Heirs of the Enemy

by Richard S. Tuttle

  “Well,” Clint replied as his meal was served, “I do not see his absence as a loss for the Federation. Frankly, Garibaldi was a waste in terms of being an officer or a representative. Are you still leading the F Corps?”

  “Oh, goodness no.” General Fabio shook his head exaggeratedly. “I was already leaning towards getting rid of them before the incident with the center. When Grand General Kyrga suggested putting them back in prison, I wholeheartedly agreed. Life is much simpler without them.”

  Clint nodded distractedly and ate in silence. He glanced up a few times and saw Fabio staring at him as if a question was poised on his lips, but he was afraid to ask it. Clint finished the meal and pushed his plate away.

  “What do you want to ask?” inquired Clint.

  “I am not sure,” admitted General Fabio. After a few moments of silence, Fabio leaned forward again and lowered his voice to a whisper. “Take no offense at my words, but questions are being asked about you that lead me to believe that you might share the same fate as Garibaldi. People are wondering if you truly are who you say you are.”

  “Did I step on someone’s toes?” chuckled Clint.

  General Fabio frowned. “You should take this seriously. It is no laughing matter.”

  “My history is well documented,” Clint replied seriously. “My family can be traced back through centuries of Tyronian history. Would these questions happen to be coming from Colonel Taerin?”

  “So you do know what this is all about.” General Fabio nodded. “He has been in here at least three times this week with questions. He probes for information in every conversation I have ever had with you. What did you do to upset him?”

  “It was merely a misunderstanding,” answered Clint. “With so much going on this week, I thought I would deal with it when the celebration was over, but I guess I should address it today. Was Colonel Taerin the only one asking questions?”

  “Yes, and he didn’t want anyone to know that he was asking them. What is it all about?”

  “I am not at liberty to discuss it in detail,” replied Clint, “but it involves a special assignment that I undertook for the emperor. I think Colonel Taerin overhead a portion of my report, but not the entire report. I will calm his fears immediately.”

  “Special assignment for the emperor?” echoed General Fabio. “Why are you shown such favor in Despair while I am tossed aside?”

  “The assignment was not a favor,” Clint smiled as he rose to his feet. “In fact, it was quite dangerous. Be thankful that they allowed you to remain within the safety of the Imperial Palace.”

  Clint exited the room, leaving a puzzled General Fabio behind. He had considered Colonel Taerin’s suspicions to be a minor setback, but now that the colonel was asking questions, he needed to put a stop to it quickly. He entered one of the large rooms filled with celebrants and started across the floor. He was only halfway across when he caught sight of Colonel Taerin out of the side of his eye. He pretended not to notice and continued across the room and out of the palace.

  Clint strode swiftly across the landscaped lawns of the palace towards his favorite bench near the waterfront. Two-thirds of the way there, he had to round a large hedge that divided the estate in sections. Just beyond the hedge was a stand of trees and then the bench. Clint rounded the hedge and immediately dropped to the ground. A few moments later, he heard footsteps moving quickly across the lawn and then Colonel Taerin appeared, moving quickly but quietly towards the stand of trees. Clint immediately rose and stole after the colonel. While the colonel slowly moved through the trees to get within sight of the bench, Clint moved up behind him.

  “There is a better view of the bay from the bench,” Clint said softly.

  Colonel Taerin whirled around, his face red with embarrassment.

  “Perhaps we should both go and sit on the bench,” suggested Clint. “I have heard that it is a great place to clear the air. After you, Colonel.”

  Colonel Taerin nodded silently as he turned and headed for the bench. Clint followed. Neither of them spoke until they were both seated on the bench.

  “I am disappointed that you would question my loyalty solely on the word of a man who has a history of not understanding truth when he saw it.”

  “What are you talking about?” questioned the colonel.

  “Let’s not play games, Taerin. I know what Kent told you. There is no truth to the allegations, but I didn’t think you would believe me if I told you that, so I have said nothing, but I cannot allow you to go around besmirching my reputation.”

  “I believed in you, Forshire,” scowled the colonel, “but Kent’s words ring too true. I do not think he had the imagination to make up such things.”

  “Kent had almost no imagination,” Clint agreed with a thin smile. “I think he was honest with you when he said he heard those things from my men, but that does not make the allegations true.”

  “How would you even know what Kent told me?” questioned the colonel.

  “Because he told me before he left the palace grounds.”

  “That is a lie,” Colonel Taerin said accusingly. “You never saw Kent the night he left. I arranged for him to flee.”

  “You arrangements would have cost Kent his life,” retorted Clint. “Were you unaware that Kyrga had notified the gate guards to seize him as soon as he showed his face? You set him up to die. I don’t think you did it intentionally, but that would have definitely been the result of your meddling in my affairs.”

  “Meddling in your affairs?” retorted the colonel. “I think that you spin so many tales that you no longer can keep track of your own lies. If Kyrga’s men would have killed Kent when I helped him escape, how can I believe that he got away freely when you supposedly helped him to escape? Do you have some secret way of getting out of the palace grounds?”

  “I talked Kyrga into letting him go,” Clint said softly and calmly. “Kyrga issued a gate pass good until the morning, and the Grand General agreed to allow me to separate Kent from the army if he promised to leave the city within two days. Both of these documents are on file, Taerin. When Kent understood that I truly meant to keep my word, he apologized to me for what he had told you.”

  Colonel Taerin’s eyes clouded with confusion. The fact that such records were kept was true, and it was something he could verify within minutes. General Forshire would not risk making such a declaration unless it was true, because he would otherwise be admitting that he was a fraud if the documents did not exist.

  “Assuming the records exist,” probed the colonel, “that still leaves Kent’s accusations intact, even if he did apologize for telling me about them.”

  “You are correct,” agreed Clint. “I think we can both safely assume that Kent heard the stories from my men. So what am I supposed to do about it? Should I punish my men for making wild speculations about things they do not understand?”

  “Are you saying that Kent heard questions rather than statements?”

  “If he heard statements of fact, they were lies. Now, my men have been known to lie, Colonel. Heck, they are all convicts, but I will give you leave to interrogate any of my men if that will fill your need for interrogations. What I have a problem with, is you asking questions of others outside my command. Even innocent questions can call my loyalty into doubt, and I cannot stand idly by while you besmirch my reputation. I would be forced to demand a court of inquiry to settle the matter once and for all.”

  “Are you prepared to do that?” asked the colonel.

  “No man likes to draw attention to himself in such a way,” sighed General Forshire, “but if you leave me no choice, yes.”

  “I want to believe you, Forshire, but these allegations are serious.”

  “More serious than you can imagine, Colonel. If I am forced into a court of inquiry, I will demand that Kent return to Despair to testify. I fear that would endanger his life. Grand General Kyrga does not want to ever see him again.”

  Colonel Taerin sighed deeply.
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  “Let’s go through the allegations,” suggested Clint as he reached into his pouch and extracted the melted coins he had retrieved from the cabin fire. He handed the coins to the colonel. “Those are the coins taken from the rebel mage. Among those present when they were retrieved were General Tauman and several of his black-cloaks. As he happens to be in the palace right now, you can easily verify that he was there.”

  “But you could have placed them on the body beforehand,” Colonel Taerin pointed out.

  “They were found on the body of a mage,” retorted the general. “Just how do you suppose I could place those coins on a mage before I killed her?”

  “What if she was long dead?”

  “Then who cast the magic that brought General Tauman and his mages running towards the battle scene? Am I now being accused of being a mage as well? Or do you suspect one of my convicts of being a mage?”

  “It was battlefield magic that caused Tauman to respond?”

  “It is all in the report I filed with Grand General Kyrga.” Clint nodded.

  “Alright,” conceded the colonel, “but what about the loyalty of your men. Kent stated that they are more loyal to you than the Federation. Do you deny that, too?”

  “No,” smiled Clint. “That is actually rather accurate.”

  “Soldiers are supposed to place loyalty to the Federation over all else.”

  “The Federation threw my men into prisons,” countered Clint. “I got them released. Who would you expect them to be loyal to? I figure that as long as they are loyal to me, they will have no choice but to be loyal to the Federation as well. The A Corps is not exactly a model army, Taerin. If their worst fault is being loyal to their general, be very glad that they are under my command.”

  Colonel Taerin thought for a moment and finally nodded in agreement. “I am truly sorry for doubting you, General Forshire. I guess I tend to see conspiracies where none exist.”

  “There are other conspiracies afoot?” frowned the general.

  “I am very concerned about the emperor,” stated Colonel Taerin. “He does not seem himself any more.”

  “I am sure that there is a great deal of stress involved with a week of celebrations in the palace.”

  “That would not cause the emperor stress,” countered the colonel. “Emperor Jaar thrives on attention. He loves it. The very fact that hundreds of people have come to the palace to celebrate would make the emperor the happiest he has been in ages, yet he does not seem happy at all. His guards have been changed permanently, and I am no longer admitted into his presence. Even when I manage to arrange a chance meeting in the celebration rooms, he turns away from me as if I am tainted with some dread disease. I have never seen him like this.”

  “After we spoke on the first day of the celebration, I suspected that Kyrga might be holding the emperor prisoner, but that turned out to be false. Emperor Jaar appears to have free run of the palace. I think you are seeing problems where none exist. Perhaps he has taken exception to something you have done?”

  “If he has,” sighed the colonel, “I cannot imagine what it is. Would you be willing to speak to him for me?”

  “Certainly,” agreed General Forshire. “I shall do so right now.”

  The colonel nodded thankfully, but remained seated as Clint rose and strode back to the mansion. He entered the building and made his way straight to the emperor’s office. The guards stationed outside the doors refused to admit General Forshire.

  “He asked not to be disturbed.”

  “It is a matter of some importance,” lied Clint. “Will you at least let him know that I am here and want to talk to him?”

  “We are not allowed to do so,” replied the guard. “Make your request to Grand General Kyrga. Maybe he can arrange a meeting.”

  Clint frowned and opened his mouth to protest, but he halted as he thought better of starting a confrontation. He nodded dutifully and returned to the bench near the waterfront. Colonel Taerin was still there waiting to hear what happened.

  “The guards would not even announce me. I was told to speak to Grand General Kyrga to schedule an appointment.”

  “Something is wrong,” declared the colonel. “One doesn’t go from being fired to suddenly arranging who gets to see the emperor. Kyrga has some hold over the emperor.”

  Chapter 11

  Great Disturbance

  The male fairy soared westward through the dark night sky. He didn’t bother to look down at the vast expanse of water under him, nor did his gaze vary left or right. His tired eyes focused solely on the tall volcano straight ahead of him, although it was not a volcano in the normal sense. It was the Mountain of Death and its icy blue slopes had never seen lava flowing down them. While it certainly had a crater in place of its peak, the Sword of Heavens, and not a volcanic eruption, had caused the deformity. Inside the cone of the mountain was Alcea’s greatest secret. It was inside the Mountain of Death that the lower half of Alutar remained frozen like an unfinished statue.

  The male fairy, weary from the long flight, glided down into the cone of the Mountain of Death. He lighted on the lower half of Alutar, and a female fairy soared excitedly to meet him.

  “You are late,” scowled the female fairy. “I was to be relieved two days ago.”

  “It is not my fault,” sighed the male fairy. “Prince Midge is gathering fairies from all over Alcea for an important mission. I was not given permission to relieve you until just this morning.”

  “This morning?” frowned the female fairy. “But that means that you must have flown all the way from Tagaret without stopping in Dalek.”

  “That is exactly what I did. I am tired.”

  “Poor thing,” soothed the female fairy. “Maybe I can make it up to you?”

  The male fairy’s eyes grew large with excitement, but he sighed and shook his head. “I am too tired for anything but sleep right now. I doubt that I will wake up before you are gone.”

  “Then I will stick around for a day,” grinned the female fairy. “I am due for a month off after this shift. I can spend it anywhere I want.”

  “Not if Prince Midge runs across you.”

  “Then I am definitely going to spend a few more days here. I haven’t had any time off in a year.”

  “Why do you need time off when you get to spend a month at a time out here with nothing to do?”

  “That is the problem,” scowled the female fairy. “There is absolutely nothing to do out here. It is boring. No one ever comes to visit. Fairies aren’t meant to live alone. We are very social creatures.”

  The fairies were so involved with their conversation that they did not notice the scores of crows gathering on the rim of the volcano. The birds leaped into the cone en masse. The fairies heard the flapping of wings and looked up in surprise, but they never even had time to defend themselves or flee. The crows attacked instantly, tearing the small fairy bodies apart with their beaks. With the fairies dispatched, the crows landed on the floor of the chamber, and one by one they transformed into black-cloaks. When they were finished transforming, one-hundred black-cloaks stood around the lower half of Alutar.

  “I want this done quickly,” ordered Seiko, the leader of the expedition. “Half of you will position yourselves on the rim up above and the other half down here. We will levitate Alutar out of the mountain and onto the ship below. Remember that it is our Master that you are levitating. Do not be careless, but I want to set sail by dawn. With any luck, it will be a month before their loss is discovered, but we cannot depend upon that. I want our ship well away from this island when they do discover Alutar missing.”

  The black-cloaks worked through the night to move the massive bulk of Alutar’s lower half. When they finally set it down on the huge ship, the ship settled low in the water. Only inches of freeboard remained, and the captain of the ship frowned deeply.

  “It is far heavier than we were led to believe,” complained the captain. “This ship is not large enough to handle it.”
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br />   “This ship will handle it,” declared Seiko. “It fits on the deck and the water is not coming over the rails.”

  “Aye,” sighed the captain, “but will the ship move? It wasn’t designed to sit so low in the water. Even with the sails full of wind, we may not be able to make headway against the currents.”

  “My men will keep your sails full of wind,” promised Seiko. “You just steer us towards Zara.”

  * * * *

  Fakir Aziz led his band of mages through the filthy slums of Farmin. As they walked down the street, people warily moved into the shadows, their eyes peeking nervously at the strangers as they passed by.

  “This is not what I would call a warm welcome,” Atule commented anxiously, his eyes constantly scanning the dark places for signs of an ambush. “Are you sure that you know where you are going, Fakir?”

  “Mind your step, Master Atule,” Crystil replied sneeringly. “You are in danger of soiling that magnificent robe.”

  Atule looked down at the filthy street with disgust. The street reminded him more of an open sewer than a roadway in one of the major cities of the Federation. He hoisted his robe a bit higher and tightly cinched it.

  “I was not referring to the waste at our feet,” he retorted. “I am more concerned with an unprovoked altercation. There must be a better route to get to our destination.”

  “Perhaps you could snap your fingers and transport us far away,” cackled the witch.

  Atule narrowed his eyes as he glared at the old hag. He was not sure what he had done to raise the woman’s ire, but her constant sniping was beginning to get on his nerves. The Mage ignored the banter as he continued to lead the group through the never-ending maze of streets and alleys. Eventually, he halted near a major intersection. He turned and faced the group.

  “This is our destination,” he announced. “Get settled in. I will be back later.”

  Most of the group nodded with acceptance, but Atule frowned deeply as he slowly pivoted in a complete circle, examining each building closely. When he had completed his inspection, Fakir was gone.