Fate of an Empire (Talurian Empire Trilogy Book 1) (26 page)

“Psst…” Klaric
threw a pebble through the cell bars. “Hey, get up.”

Rurik rubbed
his forehead. “What? Why are you waking me?”

“Shh. Quiet.”
Klaric pointed to the door. “Listen.”

Rurik could
hear a low sawing sound. “What do you think it is?” He looked to the far
window, down near the end of the hall. “It is still dark outside. Have you
heard the guards?”

Klaric shook
his head, no.

The noise got
louder, till a crashing sound came from the main room of the jail.

“Hey! What the
hell do you think you are doing?” One of the guards shouted from the room.

A struggle
broke out. Blades rang off of each other, groans came shortly after, and
finally the door to the cells burst inward.

Rurik and Klaric
got to their feet. Rurik trembled at the effort. He had been beaten every day
since his arrival. The guards seemed to have a special fondness for his pain.

Three men came
running into the room. All covered in black, holding two daggers each.

“Back away
from the doors.” One of them ordered.

The other two
positioned themselves in front of the cells. Each pulled a sleek metal pipe
from their belts, along with a leather pouch. They fed the pipe into the
opening of the locks and poured a green powdery substance down through them.
The locks started to smoke and a sizzling sound could be heard. After half a
minute, the lock popped open and fell to the ground.

Rurik stared
at the open door. His freedom, but at what price was he paying for it? Who were
these men?

“Well? Come
on!”

Rurik took a
glance at his friend.

“I say we go,”
Klaric said.

Rurik nodded
and moved to his rescuers. “Can you do something about these?” He nodded to the
iron bracings around his wrists.

“No time.
Later.”

“Alright. You
have the lead. We’ll be right behind.” Rurik motioned to the door.

The man
smiled. “He will take the lead,” he said, pointing to his companion, “Then you
two and I’ll follow with him. Can’t have you getting lost can we?” He pulled on
Rurik’s chains. “We don’t have time to waste.”

They made it
out to the street before any sound of reinforcement could be heard. The man in front
turned into the alleys and snaked through the underbelly of the lower city with
ease. Rurik was completely turned around by the time they stopped for a
moment’s rest. He decided that if he were there alone, he would not know how to
get back to the proper part of the city.

This was the
black district.

Thieves,
assassins, and contraband merchants inhabited these parts. The regular citizen
only came here if looking for trouble. The Emperor seemed to not care about
cleaning up the little rat’s nest of Talur—too much trouble and, at least for
now, was contained to that area.

“A small bit
further. We are getting you out of the city.”

They rounded
one last corner and found themselves standing in front of the outer stone wall
of Talur. One of the men walked into a door to their left. A wheel turned from
inside the building and, as it did, one of the largest squares of stone inside the
wall started to pull back, revealing a pathway.

“Through
there. Our job is done.” He finished his sentence and turned back down the
street.

Klaric took
the lead since he was in better condition than Rurik. They stumbled in the
dark. Debris was scattered on the floor. The passageway had been speedily made,
and little effort had been done to clean it after construction.

“Moonlight!
There.” Rurik pointed to their left. A faint light showed at the end of the
hall.

They emerged
from the passageway, surrounded by trees and bushes.

Rurik crumpled
to the ground. “I need to rest a moment.”

Klaric sat
next to him. “Quite alright.”

The stone door
they came through started to creak and slowly moved shut.

“No going back
now.” Klaric laughed. “We are fugitives!”

“You find that
amusing?” Rurik asked, testing his newly acquired bruises from the escape.

“Hello.” A
voice came from their left.

Klaric jumped
to his feet. “Who is there?”

A fair-skinned
man with shoulder length, blonde hair, walked out from the shadow of a tree.
“My name is Aliem.”

“You look Merkadian,”
Rurik said, watching him from his seat.

“Right, I am.”

“What are you
doing here?” Klaric gave him a suspicious look.

“I left
Merkadia after killing someone.”

“I’m Sorry?”
Klaric chuckled, “That doesn’t answer the question, though.”

“Those men
were hired to help you escape—to help make things look a certain way. I am here
now to take on the second part of the commission.”

“Are we
supposed to go with you?” Rurik asked.

Aliem laughed
softly. “No. No. I’ll be going from here alone. I’m an assassin and I was hired
to kill you.”

Klaric stepped
back. “Such candidness?”

“What can I
say? I like the look on people’s faces. They don’t really expect it.” Aliem
pulled a sword from his belt. “This blade has tasted the blood of many nations.”

“Are you some
kind of joke?” Klaric said. “Who the hell would hire you?”

“Well, since
this is your last night, I will indulge. This is a much-honored contract for
me. I was told General Saris himself placed the bounty on your heads—well
his
exactly.” Aliem pointed to Rurik.

“It was going
to happen sooner or later.” Rurik managed to his get to feet. “I won’t go
easily.”

“Mmm, I don’t
think you are going to put up much of a fight.”

“But, I will!”
Klaric jumped at the assassin.

Aliem leapt to
his side, slicing Klaric’s leg as he flew past.

Klaric landed
with a thud. Blood instantly soaked his leggings.

“No!” Rurik
wobbled forward.

Aliem casually
dodged the feeble attempt, sticking the point of his sword deep into Rurik’s
shoulder.

He yelled out
in pain.

Aliem wrapped his
hand over Rurik’s mouth. “We can’t have any of that. Someone might hear you.”
He held his sword to Rurik’s throat. “Time to say goodnight.”

An arrow sped
through the air, carrying such force, that when it landed on target, Aliem spun
backward. He climbed back to his feet, arrow hanging from his arm.

“Who dares—” Another
arrow flew from the opposite direction, stabbing through Aliem’s neck, cutting
his threat short.

Rurik was
losing blood, fast. His state was dire before the sword wound, now his chances
were slipping even lower. His eyes started to haze over.

Ten feet away,
Klaric twisted on the ground, grabbing at his own injury, while trying to keep
his friend’s focus. “Don’t worry. You’ll be okay.” Klaric said. “Stay with me!”

Two men moved
from the bushes, carrying bows. A woman followed. Klaric saw what had happened
and submitted to their assistance. Rurik couldn’t hear what was being said. He felt
his consciousness slipping away. One of the men came over, kneeling down next
to him.

“You will be
okay.”

Rurik looked
at the faces. He knew the man, but couldn’t place it. Wait. It was Nomik—Aamin’s
father-in-law. The other man and woman attending to Klaric must be Jaeyl and Nirah.

“Nomik…” Was
all that Rurik could muster.

“Yes, my boy.
It’s me. Sleep. Don’t fight it. You are safe—you’re with family.” And with
those words, Rurik let the world slip away.

Warrin gently
knocked on Emperor Tymedious’ door.

The aging
Harmite was the Emperor’s head attendant and had been serving as such, since
the beginning of Tymedious’ father’s reign, Emperor Kidaris. He was the first
Harmite to ever hold such a high office.

“What?”
Tymedious shouted from inside.

He took that
as an invitation and pushed inward. The first room of the suite was a sitting
area, which Tymedious would often hold informal meetings with noblemen, or use
as a way to chat up his latest fancy before leading into the bedroom. As a
matter of fact, Warrin noticed the young Emperor entertaining a pair of women
during last night’s banquet.

He gathered a
pile of discarded clothing.

“Warrin, can
you ready two guest rooms?”

Warrin smiled
to himself. “Already done, Sir,” He yelled down the hallway to the bedroom.

Shortly after,
two ladies wrapped in linens sheepishly walked his way. “There are two clerks
outside the door waiting to escort you to your rooms.” He bowed.

“Thank you,”
they both whispered.   

“My pleasure.”

Warrin moved
down the hallway and rounded the corner to the Emperor’s bedchamber. A naked
Tymedious stood in front of his wardrobe, staring at his vast collection of
clothing.

“What would I
do without you? Thank you for dealing with the girls.” He clapped his hands
together. “Now, what to wear?”

“Well, sir,”
Warrin started, “There
is
a reason for my early morning call. Your
General has returned.”

Tymedious
turned around. “Oh has he,” He said with a crooked grin.

“Sir, maybe
you should put something on while we talk.” Warrin fetched a robe from a nearby
chair.

“Is he here in
the palace?” Tymedious slipped his arms through the offered garment.

“No. He is
still down in the lower city. Apparently, he’s awaiting a jovial return. His
messenger arrived about an hour ago. I’ve already started with the
arrangements. I took the liberty of moving ahead.”

“Yes, that’s
fine. I always enjoy an excuse to feast and drink, and possibly fill a few more
of our lovely guest rooms.”

Warrin smiled.
“You do certainly like to offer your hospitality.”

“Well then.
You find something in this mess.” The Emperor waved his hand toward this
clothing. “And I will go catch a quick bath.”

Warrin bowed.
“I had anticipated that and took the liberty of having—”

Tymedious
placed his hand on the older man’s shoulder. “Of course, you did.”

*
* *

“Is he
supposed to be here soon?” Amira asked.

As she said
the words, a fanfare of trumpets sounded. Throngs of people lined the long,
twisting road that led from the lower city up through the five Houses, ending
at the front steps of the palace. It had been announced that General Saris had
returned from battle, and with him, brought victory to Taluria.

“I’m guessing
he will be arriving very shortly,” Gleb said, mocking the grandiose show.

 “No. Not
quite yet,” Lord Hyle said. They all sat together in the Lords’ grandstand. A
highly exclusive area reserved for the House Lords and honored guests. “That
was announcing the Emperor’s arrival.”

Amira strained
her neck to see over the assembled crowd. Many had taken to their feet at the
sound. A processional of white came out through the gates of the palace—the
heart of the city—warriors clad in sparkling armor, mystics and priests waving
powders and essences into the air, and children of High Blood littered the
pathway with petals of white roses.

“Quite the
attempt at making one’s self out to be of pure and noble bearing.” Horcam
huffed under his breath.

“You should
watch the words you say in such a crowd,” Hyle chastised.

Finally, Tymedious
appeared. “Shh. The Emperor is here.” Amira quieted them both. There was some
excitement within her, for she had never seen the man in person.

He rode a
massive white steed. And, unlike his mounted guards, he wore no armor, instead
a light tunic and riding pants—very casual, but of exceptional craftsmanship
and quality. He was lighter skinned than the majority of Talurians, and his
hair was naturally straight, also unlike the masses. It was pulled back in a
ponytail, showing off his handsome features. The Emperor’s conquests with women
didn’t stem from his title alone.

“He is quite
attractive.”

“You share the
thought of many women your age.” Hyle laughed.

Emperor
Tymedious made it to his own, personal viewing area, surrounded by a private
detail of imperial guards. Amira noticed a pair of young ladies being escorted
by an elderly slave to the same area.

“Constantly
surrounded,” Horcam leaned down and said to Amira.

A second sounding
of trumpets rang through the center city.

“This will be
General Saris,” Hyle said.

People at the
beginning of the street started to cheer. Flowers and rice were thrown into the
air. As he came closer, drummers could be heard. Boom. Boom. Boom…Boom. Boom.
Boom.

After a few minutes,
Saris turned the corner.

“There he is.”
Gleb directed Amira’s gaze.

Saris trotted
along on a black stallion. Thandril rode off to his side, half a stride back,
to show submission. The General looked like he had aged ten years since they
had left Hillsford. Amira saw him in the inn, but it was dark, and the light
was kind. He waved to the assembled masses and spun his sword in the air. Thandril
remained emotionless, holding a stoic, neutral expression on his face.

What had
happened out there?

“He looks
tired,” Hyle noted.

Amira turned
to the Lord. “He does.”

Saris passed
right in front of them. He noticed them in the stands and blew a kiss to Amira.
Hyle saw and patted her shoulder, and at that, Saris’ eyes betrayed his anger
and he squinted at Amira. She had developed strong allies. He had been beaten.
Hyle waved at the General and, with an actor’s finesse, Saris changed his
expression and bowed to the House Lord.

“It will be
interesting having him back in the city,” said Hyle.

“Sir!” A man
ran up to Lord Hyle, holding a piece of parchment. “You need to read this.”

Hyle scanned
the note. “Oh, my…”

“What?” Amira
asked.

“Your
friends…the ones in jail—they have escaped. It seems they were broken out by a
group of mercenaries from the black district.”

Amira
controlled her excitement. Saris’ men must have succeeded. Rurik would probably
contact her in a few days once the situation calmed down. “What does this mean
for everything?” She put her hand to her mouth.

“Well, I fear
for your friends. Mercenaries are not the kind of people you trust with your
life, but, for our legal problems, if Gretio doesn’t have Rurik to bring forth
as evidence of Saris’ involvement with the Harmite rebellion, then he has no
case.” Hyle returned the letter to his messenger and waved him off. “This is
wonderful news for the boys.”

Amira held
onto his arm. “That
is
the most important thing.” That was the last thing
she said, but her thoughts went wild over Rurik. Where was he? Did they get
safely out of the city? When would she see him next?