A Kingdom Under Siege

by Jeffrey L. Kohanek

  “How will this be different?” Brillens’ tone was cold, lacking the heat coming from Mollis. “How many squads would you sacrifice to take a worthless prison?”

  “I’ll not take the enemy lightly this time. Nor will I send soldiers in without ensuring their safety.” Mollis tapped his finger against the map. “We now possess two dozen catapults with flash bombs for ammunition – firepower I am not afraid to unleash. My men will ensure the war machines safe passage. Once in position, we will rain Issal’s fury down on them.”

  11

  Just Hide

  Chuli Ultermane crouched as she peered through a gap between two boulders. A few strides to her side, Thiron waited in silence. Like her, he was immobile, watching.

  “He is good,” Chuli whispered. “I haven’t seen more than a glimpse of him.”

  “Good, yes,” Thiron said, his voice hushed. “Yet, we were able to spot him, and that was a failure on his part.”

  “True.”

  She and Thiron hid on the ridge overlooking their camp. Five hundred feet away, someone lurked among a pile of boulders on the same ridge. They assumed the man was an Imperial scout. It only made sense. The Empire had likely anticipated that taking the Hipoint Garrison would be quick work. It was. However, Chuli doubted the enemy expected the cost would be so high. Even setting vengeance aside, the enemy couldn’t afford to make the same mistake twice.

  Time ticked by slowly and her thighs began to cramp. She saw nothing of the scout and began to wonder if he had slipped away. Just when she considered standing, a flicker of movement darted between two rocks. Moments passed and another flash of movement appeared higher up the ridge. He is leaving, taking the trail back to the road. It was the same trail she and Jonah had taken after fleeing the destroyed garrison.

  The scouting Chuli and Thiron had done over the previous weeks revealed the trail as the only way to enter the narrow canyon other than the canyon mouth to the west. Once known, the two rangers had tasked themselves with watching the trail, waking each morning before sunrise, scaling the cliff, and settling into position as they waited for the rising sun. Days and days passed without seeing anything of note. Until today.

  Chuli turned and gazed upon the complex below – the former prison, now a Kantarian army camp.

  Tucked into the east end of a canyon and surrounded by tall, steep cliff walls, the prison was protected by a man-made wall that crossed the canyon, connecting the cliff walls to the north and south. Six years past, a portion of the wall had been destroyed during a prison break. It had never been repaired. After abandoning the Hipoint garrison, retreating here had become a natural decision – offering a defensible position with shelter and fresh water.

  “He is gone,” Thiron said. “Let’s descend and alert Marcella.”

  The man spun about and headed east, crouching the entire time. Chuli followed, her thighs still sore. Just before they rounded the bend in the ridge, they reached a narrow cleft. Thiron climbed down the gap while Chuli waited above.

  Twenty-feet down, he came to the spike they had driven into a fissure. A thick rope was tied to the spike – a rope he gripped firmly with gloved hands before facing the cliff side and stepping backward. He rappelled the remaining seventy feet, moving down the cliffside with ease until he reached the ground. Chuli then climbed down the cleft, grabbed the rope, and stepped out into air.

  Her heart fluttered as she dropped eight feet, her gloved hands gripping the rope while her feet found a small ledge. Again, and again, she lowered herself in leaps, sliding down the rope until she joined Thiron on the canyon floor. The sun had not yet crested the ridge, and the shadow-covered area was still cold.

  Thiron led Chuli toward the buildings and tents housing the four hundred eighty five soldiers who survived the battle at Hipoint.

  It had been dark when Thiron and Chuli had left camp for their scouting mission. At the time, the only others who had been awake were the guards on watch, some on top of the wall and others roaming the grounds. Now, however, the entire camp had come to life.

  A regiment of a hundred infantry followed along as Sergeant Rios ran them through drills. Others poured from the mess hall, having finished breakfast and waiting their turn to run drills. Thiron ignored it all as he headed toward the old guard barracks, which now served as the officers quarters and as camp headquarters.

  The building interior was noticeably warmer than the camp outside. However, once the sun crested the ridge, it would grow much warmer outside, making the building a pleasant shelter from the dry heat.

  Captain Marcella was seated at the old table they had found, looking over notes and maps spread out before her. In her thirties, the woman was tall and intense with red hair and green eyes. The other person in the room shared her hair color, eye color, and pale complexion, but his personality could not have been more different.

  “What’s with the grim face, Thiron?” Jonah smiled. “Oh. Wait. That’s how you always look.”

  Thiron glared at Jonah momentarily before turning to Marcella, who sat back in her chair.

  “Did you have anything to report?” the captain asked.

  “Unfortunately, yes,” Thiron said as he pulled a chair out and sat across from her. “An Imperial scout was on the ridge trail. He left, heading south. Without a doubt, he will return to Hipoint with a full report.”

  A grimace pulled on Marcella’s mouth as she sat in silence, clearly considering the impact of Thiron’s report. “What would you do if you were in charge of the men stationed in Hipoint?”

  Thiron’s hawk-like eyes narrowed in thought. “From our scouting trip, we know they outnumber us six to one, perhaps worse if they have added troops. They likely know this as well. In addition, they have two dozen catapults at their disposal and undoubtedly are well stocked with flashbombs.

  “Knowing all this, they are sure to attack our compound. They will eventually march west to attack Wayport or to advance on Fallbrandt. When they do, they cannot afford to have us harry them from behind.”

  “My thought as well,” Marcella nodded. “They know our position and also know they possess the superior force.”

  “They had the same advantages at Hipoint,” Jonah said. “Yet, we lost a few dozen soldiers and they lost over a thousand.”

  “Do you believe they will fall for a trap again?”

  “Well, no. I guess not.”

  Thiron suggested, “Perhaps we should run, stay out in front of them?”

  Marcella nodded. “That makes sense. We would lose our defensible position, but what defense can we muster against their weapons? Once their flashbombs destroy the wall, they would rush us, and we would be trapped with nowhere to go except the mining tunnels. It would be a death sentence.” A knock came from the door and Marcella replied, “Come in.”

  A young man entered and thumped his fist to his chest. Chuli recognized the soldier who Marcella had sent to Wayport with a message for Duke Chadwick.

  “I apologize about the interruption, Captain.”

  “Don’t worry about it, soldier. What news do you have to share?”

  His gaze swept the room, briefly eyeing each of them. The behavior seemed odd, as if he were deciding how openly he should speak. Finally, he faced Marcella and told his story.

  “After leaving here, I rode straight for Wayport. When I arrived, it was late so I chose to stay at an inn for a night. In truth, I longed for a hot meal, a pint of ale, and a soft bed. My decision turned out to be fortuitous.

  “As often happens in taprooms, whispered rumors joined the stories and laughter of the patrons. More than once, I overheard people mentioning Wayport as part of the Empire, and they wondered what the future held for the city. I casually asked the barkeep and received a similar response, albeit a brief one. After a few attempts of striking conversations with others, there was little more I learned. My sleep that night was troubled. When I rose the next day, I decided to investigate further rather than attempt to meet with the duke. I soon discover
ed it was worse than I feared.

  “Chadwick has turned traitor, pledging his forces and the city to the Empire. In addition, he has King Pretencia and others held captive. They were to be publicly executed as traitors the day after I left the city – two days ago.”

  Everyone in the room stared at the soldier, stunned.

  “That eliminates the option of running to Wayport,” Jonah said, breaking the silence.

  Marcella smoothed her red hair, her brow furrowed in thought. “Chadwick is executing a king in public. Clearly, there is motive behind it, likely to inspire others to his cause while instilling fear of anyone turning against him.” She nodded to herself. “Jonah is correct. We cannot go to Wayport.”

  “Do we head north, into the mountains?” Chuli asked.

  Thiron shook his head. “Winter lingers there, as does snow, even in the Greenway valley floor. We are ill equipped for those conditions.”

  Chuli imagined the death and destruction the Imperial Army would bring upon them. Even with Jonah’s magic, the only arcanist in camp, there was little hope of surviving or even causing the opposition enough pain to make a difference. The scenario left her wishing she could just hide. She gasped as the idea clicked into place.

  “What if we remain here?”

  “What?” Jonah was incredulous. “We’ll be dead for sure.”

  “If running before they can organize an attack is the logical thing to do, isn’t that also what they might expect?”

  Marcella crossed her arms while she stared at Chuli. “I suppose, but what is your point, soldier?”

  Chuli explained her plan. It was risky, but if things worked out, it would give them an advantage. Outnumbered and facing superior weapons, they would need any help they could get. The thought stirred another idea, one she was well suited to execute.

  12

  Truth and Lies

  An unarmed man from the city watch stood before Queen Ashland, replying to each question as she interrogated him. Curan DeSanus remained wary during the entire process, ready in case any falsehood was spoken or undetected weapons emerged. Both had occurred with other guards over the past three days. None who had pulled a weapon survived. The orders from Wharton were clear: protect the queen at all costs.

  With each response from the man, Curan felt a pleasant wave of rightness wash over him. Of this, he was thankful. A false answer before a charged Truth rune was distasteful at best, and some of the lies had been strong enough to cause Curan to vomit. Once finished with questioning the guard, the Queen dismissed the man, and Wharton escorted him out through a door where two armed guards waited.

  They were finally nearing the end of the ordeal, having first examined every guard assigned to the citadel before moving on to those who worked the Kantar city watch. The process had been interesting at first, but Curan now found it taxing. Not only did lies taste vile, the guilty might attack rather than run.

  Curan glanced toward the throne where Ashland sat. She seemed weary but determined. She leaned forward and exposed the long tear down the padded back of the throne – a reminder of Magistrate Filbert’s attempted coup. The man’s poisoned blade had narrowly missed the queen during the skirmish. Filbert’s failed attempt to kill Ashland had cost him his life and the lives of the two dozen guards who had aligned with his agenda. It had been a close thing, a traumatic moment for Curan, giving him his first taste of battle. Worse, Wharton had almost died in the process.

  As the thought crossed Curan’s mind, Wharton reappeared, escorting a tall, lanky guard down the throne room’s center aisle. Like the others, the man was dressed in black leather with gold and red trim, the metal plates on his shoulders, chest, and bracers tinted with a golden hue. Curan wore a similar uniform, as did any Kantarian soldier. However, the guard’s helmet had been confiscated, along with his weapons.

  When Wharton drew close, he stopped just before the red carpet ended. A six-foot section of carpet had been removed, creating a gap between where the man stood and the dais. A painted rune eight feet in diameter occupied the gap. The man warily eyed the rune.

  “Step a bit closer,” Ashland said.

  Hesitating a moment, he did as asked, stopping in the center of the Truth rune before giving her a shallow bow. “Yes, my Queen.”

  Ashland studied the man for a moment before speaking. “Please, state your name.”

  “My name is Malik Shurig.”

  A wave of pleasure ran through Curan. As expected, Malik blinked and looked around in confusion after he undoubtedly experienced the same feeling.

  Ashland smiled. “Good. You feel the truth of your statement. I understand that you are assigned to the city watch.”

  The man nodded.

  “I’m sorry, but I require a verbal response.”

  “Yes, my queen,” Malik replied. “I work the city watch.”

  “Thank you.” She folded her hands on her lap, her smile fading. “Are you loyal to me, and to the crown of Kantaria?”

  He stammered. “Yes…Of course.”

  Revulsion roiled in Curan’s stomach, and a red hue briefly darkened the room. The man winced.

  “Your lie tastes of bile, Malik.” Ashland leaned forward, her glare intense. “I must know, do you seek to betray your queen?”

  Malik’s eyes flicked around the room and sweat began to bead on his forehead. “I…I would never do such a thing.”

  The sickness hit again, so intense Curan thought he might vomit. Malik clutched his stomach and doubled-over.

  “What are you doing to me?” the man asked between clenched teeth.

  Ashland sat back with a sneer on her face. “You do this to yourself, Malik. Lies in the presence of a Truth rune are as revolting as discovering a traitor masked as a supporter.”

  Malik’s stubble-covered face paled, his eyes growing wild. “But, I would never betray you…”

  The man’s hand clenched his stomach as he doubled over again. Suddenly, he bolted toward the door at the side of the room. Curan was ready. He lunged forward and swept a long leg, hooking the man’s foot and sending him sprawling. Without pause, Curan landed with a knee on Malik’s back, driving the wind from the guard and pinning him to the floor. Curan then clamped a shackle to Malik’s right wrist, pulling the man’s arm back to meet the other. Once shackled, he climbed off the man and hoisted him to his feet. The other castle guards ran in, grabbed the man, and escorted him from the room.

  When the doors closed behind them, the Queen sat back in her throne. “That was the last of them?”

  Wharton drew closer, nodding. “Yes, my Queen.”

  Her face was a grimace. “I find it quite disturbing to discover these vermin in our midst. How many have we found?”

  Wharton ran his hand through is long dark hair and sighed. “Malik brings the total to seven traitors among the city watch, in addition to the three we found in the citadel itself. Of those ten, four are dead.”

  Wharton glanced at Curan as he ended the sentence. Those four traitors had attempted to kill the queen when exposed. As a result, those men had discovered how quick Curan was with his blade. Their faces lingered in his nightmares.

  “Ten, and that’s after the lot who died in the attack led by Filbert.” She stared into space with a frown. “I wish I had considered using the Truth rune and interrogating every guard before the attack. Perhaps Ned would still be alive.”

  “He was a good man. Honest, reliable, and skilled.” Wharton rubbed his goatee. “If only I had two dozen more like him.”

  “You’ll need half that number to fill the recent openings. We can use the same process to sort through candidates to find ones we can trust.”

  Wharton nodded. “Yes, my Queen.”

  “In addition, I must consider what to do with the guards we just imprisoned. I hesitate to execute them when they have done nothing wrong other than think traitorous thoughts. On the other hand, if we banish them, they might return under another identity and cause trouble.”

  “As Kin
g Brock often said, the crown is a burden few would wish to carry.”

  “So true,” Ashland said with a sigh. She then turned toward Curan, her eyes narrowing. “I am thankful Cassie sent you here, Curan. If not for your help, Wharton and I would both be dead and Filbert would sit in my place.”

  “I merely followed my training and did my best, your Majesty,” Curan said. “Your magic is what made it possible.”

  “Nonsense. You deserve my thanks and more.” She rose from the throne and stood before him, her head tilted up to meet his gaze. “I believe that Wharton and I now have things well in hand. Since those with betrayal in their hearts have been removed, extra protection is unwarranted. In addition, Kantar resides far from the true threat, one that could extend its reach even this far if not thwarted.

  “I, again, thank you, but it is time for you to return to the Ward.”

  Curan frowned. “You are sending me away?”

  “Yes. You are too valuable an asset to remain here. War is coming, and every able body will help, especially a warrior trained to fight when augmented by magic.” She turned and returned to her seat on the throne. “Pack your things, get a good night of sleep, and depart for Fallbrandt in the morning.”

  13

  More Than a Dream

  Cassilyn Talenz willed herself toward the glowing blue Order symbol and beyond, into the realm of dreams as she had come to call it. Bubbles surrounded her in every direction, near and distant, appearing like so many stars in the black void of the realm. She focused her thoughts toward Elias Firellus, hoping to replicate the success she had when searching for her mother’s dream. The world around her warped and settled, leaving her surrounded by another set of bubbles.

  She gazed into the nearest bubble, its surface swirling with dark blues, aquas, and a hint of pink. Fingers first, Cassie slid her hands into the bubble as if parting waters in a pool, and stuck her head inside.