by Brad Clark
“Of course. If it is only the Ark that he wants, then we can sneak the queen out during the night.”
He stepped forward and embraced Conner. “It was good to see you one last time. Hopefully our paths will cross again.”
Conner released himself from the hug and said, “I am sure of it.” He turned to Glaerion and said, “Let’s get moving, Glaerion.”
But the elf did not reply. He was facing north, towards the White Mountains that were hidden in the distance.
“What is it?” Conner asked, turning to try and see what the elf was looking at. He could see the Taran army massing at the edge of the forest. Their commanders had seen the Karmon army marching out of the city gates, so they were being prepared for another battle. But Glaerion seemed to be looking past the army and past the forest.
Glaerion said, “It is not what I see, but what I feel. The ground shakes as if something large is coming this way. That was not thunder from the skies that we heard.”
Marik turned and looked himself. “I do not feel anything.”
“You do not know how to listen,” Glaerion snapped back. “I do not know what it is, but it is running…wait…no, there are two of them, and they are getting closer.”
***
“I will pay you,” Hargon said, gasping for breath. His legs were not as long as Sergeant Farrus’, so he had to alternate between jogging and walking to keep up with the pace. “More than you will ever need.”
“You are a dead emperor,” Farrus said. “You have nothing I need or want. But I will use you to get all that I need.”
“You cannot take me to the emperor!” Hargon begged. “He will kill me!”
“I do not care,” Farrus replied. He gave a yank on the rope, sending Hargon sprawling onto the ground again.
Farrus let out a long sigh, knowing he would have to pull him back up to his feet. He glanced back out through the trees to see that the Karmons were marching another army out from their main gates. He smiled, knowing that such an army would be no match for the centurions that were waiting for them. Maybe if there were an equal number of mounted Karmon Knights, the battle might go in the Karmon’s favor. But there was no ground force anywhere that could match the centurions on an open battlefield.
His ears perked at a sound in the trees. He turned slowly, not wanting to spook whoever it was that likely had a weapon trained on him. Through the trees, he could see the red surcoats of centurions who had their crossbows up and aimed at them.
“Hail!” Sergeant Farrus called out.
“Stand still!” one of the crossbowmen called out.
Farrus waited while the five-man patrol moved through the underbrush and approached them.
“Who are you?” a centurion asked.
“Sergeant Farrus. Commander of the Iseron garrison.”
The centurion looked him up and down before he said, “We are a long way from Iseron.”
“I have a prisoner to take to the emperor.” Farrus pulled up on the rope. Five crossbows turned and aimed at Hargon, who was still sprawled on the ground.
Hargon pushed himself up and glared at the patrol. “I am Emperor Hargon! You will immediately arrest this man and set me free!”
Farrus laughed. “He is a crazed man.”
Hargon lunged forward, but one of the centurions let his crossbow fire. The bolt stuck into the ground at his feet.
“You dare fire upon the emperor!” Hargon screamed. “You will release me now, or I will have you flayed and hung upon the highest tree?”
“Any of you have a rag to stuff into his mouth?”
With Hargon gagged, the patrol escorted Farrus back to the army’s main camp.
The emperor’s tent was near the edge of the forest in a natural clearing. A hundred centurions stood guard in close proximity, providing the emperor a tight ring of security. The patrol was not allowed to pass through, but once Farrus gave up his weapons, he was ushered to the emperor’s tent.
A high-ranking centurion was pacing just outside the tent. Farrus recognized the general markings on the man’s uniform, but his young face made him wonder if he truly was a general. He looked up as soon as Farrus approached.
“This man claims to have a prisoner for the emperor,” one of Farrus’ escorts declared.
General Mace looked from Farrus to the raggedy looking former emperor. Hargon tried to speak, but the rag that gagged him was tied tightly.
“Who is this?” General Mace demanded.
“He will be of interest to the emperor,” Farrus said.
“The emperor cannot be disturbed,” General Mace said.
“For him,” Farrus said, looking at Hargon. “He will want to be disturbed.”
“Who is he?” the general demanded again. “I will not let you in without knowing who is being taken in to see him.”
Farrus stepped close to General Mace so that he could hear his whisper. “Hargon,” Farrus said.
A flash of surprise crossed the general’s face. He knew enough to not say anything more aloud so that the centurions in earshot wouldn’t hear. If this was indeed the emperor’s brother, Tarcious would surely want to see him.
“Bring him,” General Mace said. He stepped over to the opening of the tent and held the flap open.
Farrus, with a quick tug of the rope, walked through with Hargon in tow. He looked around, as the tent appeared empty. Just as he was about to call out to General Mace, he saw the emperor sprawled on the floor.
“Emperor Tarcious!” Farrus called out.
General Mace rushed in and pushed past Farrus. He dropped to the emperor and rolled him over onto his back. Then he put his ear to Tarcious’ chest to listen for the thump of his heart. He could feel a slight rise of his chest and his heart beat strong.
“He is alive,” General Mace said.
“What is wrong with him?” Farrus asked.
The general stood up and took a step back. “I do not know,” he said. He looked to Hargon and then walked over to him and pulled out his gag. “What is wrong with him!”
Hargon glared at the general and said, “How should I know?”
“Are you truly Emperor Hargon?”
Hargon did not respond. He looked at his brother, feeling the life slipping away from him. Whatever happened, Tarcious would soon be dead. A smile fell across his face as he realized that all their problems would soon be resolved. With Tarcious dead, there would be no reason to hide the Ark. He could also return back to his empire and reclaim his throne.
With as firm of a voice as he could muster, he said, “Of course I am. I am the true emperor of Taran, ruler of the greatest empire the world has ever known! Now release me!”
“While Emperor Tarcious still breaths, he is emperor,” General Mace said.
“He is dying,” Hargon said. “I can feel his life slipping away.”
“Can you save him?” General Mace asked.
Hargon let out a burst of laughter. “If I could, why would I. He is an evil creature that tried to kill me. I can barely think of him as a man, much less as my brother. If he dies, the world will be a better place.”
Tarcious lifted a hand and let out a groan.
General Mace dropped down to his knees at the emperor’s side. Then he leaned close and could see the emperor’s eyes open just a little. In a soft voice, he asked, “Emperor Tarcious. Are you okay?”
Another groan came out of him. General Mace leaned closer and asked, “Your Imperial Majesty, what is it?”
“My brother,” Tarcious croaked out. “I heard his voice.”
“Yes, Emperor Tarcious, he is here. Alive. I have brought him to you.”
Tarcious smiled. “You shall be rewarded, then. But I am dying. I can feel my life drain away. It was too strong from me. The power was too much.”
General Mace looked up at Hargon. “You may have your wish. Your brother is dying.”
“Good riddance.”
Tarcious mumbled some more words. General Mace dipped his head back to hi
s lips to hear them.
To Hargon, the general said, “He wishes you to come close. To say good bye.”
“I bet he does,” Hargon replied with a sneer. He looked closely at his brother, who was stiff as a board. Tarcious’ breathing was shallow, and Hargon could no longer see his chest rise and fall. With his life clearly leaving him, what harm could there be to allowing his brother to say his good-byes. Maybe it would be enough to allow him to die with a clear conscience.
“Fine,” Hargon replied. He held up his bound wrists.
General Mace pulled out a small dagger and cut the rope that bound Hargon’s hands.
Hargon stepped forward and kneeled next to his brother. Tarcious turned his head towards him and a slight smile appeared. For a moment, Hargon did not see the brother who had poisoned him and tried to kill him. He saw the young brother who had played with him and had laughed with him. Every good time they had together flashed through his memory. Unfortunately, there were not many of them. But there were enough to remind him that there was still some good in him. Maybe he would die with that goodness showing through.
Tarcious mumbled some words, but Hargon could not hear him. So he leaned forward so that his ear was right next to Tarcious’ mouth.
“Brother,” Tarcious whispered. “I am sorry. I am dying.”
“I know,” Hargon said. He felt Tarcious move and bring his arm around his back, as if he were going to hug him. Instead, a surprising strong grasp took a handful of hair and held him down. A sharp pain stung him on his side. Hargon flinched, trying to pull away, but the sting in his side became sharper and he felt a warm trickle down his side.
“I am dying,” Tarcious said in a stronger voice, but still a whisper. “You will heal me, or we will both die.”
Hargon hesitated and then he felt the dagger go deeper into his side. The warm sensation became a steady flow. As he could feel the life slowly drain from his brother, he could feel life slowly drain from himself.
If Hargon had an ounce of true courage, he would have let the dagger continue to spill his life out onto the cold ground. But a life-preservation mode kicked in that had been bred into him through a lifetime of comfort and ease. He simply could not allow himself to die.
Touching him now, Hargon could sense that it was not death from a wound, or even natural causes that was killing him. Something had literally drained the life out of him and it needed to be replaced. With eyes closed, he concentrated on bringing the life force of the world around him into both himself and Hargon. With each passing moment, he could feel his strength draining and wondered if he were strong enough to heal both of them. Just when he thought he could no longer hold on, the sharp pain left his side and Tarcious released his grip.
Emperor Tarcious took in a deep breath and let out a long sigh.
“Much better,” he said. He sat up, pushing Hargon off of him and onto the ground. “Bind him.”
General Mace did not move and looked from one emperor to another.
Tarcious lifted a hand and a yellow ball of fire appeared in his palm. “I do not understand why the commands of an emperor cannot be responded to the first time! Now, bind him!”
General Mace motioned to Farrus. “Tie him back up.”
“And his mouth, too,” Tarcious added.
Sergeant Farrus, still unsure what exactly had just happened, quickly obeyed and retied Hargon’s hands and put the gag back in his mouth.
“Your loyalty will be rewarded,” Tarcious said with a smile.
“I am loyal to the Emperor of Taran,” Farrus said, dropping to a knee. “The true emperor, Emperor Tarcious. I am at your service.”
Tarcious looked from the centurion who was kneeling before him to General Mace, who had a very perplexed look on his face. To them both, he said, “My brother Hargon is dead, assassinated by a faction of disloyal subjects who will be rooted out in time. This man here is a slave who shall not leave my side. He will remain bound and gagged until I need his services again. Is that understood?”
“Yes, Your Imperial Majesty,” Farrus and General Mace said in unison.
Tarcious took in another deep breath and out a long exhale. He was not sure if he had been truly dying. Likely not. If the spell had been too overwhelming for him, he surely would have died instantly in the most painful of ways. The slow death he felt was simply the fact that he had used up everything that he had and it was going to take some time for his body to recover. But now that he had found a way to quickly rejuvenate his power, there might be no end to the spells that he could cast. With his brother at his side, he would surely be able to conquer the world.
He wanted to laugh out loud, but he only smiled. He turned to Farrus and asked, “You brought this man to me? What is your name?”
“Farrus, Your Imperial Majesty. Sergeant Farrus.”
“You will be sergeant no more. You will now be Commander Farrus.” He took the time to give Farrus a long look. “Do I know you? Your face seems familiar.”
“My father, Terrius, served your father as the head of the palace centurions. For a time, I was a playmate of your brother’s.”
Tarcious scratched his chin. “Interesting. I do not recognize your name, but your face does seem familiar.”
“We were young, then. And you were a small child.”
General Mace cleared his throat, interrupting the reunion of childhood playmates. “An army of soldiers and civilians marches from the city. Our centurions are ready to meet them upon the battle field.”
Tarcious raised an eyebrow. “They did not learn from their first defeat?”
“They are only delaying the inevitable,” General Mace said. “I have pulled several companies off the field to start the construction of more siege engines. We will have three more catapults ready in no more than two days.”
“That will not be necessary.” Tarcious closed his eyes, feeling the presence of the creatures still in his mind. He wasn’t sure how to communicate with them, so he simply thought of the city walls and imagined them crushing them with their hands. “Prepare all the centurions to march as soon as the walls are breached.”
General Mace wondered what craziness had come over the emperor. With a cautious tone, he said, “Your Imperial Majesty, the walls are still standing.”
“Not for long,” Tarcious said, smiling.
***
Farrus opened the flap to his new tent. It was no larger than any of the of the others, but instead of sleeping four to six centurions, he had the entire tent to himself. He had no possessions, but his new rank of Commander allowed him to procure two wool blankets that should keep him warm through the night.
The tent was too short for him to stand up straight, making him hunch over as he stepped in. The ground was still hard and cold, which was much better than being muddy and cold. Although springtime brought with it warmth, it also brought rain and mud. He wasn’t sure which he hated more: the cold or mud. He tossed his blankets onto the ground and spread them out. One he would sleep on and the other would cover him.
He would miss the warmth of his garrison bunk, but when this war was over, his new rank of Commander would give him many privileges that a sergeant would never be able to experience. Instead of being the second-in-command, he would finally be able to be the commander of a garrison. Hopefully he could take over the Iseron garrison and put that Mayor Paulson in his place.
In the meantime, General Mace had given him command of the centurion guards who were posted around the command tent. It would be his responsibility to ensure the safety of both the general and the emperor, which was a much better prospect than commanding a company of infantry. Although he did not fear combat, he knew that death and injury came too easy in a pitched battle. The seemingly randomness of death when immersed in the chaos of a melee was something that he would like to avoid. Even the best centurion could be felled by a lucky strike from behind. Not to mention, he had served his time in war. It was time for the young centurions to fight the battle, while he prot
ected its leaders.
He dropped onto the blanket, thankful that he could take a moment to sit. Soon, the fighting would begin again, and he would need to be back at the command tent making sure that the general and emperor would be safe. Although he was not happy that Hargon was given mercy and allowed to live, at least he wasn’t let go. Serving at his brother’s side should be more than enough of a punishment. There were still two others out there that needed to be caught and executed. In time, he would interrogate Hargon and find out their names and eventually he would have his justice. But it was entirely possible that he would never get that justice if the two joined up with the Karmon army.
Farrus smiled at that thought. Even if they escaped him, they would not escape the might of the Taran army. He would watch for any prisoner that matched the description of Hargon’s accomplices. If they were found, it would be a quick execution. He did not care anymore about retribution. He just wanted them dead. More than likely, though, they would meet their demise upon the field of battle.
Thoughts of vengeance and revenge quickly left as he reached into his shirt and pulled out the small box that Hargon had left on the forest floor. He could not be sure if the wooden box had been accidentally or intentionally dropped. If Hargon had wanted to leave it in the forest, then whatever was in the box was something that he did not want his brother to see. That meant it was surely valuable.
Holding his breath, he looked over it carefully. The wood was smooth to his touch and virtually unblemished. At first he thought that it might have been recently made because it looked so new. But the corners were unevenly worn as if it had been handled for many years. The top of the box was hinged and a small brass clasp kept it tightly closed. He knew there was something in it as it jiggled around as he gently shook it.
With his heart pounding with excitement, he released the clasp and slowly opened the lid. He let out an audible gasp as he saw the gem inside the box. It was slightly smaller than the box itself, which meant that the gem was likely priceless. Hargon had likely escaped from his bother with the gem hoping that he could use it start a new life. With that gem, he could certainly start, and keep, a pretty comfortable life.