Fate of an Empire (Talurian Empire Trilogy Book 1)

by Pasquariello, Jonathan

  Amira emerged from her tent. She walked to the wagon with her luggage in hand, passing them without saying a word. Suddenly, Rurik realized that she was walking directly toward Klaric. He hadn’t found the time to talk to her about him.

  She stopped next to him, leaned down, and shouted, “Time to get up!”

  Klaric jumped, got his feet tangled in the blankets, and awkwardly falling forward into the dirt.

  “What the hell, woman!” Klaric struggled to get his legs free and stumbled after her.

  Rurik shook his head and looked at Galro. “This is going to be a long trip, Private.”

  * * *

  After a time, the wagon lurched forward, back onto the main road—on to the next stop. A man stepped out from the foliage, still mostly hidden by shadows, followed by a second, who stood off to his side. The first was well dressed and young, in his early twenties. The second was rough and scarred, with a black patch over one of his eyes, and a good ten years older.

  “It Looks like father’s information was correct,” The younger one said, “He will be most pleased to find that Saris’ heir and bride ride with but a few soldiers and a useless slave. This should be easy for you, Krul. We will make sure that any new information we receive is forwarded directly you. You know where our setups are at. Check in often. Wait for the go ahead.” He turned to the scruffy fighter and eyed him sternly. “Don’t mess this up.”

  Krul nodded and, with a whistle, called a black stallion from the trees. He mounted and took off after the wagon, trailing them from afar.

  Chapter 26: Meeting the Maker

  While Rurik was leading his group south, toward the capital, the Merkadian and Kitamite escapees from the half-accomplished execution were headed north, to meet their brothers-in-arms. But, they wouldn’t be away from Hillsford for long, rejoining with the army would bring them right back. They needed to warn Melidarius of Jol’s treasonous volunteering of information.

  The group of men ran, walked, stumbled, and climbed for miles. Dageros had to use copies of himself to help them over obstacles a number of times. Kaillum headed the group, keeping a torturous pace, never stopping for more than two hours at a time. He had spent his last night in the city mapping out their escape, and had his own plan to free them, but what ended up happening worked out well—probably better.

  They were now within the border of Kilgar, traveling to cut off the Merkadian forces. King Melidarius and his head officer, General Vyker, needed to know that Saris was still alive and, no doubt, preparing for the defense of Hillsford, the geographical gateway to the Talurian Empire.

  The most direct route to the capital city.

  The group reached the Black River—a deep, rocky, twisting abyss of water. The Merkadian army would be traveling wide around the river, as to avoid the unforgiving waters, but if Kaillum and company could find a way across, it would be the shortcut they needed to rejoin the army.

  The river had claimed many Kilgarians over the years, till they developed specially built rafts to cross, always making sure to secure them to their own side of the river—an extremely effective natural defense for the primitive people. The Talurians would have swallowed their tribe years ago if it wasn’t for that river.

  “We will stop here for the night,” Kaillum said. He threw down his heavy pack and searched the surrounding area for dried wood to start a fire. “We can try to find a safe place to cross in the morning.”

  After finding only a few logs worthy of a fire, the bull of a man, Ryon, offered to chop down a nearby tree. Kaillum wondered if the noise would alert someone to their location, but he didn’t suspect anyone to still be following.

  The gentle, night breeze danced across the water, putting a chill to the air and, before long, the fire was going, and the four men were nestled around the pit, wrapped in heavy blankets. They all fell quickly to their body’s call for sleep. The first real calm since leaving the city.

  * * *

  Light shown through Kaillum’s eyelids, stirring him from his sleep.

  He pulled himself to a seated position. The fire had all but died out, but the sun was starting to creep over the far off mountains. He looked out across the river, squinting in the direction of the light. It moved closer, off the far bank and out into the water. Ceth and Dageros slept to either side of him; he shook each awake.

  Ryon was to his feet with a sword in hand the second he heard the other men’s movement. The man moved with incredible speed for someone his size. He was first to the water’s edge, his hand shading his eyes.

  “What is it?” Dag narrowed his eyes.

  “I don’t know.” Ceth and Kaillum said in unison.

  Ryon anxiously held his sword at his side. “It reeks of magic to me,” He growled.

  “And you can smell magic?” Dag sarcastically asked, as one of his copies snuck up and smacked Ryon on the shoulder.

  The huge man spun around, swinging his sword wildly in the air.

  Dageros nearly fell down laughing, “Didn’t smell that one did you!”

  Ryon glared at the boy, cursing at him under his breath.

  While the young man laughed at his own prank, Kaillum and Ceth lowered their weapons and fell to the ground.

  “Hey! Hey!” Dag sprinted over to his brother and slide to the ground next to him, trying to shake him awake.

  Ryon crouched down and checked their pulses, “They’re alive, just unconscious.” He stood to his feet and grabbed Dag by his shoulder, pulling him along. “Someone or something has put them to sleep. We need to move back. Get to the trees.”

  Dag resisted his urge to argue and followed Ryon back up the bank of the river and into the tree line. There was a greater chance to save them, once they knew what they were up against.

  The light got so close to the southern side of the river that Ceth and Kaillum were completely hidden from sight. As the light moved onto dry land, it slowly faded, revealing four men, walking across the water.

  One was making a strange, circler motion in the air with his hands. A glittering light pulsed out from underneath him, casting an aura that lay under each man’s feet. The water seemed to harden right when their feet touched down, allowing them to casually walk across the unrelenting Black River.

  Dageros studied the men.

  Three of them looked a lot like himself and his brother, with the ridge along their head and glowing eyes, but without the hair. Other than his own family, he had never seen anyone else like him. The fourth man was more normal looking and significantly older. He wore an intimidating set of armor, with an, even more, intimidating sword at his side. The blade looked made of ice, with flames flickering up and down the edge.

  He was the first to speak. “Check them. Make sure they are alright.”

  The one who had worked them across the water knelt down beside Kaillum and Ceth. “Resting comfortably, Master.”

  The old one scanned the tree line. He was clearly the leader among them.

  “I can sense another one,” he said, “This trip is taking an unexpected turn. This one…” he pointed to Kaillum. “And the other one watching us from the trees are both Tearanei… but not entirely.” His voice trailed off, deep in thought.

  The other two men took defensive positions around him.

  Dag was trembling. That man was able to sense where he was. He had to strike now. Ryon, reading his body language, shook his head, but Dag couldn’t help it. He ran from their cover, casting multiple copies of himself, with Ryon following and grunting behind him.

  Dag and his copies blasted out of the trees, charging the attackers.

  The old one nonchalantly waved his hand, and all seven copies evaporated into the air, leaving the two men stopped, stunned and hesitant, seeing that they were obviously no match for these strangers. They kept their weapons poised, ready to defend against an attack, but none came.

  The group seemed completely at ease. They didn’t even rest their hands close to their weapons.

  The leader moved tow
ard Dageros and Ryon, pushing between his guardians.

  “Please, we mean no harm.” He smiled.

  “What did you do to my brother?”

  “My friend put them to sleep,” He replied, “It was meant for all of you, but you two were having some kind of squabble and, as he cast the spell, moved out of reach.”

  Ryon snarled, “Told you it was magic.”

  The old man ignored him. “My name is Taverous, and my traveling partners are Arclite, the warrior…” He nodded to the tall, athletically built man, wearing a silver-blue platemail suit, which covered every inch of his body. Only his hauntingly alert eyes were visible through the grated helmet. The armor was clearly one of a kind—sleek and custom fitted to his exact size and shape. Across his back lay two long, slender swords.

  Taverous then pointed to the man who had been working to get them across the water, “Mathis, a priest of Dar’jaal.” He was wrapped in a heavy brown robe, embellished with inlays and symbols. He resonated out a serene manner. His arms crossed in front of him, hidden by his long sleeves.

  “And lastly,” Taverous said, “We have, Lasal, the seer.” The man was wearing a forester type outfit—Leather tunic and trousers, good boots, a wide band tied around his forehead, and a long rider’s coat over his shoulders. He leaned on a staff that looked well-worn and he no doubt knew how to defend himself with it. Small throwing daggers and vials of strangely-colored substances dotted his costume, leaving to guess what else was secreted away.

  “They are Tearanei, like you.” Taverous pointed to Dag.

  Dag had a confused look on his face. “Tearanei?” He questioned, “My name is Dageros, Captain of Merkadia. I’m sorry, but you are mistaken. I am of Merkadia.”

  Taverous decided to not press the matter for now. “And you, the big one?”

  Ryon was starting to relax, “My name is Ryon. I am a warrior of Kitam.”

  “And what about these two?” Taverous walked back over to Kaillum and Ceth, who were sound asleep on the ground.

  “That is my older brother, Kaillum,” answered Dag. “But you probably already guessed we were related. Before seeing you three…” he nodded toward Arclite, Mathis, and Lasal, “I’d never seen anyone like myself, outside my own family.”

  “And the other is, Ceth,” Ryon finally put his sword away. “He is my Commander and leader of our tribe.”

  “How did you end up together? Three captains and a soldier running through the middle of nowhere. There has got to be a fantastic story behind that.”

  “Fantastic might not be the best word for it,” Dag laughed. “But whatever you want to call it, it’s a long one.”

  Taverous sat down, “Well we have time.”

  He motioned to the sleeping men. “They won’t be awake for a little and even you can’t go very long carrying them.” Taverous grinned at Ryon.

  * * *

  Taverous paced back and forth, nodding to himself, “Yes, yes. This must have something to do with why I am here. The day I had my vision, there was a darkness so daunting, yet familiar. The cloud that represented the evil in my dream was covering the southern part of the island, which is why we have crossed paths. It seems this Talurian Empire that your people are at war with may be the reason behind the darkness, or at the very least, be involved with it.”

  The men had sat down together and, over the last hour, Dag and Ryon recounted the events of the last couple of weeks: The new war that had started on the island. The many sides involved. The failed assassination attempt, and why they were in such a hurry to reach their army.

  Taverous continued, telling them more of his background, trying to make them believe in his unimaginable nature. He talked about the birth of the Tearanei race, coinciding fall of the Searanei, and the devastating Blood War, started by his traitor brother, Balar, that had left the people group close to extinction. Stories were rarely spread of the Ancients, and from recollection, neither he nor his brothers, had been to this continent.

  Kaillum and Ceth slowly awakened during the storytelling. Dag and Ryon calmed them, before someone was assaulted and, in no time, they relaxed enough to join in on the conversation.

  “Do you really believe we are of your kind?” asked Kaillum.

  “Partly,” Taverous started, “You have some of the magic, yet mutated, some of the physical features and, most convincing to me, is the fact that I am able to sense your life forces. Call it a benefit of the creator.”

  “Our mother is more like you—bald, but without the magic, to any degree.” Dag pointed at the three Tearanei. “We obviously knew we were different but never knew what we really were.”

  Kaillum took over the conversation, “Before we were born, our mother was found in the forests of our homeland, injured and alone. She was taken in by the Merkadians. Once she was conscious, it was apparent that she had lost any memory from before her injury, not even able to explain her differences. So, while being surrounded by thousands of Merkadians, she still felt alone. Until, she met the man who would later become our father.

  “Yes, he was still different from her, in a physical sense, but they became inseparable and fell in love. Our birth must have been the first time that the Tearanei race had mixed with humans. When we started showing signs of our powers, it scared a lot of people. Our mother was looked to for an explanation, but she had none. If it was something that came from her people, she had no memory of it.”

  Taverous stroked his chin. “It’s very interesting that you two each have only one special talent. From what you have said today, it seems to come naturally, without having to evoke any spell—very different from the full-blooded Tearanei. They can learn a multitude of spells and incantations, but each varies in difficulty and energy expenditure. This must be a transmutation from the mixing of blood. All very fascinating.”

  Taverous smiled, tickled by the first inspiration for his people group in centuries.

  Ryon cleared his throat. “I’m really sorry to break up this exciting family reunion, but we still need to find our army.”

  “Oh yes,” Taverous grabbed Kaillum’s arm and led, or pulled, him over to Lasal. “I feel that we should accompany you. The darkness that I saw is most certainly involved with what is going on here and, whatever it is, you will need us. You will travel like us, and we have much faster means.” He grinned, “Lasal has a natural aptitude for the type of magic that will be useful for this.”

  “And what will this be?” asked Ceth, who had kept quiet most of the time, trying to assimilate all the strange information.

  “Wonderful and awkward, my new friend,” Taverous winked, “Kaillum, I need you to concentrate on the men you know will be marching with the army. Close your eyes and estimate the area of the island you think they will be near. What’s the terrain like? How many men would there be? Picture the war banners flying. Be open in thought, Lasal will decipher the raw information.”

  Lasal’s eyes were burning brightly. He hummed a soft tune and placed his hands on either side of Kaillum’s head.

  “Okay. Everyone, join hands. Lasal, direct my jump.” Taverous said.

  Connecting with Lasal, Taverous blinked the men into thin air, leaving the river bank empty and silent.

  * * *

  “Be careful, Taverous, you always side with the losing team.” The undead leader waved his hand in the air, dismissing the hazy, viewing portal.

  The death mage had taken Captain Barolas’ body and raised an army from the bodies of the massacred Talurians. He was now leading them south, toward his, as of this moment, unknowing ally, General Saris. They had been traveling slowly and only at night, keeping to the trees, straying from any unwanted contact.

  He turned his newly inhabited body around to face one of his mangled soldiers, who rattled off a string of cryptic words, which would be unrecognizable to any living being, but the leader nodded in acknowledgment.

  “Whoever is tracking us will never be able to get close enough to identify who we are. And if they mana
ge to, I will sense it and deal with it myself. Now, no more questions. We have nothing to worry about.”

  The soldier grunted and walked away, leaving the leader to use his powers to locate the scouts that he had just been warned of. He picked out their life forces: one female and seven males. With a mental note, he tagged all eight. They would never be able to come within miles of his army without alerting him. He grinned in satisfaction.

  “Only a few more miles to Hillsford,” He said to himself. “Hope you are ready for me, Saris.”

  Chapter 27: The King

  The fires had been snuffed out, and everyone was awake, with quite a bit of cursing alongside. The eclectic mixture of men stumbled around tearing down tents and readying the wagons. They hurried their morning meal, preparing for another hard day of travel—another morning on the campaign trail.

  “How far off do you think we are from the city?” one of the men asked. He was from Chargon and his speech, when using the common tongue, was heavily accented.

  The man he was asking shook his head.

  “You don’t even know what I’m saying,” He grunted, “You Targans are all the same, never wanting to advance yourselves. Probably can’t even learn the language if you tried.”

  “Why don’t you shut your mouth.” A large Targan warrior walked over. “You never know who might be listening.” He cradled a heavy club in his arms.

  Another man ran up and pushed the two apart. “Okay, let’s not start fighting each other, before we even have a chance at the Talurians.” It was Amhar, Chieftain of the Chargon tribe. The man whom Thandril had spied on weeks before.

  The big Targan warrior laughed, “That’s right, Chieftain, you better protect your little warriors.” He turned to walk away.

  Out of nowhere, came a giant flash of light, making the men around jump back. The light faded, revealing a strange looking group of eight men—eight men that were not there a moment before.