Fallen Empire

by Keith McArdle

  The guards came to a halt in front of him and then the formation split down the centre, half the guards marching to the left, the others to the right.

  “Kneel.” The whispered word came from behind him.

  Blake recalled what was required and he dropped to his knees and bowed his head.

  “I take it you have a message for me, son?”

  Blake looked up at King Fillip. Steely blue eyes stared at him, and although the monarch’s bare forearms were criss-crossed with old scars where knives, swords or arrows had scored the flesh, his face remained free from such marks.

  Not just a warrior king, but a skilful one.

  “Aye, my liege.”

  The king leaned forward, unblinking eyes boring into Blake. “Well, what’s the message?”

  “Forgive me my lord, I forget myself.” Blake took a deep breath and then began recounting the tale of recent events at Lisfort and the number of guards, King’s Own and civilians who’d lost their lives to the onslaught of spiders and wolves.

  King Fillip leaned back, passing a hand through his long, dark beard. “I’ve heard old stories about The Waning Wood. I’ve listened to men who stated they’d been there, sole survivors of scouting parties. I thought them to be mind hurt. But perhaps not.” He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, all the while, piercing eyes boring into Blake. “Perhaps not. And if this is to be believed, what would you expect me to do, other than rejoice?” He grinned.

  “I do not pretend to know the will of my liege.”

  “What would you do diplomat, were you in my place?”

  Blake forced himself to look into those flint hard eyes. “Me sire?” he cleared his throat, nervous tension clenching his entrails. “I’d invade.”

  King Fillip’s eyes narrowed. “Would you?”

  “Aye, sire.”

  “I like how you think, diplomat. How long did you spend in Wendurlund territory?”

  “Five summers, sire.”

  The king stood and descended the few stairs to stand before Blake. “If you’ve spent so long in enemy territory, how do I know you’re not now an agent for them? How do I know you’re not organising some ambush where my forces will be caught out in the open mid-march and destroyed?”

  How could he even question my loyalty? I would bleed for Huron.

  “I am loyal to Huron, my lord, now and always. You have my word. But if that’s not enough for you, your guard commander carries proof of my word.”

  When King Fillip turned to the guard commander, the man placed the package on the ground at the feet of the monarch, unbound the ties and unwrapped it, before leaning back.

  King Fillip squatted in front of the opened parcel. “Fascinating.”

  “It is part of the leg of one of the giant spiders.”

  The guard commander leaned further back, although his eyes remained fixed upon the long, black object, thick as a grown man’s leg.

  The king looked up at the commander and chuckled. He waved a hand at him. “Stand easy, Garx.”

  The commander scrambled to his feet and stepped away from the arachnid’s leg, disgust etched upon his face. “Thank you my lord.”

  Blake had been careful to amputate the limb to include one of the joints.

  King Fillip slammed both hands onto the amputated leg and held it up for close inspection. As he turned it, the lower half bent at the joint and Blake flinched away.

  The monarch burst into laughter. “Nothing to fear diplomat. It cannot hurt you.” When he’d finished looking at the limb, he dropped it.

  “Thank you for bringing it to me. Now I do believe your word.” He returned his piercing glare to Blake. “But I don’t trust you.”

  Blake held out his hands. “What must I do to win your trust, my liege?”

  “Nothing. Guards! Take him into the town square and behead him.”

  What felt like a red-hot spike stabbed through his guts as realisation dawned on him. “My liege?” rough hands slammed onto Blake’s shoulders and he felt himself being dragged to his feet. “My liege! Please, I am loyal to you, now and always!”

  “You spent five years in enemy territory convincing my enemy of your loyalty to them, and to remain there for such time, you must have done a good job.” King Fillip ascended the dais and sat upon the throne. His piercing glare came to rest upon Blake once more. The guards holding him in place must have been aware of the muscles in his legs and arms quivering. “If you could do to them what you have done today, what is to stop you from doing the same thing to me and my kingdom?”

  “Sire.” Blake licked dry lips with a parched tongue. “Sire…I…I, just give me a cha –”

  Fillip gestured to the guards. “Take him away. Give him a swift death.”

  Warm liquid soaked Blake’s pants and ran down his legs, the pungent aroma of piss reaching his nose moments later. With leg muscles refusing to bear his weight, the guards dragged him out of the throne room.

  “Please Gods, no! I beg you!”

  He was unaware of the curious stares of those waiting to seek attendance with the king as he was half-carried through the royal chamber. Blake was oblivious as he was guided in silence down the street towards the portcullis. He pleaded with the guards, tears, saliva and snot dripping from his chin onto his shirt.

  “Please Gods. Help me!” he screamed, spittle exploding from his lips. “Help me!”

  Before he knew it, he was forced to his knees in the centre of a large square, where passers-by stopped to stare. The last words he’d ever hear were muttered from somewhere behind him.

  “I’m sorry diplomat,” and then, “make it quick.”

  He heard a sword drawn, followed by a faint, metallic whistle as blade cut air. Then all went black.

  * * *

  Fillip relaxed upon the throne and tapped an armrest, staring down at the motionless, amputated limb of the spider.

  The beast must have been massive in life! Imagine facing that in battle.

  The door to the throne room groaned open and the guards marched in, one of them splattered in fresh blood. Fillip smiled.

  That didn’t take long at all!

  “Garx!”

  The guard commander came to a halt before him. “Yes sir?”

  “Dismiss all others waiting to see me. Gather my senior officers and have them meet me here inside the hour.”

  “Sir, at once.”

  Garx turned and with a few whispered words of command, had his troop marching back out the way they had entered.

  Fillip’s eyes returned to the amputated limb.

  Tomorrow, we march for Lisfort.

  X

  Vyder lay upon the soft blanket, hands behind his head. He watched patches of night sky through the forest canopy high above. The stars seemed to duck and weave as a soft breeze teased branches and brushed against leaves. The side of his body closest the campfire was soaked with warmth.

  He closed his eyes and listened to a tiny, distant drum beating at an incredible pace. The soft noise seemed to be drifting down from the trees.

  You hear that, too Vyder?

  He nodded.

  It is the heartbeat of a sparrow. She is nestled on a branch up there. She will sleep there tonight.

  He felt one arm move, seemingly of its own accord and he opened his eyes to see his finger point into the blackness above him. It was a strange feeling.

  Can you see her?

  “No,” he whispered.

  Your night vision will improve the longer I remain with you, I think. Give it time.

  A soft hiss streaked through the treetops nearby.

  Close your eyes, Vyder, I want to show you something.

  The flickering, yellow shrubs and bushes closest the fire disappeared behind his eyelids. He felt light, like he was floating and then his stomach lurched into his throat as he felt himself rushing upward. Then he was soaring, his arms outstretched either side of him, controlling his glide.<
br />
  Now open your eyes.

  The forest came into view below him. He glanced to one side and flinched as he saw a feathered wing where an arm should have been.

  Have you ever been an owl before?

  “No.” At least he intended to speak the word, but no sound followed other than the hiss of air rolling past his ears.

  I thought not. Only your most powerful wiccans are capable of this skill.

  Vyder felt elation as the forest slid by beneath them. He found he could focus upon areas of leaf littered ground, even from the great height they found themselves. He watched insects flitting from leaf to leaf and sensed a rabbit hidden amongst the safe confines of a small shrub. He twisted and attempted to make the bird bank to the right, but the predator continued flying straight.

  You cannot control him, Vyder. Think of it as we are with the owl, not in control of him. We can see what he sees, but that is all. He still decides where he does or does not travel.

  The owl banked one way, changed direction just as rapidly and then tucked its wings in and plummeted towards the ground. Vyder panicked as he watched trees rush past and then noticed the rat upon which the bird swooped.

  Time to leave before we travel too far from your body.

  Vyder felt himself ripped sideways and then flying through the night sky faster than he thought even possible. He jerked awake and sucked in a deep breath. Sitting up, heart racing, he looked around and noticed Endessa nearby, her back to him as she tended the fire.

  “Having fun?” she asked without turning.

  He moved to her, legs feeling weak and sluggish and sat beside her. He watched her throw a log onto the fire and use a long thin stick to push it further into the heart of the blaze.

  “Gorgoroth said powerful Wiccans can travel with animals as well.”

  She shrugged and nodded.

  “Can you?”

  “It’s known as shape shifting. People who don’t know any better think that we turn into the form of a beast, but that’s not entirely true.”

  “So you can?”

  Endessa turned to him, her cheek closest the fire flickering orange, the other half of her face hidden by darkness. “You sound surprised, Vyder.”

  “Not at all.” He fell silent and watched the flames darting around the fresh log, the underside beginning to blacken.

  “You should get some rest, Vyder. You will be tired after your night flight. It takes a lot out of you in the beginning.”

  Only if you’re human.

  “The thing I don’t understand, is it would be much more handy if I could control the animal. Say if, oh I don’t know, let’s say for argument’s sake I was hunting for the King’s son who’d been taken prisoner by the enemy. It’d make my mission much easier.”

  Endessa returned her attention to the fire and grinned, her teeth flashing in the dull light.

  “Oh you can.”

  Shutup Wiccan!

  “But Gorgoroth may not want you to, for fear of injuring the animal. He may allow you to later, but for now listen to him. He may allow you to take control of the animal in question once your understanding has progressed beyond the rudimentary knowledge of shape shifting.”

  “Hang on! Didn’t Gorgoroth use thousands of animals to besiege Lisfort? I imagine hundreds upon hundreds of them were killed in the process? Not to mention the number of people slaughtered in the process. And he’s concerned I’ll hurt one animal?”

  Wiping out evil, especially an evil threatening my children is no bad thing.

  “You must understand the way of Gorgoroth. He loves the animals of The Waning Wood, or his children as he calls them, above all else. Using them to remove a direct threat to them, perceived or real, is satisfactory in his mind.”

  She knows me too well.

  “If you’ve killed Miriam, this entire mission ends tonight.”

  Relax little man. My children barely made it past the walls. The horse warriors they faced were exceptional. I grew to like those soldiers in the end. They’d die to protect one another, their loved ones and the city they held so sacred. An ideal I understand.

  “Not all humans are evil, Gorgoroth,” Vyder said, flicking a stick into the fire, sending several sparks toward the night sky.

  I am beginning to see that, human.

  “He seems much calmer.” Endessa turned back to him. “Gorgoroth I mean.”

  Vyder felt himself speaking with no ability to control it. “We have come to an understanding.” It was an odd feeling to hear the deep, resonant voice devoid of the Highland accent with which he’d spoken since he was a bairn.

  “I’m not sure if I’m needed here much longer. My only concern’s will you go back to your old ways the next village we happen upon? Will you use the creatures of the forest to wipe the villagers from existence?”

  Vyder felt anger flash through him, unbidden, then his lips began moving again. “I am tempted, Wiccan, I’ll not lie to you. But as you have been saying since the first day, not all of you monkeys are evil.”

  “And what or who changed your mind, Gorgoroth?”

  Vyder relaxed and allowed the nature spirit to speak.

  “It might sound strange, Wiccan.” Vyder felt his shoulders move up and down in a shrug. “But the soldiers who fought to defend their city against my children.”

  “The Wendurlund Army?”

  “I don’t know. All I know is they fought from horseback mostly and were near unstoppable.”

  Endessa chuckled and nodded. “Ah.” She stared into the fire, her eyes twinkling a faint orange. “The King’s Own. The elite warriors tasked with protecting the king’s life.” She prodded the fire again, sparks crackling to life, drifting skyward in gentle tumbles. “Some call them the Horse Lords. No matter their name, arrayed in battle, the enemy centre will avoid closing with them at all costs.”

  “I can see why.”

  “They are only a small unit, but most agree that even though they are few in number, they are the finest soldiers in the world.”

  Vyder remained silent, intrigued by the conversation between Gorgoroth and Endessa.

  “But it was not just their skill in battle, but the revered way in which they treated their dead. As if they were their own family. I’ve never seen that before, Endessa. It gave me pause.”

  “I’ll say it now and I’ll say it until I’m blue in the face, Gorgoroth. Not –”

  “Not all people are evil,” he finished. “I know Endessa, I was hearing you say that earlier, but I wasn’t listening. Now I understand what you mean. You have my word, Wiccan. I shall not harm another human that does not deserve death’s call. Is that fair?”

  Endessa nodded. “That is fair, nature spirit.”

  Vyder felt Gorgoroth drift from the fore and feeling returned to him, his arms and legs tingling. He cleared his throat and coughed.

  Endessa smiled. “Back with us I see, Vyder?”

  “Aye, it’d appear so.”

  “I keep forgetting how thick your Highland accent is until I hear Gorgoroth speak.”

  “Some people find it hard to understand me.”

  “Show’s how poorly travelled some are. My first husband was a Highlander.”

  Vyder looked at her and noticed the distant look in her eyes as she gazed at the burning log.

  “I’m sorry to hear that. Was he young when he died?”

  She blinked, dragged in a deep breath and looked at him. “No, not at all. Death claimed him just shy of his eightieth summer.”

  “How many times have you been wed?”

  She cleared her throat, leaned to one side and spat into the dark forest. “Five times. All dead now. All claimed by Father Time.” She watched sparks spiralling upward. “He is a harsh bastard that one,” she whispered.

  Vyder was not good at numbers, never had been, but he was astute enough to know that the sums didn’t add up.

  “Wait. How old are you?”

&nb
sp; She smiled, but chose to ignore the question.

  Older than she looks little human, that much I can tell you.

  “Time for me to sleep, Vyder. Get some rest, you’ll need it in the coming days and weeks.”

  He lay back, and stared up at the few stars he could see beyond the forest canopy.

  There is a fox nearby, assassin. Have you ever run fast as a bolt of lightning through a forest in the dark of night?

  Vyder smiled and closed his eyes. “No.”

  Would you like to?

  “Why not?”

  * * *

  As morning sunlight lanced through the canopy, they broke their fast in silence. Vyder chewed on salted meat, staring with nonchalance into the forest’s depths. Movement broke his reverie and he watched Endessa hurl a chicken bone away, before standing and kicking dirt onto the already deceased fire.

  “Time for me to go. The comfort of my cave calls for me.”

  He stuffed the last of the food into his mouth and stood, watching her pack away what little belongings she owned.

  The Wiccan moved fast. She’d already rolled up her sleeping blanket and placed it away in a saddle bag. She saddled her horse and mounted, looking down at the highlander.

  “I bid you farewell, Vyder.”

  He stepped forward. “Thank you, Endessa, for all you’ve done.”

  She nodded and swung the horse away, but paused. She looked over her shoulder at him. “Your promise is still solid, Gorgoroth?”

  Vyder felt a strange floating feeling and his body went numb. He spoke without meaning to, Gorgoroth’s deep, gravel voice issuing from his mouth. “My word is my bond, Wiccan, it is solid until beyond the end of time.”

  “Good.”

  “But if a human deserves death’s visit, I promise I will arrange the meeting.” Vyder felt his lips widen into a smile. “However, I will not take the life of another innocent monkey.”