“Surprised to see us?” Yolstice asked. He was smiling, looking pleased with himself. “My spies in Telur have told me a lot about you, dear boy, but I think they’ve overestimated you. My men took you awfully easy.”
Flare was still dumbstruck. His uncle had done this? Finally he found his voice. “You had those members of the Elven Guard killed?”
Yolstice’s smile slipped a little at that. “Unfortunately, yes. I hate it, but it was necessary.”
“Necessary,” Flare repeated, anger rising up within him. “How can you say that? Elves do not kill elves, ever, for any reason.”
Yolstice’s smile was completely gone now. “Do not preach to me boy. I’m trying to save the elven kingdom. I don’t suppose that’s something you could understand.”
“Trying to save the elven kingdom? How, by killing elven rangers?”
There was a movement behind Flare and something hard hit him in the back of the knees. A sharp pain blossomed in his legs and he collapsed to his knees.
“Show proper respect,” one of the elven guards growled behind him.
“It seems to me,” Flare said slowly, “that I am showing the respect due to a murderer.”
The guards moved in again, but they stopped as Yolstice held up his right hand. Flare’s uncle also placed his left hand on Bantharuis’s shoulder. Although Bantharuis and Flare were the same age, Bantharuis still looked like a young boy, even though hatred showed in his young eyes.
“Have a care,” Yolstice said. “I will not be spoken to in such a manner.”
“And how would King Feilolas speak to you about this?” Flare asked. He was seething inside.
Yolstice sighed. “Well now, I’m glad that you mentioned father.”
Flare was surprised. “You’re not going to tell me that he knows about all of this?”
“Of course not,” Yolstice snapped, showing a bit of the angry persona that Flare was used to. “I’m quite sure that he doesn’t have the stomach to do what needs to be done. He would probably respond much the same way that you are, but we’re not going to give him the chance.”
“What’s that mean?”
“It means, that father has lost the ability to run the kingdom. He cannot make tough decisions, anymore.” Yolstice paused and then added, “I even believe that he would forgive you.”
“Do you know what’s about to happen? Do you know that the Kelcer prophecy is being fulfilled? Do you know what happens if Zalustus restores the Dragon Order?”
“Lies!” Yolstice shouted. “Do you think you can fool us as easily as you fooled the humans?” Yolstice shook his head and appeared to calm down. “Now, where is Ossendar?”
Flare shook his head, amazed at how far his uncle had fallen.
There was movement behind him and someone kicked him, hard. “Answer the prince.”
“I left the sword in the castle,” Flare said through gritted teeth.
“More lies,” Yolstice said. “You would not leave it behind. I simply don’t believe it.”
Flare snorted. “Well, I assure you that I didn’t eat it.” That remark earned him another kick.
“Sir,” one of the elven guards said, “we interrogated one of the Elven Guard before we killed him. He said that these two spent several days at one of the guardhouses in the forest.”
Yolstice nodded. “So, you hid it at the guardhouse, or perhaps somewhere in the vicinity.” He pulled his eyes from Flare and spoke to someone behind him. “Go search the guardhouse and the area around it. Do not return without that sword.” Yolstice turned back to Flare. “My dear boy, you’re going to help me ascend the throne.”
The words took a minute to register and then Flare cocked his head to one side. “And how am I going to do that?” he asked.
“By killing King Feilolas,” Yolstice answered. His eyes never left Flare’s face.
Flare swallowed hard and shook his head. “You’re insane,” he said slowly. He almost expected another kick, but none was forthcoming. “I’ll never help you kill my grandfather.”
Yolstice smiled. “I didn’t actually expect you to kill him. I just plan on blaming his death on you when I kill him. After all, who will the elves believe, you or me?”
Flare looked around at the other elves in the room. “How can you help him do this?” he asked. “He’s planning on killing your king.”
Yolstice actually laughed. “These men cannot be swayed by the likes of you. They committed themselves to me long ago.” Yolstice turned to one of the guards. “Put him back in his cell. Leave him there until I’m ready for him. It won’t be long.”
The last sight Flare had was of his uncle and cousin, gloating as he was pushed into the dirty cell.
Epilogue
Zalustus stood on the shore of the Adelion, staring out at the charred husk that had been one of the chain of bridges that were to move his army across the river. Anger swelled within him at the sight. Such utter fools! he thought.
“My lord?” a voice called questioningly from his right.
Zalustus turned and looked at the speaker, it was Lord Aston. The fool that had let this disaster happen under his command. He knelt; his knees in the sand, with two goblin guards standing just behind him. If he had any sense, he should have ran and hid. If he’d had any sense, the bridge most likely wouldn’t have burnt.
“My lord,” Lord Aston repeated. “I assure you there wasn’t any way for me to know this was about to happen. My men will repair the damage quickly.”
Zalustus continued to ignore the man and turned the other way to where the architect stood, the man that had personally designed the bridges. “How long will it take to repair the damage?” he demanded.
The architect looked sideways at Lord Aston.
“Look at me!” Zalustus shouted. “I asked the question. Give me your answer.”
The man swallowed hard. “My best guess is three weeks,” he replied quietly. He kept his eyes on Zalustus’s face the whole time he spoke.
Zalustus nodded. Without another word, he drew his sword and took two quick steps toward Lord Aston. The man seemed to sense what was about to happen at the last moment, but there was nothing he could do. Zalustus raised his sword and sliced it horizontally; severing Lord Aston’s head in one quick stroke.
The headless body collapsed to the ground, spilling its lifeblood all across the sand.
Two more lords knelt on the sand. They were wide-eyed and fearful. One of the men mustered some courage and spoke up. “My Lord Zalustus, I can assure you that we will get the bridge done as quickly as possible. We will get the men under our command to move faster than ever.”
“Wer’ock!” Zalustus called out, ignoring the groveling lord. If that man had any sense, he’d hold his tongue. Drawing Zalustus’s attention as this moment was not the smartest of moves.
A large black goblin stepped forward. “Yyess, mmyy Llorddd.”
Zalustus watched the goblin, noticed how the other goblins and humans moved quickly out of his path. This was someone they feared. “I’m placing you in charge.”
“Aass yyyouuu wwwiiish,” the goblin growled.
The goblin turned his attention to the two lords who still knelt on the beach. “I wwwannt yyyou ttwwo fffooor ddinner.”
The nearer of the two lords nodded his head. “Of course. We’d be pleased beyond measure to join you for dinner.” Although the words were flattering, the man had gone white at the thought.
Zalustus chuckled, causing the two lords to look at him. “You misunderstand,” he said simply. “Wer’ock doesn’t want you to join him for dinner. He wants you as dinner.”
Both lords look confused, but they soon realized what he meant when several goblins dragged them down the beach, to where two fires were burning; two fires with large spits hanging over them. It wasn’t long before the men began to scream.
Zalustus turned back to the architect; he appeared to be struggling to keep from getting sick. “I’m giving you ten days. After that Wer’ock will
have you for dinner. Do you understand?”
The man nodded frantically. “Yes, my lord. It will be done. I swear it.”
The following are the first two chapters of Long Shot: A Remnant of the Commonwealth, Book One
Chapter 1
Colonel Aaron Walker sat on the small bed in his quarters, fighting the worry that was threatening to overtake him. Something was wrong, it just had to be.
In truth, his quarters were more of a cell than anything else. The room was small, as would be expected of a hospital room; what’s more it was a hospital room with a locked door; there wasn’t even a window in the door to see through. The small room’s furnishings were a bed, toilet, sink, and a small cabinet for clothes and other personal affects—not that he had been allowed to keep any of his personal things.
The only items he had were the thin blue shirt and pants he was required to wear while sleeping. And the clothes had been given to him three days ago, which was why his anxiety was fighting to run away with him. Never before had he gone more than eight hours or so before someone would check on him. There hadn’t even been any food or water provided in that whole time and he had been especially thankful that his room had a sink. Without it, he may have already been clawing his eyes out over his thirst. As it was, his stomach kept growling over the lack of food. As his grandfather would have said, his stomach was gnawing away at his backbone.
His hands and feet started to get cold, so Aaron wearily climbed off of the bed and dropped to the floor to do some pushups. He was a military man and he would remain prepared for whatever came.
He was thirty-seven years old, with close cut brown hair. Tall and muscular, he had always taken pleasure maintaining his physical prowess. He looked rough now; he had three days stubble on his face and it constantly itched, plus he hadn’t slept well over the last several nights.
Again his mind wondered back to the issue at hand; what was going on? Where had the hospital staff disappeared to? The only thing that made any sense was that something had happened with the war, and that was not a very pleasant thought. He was a Colonel in the Army of the Commonwealth Alliance, a loose federation of some twenty-six independent systems aligned with each other for protection and trade. For nearly a hundred standard years the Alliance had been at peace, partially because of the Alliance and partially because the two main powers in this backward sector of space hadn’t bothered to notice. Seven years ago that had all changed. The Lagashian Empire, a large and wealthy collection of planets and one of the two superpowers in this region, began an assault against a small collection of neighboring systems. With their main rival’s attention diverted, the Miram Union had attacked the Commonwealth. The Miram Union was an autocratic superpower with nearly two hundred systems under its control. The Commonwealth won more battles than it lost in the war, but the sheer number of the Unionists was overwhelming. Eighteen months ago, Aaron had been called to his commander’s office and asked to volunteer for a classified mission; it was a request he had agreed to immediately.
When he had been asked to volunteer for this assignment nearly a year and a half ago, the war had been going badly. If something had happened, then it most likely was not good news.
He had volunteered thinking he was signing up for a high level assassination or perhaps a tricky piece of sabotage behind the Unionists’ lines. He hadn’t expected to be sent to a hospital and experimented on, but that was exactly what had happened. He wasn’t entirely sure what they had done to him, but he had a suspicion and it terrified him.
A beeping sound came from the door and he looked up, both surprised and hopeful. The sound had been the electronic lock being activated. The door swung open and two men stepped into the room, closing the door behind them. Aaron quickly climbed to his feet to greet them.
The nearer of the two men was Dr. Moore; one of the lead physicians in this little medical experiment. He was a short and skinny man whose grey hair was receding quickly. He wore a smile today, as he always did, but for some reason the smile looked forced and it made Aaron uneasy. It was unusual, normally Dr. Moore was friendly, almost carefree, but he didn’t seem that way today.
The second man was an orderly and he hung back near the door. That too was unusual. Normally, Dr. Moore entered Aaron’s room by himself. The orderly stood next to the door, watching Aaron and holding a shock stick.
If his unease hadn’t been bad enough already, the sight of the shock stick set off alarm bells in his head. Something was definitely wrong here. The shock stick was a metal bar about two feet long with a bulbous end. It was used to control prisoners as the bulbous end gave off a paralyzing shock that would render the victim unable to move. In all of his time at the hospital, he had never seen an orderly carrying one.
Aaron turned his eyes back to Dr. Moore. The good doctor had been watching Aaron as he studied the orderly. “Doc, what’s going on?”
Dr. Moore sighed and motioned for Aaron to sit on the bed. He stepped closer and began slowly waving his left arm over Aaron’s body. He wore a medical sleeve on his left arm that allowed him to read Aaron’s vitals. The sleeve was a small computer that covered from the elbow to the fingers; it was covered in small buttons and electronic displays. “Bad news, I’m afraid.”
“The war?” Aaron asked, giving voice to the thoughts that had bugged him for days.
The doc nodded. “Yes, it’s over.”
Aaron blinked, not understanding. “What do you mean over?” Understanding slowly dawned on him and he leaned closer to the doc, ignoring the orderly stepping closer. “Did we lose?”
Moore hesitated a moment and then he nodded again. “Afraid so.”
The words rolled over Aaron and everything seemed to go numb. How could they have lost and what did it mean? Almost in a fog, he asked the thing he dreaded but had to know. “I have family on Gamma Crucis, in the capital city. How do I find out about them?”
Dr. Moore looked exceedingly uncomfortable. “Sorry to have to tell you this, but Gamma Crucis was obliterated. The unionists bombed the planet to where it’s unrecognizable.”
Aaron reached up and grabbed the doc by the right arm. “But they might still be alive.” His eyes had gone wide and he was nearing panic now.
As he grabbed the doctor’s arm, the orderly took several quick steps forward but stopped at a wave from the doctor.
“The bombing happened nearly four months ago and no supplies have made it through the Unionist’s lines. Starvation and disease have taken over the planet. If your family survived the initial bombardment, then they are most surely dead now.” He removed Aaron’s hand from his arm and placed it in Aaron’s lap. “I’m truly sorry.”
Aaron took slow deep breaths, trying to calm himself down. This couldn’t be happening. How could his family be dead, and for four months? Something else rose up in him then, past the pain and anguish—fury. His family had died four months ago and no one had bothered to tell him! Pure uncontrollable rage surged through him and he kicked out with his right foot, catching Dr. Moore in the chest and sending him flying. The doctor’s arms windmilled and something else went flying as well, a laser needle flew out of Dr. Moore’s hand and skidded across the floor. The laser needle was a small device used to inject drugs painlessly.
The sight of the laser needle sliding across the floor was like a bucket of cold water being dumped on Aaron; the rage disappeared, replaced instead by a firm determination. There was only one reason that he could think of for slipping him a shot; the war was over and the doctors wanted to keep this little lab experiment completely quiet.
The orderly charged with the shock stick held out in front of him.
Aaron grabbed the pillow off of his bed and swung it with his right arm. The pillow collided with the shock stick and he felt a painful numbing sensation spread through his right forearm. With the orderly thrown a little off balance, Aaron jumped in close, inside the reach of the shock stick. He grabbed the orderly’s wrist with his good left hand; trying to keep the damn
stick from getting near him.
With his right arm numb and pretty much useless, Aaron was completely unable to block the orderly’s punch. It hit him square in the jaw, making his head ring. Still holding onto the man’s right wrist, Aaron kicked out with his right foot and heard a satisfying crunch as he shattered the man’s kneecap. For just a second, the orderly stood there. He went completely white and his eyes bulged, and then he just sort of toppled over, dropping the shock stick as he fell. He hit the ground hard and screamed, his hands holding his ruined knee.
Taking his time, Aaron picked up the shock stick and almost casually touched it to the orderly’s forehead. There was a brief thumping sound and the man passed out, his eyes rolling up. The shock stick was generally non-lethal, but when used against a person’s head, it could cause brain damage or even death. At this point, Aaron simply didn’t care.
Keeping an eye on the doctor, Aaron quickly pulled off his blue patient’s outfit and tossed it into a corner. He then stripped the orderly of his white uniform and donned it himself. The orderly was a bit taller and wider than Aaron, but the clothes fit well enough. Dressing himself was made more difficult by his numbed right arm, but nevertheless, he pulled on the clothes and buttoned them up slowly.
Tossing the shock stick onto the bed, Aaron picked up the laser needle and moved over to where Dr. Moore sat against the wall. He was rubbing the back of his head with both hands, having apparently knocked his head against the wall when Aaron kicked him.
Stopping beside the doctor, Aaron kicked him in the shins. “Hey! Look at me.”
Dr. Moore looked up, his eyes were a little glazed. His gaze drifted past Aaron and came to rest on the orderly. “My god. Did you kill him?”
Aaron shrugged. “Maybe, I’m not really sure.” He bent down over the doctor who cringed back away. “Tell me why you came here.”
“What - what do you mean?”
A Gathering of Armies Page 33