Destiny

by Jason A. Cheek

  Looking down his long muzzle, Tiberius grabbed the obnoxious male by the front of his armored collar bellowing. “You witless nafda, they are my personal guards!”

  Instead of showing fear, the Commander only laughed in contempt. “What a dumb beast, admitting you have broken yet another edict from the Emperor. You of all people should know ignorance is no excuse for breaking the law.”

  “All private guards have been banned throughout the Imperium.” With surprising ease, the smaller bull effortlessly shoved Tiberius away from him. Raising his voice, the Commander continued contemptuously. “Your soldiers will lay their arms down and leave immediately, or I will have their heads put on spikes around this plaza!”

  Tiberius had spent almost his entire life surrounded by his personal guards. Every one of his bulls had become a member of his household on the day of his birth when they took their oath of fidelity. Without looking behind him, Tiberius knew that they would fight to the death before relinquishing the means to protect his life.

  “I am the son of the Emperor and next in line for the throne. The Senate itself has sanctioned the Royal Family to have their personal guardians present at all times. You will ...”

  With a bellow, the smaller male overrode Tiberius words. “There is no more Senate!” Seeing the stunned look on Tiberius’s face, the Commander smiled darkly. “Nor will there be any more of these traitorous legions left running around the Imperium.” Before Tiberius could respond, a deep baritone cut them both off.

  “I think that’s enough discussion, for now, Commander Brutus.”

  Looking up at the sound, Tiberius froze as he saw the apparition of his father, Emperor Manius Decius Lupus, standing before him. Physically, it looked like his father, but at the same time, it was nothing like his father. The once white robes hanging from his gaunt shoulders were now filthy, stained with chunks of some unidentifiable rotting flesh while dried encrusted blood matted the course fur of his long muzzle. His father’s once bright brown eyes now looked like dark sunken holes burnt into the center of his skull. There was no longer the decisive proud bull Tiberius had loved and admired as a young bullock. Instead, there was only madness. Before Tiberius couldn’t find his voice, his father lips curled in disgust.

  “You have been a great disappointment, Tiberius.” Slowly pacing back and forth, his father began ranting. “I sent you to quell the rebellion in Tulskana. Instead of killing the rebels as I commanded, you imprison my Praetorian Legatus and let those traitorous beasts live. Now, after bringing disgrace upon our house, these miserable creatures have the audacity to celebrate your return as if you were some returning hero.” His father stopped suddenly as his red-rimmed eyes bore into Tiberius. “Now I’m stuck cleaning up your mess!”

  Infuriated, Tiberius voice began rising in volume. “What rebels are you referring to father? The Praetorian Legatus and his goons that were unjustly slaughtering whole towns full of our people and then began destroying the entire provinces’ crops by closing off the aqueducts? The same crops, might I remind you, which are needed to feed the entire population of the Imperium. Or, are you talking about the law abiding citizens defending themselves against the insane bulls slaughtering them without cause?”

  Shaking his head, Tiberius’s father laughed out loud at his outburst. “Do you think I wasn’t aware of what my Praetorian Legatus was doing?” Gnarled hands suddenly grip Tiberius’s collar as his father lifted him into the air bellowing at the top of his lungs. “Nothing happens in the Imperium without my command!”

  With a wordless cry, Tiberius was flung back into the bulls behind him as his father began frothing at the mouth. “Just in case you hadn’t heard, those pointy ear savages you call friends have just destroyed the First and Second legions on their way to Aosta as they passed through the Great Forest.”

  Tiberius saw his father’s face harden into an unrecognizable mask of fury. “Your unnatural infatuation with the Elven Princess has placed the entire Imperium in jeopardy.” With a snarl, his father’s voice rose in fury. “You are no longer my son! You are nothing to me!”

  Turning away from Tiberius, his father began bellowing orders to the Praetorian Guards in the square. “Commander Brutus, you are to escort this traitor to his residence and place him under house arrest.” Pausing next to the Commander, Tiberius’s heard his father’s whispered command from where he stood. “You know what to do.”

  As a hundred bulls from the Praetorian Guard’s First Cohort suddenly surrounded Tiberius and his bulls with their weapons drawn, there was a growling rumble of dissent from the crowd of citizens at the far end of the plaza. Striding to the center of the plaza, the Emperor continued bellowing out orders. “Praetorians, on the order of your Emperor you are to clear the streets of the capital of these cattle by any means necessary!”

  Around the massive square, there was a great answering bellow as four cohorts of the Emperors Praetorian Guards slammed their mailed fists to their armored chests. A second later, battle horns rang out as two thousand bulls began moving in unison. Forming up into battle lines, the Praetorian Guards faced the outraged citizens of the city with their spears held at the ready.

  Tiberius staggered as a spear butt slammed across his back propelling him forward. Whipping his head around, he saw Commander Brutus’s cruel face daring him to fight back. “Get moving traitor!”

  Seething inside, Tiberius began following the guard escort in front of him as he and his soldiers were led out the far side of the plaza. He heard the fearful screams of the citizens crying out behind him a second later as they entered the small avenue heading towards Tiberius’s residence deeper within the city. As they walked, Tiberius felt Centurion Aquila’s rough hands grip his shoulder as his mind reeled at his father’s insanity. The dissolution of the Alliance, his mother’s death, the war with the Elves and now even the slaughter their own people, it all made no sense! Hanging his head low, Tiberius struggled to make sense of his turbulent thoughts.

  A year ago, Tiberius had been shocked when his mother had preordained her death at the hands of her husband. At first, he had refused to believe his mother’s warning, but when he found her throat ripped out and her guards disemboweled at the center of her residence in the heart of the Imperial residence. He knew then that something was terribly wrong. Switching to the Legion’s battle-speak, Tiberius began issuing orders in a low whisper.

  “On my command, form up on me. Formation Beta, double-lined staggered!”

  Without breaking stride, Decanus Cornisus passed the orders to the eight legionnaires behind him. In turn, they passed the message to Decanus Marcellus, who did the same for the legionnaires that followed him.

  Grim-faced, Tiberius’ legionnaires began secretly preparing for battle as Centurion Aquila’s bushy eyebrows rise in consternation at the order. Without comment, the older bull loosened the shoulder strap to the large double-headed battle-axe slung across his back. Tiberius knew the order itself was treason, but he had no other choice left to him.

  For the Imperium, the “Rule of Law” was sacred as any religion. Without laws and the order it brought to their civilization, there would be nothing to distinguish Minotaurs from the beasts that lived in the wild. It was the precepts of all civilization, and even the Emperor was beholden to its tenets.

  Since his mother’s death, Tiberius had been forced into a deadly game of hunter and prey. Attempts on his life had become daily occurrences within the capital and the more he sought for proof of his father’s complicity the more death seemed to follow him at every turn. The mounting evidence had become a point of contention between the citizens of the Imperium and the Emperor. It was a delicate issue, but as long as Tiberius stayed within the purview of the law, his father didn’t dare openly move against him. Looking at the guards surrounding him and his soldiers, Tiberius knew now that everything had changed.

  For his people, there was no greater crime than being a traitor, and yet in his heart Tiberius knew this was the path he must take t
o save his people. If left unchecked his father’s sickness would destroy everything around him. If he didn’t act now, the Imperium would be torn apart.

  Rounding the curve, Tiberius saw his walled domus come into sight at the end of the avenue. As they approached the last intersection, he caught Centurion Aquila’s eye. Giving the old bull a sharp nod, Tiberius activated his Wolf Gauntlets as they both backhanded the nearest guards next to them. Within seconds, the gauntlet of his right hand formed into a yard long tinnearlian blade as Centurion Aquila whipped the battle-axe from his back in one smooth motion.

  Punching out with his fist, Tiberius caught the guard nearest to him under the chin, effortlessly punching through the male’s thick skull as the Centurion completed his spin. A split second later, the wide blade of Aquila’s heavy battle-axe shattered the heavy shaft of the next guard’s spear, before slicing cleanly through the first guard’s thick neck. As the loud clanking sounds of heavy metal clanging into place reverberated throughout the narrow avenue, Tiberius’s bulls exploded into action as he bellowed at the top of his lungs.

  “Form up on me!”

  “Form up on me!”

  Turning around, Tiberius saw a guard rushing him with a heavy spear just as his left hand’s gauntlet completed its transformation. Lifting his arm, Tiberius blocked the strike with his scutum, which was a six foot tall and four foot wide tinnearlian shield.

  KLANK

  Bashing the guard in the face with his shield, Tiberius stabbed again with his right hand. The blow completely lifted the male into the air from the force of the impact as Aquila split another guard in half with a double-handed swing of his battle-axe. Taking up Tiberius’s call, both of his contubernium leaders began forming up a battle line to either side of him. With their gauntlet’s transformation complete, their bulls followed behind them like a deadly wave lashing out at any guard within the range of their razor sharp blades.

  Everything seemed to be following Tiberius’s makeshift plan. There was enough confusion to give his soldiers the time they needed to get into their individual formations as he and Aquila worked on making the hole in the guards surrounding them even bigger.

  Hearing the sounds of battle, the stretched out column of Praetorian Guards struggled to form up in the close confines of the small avenue, but the explosion of death at the center of their lines forced the separated ends to draw back far enough away to reform. Unused to moving in close quarters with their new weapons, the guards stumbled around like new recruits as their own Praetorian Decanus and Optios beat them into something resembling a formation.

  Immediately Decanus Cornisus moved in front of Tiberius defensively. Raising a silver whistle to his lips, he blew out a shrill blast signaling his bulls to form up and ready for orders. Raising his scutum before him, Cornisus planted his hooves with his gladius held at the ready as his unit formed around him. Standing shoulder to shoulder, his soldiers lined their shields up with their leader creating a solid wall across the avenue as the last four bulls formed up behind them in a second rank with Centurion Aquila at the center. At the backside of the formation, Decanus Marcellus did the same. Within seconds, his contubernium had lined up shoulder to shoulder with their shield wall facing out the opposite direction.

  Tiberius didn’t know if he should laugh or cry at the absolute disorganized mess of the Praetorian formations around them. Unlike the clean-cut Praetorian Guards that kept order in the Emperors residence, Tiberius’s bulls were battle hardened veterans that had spent most of their life in armor fighting during the Tuonellian War. Even so, Imperium troops were expected to have a certain level of military proficiency. What he was seeing was a disaster of epic proportions if this was his father’s plan for the armies of the Imperium. Bowing his head, Tiberius gave a quick prayer to the Goddess Akras asking for forgiveness for what he must do next.

  Looking at the smooth-faced young males surrounding them, Tiberius knew they would be forced to kill a number of the bullocks before their lines broke, but at least, the majority would live to see another day. For a moment, regret welled up inside of him for the path that the Akras had chosen for him to take until Tiberius heard Commander Brutus voice ring out around them.

  “Praetorians, your orders are to kill these traitors to the Emperor. Now advance!”

  Hate welled up inside Tiberius as his sorrow and rage found a focus for its outlet. One way or another he would find the answers to what was happening to his people, and he knew who was first on his list. As his blood surged through his veins, Tiberius raised his voice in command.

  “Shields on me … single formation … advance!”

  “Hhhooorrraaahhh!”

  The explosive reply reverberated from the stone walls as Tiberius’s legionnaires leaped forward. Their ironidium-shod hooves struck the cobblestones with a metallic ring as they picked up speed. Moving as a single unit, Tiberius’s bulls launched themselves scutum first into the Praetorian phalanx like a battering ram.

  Heavy ironidium spearheads crumpled on impact against tinnearlian shield walls as the front two ranks of the Praetorian Guards were blasted from their hooves into the ranks behind them. The entire front of the formation was suddenly thrown into chaos. As the first contuberniums forward momentum suddenly came to a stop, Tiberius realized something was horribly wrong.

  Chapter Five

  Location Irlendria / Lúthien Narmolanya:

  Lúthien cringed as the old door’s hinges squealed loudly throughout the empty chamber. Carefully she peeked into the dark room beyond. It was just as she’d expected. At this time of the day, the Atrium of the Ancestors was deserted.

  Slipping through the crack, Lúthien quickly closed the door behind her with a muted thump. Leaning against the smooth wood, she sighed softly at the sight before her. Looking out across the gigantic chamber Lúthien’s thoughts went back to her grandmother who always brought here to sit among the Tinnearlian trees when she was young. After all these years the natural beauty of the Atrium still stole her breath away.

  On either side of the central aisle, silvery trees grew to form the walls of the chamber. Their delicate branches created a shimmering canopy high overhead while their jeweled leaves sparkled like stars in the low light. At either end of the atrium, the calcimite stone walls of the Fortress merged flawlessly with the ancient grove creating what her people called “living architecture.” Warden Morwen told her there was nothing like it in all of Irlendria.

  Grinning mischievously Lúthien’s silken slippers whisked across the marble floor as she dashed across the silent chamber. Bounding up the dais at the far end of the room, she slipped behind the jewel throne at the very top of the steps. Going to the back wall, Lúthien studied the intricate inlaid designs depicting the history of Irlendria, searching for the secret lever Warden Morwen had pointed out on her hundredth birthday. Finding the image of the Elven God Tapio, she ran her delicate fingers to the top of the Bear King’s head. Spreading out her slender hand, she measured down Tapio’s face. One … two … three … stopping at the center of the god’s lichen beard, Lúthien felt the depression under her thumb and pushed.

  CLICK

  Silently the hidden door swung open as a cool breeze momentarily blew her long silver black-streaked hair away from her face. Pulling the silken shawl around her shoulders even tighter, Lúthien ducked into the damp corridor closing the panel behind her. As she climbed the stairs, Lúthien’s delicate filigree necklace chimed softly with each step as she headed back into the keep.

  The secret passage was a little too cool for her silken attire. Already she could feel goose bumps rising on her smooth skin as she skittered down the corridor quickly. Her short silken halter top and thin loose pants were better suited for the hot midday sun then these dank passageways, but she would only need to be in them for a few short moments.

  “Let’s see Argus find her now.” Argus sense of smell was phenomenal, even for a Wenci. He always won the princesses games of hide-and-seek. Normally, Lúthien hid
with her cousin Enelya Tasartir, Princess of the Wild Elves, but Argus always seemed to find them first. Even though Enelya promised that he didn’t use their spirit link to track them down. Losing to a lesser species was intolerable, so this time, Lúthien wasn’t taking any chances.

  From what Lúthien knew of the spirit link a Wild Elf and their animal companion shared, it wasn’t true telepathy. From what treatises she’d read on the subject during her studies it was more of an empathic sharing of emotions and feelings. Although some of the stories she’d read on the subject had hinted that there was more to the relationship than just the sharing of emotions, nothing more had ever been officially substantiated about the binding. Except for the hearsays and rumors listed in the margins of her tombs, there was no additional information she’d discovered in her research of the Sál Tengilinn affect.

  Lúthien had tried to get Enelya to tell her about the link she shared with Argus, but her enigmatic cousin wouldn’t say anything more on the subject. Sometimes she could be so frustrating like that. Still, she didn’t comprehend how anyone could just turn off that kind of connection.

  Even though Enelya wasn’t a High Elf, Lúthien still loved her cousin. Unlike many of her Clan, she didn’t hold the Wild Elves’ nature against them. Although, she wasn’t about to lose another round to that dumb beast either. Lúthien crept up the steps until the dark passage let out into a seldom used alcove on the keep’s third level near her father’s private library as her thoughts drifted to the current conflicts between the Clans of her people.

  The first rift started when the Wild Clan first spirit-bonded with their Wenci companions. While this bonding had strained the relationship between the Clans, the true schism hadn’t come until after the battle of Daeron Fortress, when the High and Forest Clans had turned their focus into learning the arcane knowledge of the Klavikians and the power it held to fight the Tuonellian Hordes invading their world.