The Fall of Erlon

by Robert H Fleming

  Prince Rapp still hated it.

  Every day he had to leave his military uniform hanging in the closet and instead stuff himself into the formal jackets and puffy shirts that modern fashion demanded of a royal diplomat. The women looked the same and were allowed to wear their normal dresses, but the men looked like birds with their breast feathers puffed out and they waddled around in the jacket tails and spoke in entirely too formal sentences.

  It had only been three days and Rapp was already prepared to take drastic measures and flee to the front against his mother’s orders.

  “The trade rights of a sovereign Laine are vital to the survival of this great alliance.”

  The Lainian ambassador, a small man with only wisps of white hair remaining on his head, had been talking for almost an hour. Even the diplomats surrounding Rapp were starting to lose interest.

  “I urge you all to focus on trade during the coming summit meetings. We are all here to represent our own countries, that much can’t be denied. But we are also here for the larger good on the Continent. This Coalition is to ensure peace lasts on this great land.”

  “Thank you, Ambassador.” The queen’s voice cut through the brief break between the Lainian’s sentences. It appeared like the ambassador wanted to continue his speech, but Queen Caroline stood up from her seat in the center of the room. “We’ll keep your wise words in mind as we move forward with this summit.”

  The ambassador bowed and resumed his seat. Queen Caroline smiled at him and surveyed the table on either side of her.

  “Now, next on the agenda I believe we have an update from the Erlonian front of our war effort. Is that correct?”

  Rapp sat up. His mind ripped itself out of the haze of a daydream and turned to face the end of the table where the Kurakin Ambassador sat.

  Instead of the darkly bearded Kurakin standing to speak, Ambassador Leberecht rose from the middle of the Moradan delegation next to the Kurakin.

  “Yes, Your Highness, that’s correct.”

  Anyone who saw Leberecht would instantly guess at his immense love of food. The Moradan purple jacket he’d chosen for today’s meeting barely contained his gut as it erupted from his front.

  The large man looked up and down the table and gave a quick wink when his eyes passed over Rapp.

  The prince had grown up with Leberecht around in the Moradan courts. The ambassador was born in Wahring, but now served as the chief advisor to the Moradan king. When the Erlonian Empire had defeated Rapp’s father and occupied Citiva and sent the royal family into exile, they’d fled to the coast and been welcomed with open arms by Leberecht and the Moradans.

  While Rapp’s father was off at war, Leberecht had become a father figure of sorts during the prince’s formative years. Rapp often called him “uncle” despite Leberecht being very far from related to him nor even highborn. It was a strange relationship, but seeing the large man and hearing his voice brought back fond memories for Rapp from his childhood.

  “I will relay the updates coming in from General Duroc that were sent to Ambassador Mikhail.” Leberecht turned and nodded to the bearded Kurakin. Ambassador Mikhail smiled back up at Leberecht and Rapp thought he saw the diplomat shiver slightly at the sight of Mikhail’s row of filed Kurakin teeth.

  Leberecht recovered quickly and gave a dramatic pause while looking down the table at the rest of the gathering.

  “General Duroc marches on Plancenoit. It will fall within the week, if it hasn’t already.”

  Gasps came from up and down the long table. The murmurs among the delegation members from all the countries grew and Rapp saw the shock on Thirona’s face across the table as she whispered with the Brunian delegation.

  “Is he confident he can take the city alone, Ambassador?” Queen Caroline stayed seated next to Rapp. Her voice carried over the din of the diplomats around them.

  Rapp saw the Kurakin diplomat chuckle at the question as Leberecht answered with a nod.

  “Yes. Marshal Lauriston is north of the city somewhere. It appears the Erlonians didn’t think the Kurakin would move so quickly through their southern defenses.”

  “I think we’re all surprised by how quickly the Kurakin are moving. They are much farther north than planned, but this is wonderful news.”

  Rapp felt his mother stiffen at this new voice. It came from directly across from the queen and seemed to have a soft power over the room. The murmuring of the diplomats ceased and all heads turned towards the Sorceress Thirona from Brun.

  She was a tall and lean woman who moved very similar to the memories Rapp had of her sister Epona back when she was part of the Wahrian court during Rapp’s early childhood. Thirona’s hair had a brighter glimmer of red to it, though, and she wore long dresses the color of flames.

  Queen Caroline’s chair creaked from her tight grip on its arms as Thirona continued her question.

  “Is there news of my niece, the Princess Elisa, from Duroc?”

  Leberecht turned back to Mikhail and the Kurakin gave a shake of his head to Leberecht.

  “No, Sorceress, there’s been no news of the princess,” Leberecht said. “But we still believe she’s in the palace and Duroc assures Mikhail that the girl’s safety is of utmost priority when the army breaks through the walls.”

  “Do be sure to reiterate the importance of the girl to him, Ambassador.” Queen Caroline’s voice was level and calm, but Rapp knew the words came out too quick. She wanted to be sure to keep Thirona from taking over the conversation.

  Leberecht nodded in reply and so did the Kurakin ambassador.

  “I have another concern, if I may.” Thirona stood up this time and smiled sweetly across the table to the Wahrian queen. All the eyes of the table, especially those belonging to the male diplomats, were now fully focused on the long form of the Brunian sorceress. Rapp could see his mother’s knuckles turning white on top of the arm of her chair.

  “What concern is that, Sorceress?” Leberecht said. He remained standing and smiled down the table at Thirona.

  “When the Horde takes the city, what flag will fly over the walls and the palace?”

  The Kurakin Ambassador leaned forward and tilted his head in confusion up at Leberecht. Rapp noticed the hilt of a dagger protruding out of the Kurakin’s jacket at his hip for the first time. Leberecht turned from the Kurakin and faced Thirona. He seemed to not comprehend the question either.

  “I’m sorry, Sorceress, I don’t fully understand your question,” Leberecht said.

  Rapp was finally getting interested in the summit’s conversation. Not only were they discussing the actual war strategy of the western front, but Thirona’s words were making his mother visibly upset. It was too good of an opportunity not to enjoy.

  Maybe Rapp should stay at this summit a little longer and see how long it took his mother to explode?

  “I’m merely concerned about the optics of the matter.” Thirona continued to smile down the table at Leberecht, and even though the charm wasn’t directed at Rapp, he felt the sudden urge to tell a joke and make the sorceress laugh.

  “Duroc is taking the capital of the empire,” Thirona continued. “If the black of the Kurakin flies over the city, I worry what the common people will think. This war is a joint effort from everyone in the Coalition.”

  “That’s true,” Leberecht said. He bowed his head towards the sorceress. “I’m sure General Duroc already plans to fly the white of the Coalition, but we’ll write to ensure that he acquiesces to this summit’s wishes.”

  Ambassador Mikhail nodded his agreement to Leberecht’s statement. Thirona resumed her seat.

  “Thank you for bringing that up, Sorceress,” Leberecht said. “Very good point.”

  Leberecht rubbed his hands together in front of his large gut. “Another grand step towards our pacification of the former empire. When our Kurakin allies take Plancenoit, they will fly the white flag of the Coalition about the walls to signal our victory.”

  Chapter 4

  Eve
n the most hardened northern veterans waver when faced with the fanged teeth and charging wolverines of the Kurakin Horde.

  Military History of the Continent

  Richard Shaw

  Andrei

  Scythe Commander Andrei looked back to the south and saw the black flag of Kura raised over the top of the Erlonian palace in the distance. The Scythe leader pulled his eyes away from the sight and focused on the path in front of him.

  His wolverine grunted and sniffed at the ground of the path. Andrei placed a hand on the right shoulder of the beast to keep it on the intended route. He felt the animal’s shoulders shift underneath him.

  The forest was quiet. There was no rumbling from the Kurakin cannons behind them. Plancenoit had fallen. The war would soon be over.

  But Andrei still had a job to do. He was a key cog in Duroc’s grand plan. Some idea to push the Kurakin farther and higher than they’d ever been. Something about resurrecting old gods and memories. And it all started with toppling this great northern empire.

  Andrei didn’t care about the grand plans of the world leaders. He cared about getting home, back to the chill air of the south. To do that, he had to obey orders and accomplish things quickly. He had to take things one step at a time.

  Today’s task was easy enough. Find a girl. Bring her to Duroc.

  “Dismount here.” Andrei gave the order and heard it passed down the line of his Scythes.

  Andrei swung his leg off his wolverine and led the beast over to the nearest tree. He scratched the brown-gray hair on its head and commanded the animal to stay. No ties were ever needed for a Scythe’s wolverine.

  The beast snarled in reply and showed its white fanged teeth, giving Andrei a final sniff before lying down next to the tree.

  Andrei turned and walked back to his Scythe warriors. The men checked their blades and pistols, counted napthas on their belts, and re-buckled boot straps. All had thick beards and long, dark hair. All were ready for a fight.

  The Scythes were always ready for a fight. They were the elite of the elite in the Kurakin military and Andrei knew they would be up to this task.

  “We’ll go stealth from here,” Andrei said.

  “How far?” Jerkal asked.

  “Not far. And there shouldn’t be many men, but be careful. We’ve taken the city, no need for a casualty now.” Andrei blinked and saw a flash through the connection with his hawk. The farm was just through the forest to their north.

  “An easy day, then.” Jerkal smiled at the Scythes around him. His teeth were pointed fangs all the way across the front of his mouth. The other Scythes responded with smiles of their own. All of them bared their pointed teeth to show off the most menacing aspect of their race, the reason the northerners had feared their people over the centuries.

  “Maybe.” Andrei nodded at his soldiers. “But for a Scythe? No easy day.”

  “No easy day,” the men repeated in unison.

  Andrei returned their grins. There never was an easy day as a Scythe.

  The group moved off into the woods. They spread into a wedge formation with Andrei at the point. He scratched at fleas in his beard and moved his shoulders about. The fleas had an amazing intuition around settling in places on his back that couldn’t be reached.

  The farmhouse appeared quickly. It was right where his sakk, his hawk, had shown him. Andrei looked up through the canopy of the trees but couldn’t see his bird. He silently thanked the hawk and went back to focusing on the farmhouse in front of him.

  Andrei gave a nod and the Scythes spread out even farther. They encircled the farm complex in complete silence.

  Andrei moved up the road and used a field of tall crops as cover. He knelt at the end of the last plot and looked at the house. There was a porch with plenty of cover and windows facing south. The barn door was open. That could be a trap.

  Andrei was about to step forward and move to the porch when the first shot blasted out of the front of the house.

  He saw the puff of smoke from the bottom-floor window as the musket ball passed over his head. Andrei ran forward as the next two shots went off in the adjacent windows.

  His men moved forward from all around the house. Andrei altered his plan and went across the face of the house, drawing the eyes of the defender. He reached a tree stump and crouched behind it after firing off a wild round from his own musket at the windows.

  Jerkal was behind the house. Andrei only had to give him time.

  Andrei stayed behind the log and heard the next volley go off. It wasn’t aimed at him, it was aimed at the other men. They’d taken Andrei’s lead and moved through the fields in front of the house.

  Jerkal caught Andrei’s eye and winked. The Scythe second-in-command already had a naptha lit. Andrei saw the coloring was a lighter brown. A smoke naptha.

  Jerkal climbed up on the porch from the side and waited for the naptha’s fuse to cook down. One more shot came from the house and cracked against a nearby wagon some of the Scythes crouched behind. Jerkal threw the bomb into the windows where the latest shot originated.

  A muffled bang. Followed by a yell. Smoke began to billow from the windows.

  “Forward!” Andrei followed his own order immediately and let his men push up around him. Jerkal remained on the porch with a pistol drawn. The Scythes spread out on the lawn of the farmhouse and kept their eyes on the doors.

  “Watch for the girl!” Duroc wanted the girl alive but didn’t care about anyone else.

  Black smoke continued to billow out of the windows. Coughing came from the house. Andrei and the Scythes waited. His musket grew heavy held up with his arms, but he stayed still.

  Finally a shadow moved. A body pushed out of the front door and staggered on the porch.

  A man.

  Jerkal’s pistol shot took him in the head and dropped him.

  Another man came out the door behind the first, this one coughing and sputtering as he fell to all fours. A musket shot from one of the Scythes on the lawn took him in the chest when he tried to rise.

  Andrei shifted forward. “Watch the back,” he called to the Scythes on the other side of the house. He glanced to his right and saw the barn still standing open. “Check the barn.”

  Two Scythes in the front broke off and moved towards the other building.

  Andrei turned his attention back to the main house. Jerkal quickly wrapped a cloth around his mouth and nose and ducked through the black smoke that hung in the doorway. The other Scythes pushed up to below the front porch. Andrei kept his eyes on the windows.

  A yell came from the house. It was quickly followed by a bang.

  Seconds passed and Andrei felt like it was an eternity before Jerkal yelled, “Clear!”

  Andrei let out a breath and lowered his musket. He looked towards the barn and saw one of his men in the doorway shake his head.

  The farm was clear.

  “Three men, sir,” Jerkal said when the smoke had cleared and Andrei stepped into the house.

  “No girl?”

  “No.”

  “Upstairs?”

  “No one.”

  Andrei felt a pit form in his stomach. This wasn’t going to be an easy day.

  “Is there a cellar?”

  “Not that I’ve seen.” Jerkal stood over the last of his kills in the middle of the kitchen. The boy was on his stomach with a great pool of blood around him.

  “Maybe the barn, then.” Andrei was surprised. He’d assumed the girl would be hiding upstairs. Had she somehow slipped away while the Scythes advanced on the farm?

  Andrei moved back to the porch and looked towards the barn, but could already feel that the men would find nothing there. The three men from the main house had been alone. The girl was gone. This wouldn’t be a simple task after all.

  Andrei sighed and thought on his hawk. His vision morphed to show the bird’s view of the forest north of here as it stretched into the hills. They would track the girl down and find her easily enough. It might just take
longer than originally thought.

  Elisa

  Elisa worked to gather wood for her fire. The chill of the approaching winter hung in the air and the warmth from the fast-disappearing sun would soon abandon her. She wasn’t going to freeze to death on her first night on her own.

  The galloping horseman and his message about her former home had plagued Elisa’s sleep the night before. She’d woken up in the middle of the night and knew what she had to do. There was no more pushing the problems of the world away from her. She had to act.

  She’d packed up her things and left early the next morning.

  No real plan, but she’d left Mon and Gabriel and the farm forever without a goodbye.

  Plancenoit had fallen. The Horde would come for her. Elisa decided to take the risk on her own and strike out north like the Lakmian had suggested. The danger was now greater on the farm than the unknown state of the war in the north. Elisa would rather be in control than sitting idle, anyway.

  She’d traveled north before, of course, but always in a carriage as part of a caravan with her father and mother. There’d been soldiers to protect her then. Old guardsmen armed to the teeth and cavalry on tall horses all around.

  Now she was alone. The dark of the evening closed in around her. But she was a Lannes, daughter of the Emperor of Imperial Erlon, and she would not be afraid simply from darkness falling.

  Her footfalls crunched through the dirt of the forest floor and created the only noise in the forest. There was the occasional bird call through the evening air, but no other sound.

  The forest pressed in around her and she had a persistent urge to look over her shoulder. Like there was someone or something watching her.

  Maybe her Lakmian guide was out there right now. Or maybe it was something else. Something the guide wanted her to avoid.

  She stooped and gathered up kindling and longer sticks and broke the longest branches into pieces and returned to where she’d laid her pack. The darkness was coming fast. She bent down and leaned sticks against each other. The final shape made her think of the paintings of the ancient pyramids across the northeastern sea.