Serpent Kings Saga (Omnibus Edition)

by James Somers

  Marco grinned as he read the most recent communiqué from Haven. The message had taken some time to reach him in the city of Ellis in the southlands. Centuries ago, Marco had found his place here when Ellis was little more than a smudge upon the maps of the time. Since that time, he and his many followers, having left Haven in quiet opposition to Ezekiah’s regency, had turned this sleepy town into a grand city rivaling the city of his heritage.

  Strategy had always been important in Marco’s view, and he had seized upon rich mineral resources found in the rocky hills lying to the east of Ellis as well as the Highborn River. The river had turned out to be of greater import than any other resource he now commanded. As it turned out, the southlands lay just beyond the boundaries of Ezekiah’s stated kingdom. However, the Highborn River flowed all the way down to Haven, miles and miles away, feeding Riven’s Canal and the city itself.

  Marco had decided early on that Ellis would benefit from electric power that could be produced by a dam spanning the Highborn. Its massive volume and speed as it passed near the city had the ability to churn the generators Marco and his people knew how to build from the days of his grand vision for Haven. As a result, the one-time prince of Haven now had control of Ezekiah’s principle water supply.

  Ezekiah had been reluctant to pay the tribute at first, but had soon decided that lawfully he had no right to force his will upon those outside his territory. Rather than taking Haven into war, which Marco realized they would certainly win, Ezekiah had instead agreed to pay a healthy percentage of Haven’s grain crop and other exports directly to Marco.

  This relationship had created a boon for Marco and Ellis during the centuries since, but it had never replaced his desire to see Haven come under his control again. That dream, to find himself upon the throne of his father dwelling in his ancestral lands, had remained to this day. And this day was turning out to be far better than Marco ever could have anticipated.

  His eyes rose from the parchment to meet those of his trusted aide. “This report is accurate, James?”

  James smiled. “It has been verified, sir,” he said. “It would appear your time has finally come.”

  “My preparation has not been in vain,” Marco said with a sigh. “Shut off the Highborn River and prepare our forces to move against Haven immediately. When we reach the beginning of the canal system we will use it to march right under their wall.”

  “Mistress, the heads of the other militias have arrived as you requested,” the soldier said.

  Shalindra looked up from her meditation. She sat upon pillows within a luxurious tent one of the local merchants had provided her upon joining her growing rebellion against the reign of Ezekiah. Outside, her camp had been steadily increasing in size as word had spread of this new prophetess and her power. Thousands of men, ready to fight, had already flocked to join her cause.

  This grassland between Haven and the place Shalindra had once called home was now brimming with tents and campfires. The grasses had been torn up, or trampled down, much as Shalindra intended to do to Ezekiah and his followers when she reached the capital city by the sea. Nearby, one of Ezekiah’s more faithful towns had been overrun by these new followers of Belial. The granaries had been pillaged. The residents had either fled, or been wiped out.

  Shalindra cared for none of it. The men could do what they will, so long as they obeyed her commands and fought for her when the time came. “Is there something else?” she said when the soldier did not immediately make his exit.

  “Mistress, an urgent message has also arrived.”

  The soldier held out a small rolled parchment containing a communiqué sent by hawk.

  Shalindra took the message and read it quickly. She did not smile when she read the report. How could such a thing have happened? Why now? She could not make sense of it. Somewhere within, the girl who had watched her father die not many years ago delighted in the news of Ezekiah’s death. But the part of her that Belial held was unsure what to think. His revenge and Shalindra’s had just been robbed from them. They could not now put Ezekiah to death personally. The man had simply expired.

  As this realization hit home, Shalindra jumped to her feet, knocking the soldier out of her way furiously as she tore through the sidewall of her tent. Her voice became deep and menacing as Belial spoke through her in his rage, blaspheming the name of Elithias for all the camp to hear. The terrified faces of the militia captains stared at her from the campfire before her demolished tent.

  Crimson fire played within Shalindra’s eyes. The campfire between the men gushed blue flame to a height of ten feet as they scrambled away for their lives. “The time has come to take back what was stolen from you!” she cried, her voice returning to that of a young woman. “Our enemy is dead, leaving Haven open for us to claim! Rise up now, for we march toward victory!”

  Overcoming their fear, the would-be soldiers from a hundred cobbled militia groups shouted their praise of Belial and his prophetess. She basked in their adulation as flame erupted from the head of Shalindra’s stolen staff. The campsite was abandoned in haste, and soon remained behind the advancing army as a trampled waste.

  Two weeks had now passed since Ezekiah’s death, and Gwen had spent many of those nights quietly sobbing into her pillow until exhaustion forced her into sleep. But for all of the sorrow she felt for losing her beloved husband of nearly five hundred years, she still had duties to attend to. Recent days had continually brought news of rebellion breaking forth throughout the kingdom, especially in the northern border towns where Ezekiah had forced so many under his rule by order of Elithias.

  These once idolatrous people had clearly never truly accepted the faith of the one God over their former beliefs, and they appeared ready to fight for their freedom to go back to their old ways. Still, there seemed to be a common thread running throughout this rebellion. The towns had erupted at various times in pockets of resistance, but nothing like this new threat. Someone was organizing their attacks, preaching a common theme.

  News had reached Gwen a week ago of a prophetess, apparently holding great power, who had risen to lead these rebels. The name Shalindra meant nothing to her personally. She had never heard of this person before. She had never heard Ezekiah mention any prophetess in the scriptures. For all of the trouble brewing, Gwen felt utterly blind-sided.

  Still, she held the regency in Ezekiah’s place. Something had to be done. This rebellion had to be squashed before the entire kingdom erupted in turmoil. Gwen had days ago ordered Andrea to marshal the High Guard, bringing its full strength to defend Haven from what appeared to be an imminent attack by this prophetess and her followers.

  Andrea had followed her instructions to the letter. Thousands of warriors, trained and ready, had been assembled in the city. Andrea was waiting for Gwen to arrive downstairs. Gwen finished dressing in her own wraith dancer uniform; a deep blue reminding her of days long ago in her youth when she had earned those colors beneath Zora’s careful tutelage.

  She checked her weapons. Even when she went to train with Andrea, in order to keep her skills up, she always arrayed herself for real combat. Andrea was the same way, though. They could handle real weapons during their sparring without concern for injury. The same could not be said for the other High Guardsmen, since they did not possess the gifts of the wraith dancer.

  Gwen walked from the palace, making her way through two rows of servants waiting for her on the ground floor. They did not look suspiciously at her uniform. All of them knew exactly who and what she had been upon arriving in Haven and the warrior that she had continued to be despite reigning over the city as a queen.

  She passed through the ornate doors with their frosted windows, treading as lightly as a cat down the broad steps beyond to the courtyard where Andrea waited with a contingent of nearly one thousand warriors of the High Guard. Gwen walked down the line of soldiers toward Andrea. Neither of them smiled at the other. War seemed imminent; this was no time for levity.

  Beyond the
gate of the palace Gwen noticed someone standing upon the bridge that carried vehicles over Riven’s Canal; the concrete waterway that brought the Highborn River through the kingdom. The man was dressed in plain robes and was somewhat disheveled in appearance. Gwen recognized him immediately.

  Andrea turned, following her gaze. “Tobias?”

  Both women rushed to greet him. Their relationship with Tobias had been somewhat strained since the time he had been called by Elithias. Trouble in the kingdom had led him away, so that he had not even been willing to respond to Ezekiah’s call. Though they had heard reports of Tobias preaching in different cities and towns, they had not seen him in quite some time.

  The prophet, who had been only a boy when they all first came to Haven and this land across the sea, stood like a statue before them on the bridge. His eyes were closed as they approached. His robes were somewhat soiled by his travels, but the fabric was not worn in the least. His sandals were dusty, but the leather looked well oiled. He carried only a small shoulder bag across his torso and a walnut staff.

  Andrea and Gwen came up to him, smiling until he seemed not to notice them. The wind had picked up, and storm clouds were beginning to roll over Haven. Gwen started to speak, but Tobias beat her to it.

  “The time of Elithias’s coming is at hand,” he said.

  Both women stammered before Andrea found her voice again. “When will he come, Tobias?”

  “Sooner than anyone expects,” he said.

  They would have asked him further questions, but he continued unabated. “You must take your people, Gwen, and leave this city. Prince Marco and his army are on their way to Haven with the intent of taking this city as a spoil. He knows that Ezekiah no longer stands to oppose him.”

  “We can defend Haven from Marco,” Gwen said quickly.

  Tobias opened his eyes then, grinning at her. “You don’t understand,” he said. “Marco will not take this city. However, those who remain in Haven will surely die. You must take the people away from here.”

  Gwen pushed aside her pride, remembering that she wasn’t talking to the boy from so long ago, but a prophet of Elithias. “Where must we go, Tobias?”

  “Follow the Highborn River,” he said simply.

  For the first time, Gwen realized that something was missing. The noise of the river flowing through the canal below them was gone. She and Andrea looked over the sides of the bridge to find the concrete damp, but empty of the Highborn that normally made its course through the kingdom by Riven’s Canal.

  “Marco stopped the water?” Gwen asked.

  “He has closed the dam,” Andrea said. “But he can’t hope to breach the wall so quickly.”

  “His army is following the river’s course along the dry canal bed,” Tobias added.

  “He’ll march his army beneath the wall,” Gwen said.

  “You must gather your people and leave, following the canals. Do not attempt to stay and fight. When you see me again, you will know that you have arrived at the place Elithias has chosen.”

  Still looking toward the drying canal bed, both women turned to find Tobias gone.

  “Where did he go?” Andrea asked, searching in every direction.

  “Taken by Elithias,” Gwen said. She was already running back toward the High Guardsmen still waiting before the palace.

  “Captains, divide the city by sections!” Gwen called. “Take your warriors and force the evacuation of the city by my authority! An army is on its way to besiege the city! Elithias’s prophet has foretold Haven’s destruction, and we must flee for our lives to the north following the canal!”

  There was a moment’s hesitation from the soldiers, but Andrea came on Gwen’s heels. “You heard the regent’s command! Now go!”

  The soldiers of the High Guard moved instantly, obeying orders as they were given, dividing and forming squads according to the number of their captains. Within ten minutes, squads were leaving the palace grounds to arrange the evacuation of the city.

  “Gwen, you should go back to the palace and gather your belongings for this journey,” Andrea said. “I’ll see to the evacuation and meet you back here.”

  Gwen looked at her hand. The ring of Elithias, given to her husband five hundred years ago, hugged her index finger gently. “No,” she said. “I already have everything I need.”

  OVERTHROW

  Shalindra stood upon a hill, staring into the distance toward the sea. A full two days of travel still lay between Haven and her army of dissidents. With preternatural eyes Shalindra stared down at the city. Her eyes found nothing of what she had expected to find, and this puzzled her.

  Where were the people? Were they hiding? Certainly they had found out by now of the impending attack. Shalindra had made no effort to hide her movements. Her lord, Belial, wanted panic to spread ahead of the charge. At the very least she might have expected to find battlements being fortified, or terrified soldiers huddled together upon the wall waiting to defend Haven from an enemy they could not hope to withstand. After all, Ezekiah was gone.

  “Mistress!” One of her lieutenants had found her, bringing the report she had requested several hours ago.

  She turned to the brawny, bald man running up the hill toward her. “What have you found, Dirge?”

  “Mistress, the villagers who found us yesterday were apparently right,” he said. “A mass exodus appears to be underway. Thousands have fled Haven, heading northwest along the canal beds toward the Mahalia Plain.”

  Shalindra smiled, but only for a moment. “What are they up to?” she said to herself.

  “If the city is undefended, then we should go now and take it,” Dirge suggested.

  Shalindra turned back to the overlook, searching the streets of Haven miles away. No one could be seen; not even one.

  “No,” she said finally. “We change course for the Mahalia Plain. The city will wait. If I cannot kill Ezekiah then I will have his queen. Make it so, Dirge.”

  The large warrior bowed himself, turned and ran back down the hill toward their encampment. Shalindra stared again at Haven in the distance. Something was happening that was beyond her ability to perceive. Trapped in this Human form Belial had only these eyes and ears to inform him. His anger was growing.

  James, the closest advisor to Marco and Chancellor of Ellis City, received the latest reports from the Highborn Dam with great trepidation. With all of the rain and flooding that had concentrated around the mountains these last few days since his master’s departure for Haven, the news could not be favorable. The messenger was soaked to the bone as it was still raining, never having let up from the moment it started four days ago.

  He read the report and sighed heavily. His hands were shaking. The plea from the manager was the same. The dam was in danger of giving way to the rising waters, yet they could not expend any water because of his master’s army marching along the canals toward Haven. To release the river might kill them all before they reached their goal, and there was no way to know from this distance.

  He looked at the messenger woefully. “We can’t release the river. Marco and our men would be killed if the flood overtook them.”

  The messenger nodded then headed back out the door the way he had come in order to deliver James’s reply. The chancellor considered his predicament. If the rains continued, the dam would surely give way. There was nothing he could do to prevent that. But at least he might delay the inevitable long enough for Marco to reach Haven and safety.

  In the meantime, Ellis was experiencing its own problems. The heavy rains coming down the mountain had caused flooding as the river backed up and flowed out over its banks creating small fast moving tributaries that had managed to destroy a great deal of property in the city. In some cases, entire homes had been swept from their foundations along with their unsuspecting residents. The natural protection they had enjoyed for so long while dwelling beneath the shadow of the mountain was now gone, leaving only chaos and uncertainty in its wake.

  James
sat heavy-hearted upon the throne that Marco usually occupied here in Ellis within the palace he had constructed. In every way, it and the edifice surrounding him reminded him of Riven’s throne that had long ago been denied Marco. Here in Ellis City he had constructed his long-held desire, mimicking the very thing he could not have because of Ezekiah the so-called Prophet King. James watched through the nearest windows as the rain continued its steady deluge.

  Unbeknownst to the thousands of residents dwelling in the drenched city of Ellis below, Highborn Mountain had begun to shift with the heavy downpour of the last four days. Upon its northern face in particular, the earth had been laid bare due to intensive deforestation in order to accommodate Marco’s lumber mills by which he maintained much of his vast wealth.

  The dry eroded soil layering this side of Highborn, now saturated beyond all capacity, slid away from the mountain toward Ellis below. Twisted stumps of long gone trees and boulders of every size and shape tumbled down Highborn’s steep slope. Millions of tons descended, gathering mass and speed. Those in Ellis never knew what happened; only that all light had been snuffed out, and precious oxygen had been replaced by a tidal wave of debris and mud. They were all at once entombed and carried away.

  Beyond the city, the land slide cascaded into the swollen Highborn River. Water, soil, debris and victims from Ellis smashed through the Highborn Dam built hundreds of years before by Marco. The raging torrent plowed through concrete and steel, never stopping as it continued to sweep along the river’s previously drained bed toward Haven and the sea.

  Marco smiled as he entered the city beneath the wall. He had pressed his army night and day in order to get here in record time. The fact that it was night, in the light of a full moon, had provided exactly the cover Marco had hoped for. Now they were inside while the city slept. Not even the guards upon the wall had stirred at their arrival.