Aakuta: the Dark Mage

by Richard S. Tuttle

  “You have given me much to dwell upon,” Lord Chenowith said formally. “I am afraid that I must think upon your request for some time before I can properly answer you.”

  “I understand,” nodded the Emperor as he reached into his desk drawer and retrieved a locked metal box. “Take this with you to the home of the Walkan clan. It contains some of my historical research. Perhaps when I step down as Emperor, I will wish to review it.”

  “The only way you would step down is if you are too feeble to eat,” smiled Lord Chenowith, “but I will do as you ask. Your room at the estate has been preserved, as it will be for all time.”

  “You are a fine son, Chenowith, smiled the Emperor. “I could not have asked for more than what I have received in you. May your sons turn out half as good as you have. Tell the door guards when you leave that I am retiring for the evening.”

  Lord Chenowith nodded and bowed to the Emperor. He exited the Emperor’s office and delivered the message before heading for the staircase.

  “You heard Lord Chenowith,” smiled one of the Imperial guards as he addressed the other guard. “You are on your own now. I am off for some food and a night on the town.”

  “Don’t drink all the ale,” quipped the guard that had to remain on duty.

  The off-duty guard laughed and waved as he walked towards the stairs. He walked down one flight and stood for a moment as his eyes scanned the empty corridors. Satisfied that he was not being watched, the soldier moved softly to a suite that was reserved for Imperial guests. He opened the door and slipped into the dark room. He stole silently across the room and sat in a large leather chair next to the empty fireplace. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes as he drifted into a light sleep.

  Hours later the Imperial soldier woke up. He stood and stretched and then walked to the doors to the balcony. He quietly opened the doors and stared up at the sky to determine that he had slept for about four hours. Nodding to himself, the soldier slid on a pair of gloves. He walked onto the balcony and gazed across the façade of the Imperial Palace to see if anyone else was using a balcony. Seeing no other people, the soldier moved to the railing and gazed downward. The gardens were empty and the great field beyond was empty of soldiers. He had not expected to see any soldiers as no lords were in residence at the moment.

  With an inward smile, the soldier turned to face the building. He eased himself to the far right-hand side of the balcony as his gloved hand reached over the railing and into the dark corner formed by the balcony meeting the façade of the palace. His hand wrapped around the rope hanging there and he held onto it as he lifted his legs over the railing. He grabbed the rope with both hands and started pulling himself upward. Within a few moments, the Imperial soldier was standing on the Emperor’s balcony.

  He opened his pack and extracted a sheathed knife. He carefully removed the knife from the sheath, being careful not to rub the blade against the leather. His eyes squinted as he tried to examine the blade in the darkness. He finally shrugged, content that the poison would not have worn off in the sheath. The soldier tried the doors to the Emperor’s bedroom and found them locked. He removed one glove and ran his fingers along the seam of the twin doors. He grinned as he felt the thin wire. With a slow deliberate upward motion, the soldier pulled on the wire until he heard the click of the door unlocking.

  The Imperial soldier released the wire and put his glove back on. He eased the doors open and stepped into the Emperor’s bedroom. With a malicious grin, the assassin stepped next to the bed and plunged the poisoned knife into the Emperor’s throat. Emperor Bagora’s eyes flashed open to stare at his assassin. His mouth opened to scream, but he could not. As his hand frantically sought the hanging cord that would summon help, the Emperor died.

  Chapter 25

  Provocation

  Lord Marak sat astride his horse atop a large hill on the Balomar estate. The men of Botal’s squad formed a protective ring around the Torak lord as Botal, Halman, and Gunta joined Lord Marak in watching the battle.

  “Their charge is faltering,” remarked Botal. “After all of the probing that they have done, I would not expect that.”

  “It is neither the terrain nor the stiff resistance that is causing their faltering,” responded Lord Marak. “It is confusion. We had wondered if the Glamaraldi spies had discovered the various clans that have assembled here. It is now obvious that they had not.”

  “You mean that they are confused by the uniforms?” questioned Halman.

  “Exactly,” nodded Lord Marak. “They are just now discovering that they are up against more than just the Balomar clan.”

  “The northern group is pulling back,” pointed Gunta.

  Lord Marak turned slightly to look in the direction that Gunta was pointing. He saw the Jiadin warriors, who were dressed as Glamaraldi soldiers, retreating. He slowly scanned the battlefield from the area of the retreat towards the south. About one third of the attackers had turned and fled from the battle, but the other two thirds were still attacking.

  “You have to admire the way the Jiadin use their bows while on horseback,” Lord Marak commented. “They are much better at it than we are.”

  “Much of Khadoran fighting is on foot in forests and estates,” shrugged Botal. “Fakarans fight over the open range. Theirs is not so much a fight for territory as it is one of elimination.”

  “True,” nodded Lord Marak. “I wonder what type of combat the war against the great evil will require? I wish we could learn more about what is to come.”

  “Perhaps we should start training units to fight like the Fakarans do,” suggested Halman.

  “Or have Fakarans fighting by our side,” mused Lord Marak.

  “Tagoro’s group is turning the tide,” Botal said excitedly. “Their center is collapsing. They are retreating.”

  “This was just a probe,” sighed Lord Marak.

  “Just a probe?” echoed Botal. “Five thousand Jiadin charging you is not just a probe.”

  “It is to the Jiadin,” corrected Lord Marak. “The tribes of Fakara did not engage much in all out warfare. If they can crush their opponent in one easy sweep, they will do so. If they cannot, they will probe until they find a weakness. Obviously, the other estates that have fallen so far did not present any challenge to the Jiadin. They had no need to probe. This time it is different.”

  “Their southern flank is breaking off,” noted Halman. “If this is a probe, when will the next one be?”

  “We have no way of knowing,” shrugged Lord Marak. “That is the bad part about defending. We must always be ready for the attack. It could come at any time.”

  “I would prefer attacking,” frowned Gunta. “Let them remain on guard for a while.”

  “I would love to take the fight to them,” smiled Lord Marak, “but not this time. In this battle we get to be the defenders. At least we now have the provocation that we have waited for. Botal, I want an air mage positioned on this hill at all times, night and day. Let’s return to the mansion and prepare for a trip to Khadoratung. Lord Oktar finally has a provocation to present to the Lords’ Council.”

  “I have already taken the liberty,” grinned Botal as he pointed to an air mage riding up the hill. “I knew you would want this hill manned once you saw the view from it. I left a note for an air mage to join us.”

  “Ophia,” nodded Lord Marak as he turned to see the young woman riding up the hill. “She will do fine.”

  “Lord Marak,” greeted Ophia. “I have been looking all over for you since dawn. Your note was not discovered until just recently.”

  “Why are you searching for me?” Lord Marak asked with concern in his voice.

  “We have had messages from everywhere this morning,” explained the mage. “Latril sent one from the Neju estate. She says the Emperor has been assassinated. Kaylee from the Nordon estate says the same, but adds that you must travel swiftly to Khadoratung. The Lords’ Council is to meet to choose a new Emperor. Lord Marshal Yenga asked for
a report of the conditions here. He wants to talk to as soon as practical.”

  “Our journey to Khadoratung must be swift,” Lord Marak said softly as the impact of the news caused him to press his lips tightly together. “Botal, your squad will be my escort. Ophia, I want you to arrange fresh horses for us along the way. We will be riding nonstop to Khadoratung.”

  * * *

  Lord Patel rode through the streets of Khadoratung on his way to the Imperial Palace. Bells all over the city were ringing mournfully as they announced the death of the Emperor. The lord of the Nordon clan watched the people moving about the city. There was sadness in their faces. Emperor Bagora had been well liked by the people. Lord Patel had to admit that Bagora had ruled in an even-handed and fair manner. He had never favored one clan over another, and he always seemed able to diffuse tensions when they arose. Lord Patel sighed heavily as the Imperial Palace came into view.

  The thought that kept intruding into Lord Patel’s mind was the message that he had received before the sun had arisen. It had clearly stated that Emperor Bagora had been assassinated, but there had been no mention of catching the assassin. Lord Patel could not imagine how an assassin could escape when the Imperial Palace was empty. It was possible during the days of the Assembly of Lords due to the fact that thousands of people were milling about in the palace, but now the palace should be fairly empty. One would expect the assassin to stand out easily. The implications of an escape troubled the Nordon lord. He could think of only one way that the assassin could defy recognition, and that was that he had to belong in the Imperial Palace in the first place. The assassin had to be an Imperial soldier.

  The lectain leading Lord Patel’s escort started shouting commands as the Imperial Palace came into view. He ordered two cortes to proceed to the field behind the palace. The third corte dismounted and handed their horses off to those heading behind the palace. The lectain formed the third corte around Lord Patel and led the way along the path to one of the doors. The Imperial guards manning the door opened it immediately, and the Nordon group entered the palace.

  “One squad with me to the Lords’ Council Chamber,” stated Lord Patel. “The other two squads are to prepare the Nordon quarters for a stay of unknown duration.”

  The lectain caught the attention of the three squad leaders and indicated what their tasks would be. He then turned and led the escort up the stairs to the Lords’ Council Chamber. When they reached the door to the chamber, Lord Kiamesh was standing outside giving directions to his escort.

  “I see you have just arrived as well,” greeted Lord Patel.

  “Just a moment ago,” nodded Lord Kiamesh as the escorts of both lords moved away to the room where escorts waited. “Are you casting your lot with Lord Mirakotto?”

  “You mean for Emperor?” frowned Lord Patel. “Isn’t it little early to be asking such a question? We have not even heard the nominations yet.”

  “Is there any doubt that Lord Mirakotto will nominate himself?” retorted Lord Kiamesh. “Becoming Emperor is the only reason for his existence, at least if you think like him.”

  “I will not vote for anyone before the nominations are made and discussion is held,” declared Lord Patel. “That certainly won’t be today. I know that Lord Marak is far out of the city.”

  “If you and Lord Marak join with me,” Lord Kiamesh said conspiratorially, “we can keep Mirakotto from assuming the throne.”

  “And who then would we vote for?” Lord Patel asked suspiciously. “For you perhaps?”

  “You mistake my motives, Lord Patel,” Kiamesh replied with feigned offense. “I have been the lone voice against Lord Mirakotto in this council. You and Lord Quilo claim to be independent, but you side with Mirakotto more often than not. Woton and Garic were, of course, his ideological slaves. With Woton gone, and Marak on the council, we might actually have a chance of electing a decent Emperor. It does not have to be me, but I would like to be considered. My point is, as long as Woton was here, we would not even have the choice. Mirakotto would automatically claim the throne. Now the vote would be tied with three of us sticking together. We can then discuss the nominees, if you will at least veto Mirakotto.”

  “I will not vote until there has been full discussion,” promised Lord Patel “So, if you are asking if I will vote against a move by Mirakotto to force this issue with him as the only candidate, the answer is yes.”

  “Excellent,” grinned Lord Kiamesh as he opened the door to the chamber for Lord Patel.

  Lord Mirakotto, Lord Quilo, and Lord Garic were already seated at the table. The two late arrivals walked to the table and sat down.

  “As you are all aware,” Lord Mirakotto began, “the Emperor was assassinated last night in his bed. The purpose of this meeting of the Lords’ Council is to appoint a successor. It is my turn to lead the meeting, and I will begin by nominating myself for Emperor.”

  “How convenient,” Lord Kiamesh said under his breath.

  “Lord Mirakotto,” said Lord Patel, “the entire Lords’ Council is not present. Rather than start the proceedings to replace the Emperor, why don’t you enlighten us on how the Emperor was killed, and how the assassin has managed to escape detection.”

  “I see enough members here to accomplish our goals,” retorted Lord Mirakotto. “I was not informed that you thought so highly of Lord Marak that you would seek to delay things.”

  “How I feel about Lord Marak has no bearing on my objection,” countered Lord Patel. “My point is that only five seats are occupied, not six. This council must adjourn until the missing member arrives.”

  “This is why I warned about having members from outside the Imperial Valley,” snarled Lord Mirakotto. “The government cannot afford to wait for a week while our boy lord stumbles his way here from the frontier.”

  “But we must have all members here,” insisted Lord Patel.

  “That is where you are wrong, Patel,” snapped Lord Mirakotto. “The law makes an exception for when a lord is sufficiently far away that his presence is not expected within a reasonable amount of time. If we were discussing a mere border dispute, we could wait a week, but we are not. We are performing our duty to choose a successor to the post of Emperor so that the government of Khadora is not rudderless. This is an urgent matter that cannot wait.”

  “I disagree,” declared Lord Patel. “The more urgent the matter, the more important it is to ensure that all members are seated for the discussion.”

  “Disagree all you wish, Lord Patel,” smirked Lord Mirakotto. “I am running this meeting, and I am going to proceed. Now, if there are no further nominations, I move that the voting has begun. I will vote for myself.”

  “I will not suffer this nonsense,” snapped Lord Patel as he rose. “You may not have to wait for Lord Marak, but you will have to wait for me. I shall not enter this room again until all six members are available. I will not be far away. See if you can get around that rule.”

  Lord Patel stormed out of the room, and Lord Mirakotto shook his head. Lord Kiamesh rose and sighed as he turned and headed for the door.

  “Lord Kiamesh,” Lord Mirakotto said through clenched teeth, “kindly take your seat. There is a vote underway.”

  “The members are not all present, in case you missed Lord Patel walking out,” shrugged Lord Kiamesh. “You must adjourn the meeting,”

  “You are wrong,” smiled Lord Mirakotto. “There is already a vote underway. If a lord leaves the chamber during a vote, he will be marked as having abstained.”

  “What are you talking about?” questioned Lord Kiamesh. “Do you make these rules up?”

  “Hardly,” smirked Lord Mirakotto as he slid an open book across the table. “I do, however, spend time familiarizing myself with the law. Read it for yourself.”

  Lord Kiamesh turned and bent down to read the page of the book. He slammed it shut and slid it powerfully across the table towards Lord Mirakotto.

  “You want my vote?” taunted Lord Kiamesh. “Very well. I
vote for myself.”

  “Alas,” grinned Lord Mirakotto, “you cannot. The time for nomination was before the voting began. You can vote for me, or you can vote for me.”

  “I will vote for you, Mirakotto,” offered Lord Garic.

  “Well, I won’t,” Lord Kiamesh said adamantly as he stormed towards the door. “You will never get my vote. I will abstain.”

  The door slammed shut, and Lord Mirakotto turned to gaze at Lord Quilo.

  “Your vote, Lord Quilo?” prompted Lord Mirakotto.

  “You have made some enemies today, Lord Mirakotto,” frowned Lord Quilo. “You should rethink your posture on this.”

  “I am just finding out who my true friends are,” shrugged Lord Mirakotto. “With two abstentions and one absence, I hardly need your vote, but I would like it.”

  Lord Quilo stared at Lord Mirakotto for a long time. Finally, he nodded his acceptance of the inevitable.

  “You have my vote,” declared Lord Quilo.

  * * *

  The Balomar sentries shouted as they watched the Glamaraldi army approach under a flag of truce. A soldier ran along the long drive from the road to the mansion. He leaped up the stairs and raced into the meeting room where Lord Oktar was talking with Marshal Berman.

  “A Glamaraldi talking party is at the gates,” gasped the soldier. “Should we let them in?”

  “How many in the party?” asked Marshal Berman.

  “A single corte,” reported the soldier.

  “Where is Lord Marak?” asked Lord Oktar.

  “He has not been around all morning,” answered Marshal Berman. “I heard that he was atop the great hill watching the enemy.”

  “Let the talking party in,” decided Lord Oktar. “If there is more than a corte, close the gates quickly. Then find Lord Marak and have him get here immediately.”

  “I will send some men to line the drive,” stated Marshal Berman. “I do not trust the Glamaraldi.”

  “That is wise of you,” agreed Lord Oktar as he rolled up the maps of the estate. “Return right away.”