Empire of Dirt: (Echoes of Fate: Book 2)

by Philip C. Quaintrell

  From his high vantage however, Galanör could easily spot what he was looking for. About five miles away, the elve’s fine eyes could see smoke rising from the top of the trees. The area around the smoke was surrounded by an unusual concentration of dragons, and big ones at that.

  That’s where they were keeping Malliath.

  Every now and then, Galanör caught sight of flames breaching the canopy, until one of the dragons swooped by and put it out with a breath of ice. It was an incredible sight on its own, since little was mentioned in history about dragons’ breath beyond fire, but Adriel had confirmed that they actually use both ice and fire. It was just another reason to stay on a dragon’s good side.

  Galanör took a breath and steadied his heart. Just thinking about what he was going to do next made his chest feel as if it might burst. It was the only way and he knew it, though. For the second time in his life, Galanör was going to attempt to steal a dragon...

  Adilandra blinked hard in an effort to clear the haze from her sight. The queen of the elves was barely aware of the chains that shackled her wrists together, tying her to the ceiling. Her toes wiggled in search of the floor but could only brush the cold surface. Featureless faces continued to appear from the blurry surroundings and examine her body. All the while she could hear rhythmic music being played in the background, underscoring the laughter and groans of pleasure.

  “You can get closer...” a familiar voice purred from out of sight. “She won’t bite… hard.”

  The wavy features of a stranger’s face came into view before her eyes. The man was heavily tattooed with piercings dotted around his face and bald head. His wide eyes narrowed as he took in all of Adilandra’s body. The elf wanted to recoil when he licked his lips, but found her muscles unresponsive. The stranger’s heavy hand caressed her cheek and ran down her body, taking extra time over her breasts. Was she naked? Adilandra couldn’t tell. The last thing she remembered clearly was being in her cell, deep in the heart of the great pyramid. They must have drugged her food this time; they always found a way.

  “She is my favourite play-thing...” the Goddess came into view like a snake slithering around its prey.

  As the effects of the drugs began to wear off, the elven queen could see the wicked glee that illuminated the Goddess’ face. The wicked ruler of the Darkakin took much pleasure in showing off her prisoner, almost as much pleasure as she took from enjoying the elf in her bed. Those were different and more potent drugs than these, though Adilandra only wished they left her without her memory of participating.

  The Goddess reached out and took a cup of wine from a passing slave. “When my army is finished with wiping out the Illians and the elves, I will march into my ancestors’ lands and show you what’s left of your kind.”

  Adilandra could see them all now. The elf was the centre piece of a party, though most of the guests appeared to be having sex with each other. She had been brought to the central throne chamber, where Ederön had been thrown from the balcony. That seemed like a lifetime ago now. Adilandra wasn’t even sure how long it had been since she saw Galanör and Gideon. This had become her life now. By night she was the personal play-thing of the Goddess and whoever else had the privilege of sharing their queen’s bed. Most days she was forced to fight in the arena, though that was an easy task since the better fighters had been sent along with the armies to Illian. The Darkakin were ever cautious of her enhanced strength and speed however, always drugging her to transport her from place to place.

  The Goddess stepped aside to greet another of her guests and Adilandra saw the green crystal, mounted on a pedestal. There were three more around her, just as they were in the arena and in the Goddess’ chamber. The elven queen had never seen them before her time in the southern lands of Ayda, but she knew what the crystals were here for. When in their presence she couldn’t use magic to help her fight her opponents or even resist the drugs. It was only in the brief moments she had in the bath house, before she was presented to the Goddess at night, when Adilandra could use some of her innate power. As always, the queen used her spells to see through the eyes of Ölli, her daughter’s owl.

  The had almost welcomed the drugs on the night it was revealed that Valanis was free. Reyna and Faylen had been speaking with the ranger she now knew was called Asher, and the Graycoat Nathaniel. Not only had the dark elf been freed of his prison, but he had been free for forty years. Despair had almost crippled Adilandra that night. The only happiness to be found was in the extraordinary relationship forming between her daughter and the human knight.

  “Excellent!” the Goddess exclaimed, after speaking to one of her soldiers. “Overlord Kett sends word of their progress!” The guests and soldiers stopped and listened to their ruler. “They have crossed Drowners’ Run and made camp on Illian’s shores. At dawn they march to Syla’s Gate!” Everyone cheered and howled before continuing with their drinking and fornicating.

  “You... will... never... breach those gates,” Adilandra said through gritted teeth.

  The Goddess swivelled on the elf with a face of fury. It slowly turned to into a cruel smile, as the torturous ruler turned to the stranger who had been enjoying the touch of Adilandra’s body.

  “She is yours for the night, Lord Xix. I will have a chamber prepared for you both.”

  The man flashed a broad smile of yellow, sharpened teeth. Adilandra blinked slowly and kept her expression one of stone. She would give the Goddess no pleasure in her reaction.

  Lord Xix and the Goddess walked away to enjoy other aspects of the party, leaving Adilandra to her thoughts alone. She did her best to ignore the others that passed by and inspected every inch of her body. They had a particular interest in her ears and often pulled on them. The lone tear that streaked down her pale face couldn’t be helped in the end. She was utterly alone and the world was coming to an end around her. The queen was helpless to make any kind of difference.

  Only the dragons could alter the fate of Verda now...

  11

  Legendary

  Alidyr strode through the palace of Karath as if he owned it, paying no heed to the soldiers and their curious looks. None would dare stop him, or the assassin that walked beside him. Ro Dosarn had arrived that same day, as ordered, having brought with him the feared Arakesh. The capital city of The Arid Lands was now under the watchful eye of the most dangerous killers in human history.

  Having spent so many centuries living in Nightfall, Alidyr was accustomed to the heat and humidity that was typical of Illian’s southern lands. The elf reflected that the city was only a day’s journey west from their secret school for assassins. How many had tried to find it over the millennia and given up the place as myth and legend?

  Of course the city was not what it used to be. Upon his last visit, Karath had been a place of order, with severe punishments for those who stepped out of line. Now the slaves had risen up, the city’s own foundations, and created chaos when their plans so desperately needed compliance.

  It wouldn’t be long before the armies of the Darkakin arrived and the city would need to feed and house them while they were supplied with stronger weapons and armour. Though vicious creatures, the Darkakin were barbaric and would be no match for the elven army. Thankfully, measures had been taken a long time ago to correct this imbalance; the elves would be greeted by the largest army to ever walk the earth.

  Small fires and columns of smoke could be seen through every window in the palace. The city had turned on itself thanks to the so-called House of Owls. Alidyr smiled to himself, knowing that even now his warriors would be combing Karath and seeking the owls out. He would bring order where his brother, Nakir, had failed.

  Two golden doors were swung open for them, revealing a long room filled with the heads of the great houses and the personal advisers to the boy-emperor Faros. Alidyr could feel Nakir’s presence before he saw him, standing at the head of the long table that occupied the room. Behind the elf was a large square banner, decorated with t
he symbol of The New Dawn. Nakir had stylised it himself centuries ago, when he first had the idea to take over The Arid Lands from within. A white circle, with rays of light surrounding it, sat against the red material with a white diamond shape in the centre. Everyone in the room had a golden ring with the same emblem engraved into it.

  Nakir moved to greet his brother, putting the others at ease. Their elven heritage was known to these few, as was their swift wrath to any who couldn’t keep a secret. It probably didn’t help that an Arakesh stood beside him with his red blindfold tied around his eyes. The sight of any of the legendary assassins was enough to make the bravest of souls lose control of their bladder, let alone Ro Dosarn, the current Father of Nightfall.

  “Allow me to introduce you, brother.” Nakir turned with an outstretched hand to the two approaching soldiers.

  Alidyr had met the predecessors of those present, decades ago, and knew none of the current roster that formed the upper echelon of The New Dawn.

  “This is Supreme Commander Rorsarsh, the leader of Karath’s army.”

  Alidyr looked upon the rotund human and wondered how long it had been since he actually used the sword on his hip. The large man bowed his head in respect and swept his cloak aside for dramatic effect. He was more politician than warrior.

  “It is the honour of my life to meet the head of the Hand.” Rorsarsh spoke in basic Illian, rather than his native tongue of Kilanti. “This is my second-in-command, Halion Al-Anan.” The elf looked upon what was clearly a warrior with a strong jaw and a physique to match. “Like you My Lord, this is Halion’s first time within the sanctuary.”

  “I was attending these meetings before your father was born.” Alidyr walked away with Ro Dosarn trailing him.

  Both Rorsarsh and Halion took a step back to give the assassin more room.

  “Shall we begin?” Alidyr looked to Nakir, who nodded resentfully.

  It was obvious his brother didn’t want him here, but the will of Valanis was not to be questioned.

  Everyone except the elves and Ro took their seats along the table. Most wore expressions of fear. They were all weak in Alidyr’s eyes. Nakir had taken control of the city, and the three others that dotted The Arid Lands, but looking around the table now, Alidyr couldn’t imagine how. Perhaps his brother was owed more credit for his work in the desert.

  “Praise Valanis, the new dawn is here!” Nakir announced over the room. They repeated his words with less enthusiasm, looking nervously to Alidyr and Ro instead. “The work of your grandfathers and their grandfathers is about to bear fruit. Soon –”

  “You have all failed.” Alidyr stated flatly, interrupting his brother.

  Nakir, whose bald, tattooed head was exposed without his hood, looked to Alidyr with contempt.

  “Valanis has sent me because of your failure.” The idea of a direct order from the herald of the gods drained the colour from most. “Days from now the Darkakin will arrive at Syla’s Gate and be greeted by chaos. This city is in ruin under your leadership.” Alidyr paced the table, meeting every one of their eyes. He noted the look of surprise on the young commander’s face, clearly hearing the news of the Darkakin for the first time. “You can’t even keep your slaves under control, what hope do you have of supplying Valanis’ forces and marching on the rest of Illian? Can a group of slave orphans really topple this city?”

  “They are many, My Lord!” one of the advisers blurted from the other side of the table. “They have spies in every house and killers on every corner!”

  Ro Dosarn, who had remained on the other side of the table, stepped forward and plunged a small blade into the top of the advisor’s skull. It had been executed with such speed, that the man’s expression remained the same as he fell into the table with a thud.

  “They conquer you with fear.” Alidyr continued as if nothing had happened. The others around the table recoiled from the body and the running pool of blood that spread across the table’s surface. “But I have brought something worse...” The room followed the elf’s gaze to Ro Dosarn. “As we speak, your city is being flooded with Arakesh.” Supreme Commander Rorsarsh sat back in his chair in shock and looked to Nakir, who said nothing. “Your army is to stand by and ensure the Darkakin have the room to make camp. Have the forges manned day and night and the armour made ready. Once the Darkakin have been supplied, the combined forces will march to Tregaran in the north of the desert, there we will be met by any soldiers stationed at Ameeraska and Hervona.”

  Alidyr could see it beautifully in his mind. From the deep south, the Darkakin and the Karathan army would march north, to the edge of The Arid Lands, and bring order to the city of Tregaran, as well as resupplying and adding to their forces. Then, the soldiers from the east and west of the desert would join them before marching into the green pastures of the north. First they would sack Galosha, the most southern town in Alborn, before marching east to the coast. There, they would ravage Barrosh and resupply like a hungry plague of locusts. Then it was only a few hundred miles up the Shining Coast to Velia, the capital of Alborn and home to King Rengar.

  The armies of Orith in the far north, under the command of King Merkaris, would march south and sweep through Grey Stone and Lirian. The armies of Grey Stone and Lirian would join them or die with King Gregorn and Queen Isabella. Moving east, their combined forces would devastate Palios and Whistle Town before joining the Darkakin and the Karathan army in Velia, sealing Alborn’s fate. From Velia, the largest army Illian had ever seen would greet the white sails of the elven army.

  All of that hinged on the next few days. If the Darkakin army couldn’t get through the gates and be resupplied with new armour, the Karathan army would be hard pressed to beat the forces of Alborn.

  “How will we open the gate?” Rorsarsh’s deep voice asked, though his eyes glanced nervously at Ro.

  “Leave that to us,” Nakir replied, looking to Alidyr.

  Indeed it would probably take all of their considerable strength to open Syla’s Gate. They had been magically sealed over a thousand years ago, and would demand equal magic to open them again. Alidyr was confident that with the power of Naius, granted them by Valanis, the gate would bend to their will.

  Another hour went by as the heads of Karath’s industry gave their reports. Alidyr continued to interrupt his brother and give the supreme commander and the advisers new orders. He would have them earn their place in the new world.

  Eventually, the room was dismissed and the elves were left alone with Ro Dosarn, standing off to the side.

  “Why are you here?” Nakir hissed.

  Alidyr signalled to Ro and the assassin left them to it. “I am here because the master wills it.”

  “I was told that the Darkakin were mine to command. I am to lead the march north!” Nakir came to stand by his brother.

  “And so you will, brother,” Alidyr replied calmly. “But if the Darkakin are met with resistance before they can march out of The Arid Lands, the other kingdoms will learn of the invasion and rally to Karath’s aid. I have been sent to ensure that Karath falls in line. Once we take the capital, the other cities in this gods-forsaken land will follow suit.”

  “Karath is the anvil, I am the hammer!” There was no soothing Nakir’s pride.

  That mattered little to Alidyr, who as the head of the Hand always had other options.

  “You are the hammer; I am the hand that wields it. Do not forget your place, Nakir.” Alidyr fixed his golden eyes with that of Nakir’s until his brother looked away, submitting. “Now,” Alidyr checked that the doors were closed, “how serious a threat is this House of Owls?”

  Nakir took a breath, bringing his temper under control. “Their leader is quickly becoming legend.”

  “The White Owl...” Alidyr had already heard back from his assassins.

  “He is well trained by all accounts. Some of the city watch have reported that he fights like that of an honour guard.”

  Alidyr had heard of the prowess of the emperor’
s royal guards. They were said to rival any warrior in all of Illian, even the famous Graycoats. Of course, they were children in the eyes of an Arakesh.

  “These accounts can be trusted?” the elf asked.

  “He always leaves one or two alive, to tell of his skills.” Nakir looked out across the city vista, as if he might see the White Owl stalking across the rooftops.

  “He uses fear as a weapon...” Alidyr was quickly coming to respect this slave.

  “He has inspired the slave population,” Nakir continued. “Not only in Karath, but in Ameeraska and Tregaran. I fear that times are changing in the south, and at the wrong time no less.”

  “How so?” Alidyr asked, curious to his brother’s insight. The Arid Lands had been akin to a child to Nakir. He had guided them and moulded them over the centuries.

  “The slavers continue their work diligently, but the soldiers, the city watch... they are beginning to sympathise with the slaves, looking to the other kingdoms’ way of doing things. They continue to follow their orders, but I sense defiance.”

  “Rorsarsh doesn’t appear to have that attitude,” Alidyr offered.

  “He garners less respect every day. The men look to his second-in-command, Halion. Despite his father’s failings in the royal guard, he has risen through the ranks on the merits of his own deeds.”

  “His father?”

  “I forget his name, these humans are all the same to me. He was exiled from The Arid Lands after failing to protect the emperor and his wife from assassination.” Nakir had a wicked smile stretching his cheeks.

  “Would that be the same assassination you orchestrated?” Alidyr remembered some of the details, but had been more interested in the results at the time.

  “Indeed. I killed the spineless pair myself. I made it appear as though the House of Owls were responsible.”

  “I fear you may have only added strength to their spreading cause, brother. Though controlling the boy-emperor is far easier, I will concede.” Alidyr made for the door; he had been travelling almost constantly since leaving Valanis in Namdhor, and was in need of sleep. “Don’t worry brother; soon Karath will be under the lash of your whip once more. In the meantime, you should consider getting some rest. Soon we will be expected to open Syla’s Gate, a feat far greater than we expect, I’m sure.”