“Sir! General’s Tolenor and Irius’ men are indeed hearty fighters, but only the empire's rangers can endure such a journey! Take us!” Trevin said, placing his hand over his chest. He was always honored to offer his commander the utmost support he could, despite already knowing his true intentions.
“Gentlemen! Gentlemen! Peace!” Tiberius said, raising his hands to silence them. “While I would gladly take all of your men, it will be me and my two companions who make the journey. We started this quest together, and we will be the ones to see it to its end. Besides, if I know our emperor like I think I do, he will need all of your best men for what is to come.”
“I agree with Commander Tiberius’ wisdom,” the emperor said, standing to dismiss them. “I intend to take the fight to White myself, and it would be best for Tiberius and his companions to continue their journey alone.” He walked to the three companions and motioned for them to exit the tent. “Now, gentlemen, if you will excuse me, I must speak to these three in private before we begin our own planning. I suggest you return to your own men in the meantime and make sure all is in order within your ranks.”
The generals and Trevin bowed as the four departed the tent to discuss their own plans. Michael leaned close to Shayla and whispered, “Why would we not know what the emperor’s plans are?”
“In case we get captured,” Shayla whispered. “Pain and torture can make the strongest of us break, and the emperor will not risk that. If we do not know what their plans are, then the enemy could never know them either.”
Michael marveled at the emperor’s cunning, realizing that he still had much to learn in the ways of war and strategy. He followed as best he could as the emperor directed the three back to their own tent.
Inside he found the dwarves had all assembled. New garments and an assortment of wares for their journey were laid before them. Michael examined all of the items one by one, a growing eagerness forming in his heart.
“I had anticipated Tiberius’ intentions to continue the journey, Mr. Deerborn,” the emperor said with a chuckle. “I knew the minute I saw him take off on the run with his men this morning that his mind and his spirit compelled him to continue on with the quest I had directed you on.”
“Beg your pardon, Your Majesty. But how could you possibly have known that from a run?”
“It’s what I would have done,” the emperor admitted. “He is my son after all. And I know he spoke with the prisoner this morning.”
All eyes turned to the emperor. A wry smile broke his worn and lined face. He pulled up chairs for Catherine and himself and motioned for the others to sit as well. He readjusted the hem of his simple black and tunic and said, “Now, what do you have to tell us, Ti?”
Chapter 29
The Parting of The Ways
Tiberius told his tale in full. From the pre-dawn funeral for the fallen Berserker to his interrogation of the Narzethian wizard. Not a single detail was omitted as he spoke, hoping that the wizard's words and intentions would not be lost on any of them. His companions stared on in astonishment. News that the Narzethians had recovered the Library of Beaumont was most troubling. But that they had learned how to bind themselves to creatures as powerful as the Revenant was most worrying. Despite the news, the emperor and the dwarf Catherine remained expressionless at his tale.
Once he finished, he removed himself from his chair to pour a glass of water. No one spoke for a long time until the emperor finally stood. He leaned against the back of his chair and said in a low voice, “What madness has consumed Forval that he would take up with a Narzeth in his plots?”
“I cannot speak to know King White’s mind, father,” Tiberius said with another sip of water. “I can only tell you what the wizard said. But it all goes to show that White’s mind has been bent to this purpose awhile. The long years of resentment his family has harbored against us have finally taken its toll on him.”
“Indeed. Mage,” the emperor turned to Michael now, “What have you to say? Is it possible the Narzeth have indeed done begun learning magic?”
“Your majesty, I was not there to hear the Narzethian’s words. All I can tell you is what I saw that night in the field. When Bruce destroyed the Revenant, there was only the wizard left in its place.”
“Then why was Shayla unable to kill him once he was exposed?”
Michael shook his head. “I do not know, sir. Perhaps there was still some lingering power within him that kept him protected? I honestly could not tell you how. But I can tell you that if they have excavated the library, then it is most fortunate that magic is hard to touch.”
“Aye. I agree wholeheartedly. I cannot begin to imagine a horde of magic-wielding Narzeth.” The emperor turned to the dwarf seated at his side, “Lady Stonefoot, what counsel can you give?”
Her rock-like face remained blank at his words as she said, “My lord, whatever wisdom I could give would be for naught. You and your son have already chosen your paths, regardless of what I might have to say.”
“Fair enough. What advice then can you give?”
Her familiar motherly smile stretched across her face. Love beamed off of her, comforting everyone in the tent. “My advice to you, Son of Alexander, is to listen to your hearts. Your son is determined to continue north; you are determined to meet this King White in battle. I would advise you to continue these paths. As the young Mage said, the Narzeth cannot touch magic either. Do not worry about them until the time is right.”
“But worry about them, I do. Long have they warred with us. To hear they are abandoning their beliefs tell me they are growing desperate.”
“Father, I agree with Lady Stonefoot,” Tiberius interjected. “They are a threat, of course. From what the wizard had said, his mission was to help White start his insurrection. And in that, he has succeeded. If we are to contend with the Narzeth in the future, we must quell his rebellion first.”
The emperor didn’t speak for some time as he considered everyone’s words. He looked to each of them, searching them over when his eyes fell on Shayla.
“Mistress Rider, what have you to say?”
Her brown eyes met his look. “If I may speak plainly, one soldier to another, all enemies of our country must die.”
The emperor nodded in agreement. Succinct and straight to the point was his best way of talking. “I agree, Dragon Knight. Then we all know what we must do. I suggest you begin packing straight away.”
Michael slowly got to his feet and began looking over his own fresh robes.
“I take it you mean for us to depart at once?” Tiberius said.
“Aye, son. I think it would be best for you and your new companions to depart immediately. With as large of a force that we have mustered here, I do not think any scouts in the open would notice less than twenty people leaving. Especially as long as my banners continue to fly in camp.”
“Less than twenty?” Shayla asked before turning to face Catherine and her dwarves, each of them clad again in their heavy iron armor. “You mean to journey with us to the outpost?”
“Aye, daughter of Kazduhl,” the dwarf woman said. “We follow the will of the Father, and his will compels us to help you in your quest. Oh! And before I forget,” she turned to one of her dwarves, and after speaking in their ancient tongue, three large chests were brought from the back of the room. “A gift for you three before our departure.”
Shayla bent to the ground, carefully opened the chest, and recoiled in excitement. She slowly placed her olive-skinned hands into the trunk and produced a familiar dragon-shaped helm. Instead of the normal green and red helm that she had worn her whole life, this one was deep ebony, with fierce stripes of grey and white running in from the eyes over the top and sides.
Shayla stifled a sob before kneeling next to the dwarf, and bowing her head, said, “Thankee, daughter of Frijigzah.”
"You are welcome, dragon daughter. It is with gladness that I am honored to have made this for you."
Shayla examined the helm. It
was beautiful beyond measure with its deep blacks and intricate white ornamentation. "Lady Stonefoot, if I may be so bold to ask. Can you fashion these for my sisters?"
The dwarf smiled at her and said, "Mychala has one of her own. She will give it to the Imperial smiths in the capital so they may fashion them for your fellow dragoons."
Tears were welling in the corner of the Dragon Knight’s eyes that she forced away. "Thank you, ma'am. Where is my sister?"
"She awaits us on the edge of the camp. She will see us off."
Tiberius and Michael now moved to examine their own chests, each finding armor of their own fashioned in the empire's colors. Each pair was stronger than the most splendid knight's armor and as light as their own leather garments. They, in turn, thanked the dwarves for their generosity before quickly donning their new apparel.
After a few moments, Catherine bowed low to the emperor and bid him good fortune in the war to come.
“But take heart, Son of Luke,” she warned. “Though our paths take us in separate directions, we are bound together. For the real enemy of this evil will only be truly revealed if we both succeed in our endeavors.”
“I agree, Mistress dwarf,” the emperor replied, returning the bow. “Take good care of my boy.”
“Do not worry about him, Your Majesty,” she said with a wry smile. “His friends will do enough protecting on their own. And besides, he is The Spirit of The Warrior.” And with that, she and her dwarves departed the tent for the edge of the woods.
The four stood in silence in the tent for a moment before Shayla directed Michael to follow her out, giving father and son some much needed time alone.
“I am sorry to leave you so soon, father,” Tiberius said at last.
“Ah, it’s okay, Ti. It’s like I said, I would have done the exact same thing if it were me,” the emperor replied. “Besides, I fear Catherine’s words are true. Both of our quests are intertwined more than we think, and I would trust no one to carry out this mission than you and your friends.”
“They have proven to be powerful friends to have indeed,” Tiberius admitted. “Any parting advice?”
“Son, I don’t think you need my advice or counsel anymore. You are more than capable, and one day you will make a fine ruler of our country.”
“Hopefully, not for many years to come,” Tiberius replied with a laugh.
“Hopefully, indeed. Now, I too must get back to the council. I pray thee good fortune in your quest, Ti. The Spirit of The Warrior will always be with you.”
“The Spirit of The Warrior will always be with you too,” Tiberius said before embracing his father.
His mind flashed with memories from long ago of time spent with his father. Running the halls of the rangers’ garrison of Kovaiyemarck. Hunting and tracking in the woods outside of the city. Sparring in the training square outside of the mansions. Memories he was sure to keep in his mind and his heart for the journey ahead. His father had been his rock his entire life. Always there. Always loving and protecting. He was sad to not be with him now when he would need him the most. But his judgment in appointing Trevin in his place was sound. And the wisdom of continuing the quest he knew to be right.
They broke their embrace, and without a word, both departed the tent to rejoin their respective parties. From inside his father's tent, his eyes locked with Trevin's. In all the haste of the day, he had forgotten to say any departing words to him. Yet on his face, Tiberius could see all was forgiven. There would be time enough for their love when this was all over. To say all the things they had wished they could say. For now, they would have to wait just a little longer. Their duty came first, it would always come first, but that was the sacrifice they knew they had to make for loving one another.
From outside the tent, Tiberius offered a solemn nod to his love before turning away. He couldn't bear to see Trevin a second longer. But he would hold his face and the sound of his voice in his mind for all the long days to come.
Tiberius strode through the tents examining the men, all eager and willing to throw themselves into the fight against White’s evil pursuits of power and domination. Some offered bows to him that he gladly returned.
They still see me as a hero, but what they fail to realize is that all of them are heroes. From the lowly squire to the bravest knight. Each and every one of them. Heroes of our country.
A half-hour later, he met his companions and the band of dwarves on the edge of the camp. Ever the worrier, Michael was busying himself with repacking his ruck while Shayla spoke with her dragoon sister.
"I am entrusting you to lead in my stead," Shayla said. "Our homeland is beset by traitorous warmongers. Be brave, sister. And lead well."
Mychala bowed at her leader's words. "I will do my best, sister. We will not abandon our home in its hour of need. I promise."
The two dragoons embraced one another and spoke parting words in their own tongue. After they broke apart, Mychala turned to the Mage and helped him put his heavy pack onto his back.
"Keep her safe, Michael Deerborn. She is more precious to us than you could ever imagine."
Michael blushed and replied, "Begging your pardon, ma'am, but she is very precious to me as well."
Mychala beamed at the Mage's words. "Then please keep yourself safe as well. You too are precious."
Michael's face started to become hotter than before. He quickly bowed low, hoping to hide his change in complexion from the brave and beautiful Dragon Knight. Mychala chuckled, and with a quick bow to Catherine, donned her helm and lept high in the sky.
Michael watched her fly into the sky, bound once in the distance, and then disappear over the horizon.
Till we meet again, Dragoon.
Not wanting to disturb their goodbyes, Tiberius finally stepped forward to join the party. Shayla turned to face him and asked, “Are you ready, sir?”
He turned and beheld the incredible sight of the empires might laid out before him. In the distance, he could see archers sending precise shot after shot at their targets. He looked the other direction and beheld swordsmen and knights clad in their deep black armor, sparring as hard as they could.
Further on, in the woods behind the village, his own rangers were hard at work amongst the trees and giant boulders. He could see Timothy and Zachary issuing instruction and watching every move their men made. He smiled a sly and knowing smile before returning his gaze to his companions.
“Aye. I’m ready,” he replied. And with that, they headed out into the burnt woods, bound for the Ice Steps beyond. No one in their party spoke, each lost in their own thoughts about what would await them on the other side. Tiberius alone walked with a light step and heart. Gone was the fear and worry that had burdened him for so long, now replaced with the excitement and thrill of adventure. He smiled again, held his head high, and strode ahead of his companions, eager to meet whatever fate lie in store beyond the mountains.
Epilogue
Smoke was rising from the burned city below him. His fists were shaking with an uncontrollable rage at the sheer destruction that had been wrought on his city. From atop the Emperor’s Spire, he could see fires continuing to rage in every direction he looked. He looked down at the dead body that lay at his feet. His anger boiled over, and he spat and cursed the dead would-be assassin at his feet.
“Please tell me you have some good news,” he said.
“Reports are still coming in, Your Majesty,” the sorcerer said from somewhere behind him. “The enemy has been driven out of the Imperial City, but…” his voice died in his throat.
“But what?” he barked.
“Over half our forces were wiped out in the battle,” the sorcerer answered solemnly. “We’ve heard no word from the rangers or the dragoons. The Imperial marines have finished pushing out the last of the invaders to the sea. The army has rallied itself in the city center and has begun reinforcing the barricades. But the dead and dying… it is beyond anything we could have ever imagined, Your Majesty.”
“What are you going to do, sire?” the sorcerer asked finally.
He turned to face the sorcerer and, after a moment or two, said, “I’m going to find out who is behind this attack. I am going to root them out wherever they may be hiding. And I’m going to kill them all.”
A Special Preview of Book 2 in The Axton Empire
Lightning cracked the featureless black sky. The ground beneath him shuddered, thrusting him awake. He looked around their camp, eager to see the ranger or dragoon come running to his aid. But the camp was deserted, and no help was coming. The wind that had blown high pitched whistles down the mountain the past few nights was gone now. An unnatural stillness came over the woods, sending a sudden jolt of dread through his body. His eyes darted in all directions, but in the cold dark of night, he could see nothing. He staggered to his feet, scared and unsure of what was happening to him.
Another bolt of lightning snapped overhead, this time louder and brighter than the first. He thrust his hands to his ears out of shock and crouched again to the ground. He felt an odd slushiness under his feet, and the faint aroma of metal and copper came to his nose. The earth shook violently, forcing him to his hands and knees. He felt a strange sticky wetness on the cold dirt that made him furrow his brow in confusion. He knew well enough what it was, for he had felt it himself only a few weeks ago on his own body at the start of this whole ordeal.
He shot upright again just as another bolt of lightning rang out. In the flash of light, he could see dead bodies littered around where he stood. He slowly withdrew his wand from deep within his robes, and with a simple flick of his wrist, a dull light appeared around him. But the sight that met his eyes forced him to recoil and retch in shock.
The Spirit of The Warrior: The Axton Empire book 1 Page 36