Heirs of the Enemy

by Richard S. Tuttle

“Kyrga is not to know then?”

  “No one is to know. Don your imperial robes. I want you to walk around the palace this morning to see if anyone confides in you. Pay particular attention to General Forshire. While his alibi appears to be solid, he is not Baroukan. See if he speaks of your family, but do not appear to be baiting him. Be subtle.”

  Lord Kommoron turned and left the emperor’s suite. He walked to Kyrga’s office and entered without knocking. The Grand General rose from his chair when he saw who had entered the room.

  “Emperor Jaar and I have come to an accommodation. He is to be restricted no longer. You will serve him as you are supposed to serve the emperor. Is that clear?”

  Grand General Kyrga frowned deeply as he shook his head vigorously. “No, it is not clear. If you restore Jaar to power, he will have me killed.”

  “Do not fear Emperor Jaar,” smiled Lord Kommoron. “He serves me now, and you will faithfully serve him. Restore his personal bodyguard and remove your men.”

  Grand General Kyrga stood dumbfounded as Lord Kommoron turned and left the room. For several minutes, he did not move. As the shock wore off, Kyrga sighed nervously and summoned a trusted officer. He issued the orders necessary to comply with the noble’s commands, but he purposely avoided any contact with Emperor Jaar. He was not about to test Lord Kommoron’s promise until he had a chance to view things from a distance.

  * * * *

  General Forshire sat on a bench on the grounds of the Imperial Palace in Despair. He gazed out over the Sea of Tears and pondered the odds of really ending the upcoming war before it started.

  “I have missed finding you out here on this bench,” Colonel Taerin said as he approached.

  Clint glanced up at the colonel and smiled. “This will be my last chance to meditate here for some time. I am leaving within the hour to rejoin my men in Olansk.”

  The colonel sat on the bench next to the general and sat silently for a moment before speaking.

  “The emperor is out of his suite for the first time in weeks.”

  “Is he?” Clint asked with genuine surprise. “Is he still avoiding you?”

  “Not at all,” frowned the colonel, “yet neither is he friendly as he once was. I do not understand him.”

  Clint also frowned, but not for the same reason. He could not imagine that Kyrga would allow the emperor to roam freely around the palace.

  “I assume he still has his special guards close about him?”

  “Not at all,” answered Colonel Taerin. “In fact, he has his old bodyguards back, both at his suite and about his person. One would think that he is as he always was, but I cannot help wondering about his change. I must have done something terribly wrong to be ignored by him. Have you talked to him recently?”

  A chill of warning raced up Clint’s back, but he kept his expression bland. “I only arrived late last night, as you well know, and I am leaving within the hour. I am afraid that I will have no time to speak with the emperor. How close were you to Emperor Jaar before the celebration?”

  “I liked to think that he highly favored me,” shrugged the colonel, “but obviously I have been deluding myself. The emperor took you into his confidence once when he asked you to investigate the Kent matter. He must think highly of you. Perhaps you could talk to him before you leave?”

  Clint frowned at the request. The last thing he wanted to do at this point was to be seen talking to Emperor Jaar. As he sat staring out at the sea, he found his hand toying with Morro’s hourglass in his pouch. It reminded him of the need to make personal contact with the elf before he headed north.

  “I am afraid that I cannot help you, Colonel. I am running behind schedule already. My advice to you is to let things be as they are. If you serve the emperor faithfully, he may once again take you under his wing.”

  “I may have misjudged you,” the colonel replied with disappointment. “I thought you were the one person here who would go out of his way to help me. The emperor has already shown that he trusts you. Am I asking so much of you?”

  Clint turned and looked into the colonel’s eyes as he spoke. “You have worked faithfully for both Emperor Jaar and Grand General Kyrga. At times, each of them has taken you into his confidence. I suspect that Kyrga realizes this, but I am positive that the emperor is aware of it. Perhaps the emperor’s fondness for you is the cause of his distance from you right now. If you truly have faith in the emperor then you should let it go. Carry out your orders as best you can and then wait. That is the best I can do for you, Taerin.”

  The general rose to his feet and walked away. He walked directly to the barracks where Colonel Donil waited with their mounts. They mounted and rode towards the front gates of the palace, but Emperor Jaar held up his hand for them to stop as they passed the front of the palace. The general and the colonel dismounted and bowed to the emperor.

  “Going for a ride, General Forshire?”

  “I am. I am returning to Olansk to take command of the A Corps. Is there some way that I might be of service to you before I depart?”

  The emperor stared at the general with an examining gaze. He remained silent for several minutes. Colonel Donil began to feel uncomfortable with the stony silence, but General Forshire stood calmly and stared into the emperor’s eyes waiting for an answer to his question. Zycara, unwilling to expose himself with any questions that might alert the general to the truth, finally smiled and nodded.

  “Have a safe journey, General.”

  Chapter 46

  Rookie Spy

  Prince Bultar’s horse faltered in the deep snow, unable to proceed any further. The prince swung off his mount and landed in snow up to his waist.

  “This is impossible,” he shouted over the roaring the winds. “The horses can go no farther.”

  Edmond Mercado nodded silently and dismounted. He pushed his way forward to get closer to the prince before speaking.

  “I have never seen the Kyber Road so deep in snow,” he shouted. “We will have to make camp until it melts.”

  “Melts?” the prince echoed mockingly. “It will be spring before this melts. We have enough rations for a week at most. We must turn back.”

  Edmond glanced upward as the wind ripped along the Kyber Road, piling the snow into drifts taller than a man. Even though it was near high sun, the sky was dark with thick storm clouds, and snow was falling at a furious pace. He shook his head exaggeratedly and returned his gaze to the Prince of Candanar.

  “There is no going back,” he shouted. “Our horses are spent, and soon we will be, too. Let’s lead the horses off the road and into the forest. The drifts should be more manageable in there.”

  As much as he wanted to turn around and head back to Zinbar, the prince nodded to the merchant. He moved around to create a break in the snow before leading his horse off the road. An hour later, the prince found a clearing sheltered by a half dozen huge mahogany trees. The snow in the clearing was only a few inches deep, and he sighed with relief as he sank to the ground and put his back to one of the trees. Edmond entered the clearing right behind him. The merchant frowned as he stooped to examine the horses.

  “They are used up. They would not have been able to carry us much further.”

  While the wind still howled, the sound was more distant as the large trees blocked most of the fury of the storm. The prince glanced up at Edmond. Fear was evident in Bultar’s face.

  “We aren’t going to make it to Ur, are we?”

  Edmond did not respond immediately. He stood and moved next to the prince before sliding down to sit in the snow with his back to a tree.

  “We are still over a week from Sebastian Pass,” the merchant said softly. “In my years of traveling the Kyber Road, I have never seen snow like this. If we do manage to make the pass, it will be closed. I have no doubts about that.”

  “Then we must go back,” the prince stated definitively.

  “No.” Edmond shook his head. “It took us five days to get this far, and it has b
een snowing every day since we left Zinbar. The road back will be as bad as the way forward.”

  “But there will be no closed pass at the end of our journey,” objected the prince. “It is our only chance to survive.”

  “Were we two merchants, I would agree with you, but you are the Prince of Candanar. Do not forget the words of the mystic. Certain death awaits you in Zinbar.”

  “We can not just stay here,” scowled the prince. “There is nothing to eat. We will freeze to death or die of starvation.”

  “We have the horses,” Edmond said softly. “We will not starve to death. If the wind dies down a bit, we can get a fire going. We will survive.”

  “Eat our horses?” balked the prince. “You truly believe the words of Wylan? You think someone is going to come along and whisk us away to safety? I have no such delusions. We are going to die here, Edmond. As much as I want to convince you to turn around and make our way back to Zinbar, deep down I know that even that journey is impossible. My only regret is that I have dragged you along on this foolish trip. Why did you so eagerly agree to accompany me?”

  “We are friends,” Edmond smiled. “Besides, I do believe in the mystic. No one else predicted the early winter.”

  “Even if Wylan is right,” frowned the prince, “he never said that you would be rescued, too. His vision only spoke of my being rescued.”

  “We are tired,” Edmond responded, “and exhaustion leads to depressing thoughts. Let us rest while we can. When we awaken, we will think more clearly about what we must do to survive this winter.”

  Prince Bultar sighed heavily and nodded to the merchant. “I suppose that freezing to death in your sleep is a painless death. Wake me when spring arrives.”

  Edmond smiled at the prince’s morbid humor and watched as Bultar spread a blanket out over the snow. When the prince’s back was turned, the merchant woke up the fairy and signaled for him to fly away. He then spent his efforts laying out his own blanket.

  * * * *

  Twerp shot down through the snow-laden branches of the trees and landed on Wylan’s shoulder. The Knight of Alcea turned his head and glanced questioningly at the fairy.

  “They are not going to make it as far as you expected,” reported Twerp. “They are still a full day’s ride from here.”

  “I am not surprised,” replied Wylan. “This storm is more fierce than I expected. Are they sleeping yet?”

  “They were preparing to sleep when I left. The winds are fierce above the trees. Will the unicorns be able to fly in such weather?”

  Cyrac snorted good humouredly. We can fly as well as fairies. Monocornus is a land of bitter winters. We will fly long after our passengers are frozen.

  “That is a comforting thought, Cyrac,” quipped the Knight of Alcea. “Let’s go gather our prince. Twerp, lead the way.”

  Wylan mounted his unicorn and turned to make sure the other two unicorns were prepared for the journey. With a nod to the fairy, Wylan gave the order to proceed. Twerp shot upward and hovered over the canopy. When the unicorns appeared, he darted southward towards the campsite of Edmond and Prince Bultar. The unicorns followed.

  * * * *

  General Forshire and Colonel Donil rode westward out of Despair. Neither of them spoke until they were well clear of the city.

  “Tell me of Alcea,” ordered the general.

  “It is an interesting place,” frowned the colonel. “I found the land to be richer than Zara, and the people were friendly. As you suggested, we befriended the locals, and we learned a great deal from them. I do not think the Alceans will offer much resistance to the armies of the Federation. I was in one of the groups to visit Tagaret, the capital city. While it has impressive walls, their army is incredibly weak. The locals also knew a great deal about the other major cities. None of them will offer much resistance.”

  Clint glanced at the man questioningly when he noticed the frown. “Such an easy victory does not appear to be pleasing to you. Why?”

  Colonel Donil did not reply.

  “You are sworn to me with more than loyalty,” General Forshire said sternly. “You are also sworn to honesty. I asked you a question. I expect a truthful answer.”

  Colonel Donil sighed heavily and nodded. “If I had a choice of lands to raise a family, I would choose Alcea without hesitation. The land is not perfect in any way, but there was no feeling of oppression that exists in every country of the Federation. When we spoke with the locals, we never got the feeling that they were sizing us up for an ambush down the road. When we spent money in the market, we never felt as if we were being cheated. It is hard for me to explain, General, but Alcea seemed to be everything that Zara is not. I understand that my sympathies are supposed to reside with the Federation, but I wish someone would call off the invasion and let those people be. They are no threat to us.”

  “Did the rest of your group feel the same way?”

  “We all felt that the invasion would be successful with merely half the men pledged to it, but the others felt no remorse for the coming invasion. I guess that I see things a little differently than most. I have seen the inside of the Federation prisons. Until you accepted me into the A Corps, no one has ever given a thought to my well being. I think that would not have been true in Alcea. Maybe I am a dreamer, but you asked for the truth.”

  “I did indeed,” replied Clint. “Does this mean that you will falter when it comes time for war?”

  “I have pledged my allegiance to you, General Forshire, and that is not something that I can turn my back on. I will fight to the death for you, but that does not mean that I will enjoy slaughtering Alceans.”

  “I wonder,” mused the general.

  “You need not wonder, General,” the colonel said forcefully. “You have given me a respectful life when no one else would. I have pledged my life to you, and I intend to honor my word. Do not take my personal thoughts as a repudiation of you.”

  “Would you fight just as eagerly if I asked you to defend the Alceans?”

  The colonel blinked and stared at the general as if he had two heads. Questioning furrows split his brow, but he nodded.

  “I am sorry if this disappoints you, General, but you demand honesty. Frankly, I would be more eager to defend the Alceans than attack them.”

  “Even though you would be more likely to die?”

  “I expect to die in this coming war,” frowned the colonel, “no matter which side I fight on, but I would rather die for something that gives hope to the people, not continued misery. The Federation is a government for the elite. People like me will never be anything but game pieces to be used by others.” The colonel frowned deeper as he glanced at the general. “I feel as if you are toying with me, General. Have I displeased you in some way? Do my feelings for Alcea cause you to doubt my worth?”

  “Your honesty is commendable,” smiled General Forshire, “but you still have a bit to learn about spying. I think you have grossly underestimated the Alceans. They are far more resourceful than you have reported.”

  “I spoke with most of the colonels who went to Alcea,” retorted Colonel Donil. “All of them agreed that the invasion of Alcea will be far easier than any invasion of the horse countries. Is there something about Alcea that you are aware of that I am not privy to?”

  “I know a great deal about Alcea,” Clint smiled. “Have you heard of the Alcean Rangers?”

  “A bit. They number around one thousand. They are supposed to be the elite guard of Tagaret. There is also a group called the Red Swords. They are not as talented as the Alcean Rangers, but they number three thousand. Both groups are highly thought of in Tagaret, but their numbers are far too few to make much of a difference in any siege.”

  “There is more to warfare than hiding behind a wall,” grinned Clint.

  “I agree, but that is how the Alceans fight. They built massive walls and will try to tire the attacking army while hiding behind them. That will not work against the Federation. Sixty thousand men will be a
ttacking Tagaret alone. The city walls cannot possibly withstand such an army.”

  “The Alcean Rangers do not hide behind walls,” stated Clint. “They fight in ways that the Federation will not expect.”

  “You appear to know far more than any of us learned in Alcea. If you don’t mind my asking, how do you know so much about the Rangers, Sir?”

  “I am an Alcean Ranger,” smiled Clint.

  “That is impossible,” gasped the colonel. “You are Tyronian. Colonel Magee said that he personally escorted you out of Ur.”

  “That he did.”

  “You are a general in the Federation.”

  “I am the Imperial General of the Federation,” grinned General Forshire. “The emperor personally issued my writ last night. I report directly to him and not Grand General Kyrga.”

  The colonel shook his head and frowned deeply. “You are having fun with me.”

  Clint halted Aeron, and the colonel halted alongside him.

  “I am an Alcean Ranger. I have been in this land for over a year. My initial task was to map Zara and learn more about the Federation which was intent on attacking my homeland. During the course of my spying, an opportunity arose to impersonate a Tyronian general. I took the gamble. Are you disappointed?”

  For several moments, neither man spoke. The colonel stared at his general with large eyes as if seeing him for the first time. Eventually, his lips parted in a broad grin.

  “Disappointed? Hardly. If the other Alcean Rangers are anything like you, I have seriously underestimated them.”

  “They are very much like myself. In fact, you will meet a few more of them in a short while. There is a group out here that is training the thieves of Despair.”

  “Much of the mystery about you makes sense now,” stated the colonel. “Staging the capture of rebels and freeing the elven children are now understandable. What of the A Corps? How do we fit into the battle plans?”

  “I am not sure yet,” answered Clint. “I have been negotiating with Emperor Jaar to avoid the war. I am hopeful that the war can be averted, but I am not willing to risk everything on it. How do you think the rest of A Corps would receive the news?”