Hedgewick’s grin widened. “I do strive to be a source of information.” He moved aside, holding the door open. “Come in and have a seat. By the way, you can call me Benny.”
Walking past the engineering master, Everson said, “Thank you, sir. Er…Benny.”
Benny closed the door and walked to his sitting area. Morning light from the Atrium streamed through the open curtains and provided ample light. His Ratio Bellicus table was covered with books, the game pieces pushed aside. The man sat in a cushioned chair and gestured for Everson to sit on the sofa. Everson’s mechanical legs whirred, air hissing from them as he bent his knees to sit.
Benny shook his head. “I don’t think my amazement at your augmented legs will ever cease. Discovering how to harness Chaos as a power source was a stroke of genius. I’m envious that I didn’t figure it out myself.”
“Thank you.”
Everson’s heart hummed with pride. Benny Hedgewick was a man he admired, a man respected by many. Recent information regarding Benny’s role in the Battle at the Brink only served to increase Hedgewick’s legendary status in Everson’s mind. That lingering sense of awe also made speaking to the man much more difficult.
Benny leaned back, striking a relaxed pose as he crossed his legs. A smirk remained on his lips as he eyed Everson.
“You came here seeking information. Usually, that means you have questions requiring answers.” Benny gestured toward Everson. “Let’s hear it.”
Everson took a deep breath and considered where to begin. “It appears that we will be unable to avoid a war with the Empire. If we can’t prevent it, I would like to help our side win.”
The man’s eyes narrowed. “While I find that commendable, it’s hardly news. In fact, it’s among the reasons we recruited you.”
“Yeah. I guess.” Everson shrugged. “But having never seen a battle, I don’t know much about what transpires – what elements matter most and what actions might sway victory for one side or the other. Accordingly, I sought more information.”
“Did you go to the academy library?” Benny’s grin reappeared. “You do know that they named it after my ancestor, not after me, right?”
Everson shook his head. “No. Research would take more time than I wanted to commit. For quicker answers, I went to Master Alridge.”
“Yes. Salina was there.” Benny nodded. “She knows a thing or two about what really happened.”
“Exactly. The recorded information surrounding the Battle at the Brink is vague at best.”
“The lack of details is intentional. There is knowledge about what transpired that can be used against us if it were to fall into the wrong hands.”
“Yet, that’s what happened, didn’t it? Some of the knowledge is being used against us.”
The man’s face darkened at Everson’s statement. Benny turned and stared toward the Atrium with his lips pressed together. A long, uncomfortable moment of silence passed before he spoke.
“Karl Jarlish and I were rivals while I was at the academy. His father was famous for inventing the steam engine, so when Karl arrived, he was already well known. Of course, I was young. Jealousy is particularly common before wisdom makes one aware of how ugly it actually is.
“In hindsight, I believe that my envy of the attention Karl received worked in my favor. It fueled my ambition. If I wanted to become the greatest inventor of my time, then my creations needed to surpass anything Karl attempted. There is a chance that the Hedgewick Flyer might have never existed if not for my rivalry with Karl.”
A wistful expression remained on Benny’s face as he stared into space. He then shook his head as if to clear away cobwebs of stray thoughts and resumed his tale.
“Certain events led to my leaving the school during my second year. That journey was filled with adventure and discovery, marred by the death of a friend. Yet, events of the wider world changed my perspective as a new enemy arose. With my mind focused on saving mankind from annihilation, I returned to the Academy.
“At the time, The Horde was tearing the east coast to shreds and would soon turn west. I witnessed the aftermath of what they had done to Sol Polis. Even now, approaching twenty years later, those horrific images remain fixed in my memory and often resurface in nightmares. A small group of us, led by King Brock, scrambled to gather the best force we could manage to stop this horde of monsters. Our army was drastically outnumbered, and we couldn’t even comprehend what we were to face. Perhaps that was for the best. If we had known, we may have abandoned the plan.”
Hedgewick ran his hand through his hair, as if he were weary.
“When I came back to the school, I sought to turn my discovery of flash powder into a weapon. Karl and I set our rivalry aside, and he became my partner. Together, we crafted the very first flash bombs – small glass canisters with a brass cap. On impact, the cap would compress and cause the trigger to strike a flint, which created a spark and ignited the powder in the jar. The result was quite impressive. Without a doubt, the flash bombs helped us win the battle. Mankind survived, but, sometimes, mankind is its own worst enemy.”
Benny’s focus shifted back to Everson, their eyes meeting. “Afterward, Karl and I drifted apart. My inventions spurred my career, while his languished. Within a few years, he moved from Fallbrandt, and I never heard from him again. That is, until his name resurfaced in Quinn’s report.”
Everson nodded. “He’s the inventor who now works for the Empire.”
“It appears so.” Benny leaned forward. “You should know that he has access to more flash powder than we had back then, more than anyone in recorded history.”
“How do you know this?”
“About six years ago, there was a prison break. Many people escaped. This was not a typical prison. It also happened to be the richest gold mine in all of Issalia.”
Everson’s face pinched. “Gold? It’s too soft. What can you make from gold other than jewelry?”
Benny shook his head. “You misunderstand. It’s not what you can make from gold, but what you can buy with it. People. Loyalty. Land. Power.
“In addition, the very same mine was our primary source for flash powder.”
Everson leaned forward. “Wait. Are you saying that the same people who currently lead the Empire were prisoners?”
“Yes.”
“And when they escaped, they acquired the gold and flash powder stored at these mines?”
“Yes.”
“How much?”
“Gold?” Benny shrugged. “I don’t know. Enough to make a difference, I assure you.”
“What about the flash powder?”
“Records from the mine state that numerous barrels of flash powder had been stocked there. Twenty-four barrels to be exact.”
Everson’s eyes grew wide. “They took all of it?”
“I’m afraid so.”
Everson sat back and considered the revelation. His mind spun it about and examined it from numerous angles. “You mentioned the mine as a source for flash powder. Can we get more there?”
Benny shook his head. “It appears that all flashstone veins have been mined from that location, but it doesn’t leave us without hope. I happen to know of an old, forgotten quarry near Selbin with a vein or two. Anticipating the need, I sent a team there last week to gather what they could. When they return, we shall see what they found.”
Something in the back of Everson’s mind stirred, a question itching for an answer. “I suspect that most prison escapees would rather do their best to blend in with society, happy to be free while doing what they could to avoid a return to such dire straits. Yet, not only did these people not blend in, they overthrew Vinacci, Kalimar, and half of Hurnsdom. Those kingdoms now form an Empire that can challenge the rest of Issalia.”
“Who are these people? How are they so resourceful? Despite the advantages of gold and flash powder, it takes far more than money and weapons to achieve such power. It requires experienced leaders.”
Benny�
�s eyes shifted to stare at the Ratio Bellicus table. “Yes. There is more to the tale than prison escapees and flash bombs.”
His head tilted up to lock eyes with Everson. Inside them was a seriousness that seemed rare from this light-hearted, kind man. In Benny’s gaze, Everson saw a dread that made him shiver.
“You see, the leaders of this new Empire were once masters at the Fallbrandt Academy of Magic and Science. Even back then, they served another purpose – one with a hidden agenda. Under that old regime, before the kingdoms of Issalia were reformed, these men and women were the leaders of a secret organization within the Ministry, a group known as The Hand. They are extremists whose ideals guide them without pause. As proven by their actions, they will go to extreme measures to ensure a solitary outcome: the end of Chaos.
“Driven by this objective, I fear for what the future holds should they prove victorious.”
14
Spuretti
A cool ocean breeze balanced the afternoon heat, the cliff edge looming above Chuli partially blocking the sun. She longed for the shadows to shift toward her and provide relief. Even sitting among a pile of boulders, she felt exposed by the sunlight.
A snore arose from Gillup, the soldier still asleep. Chuli envied the man’s ability to sleep sitting upright…in direct sunlight, nonetheless. Her attempt at sleeping the night prior had produced little success and a grogginess lingered. A sigh slipped out as she rose to her feet and peered down the road.
Of course, the road remained empty. From her position, she had a clear eastern view for a half mile before the road rounded a bend. The steep hillside of a tall plateau created a boundary to the north side of the road while a cliff edge ran along the south side with a frightening drop to the sea. This road was the only path to Hipoint, so the Imperial was forced to take this route. Chuli’s gaze shifted nearer and settled on a track that crossed the gravel road.
When she and Gillup had first arrived at the post, they found two Imperial soldiers, both dead and oblivious to the coyotes nosing around them. Apparently, nobody had come to relieve the men after Chuli and Thiron had foiled their ambush – a confrontation that ended the two men’s lives. It immediately became obvious that the bodies, and the smell, had to be addressed before anything else. They had chased the coyotes off before discussing their options. Holding their breath from the stench, Chuli and Gillup had then performed the unpleasant task of dragging the corpses across the road and dumping them over the cliff edge.
A pair of seabirds circled overhead, their lonely calls joining the distant sound of surf until their flight path took them beyond the line of Chuli’s view. She cast another glance down the road and paused. Something glinted in the distance, metal reflecting sunlight. The relection moved, rounding the bend as a machine appeared.
Chuli turned and tapped Gillup on the shoulder. The man blinked awake, rubbed his eyes, and then ran his fingers down his face and through his thick, brown beard.
“What is it?”
“Look.” She pointed to the east.
The man groaned as he leaned forward, got his feet beneath him, and rose to a crouch beside Chuli. Gillup grunted as a second steam carriage came into view. “Finally.”
While Chuli didn’t relish what was to come, a part of her agreed with him. Two days of lying in wait was long enough.
“See the catapults they are towing?”
He nodded. “They are moving at a slow pace. I bet soldiers come around the corner next.”
Sure enough, the Imperial infantry unit appeared, trailing the two steam carriages.
“We had better go,” Chuli said.
The man nodded, shouldered his bow, quiver, and pack, and began the short descent to the road. Chuli followed with one hand gripping her pack, the other her bowstring. They broke into a jog, heading west while keeping the rocks between them and the approaching army. As they ran, Chuli found herself wondering if Thiron remained unconscious. She had grown used to her mentor’s presence, and it seemed odd not to have him around. She had come to rely on his wisdom.
As they rounded a long, gradual bend, the garrison came into view. A quarter mile from the garrison, she glanced up at the rock wall to the north and saw a rune marking it. At Jonah’s direction, one of the miners had climbed the cliff wall and drawn the symbol with a chunk of coal. Turning to look forward, she found herself approaching a catapult positioned in the middle of the road – the only siege engine stationed at the garrison.
Chuli and Gillup slowed to a walk as they passed the catapult. Just behind the siege engine was a barrier of sharpened stakes, sticking up from the ground at an angle. After a backward glance, Gillup slid between a gap in the stakes with Chuli a step behind. Gillup held his hands to his mouth as he marched toward the garrison.
“Enemy approaching!” he shouted. “They are minutes away.”
The man stopped and turned toward Chuli, both breathing heavily from their run. Chuli looked backward, toward the road that led to the approaching army. It remained empty, nothing in sight save for the lonely catapult, loaded and waiting for use.
The gate opened and Marcella strode out, joined by Rios, Samantha, Jonah, and Torney.
“Report, Gillup,” Marcella said.
“The enemy approaches at a marching pace. They are about a mile away, led by two steam carriages, each towing a catapult. Infantry follow, likely leading the cavalry and the other steam carriages that were reported earlier.”
Marcella turned toward Jonah. “At that pace, they’ll be visible in ten minutes…fifteen at most.”
Jonah nodded. “I’m ready. Be sure to have the catapult manned when I return.”
Without another word, Jonah broke into a run, skirting the catapult as he headed east, away from the garrison.
Marcella turned to Rios. “Send Spuretti out and get the soldiers into position. We have to make a good show of it, or they may not take the bait.”
Rios nodded, turned, and disappeared back into the garrison.
The captain then put her hand on Samantha’s shoulder, the scribe jerking with a start as if she were stabbed. “You are to take my message to King Brock. The ship is yours, and the captain is waiting for you. You may linger and watch the events as they unfold, but do not risk capture nor an attack. If you don’t make it to Kantar, Brock will not be aware of what transpired here.”
Samantha nodded firmly, but Chuli noted the nervousness in the young woman’s eyes. “Yes, Captain. I will not let you down.” She began her walk toward the city, stopped, and looked back. “May Issal be with you.” She then scurried off, toward the steps that led down to the docks. There, a single ship waited since the rest had departed during the evacuation.
“While that girl drives me crazy with her endless writing, I’ll miss her. Maybe she will make me famous someday.” Marcella’s voice carried a wistful tone that seemed much out of character. She then turned toward Chuli. “Your friend remains unconscious. We have him strapped to your horse, as we agreed. I have assigned three others to take your mounts, including the medicus. They were instructed to leave when the enemy was sighted.”
Chuli nodded. “Thank you, Captain.”
Marcella stared down the road with her eyes narrowed. “I hope your friend knows what he’s doing. If this doesn’t work, we won’t have time to evacuate.”
Turning, Chuli followed Marcella’s gaze and spotted Jonah eight hundred feet beyond the catapult. The rune scrawled on the cliffside flared red, pulsed and faded. Jonah spun about and began jogging back.
The garrison gates opened wider and soldiers began marching out with Rios in the lead. He spun about and walked backward while shouting orders to the trailing troops.
“Align in ranks twenty across!” He stopped and held his arms out. “Soldiers in front, stop here. We don’t want to get too close to the barrier. Our siege engine will inevitably become a target when they are in range.”
Minutes passed as five hundred soldiers poured from the garrison, shuffled about, and
lined up in twenty separate columns. The clopping of hooves arose as horses rode from the garrison. Hurrying, Chuli jogged between the rows of Kantarian soldiers to meet the riders coming through the gate.
Two soldiers, a man named Meeks and a woman named Jilli, led the group. Thiron followed, strapped to Rhychue, with Medicus Tilbrick bringing up the rear. The horses in the lead stopped while Marcella said some quiet words to the two soldiers. Chuli approached Rhychue and caressed the horse’s neck.
“Take care of him, girl.”
Chuli found herself concerned as she examined the man who had trained her. His eyes remained closed, his face still pale as he slept. The medicus had strapped Thiron to the saddle such that his upper body rested on pillows stuffed between him and the horse’s back.
“If anything bad should happen, return to Mondomi,” she said to her horse.
“Don’t worry,” Tilbrick said. “We will take care of him and meet you tonight at camp.”
“I plan to be there…should the fates allow it.” Chuli could not keep the worry from affecting her words.
Marcella finished her conversation with Meeks and Jilli. Meeks waved his arm forward and kicked his horse into an easy walk. The other three trailed behind, the horses circling the garrison wall before heading west. Chuli found herself wondering if she would ever see them again.
“Here they come!” someone shouted.
When Chuli turned around, she saw distant movement and the gleam of metal at the far end of the road. Her stomach twisted, and her heart fluttered as the reality of what was to come became tangible. She looped around the ranks of soldiers and approached Marcella as Jonah arrived from the other direction.
“It’s done,” Jonah said as he came to a stop.
A short, older soldier named Nick Spuretti stood beside Marcella. With one arm that ended at his elbow and four angry scars that ran down his neck, Spuretti had clearly seen the worst of a battlefield. In contrast to the anxiety Chuli was experiencing, Spuretti appeared calm, focused, despite his task. Captain Marcella put her hand on the man’s shoulder.
An Imperial Gambit (Wardens of Issalia Book 3) Page 12