Rise Of Empire (90 page)

Inside, the castle decor was no more cheerful. Here, too, the withering decay of centuries of neglect had left the once-great edifice little more than a primordial cave. Roots and fungi grew along the corridor crevices, and dead leaves clustered in corners where the swirl of drafts deposited them. Dust, dirt, and cobwebs obscured the ancient decorative carvings, sculptures, and chiseled writings.

Over the walls, the Tenkin had strung crude banners, long pennants that depicted a white Tenkin-style axe on a black field. Just as in Oudorro, row upon row of shields hung from the ceiling like bats in a cavern. A huge fireplace occupied one whole side of the great chamber, a massive gaping maw of a hearth, in which an entire tree trunk smoldered. Upon the floor lay the skin of a tiger, whose head stared with gleaming emerald eyes and yellowing fangs. A stone throne stood at the far end of the hall. The base of the chair had cracked where a vine intertwined the legs, making it list. Its seat was draped in a thick piling of animal skins and on it sat a wild-eyed man.

His head sported a tempest of hair, long and black with streaks of white, jutting in all directions. Deep cuts and burns scarred his face. Thick brows overshadowed bright, explosive eyes, which darted about rapidly, rolling in his skull like marbles struggling to free themselves from the confines of his head. He was bare-chested except for an elaborate vest of small laced bones. His long fingers absently toyed with a large bloodstained axe lying across his lap.

“Who is this?”
the warlord asked in Tenkin, his loud, disturbing voice echoed from the walls.
“Who is this that enters the hall of Erandabon unannounced and unheralded? Who treads Erandabon’s forest like sheep to be gathered? Who dares seek Erandabon in his den, his holy place?”

A strange assortment of people surrounded him, and all eyes were on the party as they entered. Toothless, tattooed men spilled drinks while women with matted hair and painted eyes swayed back and forth to unheard rhythms. One lounged naked upon a silk cushion, with a massive snake coiled about her body as she whispered to it. Beside her an old hairless man with yellow nails as long as his fingers painted curious designs on the floor, and everywhere the hall was choked with the
smoke of burning tulan leaves, which smoldered in a central brazier.

In the darkest shadows were others. Hadrian could barely make them out through the fog of smoke and the flickering firelight. They clustered in the dark, making faint staccato chattering sounds like the whine of cicadas. Hadrian knew that sound well. He could not see them, merely the suggestion of movement cast in shadows upon stone. They shifted nervously, anxiously, like a pack of hungry dogs, their motions jittery and too fast to be human.

Dilladrum shooed Wesley forward. Wesley took a breath and said, “I am Midshipman Wesley Belstrad, acting captain of what remains of the crew of Her Imperial Eminence’s ship the
Emerald Storm
, out of Aquesta. I have a message for you, Your Lordship.” He bowed deeply. Hadrian found it comical that a lad of such noble bearing bowed before the likes of Erandabon Gile, who was just shy of a madman.

“Long Erandabon has waited for word.” The man upon the throne spoke in Apelanese. “Long Erandabon has counted the moons and the stars. The waves crash, the ships approach and gather, the darkness grows, and still Erandabon waits. Sits and waits. Waits and sits. The great shadow is growing in the north. The gods come once more, bringing death and horror to all. The undying will crush the world beneath their step, and Erandabon is made to wait. Where is this message? Speak! Speak!”

Wesley took a step forward as he pulled the letter from his coat, but paused after noticing the broken seal. As he hesitated, an overly thin man dressed in feathers and paint snatched the letter away. He growled at Wesley like a dog showing his teeth. “Not approach the great Erandabon with unclean hands!”

The feathered man handed the message to the warlord,
who studied it for a moment, his eyes racing madly back and forth. A terrible grin grew across his face, and he tore the note into pieces and began eating them. It did not take long, and while he ate, no one said a word. With his final swallow, the warlord raised his hand and said,
“Lock them away.”

Wesley looked stunned as Tenkin guards approached and grabbed him. “What’s happening?” he protested. “We are officials of the Empire of Avryn! You cannot—”

Erandabon laughed as the guard dragged them down the hall.

“Wait!” another voice bellowed. “It was arranged!” Thranic deftly dodged the guards, advancing angrily on the warlord. “My team and I are to be given safe passage. I’m here to pick up a Ghazel guide to take us safely through Grandanz Og!”

Erandabon rose to his feet and raised his axe, halting Thranic mid-step. “Weapons did you bring? Food for the Many did you deliver to Erandabon?” the warlord shouted at him.

“It sank!” Thranic yelled back. “And the deal wasn’t based on the weapons or the elves.”

The chattering sounds from the darkness grew louder. The noise appeared to disturb even the Tenkin. The hairless man stopped drawing his designs and shuddered. The woman with the snake gasped.

Erandabon remained oblivious to the rise in their tenor as he gibbered in glee. “No! Based on the open gates of Delgos! What proof of this? What proof does Erandabon have? You wait here. You stay sealed and if Drumindor does not fall,
you
will be food for the Many! Erandabon decrees it! Who are you to defy Erandabon?”

“Who are you to defy Erandabon?”
chanted the crowd. The warlord waved his hand in the air and the chattering grew loud again. The guards moved in with spears.

“Now we know what the empire has been doing with the elves they’ve been rounding up,” Royce muttered as he ran his fingers lightly along the length of the doorjamb.

The Tenkin had locked them in cells buried in the foundation of the fortress. There were no windows. The only light came from the small barred opening of the door, beyond which torches mounted in iron sconces flickered intermittently. Hadrian and Royce were fortunate enough to share a cell with Wyatt and Wesley, while the others were in similar cells within the same block. The sounds of their independent conversations echoed as indiscernible whispers.

“It’s ghastly,” Wesley said, collapsing on the stone floor and dropping his head in his hands. “Admittedly, I’ve never held any love for those of elven blood”—he gave Royce an apologetic glance—“but this—this is loathsome beyond human imagining. That the empire could sanction such a vile and dishonorable act is … is …”

“And now we also know what that fleet of ships in the bay is for,” Hadrian said. “They’re planning to invade Delgos, and it would appear we delivered the orders for them to attack.”

“But Drumindor is impregnable from the sea,” Wesley said. “Do you think this Erandabon fellow knows that? All those ships will be burned to cinders the moment they enter the bay.”

“No, they won’t,” Royce said. “Drumindor has been sabotaged. When they vent at the next full moon, there will be an explosion, destroying it, and I suspect Tur Del Fur as well. After that, the armada can sail in unopposed.”

“What?” Wesley asked. “You can’t possibly know that.”

Royce said nothing.

“Yes, he does,” Hadrian said.

Realization crossed Wesley’s face. “The seal was broken. You read the letter?”

Royce continued exploring the door.

“How is it going to explode?” Hadrian asked.

“The vents have been blocked.”

“No …” Hadrian shook his head. “Only Gravis knew how to do that and he’s dead.”

“Merrick found out somehow. He’s doing the same thing Gravis tried. He’s blocked the portals. When they try to vent during the harvest moon, the gas and molten rock will have nowhere to go. The whole mountain will blow. And that’s what Merrick meant about turning the tide of war for the empire. Delgos supports the Nationalists, funded largely by Cornelius DeLur. When they eliminated Gaunt, they cut off the rebellion’s head. Now they will cut off its legs. Destroying Delgos will mean the New Empire will only need to deal with Melengar.”

“But those ships we saw in the harbor were not just Tenkin. The vast majority were Ghazel,” Hadrian pointed out. “Gile thinks he can use them as muscle, as his attack dogs, but goblins can’t be tamed. He can’t control them. The empire is handing Delgos over to the Ba Ran Ghazel. Once they entrench themselves, the goblins will become a greater threat to the New Empire than the Nationalists ever were.”

“I doubt Merrick cares,” Royce said.

“You stole the letter from me and read it?” Wesley asked Royce. “And you had us deliver it to the warlord knowing it would launch an invasion?”

“Are you saying you wouldn’t have? Those were your orders, sanctioned by the regents themselves.”

“But giving Delgos to that … that … insane man and the Ghazel, it’s …it’s …”

“It’s your sworn duty as an officer of the New Empire.”

Wesley stared, aghast. “My father used to say, ‘A knight draws his sword for three reasons: to defend himself, to defend the weak, and to defend his lord,’ but he always added, ‘Never defend yourself against the truth, never defend the weakness in others, and never defend a lord without honor.’ I don’t see how anyone can find honor in feeding a child to goblins or handing over a nation of men to the Ghazel horde.”

“Why did you let him deliver the letter?” Hadrian asked.

“I just read it tonight during the water break. It was my last chance to get a look. I figured if we showed up completely empty-handed, we’d be killed.”

“I won’t be party to this …this … atrocity! We must prevent Drumindor’s destruction,” Wesley announced.

“You realize interfering with this would be treason?” Royce told Wesley.

“By ordering the delivery of every man, woman, and child in Tur Del Fur into the bloodthirsty hands of the Ba Ran Ghazel, the empress has committed treason to her people. It is I who remain loyal … loyal to the cause of honor.”

“It might comfort you to know that it’s highly unlikely that Empress Modina gave this order,” Hadrian told him. “We know her—met her before she became empress. She would never sanction anything like this. I was in the palace the day before we sailed from Aquesta, and she’s not in charge. The regents are the ones behind this.”

“One thing’s for sure: if we foil Merrick’s plan, we won’t have to look for him anymore. He’ll find us,” Royce added.

“This is all my fault.” Wesley sighed. “My first command, and look where it has led.”

“Don’t beat yourself up. You did fine.” Hadrian patted him on the shoulder. “But your duty is done now. You completed the task your lord set for you. Everything after this is of your own choosing.”

“Not much of a choice, I’m afraid,” Wesley said, looking around their cell.

“How long before the harvest moon?” Hadrian asked.

“About two weeks, I would guess,” Royce replied.

“It would take us too long to travel back by land. How long would it take us to get there by sea, Wyatt?” Hadrian asked.

“With the wind at our backs, we’d make the trip in a fraction of the time it took us to come out. Week and a half, maybe two.”

“Then we still have time,” Hadrian said.

“Time for what?” Wesley asked. “We are locked in the dungeon of a madman at the edge of the world. Merely surviving will be a feat.”

“You are far too pessimistic for one so young,” Royce told him.

Wesley let out a small laugh. “All right, Seaman Melborn, how do you propose we sneak down to the harbor, capture a ship loaded with Ghazel warriors, and sail it out of a bay past an armada when we can’t even get out of this locked cell?”

Royce gave the door a gentle push and it swung open. “I unlocked it while you were ranting,” he said.

Wesley’s face showed his astonishment. “You’re not just a seaman, are you?”

“Wait here,” Royce said, slipping out.

He was gone for several minutes. They heard no sound. When he returned, Poe, Derning, Grady, Dilladrum, and the Vintu followed. Royce had blood on his dagger and a ring of keys in his hand.

“What about the others?” Wesley asked.

“Don’t worry, I won’t forget about them,” Royce said with a devilish grin. When he left, the others followed. A guard lay dead in a pool of blood and Royce was already at the door of the last cell.