Archeologist Warlord: Book 3

by E. M. Hardy

  “I… guess so.”

  Martin groaned softly in exasperation. “That is a lame answer, you know that? Totally lacking in conviction. I get that you may be getting the nerves and I should give you a little more time to think about this. But still…”

  The young prince shifted at Martin’s statement, turning thoughtful instead of pensive. He began rubbing his chin as he shifted his gaze to an empty corner of a ceiling—a habit of Suhaib’s when he started to get lost deep in thought.

  “Well. This marriage won’t threaten the emirate since Mufeed is going to inherit from father. I don’t think he’ll change his mind about changing the inheritance any time soon. The only problem here is that my station may not be as high as hers, considering she is the ruler of her people. What does she stand to gain from marrying me, though?”

  Suhaib began pacing, furrowing his brows together. “An ally in the Basin? We’re already on good terms with the Empire, but a blood-tie… yes, that could work to strengthen both of our peoples. The Empire has a few enemies, yes, but it should be stable enough right now with you helping it out… helping us out as well. We’d be honor-bound to aid the Empire during times of trouble, and the Empire… yes, she’d also be honor-bound to aid us if the League should ever renege on its agreements. Though maybe she’s angling for—”

  “Okay, now you’re overthinking it.”

  “Huh?”

  Martin was about to go on a long spiel about matters of the heart, of how love is the glue that keeps two people together, when he remembered Suhaib’s station in life. They weren’t just a random couple with no other concerns in life but their own. He was a prince of Ma’an and she was the Empress of the Ren, each with responsibilities to their respective peoples.

  “Okay. I just remembered that you two hitching up will have some very real consequences for both of your peoples. I kinda forgot that part about you two being royalty, so it’s not entirely unfair for you to think in terms of what you’re getting out of this relationship.”

  His walker craned its neck as it nodded. “I was just hoping that maybe love would factor into the whole thing, what with you desiring to be with her… to love someone.”

  Martin slumped the shoulders of his walker as dark ideas began brewing in his mind, in the core that defined his existence. These ideas revolved around his situation in life, about his inhuman nature that would preclude him from enjoying any kind of relationship like the one between Suhaib and Zi Li.

  Before those ideas could coalesce into a coherent thought, Suhaib surprised him by pouting and crossing his hands on his chest. “And what makes you think I haven’t come to love her?”

  That got Martin’s attention back to the prince’s situation. “Hell, now that I think about it… when did you have the time to court her? You two haven’t been spending that much time with one another anyway, what with everyone dealing with crises at every turn.”

  “I… we exchanged letters. Regularly. About once a week.” Suhaib’s defensive stance melted at that declaration as he squirmed, looking as if he expected to be berated or something.

  “Letters? Ones sent manually, not over my post network? No wonder I didn’t sniff anything out. I mean, you two hit it off pretty nicely when you first met, but over a year of exchanging letters the old fashioned way?”

  “Nearly two,” interrupted Suhaib. “We started exchanging letters as soon as you opened up the Puruzlu Mountains to couriers.”

  Martin chuckled at that. “Well then, I guess I really shouldn’t be as surprised that she got tired of waiting and decided to pop the question. But still... shame on me for not picking up on it. You two have been flirting for nearly two years and I couldn’t get a clue?” Martin’s chuckle bordered on laughter, though it was a light-hearted one with no hint of malice.

  “I… well. Yes,” Suhaib finished lamely, uncrossing his hands as he joined Martin in a chuckle. His chuckle, however, was nervous as he studied the clay construct’s painted face. “You… you don’t think it was unmanly of me? Taking my time, courting her through words instead of kisses, moving so slowly that she ended up proposing first?”

  Martin stared at Suhaib, the painted eyes of the walker boring into the prince’s eyes. “No, Suhaib, I don’t think you are any less of a man for doing what you did. The only thing that matters is whether the two of you will make this marriage work.”

  The clay construct gently draped an arm around Suhaib as he continued, “And I tell you this,” he said simply, wishing his walkers had a mouth that could smile as warmly as he felt. “I honestly hope that the two of you find happiness with each other. Not just as two royals doing what needs to be done for their peoples, but as two people who will love another until your dying days.”

  “I… thank you, Martin. You have no idea how much I needed to hear those words.” It was Suhaib’s turn to grin now, his brows waggling in mischief. “Now I only need to ‘borrow’ your words in a way that I can convince my father and brothers to stop picking on me. You would not believe what they’ve been putting me through when I told them about Zi Li’s proposal. I—”

  The prince’s impending rant was cut short by a messenger rushing through the halls of the royal palace, clutching a satchel bearing the emergency colors on its flap. The red-and-yellow streamers immediately caught Suhaib’s attention, all thoughts of marriage and teasing thrown out the window as they chased the messenger as he rushed through the winding passages of the palace.

  The prince and the walker beside him followed the messenger, who eventually made his way to the Emir’s private study. The armsmasters guarding the room allowed Suhaib to pass, but not Martin’s walker. The two simply nodded to one another, with Martin parking his walker right outside the study.

  Martin instead set himself on alert, the idle fragments of his consciousness immediately coming to life. The red-and-yellow streamers weren’t indicative of an immediate threat, like an approaching army that somehow managed to evade all of Martin’s sentries and eyeballs.

  If that were the case, the messenger would have been flying the red-and-red streamers while blowing a horn even before he approached the city’s walls. Even stranger was the fact that the messenger donned the streamers only when he entered the palace itself.

  That didn’t mean there was no threat of danger, however.

  Walkers within the city of al-Taheri stood straighter, with Martin keeping a careful watch for any threats within the walls. Scarabs positioned themselves atop towers, their mandala patterns gathering chi to power their crystalline weapons. High in the air, eyeballs began circling around the city before floating away to check for approaching dangers. Martin did the same with the eyeballs patrolling the airspace above and around the Emirate, scanning the land for any imminent threat.

  He also began assembling another force of walkers and scarabs just in case he had to take action. He merged the patrols and the sentries into a quick-reaction force. He also prepped a larger group in the Qleb Sierra and another one in the underground facility deep within the deserts of the Bashri Basin—all prepared to march at a moment’s notice.

  An hour passed before Suhaib and his father, Emir Rifaah Ma’an, swept out of the royal study. Martin expected to be briefed about the latest crisis, to be handed information so he could go rush and help where it was needed. He did not expect the Emir to burst out of the study absolutely livid, his face purple with rage, while Suhaib glanced awkwardly between his father and Martin’s walker.

  “You!” growled the Emir, stomping up to the walker and catching Martin off-guard with all the hostility rolling off his aura. “What are you doing a thousand miles south-east of my emirate?”

  Martin would have blinked if he could. Instead, he shook his head in confusion and rallied his thoughts.

  “Uh… I’ve been expanding infrastructure within the Bashri, connecting the emirates with obelisks and nodes. I am also busy fortifying the Empire’s northern borders with the Grass Sea, as well as b
uilding bridges to connect the Isles of Taiyo together. What the hell would I be doing in the Wastes?”

  Martin cringed with his walker, not liking the way the Emir continued glaring at him.

  Suhaib, however, stepped in and intervened. “Martin, there have been sightings of a massive construct army making its way to the emirate.”

  “Suhaib!” barked Emir Ma’an, twisting around to shush his son.

  The young prince, however, shook his head as he matched the Emir’s gaze with one of his own. “I trust him, father. Martin has been nothing but straightforward with us, and I choose to believe him in this matter. Now please, let me finish explaining so we can get Martin’s input on this threat.”

  The Emir scowled at his son’s defiance before huffing in indignation. “Then leave this to me. Go gather your brothers and sisters. And that cartel contact of yours… no, wait. Not yet. We need to find out more about this before we give the cartels a chance to stab us in our backs. Just go get your brothers and sisters first. I will handle explaining the situation to Martin.”

  Suhaib glanced warily at the Emir, suspecting that the man only wanted to get his son out of the way. The reassuring nod he received, however, encouraged the young prince to leave the rest to his father.

  “Well then,” responded Emir Rifaah with a heavy sigh. “If you have won my son over completely enough for him to talk back to me like that, then I can only honor my son’s faith by trusting you as well.” The Emir nodded to Martin, beckoning him back inside the private study. Martin followed with his walker, gently closing the door as the Emir settled into a cushion.

  “The local garrison commander got a tip from a poppy resin smuggler that surrendered himself two months ago. The commander thought he was crazy at first, but they started to come around when he went into the details of where he found the constructs. The man’s jinni testified with him, swearing upon his bond to the truth. That was enough for the commander to send a few scouts to check the smuggler’s claims out.”

  The Emir exhaled heavily after that, going over the documents he held in his hand once more. “The scouts never even reached the location that the smuggler pointed out. Before they could arrive to their destination, they were halted by thousands upon thousands of constructs—all steadily making their way here, to al-Taheri.

  “All attempts at diplomacy were met with hostility. Fortunately for the scouts, these constructs refused to give chase after a certain point. They just stood on the sands in a neat and orderly line, watching the scouts that watched them back. The scouts then climbed atop a few tall sand rock formations to get a better view of the army before them…”

  Emir Rifaah leaned in closer, his eyes scrunched in worry. “…and these constructs appear to be building multiple pyramids right on top of the desert sands.”

  Chapter 02

  Martin already commanded a swarm of eyeballs to head south-east of al-Taheri, well beyond the boundaries of Ma’an, even before Emir Rifaah finished assembling his family.

  His eyeballs were about halfway toward their destination by the time the Emir finished briefing his sons, daughters, and wives about the threat.

  Those eyeballs finally hit their maximum range limit by the time the Emir of Ma’an instructed Martin to contact the League of Merchants, appraise them of the coming danger.

  They saw nothing.

  Despite the telescopic lenses of the eyeballs, they were simply too far from the approaching constructs. This was good, for it meant he had more time to prepare for whatever was coming over the horizon. This was also bad, for he had no idea what to expect.

  This was why he immediately began funneling his dolls to Ma’an with plans to build a network of obelisks, expanding the range of his own constructs.

  Instead of a wide web, though, Martin planned out a straight ‘highway’ of obelisks that would connect his constructs to the purported rogue constructs as soon as possible.

  A few hundred miles away, with dolls building nonstop even as he poured in more dolls from all corners of the continent… it should take him no more than five weeks to reach the reported constructs, maybe even less if they were also building their way toward al-Taheri.

  The walkers and eyeballs would be the first to meet these rogues, as they were capable of operating more than a hundred miles from the nearest obelisk. His other constructs—the dolls, cow-boxes, and the scarabs—could only work within a dozen miles of an obelisk.

  “Great. Even more potheads, except this time they’re not being friendly at all,” huffed Isin, busy packing her things as she prepared to depart from the Isles of Taiyo.

  “If this were anyone else but you, Martin, I would have told them to get out of my face and lay off the hash.” Isin momentarily paused from her packing before shaking her head and snorting softly to herself. “Then again, I really shouldn’t be surprised. Things tend to get strange when you’re involved in them.”

  “Smart-ass quips aside,” mentioned Martin through the nearest walker. “I’ve really got to thank you for getting out of your way. I mean, you’re the only League executive out there that’s willing to talk to me, and having you convince the others to pitch in and help Ma’an will be a big help.”

  Isin waved him away even as she slid vials of green, black, and grey goop into their cushioned cases. “Don’t be surprised that the others are pushing me on you. I’m already outed as one of the most public faces of the League anyway, so they might as well use me as a go-between.

  “And besides,” Isin huffed with a smirk, “All the money I’m bringing in from negotiating trade deals is pleasing a lot of the other executives. The League is swimming in so many golds that the council is considering opening a whole new seat just for me. Now I won’t have to kill anyone to get an in!” she announced, chuckling darkly at her own joke.

  Martin shook the head of his walker as he matched Isin’s chuckle with one of his own. “It’s good that you’re looking on the bright side, I guess.”

  Isin continued to chuckle for a few more moments before settling down with a more serious expression on her face. She studied the walker from head to foot with a level of scrutiny that left Martin feeling uncomfortable.

  Before he could ask why she was looking at his walker like it sprouted horns, Isin went ahead and blurted out what was on her mind. “I’m pretty sure I know the answer, but just in case… be honest with me, Martin: are you playing some sort of game here?”

  “Erm… what?”

  “Are these mysterious new constructs under the control of another one like you, another ghost locked away in clay vessels? Or have you been pulling my leg with talks of peace and coexistence? Because if you are planning to invade, then let me be the first in line to accept you as my new overlord. I’d even kiss your ass if you asked me to.”

  “Hell, no!” shot Martin back more forcefully than he intended, leaning forward with his walker in annoyance. “Whatever those things are, they’re not mine! I’m just as surprised as everyone else that these constructs just popped out of nowhere. These constructs rebuffed all overtures made by Emir Ma’an’s scouts, reacting with violence first without even giving the scouts a chance to talk.

  “And the scouts say they’re building pyramids too. If I knew how to build those, do you really think I’d have passed up on building a couple dozen of my own?”

  Isin took all of Martin’s words in, studied his walker for a few more moments, and then nodded to herself as she whispered. “A couple hundred is more like it, what with your hard-on for industry and infrastructure.”

  “Whuzzat?”

  “Alright,” she said simply as she turned around and resumed packing her things.

  “Alright? What’s alright, Isin, and why do I have the feeling that all is not really right with you.”

  “Send one of your eyeballs or potheads to Marami’s Dry Goods in al-Taheri,” she replied, ignoring his outburst as she punched a particularly stubborn piece of clothing into her bags. “
Look for Hasam Marami and tell him that you’d like to order two and a quarter pots of yellow hash, five black veils, and a shipment of purple sandals. Tell him that Isin Safak will pick it up in… three weeks and four days, and that you don’t care that he doesn’t carry yellow hash in his store.”

  “Yellow hash, black veils, and purple… wait, is this one of those secret spy things you do in the League?”

  Isin chuckled at that once more. “Secret spy things… I guess that’s one way to put it. Yes, Martin, this is one of those ‘secret spy things’ in the League of Merchants. I’ll still need to head back to the Bashri to confirm things, but at least things will be more or less prepared when I get there.”

  “Oookay. And what, exactly, does yellow hash, black veils, and purple sandals mean?”

  Isin turned around to face Martin’s walker with a shake of her head. “Now Martin, you should know better than to ask a senior executive in the League of Merchants to divulge her secrets. Just be a good little pothead and spend a few weeks cracking the code… at least until we change it all up again.”

  Martin grunted at that, realizing that Isin and probably the rest of the League knew that it took him around two to three weeks to decipher the codewords they sent over his postal service. They tended to shift the pattern up every time they did, but that was nothing a couple hundred partitions of his consciousness couldn’t decode given time. They were also running out of ciphers using new patterns, so they shifted codes only when they absolutely needed to.

  Well, not that he cared that much. The only thing that mattered was alerting the League about a possible danger to the various emirates around the Bashri. He didn’t know how dangerous these constructs were, so he would rather the emirs face this threat together instead of apart. Hopefully, the League with its greater influence all over the Bashri would help smooth things out.

  ***

  After a month of non-stop construction, Martin managed to bring his eyeballs close enough to get his first clear picture of the approaching army of rogue constructs.