by T B Phillips
“No! I’m loyal to the people of the Empire!”
Marcus shook his head. “Tsk. Tsk. You’re loyal to the people, but not to my mother. Those are the kind of words that incite revolutions.”
Brohn continued, “You conspired with a northern aggressor and promised that you would help overthrow his brother in Fjorik.”
Marcus acted shocked at the accusation and feigned surprise. “Why! That’s treason, chancellor!”
Brohn motioned for two soldiers to take the man into custody. “Chancellor Gedon, you’re under arrest for soliciting the murder of the Queen Regent and for attempting a coup.”
“Show of hands. Anyone against placing emergency powers of succession in my hands while we investigate the involvement of my brother with the chancellor?” Marcus looked around the room at the shocked faces. “None opposed? Good. Then it’s settled. Now everyone, get out while I start my investigation.” He held his fingers up as quotation marks when he said, “investigation,” laughing as he did at his private joke. The cabinet scrambled away as quickly as they could, not staying to watch the soldiers chain the chancellor.
After the room had cleared, Marcus watched Matteas Brohn casually stride to the doors, closing and barring them from the inside. “What is this, Matteas?” He asked as he poured himself a glass of wine. “Why are you locking us in?”
“Because, your excellency. We’re in need of a conversation.” A deep voice from behind drew his attention. The prince looked up to see a Falconer, having entered from some secret entrance.
“Oh, we are, are we? Wait. Aren’t you the Falconer from the exchange?” Marcus looked thoughtful for a moment and then added, “You witnessed how my mother really died.” Taking a long drink, the prince gestured toward the intruder. “Matteas, tie up this loose end.”
The specter walked toward the table, dragging a fingertip along the cheek of Lady Crestal’s remains. “I am your overseer, Prince Marcus.”
“Listen to the man, Marcus.” Brohn poured himself a glass, sniffing it before downing in a gulp and pouring some more.
“Don’t you and the other freaks work for my family?”
“No. Actually, your family works for us.”
“Matteas, run this idiot through.”
“Can’t do it, My Lord.” Matteas held up a finger, wagging it back and forth as he talked. “I said to listen to the man.”
“My name is Arch-Falcon Kestrel and I represent another party. One highly interested in the success of your family in the domination of this continent.”
“We already rule the world.”
“If you say so.” The large bird man chuckled breathlessly, letting out a little squawk as he did. “As I was saying, I represent a party that placed your family on the throne eight hundred years ago and has an interest in your success. Your mother cooperated and was allowed to rule after the death of your father.” The Falconer mimicked the same finger quotations as he said, “father.”
Marcus looked at Brohn, and the Captain General smiled back, lifting his glass into the air in a silent toast.
“This is preposterous.” Marcus spoke to Brohn. “If you don’t shut him up then I will.”
“Listen to him speak, boy.”
“No!” Marcus drew his knife and charged at Kestrel, but the creature-like man stepped aside at the last moment and the blade slashed only the air. Turning, the specter raised his hand and a gust of wind blasted Marcus backward, hard against the wall. The Falconer strode calmly toward him smiling. All of a sudden, wisps of air began wrapping themselves around Marcus’ wrists, legs and ankles. It felt as if he wore invisible shackles and the prince could no longer move. “What… is this…” Before he could finish his sentence, another band of air wrapped around his mouth, gagging his speech and cutting off his breath.
“Listen to me speak. You have interrupted far too often in this little exchange.” The young prince’s eyes grew wide and tears slowly trickled from their corners. “Your weapons are useless, as I can see your every move before you even think about making it.” Bending down, he picked up the fallen blade and then strode back toward the boy on the ground. He stooped low beside him, blade out, reflecting the light from the window.
Marcus felt terror within his gut. Even when the pirate had kidnapped him, he wasn’t afraid. But this large man dressed in feathers and holding his own knife induced panic like the prince had never known. He fought to breathe against the invisible gag but failed. Warm urine flowed down the front of his trousers, spilling out onto the marbled stone floor.
Kestrel looked down at the mess and smiled. “Thank you for your undivided attention.” He leisurely returned the boy’s knife to the sheath on his belt, then rose and stood over him. With the wave of his hand a gust of air rushed in and Marcus could breathe. He gasped and cried as the panic subsided.
“As I was saying. I represent another party. No, before you ask, the party is not a single nobleman in your kingdom. I represent a people who you’ve never heard of. Their technology far surpasses your own, and they are in fact the benefactors who gave your family the advantages that you currently possess.”
Marcus looked toward Brohn who nodded at the truth in the words. “That’s how we got the cannons and black powder, boy. The Pescari used to be more numerous than they are now and even occupied the eastern side of the Misting River. The Falconers brought us the technology that drove them back, forcing them to live across The Forbidden Waste.”
“Cannons. How quaint.” Kestrel had returned to the conference table and absently twirled Crestal’s hair with his talon-like finger. “You’ll rule this land, Marcus Esterling, and the Falconers will assist you in your civil war against your brother. We’ll even grant you technologies to tip the odds in your favor if need be. But make no mistake in believing that you are in control. You will rule within the boundaries that we set, or we will replace you. Other than that, the Empire is yours.”
Marcus coughed and asked, “What is it that you want me to do?”
“Much better. You will do three things. First, you will allow the Ministry of Information to operate as a sovereign entity and you will never meddle or allow meddling in their work. Secondly, my Falconers will continue their work uninterrupted. You will never allow anyone to question their valuable mission on this continent. And finally, you will keep a chancellor of our choosing as the head of the council in perpetuity.” The Falconer turned the head so that the vacant eyes of Crestal Esterling stared back at her son, bound and laying in a puddle of urine. “Any questions or complaints?”
The prince shook his head.
“Good.” With the wave of a hand the restraints disappeared, and Marcus sprawled on the floor. “You may start by elevating Lord Campton Shol to chancellor as soon as you wrap up Gedon’s trial. Oh, and go clean up. The future king of the Esterling Dynasty should not be lying in his own piss.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Robert watched Sarai run from the room and shook his head in wonder at the angry display. The still form of Governor Horslei lay on the cot, and he watched the man’s chest slowly rise and lower with shallow, rhythmic breaths. How can she fail to see that her father might have died at the hands of those savages? Is she so blinded that she can’t see the danger they pose to lawful citizens?
His thoughts were interrupted by the return of the palace guard with an older man, slightly bent and carrying a medicine bag. The surgeon pulled up a chair and began examining the governor, carefully looking over his body for unseen and internal injuries. After a few moments, he opened the man’s eyelids and checked his pupils for reaction.
Nodding, he looked to Robert and gave a positive prognosis. “He has a head injury and may regain consciousness at any time. We will have to wait. In the meantime, I am going to have to reset this leg of his that was broken in the fall.” Robert nodded and then left Abraham Horslei in the capable hands of his guards a
nd his surgeon.
He walked outside of the palace and immediately saw that General Reeves had organized the line of troops. A command was given, and shields moved on the line to reveal the aging mentor. A squire ran up and handed Robert both shield and sword, then they both hurried to rejoin the formation. As he ran, he glanced over his shoulder at the gate and line of Pescari. Where a ten-foot-solid wall had once held the gatehouse, a gaping hole smoldered from the explosion of powder stores.
“Well boy, it looks like our friends are afraid to come in.” The general pointed toward the Pescari boy, Taros. He still stood before the entrance, but he no longer burned with flames. Not an inch of his body appeared to be harmed by the fire that had raged. “He’s been standing like that for about ten minutes. His flames puffed out and he quit burning when you and your girlfriend ran into the palace.”
Robert nodded, staring wide-eyed at the remains of the gatehouse. “Are we going to advance the shield wall? If we move the line to where the gate stood, then we can hit him with crossbows from behind the shields. Those bolts move faster than arrows and can probably get through without him burning them.”
Max smiled in approval. “You’re getting better at this soldiering thing, your highness. I was thinking the exact same tactic and was waiting for you to arrive. Are you ready to die for your crown, Prince Esterling?”
A small laugh escaped Robert as he nodded his agreement. “I’m ready to kill him for it like you taught me, General.”
“Then give the command, boy. The army is yours.”
“Shield wall!” Robert’s voice boomed and two thousand soldiers snapped to attention, banging shields against one another in a chorus of metal. “Forward march!” Boots hit the ground in unison, stomping and advancing toward the hole where the wall had once stood. Step. As they marched Robert watched Taros. He’s just standing there, looking exhausted and worn out. Step. Something’s wrong, he thought. Step. Is this a trap? Step. The Pescari warriors raised their bows from atop their horses. Step. The boy wasn’t even flinching. Step.
“Stop!” A female voice came from the palace doors.
Robert turned his head and saw that Sarai had emerged with a man. Step. Is her father awake? Step. Looking closer he realized that the man was Cassus Eachann, leader of the Humanitarian faction. Step. Wasn’t he imprisoned by her father just yesterday? Step. Surely Sarai did not release her father’s political rival. Step. That would be a foolish move on her part, one that would have lasting effects after her father awakens. Step.
“Halt your formation!” Eachann’s voice rang out from beside Sarai.
Robert looked at Max. Neither had any desire to halt, and instead wanted to end this battle and kill the menace that had caused so much bedlam the night before. Step. He watched as Sarai ran out in front of the advancing army toward the Pescari boy. Step. Cassus followed her and they raced across the courtyard toward the gap in the wall. Step. No, she wouldn’t be this foolish. Step. Yes. Yes, she would. Step. From nearby buildings several other people emerged. Step. These, like Sarai and Cassus, also ran toward the boy. Step. Soon, a group of about twenty citizens, including Robert’s love, stood before the boy unarmed.
“Company, halt!” The order came from General Reeves and the entire column of soldiers stopped marching with a resounding stomp of boot on dirt.
Robert watched dumbfounded as Sarai embraced the Pescari boy, hugging him while Eachann spoke with the man Robert knew as Taros’ uncle Teot. After a moment, he turned to face the column of Imperial soldiers. In a loud and commanding voice, he addressed both the soldiers and the citizens, who were emerging from their homes to watch the spectacle. “The Weston governor is incapacitated and unable to rule. As lead councilman, I take control of the city. These refugees are under my protection and will be granted safe harbor within the walls until suitable resettlement can be arranged.”
Looking toward General Reeves, Robert could see silent fury in his mentor’s eyes. “Can he do that, Max?” He asked softly.
“I’m afraid he can, boy. We have to stand down, unless Horslei wakes up and miraculously intervenes.”
Eachann addressed the general directly. “General Reeves. Your army is no longer needed within the incorporated city walls of Weston. Per Article Five, Section Three of the Weston Imperial Constitution, I invoke the right of the city to refuse martial law.” The general’s cheeks danced as he listened to the politician, teeth grinding against his anger. “I demand that you immediately turn your force around and march to a new position no less than ten miles from the border of our sovereignty.”
“You are a fool, Cassus! You’re putting all of these citizens in danger!” Robert could not hold back the words that flew from his mouth. He knew that he should remain silent, but added, “These Pescari are not refugees! They’re invaders and possess dark and dangerous magic! You’ll be begging the general to retake this city before long!” After he spoke, he cringed at the furious and hateful expression on the face of Sarai. Inside, he knew without doubt that he had lost her forever.
“Ambassador Esterling,” Eachann addressed him directly, “you are an emissary of the Imperial crown and have a right to observe our self-governance without interference. On behalf of the ruling council I extend you further invitation to remain a silent witness to our generosity as we welcome our allies from across the Forbidden Waste. Any future meddles into our sovereign affairs will not be tolerated.”
Mouth agape, Robert stared back at the council leader. “Future meddles? Are you implying that I had a hand in the breakdown of last night’s talks?”
Nodding, Eachann continued. “Although you are young and most likely meant well, we cannot forgive the fact that your lack of diplomatic experience led directly to a breakdown of negotiations.”
“Breakdown? Of negotiations?” Scoffing, the prince pushed aside the shield to his left, emerging from the formation and throwing his shield down on the ground. “What you are implying, Councilman Eachann, is treason! I am the crown prince and heir of the Esterling dynasty!”
“I see only a boy playing soldier and using real lives as his toys. You’ve not passed your trials, and the governors have not voted to pledge their allegiance. Your mother rules until you can gain their favor and claim the title of Emperor,” louder and to the gathered audience he added, “if that ever truly happens.”
This time it was Sarai’s voice that addressed Robert. “Go with your soldiers, Robert. Leave the city because you’re not welcome here.” She then grabbed the hand of Taros and led him toward the palace. Cassus and Teot began waving in the warriors, women, and children who gingerly stepped through the burned out remains of the gatehouse. The wretched mass of people slowly streamed into the city, dragging their belongings behind them as they had done for so many days across the desert and plains.
Behind Robert, Maximus gave the order to turn, and the retreating boot stomps sounded the exit of the Imperial troops through the eastern gate. Standing alone in the courtyard, shield on the ground and sword tip angled uselessly in the dirt, the crown prince of the Esterling dynasty was bewildered, exhausted and beaten. He had finally found his strength as both a military leader and a statesman but lost all credibility as a ruler in one swift political move. His mouth gaped, devoid of words and as empty as his heart. Tears fell as he watched the love of his life take Taros by the arm, leading him toward the palace.
Sarai Horslei could not look at Robert as she passed by, leading the Pescari boy by the arm. She felt heartbroken by his betrayal. He’s no better than General Reeves or my father. In her mind he was the same as them and she had no place in her life for warmongers.
She had believed that he was truly a humanitarian and would secure the refugees a place within the city walls. But he had lied and somehow tricked the Pescari into attacking. Where love had once filled her, resentment now boiled up instead. She refused to look at him standing in the courtyard, wanting instea
d for him to leave her city.
Yet, inside she felt conflicted. She had truly fallen in love. He was everything that she considered attractive and she also found him intelligent, vulnerable and honest with his emotions. She had longed for a marriage with him that would further strengthen the bonds of the eastern and western halves of the empire. Now, as she passed him by, her heart yearned for her eyes to meet his. Her lips longed to give his one last lingering goodbye. With Horslei stubbornness she willed her eyes and her body forward.
Her hands held the arm of the Pescari boy, leading him like a frightened toddler. She had expected his skin to be hot where the fire had engulfed him, but instead it was cold as ice. As they crossed the courtyard, she looked him over. His skin, browned by constantly living under the sun, did not show any signs of injury from the flames. Where he had been visibly angry when she and Eachann had first approached, his face now wore a confused expression that seemed to study Sarai. His eyes were fixed on her, two dark brown orbs that shown slightly with gold specks that danced in the torchlight of the courtyard.
Several warriors ran up alongside them as they walked. The boy waved them off, saying something in Pescari to make them return to their duty of ushering in their people. They cast several nervous glances over their shoulder, obviously worrying over his safety. She could sense that he was not afraid to leave his people as he walked with her to the palace.
Once they had passed out of earshot of Robert, she softly spoke to the boy. “My name is Sarai. I want to welcome you and your people to my city.”
He opened and then closed his mouth, as if he were trying to form the words without actually producing the noise. After a moment, he replied in a deep accent, “I am Taros.”
She smiled at Taros as warmly as she could, despite wanting to cry over Robert’s lies and betrayal. “I’m pleased to meet you, Taros. I’m bringing you into the palace so you can relax after your ordeal. You’re very cold, so I’ll have servants draw you a hot bath and bring you food before we meet with Cassus Eachann.”