Fate of an Empire (Talurian Empire Trilogy Book 1)

by Pasquariello, Jonathan

  “That is not important.”

  Saris slammed his hand on the bed. “I decide what is important!”

  “If you go along with what I suggest, there will be no resistance on my part with the wedding. I will become your wife and mother to your two sons.”

  “You have really complicated things.” Saris tapped his fingers to his forehead.

  “And the real finishing blow is that Lord Hyle can’t wait for you to come straighten this out, so he can stop worrying about the wellbeing of his grandsons.”

  Saris dropped his head. “And the checkmate. You really have woven yourself into this whole façade quite ingeniously. You have protection from a House Lord, falsified blackmail against your husband, that I can’t contradict, and a sweet, little Harmite fling on the side.” He looked deep into her eyes. “If I do this—Rurik will be gone. Do you understand? He will disappear from the province and not return. For if he does, I’ll not be made the fool. He’ll pay for his disloyalty tenfold!”

  A knock on the door came. “Sir? Everything alright in there?”

  Amira looked at the General. “Agreed.”

  “Yes, everything is fine!” He shouted back and then lowered his voice back to a whisper. “Then I guess we need to break Rurik out of jail before they get a case against me. Fetch me a piece of paper and my signet ring, from the desk over there.”

  She did as he asked and mentioned Klaric’s presence in the jail; he too would need to be released to wipe clean the allegations.

  He wrote a quick letter and sealed it. “Give this to the doorman at Furlow’s. It is a small, hole-in-the-wall restaurant down in the lower city. He will take care of everything.”

  Amira took the note. “Thank you.”

  As she turned to leave, Saris reached out and grabbed her hand. “You know, I now expect you to honor your vows of our marriage, and all that entails after the ceremony. Don’t make me change my mind about our arrangement.”

  Amira didn’t respond. She pulled her hand free and made for the window. Gleb waited on the roof and helped pull her up.

  “We can go now.”

  He nodded, and they both disappeared into the night.

  Chapter 49: Rescue

  “Psst…” Klaric threw a pebble through the cell bars. “Hey, get up.”

  Rurik rubbed his forehead. “What? Why are you waking me?”

  “Shh. Quiet.” Klaric pointed to the door. “Listen.”

  Rurik could hear a low sawing sound. “What do you think it is?” He looked to the far window, down near the end of the hall. “It is still dark outside. Have you heard the guards?”

  Klaric shook his head, no.

  The noise got louder, till a crashing sound came from the main room of the jail.

  “Hey! What the hell do you think you are doing?” One of the guards shouted from the room.

  A struggle broke out. Blades rang off of each other, groans came shortly after, and finally the door to the cells burst inward.

  Rurik and Klaric got to their feet. Rurik trembled at the effort. He had been beaten every day since his arrival. The guards seemed to have a special fondness for his pain.

  Three men came running into the room. All covered in black, holding two daggers each.

  “Back away from the doors.” One of them ordered.

  The other two positioned themselves in front of the cells. Each pulled a sleek metal pipe from their belts, along with a leather pouch. They fed the pipe into the opening of the locks and poured a green powdery substance down through them. The locks started to smoke and a sizzling sound could be heard. After half a minute, the lock popped open and fell to the ground.

  Rurik stared at the open door. His freedom, but at what price was he paying for it? Who were these men?

  “Well? Come on!”

  Rurik took a glance at his friend.

  “I say we go,” Klaric said.

  Rurik nodded and moved to his rescuers. “Can you do something about these?” He nodded to the iron bracings around his wrists.

  “No time. Later.”

  “Alright. You have the lead. We’ll be right behind.” Rurik motioned to the door.

  The man smiled. “He will take the lead,” he said, pointing to his companion, “Then you two and I’ll follow with him. Can’t have you getting lost can we?” He pulled on Rurik’s chains. “We don’t have time to waste.”

  They made it out to the street before any sound of reinforcement could be heard. The man in front turned into the alleys and snaked through the underbelly of the lower city with ease. Rurik was completely turned around by the time they stopped for a moment’s rest. He decided that if he were there alone, he would not know how to get back to the proper part of the city.

  This was the black district.

  Thieves, assassins, and contraband merchants inhabited these parts. The regular citizen only came here if looking for trouble. The Emperor seemed to not care about cleaning up the little rat’s nest of Talur—too much trouble and, at least for now, was contained to that area.

  “A small bit further. We are getting you out of the city.”

  They rounded one last corner and found themselves standing in front of the outer stone wall of Talur. One of the men walked into a door to their left. A wheel turned from inside the building and, as it did, one of the largest squares of stone inside the wall started to pull back, revealing a pathway.

  “Through there. Our job is done.” He finished his sentence and turned back down the street.

  Klaric took the lead since he was in better condition than Rurik. They stumbled in the dark. Debris was scattered on the floor. The passageway had been speedily made, and little effort had been done to clean it after construction.

  “Moonlight! There.” Rurik pointed to their left. A faint light showed at the end of the hall.

  They emerged from the passageway, surrounded by trees and bushes.

  Rurik crumpled to the ground. “I need to rest a moment.”

  Klaric sat next to him. “Quite alright.”

  The stone door they came through started to creak and slowly moved shut.

  “No going back now.” Klaric laughed. “We are fugitives!”

  “You find that amusing?” Rurik asked, testing his newly acquired bruises from the escape.

  “Hello.” A voice came from their left.

  Klaric jumped to his feet. “Who is there?”

  A fair-skinned man with shoulder length, blonde hair, walked out from the shadow of a tree. “My name is Aliem.”

  “You look Merkadian,” Rurik said, watching him from his seat.

  “Right, I am.”

  “What are you doing here?” Klaric gave him a suspicious look.

  “I left Merkadia after killing someone.”

  “I’m Sorry?” Klaric chuckled, “That doesn’t answer the question, though.”

  “Those men were hired to help you escape—to help make things look a certain way. I am here now to take on the second part of the commission.”

  “Are we supposed to go with you?” Rurik asked.

  Aliem laughed softly. “No. No. I’ll be going from here alone. I’m an assassin and I was hired to kill you.”

  Klaric stepped back. “Such candidness?”

  “What can I say? I like the look on people’s faces. They don’t really expect it.” Aliem pulled a sword from his belt. “This blade has tasted the blood of many nations.”

  “Are you some kind of joke?” Klaric said. “Who the hell would hire you?”

  “Well, since this is your last night, I will indulge. This is a much-honored contract for me. I was told General Saris himself placed the bounty on your heads—well his exactly.” Aliem pointed to Rurik.

  “It was going to happen sooner or later.” Rurik managed to his get to feet. “I won’t go easily.”

  “Mmm, I don’t think you are going to put up much of a fight.”

  “But, I will!” Klaric jumped at the assassin.

  Aliem leapt to his side,
slicing Klaric’s leg as he flew past.

  Klaric landed with a thud. Blood instantly soaked his leggings.

  “No!” Rurik wobbled forward.

  Aliem casually dodged the feeble attempt, sticking the point of his sword deep into Rurik’s shoulder.

  He yelled out in pain.

  Aliem wrapped his hand over Rurik’s mouth. “We can’t have any of that. Someone might hear you.” He held his sword to Rurik’s throat. “Time to say goodnight.”

  An arrow sped through the air, carrying such force, that when it landed on target, Aliem spun backward. He climbed back to his feet, arrow hanging from his arm.

  “Who dares—” Another arrow flew from the opposite direction, stabbing through Aliem’s neck, cutting his threat short.

  Rurik was losing blood, fast. His state was dire before the sword wound, now his chances were slipping even lower. His eyes started to haze over.

  Ten feet away, Klaric twisted on the ground, grabbing at his own injury, while trying to keep his friend’s focus. “Don’t worry. You’ll be okay.” Klaric said. “Stay with me!”

  Two men moved from the bushes, carrying bows. A woman followed. Klaric saw what had happened and submitted to their assistance. Rurik couldn’t hear what was being said. He felt his consciousness slipping away. One of the men came over, kneeling down next to him.

  “You will be okay.”

  Rurik looked at the faces. He knew the man, but couldn’t place it. Wait. It was Nomik—Aamin’s father-in-law. The other man and woman attending to Klaric must be Jaeyl and Nirah.

  “Nomik…” Was all that Rurik could muster.

  “Yes, my boy. It’s me. Sleep. Don’t fight it. You are safe—you’re with family.” And with those words, Rurik let the world slip away.

  Chapter 50: The Return

  Warrin gently knocked on Emperor Tymedious’ door.

  The aging Harmite was the Emperor’s head attendant and had been serving as such, since the beginning of Tymedious’ father’s reign, Emperor Kidaris. He was the first Harmite to ever hold such a high office.

  “What?” Tymedious shouted from inside.

  He took that as an invitation and pushed inward. The first room of the suite was a sitting area, which Tymedious would often hold informal meetings with noblemen, or use as a way to chat up his latest fancy before leading into the bedroom. As a matter of fact, Warrin noticed the young Emperor entertaining a pair of women during last night’s banquet.

  He gathered a pile of discarded clothing.

  “Warrin, can you ready two guest rooms?”

  Warrin smiled to himself. “Already done, Sir,” He yelled down the hallway to the bedroom.

  Shortly after, two ladies wrapped in linens sheepishly walked his way. “There are two clerks outside the door waiting to escort you to your rooms.” He bowed.

  “Thank you,” they both whispered.

  “My pleasure.”

  Warrin moved down the hallway and rounded the corner to the Emperor’s bedchamber. A naked Tymedious stood in front of his wardrobe, staring at his vast collection of clothing.

  “What would I do without you? Thank you for dealing with the girls.” He clapped his hands together. “Now, what to wear?”

  “Well, sir,” Warrin started, “There is a reason for my early morning call. Your General has returned.”

  Tymedious turned around. “Oh has he,” He said with a crooked grin.

  “Sir, maybe you should put something on while we talk.” Warrin fetched a robe from a nearby chair.

  “Is he here in the palace?” Tymedious slipped his arms through the offered garment.

  “No. He is still down in the lower city. Apparently, he’s awaiting a jovial return. His messenger arrived about an hour ago. I’ve already started with the arrangements. I took the liberty of moving ahead.”

  “Yes, that’s fine. I always enjoy an excuse to feast and drink, and possibly fill a few more of our lovely guest rooms.”

  Warrin smiled. “You do certainly like to offer your hospitality.”

  “Well then. You find something in this mess.” The Emperor waved his hand toward this clothing. “And I will go catch a quick bath.”

  Warrin bowed. “I had anticipated that and took the liberty of having—”

  Tymedious placed his hand on the older man’s shoulder. “Of course, you did.”

  * * *

  “Is he supposed to be here soon?” Amira asked.

  As she said the words, a fanfare of trumpets sounded. Throngs of people lined the long, twisting road that led from the lower city up through the five Houses, ending at the front steps of the palace. It had been announced that General Saris had returned from battle, and with him, brought victory to Taluria.

  “I’m guessing he will be arriving very shortly,” Gleb said, mocking the grandiose show.

  “No. Not quite yet,” Lord Hyle said. They all sat together in the Lords’ grandstand. A highly exclusive area reserved for the House Lords and honored guests. “That was announcing the Emperor’s arrival.”

  Amira strained her neck to see over the assembled crowd. Many had taken to their feet at the sound. A processional of white came out through the gates of the palace—the heart of the city—warriors clad in sparkling armor, mystics and priests waving powders and essences into the air, and children of High Blood littered the pathway with petals of white roses.

  “Quite the attempt at making one’s self out to be of pure and noble bearing.” Horcam huffed under his breath.

  “You should watch the words you say in such a crowd,” Hyle chastised.

  Finally, Tymedious appeared. “Shh. The Emperor is here.” Amira quieted them both. There was some excitement within her, for she had never seen the man in person.

  He rode a massive white steed. And, unlike his mounted guards, he wore no armor, instead a light tunic and riding pants—very casual, but of exceptional craftsmanship and quality. He was lighter skinned than the majority of Talurians, and his hair was naturally straight, also unlike the masses. It was pulled back in a ponytail, showing off his handsome features. The Emperor’s conquests with women didn’t stem from his title alone.

  “He is quite attractive.”

  “You share the thought of many women your age.” Hyle laughed.

  Emperor Tymedious made it to his own, personal viewing area, surrounded by a private detail of imperial guards. Amira noticed a pair of young ladies being escorted by an elderly slave to the same area.

  “Constantly surrounded,” Horcam leaned down and said to Amira.

  A second sounding of trumpets rang through the center city.

  “This will be General Saris,” Hyle said.

  People at the beginning of the street started to cheer. Flowers and rice were thrown into the air. As he came closer, drummers could be heard. Boom. Boom. Boom…Boom. Boom. Boom.

  After a few minutes, Saris turned the corner.

  “There he is.” Gleb directed Amira’s gaze.

  Saris trotted along on a black stallion. Thandril rode off to his side, half a stride back, to show submission. The General looked like he had aged ten years since they had left Hillsford. Amira saw him in the inn, but it was dark, and the light was kind. He waved to the assembled masses and spun his sword in the air. Thandril remained emotionless, holding a stoic, neutral expression on his face.

  What had happened out there?

  “He looks tired,” Hyle noted.

  Amira turned to the Lord. “He does.”

  Saris passed right in front of them. He noticed them in the stands and blew a kiss to Amira. Hyle saw and patted her shoulder, and at that, Saris’ eyes betrayed his anger and he squinted at Amira. She had developed strong allies. He had been beaten. Hyle waved at the General and, with an actor’s finesse, Saris changed his expression and bowed to the House Lord.

  “It will be interesting having him back in the city,” said Hyle.

  “Sir!” A man ran up to Lord Hyle, holding a piece of parchment. “You need to rea
d this.”

  Hyle scanned the note. “Oh, my…”

  “What?” Amira asked.

  “Your friends…the ones in jail—they have escaped. It seems they were broken out by a group of mercenaries from the black district.”

  Amira controlled her excitement. Saris’ men must have succeeded. Rurik would probably contact her in a few days once the situation calmed down. “What does this mean for everything?” She put her hand to her mouth.

  “Well, I fear for your friends. Mercenaries are not the kind of people you trust with your life, but, for our legal problems, if Gretio doesn’t have Rurik to bring forth as evidence of Saris’ involvement with the Harmite rebellion, then he has no case.” Hyle returned the letter to his messenger and waved him off. “This is wonderful news for the boys.”

  Amira held onto his arm. “That is the most important thing.” That was the last thing she said, but her thoughts went wild over Rurik. Where was he? Did they get safely out of the city? When would she see him next?

  Chapter 51: Politics

  Saris sipped on a glass of liquor, something the Emperor sent over from his personal collection—a caramel colored liquid that burned all the way down. He sat in an overstuffed chair, enjoying the outdoor sitting area of his suite. Tymedious ordered him to wait in the palace till he sent word.

  The parade ended in front of the Emperor’s viewing pavilion, but few words were spoken. Tymedious declared victory and honored his champion, but Saris knew the real drama over his return was about to start.

  Thandril waited by the door. Saris wanted quiet, and his druid knew when to stay away.

  A warning knock landed on the door, and a string of attendants entered without hesitation.

  “We are here to get you ready for the council.” The lead attendant announced.

  “What?” Saris got to his feet. The alcohol had gotten to him a little more than he expected. “I was under the impression that there would be more time.”