Fate of an Empire (Talurian Empire Trilogy Book 1)

by Pasquariello, Jonathan

  “You had the wrong impression.”

  * * *

  Saris walked down the hallway to the ornate door that marked the great hall of the Emperor. He had been included there many times, but none of his visits had carried the weight of his future.

  The door stretched from floor to ceiling. Gold inlays wove their way through the stained and polished wood. He rested his palm on the door and, with a deep breath, pushed the door open.

  The chamber was usually filled with sound of arguments, intrigue, and scandal. The governing leaders of the Empire used it as their own, personal watering-hole of information and gossip.

  Today was different.

  Saris’ boots echoed on the stone floor. His breath seemed to scream out across the silence of the room. Light trickled in from the door behind him. The windows were covered and only a few candles burned near a long table set up in the center of the floor.

  “Light.” A voice ordered from the darkness.

  A biting sound came from a single ceiling tile being drawn back. A narrow beam of light appeared and spotlighted the Emperor sitting in a high-backed chair ten feet in front of the table.

  Saris knew his place and took a bow.

  “Rise.”

  Saris faced Tymedious but scanned the room quickly. Few were there. He saw Lord Hyle, who caringly nodded to him. Next to him, stood Lord Drokel and some man he didn’t know. That was all who attended the meeting. The smallest assembly those walls had ever seen.

  Tymedious stood to his feet. “Today we settle things in a more informal setting. A more undignified manner.” His voice suddenly rose. “For that is what this is!” He motioned for the other men to sit at the table. All were to sit as equals. “General Saris, firstly, I welcome you home and congratulate you on your victory. Secondly, I shake my head at your casualty numbers. And, thirdly, I tell you honestly, if you do not make me an ally by time this meeting dissolves, you will not leave this room alive.”

  Saris noticed the slightest hint of a smirk on Drokel’s lips.

  The Emperor clasped his hands together. “So! Let’s get underway.” He gestured to the man that Saris had not recognized. “You have the floor—table, whatever.”

  The man cleared his throat. “General Saris, my name is Gretio, Captain of City Watch, and head of internal matters. Part of that is monitoring the activity of underground, Harmite efforts to incite rebellion among our citizens. It has come to my attention, and in turn, the Emperor’s, that there is some hard evidence pointing to you having a hand in the rebellion’s dealings. What do you have to say for yourself?”

  Saris blankly stared at the man, showing zero emotion. He was prepared for the accusations—nothing new.

  After a moment of silence, Gretio turned to Tymedious to see if he should continue. The Emperor nodded, irritated by the Captain.

  “General, these are serious accusations.”

  “I haven’t heard anything that was serious.” Saris cocked his head. “Imaginary storytelling is far from a serious thing, and that is all I have heard so far.”

  “Sir, we have a man in—” Gretio shifted his weight. “There is a man who was arrested because of his ties to the underground movement. He was under charge, by you, to lead your fiancé’s convoy. Either you knew about his involvement, and supported it, or you were incompetent with your most trusted relationships, which is the truth?”

  “Truth?” Saris asked. “Hmm…let’s see. You know…my memory is a little foggy at the moment. Why don’t you bring forth your suspect? We should ask him for the truth.”

  Gretio’s nose flared. He flicked a quick glance at Lord Drokel.

  “Why do you look to Drokel?” Saris pointed at the little man. “Never mind that! I would like to ask you a different question!” He stood to his feet. “Why have such outrageous accusations been made against my boys? I just lost my wife, and I will not stand to have any harm are stain inflicted on her children or their names.” He finished with a saddened look toward Lord Hyle, playing on the heart of the aged Lord.

  “Right!” Hyle stood to his feet. “This is the first sign of truth here! We are overlooking the fact of the children’s wellbeing.”

  “Really?” Drokel stood too. “You old fool! You are being played.”

  Tymedious shook his head. “Quiet! All of you sit down.”

  Everyone followed his order.

  “Gretio, is it true that you lost your suspect?” Tymedious asked.

  “But, Sir, we have information that puts—”

  “Answer the question!”

  “Yes. We no longer have Corporal Rurik in our custody.”

  Tymedious remained quiet for a moment.

  “Then what else do you have to put forth on this matter?”

  “We have obtained testimony that Saris had, in fact, only one son, born in the city of Hillsford.”

  “Is this testimony from some sort of spy or citizen, paid by—let me go out on a limb—a rival Lord to my position?” Saris asked.

  “That is irrelevant,” Tymedious said, “Even if the man were of complete, upright standing, I would not take one man’s word against the word of my General.”

  My General. Saris heard the words and knew that the tables had turned. “Emperor, I ask you, drop your unwarranted fears. This man clouds your mind with false accusations and slanderous speech. I achieved victory, fighting and leading in your exalted name. I would like to return to my home, kiss the faces of my boys, and make arrangements for the wedding. I hope you would be the first to accept my invitation as an honored guest at our head table.”

  “This is unacceptable.” Drokel slammed his fist on the table.

  Tymedious hissed at the House Lord. “You are unacceptable! You will refrain from talking until spoken to, or mark my words; you will lose all power and ranking so fast, that you will find yourself sleeping with the pigs tonight.”

  Drokel bowed his head. “I apologize, Sir.”

  The Emperor rose to his feet. “General Saris, from what I see and hear today, there is no cause to find you guilty of any treason or plotting against the empire. I dismiss all accusations. Let it be done in my mighty name.”

  With that, the men stood to their feet. Drokel grabbed Gretio by the arm, and drug him out, whispering harshly into his ear.

  Hyle moved to Saris’ side.

  “I’m not as harmless as you think my son-in-law. I know you freed Rurik—as you probably killed him yourself afterward. But, you better take care of that woman and those boys. I will be watching.” Hyle patted Saris’ arm. “You have a good night.”

  A back door swung closed as Emperor Tymedious exited through his private hallways, leaving Saris alone in the dim room. He had won, but what exactly had he started? He ran his hands over his face and through his hair. “Onto the next tedious obligation—another damn wedding.”

  Chapter 52: Sacrifices

  Amira stared at herself in the mirror. “Ready?” She asked herself.

  A soft knock landed on the door.

  “Yes?” She called out.

  An attendant pushed the door open slightly. “Lord Hyle is here. He would like to see you before the ceremony. Can I let him in?”

  “Yes, thank you.” She smiled, even that felt fake.

  It took Saris a month to sort everything out, and now it was here. Today was her wedding day. This was the day that every girl dreams about from childhood, but this was not going to be the way she had dreamed.

  “Oh, my!” Hyle clasped his hands together. “You look stunning!”

  She saw the look in his eyes. He truly cared about her. If his daughter was anything like him, she must have felt the same way about marrying General Saris.

  She started to tremble.

  “Darling, Darling,” He wrapped his arms around her. Hot tears dripped onto his tunic. “Are you alright?”

  Amira didn’t know what to say to that, so she only said, “Nervous is all.”

  “Everyone has those feelings on their wedding day. It
will be alright. Plus, Saris is typically away on empire business. You can bring the boys over to my estate for long visits.” He smiled.

  She managed a smile back. “That sounds nice.”

  “Let’s get you married!”

  * * *

  “Well, friend,” Saris was shaving in front of an ornate mirror in his suite. “We are definitely in the Emperor’s graces for him to let us use his citadel as the wedding location.” He ran his finger along the gold framework of the mirror. “It has an air of elegance that is unrivaled.”

  “Indeed,” Thandril said.

  “You will stand at my side today?”

  “If you wish it, master.”

  “Then I wish it! Ha! I don’t know why I’m in such a good mood. I hate weddings.”

  “Well then I am sorry to bring down the mood,” Thandril started, “but what is your plan for the Harmite boy? Will there be an accident of some sort?”

  “Why the hell do you need to bring that up now?”

  “Because we haven’t had an opportunity talk about it in private. And, it needs to be discussed.”

  “Fine.” Saris washed the residual soap from his face. “We can talk. I’ve decided to go along with it. Take the boy in as my own and treat him as such. He will grow to be the son of a mighty General and, alongside his brother, fight for his people. What is better than having one son to make you proud? Two!”

  Thandril let a small grin come to his lips. “I am happy with your decision.”

  “Hmm…maybe I should reconsider then!” Saris laughed. “Come on! Let’s go get them a mother!”

  * * *

  Amira’s suite door opened, and out she went.

  It took six Harmite attendants to carry her flowing train. Lord Hyle walked beside her, holding her arm in his. They snaked through the long hallways of the Emperor’s palace. The head usher escorted them, and if it wasn’t for him, she was sure they would be lost. The walls were boringly ornate. Such an overwhelming amount of riches actually worked the opposite effect on her.

  They rounded what seemed like the twentieth corner when the usher stopped suddenly at the sight of a man wearing a leather hood and cloak. Hyle was the only one of her entourage with a weapon, and a decorative, ceremonial piece at that. Still, he drew it and waved the people back.

  A raspy voice broke the silence. “I have no fight here. But… to ensure your cooperation.” The man snapped his fingers, and a dozen men shifted from behind pillars, through side doors, and from the corridor behind them.

  The hooded figure slowly approached Lord Hyle. His hands raised in the air, showing no weapon.

  “I will kill an unarmed man,” warned Hyle.

  “That would be most disappointing.”

  The man snapped forward and disarmed Hyle with ease, tossing the sword back the other way. Hyle lunged forward, but the assailant spun him around and caught him in a hold.

  “Relax.”

  Amira started to recognize the voice. “Rurik!” The name came bursting out. She ran over to him.

  Hyle realized that the situation had changed and started to relax within the man’s hold.

  “Can I let you go?” Rurik whispered into Hyle’s ear. He nodded in return.

  Rurik released his grasp and turned to catch Amira, leaping into his arms.

  She kissed him deeply.

  He held her off the ground effortlessly. “I made it in time.”

  At those words, her smile faded. Tears formed. She shook her head. “I…I have to.”

  He took a step back. “But, you do not love him. I will not be so brash to say that you love me, but I would scream from the mountains that I feel a depth of love for you that has no compare.”

  His words only brought more tears.

  She pulled him by the arm, away from the ears of others. “I have the little boys to consider. I have you to consider, in the way that as long as I go along with this, Saris will stay away from you…and…”

  “What?” Rurik wrapped her in his arms.

  “There is one other that I must protect above all.”

  “Who?”

  She placed her hand over her stomach.

  Rurik’s eyes followed and then steadied back into hers. “Truly?” He couldn’t help but smile.

  She nodded and kissed him once more. “Rurik, I love you too.” Tears flowed freely down her cheeks. She touched his face for the last time and turned to walk away.

  Shouts came from down the hallway.

  Saris appeared in the doorway, flanked by Thandril and a company of palace guard. “Get them!”

  Rurik’s men ran passed, making for an escape, but he did not move an inch. He gained, and lost, everything he ever wanted in but a moment. The profound confliction anchored his feet to the ground. The palace guards gained ground with each second. He watched as his doom approached. He wouldn’t go without a fight. He would take as many of them as he could before going down. He would destroy lives.

  With a shrug, his cloak fell away.

  He pulled two blades from his back that extended from his closed fists like knuckles. The first two guards reached him and, with a fluid uppercut, he sliced through the throat of one, and with a measured landing, impaled the chest of the next. One by one they approached, and one by one they fell. Each opponent distracted him for only a moment, his attention focused on the woman he loved.

  Each foot he gained, she faded out of his life by three.

  She reached the doorway where Saris stood and turned back in Rurik’s direction. She wiped the last tear and then wrapped her arm inside the General’s. A smirk arched across Saris’ face.

  Rurik let out a roar that echoed his anger through the corridors. He slashed his blades through the air with blistering speed. But still, his many kills were for naught, constantly reinforced by an endless army of imperial soldiers.

  A shout came.

  Klaric rushed to his friend’s side, adding his sword to the fight. “Time to go,” he said through gritted teeth.

  Rurik growled and raised a finger to Saris while finishing another guard to his left. He kicked the man off of his blade and tapped Klaric’s shoulder. They pulled down a nearby candelabrum, breaking the line, and sprinted away from the bloody mess of soldiers.

  The only memory Rurik Kaster could remember from that day was the face of his lover, transformed into a martyr for her children.

  He was forever tied to her in more than one way and now he was an outcast from her life.

  Lines were drawn. She had decided to stay with the enemy.

  The future would hold more than a few challenges. He was willing to overcome those.

  All in good time…

  The End

  Epilogue: For What the Future Holds

  A gust of wind swung the window open, slapping it against the stone wall. Rain poured in, and lightening brightened the night sky.

  “Would someone close that damn thing, and make sure that it stays shut!” Saris yelled out, shifting a blanket over his body.

  A house slave hurried at the order. He reached the opening and, as he pulled the slats back into position, he did a slight jump.

  A figure stood outside, twenty yards off, swaying amongst the estate’s tree line.

  “Sir…” The Harmite turned his head toward the sitting area, where Saris and Thandril were enjoying an after-dinner drink. “There is someone outside.”

  Thandril got to his feet and joined the slave by the window.

  “Right there…” The slave frowned. “He was right there. I swear it.” The wind blew through the empty landscape.

  “Stupid slave!” Saris grumbled from his couch.

  Thandril scanned the trees one last time and put his hand on the man’s shoulder. “The shadows of a storm.”

  The slave nodded, but clearly stifled an argument of what he saw.

  “I will be watchful tonight,” Thandril said, “Go to your quarters. Your service is no longer required.”

  He bowed and dipped out of the
room quickly.

  “Don’t put so much trust in those people,” Saris scoffed.

  Thandril didn’t indulge the General with a response.

  As the druid took his seat, a rumble grew from outside, and a mighty blast of wind ripped through the same window, throwing the wooden panels into the room.

  “What the hell?” Saris shouted.

  Both men leapt to their feet and hurried to the opening. Rain drenched the flooring. Saris leaned out the window, peering out into the darkness—nothing. Then, the rumble came again, followed by another gust of wind, and this time, it threw the men to the ground.

  The air moved past them, kissing them with a cold bitterness, laced with a ghostly whisper. A faint voice sounded from far away.

  “Get that thing closed!”

  Thandril obeyed and attached the panels with an urgent quickness, reinforcing it with a touch of his power. “That should hold, master.”

  Saris nodded. “Good.” He stood rubbing his arms.

  “We are alright,” Thandril said.

  “…Of course, of course.” Saris finally responded.

  * * *

  It watched the two men take their previous spots in the room, before moving. It circled them, staying hidden from their perception, and glided through an open doorway that led to the rest of the house. Turn, after turn, it searched and finally found itself at the door of the babies’ room. There was no noise from within and, with a frosted breath, the intruder waved the door open.

  A creak echoed through the hallway, calling a slave attendant from her room. She saw the door ajar and looked in either direction. Without seeing anyone, she moved from her doorway—the boys would catch a cold if the door was letting in a draft.

  She reached the door and tugged the handle, but it would not budge. While searching with her fingers for something that was blocking the latch, an icy tingle walked down her spine. She spun around, but the hallway was still empty. The wind died for a moment, revealing a faint breathing sound beside her. She couldn’t move—wouldn’t dare look.