Fate of an Empire (Talurian Empire Trilogy Book 1)

by Pasquariello, Jonathan

  Rurik gave him a slight grin, “Yeah, thanks.”

  Amira pulled back the small curtain on the front side of the wagon, which opened to the two men, and poked her head out. “Who are these young men I keep seeing, all dressed in red?”

  “They are the senior class from Dartholme; the military school at the heart of the city,” Rurik answered, “The honor students usually act as the law enforcers of the city, like on-the-job experience, before shipping out to the front lines. They will serve till about two months before graduation.”

  Groups, consisting of two or three young men, scattered about the city, all wearing the formal uniform of the academy, buttons and pins showing their class accomplishments.

  “Interesting,” She smiled, “They are pretty cute.”

  Rurik and Klaric laughed out.

  “They are a little too young for you,” Rurik said, playfully pushing her head back into the wagon and tugging the curtain closed.

  “I know someone who isn’t too young for her…” Klaric gave Rurik a knowing eyebrow raise.

  “I don’t know what you are talking about,” Rurik responded, “She is spoken for.”

  “Whatever you say, my friend. Something happened back on that first day out, I don’t know what it was, but now you two have this weird, sexual tension.” Klaric pantomimed two people embracing, “Oh, I love you!”

  Rurik laughed, “Enough.”

  “Ha! So, you don’t deny it!”

  “There. That’s where we will stay tonight,” Rurik pointed to an inn at the end of the street.

  “Fine, I’ll let you change the subject.” Klaric prepared to jump down and help Rurik lead the wagon into the stable.

  They quickly got the carriage situated, and Rurik went inside to make arrangements for their stay, while Gleb, Amira, and Klaric went through the luggage for items they would need for the night. Galro was free to start rubbing down the horses and seeing to their needs.

  “Do we have a room number yet?” Amira asked. She stood in the doorway, Archaos on one hip, and a bag on the other, with Klaric and Gleb waiting behind her.

  Rurik looked at the irritable innkeeper for an answer, who had been, so far, unhelpful.

  He took a look at the woman holding a baby and sighed, “Room three. Up the stairs and to the left.” He handed Rurik a key.

  Rurik nodded thanks and walked over to Amira, taking her bag. She moved to the stairs first, followed by Rurik then the rest of the group. He couldn’t help but watch her body as she climbed the steps, able to recall her slender hips from memory.

  They reached the top of the staircase and turned left to find their room. Rurik unlocked the door and opened to a small room with two double stacked bunks and a small desk with an accompanying chair.

  Reading the group’s minds, “I’ll take the floor,” Rurik said, setting down the luggage.

  Amira placed a hand on his arm. “Would you mind asking for a crib?”

  “I’ll see what I can do,” Rurik replied with a smile, “You guys get settled in and meet me downstairs in the common room for some supper. I smelt a stew of some kind, coming from the kitchen—far better than our dwindling trail rations.”

  * * *

  Amira stood in front of the small mirror hung on the backside of the door. The others were already downstairs while she was contemplating what to wear.

  Holding up dress after dress, “What do you think?” She said, looking to Archaos, who was propped on one of the bunks.

  He was more interested in trying to fit his whole hand inside his mouth.

  “The blue one it is,” She decided.

  With the baby in tow, she closed the door behind her and walked down the hall to the stairway. She spotted the group sitting near the fire in the back corner of the room. Rurik had kept a spot open next to him, and she noticed how he was quite absent from the conversation, keeping an eye out for her. He stood to his feet and waved her over, motioning for the few men standing in her way, to step aside.

  “Thank you,” Amira said, accepting the pulled out chair.

  “You’re welcome. The food should be here shortly,” said Rurik.

  “Well, I’m going to excuse myself.” Galro stood from his seat. “I have some items to pick up before we leave in the morning.”

  “You can’t wait for the food? You need to eat.” Klaric looked toward the door to the kitchen. “How long does it take to put some stew into a few bowls?”

  “I’ll grab something while I’m out,” Galro responded, pushing his chair in and grabbing his coat off the back.

  “Want some company?” Gleb asked. “I have never been to this city. I wouldn’t mind seeing some of it before we set out tomorrow.”

  “No, no. Stay. Enjoy the food and warmth of the fire. I don’t know how long I’ll be or where I am to go for what we need.” Galro left without waiting for a response from Gleb.

  “Ha!” Klaric laughed, “I think he wants some time alone, maybe needing a quick stop at the whorehouse.” He winked at the young man.

  Gleb shook his head in disgust.

  The kitchen door swung open, and a chubby, short man tripped out, almost losing the contents of his serving tray.

  “Damn it, Elop! Be careful! You are going to cost me another round of ale, spilling food on the customers like that!” The grumpy innkeeper shouted from behind the counter.

  “S-sorry, s-sir.” Elop stammered, weaving in and out of the crowded room. He stopped at the group’s table and started handing out the bowls of lamb stew, then placed a loaf of herbed bread in the center.

  “Thank you,” Rurik said, handing him a coin.

  “Thank you, sir,” Elop bowed. He quickly cleaned off another group’s table and disappeared back into the kitchen.

  The group ate everything, dabbing up the last bits of gravy with the fresh bread and emptying the decanter of wine.

  Amira leaned back in her chair. “That was delicious.”

  Klaric let out a belch. “Agreed.”

  Rurik shot him a disapproving look.

  Suddenly Amira let out a little burp; she quickly put her hands to her mouth.

  Klaric laughed, clapping his hands in the air. “There we go!”

  Amira lost it and started laughing too, followed by Gleb, and then finally, Rurik.

  After finishing one last pitcher of wine, they retired to their room, having enjoyed, a much needed, relaxed evening together. Little Archaos had napped through the entire dinner, resting comfortable in Amira’s lap.

  * * *

  Rurik lay awake on the floor. They had been back in the room for half an hour and Klaric was the only one able to quickly fall asleep, snoring loudly from his top bunk.

  “Where is Galro? He has been gone for three hours,” Gleb whispered. “I’m starting to get worried.”

  “I’m sure he is fine,” Rurik reassured.

  “It has been a long time,” added Amira from her bunk, underneath Klaric’s.

  The door handle rattled.

  “There he is,” Gleb said, pulling himself onto his elbows.

  “I thought we gave him one of the keys,” Rurik grumbled, getting to his feet to unlock the door.

  Rurik was three feet from the door when it burst open with a loud crash, hinges snapping off the frame. Klaric shot up and leapt from his bed. He landed on the floor as five men rushed into the cramped room, all carrying short clubs. Amira grabbed Archaos and crouched low in the back corner of the room. Gleb stood with Rurik and Klaric—the three men waiting for the outnumbered attack.

  The intruders were large, burly men, their heads covered with hoods. They started to slowly circle in, cautious of Rurik and Klaric’s drawn weapons. Rurik took the initiative and jumped behind the desk, overturning it, and putting a barrier between them.

  The five men charged at once, the desk separating them into two lines—Klaric against one, and Rurik, the other.

  Gleb ran down one of the men who had decided to go after Amira. He jumped on his back and wrapp
ed his arms around the man’s neck, dragging him to the floor, choking the life from him.

  Rurik and Klaric slashed out, but the intruders blocked the strikes with their heavy clubs. Rurik did a quick drop and cut through one of the men’s leg, separating it at the knee. He screamed out in pain and fell backward, knocking the one behind him down.

  Shouts could be heard from downstairs. The innkeeper must have overheard the struggle, and now people could be heard running up the stairs—Help? Or more opponents?

  Klaric was hit hard in the chest with the butt of a club, doubling him over. Rurik vaulted over the desk, putting him at the back of the other two attackers. Before they could react, he had his sword through the chest of one and a dagger shoved deep into the other’s groin, severing an artery, gushing blood onto the floor. Another man ran into the room, only to be met by a well-thrown knife, from a kneeling Klaric.

  “Let’s get out of here!” Rurik shouted, wiping the blood from his brow.

  They grabbed what luggage could be gathered quickly and made for the stairs. Upon entering the hallway, they found Galro standing over two other dead attackers, a bloodied sword at his side, and a sack of supplies over his shoulder.

  “Guess it’s a good thing I got here when I did,” Galro said, with a grim look on his face.

  The innkeeper could be heard downstairs. He had called the local city watch, soldiers from the military academy. They weren’t going to give Rurik and company a chance to explain the situation.

  “Pssst…Hey!” A man stepped out of a doorway at the end of the hall. “Come here!”

  Rurik looked at the group for thoughts. He got shrugs all around.

  “Hurry! There is another way out.” The man said.

  “Ah! Might as well.” Rurik grunted, taking off down the hall, followed by the others.

  They reached the doorway, and the man motioned them to follow him to the window. “There is an emergency ladder that goes down off that ledge,” He pointed out along the wall.

  Klaric didn’t hesitate. He pushed the window open and climbed out first, offering his hand to Amira next. Once all were out, they shimmied along the narrow outcrop until reaching the said ladder. Once down, they found their wagon pulled out of the stable, ready for travel.

  Rurik shot their mysterious rescuer a questioning look.

  “You need to get out of here quickly,” He said.

  “Wait! I knew I recognized you!” Klaric stepped closer. “From the common room. You were the one who served us.”

  “Yes, the name is Elop. You need to hurry.” He repeated.

  “How did you know that we were going to be attacked?” Rurik asked.

  “A feeling. I saw some of those men watching you during the night. Pretty much any wealthy merchant that enters the city gets a nice big target on his back. This isn’t the first time I’ve helped a family flee from the scum of the streets.”

  “We thank you then,” Amira smiled.

  Rurik nodded his thanks and jumped into the wagon, grabbing the reins. Klaric joined him, and the rest of the group piled into the back, shifting the cargo around to blockade them in—this wasn’t going to be the smoothest ride. They needed to get out of the city. Fast.

  “I’ll open the gate,” Elop said, running ahead of them.

  The soldiers of the city could be heard coming from the other side of the building. They only had a couple seconds before being cut off from escape. Rurik hurried the horses forward as Elop unlatched the heavy door.

  As he pulled it open, a group of crossbowmen stood ten yards out aiming at the runaway wagon. One of the bowmen let a bolt fly, hitting Elop in the shoulder. The blast blew a gaping, bloody hole in his shoulder, knocking the overweight cook to the ground.

  “Grab him!” Rurik shouted.

  As they passed in the wagon, Galro and Gleb reached from the back and pulled Elop in. When they made it through the open gate, a barrage of crossbow bolts hurled down on the wagon. Klaric grabbed one of the shields that was up front and tried blocking himself and Rurik the best he could. Rurik grimaced at the sight of all the projectiles penetrating into the enclosed part of the wagon, hopefully, the others were well covered.

  Out of range of the crossbowmen, he sped the horses on, making toward the main gate of the city, keeping his eyes alert for any more resistance. They made it to the central road, which ran through the middle of the city. Standing in front of the gate, blocking them from freedom, a line of men stood ready to greet them with the sharp points of their spears. Rurik hesitated for only a moment and then charged forward.

  “Klaric, grab a bow. We only need to take out a few, enough for a hole.” Rurik shouted over the sounds of the speeding wagon, horseshoes slapping on the stone pavement.

  “Right,” Klaric said, quickly notching an arrow and letting it fly.

  One of the far off soldiers wobbled and fell backward. “Good shot,” Rurik nodded to his friend, “Again. Same place. Let’s punch a hole through this line!”

  Three more arrows and three more dead soldiers gave them the space they needed, and by the time the wagon reached the blockade, Rurik slipped right through the gap. The wagon only getting glancing blows from the other spearmen.

  They sped through the gate, out onto the road to Talur. Rurik took one last look back, checking for any pursuers. Underneath the gateway overhang, a capable-looking warrior, with an eye patch over his right eye, sat atop a black stallion. He watched them until they were out of sight.

  Rurik didn’t know who that man was, but had a sneaking suspicion that he was the one who had led the attempt to kill them. He didn’t look the part of a street thug, nor did his soldiers. Something was going on, and Rurik needed to be more on guard than ever. Saris’ warning about others within the empire wanting to harm his family seems warranted. They would keep moving, once at Talur, they should be safe at Saris’ estate.

  Chapter 30: First Encounter

  Balar climbed the stairs of the outer wall, being one of the few awake at the cusp of the coming battle. His senses had woken him in the middle of the night, alarms ringing in his head. It was the group of scouts that he had tagged days before, and they had followed his army all the way to Hillsford.

  He made his way to one of the wall’s towers, planning to search out the Merkadian Army. They had to be close now, and he should be able to sense them. He passed a few soldiers that were on watch, each dropping their eyes when he stepped by. He decided on a nice spot, clear of unwanted viewers, and focused his powers, sending out his magically enhanced perception. He quickly found the group of scouts, hiding nearby in an abandoned farmhouse on the outskirts of the city, no doubt left by one of the fleeing families after the fires.

  He glided over them, looking for the army. His mind’s eye reached an area of land that was extremely hilly. The location would hide the Merkadian Army from the view of the city. He crested the horizon, and, as he thought, they were there, inching closer with each passing minute.

  Balar searched for a familiar lifeforce and located Taverous, riding beside, who could only be, King Melidarius. It was time. They didn’t seem very concerned with setting up camp.

  There was going to be bloodshed before dawn.

  Balar quickly reined in his awareness and moved to alert Saris and his army. “I hope you are still competent enough to battle me, Taverous. I have a whole bunch of new tricks.” He said to himself, smiling, as he confidently, and casually, strolled down the walkway, already conjuring his first attack.

  * * *

  “It’s time!” Melidarius shouted out to the assembled soldiers. He galloped back and forth along the wide stretch of his army. General Vyker a stride behind. “The Talurians will pay in blood for their past deeds.” The Chieftains from the other tribes yelled out translated versions of Melidarius’ words.

  “For our dead ancestors, fathers, mothers, brothers, and sisters. For destroying our lands and food sources over the years, causing famine and strife. There will be blood spilt to quench our lo
ng awaited thirst for vengeance!” Melidarius reared his horse back and lifted his sword into the air, roaring in the night. The soldiers howled back, beating their spears on the ground and drumming their swords on their shields. “They know we are coming. Let’s give them something to fear!”

  Off to the side, Taverous stood watching the display, watching the bestial expression of decades, even centuries, of abuse from the Talurians. He knew at that moment he had chosen the right side in the coming battle. He needed to make sure they won.

  This was the first time since the Blood War of the Tearanei that he had felt so emboldened with purpose. Then, while relishing the moment, his senses boomed around him. He spun around and noticed his Tearanei guardians had also felt something.

  “They have come out to meet us,” Taverous said.

  The three nodded in confirmation.

  “King!” Taverous yelled over the noise of the crowd.

  Melidarius heard him and hurried over. “What is it?” he asked, leaning down from his horse.

  “Your majesty, they have come out to meet you. They are just over the hill.” Taverous cautioned, “Be weary, we do not know what dark powers may be at play here. My ominous vision is not to be taken lightly.”

  Melidarius grinned, “We shall see.” He rode back over to the anxious army and raised his sword once more, “Charge!”

  Taverous watched the warrior King lead his army over the hill, barely staying in range of his loyal General. Melidarius was overcome with the thrill of battle, not willing to be cautioned. Taverous motioned for his guardians to follow and he too crested the hill.

  Nearly tripping over each other, the army was halted by the jarring sight of Hillsford. Not because of a great army, or menacing war machines, or even showings of powerful magic. They stopped because of the complete lack of life encompassing everything before them. There were no fires burning along the city walls, no light coming from inside the buildings, no noise of alarm, and no hustle of troops coming to meet them.