clear?”

Balar nodded.
“Seems fair,” He said evenly.

“Then, you
have my word. You will have your kill. You are now an ally of Talur and a
soldier of the Empire. Report to Captain Arteus inside the Keep.” Saris said,
turning to his mount.

Balar started
for the city, followed by his army of undead, being called without any verbal
command.

“I hope I did
the right thing,” Saris said, lifting himself onto his horse.

Thandril
remained silent.

“You know I
value your opinion, Thandril, but we need help. You know that. I wish there were
another way, but there isn’t. I need you with me on this.” Saris said, his eyes
pleading the large druid.

Finally,
Thandril nodded, “I am with you. Always.”

They rode the
rest of the way in silence, keeping the thoughts of the coming battle inside,
relishing the calm. Two days—that was all they had.