Fate of an Empire (Talurian Empire Trilogy Book 1) (23 page)

“We
need
to step in,” Taverous said to King Melidarius, emphasizing his words. He
pointed out across the battlefield. “The eyes of the Talurian people have
turned from you. Their fight is against Balar. The same enemy that threatens to
unleash certain death against your army once he finishes with them.”

The two men,
along with the rest of the Merkadian Army, watched as the Talurian fortress had
come to life, struggle erupting within their own walls. But, now a sudden
silence—an ominous lull.

“They regroup
now, but he
will
destroy
them,” Taverous continued, “And once he
has gathered energy from their deaths, he will have enough power to attack,” He
motioned to his three Tearanei companions, “And collectively, we still, will
not have enough power to defend against it.”

Melidarius
remained silent, squinting at the eerie Talurian stronghold. General Vyker,
along with the chieftains and the royal children, all stood waiting.

“Your command,
Majesty?” Vyker asked.

Melidarius let
out a long sigh, “Ready the troops.”

Vyker clapped
his hands together and yelled for his officers. The chieftains scramble to
gather their forces. Taverous nodded his approval and herded in the Tearanei
for counsel.

Prince Kaillum
approached his father. “It is the right thing.”

“I know, son.
Another labor of leadership.” Melidarius clasped his eldest son’s shoulder.
“One day my son…one day.”

Kaillum smiled
and playfully nudged him. “One day…far, far from now.”

Dageros butted
in. “What are we all talking about?”

Kaillum
laughed, “Nothing to trouble you, my
little
brother.”

Dageros
flashed multiple copies of himself, all of which stood cross-armed glaring at Kaillum.
“I may be young, but I am many.”

The three
laughed.

*
* *

“Fall into
formation!” Vyker yelled out over the lines of troops.

Shaymesh and
Arclite were leading the two companies. Vyker had stayed with the King.
Taverous, along with Lasal and Mathis, had taken position along a mostly-intact
section of tall housing, gaining them a vantage point for any needed magical
assistance.

Vyker raised
his voice higher to address his forces. “We have a need to fight alongside the
Talurians. A greater enemy is before us and, if the Talurians fall, so shall
we.” A wave of negative comments flowed through the ranks. They didn’t
comprehend. The Talurians were the enemy of the entire continent—the longtime
evil among the tribes. “I don’t expect you to understand this. I expect you to
trust in your leadership and follow orders. We know what is needed.” Vyker
motioned to Shaymesh, who proceeded to relieve the General and take up the
pre-battle rallying.

As the old
Captain shouted barbaric war cries at the men, Vyker turned to find Kaillum
standing a way off, splendid in his royal platemail.

Kaillum met
Vyker’s gaze and walked to him. “I’m taking command of one of the companies.
You can choose.”

Vyker started
to form an argument, but Kaillum’s eyes showed fierceness that the aging
General had not seen. The boy Prince was becoming the man who would one day
rule. “Very well. Take Shaymesh’s forces. He will be honored to secede to you.”

Kaillum
nodded. “Alright.”

A sudden fury
of noise broke the silence of the battlefield. It came from inside the Talurian
Keep. Taverous relayed a message to Arclite with some kind of unspoken
communication the strange magic users had. The fighting had started again.

It was time.

“Your
highness?” Vyker cocked his head.

Kaillum smiled,
understanding. “Attack!”

The wave of
soldiers fanned out across the battlefield making for the gaps in the wall that
had formed during the first bout between Balar and the Talurians. Arclite’s
forces ran along the left and Kaillum’s down the right. They expected confusion
on the part of the Talurians when first entering the Keep. They will assume
more enemies to fight. The Merkadians will have to quickly make a show of
action against Balar and his forces. If obvious sides were not drawn, the
casualties would escalate uncontrollably.

Kaillum
calculated their distance from the walls, taking care to add time for
navigating the twisted wooden palisades. Nearing the entrance to the outer
defenses, the air seemed to thicken.

Kaillum’s feet
slowed.

He looked to
his left and to his right. The whole line of forces was slowing. Not moving
less, but stuck running in place. A few soldiers stopped and took a step back,
and with a foot’s distance behind, normality returned. Kaillum tried the same,
then lunged forward again, but hit the same sort of barrier.

Arclite looked
in his direction and then both looked back to Taverous, who was already working
a counter spell with his companions.

“Balar,” Kaillum
mouthed the name. Arclite nodded. “At ease! Kaillum shouted out over his
soldiers. “There’s no way to force our way through. Save your energy.”

*
* *

Thandril and
Arteus ran at the wall of undead, remnants of the Talurian army steps behind.
This was their last attempt. Thandril watched his creations run ahead of them,
showing a speed unknown to humans.

Balar’s undead
waited, poised with their swords held high.

Staffwielders
aimed their weapons. Once in range, their staves unleashed bolts of death
magic. The forest beings took the brunt of the assault, losing limbs and chunks
of their torsos. The advantage of being a creature of life and not of death was
the ability to re-grew missing pieces.

By the time
they reached the undead, they were once again whole.

Thorns the
size of broadswords grew from the Forestials’ arms, landing in the chests of
the undead. Thandril was next, and barreled through, splitting the line into
two sections. Arteus’ blade fell upon four of them before they could regain
their footing. The rest of the Talurians troops entered the battle. They fought
with the strength of a force triple their size, but that would still not be
enough.

Balar roared,
sending a ripple across the courtyard dropping the Talurians to their knees.

The undead
lashed out with the advantage and drove their blades into disoriented troops.
The surviving warriors managed to deflect the blows but were pushed back
further. An unexpected, mental hiccup occurred throughout the undead. Something
had caused their controller to lose focus.

Balar was
distracted.

The remaining
Talurians regrouped. Shouts could be heard coming from outside the Keep.

“The
Merkadians?” Arteus breathed heavily. His left arm limply hung at his side.
“They sure know how to take advantage of a situation.”

“They are coming
to help.” Thandril grabbed the Captain’s arm. “You alright? Let me see.”

Arteus
laughed. “They are
helping
themselves to our remains.”

“I’ve an
understanding with their leaders.”

“What?” Arteus
pulled his arm away. “Was that where you were when I couldn’t find you?” He
glared at the druid. “Have you delivered us into the hands of our enemies?”

“Balar is the
enemy,” Thandril said, “He created the disease that threatens us. It gives him
power, and he will use that to unleash an attack on the Merkadians. The man
Balar seeks to destroy is his own brother, whom he will sacrifice anything to
defeat. We will all be dead if he is not stopped. They set up a temporary
alliance with me, to kill Balar.” He scanned the crowd, looking for the dark
magician. “Things have become more complicated.”

“And when were
you going to tell me all this?” Arteus asked, looking sincerely hurt.

“I’m sorry. I
should have brought you in on it. We had limited time.” Thandril shook his
head. “It doesn’t matter now. If we still stay alive until the Merkadians
arrive, we
might
stand a chance.”

“I’m not so
sure they will make it.” Arteus pointed through one of the broken segments of
the wall. The Merkadians were rushing at the invisible force field, unable to
penetrate it. “I guess Balar thought they might do that.”

Thandril
gritted his teeth. “He seems to keep doing that.”

Balar
rebalanced his attention and again the undead were taking the offensive.

*
* *

“Damn it,”
Sweat beaded on Taverous’ forehead. “I can’t break it.”

Mathis and Lasal
added their strength. “He planned every bit of this.” Taverous squeezed the
words through gritted teeth. “The ward is too strong to be an immediate spell.
He worked on this for some time!”

“Steady,”
Mathis said, “You can break it. You’ll find a way.”

Taverous
shifted through the intricate weave of magic, pulling strand after strand, with
no progress. “Wait. I have an idea.” He followed along the path of the shield
until finding the end and then moved his mind across the back. “It’s strong at
the front, but there are weak spots behind. One more minute. Hold on…Got it!”

A hum echoed
over the battleground and a weight in the air dissipated. Taverous smiled and
then slumped down to his knees, exhausted. “This brother will be the death of
me.”

*
* *

Kaillum
reacted instantly, sprinting for the Keep. His soldiers right behind. He saw
Arclite and his company approaching from the far side, some of the faster
runners were already picking their way through the debris of the wall. Renewed,
he let out a howl and moved even quicker. This day would be theirs—one way or
another.

In moments, Kaillum
reached the perimeter. He jumped and climbed over the crumbled masonry. The
inner yard was overwhelming to the senses. He tried to take in the situation.
Groups of undead soldiers under Balar’s command dotted the court while strange,
treelike people fought alongside the Talurians.

The scale was
tipped in Balar’s favor, but they were there to change that.

“Form up!” Kaillum
shouted to his arriving soldiers. “We move on my mark.” He saw Arclite’s forces
grouping to the north of them.

Then, in the chaos
of soldiers ahead, Kaillum saw Thandril. The man fought with devastating
strength, yet held a chilling calm on his face. Kaillum was glad they were the
same side today.

Kaillum saw
Arclite start to charge.

“Now!”

His wedge of
soldiers slammed into the line of undead, giving the Talurians a moment to
breathe. They struck out in unison, dropping the front line to the ground. Kaillum
noticed some of his troops exchanging friendly nods to the scattered Talurians.
A shadow crossed over Kaillum. He turned to find Thandril standing next to him.

“Glad you
could show,” Thandril said, passively.

Kaillum
grinned, “Sorry it took longer than we expected.”

A shrill
whistle shot through the air and, as commanded, the undead retreated to their
Master. Arteus joined Kaillum and Thandril, and together, they watched the
remaining undead huddle back into the far corner of the courtyard. Behind them,
were the Staffwielders, followed by a circle of the six-armed warriors, and at
the center was Balar. All stood at ease, but Balar was hidden from view.

Kaillum,
Thandril, and Arteus started to inch forward.

Kaillum saw
Arclite moving out of the corner of his eye. The Tearanei was carrying what
looked like a spear and shield, but they were made entirely of shimmering
energy—another spell. The use of magic caught the eye of a pair of
Staffwielders. With a flash, they hurled two bolts at Arclite. Their projectiles
were blocked and absorbed by his magic shield.

This gained
him more attention.

“We might be
getting some distraction courtesy of my friend,” Kaillum said, “This could be
our chance to attack and push our way into Balar.”

Thandril put
his hand out to stop Kaillum. “No. We are too late.”

Balar started
to float from the circle, his staff twisting in the air. Unheard words dripped
from his mouth.

A hazy green
fog started to flow from him.

Kaillum heard
Arclite yelling to his troops to retreat.

This is it. The
attack that Taverous had feared; the attack that would kill them all.

“No!” A shout
rumbled the courtyard, followed by a bright dart of light. The object sent
Balar crashing into the wall.

A quivering
Taverous stood over his body, cradling a bloodied fist.

The small
amount of fog dissipated as quickly as it had started to spread.

Balar stood to
his feet. A stream of blood trickled from the side of his head. “Almost
brother. I was
this
close to having the incantation done.” Balar held
his fingers apart. “Now, I’ll have to kill you and do it all over again.” He
spat. His tone carried annoyance more than anger.

Taverous took
a deep breath, stood tall, and pushed his shoulders back. “I am as ready as I
am going to be.”

And with that,
Balar launched himself at his brother while his undead charged the Merkadian
and Talurian army.

Balar crashed
into Taverous, dropping him to the ground. He followed with a downward swipe of
his staff. Taverous pulled his sword from its scabbard, barely deflecting the
attack. The contact of the magical weapons exploded in a kaleidoscope of colors
and rattled the courtyard.

Taverous’
sword blazed with vigor previously unseen to the Merkadians. Balar’s staff
twisted in his hands, as he tried to overcome the sword’s strength.

Taverous
kicked out and caught Balar in the side, giving him the chance he needed to
regain his feet. He whipped his hand around and hurled a bolt of energy at his
brother. Balar swatted it away with ease. Taverous let go of his sword, holding
it in the air with his mind, and, with both hands-free, unleashed a flurry of
bolts. He took a step forward with each thrust, and, equally, Balar had to take
a step back with each block.

Taverous moved
his older brother closer and closer to the wall.

Balar
recognized his situation and, upon reaching the wall, put up a stronger shield
that encapsulated his body. He jumped and kicked off the wall, sending him
flying into the air, high over the Keep’s walls.

Taverous
turned his gaze to watch him escape.

He waited a
moment to follow and scanned the scene below. The Merkadians and Talurians were
holding their own, but, at the current rate, the undead would be defeated at
the same time the remaining troops of both armies were decimated.

He looked for
the Staffwielders.

The common
soldiers didn’t have much of a chance against them. He spotted a group holding
a circular formation twenty yards off. With the same attack he had just used
against Balar, he rained down a volley of bolts upon them. They deflected a few
but were soon overcome to a brutal end.

The troops who
saw cheered.

He noticed the
Druid also nodded his thanks before moving on to his next target. Taverous
smiled. He liked that man. With a thought, he lifted into the air and flew
after his brother.

*
* *

Kaillum reeled
his sword through the air, catching three undead across their throats. With a
howl, he kicked their gurgling bodies to the ground. They had to be making some
headway, but he dared not stop and look. A soldier was cut down in front of
him, and now in his path stood one of the massive, six-armed creatures. It
snarled at him and lowered his head to charge. Kaillum gripped his sword and
shield, bracing for impact.

It never came.

A glowing
spear flew through the air impaling the monster’s head. It was thrown with so
much strength, that the blow launched the creature to its side taking a few
other undead to the ground. Arclite appeared a second behind, pulling his
swords from his back, and finished his victims before they could recover.

Kaillum
noticed the warriors sleek metal armor was covered head to toe in blood. He
looked the vision of a necromancer’s abomination. His visor was closed tight
and his eyes glowed furiously beneath.

A roar came
from behind them. One of the undead, with unique markings painted on his body,
stood atop the far wall. He waved in the direction of the Merkadians campsite.
They all ran toward him and, upon reaching the wall, started to scale the sheer
rock face.

Kaillum
sprinted after them, pulling every soldier he passed. His forces were growing
tired, but they couldn’t stop. The break in combat lulled them into a stupor,
and he couldn’t let them stay that way. Kaillum felt the presence of Thandril
jogging behind him. He found comfort in his enemy for the moment.

“We need to
end this,” Thandril growled.

“Agreed.”

“They are
going to take the fight to you now.”

“I can see
that.”

With a grunt,
Thandril sped past him and jumped on the heels of a group of undead stragglers.
“Faster!” He shouted, yanking the head off one of his prey.

Kaillum leapt
over another of the fallen and pushed himself harder. The majority of undead
were already working their way down the backside of the wall. He reached the barrier
and tried to climb. He couldn’t find any suitable handholds or places to boost
himself up. The rest of the soldiers arrived and encountered the same
difficulty. The undead had certain physical advantages and those had enabled
them to climb the seemingly unclimbable wall.

“Damn it,” Kaillum
cursed under his breath, “This won’t work. We need to go back to the breaks in
the wall. Go!” He moved about the crowd and pushed men in the right direction.
At that moment, the sky broke open, and thunderous rain spilled out. “Perfect.”
Kaillum shook his head and hustled to take lead of his company.

*
* *

Rain fell hard
on Taverous’ face, as lightning etched the sky in harsh lines. He scanned the
battlefield before him—the stretch of land that the Merkadians had fought for,
inch by inch, eventually forcing the Talurian army into their Keep. Now the
fight was coming back toward them, but that wasn’t his major concern at the
moment.

Taverous felt
Balar before he could see him. He had been engaged by Mathis and Lasal. Separately,
they would not last long, but together, they could stall him momentarily. That
gave Taverous the time he needed. Once he spotted them, he sent a massive orb
of energy rippling through the air.

Balar gripped
Mathis’ fist mid-strike, landing his own blow under the Tearanei’s ribs. A potion
crashed under his feet—Lasal’s doing. Balar snarled at the seer. His feet
started to freeze but, with a laugh, he closed his eyes, and as quickly as the
potion started to take effect, it reversed and dissipated into the dirt.

Balar was
almost too late in sensing Taverous’ attack. He whirled around, thrusting his
staff into the air. The tip shattered the sphere, causing an explosion of
brilliant light.

Taverous
watched as his brother easily defended against his attack. He let out a
frustrated sigh. He knew that, in regards to combat, he was far from Balar’s
equal.

Balar launched
at Taverous, blood-red energy building within his palms. “My turn,” He said
with a grin.

Taverous held
his position and concentrated on gathering his energy for a shield. Balar came
directly to him and unleashed a shockwave of power from his outstretched hands,
throwing even himself back. Taverous’ shield groaned under the weight of the
attack. Small holes in the defense started to form. Taverous reinforced each
one as quickly as possible, but it wasn’t enough.

The shield
collapsed and the searing energy burned over his body. With the sound of
Balar’s menacing laugh ringing in his ears, Taverous fell from the sky.

*
* *

Kaillum
tumbled down the last bit of debris, mud splattering across his armor. He
jumped back to his feet and got his bearings straight. The undead had a large
lead on his troops. They were almost at the Merkadian campsite. Only a small
number of soldiers stayed behind in case of emergency—far too few to hold the
last of the undead.

A falcon
screeched overhead, circling two times before flying in the direction of the
camp.

They got
closer and closer, hearing the sounds of swords clashing against each other,
and the clang of metal on shields. Kaillum fought to keep at his brutal pace,
demanding the same from his fellow warriors. The tribesmen from Kilgar,
Chargon, and Targa were used to the physical demands, but the Merkadians were a
horse riding people.

Kaillum
reached the outer perimeter and engaged a small group of undead placed as
guards to cut off their path. He spun to avoid a blade and landed his own
strike to the back of the offender. With a parry and counterattack, he drove
through the next. One by one they came, and each, he disabled for his following
troops to finish.

There it was.
The command pavilion.

His father,
along with his siblings, would be there. He rounded a corner, but it was
tightly blocked by a group of Thandril’s Forestials locked in battle with a pair
of six-armed warriors. There was a nearby embankment and, if carefully
navigated, he could put himself directly at the back of the command tent. He
motioned for two soldiers to follow him and for the rest to help wherever they
could.

The steep bank
was littered with debris from the city fire. Kaillum fought for good footing as
mingling streams turned to rivers under his feet. The two men who accompanied
him were having an, even more, difficult time. A high buzz ramped up in front
of him. He looked to see a Staffwielder launching an attack their way.

He narrowly
jumped away from the blast, but his companions were engulfed in the fiery
light, convulsing and crumbling to the ground.

A large rock
flew over Kaillum, crashing into the Staffwielder and removing its head.
Thandril came jogging up to him. To his astonishment, Thandril moved over the
difficult terrain with ease. The druid reached the Prince, picked him off the
ground, and continued forward along the embankment with Kaillum on his
shoulder.

Kaillum
bounced against Thandril as he moved. “Thanks.”

All he got was
a grunt in response.

*
* *

Taverous’ eyes
slowly blinked open.

His vision
hazy and his body tingled. He reached up, running his hand over his face. With
a hiss, he pulled it away. The skin was boiled and crackling. He tried to focus
his eyes, but nothing helped. A sound from behind made him twist around,
awakening injuries he had yet to discover. He collapsed to the ground and made
out the shape of boots skidding to a halt in front of his face.

The owner
squatted down next to him.

There were two
voices; someone else stood out of his field of vision, both—frightened, upset
voices.

They were
saying something, but the words were muffled and out of reach to Taverous’
hearing. He felt hands seize his arms and legs. The pain made him want to
scream out, but his mouth resisted his commands. The men carried him away, to
who knows where. The muffled sounds of battle grew quieter and quieter. They
were moving further from the action.

He was set
down and a soft roll of material was tucked under his head. One of the men
kneeled next to him and held his hands over Taverous’ chest. A light started to
emanate from his palms. The light was cool and made his skin relax. The pain
lessened slightly. Taverous knew who were with him now, Mathis and Lasal. The
tension in his head and back relaxed. He was safe for the moment and slipped
into a much-needed unconsciousness.

*
* *

Mathis mended
his wounds, but the injury was too much for a complete healing. “Damn it…” He
shook his head.

“What now?” Lasal
asked, resting his hand on Taverous’ shoulder.

“He’ll live,
but I don’t know in what condition. I’ll try to repair more later.” Mathis paused,
“He is done in this fight.”

Lasal nodded,
understanding the weight of that statement. If Balar was not stopped, there
would be no later. Everyone would be dead. “I’ll watch him. You know they need
you.”

Mathis stood
to his feet. “Alright. Be careful. Balar might come looking for him.” He took a
last look at his creator and took off at a run, entering back into the fight.

*
* *

Thandril
dropped Kaillum with a thud. They had reached the top of the hill and now stood
behind the command tent.

“We made it in
time. The undead have yet to reach the pavilion,” Kaillum let out a sigh of
relief.

Thandril
cocked his head. “Wait…” A moment later, sounds erupted from inside the tent.
“We seemed to have arrived at the same time.” Thandril didn’t hesitate to rip
through the fabric, lunging into the King’s refuge. Kaillum was close behind.

The room spun
with activity.

Melidarius’
guards had pulled the King toward the backside of the tent and formed a tight
perimeter around him. The chieftains and their own men fought to do the same. Ceth
and Ryon commanded a small band of soldiers trying to retake the entrance.
Fayeth was firing arrows over the head of her younger brother, Dageros, who’s
copies pushed off the encroaching undead.

Thandril felt
a tap on his shoulder. “Come on,” Kaillum said, moving in the direction of his
father.

“There is
something not right,” Thandril said, “There are too few of the undead pushing
in through the front.”

“Arclite,
Shaymesh, and the others may be making progress with the undead army,” Kaillum
said, “We could be close to turning this thing our way.”

As those words
left the Prince’s mouth, the tent’s support beam snapped and splintered out
into the room.  The canopy started to sag inward. Swords stabbed through the
fabric, and an explosion of sunlight rushed into the room as multiple openings
poured in undead soldiers. Any sort of defensive formation that had been set up
was shattered.

The tent
tangled up the warriors and separated masters from their guards. Thandril
stayed close to the prince, who still fought to be at his father’s side.

“Father!” Kaillum
screamed out into the mess of bodies.

An axe swung
down at Kaillum’s head and stopped short with a clang, as it made contact with
Thandril’s arm plate. His other fist swung from beneath and landed across the
undead’s jaw, lifting him off the ground.

Thandril had
an idea. He dropped to his knees and closed his eyes.

With a
thunderous boom, air flooded into the tent, filling it like a balloon. The
fabric launched into the air, revealing all of its occupants sprawled out below.
The surprise stopped everyone for a moment, but not any longer. The handicap
was gone, and now the Merkadians and tribesmen were on even terms with the
undead.