Embrace of the Medusi (The Overlords Trilogy Book 2)

by Toby Andersen

  Aurelia sighed. She understood all too well. ‘What you describe is tempting. Live a new life without responsibility, get out while I have the chance. I suppose it could be seen as an opportunity, but Chrys, if I took it I'd be betraying my people, letting them die in servitude to that insane sorceress. It’s not about having someone to rule. I have a responsibility to those people. I have abandoned them, and the way I can justify that, the only way, is to work tirelessly to find a solution, to build an army to take back the city and liberate them. It’s about responsibility. You betray your own beliefs in your suggestion of what I should do. Did you not want me to prove worthy of your service? You said you had masters who proved false. I am trying not to prove false, that’s exactly what I’m doing, yet you want me to turn my back on that?’

  ‘You’re too obvious, too earnest,’ said Chrysaora, then more quietly, ‘You’ll get killed.’

  Aurelia couldn’t quite believe how much Chrysaora had been bottling up, so many disparate feelings, so much that contradicted itself. It was no surprise she had been distant.

  ‘It’s possible,’ she said, ‘but I have to try anyway. I owe it to my people. I have to fight Noctiluca somehow, and this is the only way I know how.’

  She was reminded of the dreams her sister Cassandra had sent her, of a dark and ancient sorceress speaking directly into her mind, destroying all thought. She had magic, power, an army of enslaving creatures, a cult that followed her and did her bidding. How did you fight that? How did you think you could win? She really had no idea, but she knew that there would be no way without an army at her back.

  She wasn’t sure if she had convinced Chrysaora, the woman was unreadable sometimes. But she hoped they could be civil. She resented having to prove herself, but still found herself wondering what she could do to bring the woman around.

  *

  Despite their words, Aurelia spent the next few hours wandering to the front of the procession, past the bulk of the soldiery who had been halted and told to hold position. She was curious. What was causing the hold up? She was impatient to move on, and reach Argentor beyond the mountains. The air was chill and the land here was elevated, allowing for a view back the way they’d come that sobered her. She could see Theris so far in the distance as to be just a spec on the coast now. She could see the river meandering back towards it, and thought of Cassandra waiting for Totelun on the near bank. Was this the last time she’d see the Theris basin?

  She marvelled at how far she’d come. For a young woman who had never ventured out of the city of her birth, this was something of an adventure. Remaining in disguise, hiding in plain view from generals and commanders who would have her killed, she was like one of the adventurers that her teacher Ennius used to speak of, uncovering and mapping the extents of the continents so many centuries ago.

  Aurelia knew she could be discovered at any time; she could be killed, or arrested once she reached Argentor, and never see Theris again. It was the most likely course. At that moment the world seemed a large place, and the success of one young girl against it seemed insurmountable.

  She turned and climbed the steep road past the halted soldiers. No one took any notice of a dirty camp follower and she thought she could probably get a good view of the front and whatever the problem was, without getting herself in trouble.

  The afternoon was turning to a dusky evening as she reached the top and could see into the mountain city the other side. Ambrinor was a broken shell of its former self. Deserted as far as any could see, scattered with broken buildings like the protruding bones of a subterranean skeleton, the city was dusty and quiet. Her appraisal came to an abrupt end as she saw a commotion ahead. Was this what had halted the column?

  She crept forward, not out of sight, but beneath the notice of the nobles gathered in the road. There was one man dressed in a filthy uniform on the ground, surrounded by a group of officers. Aurelia quickly checked each face, looking for the duke himself, but he wasn’t present. They seemed to be having an argument about what to do with the man.

  ‘Is he a defector or a bandit?’ said one of the officers. He was clearly confused by the battered uniform.

  ‘There should be a garrison here,’ said a second. ‘The Duke left men to gather food and supplies from the local area.’

  ‘And to keep the city road clear for supplies to the front lines.’

  ‘Then where are they?’ said the first. He was closest to the man on the ground and took the opportunity to hit him. ‘Where is the garrison?’

  Aurelia was surprised when she heard a woman’s voice and stopped to look. ‘We have not seen a supply convoy for some weeks now. We need to question him, not kill him.’

  ‘We don’t need your fragile compassion here, Marchioli.’

  ‘Maybe not, but we need supplies. We are running exceptionally low. Especially with all the hangers-on.’

  The first officer produced a handheld pistol, much like the one Duke Lepitern had shown Aurelia in the palace gardens. He placed it against the man’s temple. ‘It quite clear what has happened. Bandits have overwhelmed the garrison, and cut off supplies. He has stolen a soldier’s uniform. He needs to be made an example of. Then we root out the rest of them.’

  Aurelia’s slow progress brought her up behind the woman, Marchioli. She stood straight, and just acted as if she’d been there the whole time. If they needed food, this man would know where any was to be found. She also didn’t want him killed. Any man who was a bandit, or had any previous affiliation with this city was her responsibility. Her father had torched the place during his retreat almost three years ago towards the end of his great war. The situation this young man found himself in was due in no small part due to her family.

  As she drew level with the woman, she spoke in low tones. ‘Perhaps instead of death he could lead our scouts to the stolen supplies.’

  The woman looked at her. Dark wavy hair tousled down one side of her head to her shoulder. She was at least Chrysaora’s age if not another decade. Her eyes showed a deep intelligence and coldly calculated what Aurelia had said. Aurelia saw she wasn’t just discounting it because it came from a dirty child.

  ‘Yes,’ she said turning to the other officers, ‘force him to lead us to his accomplices and the supplies. We get the supplies we need without further trouble or delay.’

  The officer scowled, but he did as instructed. Whatever rank this woman held it was higher than his. Where is the Duke? Aurelia wondered again.

  ‘Arrest them instead of killing them,’ she said, trying her luck. ‘Any bandits will be Ambrinor men, who opposed Emperor Tiber during the war.’

  The Marchioli woman studied her, and Aurelia wondered if she had gone one step too far, or if her noble voice had been too apparent, but the woman repeated her suggestion as her own, adding, ‘The enemy of our enemy is our friend.’

  The officers grunted in disapproval, but moved to carry out the orders. The battered man was hoisted to his feet and made to understand the situation. He would live, if he would cooperate.

  By the time Marchioli looked back to find the girl with all the ideas, Aurelia had snuck back out of sight. She saw the woman look around in confusion, before giving up and striding off with the soldiers.

  Aurelia was pleased. She had saved the man’s life and possibly helped solve a logistical supplies problem for the army. They would make better time, and she would reach Argentor faster. More importantly Chrysaora couldn’t argue she hadn’t demonstrated just a little bit of the behaviour of a worthy ruler.

  And she hadn’t been caught.

  *

  After dark, Aurelia lay awake in their shared tent. The army had moved further up and even the stragglers and whores were encamped in the city’s boundary. Scouts kept watch for a retaliatory strike from the bandits, but none had come so far. The whole camp had eaten well that evening for the first time in a week, the supplies convoy having been found and distributed, some of it even reaching their lowly tents.

  Aurel
ia couldn’t sleep. She was pleased with her actions, even though Chrysaora had thought it an unnecessary risk. Just that small action had made her feel more like herself than she had for the last week. She hoped she wouldn’t end up regretting it.

  The silence of the camp was too much, almost like a noise in itself. It was stopping her getting to sleep.

  She decided that another reason she felt so unlike herself was that she had not communicated with Cassandra during that whole week. They hadn’t left each other on the best of terms, Aurelia stalking off to follow the army, and Cassandra waiting by the river for Naus and possibly his ward Totelun to return.

  She could admit to herself now that she’d felt betrayed, but after a week she no longer cared, she just wanted to talk to her sister.

  Cass, she tried, intoning the words inside her mind, pushing them out through the telepathic link she shared with her twin. Since they were tiny children they had communicated this way, worrying their mother that they might be mute.

  Can’t sleep? came the reply. She could hear Cassandra’s voice in her mind, though neither of them spoke aloud. It’s the middle of the night.

  She was so pleased to hear her sister’s voice, and that she wasn’t upset with her, she almost forgot to respond. Her sister’s words were accompanied by a wash of emotion that buoyed her up and consoled her.

  I missed you. I wish you were here.

  I am with you always, Relia.

  I thought you hated me.

  Remember what I said. In here, when we communicate like this, we can never lie to one another. One glimpse would have told you I love you always.

  I’m sorry I left, Aurelia sent, feeling guilty all over again.

  You had to, intoned Cassandra. Aurelia felt the genuine warmth. How is your adventure? Are you in Argentor yet?

  No, Aurelia sent back. We are stopped in Ambrinor. I have seen no sign of the Duke, and I wear the disguise of a dead soldier.

  You didn’t think gaining an army would be easy, did you? At least you have not been found.

  And what of you? asked Aurelia. It has been a week.

  I am safe, Cassandra assured her. I have raided the nearby buildings of supplies. A little cheese and dried meat. It’s enough.

  I hope they get back to you soon.

  I must trust that our new allies are capable and truthful.

  No news?

  There has been no sign of Totelun or Nausithorn, or indeed anyone else through the Cephean network. Cassandra had been away from Theris palace for a year, sold by their father to the Order of the Medousa, and returned once she had been thralled to one of their strange sensory Cephean Medusi. Any person thralled to a Cephean could hear anything that any other Cephean heard on a vast magical network with no boundaries. Aurelia supposed it was the same with their telepathic connection. Proximity had never been a factor.

  The Cephean were the tool of the Order, their spies and informants. In theory anything the Cepheans heard, Cassandra heard also. And now I wait, she continued. I am alone in a tiny farmstead. She fell silent for a moment, then continued. I dream about them. Do you remember I said I had begun to have visions? I see things that are yet to come.

  What have you seen?

  She just came straight out with it. Totelun dying in a torture chamber at the hands of High Cleric Harling. I keep seeing it over and over and I can’t shake it. He’s going to die in there. I should have come with you.

  Aurelia had not anticipated it but Cassandra had needed to speak to her as much as she had needed to speak to Cassandra. Maybe more so. And her sister had been just as stubborn as she had, waiting a whole week. She felt guilty at leaving her there, in a moment of pique, when she should have insisted her sister join her. She tried to console her sister.

  You told me what you see is what may yet come, not what is. I only knew them a short time, but they were both strong. They had come such a long way. Nausithorn refused to come with me in order to go back into the city for Totelun. They will survive, and they will join you soon.

  I know you believe that, intoned Cassandra, I can feel it. But you could be wrong.

  I could be, but so could you.

  Aurelia felt her sister’s wave of relief. You’re right. Thank you. These visions are so new, I don’t know how to deal with them.

  You can always talk to me, said Aurelia. It was nice to be needed for once. Chrysaora was such an independent force of nature.

  I will. Good night, ‘Relia.

  Good night, Cass.

  *

  She woke to cold air blowing into the tent making her shiver. The tent flap was open and bright morning light streamed in making her squint.

  ‘Up!’ A male voice shouted. ‘Get up!’

  Her bed roll was unceremoniously ripped away, and she saw two large officers, one with multiple medals.

  ‘What is going on?’ she shouted indignantly.

  ‘Get dressed, now,’ said the one who was clearly in charge.

  She knew travelling with the camp was dangerous, but with the easy abundance of whores, rape was actually quite rare.

  ‘What have I done?’ She looked across at Chrysaora, who was also being turfed out of bed, blinking.

  It was then that she saw the dark haired female officer from the day before, the one who seemed to have a role in the army’s logistics management. Marchioli. She stood just outside watching through the gap.

  The male officer leaned in. ‘It might be quicker to say what you have not done, Empress Aurelia Nectris.’

  Chapter Three

  Nausithorn

  It was true; the only places Nausithorn ever felt truly comfortable were dirty dangerous bars where an ill-judged glance could get you glassed. The elderly drifter had patronised a thousand taverns, run down watering holes and rich gentlemen’s clubs in well over a hundred different towns and cities during his extensive span, and had not yet found one he didn’t like. He couldn’t even remember them all.

  He was the ancient nomad, forever wandering, never in a single place for long. Bars suited his lifestyle. You could be someone new in every port, in every new dive; no one knew who you were, no one knew your past. In some small towns he was a rumour, an old legend with a seed of truth at the centre, the old man in the corner, who’d been old since the other patrons were children, since their grandparents had been children. He had learnt to roam, to space out his visits, so as not to stoke the flames of rumour. He remembered the Abbess of Dinsk had recognised him, an old man who had visited the temple when she was a child, and she was in her ember years when they met again. People lived such brief and frantic lives, like a flare of bright phosphorous, gone again as quickly as it appeared.

  Or so it was when you had lived for over a thousand years.

  He drained his mug. He was back where he belonged, as if the whole episode with Totelun had never happened. No responsibilities, no ties. He smiled to himself. Only if I keep my eyes shut, clamp my ears closed, and ignore everything happening in this city. His journey with Totelun had changed everything; prophecies had been brought into the light and begun to be fulfilled, a thirty-year war had been brought to a dramatic finish, a city and the Empire it used to rule had fallen to an ancient cult. My wanderings are truly over, he mused.

  Naus signalled the Therian born barkeep for a refill and got a sullen nod for his trouble. The young man was sallow-faced, drawn, and looked to have not slept in days. Naus turned to the room, watching the clientele.

  The place felt like an Eastern bar, somewhere in the reaches beyond Lansaro, or in the cradle of horse country. It didn’t feel like Theris, yet it sat in an upmarket northern residential block halfway between the wall and the palace. A Theris bar should be more muted, more constant, all white skin and privilege.

  But this was no longer Theris.

  The bar staff may have been Therian born, but the drinkers were bearded mercenaries from the East with bands of gold around their arms signifying their wealth, horse lords from the Terracon steppe who loo
ked out of place not astride their elegant creatures, the various camp followers of Stauros' huge army, now occupying the city. Thralls of all sizes and sexes sat up to the bar or lit a dingy corner, each with a wide berth around them. The smaller thralls, or the ones with a smaller Medusi symbiotically attached by a tentacle at their necks, were those already thralled before the battle, thralled by choice in most cases. The others, whose wild Medusi were the size of barrels, were those thralled during the raging battle for the city, Therians enslaved by the tidal wave of Medusi that flowed into their city following the invading army. The bloom of life-draining creatures hadn’t only chosen Therians mind; there were mercenaries and horsemen who were now among the thralled.

  He’d dealt with thousands of Medusi over hundreds of years, but the strange blue gelatinous creatures still managed to give him pause; a bulbous carapace of jelly-like flesh hovering in the air over a tangle of stinging tentacles and the central thralling tube. It wasn’t that they were unnatural, but they certainly seemed alien. Not of this world.

  And in most cases thralls weren’t much better. You got the impression that you weren’t talking to them, but to the Medusi instead. The host was quiet, almost catatonic sometimes, their eyes focussing on the middle distance; the creature above bright blue and vibrantly alive, animating its host. It was disconcerting.

  It had been a few days since the battle. Most thralls by choice remained functional members of society; these people just needed time to adapt to their new situation. The thick tentacles of the Celestial still hung over the city, but they had moved from the Eastern gate to curl around the western wing of the palace in a fierce embrace. Naus could see the tendrils through a window from where he sat, creeping up into the sky, and disappearing into the dark clouds. It looked like the palace and the city were thralled to the sky itself.