Fate of an Empire (Talurian Empire Trilogy Book 1)

by Pasquariello, Jonathan

  Taverous reached a confused, Melidarius.

  “Explain this.” The King kept his eyes forward.

  Before he could respond, another blast assaulted Taverous’ senses. “Something is very wrong.”

  A scream cut through the night, followed by a blood-choked gurgle, then another, and another. Sounds of uneasiness spread through the army. The screams were coming from their fellow soldiers.

  “What’s going on?” Melidarius growled, looking at Taverous for an explanation.

  Kaillum and Dageros pulled up to the men, both riding from opposite sides of the army, leading different companies.

  “We are suffering casualties and we don’t know why,” said Kaillum.

  “Same with us,” Dag added. They both had fearful looks on their faces.

  “Sir,” Vyker rode up with blood splattered on his shield and face. “We need to get out of here, this place is haunted. The men are randomly being torn apart by unseen magic. One died right next to me.”

  “Unseen magic…” Taverous whispered to himself. He had an idea. “I’m going to try something. Prepare yourselves.”

  Taverous spread out his arms.

  After a moment, a yellow glow started to emanate from his body, flickering in the night. He shouted and the light extended momentarily, then he repeated it, causing the light to flash again, this time, farther out. On the third time, the light showed figures that were not visible a moment before, and when the blast of light faded again, the beings were covered with a glittering essence, keeping them visible.

  “Shadow demons! Aim for their heads!” Taverous yelled to the men.

  The soldiers didn’t hesitate, charging the closest ones. The creatures cringed at their discovery, crouching down, baring their long fangs and stretching out their clawed hands. A mob of soldiers fell upon one and, with a roar of victory, they waved the glittering head in the darkness.

  Taverous turned to Arclite, Mathis, and Lasal, “Go! We don’t know how many of them are there. Help along the line.”

  The three spread out across the field, each using their own magic to help the army.

  Lasal released glowing orbs into the air, which would tag any of the demons, in the way that Taverous’ pulses had. Mathis channeled a spotlight over his head that picked out any invisible movement and focused on it, pointing out the demons to the soldiers. Arclite ran through the darkness, blades were drawn and bright beams shooting from his eyes. The spell enabled him to see the demons, and four fell before they knew they had been revealed.

  Within minutes, the attack was over, but the army had lost nearly four hundred men, most of them before Taverous had discovered the demons. The army had seen their new allies in action and was grateful for their help. Magic was something they were not prepared to combat.

  A low rumble echoed from the city, silencing the troops. What was coming for them now? The rumble turned into a roar, and the soldiers watched as a figure stood atop the wall of Hillsford, backlit by a blood-red glow. The howl of anger had an inhuman range to it, traveling the three hundred yards that separated the army from the outer wall, coaxing the soldiers’ hands to their ears.

  * * *

  Balar held his scream out for what felt like an eternity. Saris, Thandril, and Captain Arteus kept hidden behind the wall, hands clasped to their ears, cringing at the horrid sound.

  Then, Balar stopped. The contorted look of anger faded from his face, and now all was serene about him.

  “Taverous brought help. His damned Tearanei,” Balar said, directed at no one. “I think it is time to rattle him up a little.” He grinned.

  He conjured the impenetrable shield that he had used during the massacre at camp and shot out his consciousness across the open battleground. A tiny shard of red light sped through the air and reached Taverous, engulfing him in a glowing bubble.

  * * *

  Taverous blinked his eyes, trying to focus them.

  He was no longer on the battlefield.

  Where am I?

  He stood amidst a desert of sloping sands and twisted winds. The sky was black and starless, but the sand was lit up as if kissed by the midday sun. Taverous no longer wore his custom armor, nor carried his blade. He was wrapped in a robe that he had not worn in a very long time, not since the Three were united. The robe was of green material and embroidered across the back was his symbol of the Protector.

  Taverous had not worn this robe since the day Rykin, the Summoner, died, and Balar, the Champion, had been destroyed. Why wear a robe that marks you as one of the Three, when there is only one left?

  The sands before him swirled and churned, as a figure emerged from beneath. The figure was dressed in a black robe, a hood hiding any features. He walked to Taverous, stopping inches away. At the extremely close proximity, Taverous could see that the hood didn’t hide anything, the man actually had no distinct facial features—a blank face, yet a horrifyingly familiar presence.

  “With all of my being, I had hoped this wasn’t the answer to my searching, but in the deepest parts of my heart, brother, I knew you were at the center of this evil.” Taverous sighed, dropping his head.

  The phantom shifted into a man, slightly shorter than Taverous, and his face contorted into a new shape, yet old and all too recognizable. “So, Taverous, you suspected me?” Balar smirked, his lips curling devilishly. “My reputation of power precedes me, even within my own family. I am flattered.”

  Taverous shook his head, “I prayed, for Rykin’s sake, that it was something other than you. He sacrificed his life to finish you!”

  “Tsk…tsk…” Balar waved his finger in Taverous’ face, “I don’t want you talking about our late brother’s failure like that.”

  “But you pushed him to do it!” Taverous blurted out, shoving his brother way, but his hands reached through Balar, as he floated to the side.

  “You can’t harm me. I’m only a guest in your mind.”

  Taverous frowned, rubbing deeply into the sides of his skull. “How is this even possible?”

  Balar laughed. “I actually have no idea. It was as if one moment, my body was being torn apart from Rykin final assault, then the next, I was hovering over this damn island void of any physical form.”

  “But you possess one now?”

  “Literally.” Balar scoffed. “Killed the fool to get it. My power and lifeforce were waning without an anchor.”

  “So, where does this leave us? Are you going to hide inside Hillsford forever? Afraid to show your true self, face to face?” Taverous asked.

  “You call this hiding?” Balar waved his hands in the air. “I wanted to show you who you were dealing with. The only man in the history of Ethindriil to conquer the constraints of death! I wanted to say hello to my long, lost brother, before saying farewell for good. You bore me now, brother.”

  Balar stepped away, and with each step, faded out into the night. Suddenly Taverous screamed out and dropped to his knees, gripping the sides of his skull.

  The illusion that Balar created slipped away, and he found himself surrounded by his worried-looking Tearanei. Overtaken by pain, he fell backward onto the dirt. Before drifting unconscious, he mouthed a string of words to his companions. “He is back.”

  Chapter 31: The Gates of Talur

  Rurik pulled his coat tighter around him. When the sun went down around the southern tip of the island, where Talur sat, the unbearable heat turned to cold winds, sweeping off the nearby ocean.

  It was five hours past sundown and everyone was sleeping away in the back of the wagon while Rurik slowly guided the horse toward the growing lights of Talur. Since the unexpected assault in Dartholme and, the coinciding run for their lives, things had calmed. Now well within the province of Talur, their journey was almost at an end.

  Their new traveling companion, Elop, had taken a nasty wound to the shoulder, but Amira had tended to it daily, and he was back to normal health, mostly. Since feeling better, Elop, who had been a cook at the Inn for so many years, h
ad taken to helping Gleb prepare the daily meals. He seemed to like having a job in the little ragtag team.

  Rurik started to get sleepy himself but didn’t want to stop with the city so close. So, he pushed on and within an hour, he was driving through the wooden palisades that marked the outer city. The home of all the Harmites, since they were not allowed to live within the city proper, unless as slaves. The outer city also housed less-privileged Talurians and a good portion of the military, due to lack of space in the inner city.

  Even at such a late hour, there were people and carts lining the main road, which stretched all the way to the heavily guarded inner gate. Peddlers showed their wares, and various smells came from the food vendors, wrapping up grilled meats and fresh potato and vegetable pies to go. Rurik heard movement from inside the wagon. The sounds of the city must have woken someone.

  Klaric climbed through the latch door and sat next to Rurik, slowly coming fully awake, running his fingers through his matted hair. The two men scanned the never-sleeping city and silently relished being home for the first time in many months. Both were born and raised in the capital, and since their families were not well off, or part of an inner family, they grew up on these very streets—the slums of the Empire.

  They moved past the outer city’s main court and saw the cages set up for the public execution of mix-race violators, all too many were occupied.

  Klaric shook his head. “That’s certainly something I don’t miss seeing, or worse, hearing from my house.”

  Rurik kept his eyes on the road. “We may have some trouble.”

  Klaric turned his gaze forward again. “Damn. A blockade. Doesn’t look like they are letting anyone into the inner city.”

  Rurik positioned the wagon into the line that had formed. “Here take the reins. I’m going to check ahead.” He pulled out the papers that Saris had given them. “Be right back.”

  Rurik leapt down from his seat and started jogging through the line. The blockade was heavily guarded, not only by many soldiers but large crossbow artillery. This was a standard wartime blockade. The high-speed messengers that General Saris had sent ahead of them must have reached the Emperor. Rurik noticed a Lieutenant, who was standing at the head of the blockade, turning each person away, causing much protest.

  Rurik pushed his way to the front of the line, which brought, even more, objections.

  “You may not enter the city,” the Lieutenant said, bluntly, to the man standing in front of him.

  With the first sign of outrage from the citizen, the officer motioned for him to be taken away by the guards. He shouted and kicked his feet as the soldiers dragged him away.

  Rurik stepped forward. “My name is Rurik Kaster, Second Corporal of the thirty-eighth company of the Talurian army. I am on a mission from General Saris. I need to enter these gates. My wagon is—”

  The man put his hand up to silence him, “No need to keep talking. Nobody is permitted within these walls after sunset. And, you will never get inside during daytime, without special papers.”

  Rurik pulled the letter that Saris had sent along with him, in the case of resistance, and to grant the group entrance and retreat in his private estate.

  The Lieutenant laughed at him. “Even with papers, I will not permit you tonight. Only in the morning may you gain entrance, when the Magistrate is present. And then, he will decide if that piece of paper you hold is worth anything.”

  Rurik took a step closer to the man, putting himself right in the officer’s face. “We need to enter the city tonight,” Rurik said in a harsh whisper.

  The officer made a quick glance toward his soldiers, and they quickly circled around Rurik. But, Rurik didn’t want to push it past a point that would endanger the group, so he put his hands up in surrender and walked back to the wagon.

  “Well?” Klaric asked, handing him back the reins.

  “Not getting through.”

  “What? Why?”

  “The old apartment is still in my name. We will stay there tonight.”

  Rurik maneuvered the wagon out of line and down a side street toward the apartment his brother, Aamin, and himself shared before they were called out to war.

  The building was located in a calmer area of the slums, away from the hustle and bustle of the street vendors and beggars. Rurik pulled the wagon into the stable around back.

  “Go wake the others. I’m going on up. Remember, apartment nine.” Rurik took to the stairs that ran back and forth along the side of the structure, stopping at the third floor.

  He reached the door and froze.

  When they left for the front line, Rurik thought it would be at least two years before he would be standing in front of this door again. He reached into the neck opening of his shirt and pulled out the chain necklace that contained the family pendants of his entire family, along with a single bronzed key. He slipped the key off the end of the chain and pressed it into the lock, hearing the mechanism click as he twisted. The door creaked open, and brooding emotion swept over him, coming back to the house without his brother.

  He stepped in.

  The moon, glimmering through the doorway, was all that lit the room. The tightly closed curtains blocked any light from trickling through the windows. Knowing where everything was from memory, Rurik navigated the dark living room with ease. He reached a shelf along the back wall that housed a mixture of candles. As he started to hear footsteps coming from the stairway, the front room had been sufficiently lit. He looked around at all the furniture, each piece covered with heavy blankets, staged for the brothers to be away for a long time.

  “This will do fine,” Amira said. She dropped her bag as she entered the house, resting the baby on her hip.

  Rurik yanked off the cover to one of the chairs and offered her the seat. She gladly took it.

  “You really were not planning on being back here very soon,” she said, looking around the room.

  “No, the war was supposed to go on for a good couple of years, with all of the traveling and opposing tribes.” Rurik knelt down to start a fire in the hearth. “It doesn’t look like that will happen anymore. The battle at Hillsford will probably be the end of it.”

  Rurik backed away from the fireplace, nodding in satisfaction. The men reached the front door with the rest of the necessary bags for the night’s stay. They didn’t need many supplies in the apartment, but the men insisted that if items were left in the wagon, they would get stolen.

  After everyone had sat for a moment, enjoying the warmth of the fire and the cushioned furniture—each person mute from exhaustion—Rurik took them around the rest of the house. The apartment had the front room, in which they entered, with three bedrooms off that, and a shared central bathroom.

  One of the bedrooms was used as a library and sitting room, which Amira claimed, Galro and Klaric were going to sleep in Rurik’s master bedroom, Elop and Gleb chose to stay out in the living room, and Rurik wanted to stay in his brother’s room. The most people that house had seen for many years. When the men were settled in, Rurik went to check on Amira one last time.

  He gave a quick knock, announcing himself, and opened the door. Amira had her back to him, quickly pulling the rest of her nightgown around her. Rurik enjoyed a good view of her slender back and shoulders in the process. He surely didn’t mind the surprise.

  She turned around and gave him a surprisingly affectionate smile. “We need to stop running into each other like this. It really isn’t decent,” she said, holding her smile.

  “I am sorry. There hasn’t been a woman in the house, since my mother. I guess I’m only used to being around other men. I wanted to make sure you were fine in here, before tucking in for the night. Need any more blankets?

  “No, thank you. I think we are okay.” Her eyes scanned to where Archaos was fast asleep.

  “Very well. Goodnight,” Rurik said.

  “Goodnight.”

  Rurik kept his eyes on her while slowly closing the door. Not wanting to lose that i
mage. Damn it! Stop. She is spoken for by one of the most powerful men in the Empire.

  He walked the house one more time and checked the lock again, trying to shake her from his thoughts, then made his way to his brother’s room. As he twisted the handle of the door, he thought he heard a sound from inside the room. He pushed the door open, pulling a knife from his belt.

  Nobody was there.

  The sounds of an old house, he told himself. But, he noticed the window in the room didn’t have the curtains drawn. He knew they didn’t leave any window uncovered. He moved over to the window, and the moonlight practically spotlighted a footprint in the layer of dust atop the dresser that sat directly underneath.

  Rurik quickly opened the window and stuck his head out, looking for the intruder. There was nowhere for anyone to go, or hide. That bedroom faced the alley, so there was no walkway or ledge, and the apartment sat three stories up.

  Rurik pulled himself back inside and bolted the window shut. He wasn’t going to sleep very heavy tonight.

  * * *

  Krul hung by his fingertips. Using all his strength to stay gripped to the narrow ledge that ran along the roof of the apartment building. Sweat beading on his forehead. A narrow outcropping above the bedroom’s window, mixed with the darkness of the night and his signature black outfit, kept Rurik from seeing him.

  Krul’s face was set in a silent grimace, holding on for his life, waiting for the soldier to pull his head back inside. Any sound would have given him away. Rurik stopped the search, and finally, Krul could breathe.

  Now feeling like he could move around a little, without drawing attention, he released one of his hands and frantically threw his arm over the edge of the roof, almost causing him to fall to the ground. With one arm holding onto the roof, he repeated the maneuver with his other arm and pulled himself to the roof. He quietly crawled along the building, knowing right below him, Rurik lay awake in his bed, on high alert.

  Soon Krul was far enough away, that he stood to his feet and started running across the rooftops of the nearby buildings, making his way back to his horse. Now he knew for sure, where they were staying. He would be back before dawn. “I’m not going to wait for that boy’s signal anymore,” he said to himself in determination. “Once they reach Saris’ estate, it will be impossible to reach the woman and baby.”