Fate of an Empire (Talurian Empire Trilogy Book 1)

by Pasquariello, Jonathan

  Thandril stood to his feet and faced the crowd. “Talurians, get to work on setting up for nightfall, separate into groups and get this place in order.” He looked to Arteus. “Make sure everyone pulls their weight.” The captain nodded and moved from the walkway. “And, to the rest of you. We are done here. Go to your lands. Kiss your wives and children. Look to your leaders, if they still live. Go, and be mournful of this day.”

  He turned away from them. “Now, for my Master…”

  Chapter 47: A New Role

  Shaymesh had done as ordered and carried the Prince far into the foothills.

  His pace proved to be more than a match for the shadow. Fayeth and Dageros were already in the field when he arrived, both carrying their own emotional burdens. He scavenged some nearby equipment and put together a makeshift tent for Kaillum. Then, he told Fayeth to go around and intercept any Merkadian forces that were leaving the area and point them in their direction. She did as told, and soon, strung out groups of soldiers filtered into the campsite.

  Dageros held his father’s sword close to his chest. Once he found his brother’s unconscious body, he laid it next to him and stayed at his side. Shaymesh returned to the tent and relieved Dageros, telling him to go get some sleep. The moon had been out for four hours now.

  Between the blow to Kaillum’s head and pure exhaustion from the battle, he didn’t wake for two days. The morning he did, there was hell to pay for anyone who tried to communicate with him.

  He heard of his father’s death and had hidden away in his tent for another three days.

  * * *

  Light crept in through the seams of the tent. Kaillum was crouched in the corner, running his hand down the blade of his father. He looked over at his battle-soiled armor. Blood still splattered its crest. He was a soldier, not a leader. There was his proof.

  “This is the third day, my Lord.”

  Shaymesh stood guard outside his tent, day and night.

  “Does my Lord wish for some food?”

  Every day he asked and every day Kaillum assaulted him with words of violence.

  If he had taken father away, our King would still be here. It was Shaymesh’s fault! No, that’s not right. He did what his King wanted and succeeded in following his orders. This day would be different.

  He cracked his neck and stood to his feet. “Yes, your Lord wishes for food.”

  “Right away,” Shaymesh said, in a nonchalant way—as if he hadn’t been abused for the last two days.

  Kaillum reached for a mirror. He stared at his reflection. His features flickered and softened. He put on the face of his father.

  How could you leave me right now?

  He changed his face back. “Damn it!” He threw the mirror to the ground.

  “Brother?”

  “Fayeth?”

  “Yes, brother, it’s me.”

  Fayeth pulled back the door flap and ducked into the tent. “I’ve been very worried about you. I saw Shaymesh getting you food. That’s good.” She smiled. “I like that you are getting your hunger back.”

  Kaillum tried to form a smile.

  “He knew it was not our time. He wanted us to continue on,” Fayeth whispered.

  Kaillum’s half smile faded. “Get out.”

  “But, Kaillum—”

  “No!” He shouted, rising to his feet. “It was not his time either! Get out!”

  She jumped at the outburst and turned away so quickly that she fell over her own feet. Sobs started to grow and tears streaked her face.

  Kaillum softened and rushed to her side. “I’m sorry.”

  “We miss him too you know!” She hissed at him.

  “Hey! What’s going on?” Dageros burst through the entranceway, followed by Shaymesh, holding a platter of dried meats and bread. “Don’t yell at her!

  Dag saw his sister crying. “Why can’t you grow up?” He shoved Kaillum. “Do you think everything is about you? Are you afraid to rule? Are you afraid to not live up to our father? Don’t worry. You won’t!” He pushed past the druid and thrashed out through the tent door.

  Fayeth glared at him and followed suit. Kaillum was once again alone with Shaymesh.

  “They are in pain.”

  Kaillum kicked at the dirt. “They don’t have to put aside their pain and lead a Kingdom!”

  “It’s true. They don’t. But, if I may,” Shaymesh said, “You’re father didn’t make his decision lightly. He was a man of Kingdom above all. If he knew that you couldn’t take the emotional burden of the aftermath of his choice, then he would not have made it.” He set the plate next to Kaillum. “If he thought that you were not the right choice to lead, he would have pushed past his feelings and sacrificed you for his survival. He always put his people before himself. He knew you could do this. And, he knew you could do this, right now.”

  Kaillum sat quietly, taking in the man’s words. After a while, he reached for the food and pulled a chunk of bread from the loaf. “Maybe…”

  “Right now, outside that door, there is a wounded, demoralized, and leaderless army awaiting some word of hope—some showing of restore among their people.”

  Kaillum nodded. “Yes.” He straightened his posture. “You are right. My father would want it.”

  Shaymesh grabbed the young man’s shoulder. “I’ll be right there with you.”

  Kaillum put his food down, attached his father’s sheath to his side, and moved to exit his tent. The sun was still low, the air was brisk, and the men’s fires smoked in their pits. The moment he appeared, all sound stopped. Every face looked to him.

  “I will make this quick,” Kaillum started, “You deserve a strong leader. You deserve a man who does not shy away from problems—who does not put his well being before yours. I struggled to learn that lesson. I will not slip again. We will heal these wounds, which we have so grievously been had. I swear on my father’s throne, I will be a King of his standard—a King of his likeness. Today, we rest. Tomorrow, we prepare. And, the next, we go home. This war is over.

  “There has been no victor but darkness. What is left of the tribes of Kilgar, Targa, and Chargon have scurried to their lands. We will do the same, but not with our tails between our legs—we march with an air of pride. We are a people of might. We are a people of honor. We will rebuild, and, in time, these wounds will turn to scars, to remind us of what we will have overcome.”

  Dageros and Fayeth moved from the crowd and took their places at his side. He smiled to both and took their hands.

  “I will also need a champion—a warrior leader. We mourn the death of General Vyker. He was a great leader and an irreplaceable confidant to my father. But, we must also move on.” Kaillum motioned for Shaymesh. The druid took his place in front of him and knelt down on one knee. “Shaymesh, you have proven yourself time and time again, to my father, and to myself. With my utmost confidence, I name you General of Merkadia. You may rise.”

  Shaymesh stood to his feet, and a chorus of cheers spread through the crowd. Dageros and Fayeth congratulated their friend.

  “Thank you. Thank you,” Shaymesh hushed the crowd. “I humbly accept this great honor, but the real ascension today is not for me. We must look to Kaillum, eldest son of Melidarius—heir to the throne. Our new King!” Shaymesh shouted the last part and bowed low to the ground.

  Like a ripple through the crowd, one by one bowed before Kaillum.

  “All hail, King Kaillum,” Dageros started to chant.

  Soon the hillside echoed with those words, spoken by the tongues of every Merkadian. Kaillum looked over his people—his people. This was his father’s last, and greatest, gift.

  Chapter 48: Victory

  Thandril gently shut the door behind him. The room was dim, lit by a single candle that burned low from lack of attention. The stillness was void of the destruction outside. A lone figure lay asleep against the back wall.

  “You slept through it all,” Thandril said to himself, looking down at the cot.

  He wave
d his hand over Saris’ body, and his sleeping enchantment started to deteriorate. Then, he took a seat and waited. Another candle had burned before the General woke.

  Saris groaned. He rubbed his hands over his face. “Hello? Is there someone here? What the hell is going on?”

  “Quiet. You are weak.”

  “Thandril?”

  Thandril leaned forward into the light of the candle.

  “Ah! My friend!” Saris attempted to raise himself onto his elbows but failed.

  “I told you.”

  “Right, you did,” Saris chuckled, “What has happened?”

  “You were being deceived.”

  Thandril explained the sickness that had fallen upon the Talurians, and how it had been Balar’s doing. He told of the battle between Balar and Taverous, the alliance formed with the Merkadians, and the final attack that destroyed the majority of both sides, including King Melidarius.

  “That’s about it.”

  Saris nodded. “So, we are victorious!”

  Thandril cocked his head. “I…I guess, but at a heartbreaking cost.”

  “No matter the cost.” Saris seemed to be filled with energy and had managed to sit up. “No matter. We have sent the Merkadians fleeing and the other tribes are in disarray. Emperor Tymedious will be pleased. We’ll have the run of the island in no time.”

  “I need to shave.” Saris looked at his reflection in a nearby mirror. “Go find me my uniform. I need to speak to my men. Then, we will be off to Talur! The Emperor will want to honor us in our victory!”

  * * *

  They set out mid-morning the following day and now had been on the road for close to a week. Saris recovered from his hibernation and was anxious to be home. He ordered Captain Arteus to stay behind and get the city back in order.

  Their convoy consisted of a single wagon carrying Saris and Thandril, along with a new, six-man group of handpicked bodyguards on horseback. The General didn’t want Harmite slaves with them. He was convinced they would slow him down.

  “Sir, we are approaching Dartholme,” said one of the guards, acting as a driver for their wagon.

  “Hmmm…let’s stay there for the night. If I’m not mistaken, there is a very,” Saris grinned, “How do you say it? Hospitable inn that I used to frequent as a cadet.”

  Thandril didn’t respond.

  “Agreed!” Saris clapped his hand on his knee. “We will stay there!” He stuck his head out the window. “You did hear, correct?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Good. Now hurry!”

  In no time, they pulled up in front of the Pink Lady Inn and exited their wagon.

  “You,” Saris pointed at one of his guards. “Go reserve a room for us tonight. Wait! Two rooms. I am going to need privacy.”

  The soldier nodded and ran inside ahead of them.

  Saris tried to put his arm around Thandril’s massive frame, with no success. “Come on. Let’s get some refreshment and maybe some food and drink while we’re at it!” He laughed all the way inside.

  * * *

  Thandril kept an eye on everything in the room while his master took in some of the pre-hospitality. Two very attentive and very curvaceous, young ladies were fawning over the graying General. They fed him fruit, and kept whispering, no doubt, very improper advances in his ear.

  The dining room was mostly empty, save for a group of seniors from the military school playing a game of marbles and a cuddly couple sitting far back in the corner of the room. Saris’ bodyguards had taken position around the common area and one to each of the bedrooms. He wanted a carefree night of enjoyment.

  The front door swung open, and a draft blew in, accompanied by a lone stranger—a robed and hooded figure. A female by their movement, Thandril thought. She took a seat a few tables over from them and waved off the waitress without ordering anything.

  This could be trouble. Thandril was used to watching out for his Master. He had killed often enough, dispatching quarterly assassination attempts. The man would not win a popularity contest, even if the world’s lives depended on it.

  Things continued on for nearly two more hours.

  A few people came and went, but the stranger stayed in place—nothing ordered and no words spoken. Finally, the dining area was closing for the night, so the seniors finished one last game and the couple that stayed in the shadows must have agreed on a price for the night, finally retiring to the man’s room.

  Saris flashed Thandril a smile and rose to his feet, each arm around a different woman. “Don’t wait up.”

  Thandril ignored him, watching the stranger, waiting for a reaction to his departure. Saris made for the stairs and clumsily ascended to the second floor with a great deal of support from his groupies.

  The stranger stood to their feet, which Thandril swiftly matched, but, instead of moving for Saris, they headed straight to the door. There was something going on, and Thandril couldn’t figure out what.

  He looked back at the balcony of the second floor and saw Saris fumbling for his room key. “Just a moment, ladies.”

  The guard posted at that room helped Saris and then moved out of the way for the party of three to enter. Once the door was closed, he stood directly in front of it. A moment later a second soldier came to stand guard alongside him. Nobody was getting in there easily, Thandril thought. He decided to go check the perimeter of the building, before buckling down for the night.

  Outside, he looked for footprints that would match the mysterious stranger, but the ground was too well traveled for that. Whoever the person was, they had probably seen the futility of their mission. He walked the grounds, scanning every direction. At the back of the inn, Saris’ window was visible. The curtains were drawn, but candlelight from inside gave a preview of what the General’s night would be filled with.

  Thandril abandoned his suspicions and went back to the dining area. He would watch for anyone who might enter during the night.

  * * *

  The woman watched from the roof, as Thandril walked back around to the front of the inn. She eyed Saris’ window and measured the length of her rope. A man was also with her, robbed and hooded as she. They waited for two hours, till the noise died down below, and the last of the street ruffians quieted. All was silent. All were asleep.

  She motioned to the man, and he tested the rope before handing it to her.

  “Should be good.”

  She nodded and lowered herself over the side of the roof.

  * * *

  “Don’t make a sound.” A cool whisper tickled at Saris’ ear. He felt the cold edge off steel pressed to his throat.

  “Alright. I’m listening. For you must want something, or I would be dead already.” Saris said.

  The two women wiggled in their sleep next to him.

  “Is this anyway for an engaged man to be acting?”

  “What?” Saris popped his shoulder forward, moving the blade from his throat. He pulled at his assailant’s wrist and brought them down onto the bed.

  “Mmm…are we ready to go again?” One of the girls said, groggily.

  “Quiet, whore. Go back to sleep.”

  “Whatever,” She hissed and turned the other way.

  Saris pried the blade from his attacker, and now their positions were reversed. “Who are you?”

  “Why, I’m your lovely fiancé.” Amira pulled her hood back.

  “You!” Saris dropped the dagger. “Why are you here?”

  “Surprised are you?” She smiled. “Doesn’t look like you were worried about our coming vows.”

  “Hey, come here.” Saris let go of her wrist. “They mean nothing to me. I was only having some fun. I think they may have drugged me. This could be an elaborate ruse to steal my possessions. Thank you, darling, for bringing this to light.”

  “Oh shut up!” Amira said in a harsh whisper. “I don’t care what the hell you do, as long as you listen to me and do exactly as I say.”

  “What did you have in mind?” Saris wi
nked at her.

  “Wow. You’re hideous.”

  “Well, that is not nice at all.”

  “Shut your mouth and listen.” Amira steadied her gaze on him. “There has been some complications back in Talur—things involving your son.”

  Saris lost all playfulness in his face. “I will draw that blade back off the ground in a second if…”

  “No, he is alright. I wouldn’t let anything happen to him.”

  “Then what?”

  “There is another child. In a very public way, this child has been accused of being Harmite. And, in an equally public fashion, he was defended on the stance that he was also your son.”

  Saris’ eyes narrowed.

  “Since your wife had twins in Hillsford,” Amira added.

  Saris laughed, “I don’t know for whom, or why, you are going to such lengths to protect this child, but I will have no part of it.”

  “That’s what you may think, but, by certain circumstances, if you deny my story you will be publicly disgraced. You couldn’t even control your own fiancé, nor have the competence to realize a Harmite traitor in your own entourage.” Saris gritted his teeth at each word. “Not to mention, Drokel would have your office in no time.”

  “Drokel!” Saris snapped. “He is a part of this?”

  “I believe he orchestrated it. There were two different attempts on mine and Archaos’ lives, during our trip back. If you don’t back my story, he will have his goal. He will win—you will lose.”

  Saris was speechless. He didn’t know what to say to such venomous, yet logical words. He actually found her manipulative ways very attractive.

  “There is more.”

  “There always is.”

  “Rurik, the Corporal you sent with us, has been arrested.”

  “Oh, I am putting it together now. There is some truth to the Harmite traitor accusation, and Rurik is the bringer of it.” Saris searched her face. “How very interesting. And, you seem to have feelings for him.”