by Ryan McCall
Flint looked at him. “Your Imperial Majesty, if you would please stand here.”
Lawrence did as the captain asked. His guards surrounded him in a human shield and Flint went to the front to lead them.
They did not have much trouble getting through the upper floors of the building, but when they arrived at the ground floor they came across most of his delegation. They had been woken by the noises of the battle outside. They wanted to know what was going on, but had not risked opening the main doors.
“Your Imperial Majesty,” asked Siobhan. “Are the Galrians truly attacking?”
“I’m afraid so Minister Mason,” he replied from behind his guards. “They were deceiving us all along. Leading us on so we would let our guard down and they could buy time.” Siobhan deflated at that. Like him, she had truly believed they had been making headway with the Galrians.
“Minister Mason, it would be best if you let the Imperial Guards do their duty” said Kate. “They have to get the emperor away before the Galrians close off the town.”
“Of course,” said Siobhan, admonished. “I’m sorry, Your Imperial Majesty. You must go now.”
Lawrence’s blood was boiling. These were his people, his officials and friends, and he had no choice but to leave them. He wanted to say something to Captain McLaren, but he didn’t. Flint was solely focused on one objective, getting him out of here safely. He didn’t have time to concern himself with anyone else in the building.
“Listen to me all of you,” said Lawrence. “Do not resist. They won’t risk firing the cannons at this building. When they ask for your surrender, accept it. You will not be forgotten. I will bring each and every one of you back to Alkos.” All of them bent down on their knees in a gesture of respect.
Flint discussed the best way out of the building with his men. “We can’t go out the front, they’ll see us,” said Flint.
“So what, they’ll know we have the emperor, there’s no way they’ll fire on us,” replied his second in command.
“I’m not risking the emperor’s life on the whims of Galrian bloodlust. Once we’ve distracted them, you sneak out with the emperor.” His second nodded. Flint ordered ten of the guard to line up behind him.
“What are you doing captain?” asked Lawrence, he didn’t like where this was going.
Flint grimaced. “I’m creating a distraction so my lieutenant can get you away safely,” he replied. “Unbar the door,” he ordered and two of the guards kicked the bar off.
Lawrence clenched his fists, more of his people going to die and he had to leave them.
Flint pressed his body to the door alongside the other guards. “Ready. One, two, three!” They gave it a push and it swung open. “Fire!” yelled Flint at the top of his lungs. He and all of his men unloaded their Jaguars towards the surprised Galrian soldiers.
None of the carriages or soldiers were aiming at the stone building, so at first Flint and his men had the advantage.
“Move now,” said the lieutenant guardsman. His human shield moved and Lawrence moved with it.
The outside was full of smoke and the sharp smell of powder from the cannons. Many of Rampart’s buildings were on fire and a few had collapsed. He didn’t want to know how many people the Galrians had massacred.
His guards pushed him to the right and he followed their lead. He watched as Captain McLaren kept yelling at his men to fire, but they were being picked off by the more numerous Galrian riflemen.
Flint took several hits in the chest and the man went down. It saddened him to see such a brave and loyal man die. Then he heard a sound that concerned him even more.
The Galrian artillery crews had decided to turn their attention to the irritation that had interrupted them. The cannons boomed and the building behind Lawrence was hit several times, pieces of it shattering and narrowly missing him and his guards. Another series of booms sounded and this time they didn’t miss. There was an explosion of grass and dirt right next to him and Lawrence felt himself being lifted into the air.
The entire world spun between the night sky and the ground as he was flung around from the force of the explosion. Lawrence couldn’t hear anything but a terrible ringing.
He finally landed on his back, the hit jarring his muscles. He felt an even sharper pain on his left leg. He tried to look down, but his vision was blurry. He moved his head to get a better look. The bone was sticking out of his shin. He had landed on the body of one of his guards. Looking at the injury increased the pain and he clenched his teeth as a shard of hot agony ran along the length of his lower leg.
He was finding it hard to think, his vision was wavy and distorted like the air on a hot summer day. He heard another series of booms, but this time it was faint. He could hear the whistling of the cannon balls, but it sounded no louder than that of a morning bird. His last thought before they landed was of Clara.
***
Pyotr Skalov was in an ugly mood. Not because of the attack on Rampart, that had gone splendidly. No Galrian casualties and once the watch and guards had been dealt with, the rest of the town had meekly surrendered.
No, the reason for his foul mood was due to an over eager artillery officer who had fired exactly where he shouldn’t have. Pyotr was now looking at a pile of dead Alkon Imperial Guards surrounding the corpse of Emperor Lawrence McRath the Second.
He stomped back to the nearest carriage, the one that had fired its cannons at the buildings he had explicitly ordered Colonel Traxus Pavina not to fire at. He climbed up and approached the officer who was doing a good job of not looking worried. Pyotr pushed him off the side of the carriage and the man fell onto the grass with yelp of surprise.
He then jumped down and beat the man, while yelling at him, “You idiotic goat-fucker!!”
He kept hitting him, again and again until he was wheezing from the effort. This wheezing was not faked. His fists were sore and covered in the man’s blood. He had left him alive, though his face was never going to be the same again and he only had half as many of his teeth than before.
“Colonel Pavina,” he called out loudly. Traxus Pavina, a man in a green and black Galrian officer’s uniform approached him. He was tall and muscular, with a square jawed face and shaven head.
“Lord Skalov?” he asked.
“Find a small building that hasn’t collapsed and put that man in it, until I decide what is to be done with him.”
“Of course.” The colonel called his men to take the artillery officer away.
“The Second Army is approaching, my lord,” said Traxus. “They will set up here for the night and continue in the morning where they will rendezvous with the other forces for the attack on Sethain.”
“Excellent,” he replied. “This is bad business colonel. I was expecting to be taking the Alkon emperor back to Urdov in chains. Now all I have is dead body. The Alkons will not be happy when they hear about this. They will be fighting with vengeance in their hearts.”
“My lord, what’s done is done. We cannot bring their emperor back to life. All we can do now is to contain it as best we can.”
“And how do you propose we do that?” he asked.
“We make it look as if his death was accidental,” suggested Traxus. They will still blame us no doubt. But at least we can present a story that may lessen the damage.”
“There’s an entire building full of the emperor’s delegation that would be able to attest to the exact opposite of that,” he pointed out.
“Not if we make it look like we simply attacked every building here. We can say we thought their emperor had already escaped.”
Pyotr pondered on it for a few moments. “No, the damage has already been done.” He pointed at the largest building with the captured prisoners and officials. “Everyone in there is still valuable as a hostage, put them into the carriages and send them to Nesjovo.”
Pyotr watched in satisfaction while Traxus carried out his orders. He moved off to prepare for the arrival of the Second Army and thoug
ht about what he would say when he arrived in Urdov and had to answer to the king.
Chapter 59
Professor Nathaniel Smith was saying something important, but Reese barely noticed. His mind was elsewhere, as it had been for the entire week. After arriving back from Crean Valley and being questioned by the Custodian Service, Reese had been taken to the university security office. He was put in a chair and informed of the death of his best friend.
He did nothing but sit in stunned silence. Cassandra had taken him back to his room and tried to talk to him, but he hadn’t responded.
It was only later, when he found the note from his sister, did Michael’s death make sense.
Dear Rius,
I am truly sorry for the death of your friend. I should not have let it happen. I dropped my guard because I wanted to see you again. It was all for nothing, you weren’t even here. The man the watch will have found is an assassin from the Arm, sent to investigate after I killed my contractor. I blame myself entirely. I should have never come back to the university and it cost the life of your friend.
I know this will be of little comfort, but you can rest assured that your friend will be avenged. The Arm will know by now that I have betrayed them. They will be coming for me. I intend to take the fight to them before that happens. Not for my sake, but for yours.
You will never be safe while they are after me. So I am leaving Alkos City. I do not know if I will survive this or if I will ever see you again. I am truly thankful to know that you are alive and well. Do not try to find me, you will have no success. I was trained to avoid detection and you would only invite attention from assassins like the one who killed your friend. You will be safe if you keep your head down and stick to your studies.
Your Loving Sister
Lucina
After placing the note in his cupboard, he realized that he had lost his father’s journal. To lose that on top of everything else had been the last straw.
He had collapsed on the floor in despair, his eyes watering, his face planted against the cold, unforgiving wooden floorboards. He must have fallen asleep, because the next thing he knew it was morning.
He’d been distracted and unable to think straight ever since. His mind was full of conflicting emotions. He wasn’t sure what he should do. Cassandra was there for him, but even talking with her did no good. He felt like he was drowning in a pool of anger. The news of the Rampart massacre and the death of the emperor had shocked him out of it, but his depression remained.
“Mr. Galius?”
Reese was snapped out of his thoughts by the loud voice of Professor Smith. “Yes professor?” he asked.
“I asked if you knew the name of the Minakayan warlord who led the invasion of south-east Maceon in 552PF? Or am I boring you?” asked Nathaniel.
“Uh…” Reese was stuck. He didn’t have a clue to the answer since he hadn’t been paying attention in class or reading the assigned sections in his textbooks.
He took a guess, “Ujikane, Lord of Shugo?”
The professor gave him a look of disapproval. “No. Ujikane was Lord of Shugo at the onset of the Clan Period, which was in 220ATD. The answer I was looking for was Heihara of Tora. Nathaniel went back to what he had been writing on the chalk board and continued with the lecture.
At the end of the class as Reese was leaving, Professor Smith stopped him. “Mr. Galius, may I have a brief word?”
Reese turned back to his professor and shrugged, “I guess.”
If his professor had taken offense at his dismissive tone, his face didn’t betray it. “You’re one of the best students in the class. But I’ve noticed that you have become distracted recently.” Reese opened his mouth to protest but Nathaniel put a hand up to stop him. “You’ve suffered a lot I know. The death of close friend can be devastating. Added on top of that, the trauma you endured at Crean. Varos knows it would be troubling for anyone to focus with all of that, let alone a young student trying to find his place in the world. Have you been talking to anyone?”
Fuck this is all I need thought Reese. A bloody religious fool trying to tell me how his church can ‘solve’ my problems.
He noticed the little comment to Varos that Nathaniel had made. He had never known anyone who wasn’t a Varonite to use it. He was surprised, he wouldn’t have pegged the quiet and scholarly professor as someone to believe in superstitious nonsense. Professor Smith’s classes were always taught in a methodical and evidential approach towards history. The man did not take the same approach to his personal life and code of beliefs.
Sure enough, he passed a pamphlet over to Reese, which read Varos can help you find your way.
“I know what most people think of this,” said Nathaniel, “but I’m not trying to pressure you or anything. Merely offering you an option. These are trying times for all of us. The entire nation is in mourning. The loss of our emperor has transformed us. I hope that you are talking to a counselor, because I suspect they will be busy over the coming weeks”
Reese took the pamphlet to humor the man. “Yes, I am,” he replied. A complete and total lie. He couldn’t talk to a counselor or anyone. How could he? He knew exactly what had happened to his friend and why, but if he said anything his sister would be in danger. Not only from the authorities, but from the deadliest killers in the world.
“Good,” said Nathaniel. “I hope to see back to your usual level of attention and participation soon then.”
As soon as he left the lecture hall, Reese shoved the pamphlet into the nearest trashcan. He couldn’t care less about the Church of Varos. He had real issues to deal with and they were eating away at him. If he wanted to he could have reported Professor Smith.
Handing out religious pamphlets to students was skating on thin ice as far as the Separation of Religions Act was concerned. But he didn’t care enough to do that.
One thing that Nathaniel had said rang true to him though. The Alkon Empire and its people had been transformed. Whatever had happened at Rampart, the fact remained that Emperor Lawrence had been killed during a Galrian sneak attack. Alkons everywhere were demanding justice, the paperboys called out daily with headlines promoting war.
Whenever Reese overheard conversations of the war there was rage in people’s voices. With everything that had happened, Reese had grasped onto his sense of patriotism and held onto it with everything. It was all he had left amongst the whirlwind that had torn through his life.
He sat on a metal chair at the edge of a sea of grass, watching students walk and mingle along the walkways that crossed the grass. All of his studies about zoology and the colossi felt so meaningless now.
“Reese.” He looked up to see the smooth face of Cassandra. She had let her hair out and it was waving in the breeze. It was a good look for her. She sat down next to him.
“Don’t bother asking me how I am,” he said. “I’m sick to death of being asked that.”
“I wasn’t planning to. I know that feels.”
“I guess you do.” She was doing better than she had been. She wasn’t drinking her grief away anymore and was attending classes on a regular basis. The light breeze picked up and brought with it a chilly bite. Autumn was almost over, the wind had the fingers of winter in it.
“You look like you have serious thoughts swirling around in your head. Any interest in sharing them?” she asked.
Some, but definitely not others he thought. He couldn’t share anything about his sister. “I lost my father’s journal. It must have happened at Crean. I should never have taken it, stupid idea anyway.”
“Not stupid. You wanted to see where your father had explored. I imagine it would make you feel closer to him. Besides it could turn up. The site’s under lockdown right now, but once it’s reopened they’ll find it. You should ask Professor Xerin to keep an ear out for it amongst her friends who’ll be on the site.”
“Or those raiders have their hands on it. All my father’s secrets spilled to relic-hunting criminals,” he replied. Recent
events had taught him not to hope for the best.
“You’re being too hard on yourself,” she said. She placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. It felt good, but the small gesture couldn’t help.
“Thanks,” he said. He stood up and looked her in the eyes. “You’ve been a good friend Cassandra, but I need time to myself to think. I have to make a decision.”
She nodded. “Ok, if you say so. I’ll be around if you need to talk.”
“Thanks,” he said and left her at the chair. As he walked he thought about his options. As much as he loved zoology, it was no good if he couldn’t be free to use it. It hadn’t saved his father and mother and it hadn’t been able to stop the agorid and her men.
He needed to find out what they were after and how it related to his father’s work. But more than that, he needed to learn how to defend himself and others. He didn’t want to see what happened to Michael happen to anyone else he cared about. He had to do something to back control.
Chapter 60
The men and women in the Imperial Council Chamber of Alkos were deathly quiet as Minister-General Sanya Kodiak spoke in front of them. Tessa had never attended a council meeting with such a tense atmosphere.
“Councilors and ministers., I thank you all for coming here at such short notice, but as you are all no doubt aware our nation has suffered a grievous blow. Emperor Lawrence McRath was killed during the despicable sneak attack on the town of Rampart and the First Army. May His Imperial Majesty rest in peace.”
A low murmur went through the room as everyone repeated the sentiment.
“I have received many reports, several of which come to us from Director Talmach’s agents.”
Tessa waited with bated breath as Sanya spoke. This was the first official confirmation of the events of the Galrian attack. Her hands were tightly pressed against the rough cloth of the table in front of her. The seat next to her was empty, Siobhan having been in Rampart with the emperor. She hoped that her friend was still alive, but no word had been received of the Galrians taking prisoners.
