The Pinnacle Of Empire (Book 6) (34 page)

“Excellent, you may go,” Nindax said. The man stumbled out. “Gentlemen, Engwaniria is mine. See to it your troops are alerted to the impending goal and are prepared to attack upon our arrival.”

“Imperial Majesty, the troops have marched day and night to get this far. There will be two more days on minimal provisions while still under forced march. They’re exhausted and hungry. Shouldn’t we allow them a day of rest before the final assault on the enemy capital?” a commander asked. Nindax saw the frown the senior generals cast on the man, who looked left and right then backed away from the assembly.

“We’ll go forward as planned,” Nindax said. “I’ve already initiated actions to squash resistance at Engwaniria. On the contrary, I expect the city to open its gates to us. There’ll be little resistance. Don’t question your emperor. Get the men on their feet and get moving… now.”

The questioner bowed and backed out of the tent.

“You’re all dismissed, all except the captain of my palace guards.” The officers departed as the captain stepped forward.

“I want your toughest cohort for a special mission,” Nindax said. “Wizard Xthilleon assures me we to win this war; I must take possession of the legendary Crown of Yensupov. Personally, I don’t believe the power stories. However, the wizard was adamant that I secure the crown immediately upon taking the city. I want you to select the cohort and to go straight to Ossenkosk Palace. Search it top to bottom until you find the crown. Bring it to me at once. Is that clear?”

“It shall be done, Imperial Majesty.”              

* * *

The caravan of imperial coaches and baggage carts rolled unceremoniously back into Engwaniria, escorted, or rather surrounded, by Boktorian’s two cohorts. In the lead coach, Helgamyr jostled between Engwan and Augusteros, facing Endaquac who sat rigidly upright. Augusteros watched Endaquac, as if captivated by her. Belnik and Tittletot rode with the ladies-in-waiting in the second coach. Upon reaching Ossenkosk Palace, the somber passengers disembarked in silence and returned to their quarters, accompanied this time by armed guards. Helgamyr was barely resettled in her suite when Boktorian burst in without warning.

“How dare you enter my presence without permission,” Helgamyr snapped.

“Spare me the protests, Your Highness, but time is of the essence,” Boktorian said. “We must dispense with the formalities. Saxthor has abandoned the city and empire, for all I know. He’s left us defenseless. Scouts report the Senoshesvasian army is within two days forced march of Engwaniria. We’re abandoned, left to provide for our own survival.”

“Such impertinence,” Helgamyr said.

“Where is Crown Prince Engwan? I’m told he’s not in his suite.”

“Engwan is with me,” Helgamyr said.

“I must ask you to prepare His Highness to accompany me this afternoon to the palace balcony. He must be dressed in imperial robes with imperial regalia, which I shall have brought for his use. He’s to be proclaimed emperor before the assembly in the grand plaza.”

“Emperor… little Engwan? Saxthor will have your head for this when he returns.”

“Saxthor isn’t likely to return and, even if he should, Emperor Nindax will be here soon to support Engwan as emperor with you as regent. The people will welcome this return to the Engwan dynasty and gladly welcome the Senoshesvasians coming to rid the empire of the usurper. I should have thought you would be overjoyed.”

“I’m no supporter of Saxthor; that’s well known, but this rebellion may not be as acceptable to the people as you presume.”

“Speaking of obstructions, where is Empress Tottiana? The guards tell me she disappeared at the fortress where she was to be detained.”

“There was a commotion, a mouse of all things in our coach. I guess she fled to the fortress.”

“I’d know where she was if she was in the fortress, Highness.” Boktorian bowed but his frown chilled Helgamyr. “Have his imperial highness prepared to be proclaimed emperor at three this afternoon before the assembled citizens in the grand plaza.” The chatra turned without bowing and left the suite. The doors clanged shut behind him.

“We’re prisoners,” Helgamyr whispered to Endaquac, who’d resumed her seat in the corner, stitching as usual. “What could’ve happened to Tottiana? I wish I hadn’t been so harsh with her.” Then a movement from the corner caught her eye. She looked and saw Engwan jerk back the drapery. For the first time in a long time there was a smile, a look of vengeful satisfaction on his face.

*

By midafternoon, the plaza before the palace was an undulating mass of people gathered at the chatra’s command. Anyone who hadn’t panicked and fled on first hearing the Senoshesvasian army was approaching the capital was in the plaza.

“Bring Engwan and Helgamyr here,” Boktorian ordered. The guards left and the chatra watched the crowd, reading its mood. Guards soon entered, escorting the prince and dowager dressed in formal state regalia. Boktorian motioned them forward beside him at the balcony doors, knowing it would infuriate the dowager to be so summoned. He motioned for his attendants to open the doors. He stepped out on the balcony, expecting cheers, but the muttering throng merely stopped and looked up at the chatra. Boktorian’s aide nudged Helgamyr to step out onto the balcony. She slapped him. She took Engwan’s hand and the two joined the chatra on the balcony. Seeing the prince in formal state robes and the dowager so dressed and wearing her crown started the crowd muttering again. Then they began a hesitant, feeble cheer. Boktorian raised his hands and the cheering stopped.

“Citizens of Engwaniria and the empire,” Boktorian began. “Today we must report that our Emperor Saxthor has abandoned the empire. The empress too has disappeared in this, our hour of uncertainty. I would not have you succumb to fear. Today, we proclaim this most precious of princes, Engwan, grandson of Engwan IV, Emperor Engwan V of the Powterosian Empire.”

The stunned crowd stood silent for a moment then mumblings began here and there. A few feeble cheers started then faded across the plaza. Boktorian noted the guards he’d stationed around the square watched the crowd as well.

“Our own beloved dowager empress, still mourning the loss of her esteemed husband, will now assume the office of regent until Engwan reaches maturity and can assume the mantle of imperial office to lead our empire to a new age of prosperity and glory.”

Again, the enthusiasm in the crowd was hesitant. The fidgeting people looked left and right at others’ reactions.

They’re uncertain as to the dowager’s ability to rule in the face of the approaching hostile army, Boktorian thought. The cheers, slow in coming and less than exuberant, are dying fast.

Boktorian pushed Engwan forward, pressing his small torso against the railing so the crowd could get a better look at the new emperor whom they seemed to accept more than Helgamyr.

* * *

Tottiana crept through Ossenkosk using hidden passages and empty hallways, making her way to the balcony, where she knew from the throng outside, Boktorian was proclaiming Engwan emperor. She made it to the state throne room undetected but knew the balcony off the small room behind the throne would be packed with Boktorian’s co-conspirators. She heard the feeble cheering and knew Engwaniria’s acceptance of the power shuffle left the already panicked citizens even more uncertain as to their future.

She’d managed to get to her apartment and secured her imperial crown, though there was no time to change her gown. She hid the crown in the folds of her gown and crept up the throne room’s shadowed side aisle to the room beyond. As anticipated, the room was a jumble of summoned nobles on whom Boktorian could rely. All were watching the balcony drama unfold; none noticed as the veiled lady pushed through the crowd.

As the cheering died down, Tottiana jerked off her veil, mashing her crown into her slightly amiss hair, and stepped forward beside Boktorian. The mumbling, shuffling crowd froze staring up at the balcony. Tottiana raised her hands to silence the citizens. Boktorian froze.

“Citizens of Engwaniria and the Powterosian Empire,” she began. “Your Emperor Saxthor is away in the south putting down the Senoshesvasian invasion at Mendenow. He has not abandoned you or the empire. Though Emperor Nindax approaches Engwaniria with his army from the north, Saxthor will return any time now. We must trust in his judgment and defend Engwaniria until His Imperial Majesty arrives to deliver us from this outrage.”

Tottiana glanced at Boktorian who was purple. He nodded to the guards at the balcony door then at Tottiana. The guards hesitated, looked at each other, and then shuffled forward. Seeing this, Tottiana clutched the balcony rail.

“Citizens,” Boktorian bellowed. “The empress here is loyal to her husband to the endangerment of the empire. Emperor Nindax comes not to destroy Engwaniria but to support Engwan’s installation as rightful heir to the throne. We must trust to his magnanimity in supporting Engwan as emperor.”

The fidgeting guards put hands on Tottiana’s elbows, apparently hoping she’d come away from the balcony without a struggle. Seeing guards put hands on the empress, the masses in the plaza surged forward toward the palace doors. Tottiana held firm to the rail.

“Citizens, Boktorian here has abandoned your emperor, his emperor, the emperor you proclaimed at the end of the Great Dreaddrac War. He has taken it upon himself to proclaim Engwan emperor while Saxthor still lives, fighting to save our empire. It isn’t my son Engwan whom Boktorian puts forth as your emperor, but himself as the power behind the throne.

“This traitor has made some pact with Emperor Nindax to save himself. He would have you throw open the gates of Engwaniria to Nindax and submit to that tyrant’s rule. The Senoshesvasians have a long, hostile relationship with the Powterosian Empire. To submit our untouched capital without a fight would be the most despicable treason imaginable. Will you allow this traitor to sacrifice your homes and lives to Emperor Nindax and his cruel vengeance?”

The guards wrested Tottiana’s hands from the rail and dragged her from the balcony. The crowd, already incensed, smashed through the palace doors. Boktorian heard the crushing throng on the floors below pushing aside the guards, rushing through the rooms and halls, searching for the staircase to the throne room above, seeking to free their empress.

Boktorian turned, pushing through the now distraught crowd of former supporters hurrying from the balcony. The terrified rebels fled down the throne room aisles. The guards holding Tottiana released her and fled from the citizens’ retribution as they now surged up from below. The throne room erupted into a massive struggle as the two camps entangled.

Tottiana rushed to Helgamyr and, with Engwan reluctantly in tow, worked their way back to refuge in the empress’ suite.

“Where is Augusteros?” Tottiana asked.

“He’s safe with Endaquac,” Helgamyr responded. “I’ll go get him.”

“No, I’ll get him, right now you might not be safe in the halls.” Helgamyr paled. “Lock the door and don’t open it for anyone but me.”

Tottiana left and returned with Endaquac and Augusteros. With mother and sons secure, Tottiana returned to take control of the situation in the throne room. By then the furious crowd had Boktorian and his followers subdued. They’d disarmed the guards supporting the traitor. Tottiana made her way to the throne.

“Citizens!” Tottiana yelled across the cavernous throne room whose acoustics were perfectly set to make her voice clear from the throne. “Citizens, thank you all for your loyalty and support. Those traitors must now be incarcerated while we take control of our most magnificent of cities. Prepare to defend her and show the approaching army what Powterosians are made of. We shall not surrender Engwaniria to Nindax or any other barbarian invader.”

The cheering crowd jumped and waved arms exuberantly. Pushed along by the crowd, the traitors moved from the hall to their prison elsewhere in the city. Tottiana’s supporters began to fill the throne room where the empress, now undeniably in charge, ruled in her own right.

* * *

Keeping Sorblade between the distracted shrimp monsters and himself, Saxthor slipped under the water. He swam down and out of the cave with all his might. Gasping for breath as he broke the surface, he struggled through the shallows. Thick algae made the bottom slick. He lost his balance and fell, splashing in the murky water.

This is all I need, his arms flailed trying to balance and stand. Did those things hear the splash? He wondered.

He looked back; a disturbance trailed him. His heart skipped a beat. It’s just my wake; no need to panic. I have to stand up now.

A great claw broke the surface and clamped down on his left ankle. Pinching pain shot up his leg. He spun back around with Sorblade swinging in a full arc. The sword sliced through the mantis arm’s exoskeleton with a sickening crunch. The terror rush propelled him, thrashing and stumbling from the water. He crawled up on the land with the huge claw still clamped on his ankle. Through a surge of pain, he knocked it off with his sword. The broken appendage tumbled toward the water. Another approaching mantis snatched it and jetted back through the shimmering silver moonlight down into darkness.

Scrambling backward up the slope, Saxthor hobbled to the tormented tree still sucking air from the adrenaline rush. Turning this way and that, he searched the night for anything attacking. His heightened hearing reacted to the slightest sound. He started to calm with the silence, noting then that his heart still raced as shock nausea began. He froze. A clicking sound at the water’s edge crackled in the darkness. He saw movement, cautious, halting but moving forward at the light’s edge.

Another shrimp! He thought.

Saxthor lay back… clutching the ring to stop its light exposing him. He held his breath, fearing his slightest movement might attract attention. The beast antennae tapped the dead claw’s trail.

It smells; it’s confirming something is wounded or dead. Is it looking for me or the dead mantis? he wondered. His heart pounded.

The monstrous shrimp started crawling up the slope, snapping its pincers. He rose and stumbled backward, felt the bank slick under him, and tripped over a piece of driftwood. The creature, searching for the remaining claw fragment, turned and rushed toward him as he lay sprawled and exposed on the shore.

“Get away from me!”

The shrimp came on faster.

Saxthor struggled to stand. It’s almost on top of me. I can’t get away from it, his brain screamed. The iron taste of blood and fear came to his mouth. He’d bitten his tongue. Before he could stand, the creature rose over him, claws and two legs waving in the air.

Reacting without thinking, Saxthor gasped and thrust Sorblade upward into the center of the monster’s head. Translucent green blood ran down the blade then over his cold hands. With legs flailing, the shrimp collapsed on top of him. Its tail began flicking in its death throws, pulling them back down the slope. For a moment, the two slid toward the water churning with shrimp in a frenzied dance for position to catch them.

I’m alone with this monster more than twice my size lying on top of me, he thought. I can’t move. I have to get free before we slide into the water and those monsters.

Saxthor took a deep breath and shoved the monstrous carcass with all his might. He couldn’t lift the great body. With his last strain, he moved the creature just as its tail caught on something. The beast rolled sideways enough to free Saxthor, who then slammed Sorblade in the bank, halting his descent.

The sound of thrashing filled his ears. Mantises scrambled over each other to grab the shrimp body, dragging it into the water. Saxthor watched through a slow-motion moment before the water stilled. A few, low ripples rolled onto the lake’s edge. In the silence that followed, the silver moon-sheen slid back over the surface, a curtain hiding the violent feasting deep below. Only then did Saxthor hear his own heavy breathing and feel his pulsing heartbeats.

He crawled up the bank and held onto the scrub tree until dawn, fearing he’d slip again and slide into the lake and doom. Strange things slithered around him in the darkness. Something screamed in the distance by the shoreline. A splash, thrashing, and then silence fell again. Cold and still wet, he shivered in the night air. At dawn, he looked in every direction but his stallion was nowhere to be seen.

He’s galloped as far away as he could get by now, he thought. I’m alone against these monsters. I can’t walk fast enough or run long enough to get around the lake and escape the shrimp before dark.

Then he noticed the warming dragon ring, a striking contrast to his chilled body. He twirled the ring on his finger. As his despair increased, so did the dragon ring’s warmth. The scales lost their metallic hardness, becoming supple to the touch.

I’ve not called upon Yamma-Mirra Heedra since battling the Dark Lord on the dragon Ozrin. Yet unless I get away from this lake before nightfall, I’m a dead man. What’ll become of my family and thousands, perhaps millions, of my people if the empire fragments in my absence or dissolves and is exposed to Nindax’s vengeance? So many will suffer for my failure.

The thoughts so incensed Saxthor he almost failed to notice when the dragon ring slipped from his finger, falling to the ground as a tiny, squirming dragon.

* * *

At the northwestern Powterosian port city of Malledar on the Tixosian Sea, a fishing boat sailed into the harbor so fast it slammed into the wharf. Its captain jumped up on the dock, tossing his boat’s rope to a startled old man. The captain rushed up the dock to the harbor master with his story. The two hurried to the admiral’s command post at the fortress guarding the harbor’s entrance.

“I tells you the Neuyokkasinian war fleet be just over the horizon,” the fisherman said. His voice broke in his excitement.

The admiral rose from his desk and went to the balcony overlooking the harbor. He moved around to the northeast, searching the horizon.

“The Neuyokkasinian war fleet you say?” the admiral asked. “Are you sure of that? What makes you think it’s the Neuyokkasinian war fleet.” He turned to his aide. “More like it’s the Velstorbokkin fleet bringing an invasion force. Send for the captains of warships still in the harbor. Alert the castilyernov’s commander to an approaching fleet. He must prepare to defend the harbor and prevent a landing here.” The aide saluted and dashed off.

“Fisherman, what was your name?

“Bacon, sir.”

“What makes you think it’s the Neuyokkasinian fleet. Admiral Agros wouldn’t sail to Malledar without first notifying me of his coming and only then at the emperor’s order. Speak up man, uh, your name again?”

“Bacon, sir, they calls me Bacon,” the fisherman said. He fidgeted with his cap and bobbed up and down, bowing to the admiral. “The great flagship, sir, what a beauty she is too, she has the Neuyokkasinian crest on her mainsail and she bares the emperor’s Calimon crest on her flags. It’s got to be the Neuyokkasinian fleet, sir, under full sail too.”

“Aide!” the admiral shouted. Another junior officer appeared. “Dispatch the first ship you come to below with all haste and under full sail to the horizon and see what you can make of this report.”

*

It was nearly noon when the Neuyokkasinian fleet anchored, filling the harbor to capacity. The admiral greeted Viceroy Vicksnak as he disembarked.

“What news?” the admiral asked. “What would bring the Neuyokkasinian fleet this far west?”

“The emperor ordered me to sail here at once with a Neuyokkasinian legion to reinforce and perhaps relieve Castilyernov Shinnadda.

“Shinnadda?”

“Emperor Nindax may attack from the northeast. It’s a precaution not meant to alarm you, but I was ordered to bring what forces I could. I had no lead time to give you warning.”

“Aide! See that the Neuyokkasinians have access to all available resources they need.”

Bodrin only took time to re-provision his army and ships, and then he left for Shinnadda. He left Admiral Agros and the Neuyokkasinian fleet at Malledar to reinforce the sea defense in case the Velstorbokkin fleet should attack.

* * *

“Any chance we can burn those crystal’s frames again?” Shinnadda’s commanding general asked Pinion, the former sortie’s leader.

“We can’t make another attack on those crystals. The enemy has found the trapdoor in the forest and now guards it with a full cohort. We’d be killed one by one exiting the tunnel single file.”

The general stood on the highest tower’s battlements, glaring down at the newly reframed crystals. Cohorts of enemy soldiers were refocusing them on the gates.

“Have we anything that can reach those things?”

“Even our best archers can’t shoot that far. Our bows don’t have that range. What about the catapult that was refitted to shoot a great arrow, a giant crossbow?”

“We’ve not tested it; I’ll see to that now,” Pinion said and, shaking his head, he disappeared down the stairs.

“I don’t suppose it’ll have that range either,” the general mumbled. “Send men to soak the gates. Give the order to the commanders. Those crystals will likely burn the main gates just after midday. Position the troops and prepare them to repel a full scale attack through the portal then.”

The officer rushed off and the general slumped. An aide offered him a drink, but he pushed it away, shaking his head.

“Catch up with Pinion; tell him to be sure the commanders have their men fed and provisioned with full water bags. This is going to be a long day of fighting in the sun. There’ll not be another chance to eat or rest once the gates burn.”

Another officer moved up beside the general.

“Move the catapults on the walls closer to the main gate. They’ll need to fire their scatter ordinance on the enemy as they congregate near the gate for their attack. Warn the men those crystals could refocus on the catapults too.”

That officer rushed off. The general mopped his brow as the rising sun broke over the trees and shone down on the tower. He looked over the frantic activities all across the castilyernov. Then he stepped back inside the tower to his command post. A brawny, leather-aproned soldier brought a tray with food and drink.

“Better takes your own advice, General,” the soldier said. “Better eat something now while you can.”

“This may well be our last day, Beakman. I don’t know if we can hold off two legions with the gate destroyed and the castilyernov compromised.”

“Well then, sir, you eats this bird leg here and take some drink. We don’t want to go out with stomachs growling. You needs your strength to keep these boys in line.” The kitchen’s rough veteran put a plate in front of the general with the delicacy of a hummingbird.”

“We’ve seen a lot of campaigns together, Beakman. I’m sorry this may be our last.”

The soldier nodded but said nothing, setting a mug by the old man. As the general finished eating, a shout came from outside. The general jumped up, knocking over the small table, rushing out onto the balcony.

“General! The sun has reached the crystals and the enemy is testing them. The beams were striking just out from the wall. The enemy has adjusted one crystal. They’ve just set fire to the bridge over the moat. They’ve set themselves back a bit, burning the connection.”

The enemy troops began to cluster around the bridge head, ready to charge the gate when it burned. When enough had concentrated, the general ordered the catapults to fire. Great damage was heaped on the concentrated enemy. But all too soon the crystals’ brilliant light beams struck the main gate. Steam billowed from the soaked wood. Smoke soon rose from it. As both sides watched, the gates smoldered and then burst into flames that soon enveloped the stonework at the base of the tower above. As defenders fled the tower, the stonework cracked under the heat. All too soon, the tower collapsed into the newly formed breach of the charred gates.

“Fire at will,” the commanders yelled to troops on the nearby battlements. The enemy scrambled down through the dry moat and over the charred, cracked stones mounded where there had just been a gate and tower. Stones from the catapults rained down. The invaders fell in great numbers, but more rushed over and past them. The Senoshesvasians began to stream into the castilyernov’s outer bailey.

From his post atop the keeps tower, the general saw showers of arrows rain down on the enemy still beyond the walls as swords began to flash in the mayhem spreading into the courtyard below.

“Sound retreat!” the general said. “Have the men pull back inside the inner bailey. We must try to hold out here. They’re rolling a battering ram over the rubble. Try to collapse the bridge leading to the inner bailey when the last of our men cross over.”

Another officer leaned over. “Sir, we can’t accommodate all the civilians inside the inner bailey for long.”

Just then an aide poked the general, who turned to see a soldier looking to the east. There was a cloud of dust rising behind a great mass of men running toward Shinnadda.

“Has Nindax sent back another legion to finish us off?” the old commander asked.

“General, that’s the emperor’s insignia on the legion’s standards. Those are Neuyokkasinians,” the aide said.

The general’s eyes squinted, staring at the sword-wielding troops rushing down the slopes. Then he noticed the enemy, too, sighted the oncoming army. The Senoshesvasians, still out on the plain, stopped fighting. One by one, they abandoned the field. Many began to run for their lives back west up the mountain slopes, racing past their irate officers toward their homeland. Word spread to those inside the castilyernov’s walls. The enemy soldiers must fear being trapped between the two armies, the general thought. Many are surrendering; others are dropping their arms and following the other to the west.