An Imperial Gambit (Wardens of Issalia Book 3)

by Jeffrey L. Kohanek

  “We told Hardy we were sending a man to Nor Torin and planned to hole up in the mines until help arrived. The remaining towns folk gathered their belongings, as much food as we had stored, and made this place our home. It will remain as such until this scourge is gone.”

  Rena listened to the stories, the images playing out in her head until something occurred to her.

  “Oh, no,” she uttered.

  Everyone turned toward her.

  “What is it?” Kwai-Lan asked.

  “Rabbits are meant to be prey. They breed fast – perhaps faster than any other animal. If they are that massive and have become the hunters instead of the hunted, what’s to stop them from multiplying? A handful of these monsters could produce a swarm within weeks.”

  Oh, Torney. Where are you?

  18

  The Return

  As the pale walls of Sol Polis drew closer, anxiety twisted Iko’s innards. Now I know how it feels to be seasick. Having sailed many times without experiencing the illness, he was guessing because the source of his malady had nothing to do with the sea.

  Motion to his left drew his attention to Percy, who was climbing up the stairs from the cabin they shared. Percy approached and handed Iko his pack, which he accepted with a nod. Once again, Iko found himself longing for a sword at his hip, something he had grown used to during his stay in Kantar. Having nothing but the dagger strapped to his belt made him uncomfortable, like a part of him was missing.

  In his deep voice, Captain Sterling shouted orders that set the crew scurrying to their posts – some climbed masts, some held the lines, others waited beside the rail. When the sails were furled, the ship slowed and drifted toward the pier. The sailors at the rail made ready, the one closer to Iko tossing a loop over the thick post sticking up from the pier as they drifted past. When the rope drew taught, the ship stopped, pulling against it for a moment before settling beside the pier.

  Iko turned to Percy. “Why don’t you go pay Sterling? I’ll meet you on the docks.”

  With a nod, Percy turned and headed toward the quarterdeck.

  Sailors shuffled past Iko as they slid the boarding plank through an opening in the rail and let it drop to the dock. Moments later, Iko descended the plank and stepped onto solid footing for the first time since leaving Wayport.

  He looked toward Sol Polis, his gaze settling on the citadel that overlooked the city. The shorter, scorched and broken tower seemed an oddity standing beside the two that remained intact – their alabaster walls appearing like bright white teeth in the afternoon sun. Iko’s mother waited somewhere inside the citadel. Although he wished otherwise, his duty was to report to her immediately – a conversation he dreaded.

  Percy climbed off the boarding plank and clapped Iko on the shoulder. “We made it. Let’s get this over with, and then we can relax for a bit.”

  Iko gave his friend a sidelong glance. Percy stood a few inches shorter than Iko, with a head of brown hair that seemed to curl more with the humidity. His smile was affable, as always, his manner at ease.

  Iko raised a brow in response. “Haven’t we just spent the better part of two weeks relaxing on a ship?”

  “Yes. But I didn’t have an ale in my hand, so it doesn’t count.” Percy flashed a broad smile.

  Finding his friend’s grin infectious, Iko smiled in return. “Good point.” He waved Percy forward. “Let’s complete our duty, and then we’ll have a few mugs.”

  “Only a few?” Percy shook his head as he began walking. “I’m thinking double digits are more appropriate after this mission.”

  Iko’s smile faded as memories of the past month resurfaced.

  When he first left for Kantar, his mission had been clear and the objective made sense. Unexpectedly, Iko had found a kindred spirit in Broland. He had anticipated a spoiled, pretentious prince whose attention was focused on balls, dinners, and fashion. Instead, Iko had discovered Broland to be honest, friendly, and compassionate. As he spent time with the prince, the walls around the feigned friendship began to crack and fall away. What remained was a friend, the only friend Iko had outside of Percy. Killing Broland had taken every bit of Iko’s will. The wound it had rendered was still fresh, raw, and refused to heal. Forgive me, my friend. The words sounded hollow in his head.

  A cloud of melancholy hovered over Iko as they passed through Downside, crossed beneath the outer wall, and entered Sol Polis proper. The foot traffic thickened, parted, and faded. Carts and carriages rolled by, the rumble of their wheels swallowed by the hum of the city. Beggars at the corner, shops lining the street, and guards on patrol were lost in the haze of Iko’s thoughts until the citadel suddenly loomed before them, as if it had appeared from nowhere.

  Built upon a hilltop and surrounded by a tall wall, the complex of alabaster buildings and towers stood over the city like a guardian – a guardian that had failed more than once. Two decades prior, The Horde had crushed the city, destroying it and everyone within. More recently – less than a year past – Sol Polis had been assaulted, captured, and taken from King Dalwin, the man Iko’s mother had replaced. That day marked the rebirth of the Empire.

  Percy moved ahead of Iko and began scaling the stairs to the western gate. Following, Iko shook his head in an attempt to clear it. Focus, Iko.

  They reached the top, and one of the guards on duty held his hand up.

  “Hold. State your name and your reason for visiting the citadel.”

  “It’s me, Tarshal. Ikonis Eldarro.”

  The guard lowered his hand, stared at Iko for a moment, and then nodded. “Sorry, Iko. I didn’t recognize you with the facial hair.” He studied Iko from head to toe. “You’ve grown into a man. Although, you appear a bit tired.”

  “Tired, I am. We just arrived and are travel weary.”

  “I assume you are here to see your mother.”

  I’d rather be elsewhere. Perhaps a tavern, behind a bar lined with mugs of ale. “Yes.”

  “She’s in a meeting with the Council today. Kardan is with them. Things are…brewing.”

  Iko nodded. “I should have guessed as much.” Feared as much.

  “Go on in and report to Sculdin in the barracks. He’ll walk you to your mother’s chambers.”

  Scully. Him, I do wish to see. “Thanks, Tarshal.”

  They passed through the gate and headed north, following a brick path through the western garden. Long shadows covered the path, casting the area in a gloom that matched Iko’s mood. Unlike his last visit, the garden lacked color, the flowers now dormant until spring. Winter in Sol Polis simply meant rain and reasonable temperatures, nothing like a winter in Fallbrandt. The thought stirred memories of a pleasant carriage ride across the snow-covered valley. He found himself missing Quinn, the sentiment eliciting a sigh. Another betrayal I must live with. Another friend lost because of my actions. Another sacrifice made for our cause.

  Emerging from the garden, they turned the corner and crossed an open courtyard where an empty carriage waited, the harnesses empty with the horses likely off in the stable. Percy opened the door to the barracks and led Iko down the corridor inside. They passed an open door. Inside, Iko spotted three males and a female playing dice at a table, the walls surrounding them lined with empty bunks. The guards glanced in his direction, and then resumed their game. A cheer arose at the throw, countered by one of the guards cursing his bad luck. Reaching the door at the end, Percy opened it to a shout.

  Two guards were sparring, one with a lean frame and standing over six feet tall, the other sporting a squat, thick build. Wooden swords clashed, the clacking of wood on wood filling the air. The tall guard swung his shield about and blocked a massive blow from his opponent before attempting a counterstrike that missed. The two men circled, the tall man swinging a chest-high strike. The squat guard lifted his shield, redirecting the strike while executing a thrust toward his opponent’s abdomen. With an oof, the tall man bent and collapsed. As a healer ran in from the side of the room, Iko glanced up and
found Sculdin leaning over the rail of his lofted office.

  “Is that young Ikonis?” Sculdin shouted. “And Percilus as well?”

  “Yo, Sculdin.” Percy waved.

  “We came to see you, Scully,” Iko said.

  “Come on up. The stairs are at the far end of the practice yard.”

  Stepping down on the dirt floor, Iko crossed the yard, nodding toward the two guards as he walked past. Iko recognized the shorter guard and nodded toward him when their eyes met. Tarvick. The man might be a member of the elite guard, but I could defeat him in a duel. Despite his strength, his motion is slow, his moves predictable.

  Percy opened the door and led Iko up the stairs to Sculdin’s office. They entered the loft to find Sculdin waiting. Sculdin gripped Percy’s forearm and clapped his back before doing the same to Iko.

  “It’s good to see you have returned safely,” Sculdin said. “Your mother didn’t tell me where you were, only that you were on a dangerous and important mission.”

  Iko nodded. “Thank you, Scully. Percy and I just arrived via ship. We’ll need a place to sleep, but first, I must speak with my mother.”

  “Your mother has been in the Council chambers all day, but I can escort you to her chambers if you wish to wait there.” Sculdin turned toward Percy. “Come along. I’ll have Sheen find you two a room.”

  Sculdin led them out the door, up the stairs to the top floor, and down another long corridor. Another guard Iko knew, a woman named Ydith, was patrolling the hallway. Ydith nodded to Sculdin and eyed Iko as he passed by – her narrowed eyes following him the entire time. Sculdin opened the second to last door and stepped aside.

  “Wait in here. Dinner time approaches, and I expect your mother will be along shortly.”

  Sculdin pulled the door closed, leaving Iko alone in the room.

  Iko turned to find a desk and chairs before him. To his left, a sitting area, a tub and vanity, and a four-poster bed occupied the length of the room. Beams of light from the setting sun streamed through the open curtains, tinting everything with an amber hue. Drawn toward the light, Iko crossed the room, toward the open window. The tap of each step echoed off the polished marble floor, the sound ominous in the quiet room.

  Looking outside, he found the sun nearing the horizon, casting a long reflection across the sea. The silhouette of a ship split the bright reflection, its sails raised as it drifted into port. Closer in, the streets teemed with life, the activity sure to fade as darkness settled over the city. The taverns would fill at that time, and Iko hoped to find himself in one of them. Drinking himself to a stupor had never held much appeal…until now.

  With a sigh, Iko turned from the window and strolled toward the desk, his thoughts drifting to his mother’s role as Archon. While she had spent three years leading the Council while they ruled Vinacci, he still had not grown used to her position as Archon of the Empire. With Kalimar and the entire east coast under her rule, she was likely the most powerful person in all of Issalia. Even then, it seemed as if her ambition, and that of the Council, would not be sated until they ruled the entire continent.

  He stopped at the desk, and his gaze landed on a pile of papers. Curious, he spun the top sheet around and found it to be a letter to Karl Jarlish. Iko began reading the letter when he heard the door open. Realizing that his mother wouldn’t approve of his snooping, he spun around and blinked in surprise.

  He couldn’t have been more shocked if Issal himself had appeared and offered him salvation.

  “Quinn?”

  19

  Confrontation

  Quinn crossed her arms and leaned against the wall, resisting a sigh. Her strong distaste for boredom had taken hold and left her impatient to do something. Anything.

  The two guards beside the Council Chamber door eyed her with expressions that left words unnecessary. No sympathy there, Quinn thought. I’m sure they prefer boredom to the alternative. Guards and soldiers tend to die when things aren’t boring. Deciding to occupy her mind with something pleasant, she recalled her rendezvous with Brandt from the previous evening.

  They had met in the abandoned tower, three hours after sunset. After Brandt produced a glowstone, Quinn rolled out the map she had stolen the night before. Using Brandt’s telepathic connection with his sister, they had relayed the latest events to their leaders at the Ward.

  “They want to know what we see on the map,” Brandt had said.

  Quinn had then leaned over it while holding the glowstone close. “I see a big black X marked in a forest just north of Yarth. Black arrows point from Vinacci to the X, while a red arrow points from the X to Hipoint.”

  Brandt had closed his eyes and Quinn waited while he communicated with his sister. After a moment, he said, “The Empire attempting an advance past Hipoint is expected. Kantarian soldiers now occupy the garrison at Hipoint, and wardens are stationed at the garrison for support. What else do you see on the map?”

  “There’s a star beside Yarth, along with notes about wagons, supplies, and more arrows that come from various cities.”

  Moments later, Brandt said, “They are guessing that the star is a collection point for supplies and possibly for their army as well.”

  While he relayed the response, Quinn moved the glowstone and shifted her focus with it, locating a name she didn’t recognize. “There’s also a circle that might mean something. What is…” she squinted to read the scribbled text, “Castile Corvichi?”

  With his eyes still closed, Brandt said, “Before they respond, they wish to know where it’s located.”

  “It appears to be located in the mountains east of Vinata, beside a river.”

  Brandt’s eyes had remained closed as he relayed the message. “Master Firellus remembers a famous Vinacci merchant name Corvichi who built a castle far from the city. There, he sought to secure his wealth in a protective location. However, Corvichi died only a few years after the castle was completed, and he had no heirs. Firellus believes that the castle was then abandoned.” Brandt opened his eyes and frowned. “That can’t be right.”

  “What can’t be right?”

  “This Corvichi lived over four hundred years ago.”

  “What does that have to do with anything?”

  He shrugged. “I have no idea.”

  Quinn frowned in frustration. She had hoped the map would provide them an advantage. Instead, stealing it now seemed like a pointless risk she could not undo. That feeling clung to her as the memory faded and her focus shifted back to the present, to her location in the citadel main hall.

  She began to pace before the doors, knowing it annoyed the guards. Good. I hope they’re annoyed. They annoy me with their attitude.

  The doors suddenly opened as the eight Council members exited the chambers. With grim expressions and mouths bent into frowns, they crossed the hall to the stairwell, their blue-trimmed white cloaks swaying with each step. Kardan and Varius then appeared, both wearing a scowl. I wonder what has left everyone so upset.

  With a glance and the flick of her wrist, Varius indicated that Quinn should take the lead. Presuming that the Archon was heading back to her chambers, Quinn crossed the hall with Varius and Kardan in tow. They climbed the stairs to the top floor, where Varius tapped Quinn on the shoulder.

  “Glynnis, you go on and meet me in my room.” Varius turned toward Kardan. “I need a moment alone with Leo.”

  The Archon turn toward her general, and Quinn’s curiosity screamed to remain and listen, but the Archon’s orders were clear. She spun about, approached the door, and noticed Ydith down the corridor, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed. A knowing smirk was painted across the woman’s face, causing Quinn to frown in return. What is it with that hateful woman? She continued to glare at Ydith as she opened the door and stepped inside.

  When Quinn turned forward, she saw someone in the room. His back faced her, his fingers touching the papers on the Archon’s desk. Alarmed, Quinn prepared to defend herself as the man turned aro
und. However, nothing could have prepared her for that moment.

  “Quinn?” Iko said aloud.

  Quinn gritted her teeth and lunged with a jab to his throat, striking him hard. Iko staggered back a step, but Quinn rushed forward, using her momentum to thrust a knee into his groin. Choking with one hand around his throat, he doubled-over, his eyes bulging. A backward thrust of her arm drove an elbow into his temple and Iko spun about, falling to one knee. Quinn drew the knife from his belt, wrapped her arm about his head, and held the blade to his neck, allowing the tip to pierce his skin.

  “Glynnis!” Varius shouted from the open doorway. “What are you doing to my son?”

  Still panting with adrenaline, Quinn blinked at Varius, whose expression teetered between alarm and outrage. The Archon’s words replayed in Quinn’s head. Her son?

  “Release him!” Varius commanded as she strode into the room.

  Responding to the order, Quinn pulled the knife away and stepped back, numbly confused. Iko leaned forward with one hand on the floor, the other to his throat as he coughed. A drip of blood tracked down his neck, onto his fingers. Varius put her hand on his head and closed her eyes. He then shuddered – a telling sign of the healing that had taken place. His choking shifted to gasps for air as he stood and looked at his hand, still streaked with blood.

  “You’ll have to excuse Glynnis, Ikonis. Her concern for my well-being leaves her somewhat over-protective, but I can think of worse traits for a bodyguard.”

  Iko blinked and turned toward Quinn. “Bodyguard?”

  Quinn glared at him, not daring to respond. She had shared a piece of herself with Iko, and he had betrayed her. Half a year later, he now stood five feet away. Her fist clenched, wishing she could strike him again.