by Dan Zangari
“You shouldn’t address His Imperial Majesty in such a casual way,” chided the man beside the emperor.
“He’s fine,” Marden waved his hand. “Kaescis is my nephew. I don’t expect him to use formality around me.” Kaescis nodded to his uncle.
“I’ve called this meeting,” the emperor said, “to ascertain why you requested additional forces. Why were your two hundred not enough for such a simple task?” Did Uncle Marden not know? But Kaescis had sent word weeks ago. Had the news not made it to him? He found that unlikely.
“You don’t know, Uncle?” Marden shook his head.
How could such news not reach the emperor? And wouldn’t he have had to authorize dispatching the Crimson Praetorians? None of this was making sense.
Kaescis eased his mind and answered his uncle’s question. “While accessing the Keeper’s Shrine in the Igeacean Sea, we were attacked by the Sapphire Guard.”
“The mercenaries from Merdan?” a council member asked.
“Yes,” Kaescis said. “They were relentless. They slew all of my associate’s fellows. They nearly killed him too, but I was able to save him. But we suffered great losses. Nearly all of my soldiers died trying to escort Krindal back to the Executor’s Breath.”
“You sacrificed Mindolarn soldiers for a petty scholar?” demanded another council member. He seemed angered at the idea.
“He’s not just a scholar,” Kaescis said. “Krindal is the key to accessing the Isle of the Ancient Ones. If he had died, we’d have lost progress. Of course, we could always start over, but it would take years to traverse all the shrines in order to attune another man. And to make matters worse, we’re already in competition with the Sapphire Guard. They would have a head start and would most likely plunder the Isle before we could reach it.”
The council members looked grim at his report. It was the truth, though. The lives of a few hundred soldiers were well worth the sacrifice to ensure the safety of millions. Their deaths would secure the might of the empire.
“Are you sure the Sapphire Guard was after the Keepers’ Shrine?” another asked.
“Yes,” Kaescis said incredulously. “I heard their leader shouting for some of his followers to secure it while we fled. The Sapphire Guard knew where to find it. There is no doubt they are attuning someone.” Many of the council members sighed with disappointment.
“I only had two hundred with me,” Kaescis said. “The additional forces should be enough. We were evenly matched in numbers, but the members of the Sapphire Guard were quite skilled. Five hundred of our most skilled soldiers should be enough. Krindal also recruited a notorious band of adventurers, led by the son of Melthas Dol’shir.”
Hearing the name of one of the greatest enemies to the empire, several council members gasped, as did the emperor.
“The son of the Butcher of Tor?” muttered a council member. “Are you sure it is wise to work with him?”
“Mister Dol’shir does not know who I am,” Kaescis said confidently. His most recent experience with the Will bolstered him.
“You should be wary, nephew,” Marden said.
“He seemed a decent man,” Kaescis said, “and doesn’t harbor any resentment. He admitted to that.”
“I warn you again,” Marden said firmly. “Be wary of the sons of our enemies. Do not forget what the son of Adrin did to my brother just eight months ago.”
How could he forget? Kaescis had watched helplessly as that vile Alathian fatally struck his beloved uncle. Kaescis would have revenge upon that man, sooner or later.
“Now I have more questions,” Marden said. “I would like to know, in detail, everything that you have discovered since leaving the seat of the empire.”
* * * * *
The sun had long since set when Kaescis finished his report to his uncle and the empire’s Supreme Council. They seemed intrigued by the discoveries he and Krindal had made. Those who had been apprehensive about his protection of the old scholar were consoled after hearing about the various shrines and the ordeals it had taken to reach them. Kaescis also spoke of his plans concerning the Wildmen of Klindala. The Supreme Council seemed pleased that he intended to barter an alliance with those tribesmen. An alliance would prove fruitful now and in the future.
Stepping into the night, Kaescis found Laeyit outside the command fortress’s main keep. She looked sullen at her lack of involvement. Kaescis hadn’t wanted her at the meeting, and so had left her behind.
“You left without me,” Laeyit scolded him. Kaescis stopped on the steps leading to the main keep while Kaetet and Practil walked past Laeyit. They paid little attention to her.
“It was best you weren’t present,” Kaescis said.
Laeyit’s expression turned from sullen to furious, but changed again upon noticing Bratan. Laeyit bolted up the stairs and leapt into Bratan’s arms. They too had a bond of camaraderie. She stepped back, grinning, and then punched his arm playfully. “When did you get here, you big buffoon?”
“I’ve been here for weeks,” Bratan said. “I and several other Praetorians were sent by Raedina after she learned of your dilemma at that last shrine.” Laeyit smiled broadly, looking like a giddy child.
Kaescis, however, cocked his head. So Raedina sent the Praetorians, he mused. But she hadn’t the authority for that. And, Uncle Marden wasn’t surprised in the least at Bratan’s presence during the meeting. Perhaps the emperor had altered some things…
“That reminds me,” Bratan added. “I have another communication rod for you, Kaescis. And Raedina says you need to be more careful with this one.”
Kaescis opened his mouth to retort, but Laeyit chimed in, laughing as she spoke. “This, this is great!” she exclaimed. “Like old times, Kaescis!” Kaescis nodded. It did feel good to have the three of them together again. How long had it been?
“Did he tell you everything?” Laeyit gestured with her head to Kaescis, but was speaking to Bratan.
“I think so,” Bratan said.
Kaescis continued down the stairs and his two friends followed, chatting along the way.
“Did he tell you who Lord Cheserith delivered into his hands?” Laeyit asked. There was a sense of bloodlust to her words.
Bratan hummed with confusion. “Are you talking about the child of Dol’shir?”
“Yes!” Laeyit exclaimed. “I told Kaescis we should get rid of him before it’s too late, but he didn’t listen. Maybe he’ll listen to you.”
Bratan chuckled.
“What?!” Laeyit blurted. “You don’t agree?”
“No, if he’s not a threat,” Bratan said.
Laeyit grumbled.
Why was she so eager to kill the man? Kaescis wondered. It’s not like Cornar knew the truth. She feared he did, or would—how, Kaescis couldn’t fathom. Laeyit wanted to be rid of the man because of his lineage, not because of anything he had done, simply because he was the son of the Butcher of Tor. That was enough in her mind to warrant an ignominious death.
Bantering with each other, the three continued down to the shipyards. Their reminiscing felt like old times. They had been a force to be reckoned with, and they would be again. Together, they would topple that accursed Sapphire Guard.
Soon, they reached the Executor’s Breath. It was filled with a proper crew and a full complement of elite soldiers. Two other ships were moored nearby, the Helidar and the Ulicin, named for fallen generals who died during the war with the Kingdom of Los. They were warships identical to the Executor’s Breath, provided as promised by Admiral Vedigar. The men on the ships were some of the most accomplished soldiers and sailors in the entire Mindolarn navy.
Surely, his enemies couldn’t defeat him this time. With this force, he would be victorious, especially with the addition of Bratan and his fellow Praetorians.
Kaescis and his compatriots boarded the Executor’s Breath. To their surprise, they were welcomed aboard by the captains of the reinforcing vessels.
“Your Imperial Highness,” the captains
said, bowing in unison.
Kaescis shook his head. He was getting tired of formality. But why? Eight months ago he would have been content to be called lavish titles and showered with praise. Now, all he wanted was to bring glory to the empire and avenge his uncle. Was that the cause of all this informality? “You can just call me Kaescis,” he said.
“As you wish, Your—” A captain cut himself short. “Um, Kaescis.”
“Are your ships ready?” Kaescis asked.
“They are,” the other captain replied. “We can set sail at once.”
“Then once Admiral Kaetet says the Executor’s Breath is ready, we’ll be off,” Kaescis said.
“And where are we going?” the first captain asked.
“To the Isle of Klindala—more specifically, the ruins of Klindil.”
“I see,” the captain said with a nod. The other studied Kaescis with a raised eyebrow, awaiting further explanation.
“This will be one of the greatest voyages you and your crew will ever undertake,” Kaescis proclaimed. “For the glory of Mindolarn—no! For the glory of Kalda! Tonight marks the dawn of a new day for our empire. After we are through, the world will know the might of Mindolarn once again!”
THE END OF
Part One
Apprehending criminals was not something Griffith had imagined doing when he agreed to become an Agent of the Order, although he seemed to do it more often than not. Griffith had thought he might be undertaking tasks much like the ones his mentor had done during his days as an agent: infiltrating enemy strongholds, assassinating generals, gathering intelligence. The typical espionage stuff.
But times were different. The world was no longer at war.
Griffith rode toward the town of Dorin-Shrela upon his transmogrified steed—it was an amalgamation of earthen substances, bound together into the form of a horse. The cohesive bond was generated by a baelnarn under Griffith’s control. Some people said the baelnarns were the souls of dead creatures and that the ones used by the Alathian mages were the essences of deceased horses. They weren’t wrong. Most Alathian mages rode such creatures. Transmogrified steeds were far superior to ordinary horses. They never tired, and they galloped at speeds many times greater than their living counterparts.
Griffith eyed the small town. It really should have been considered a village, but Dorin-Shrela was a major port on the eastern coast of the Kingdom of Los. He was getting close to the town, so Griffith dismounted, waving his hand in a form of dismissal. He didn’t want to ride into town atop the transmogrified steed. That’d just give him away.
The steed lost cohesion, becoming a pile of dirt, grass, and rock bits. A white speck hovered where the horse had stood, then wisped to Griffith, disappearing beneath his clothing, where he felt it penetrate his skin.
Griffith then strode onward, continuing on foot. He fought the urge to move faster, as one had to do when enhanced with quickening magic. Your legs would want to burst into a run.
Soon, he reached the home mentioned in the letter from the local authorities. From an alley nearby, a tall fellow stood watching him. The man wore a broad hat and chewed on a straw.
Is that you, Bredan?
Griffith didn’t give him an acknowledgment, but continued onto the house.
The man in question, Gildin Von, had been accused of using an unsanctioned tevisral. A couple witnesses saw him injure himself while working on his home. Gildin had gone inside and returned unscathed, continuing the job as before. It sounded like the effects of an Arpran Cube. Griffith had never seen one, but the device was said to heal whoever touched it. Such tevisrals were kept under tight lock and key.
Once at the door, Griffith took a deep breath. He hated this part. Most of the time they’d run. Only once had he apprehended a willing suspect.
Griffith knocked on the door and tried to act as casual as he could, but he felt a stiffness growing inside him. Just relax… No answer came, so he knocked again. Griffith took a step back, glancing at a nearby window. A flash of movement sped across the room, moving away from the door.
Griffith groaned, grabbing the doorknob. Here we go… The door was unlocked, and he threw it open. “Gildin Von!” he shouted, “Are you here?” Of course, the man wouldn’t answer. If Gildin was running, he’d already figured out who was at his door.
A crash echoed from the rear of the home. Griffith hurried through the entry and through a sitting room, the same room where he’d seen the movement. He swiftly bounded over the furniture and darted into a kitchen. A table was tipped over, blocking a hallway.
He’s got guts. Griffith shook his head and leapt over the table. It was an easy feat when enhanced with quickening magic. Griffith hurried through the hall, finding a door swaying on its hinges. He bolted through it and scanned the yard. Faint footsteps trailed off to his left.
There, he thought, looking beyond a wooden fence to a space between two other homes. Griffith leapt the fence with ease and ran through another yard, leaping over another fence. He hurried onto another road as a dark-haired man ran into a nearby alley. Gildin Von! The street was mostly empty and Griffith ran at unnatural speed to the alleyway. A thud echoed between the buildings as he entered.
Gildin Von lay on the ground, groaning and reeling on his back. Looming over him was the man with the broad hat. The tall fellow lowered a fist and shook his head, glancing to Griffith with a smirk.
“That worked out well,” the tall fellow said, laughing and grabbing Gildin by his shirt. Griffith knew that voice. It was Bredan’s, although Bredan didn’t look like himself. He was definitely under an illusion.
“I wondered if that was you,” Griffith said. “How did you get to the alley so fast?”
“I’ve been back here the whole time,” Bredan said, pulling Gildin to his feet. “That was my illusion you saw out in front of his home.”
“No, no, no!” Gildin shouted, trying to break free.
“Calm down,” Griffith urged, then uttered the words of a transmutative spell. Brown magic wisped into the ground, breaking apart the cobblestones. The now–raw matter rose into the air and wrapped around Gildin’s wrists, forming handcuffs. The chain between them was long, but it shortened at Griffith’s mental command, bringing Gildin’s hands together.
“Gildin Von,” Bredan said, “you are under arrest for possession of an unsanctioned tevisral.”
“No!” Gildin cried. “It’s not mine, I swear it!”
“We have proof,” Bredan said flatly. “And witnesses.”
“No!”
“This can go smoothly if you cooperate with us,” Griffith said. He stepped forward and put a hand on Gildin’s shoulder, attempting to calm him. “We need to know some details. How did you come into possession of it, what do you intend to use it for, and why did you decide to take possession of it?”
“It’s not mine!” Gildin shouted. “I was only transporting it.”
“Trafficking tevisrals too?” Bredan grunted, grabbing the chain on the transmuted handcuffs.
“No!” Gildin cried, “I’m not selling it! Someone asked me to hold it for him for a few days. That’s all.”
“But you used it,” Bredan said. “That’s punishable in and of itself.”
“I was hurt, okay?” Gildin squirmed. “I didn’t have time to find an arpranist. We only have one here in town, and he’s quite busy. Sometimes he’s even gone to neighboring villages.”
Griffith looked to Bredan, but the other agent had no pity for the man.
“Who asked you for help?” Griffith asked.
“He’s a merchant,” Gildin said. “I’ve only seen him a few times. Goes by the name of Dreyen. That’s all I know. Dreyen comes into port on different ships.”
“Did this Dreyen say why he had the tevisral?” Bredan asked.
“He was selling it to a man,” Gildin said. “Rumors said that the poor in the capital weren’t being healed by arpranists because they couldn’t pay them.”
“That’s absurd!” Bred
an shouted. “That goes against the Alathian Code. No arpranist here in the Kingdom would dare charge for their services.”
Gildin shied away at Bredan’s outburst. Bredan’s words were true. Not only was it a violation of the mages’ code of conduct, but it was illegal under the Edicts of the Mage-King. A mage could be stripped of his rank and banished for doing such things. No one would dare risk it. Besides, the Edicts granted unalienable rights to the Kingdom’s citizens, such as the right to be healed by an arpranist.
“What I want to know is how you smuggled it past the Frontier Guard,” Bredan said.
Gildin sighed, ashamed. “Dreyen told me about the atrocities several months ago. Last month, when he was leaving port, he told me he was going to deliver something that would stop them. I agree to help. Dreyen said he’d drop the tevisral overboard. I watched for his return, and when he arrived, I took my fishing boat out to where he said he’d drop it. I fished it out of the water and hid it beneath one of my loose planks. A few days later I brought it home. Dreyen said it’d be an easy job, that I’d never get found. He was wrong…”
Bredan grunted, “Well, that was forthcoming.”
“I thought if I’d cooperate you’d let me off…” Gildin winced.
“Let you off?” Bredan burst into laughter. “Justice cannot be denied!” Gildin winced again.
“I’m sorry,” Griffith said, feeling a knot form in his stomach. “But from what you’ve told us, we cannot just let you go.”
“B-bu-but!” Gildin stammered. “I was deceived by Dreyen!”
“Your ignorance cannot negate the consequences of your actions,” Bredan said firmly.
“But it wasn’t malicious!” Gildin cried, a tear trickling from his eye. “Please, I have a daughter. I’m all she has left. Her mother died last winter!” Pain struck Griffith’s heart.
“You should have thought about her before you acted,” Bredan said, shoving Gildin through the alleyway. “Come on, to the City Watch with you!”
“Can’t you make an exception?!” Gildin cried, tears flowing from his eyes.
“Unfortunately we can’t,” Griffith groaned, following Bredan and Gildin. “You should be prepared for what’s coming. You’ll be tried here in Dorin-Shrela and then sentenced to Ahzeald. You’ll most likely receive five years.”
