by Robert Brady
I’d have loved to contact him, but just looking for him would tip off the insurgents that I wasn’t where I was supposed to be, and that would cause trouble. I wanted to hit the palace with as much surprise as I could muster.
It was less than half an hour before I heard the march of Wolf Soldier cleats on the cobblestones of Hydrus’ wharf. Merchants and workers scattered before a little more than 300 angry Wolf Soldiers led by four truly pissed-off captains.
I wanted to tell Shela to go rest on a Sea Wolf, but she wasn’t going to do it, I didn’t have the time to make her, and a tired Shela was more of a threat than the best I suspected Rhor could muster.
She had to dismount so that I could remount, and then the Harbor Master himself helped her up behind me. Blizzard pawed and snorted as three columns of Wolf Soldier squads marched toward me.
Some generals give inspirational speeches to their warriors before they fight. Wolf Soldiers needed no such encouragement. If their captains had riled them up like I’d expected, it would be more of a matter of holding them back.
I turned Blizzard on his backs and we marched for the gates of Hydrus.
There are a lot of things the local guard might have expected that morning. Angry Wolf Soldiers marching on the city wasn’t one of them.
“My – your – my,” the Captain of the Guard, a Volkhydran in Eldadorian Green, stammered. He commanded two squads, one for each of the towers at the wooden gate. The gate itself was iron-bound timbers typical of the Fovean design. We’d had to replace them after battering down the last set when we took the city during the War months.
“He’s one of them,” Shela whispered in my ear. “But not his men.”
I nodded. I was a one-man vanguard to my marching army, seated on Blizzard, and the Wolf Soldiers were still marching up behind me.
Shela scooted back and I dismounted. I smiled my widest smile as I approached the captain.
He made a fist over his heart. I did the same. When I came within arm’s reach, I extended my right arm in greeting.
He reached out and grasped my forearm. With no armor on me, he surely felt Genna’s dagger, which I’d slid up that sleeve, just in case.
He wore a light, leather breast plate and knee-high boots, with a short sword at his hip. He looked me in the eye as we gripped each others’ forearms.
My left fist smashed his nose, a full-on punch made worse by my holding his forearm, giving his body no way to pull back.
The surprise was evident on his face as I released his forearm and took his throat in my right hand.
He clutched at my fingers. I stood at least four inches taller than he, and my arms were much longer. As his face began to turn blue, he reached for me, and then for my arm.
“This man is a traitor,” I informed his command, twenty warriors staring back and forth between each other, torn between loyalty for their captain, loyalty for me and fear of my Wolf Soldier guard.
“The Duke has sided with Gharf Bendenson and planned to give the city back to him,” I continued, “and this one planned to help him.”
The captain was strangling, his tongue sticking out now, his mouth open. The noises he was making, I was familiar with.
“He approached me,” one of the gate guards said to the rest.
“Me, as well,” another added. They didn’t look too happy about admitting it, however they likely wanted to remain Eldadorians, and that and the pay were why they joined the guard. I think it would be a long time before Volkhydrans thought of themselves as anything but Volkhydrans, however these had decided that their fate was with the Empire.
Well, most of them had. One broke and ran down the street toward the palace.
I dropped the guard captain on the ground and pointed to three others. “You three,” I said. “After hm. Kill him.”
They looked at each other, then at me, and one saluted, making a fist over his chest. The other two did the same, and then they turned and ran after the first.
I turned to one of the guards left. “Where is General Daharef?” I asked him.
He looked to the other guards for support, then back to me. “Your Imperial Majesty,” he said, “I cannot say. I haven’t seen the general for a week or more.”
“Nor I,” one other volunteered.
These men had no discipline, I thought. I needed to move a better Duke here to take control of this city, or I was going to lose it.
“Keep the gate,” I ordered them. “No one in, no one out, until someone from the Imperial family approves it. I’ll send you relief as soon as I can.”
The first one whom I’d spoken to saluted. I ordered the Wolf Soldiers forward.
Their former captain was puking on cobblestones. “What of him?” one of the guards asked.
I pulled my sword, spun it in my hand to turn the point down, and punched it into the former captain’s ear. I heard the blade hit the cobblestones, and the man lay still.
“What of him?” I asked.
Punching the guard captain in the nose had my arm throbbing again. The cold wind whipped down the main thoroughfare as we marched the daheeri from the gate to the palace.
People scattered. Eldadorian Regulars in their greens were startled to see me at the head of three columns of Wolf Soldiers. It would have been nice to have Shela checking them to see who was loyal and who was not, but it was simply not in her at this point, and wasn’t going to help us that much.
She leaned against my shoulder, behind me on Blizzard. Even my stallion seemed weary – the previous month had been taxing on him.
“Still nothing at the tower,” she informed me, whispering in my ear as we approached the palace gates. “Lupennen is back – he didn’t see anything to make him think that the Duke has been alerted.”
That was strange, because someone should have come to him by now and said, “The Emperor is on his way here with 300 Wolf Soldiers that he didn’t tell you about.”
The beat of our march rebounded from the palace walls. 300 cleats on cobblestones made a hell of a noise, but somehow seemed louder than it should have, as if my warriors’ anger shook the walls.
In fact, it wasn’t that, as I found out when fifty mounted, Eldadorian Regulars with lances rode out five-across through the palace gates to meet me.
This was a problem. Those men were highly trained and heavily armored. One sweeping charge and it would be a miracle if half of my Wolf Soldiers were still alive.
Then I saw that their lieutenant bore the Wolf’s Head pennon on his lance, the one with red eyes, meaning my own guard. As we drew closer, I recognized our guard from our journey from Medya. Somehow, they’d gotten word about what I was doing and, hopefully, were here to support us.
That, or it was a hell of a trick and was probably going to work.
I approached the lieutenant, who rode out from his command with two other lancers. He saluted me, and I saluted him.
“Your Imperial Majesty,” he said, dropping the salute, “we are at your service.”
“He’s not one of them,” Shela informed me.
“Your service is welcome,” I informed him. “How did you hear I needed it?”
The lieutenant smiled. He was a blonde-haired Volkhydran who’d come to Eldador years ago, then joined the Regulars when he couldn’t make it in – I think – milling or something like it.”
“Young Prince Lupennen appeared in our barracks,” he informed me. “He informed me that the Duke was in revolt, although honestly, my Lord, I might have guessed it.”
“Really?”
He nodded. “The Duke is a rodent,” he said. “He tried to send us back to Medya today, but his own lieutenant wouldn’t have it. I asked to see General Daharef and was told that he had other commitments. I know Daharef – he’d never let another city’s troops go ungreeted.”
That made sense to me.
“I’ve taken the liberty of relieving the gate guard,” he informed me. “The way to the palace is yours.”
That was a worry –
if the palace could have shut its gates I might have had to lay siege to it with my kids inside, and that wouldn’t have gone well. On the other hand, no way did Rhor not know what I was doing now.
“I’ll leave Wolf Soldiers to hold the gate,” I informed him. “You and your men take the stables. I was attacked there – assume no one is a friendly.”
“Your will, my Lord,” the lieutenant said, and saluted me again. He turned his charger and gave his orders.
We marched inside the palace walls and I could see blood on the ground. He’d secured the gate – it hadn’t gone seamlessly.
There were stone steps that led up to the palace doors – high, wide, wooden double-doors with brass bindings and huge, circular door pulls. Normally there’d be Regulars there, as well, but they were gone. I dismounted Blizzard and left him with twenty Wolf Soldiers assigned to the gates. The rest of us marched in, Shela at my side.
This time I had two squads in the vanguard, then Shela and me, then the rest of the invasion force. We entered the gigantic, arched anteroom where guests could be received, torches blazing in sconces along the walls, arch after arch along the ceiling in white marble. Volkhydran art – mostly war scenes – lined the walls. A huge fire pit blazed in the center.
Again, no warriors. The throne room was on the other side of this one. We marched into the room, the wind blowing in cold behind us, Shela with her hand on my shoulder. I could feel her weight – she was at the end of her strength.
I told one of my captains to have the side doors investigated. Six squads broke off from the main and approached the doors as we moved forward. Another squad double-timed it to the far doors, and another looked behind tapestries hanging on some of the walls.
For several electric moments – nothing. No sound outside of the crackling fire and the whistling wind. The pungent funk of burning oak wafted across the room. We pressed forward, waiting for that crossbow bolt to whip out or those faceless warriors to leap out from behind the furniture.
Nothing. The forward squad stood at the door. When we were within 20 feet of it, I ordered the doors opened.
Normally, they would have been open already. Court would be in session still – there would be business going on.
The cherry-red doors were pulled open, their brass fittings reflecting distorted views of Wolf Soldier faces.
The two front squads knelt behind their shields without being ordered. The second two raised theirs – the result being seven feet of shielding between us and a barrage of spears or arrows.
Nothing.
The squad that had opened the door reported, “Men inside! Armed warriors!”
“Your Imperial Majesty – may I welcome you?” called a familiar voice from inside.
It wasn’t Rhor.
Six squads double-timed it into the room with their shields before them, breaking left and then right, setting up a bulwark for me to come in behind. When I entered I saw a gallery to my right filled with some very-shaken-looking nobles and wealthy commons, no less than twenty, all unarmed. The red carpet down the center of the throne room had been rumpled and twisted – possibly the result of feet on it from fighting warriors.
At the far end of the throne room, the usual raised dais, the usual stone steps, the usual stone throne. Sitting on it was Dragor Volkha, the former Volkhydran Duke I’d deposed.
Three steps below him lay what was left of Everech Rhor – laying face down, blood leaking from him and down the steps. He was dressed in the same brown tunic and pants I’d seen him in last, a broad sword laying on a step below him, his hands outspread.
He hadn’t been put there, he’d fallen there. Dragor looked like he could use about thirty pounds, his cheeks gaunt on his face, his black hair stringy and unwashed, past his shoulders. He was dressed in a worn, grey homespun shirt and pants with old, cracked boots, but a sword hung over his shoulder. It might have been the original one I’d taken from him – it was hard to remember.
To his left, between him and the gallery, a dozen Eldadorian Regulars stood with swords drawn. None of them wore the marks of command – all of them were Volkhydran.
“Your Grace,” I said, inclining my head to Dragor.
“Your Imperial Majesty,” he responded.
“Seems to me you’re on the wrong side of prison bars,” I said.
He smiled wide. “I’d have said the same,” he informed me. “However your man, Rhor, here freed me yesterday and offered me the Earldom of Myr if I would support him and, of course, Gharf Bendenson.”
“A step down from your previous station,” I informed him, “however a step up from a cell.”
“I can’t say that I craved the life of an Earl,” Dragor informed me. “I can only say that I thought less of being below that one in the peerage. My hope was that you could do better.”
I raised my eyebrows and frowned. So Bendenson had found some way to reach out to Rhor, which I had guessed, and both he and Rhor must have believed that Dragor could be counted on to follow the cause.
I had to think that the former Duke still remembered that his former King had left him to fend for himself while beating a hasty retreat to the safety of Vol, and not fondly.
“So your logic is that I’ll reward this behavior?” I asked him.
“My hope, at least, your Imperial Majesty,” Dragor replied.
“And you’d swear the oath to me that you swore to the King of Volkhydro, and then broke?”
Dragor smiled. “I think that your reputation is not to leave your supporters with their jaws hanging while you assure your own safety.”
I straightened. Shela was about to fall down next to me. Nantar would be here soon – and could easily walk into an ambush. My kids were exhausted, and the Rhor problem had been dealt with.
“I appoint you Duke of your own city, Dragor Volkha,” I informed him. “You can take a knee to me this evening before the formal meal.”
Dragor inclined his head, still smiling.
“I’ll trust you to find out which of your Regulars you can and cannot trust,” I told him. “Until then, I’ll maintain my own Wolf Soldier guard.”
“As expected, your Imperial Majesty,” Dragor said.
“I don’t suppose you know where General Daharef is?” I asked.
“He occupies my former cell,” Dragor said. “I’ll have him freed and reinstated.”
“See that you do.”
I took 100 Wolf Soldiers to my personal guard and returned to the family tower. Nantar hadn’t yet arrived with D’gattis, and I left word that, when they did, I should be summoned. Once I had Shela tucked into our room, I left Eric to take care of the removal of the bodies from our tower, and Dagi to have two more rooms made ready. Then I saw to General Daharef myself.
The curl had left his grey moustache, his bald head was sweaty and streaked with dirt. Beneath all of that, he was as angry as I’d seen him, and seemed almost disappointed that he didn’t get to take his vengeance on Rhor.
“Dragor, my Lord – are you sure?” he asked me, as we left the dungeons, surrounded by twenty Wolf Soldiers.
“Sometimes you move to a new place, but the former owner leaves his guard dog,” I said. “The dog isn’t loyal to you, but he is to the place. If you don’t press the dog, and feed it well, it will realize that he can finish out his days doing what he’s done, and questions his loyalty to the one who left him behind.”
“And Dragor is such a dog?” Daharef asked me.
“I think you can keep an eye on him,” I replied. We started up the steps that would take us to the palace. Torches flickered in sconces on the walls. Like any dungeon, especially one so near a large body of water, it was dank and musty-smelling.
“I’m more concerned that so many Volkhydrans put on Eldadorian green and still owe their allegiance to their former King,” I continued. “We need to do something about that.”
Daharef nodded. “I think some forays to the north – mix the new people with the veterans we trust,” he said. “See
who isn’t as eager to fight for Eldador.”
That was a good idea on its face, but not in practice. First of all, I didn’t want anything to the north, especially not ill will from the people living there. Second, the actual enemy to the north wasn’t someone I was willing to engage yet.
“Karel of Stone is here,” I said. “Locate him – or I’ll send him to you. He’s more suited to this – I’d be surprised if he didn’t have better ways that you and I would never think of.”
Daharef made a fist over his heart. “Of course, my Lord.”
Generals don’t like their ideas discounted, and I could see the Daharef was no exception. No less important was the idea that we had these newly trained Eldadorian Regulars that he wanted to rack up some victories with. When it comes to being a general - especially the generals of an Emperor who was going to have a lot of land to reassign - it paid to have your successes lined up, one after the other, behind you.
“Another thing, general,” I said, as he started to leave.
“My Lord?” he asked.
“Start your mind toward what lands you’d like to be responsible for, when you’re done with Eldadorian service,” I said. “Hopefully that’s a long way off, but your talents can’t be wasted.”
He smiled and inclined his head. “My Lord,” he said, acknowledging me.
Another thing about generals – they work best when they’re moving in one direction.
Emperors work best when they’ve had a couple hours of sleep, and I set about to rectify that.
***
One benefit of having no armor was that I could undress myself, and that meant that I could just crawl into bed with Shela when I wanted to, which was right then.
It felt like my head had barely grazed the pillow when a knock came at the door.
Shela was still asleep. I rose up in bed and looked to the window to see that there was pink light seeping in through the chinks in the shutters. It was dusk – my sword shone a dull, blue light beside me, resting against the night table, like it always did.
“Yes?” I called to the door.
“Their Lords Nantar and D’gattis have arrived, and await you in their rooms,” a voice with an Uman accent informed me. I acknowledged him and put on my clothes.
