“I see that you have become a general,” she said with a smile.
“Not just a general,” chuckled General Pfaff, “but the Commanding General of Vinafor. I can’t believe Daramoor actually did that. I have General Forshire to thank for making that possible.”
“That is good,” smiled the queen. “It is one less detail that I have to worry about.”
“I don’t mean to keep the title, Your Highness,” blushed the Vinaforan general. “It was helpful to control the army, but I would not presume to declare myself the Commanding General.”
“You are not declaring yourself,” replied the queen. “Had Daramoor not already done so, making you the head general of Vinafor was one of the first items on my list. You have earned that title and much more, Pfaff. You have earned my respect and admiration. Without your steadfast devotion, I doubt that this day would have ever arrived.”
Turning to General Forshire the queen smiled motherly. “How did Daramoor take the trial?” she asked.
“Better than expected,” answered Clint. “He did try to have his men kill me, but Stan and I managed all right. I had expected him to try intimidating me, or haggle for a better deal, but I think deep down he knew that his grand act was over. He has a deep fear of being handed over to the men of the 31st Corps. Once I threatened him with that, he became docile. I did let him down slowly by letting him think that Emperor Jaar might show leniency, but he has accepted his fate.”
“Is he aware of how you and Pfaff manipulated him?” asked the queen.
“I do not think he has managed to put it all together yet,” answered Clint. “I feel confident that if he did, he would not submit to his punishment.”
“Daramoor never was very bright,” stated the queen. “He rose by eliminating his competition, not through his brilliance. I only wish I had detected his vile ways earlier. When I did discover the kind of man he was, it was too late for me to do anything about it.”
“When is the hanging?” asked Sidney Mercado.
“Within the hour,” answered General Pfaff. “After that is over, we can bring the queen out of hiding, and she can announce our withdrawal from the Federation.”
“I do not plan to hide,” stated Queen Romani. “I came to see Daramoor hanged. I plan to be there when that noose is put around his neck, and I want you two generals by my side.”
“That is risky,” frowned Clint. “Daramoor will surely figure out that he has been tricked.”
“Good,” replied the queen. “That is exactly what I expected. I want that vile beast to understand that he was brought down intentionally, and I want him to know who did it.”
“He may still have confederates foolish enough to try to rescue him,” warned General Pfaff. “I agree with General Forshire. It is too risky for him to see you before he is hanged.”
“Who is the executioner?” asked Sidney.
“Major Stark,” answered General Pfaff. “Why?”
“I have an idea that will solve this dilemma,” grinned the merchant. “If I might talk to Major Stark before the execution, I think the queen’s wish can be granted safely.”
“I will take you to him immediately,” offered General Pfaff.
The two men left the office. Clint and Queen Romani talked for a half hour about the state of the War in Zara until both of them were up to date with the latest developments. As they finished up, the two men returned. Sidney handed the queen a hooded cloak and helped her into it.
“We have little time,” announced Sidney. “I have reserved a very prominent viewing location, but I do not know if the men stationed there can hold it against the growing crowd. Let’s go.”
Sidney reached towards the queen and pulled the hood forward, concealing her face. The group of five descended the steps and left the warehouse. They walked to the Royal Palace and merged with the thousands of people waiting to see the hanging.
The hanging was to take place on the lawn of the Royal Palace, and the gates were uncharacteristically wide open for all to enter. Not twenty paces from the gallows was a square stone platform that rose one pace above the lawn. It had been the base of a statue of King Daramoor, but someone had vandalized the statue, knocking it off the stone base. The statue had been carried away, but the platform remained. Standing on the platform were six caravan warriors who worked at Sidney’s warehouse. As the queen’s group approached the platform, some soldiers were trying to dislodge the caravan warriors to get the prime viewing spot for themselves. General Forshire stepped forward and cleared his throat. The soldiers immediately faded away. When the caravan warriors recognized Sidney Mercado, they immediately stepped down, allowing Sidney and his group access to the platform. Sidney helped the queen get up on the platform. General Forshire and General Pfaff followed and then moved to stand directly in front of the queen. She did not complain.
The generals standing in front of a woman caused some in the crowd to whisper and point, but their interest was short-lived. Within minutes of the queen’s arrival, horns announced the beginning of the event. Everyone’s attention turned to the doors of the Royal Palace as King Daramoor was led out of the building. Major Stark climbed the steps of the gallows and waited. As the king was led up the steps of the gallows, many in the crowd began booing. Daramoor paused, his eyes running over the crowd. He glared at those booing and then returned his attention to the steps. When he reached the top of the steps, two soldiers led him to the rope and Major Stark placed the noose over his head and adjusted it. The major than moved to his position at the lever.
Daramoor sighed deeply as his eyes scanned the crowd of ungrateful peons before him, looking for at least one friendly face. That was when his eyes landed on the two general standing on a platform. As he stared at General Forshire and General Pfaff, they each moved slightly to opposite sides. When they moved apart, the king saw a hooded form in between them. The woman stepped forward to stand between the two generals and then she raised her hands and lowered her hood. Daramoor gasped as he recognized Queen Romani. As he stared in disbelief at the queen, she reached out and took the hand of General Pfaff. She also reached out with her other hand and took the hand of General Forshire. She smiled broadly at Daramoor. It was in that instant that everything became clear to Daramoor. He understood that Pfaff was the queen’s man and that he always had been. It was also clear that General Forshire, whoever he really was, had manipulated Daramoor into his present circumstance. Daramoor’s hands curled into fists and a raging scream of anguish ripped from his throat. At that instant, Major Stark pulled the lever. Whatever words were about to follow Daramoor’s scream never had a chance to be heard. The trapdoor fell open and Daramoor dropped to the end of the rope’s extent. The crowd cheered wildly, and Queen Romani pulled her hood forward so that General Pfaff could get her into the Royal Palace without too many questions being asked.
Major Stark addressed the people present for the hanging. He told them to remain where they were because the Royal Palace had an important announcement to make. Minutes later, Queen Romani, General Pfaff, and General Forshire appeared on a balcony. The queen announced that the illegitimate reign of Daramoor was over and that she would be assuming the throne. She also announced that Vinafor was withdrawing from the Federation. She welcomed the men of the 31st Corps to join the Vinaforan army, settle as free citizens, or leave in peace, whichever they desired. She announced that General Pfaff would remain as the Commanding General of Vinafor. When she was done, General Forshire stepped forward and declared that as the Imperial General of the Federation, he was accepting Vinafor’s decision to withdraw from the Federation. He officially dissolved the 31st Corps and warned the soldiers that they were now guests in a foreign land, and that proper behavior was expected of them.
Chapter 25
News Travels Fast
Lord Kommoron glared at the messenger. The soldier shuddered, but he remained silent, hoping that the noble would wait for him to leave and then take out his wrath on one of the servants. He cast h
is eyes down at the floor so that he was not forced to make eye contact with the angry lord.
“Tell your master that I will be there shortly,” snapped Lord Kommoron.
The messenger nodded exaggeratedly and quickly left the room. Lord Kommoron did not notice the messenger’s anxiety. Indeed, the messenger had already been dismissed from his mind. His thoughts now were focused on Emperor Jaar, or rather on Zycara, the black-cloak using magic to impersonate the emperor. The lord had been very specific to both the emperor and Grand General Kyrga that he was not supposed to be contacted at home. While the private security force guarding the Sanctum was not supposed to record the comings and goings of the residents, everyone kept an eye on everyone else. Messengers from the Imperial Palace were always noticed, and Lord Kommoron had been having too many of them recently. As he called for his carriage to be made ready, the noble thought about moving into his mansion in the city until the current crisis was over. The problem with doing so was security. In the Sanctum he was extremely well protected. Such a level of protection could not be had in the city. When it was announced that his carriage was waiting for him, Lord Kommoron pushed the thoughts from his mind and left his mansion for the ride to the Imperial Palace.
When the noble arrived at the Imperial Palace he went directly to the emperor’s office. There were two other men already present when he entered the room, and he looked at one of them curiously. He had only met the leader of the black-cloaks a few times, but Feragyna was not someone who was easily forgotten. The head mage’s left arm dangled uselessly by his side. Lord Kommoron raised an eyebrow, but did not mention the deformity. He took a seat in front of the emperor’s desk and waited to hear the urgent news.
“I apologize for disturbing you at home,” Emperor Jaar started out, “but there are developments that you must be informed of.”
“Urgent enough to disregard my directives?” scowled Lord Kommoron.
“Yes,” Emperor Jaar answered calmly. “We will start with the Black Citadel. Feragyna?”
“One of my men brought urgent news from the north,” Feragyna stated. “The horse countries have assembled a large army, and they are marching off to war.”
“Marching to war?” echoed the lord. “Where? How?”
Feragyna ignored the interruption and continued, “In addition to the twenty thousand lancers that he saw, there were three thousand Red Swords led by King Arik. My man thought that they were heading for the Forest of Death. He also postulated that the boy king is said to be favored by the gods. He worried that perhaps the army would have some kind of protection from the Forest of Death.”
“Inconceivable,” Lord Kommoron shook his head. “The gods are not capable of offering any protection to those seeking a way through the Forest of Death. I am sure about that. If King Arik attempts to get his army through the Forest of Death, he will merely eliminate a potential threat to us. What does all of this have to do with the Black Citadel?”
“When my man reported this news, I ordered him to carry it here,” answered Feragyna. “He was killed by an arrow while attempting to leave the Black Citadel. Attempts by others to carry the message also resulted in death. In the end, I chose to bring the news personally. As you can see, I have suffered from my devotion to your cause.”
“I thought the Black Citadel was impregnable?” frowned the lord.
“No magic or military might could enter the Black Citadel,” declared Feragyna, “but these archers made no such attempt. They managed somehow to scale the face of the mountain to a nest above the opening to the Black Citadel. I would not have thought such a feat was possible, but apparently it is. Their goal was to stop my black-cloaks from leaving, and they were fairly successful at that. I alone managed to get free of their arrows, and that feat was not without cost.”
“As I was telling Feragyna while we waited for your arrival,” Emperor Jaar interjected, “the Black Citadel no longer exists. I sent one of Feragyna’s people there to discover what was going on in Karamin. He returned with the news that the Black Citadel is buried under the mountain.”
“Such a feat would require a massive amount of magical energy,” stated Feragyna. “I cannot imagine such a force, but it is now obvious that the archers were present to make sure that all of the Black-Cloaks died in the attack. I know of no magical force in all of Zara that could accomplish such a feat.”
“And you think that this is more proof of Alceans in Zara?” asked Lord Kommoron.
Feragyna sighed. “I find it hard to fathom such power from any human mage, but the destruction of the shipyards in Giza was the result of great power. Perhaps if there were several dozen such mages from Alcea…” Feragyna shook his head as if such a thought was unbelievable. “I do not have an answer to your question, Lord Kommoron.”
“The Alceans are here in Zara,” stated Grand General Kyrga. “We have had messages from both Karamin and Vinafor. Both of them have withdrawn from the Federation. King Boric now rules Karamin, and Queen Romani has returned to the throne in Vinafor.”
“What?” shouted the noble.
“We received birds from both Calusa and Waxhaw,” corroborated the emperor. “In addition to declaring their independence, they also spoke of King Arik’s victories in Alcea. Worse, the messages indicated that duplicate messages were being sent to every nation of the Federation.”
“Our allies will now know of our weakness,” declared Grand General Kyrga.
“It is time for the next step in your plan,” Emperor Jaar said to Lord Kommoron.
The noble’s head snapped up and he stared at the emperor for a moment. He glanced at the other two men in the room, and shook his head.
“Feragyna,” asked the noble, “don’t your people have any healing skills?”
“They do,” answered the mage, “but I felt it important to carry this news first. I will have my arm tended to after this meeting.”
“Do it now,” ordered Lord Kommoron. “I may have need of you later, and I want you in good health.”
Feragyna frowned, but he nodded. He knew a dismissal when he heard one, and that made him curious about what it was that he was not supposed to know. The occupants of the room remained silent until the mage had left the room.
“My plans are not to be discussed in public,” snapped the noble. “Why did Feragyna not heal himself?”
“He is incapable of it,” shrugged the emperor. “While his power is impressive, he has devoted all of his learning to other areas. Healing was never one of his paths. As to speaking about your plans, Feragyna must already be aware of them. The Badgers did, after all, house the captives in the Black Citadel.”
“Are you sure of this?” the lord asked with surprise.
“I am sure,” the emperor frowned, wondering if he had just shared information that he should not have shared.
Emperor Jaar saw Grand General Kyrga staring at him with an expression of confusion. The emperor wondered what he had said that would cause such a look. It was not so much that the captives had been held in the Black Citadel, he reasoned. It was that the emperor had used the word captives without emotion. It suddenly occurred to him that Kyrga did not know that the real emperor was dead. Lord Kommoron must not have shared that information with the Grand General. In fact, Zycara was willing to bet that Lord Kommoron had not shared it with anyone. If that were the case, it opened up all sorts of possibilities for Zycara. Perhaps it was time for Lord Kommoron to be discovered.
“Why not let it slip out that my wife and daughters have been found dead?” suggested Emperor Jaar. “I am sure that the Grand General knows of ways to let such information slip from his grasp.”
Lord Kommoron shook his head, as if coming out of some deep thought. He looked quizzically at the emperor and nodded. “That can’t hurt at this stage of the game. Go and see to that, Kyrga.”
Dismissed from the conversation, the Grand General left the room. As soon as he was gone, Lord Kommoron turned on the emperor.
“Why was I no
t informed about the involvement of the Black Citadel?” he asked.
“They were hardly involved,” answered the mage. “The Badgers needed a secure location where they could hide the women. There was no greater security than that afforded by the Black Citadel. That is all there was to it.”
“That is all?” retorted the noble. “That allowed hundreds of people to know what I was doing.”
“Not true,” answered the emperor. “While some might have known that the emperor’s family was there, they had no idea that you were involved. Feragyna kept such information to himself. The only way that I was able to piece it together is that you needed my services here. Otherwise I would still be in the dark.”
“Or dead,” the noble pointed out. “The attack on the Black Citadel has silenced a great number of mouths. Why are you anxious to announce the death of your kin?”
“To bring the heir out of hiding,” answered Emperor Jaar. “Whoever holds the women now, they are not anxious for anyone to know that they are still alive. That allows us to declare them dead. I feel confident that such news will bring the heir to my chambers. When he arrives, you will have the throne that you covet.”
“Alcea has still not been conquered,” frowned Lord Kommoron. “Worse, the Federation is falling apart. This is not how it was supposed to be.”
“Two backwater countries on the other side of the Barrier is not something to get upset about,” replied the emperor. “We can reclaim them easily enough. General Tauman is already on his way to Waxhaw. Things might be set right within a few weeks.”
* * * *
The four demons stood around the blood-stained altar in the Forest of Death. Behind the altar, the lake of lava bubbled and simmered.
Alutar: The Great Demon Page 31