War of the Fathers: War of the Fathers Universe: Volumes One - Three Box Set (War of the Fathers Series Box Set Book 1)

by Dan Decker

  Three hallways led from the tower. One went north while the others went east and west. They took the one that went north. As best he could tell from the glimpses he caught down the other hallways, they both went straight to the east and west towers of the palace. The hallway that led to the central tower was wide enough to move ten men abreast, like the Inner Wall, and it was two stories tall. He was a little surprised to see this but supposed he shouldn’t have been. The architects of Rarbon had wanted the ability to move large amounts of men very quickly. The hallways heading east and west were much smaller.

  The guard didn’t give Jorad much time to observe anything as they moved quickly towards the central tower.

  Sometime later the hallway opened into a large room, and he knew that they’d entered the central tower. A large set of double doors opened to the right, and he could see into a vast ballroom, complete with a balcony.

  The guard turned up a set of stairs and took them two at a time. Jorad clenched his teeth but made no complaint as he followed. He couldn’t climb more than one, so he was forced to move twice as fast to keep up.

  He was drenched with sweat and was heaving five stories later when they left the stairs. He noticed with chagrin that the guard didn’t have a single drop of sweat on his forehead. The man was probably used to running up and down the stairs all day long. Five stories appeared to be nothing to him.

  If—No, when my back heals, if I can avoid any more beatings, I’ll need to make running stairs part of my morning routine. Given the height of the walls and the fact that every single confounded building in Rarbon was over six stories, he would be better suited for this environment if he were in decent shape.

  The guard sped up, not even looking back to see if Jorad was following.

  Jorad’s back screamed with pain, and every single muscle called out for relief, but he paid them no heed as he pushed himself to follow the man. The hallway seemed to stretch on past the point where Jorad was sure they should have already arrived at the end of it, but still they went on.

  How big was the central tower?

  The decorations on this floor were different than those below, but he didn’t realize it at first because he was more focused on sucking down air. All the paintings below had been of war and battle, up here they were of flowers and animals.

  Had it always been this way or was this how Abel wanted it decorated? After a moment’s thought, Jorad decided it must have been done by Abel’s current wife. Abel didn’t seem the type to hang paintings of animals and flowers.

  The guard came to an abrupt halt beside a set of double doors, not as tall or grand as those downstairs leading into the ballroom, but still far larger than the average door in a person’s home.

  As the guard rapped on the door, Jorad examined his surroundings. As much as Abel’s wife had tried to put a feminine touch on the place, she hadn’t been able to cover the austerity of the Rarbon Palace. While it was without question the largest building Jorad had ever seen, he’d seen finer. The walls were rough as if an intentional reminder to the occupants that they should not get too comfortable. The floors were a mixture of black and gray tile.

  Jorad half expected to find murder holes here as well but there were none.

  How many times had the boy Adar played in this hallway, running with a small wooden sword in hand? It was difficult to imagine his father as a kid because the man rarely cracked a smile or told a joke.

  How is he doing? Jorad wondered. He was certain Adar was fighting the Hunwei. And he’s probably doing a better job of it than I am. At least Adar wouldn’t have to deal with stupid politics.

  Five minutes passed before the door opened and another guard poked out his head.

  “Jorad Rahid is here,” said the escort, the man’s voice high and cracked like a boy who was on the verge of becoming a man.

  “It will be a few minutes.” The guard pushed the door shut, leaving the two of them standing alone in the hallway. Jorad’s escort looked like he’d expected nothing less and Jorad certainly wasn’t surprised. It was a typical move for someone who wanted to emphasize their importance.

  “This floor is decorated differently than below,” Jorad said, “any idea why?”

  The guard raised an eyebrow, gave Jorad a cold look, but didn’t answer the question. Instead, he took up position in front of the door as if concerned Jorad was thinking of slipping inside uninvited.

  Jorad shook his head, wondering if it would have been better to not come, to make Abel summon him several times.

  Or better yet, just ignore his requests altogether. The problem was that he still hoped to find a way to turn Abel into an ally. He couldn’t afford to close any of the possibilities, considering everything that was at stake. If Abel’s decision to support Jorad had been motivated for the good of Rarbon, it was something he could work with.

  Jorad had no way of telling the time, but he was certain it was more than half an hour later before the door opened and Jorad and the guard were ushered inside. At least Jorad had stopped sweating, and his uniform was dark enough to cover the pit stains under his arms.

  The room was vast, with floor to ceiling windows that looked out on the north side of the city. It stood in stark contrast to the rest of the floor as it was closer in decoration to the rest of the palace. It was also quite cluttered. There were paintings of battle everywhere Jorad looked. A statue of a man holding a sword stood in a corner. His blade was pointed towards the window as if attacking. Weapons of all sorts hung on the walls, but Jorad saw nothing that didn’t come from the present day.

  Jorad shifted as he thought of his blaster that hung from his back beside his sword, wondering if Abel was going to insist he lay aside his weapons. Surely, Abel would know from Tere the manner of weapon Jorad carried. His blaster and the Ou Qui dagger were his most treasured possessions, and he wouldn’t part with them for the world.

  Abel sat behind a desk that was parallel to the windows, his back to them as they entered. Adar would have faced it the opposite direction, so he had a view of the door.

  “Have a seat.” Abel motioned to a group of chairs positioned to look out over the city. “I’ll join you shortly.” He appeared to be reviewing a stack of papers and didn’t look up as he spoke.

  Jorad considered the request—he wasn’t going to think of it as an order—and decided he’d meet Abel halfway by going where he wanted but refusing to sit.

  It wasn’t just an act of defiance. After his workout on the stairs, he was afraid his muscles might seize if he sat. A fine fool he’d look if he were unable to leave when the meeting ended.

  When Jorad stood behind the chair and clasped his hands behind his back, he could tell without looking that the eyes of both guards were on him. He was tempted to check but didn’t.

  Abel had played Jorad for a fool already, and he wasn’t going to give the man an inch if he could avoid it. Yet, if there were any good intentions on Abel’s part, Jorad would hold back, trying to coax them forward. It was best for the city if the two of them could work together. Jorad longed to focus on the Hunwei and put all the political wrangling behind him.

  Politics? He refrained from shaking his head. More like war. The problem was that he kept giving Abel far more opportunities than he should.

  As Jorad looked out over the city, it occurred to him why Abel had made this room his office. He could see into the Barim army encampment from here. Even though Abel was the Rahar, Jorad had learned that another man had been appointed as general in his place over Barim, that general was referred to as the acting general, because Abel was still in charge of the army. To be sure, that army was the only true vestige of Abel’s power.

  The acting Barim general was the only one required to follow Abel’s orders. Everybody else viewed him as a peer, a first among generals, but not somebody who gave them orders.

  It was a little vain to select a location from which he could look out over his only real dominion, but that was to be expected when dealing with a man
such as Abel.

  “Our time grows short,” Jorad said when Abel finally approached.

  His grandfather frowned as if trying to make it look like he’d just realized that Jorad hadn’t taken a seat, but he’d certainly noticed as soon as Jorad had taken his place behind the chair.

  Abel gave Jorad a cold stare and placed his hands on the back of the chair next to the one Jorad stood behind.

  “You can drop your lies.” Abel frowned. “They won’t serve you with me the way they will with others.”

  “I don’t lie, grandfather.” It was an attempt to remind the man of the duty he owed Jorad, but it fell on deaf ears, not surprising considering everything Abel had done to his own son.

  “Adar still believed, even after I showed him proof they were lies told to keep the people in line. Did you know that?” Abel looked as if that should have affected Jorad. “That ghastly head is no proof. I only went along with it to help you not look a fool in front of the Council, but you must tone down your rhetoric.”

  At last, he fully reveals himself, I have indeed been a fool. Jorad was tempted to take off his blaster and shoot a hole through Abel’s desk to show what it could do, but then he’d be forced to kill the guards, and possibly Abel too. If the man refused to see what was in front of him, Jorad couldn’t force him to see otherwise.

  “I’ve killed Hunwei,” Jorad said. “Adar and I are the first in over a thousand years, but I can assure you they are as real as this palace. And they’re coming. We must find a way into the Rarbon Portal. If we can—”

  “I’m becoming frustrated. Can’t you see I’m trying to help you?”

  “Why summon me? If you didn’t ask me here to come up with a strategy to keep Rarbon from falling into the Hunwei’s hands, I’m wasting my time.”

  Abel studied Jorad. “I see much of your father in you, but you’re not him. You don’t have the same drive. The same will. If you don’t accept my help, I fear you won’t last long.”

  Jorad snorted. “Adar and I are two different people, but perhaps you underestimate me.”

  “Time will tell.” Abel walked back to his desk, opened a drawer, and tossed a bag towards Jorad who caught it, the sudden weight almost causing it to slip from his hands. “That’s twenty gold pieces if you leave now.” He nodded toward the Barim section of the city. “If you go out that gate I’ll see you’re given a horse with two hundred more. I don’t care where you go, just never show your face in Rarbon again.”

  Jorad hefted the bag as if weighing the offer. “That’s a kingly sum.” Coming from a man who wants to be a king. He set the bag on one of the chairs. “But I won’t be bought, grandfather.” He turned to go, but the guards barred his way, both reaching for the sword hilts beside their heads.

  “The problem with Adar was he believed he could change the world. And that confounded Semal got it in Adar’s head that the Hunwei were real, and would return. Perhaps if he hadn’t been so delusional, he would still be here today.” Abel’s voice showed remorse as he finished speaking.

  Is he trying to help or just get rid of me? If he honestly doesn’t believe in the Hunwei, that’s one thing. But if he doesn’t care because he is so much more concerned with consolidating power…

  “You miss him?” Jorad asked, keeping his voice level while folding his arms. His tone made the guards frown, but he wasn’t worried. He’d have his blaster out before they could get to him. It was strange he didn’t feel the slightest hesitation to use it against Abel’s men, but he would take advantage of whatever he must to bring down Abel if his grandfather chose to fight him.

  “Careful, boy.” Abel’s voice was quiet, yet it cut through the room. “You make it sound as if I don’t love my own son.”

  “A statement he’d have trouble believing.” Jorad turned to Abel. “I make no accusation, I’m just asking the question.”

  “The rumors are false. They’re just stories told by my detractors. I understand how Adar feels, I truly do, but can’t you and I set that all aside?”

  Jorad frowned. “I would like nothing better but find it difficult. It was your suggestion I be lashed, in front of the army I was to command.” He moved towards the door, but Abel grabbed his arm. The two guards tensed.

  “You gave me no other choice. It was that or death, boy. Clearly, you’d prefer the one.” He frowned. “I will admit my issues with Adar have been coloring things between you and me, but you can’t deny this goes both ways.”

  Jorad felt a sliver of hope, wanting to believe he’d misjudged things. Despite all the airs he took on, Abel might not have as much influence with the Council as it seemed.

  “Adar didn’t talk about you much and when he did it was certainly colored by his view of you. I can look past that.”

  “Very good. Our relationship can still be salvaged.”

  Jorad’s eyebrows rose. “Are you willing to accept that the Hunwei are back? Tere should have told you everything. His man Lous was killed by the Hunwei. Tere fought the Hunwei and carries one of their weapons.”

  “The longer you hold onto these delusions, the worse it will be for you. As for Tere, well, he has other issues of his own to deal with right now. Look, I take no joy in your pain. It’s the opposite, in fact.”

  Was Abel really extending the hand of fellowship? His grandfather was a powerful man and would be a useful ally if he could trust him. At the very least I need to not antagonize him. Jorad’s frown deepened. It would save a lot of time if they could work together.

  “Say I believe you.” Jorad sighed. “What comes next?”

  “I’ll set aside the question of the Hunwei for now. I know how to find the princess of Karchack. Once you have her, it will not be difficult to ease tensions between the two cities, you could have the first task completed within the month.”

  Jorad stared into Abel’s eyes, knowing what his father would do. Adar would say Abel couldn’t be trusted, that he couldn’t rely on a single word.

  But if any of Abel’s information about Karchack proved true and Jorad returned the princess, he’d be that much closer to completing the trials and gaining access to the Rarbon Portal.

  But let’s not forget this is the man who was jealous of my father in every way. The only reason I can see for him to help me is if he believed me about the Hunwei and he’s made it clear he does not.

  “If I can deliver the body of a Hunwei, would that convince you?”

  Abel was quiet for a long time, and Jorad could see the man considering all the ramifications of the offer.

  “Your certainty about the Hunwei almost convinces me. But not entirely. I will be patient until you can provide a full corpse. At such time, we’ll make plans to defend the city.”

  Jorad was taken aback but didn’t dare go back on what he’d said. He extended his hand and clasped Abel’s. “We are agreed.”

  Chapter 32

  It was almost noon by the time Jorad returned to the Napael base. He took the stairs in the Inner Wall as fast as he could, feeling chagrin when a group of recruits dashed up the stairs past him. He wanted to participate in their training to show he wasn’t above such things but the condition of his back made it impossible. Perhaps in a month, it might be something he could try, but for the present, he’d just have to let things remain as they were.

  The lieutenant generals were in the meeting room, as was Bullford. Barlon glowered when Jorad entered the room. Vaar looked up, appearing to be bored. Only Pakel gave Jorad and anxious look.

  The man thinks he will accompany me on my hunt for the princess and is not excited about it. That was what Jorad wanted the man to think. As two of his three lieutenant generals had made it very clear they’d like Jorad to meet with an accident, Jorad had decided the only thing he could do was manipulate his men until they either worked out or he got rid of them.

  It wasn’t his preferred approach, but there was too much at stake.

  It wasn’t something he did lightly, and he knew Adar would speak to him about it shoul
d it ever get back to his father, but Jorad wasn’t his father. Adar had the luxury of being able to throw around his weight because he’d grown up in an environment in which he’d expected everybody to do what he said, and those around him were predisposed to following his orders. It wasn’t going to work that way for Jorad, and he didn’t have time to bemoan the fact that his situation was different.

  Jorad looked at Bullford. “Wait outside, I won’t be long.” As the man shut the door, Jorad took his seat at the head of the table and winced as he unwittingly sat back in his chair. This drew a look of ire from Vaar and an outright grin from Barlon, further confirming Jorad’s suspicions that Barlon had been part of the team who had beaten him.

  “Pakel,” Jorad said. “Did you ready the men I requested. My supplies too?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “We leave within the hour.”

  Pakel nodded with a swallow. “Yes, sir.”

  Jorad smiled. “I must apologize Pakel, I meant that your men and I will leave, you’ll be staying here. You’ll be in charge in my absence.” Pakel looked up, surprise covering his face as Jorad continued. “While I’m gone you’ll focus on getting every last rat eradicated from this base. I want the cats kept hungry and the dogs on leashes. If they can’t be trained as guard dogs, put them down.”

  Barlon turned red in the face, but Jorad ignored it. “Vaar you’ll be coming with me. You’re excused so you can get your belongings ready for the road. We’ll meet at the Outer Gate.” That wiped the smug look off the man’s face. He thought he’d be staying and was enjoying Barlon’s discomfort.

  After Vaar had gone, Barlon could contain himself no longer.

  “I will not be left here with this man over me.” He gestured towards Pakel with a fist. “I’m the senior and by rights should be in charge in your absence. Sir.” He added the last part hurriedly but in a begrudging manner. Jorad considered calling him out for it but decided to ignore the misstep.