Empire Awakening (Maledorian Chronicles Book 2)

by John Forrester

  “I doubt they will.” Jondran cast his eyes at the map. “They are determined to have their revenge. I’ve only now finished interrogating a prisoner.”

  “Did you learn anything useful?”

  “No. Other than the futility of trying to talk reason to them.”

  The wizard raised an eyebrow. “You only now figured that out? There is no reasoning with the Kingdom of Jalinfaer. Their rage is fueled by a deep-seated enmity. Perhaps you feel it toward them as well. You’ve been fighting in the war for years.”

  “I do feel it.” Jondran sighed. “Though, I’m tired of feeling it. They are people like us, only with different customs and beliefs.”

  “Now, you are on the road to reconciliation and peace.” Arcturius smiled. “The right road a young prince and leader of the kingdom should be traveling on now, for the real enemy lies in the north, not here on the battlefield.”

  Though he knew the wizard’s words were true, the prince wondered what he could do about it.

  “The hard part begins now, the waiting.” The wizard turned and studied the figures on the map. “Waiting for Cambria to see things from the correct perspective, waiting to see what those of Jalinfaer will do. The waiting is what kills you. The waiting and the wondering what is going on up in the capital. Every day, the situation grows worse.”

  “Have you heard from Madam Lassengre?”

  The old man’s face went pale as he gazed at the map. “They are building an army. Not of men but of constructs.”

  “What kind of constructs?” The prince found his shoulders stiffening.

  “They are somehow merging humans, animals, trees, and insects by casting dark spells and summoning magical constructs to life.”

  “What? But how?”

  “The sorceress has seen the monsters with her own eyes. Somehow, the demon inside the boy has taught the cultists an old kind of magic; one that is even unfamiliar to Madam Lassengre. Their spells shape human-like constructs made of wood and bone. Always in a forest, where the trees are alive, and their energy is merged with the living energy of the humans, animals, and insects used.”

  Jondran stood stunned, while the wizard narrowed his eyes, lost in thought. “The results are strange, sinewy fabrications, tough as trees and agile as cats. Each one is unique and horrific in its own way. When they march, their movements are eerily similar to insects, like ants or praying mantises. And when they fight, gods, what a horror. They set one against the strongest soldier in the capital, and the battle was over in seconds, with the man’s spine snapped by the construct.”

  Arcturius released a long, heavy exhalation. “May the gods help us.”

  The prince wasn’t sure the gods even cared. It was up to them, now, and none other.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  There were mornings when the witch Cambria wished she could have enjoyed a night of dreamless sleep. This morning was one of them. She slid her feet out of bed and sighed. This life wasn’t getting any better, and it had been going on far too long. Seeing Arcturius in her dream didn’t help.

  How did the man possess the nerve to insert himself into her dream after all these years? She thought she was done with the old fool. Well, she did admit he was a handsome fool. Still, she didn’t want to deal with him right now. And what was he spouting about with that silvery tongue of his? About a cult rising in Criswall, the king captured, royals slain, the Maledorians rising, and Ba’al summoned to life? It was all so ridiculous.

  But then why were her hands trembling? Of all the crazy things to worry about, the return of the Maledorians was certainly not the one. She, of all people, could attest to that. The ancient religion of the Maledorians and the worship of Ba’al was not something she ever wanted to return to the world. She’d hoped the whole thing—the entire idea of their unholy beliefs—had forever disappeared.

  She refused to think about it. Besides, there were more pressing issues, like a war with the Kingdom of Mar Thagroth. Their leaders were asking for her help in wiping out their armies. Cambria would have to refuse them, of course, at least three times. That’s how it worked. She had to make sure they believed in what they were doing. They needed to fail a few times before calling in Cambria and her coven of witches. It was important for them to be in the right, generous mindset.

  As she put on her silk slippers, her thoughts wandered once again to Arcturius. She smiled, unable to stop herself. The old fox had gotten more handsome with age, but his eyes still twinkled in boyish mischief. One of the many things about him that she found irresistible. If only he’d apologized after the last time they’d fought so many years ago.

  Why hadn’t he come back? He’d just vanished from her life. A weakness of character or perhaps he was overly sensitive. She had said some very harsh words about him, but those had been said out of anger. Maybe she should have apologized and reached out to mend the rift. But after the months had turned into years and the years into decades, the rift had ossified and turned into stone.

  Was her heart stone as well? Had all her feelings toward him dried up like leftover grapes hanging on the vine? She honestly didn’t know. There was a part of her that still cared for him, but there was also anger and resentment and self-hatred. Maybe they were better off being separated, having a chance to blossom on their own. Hadn’t she grown in the many years since they’d been apart? She was the most powerful witch in the Kingdom of Jalinfaer, respected and rich beyond her wildest dreams.

  But a part of her felt empty and still longed for him. Though she had tried her hardest to shut out that part of herself, to clamp down the feelings, still, they remained.

  A soft rap on her door. “Mistress?” The smooth, silky voice of her assistant, Jalia. The woman was a miracle; far more than an assistant but nosier, too.

  “Enter. I am awake.”

  Jalia peeked her pretty cocoa-colored face into the room, her expression hesitant. She wore a snug silk dress the color of flour that showed off her generous curves. Her amber eyes lowered as she entered the room.

  “And how did you sleep? Well, I hope.” Jalia brought flowers into the room, Cambria’s favorite, fragrant white lilies.

  “I did not sleep soundly. Instead, I dreamed of him again.”

  “Was it the recurring dream? You really shouldn’t drink milk and eat chocolate before you sleep.”

  “I have a weakness for sweets. You know that, Jalia.” Cambria sniffed. “And unfortunately, no, it was not the same dream. He actually entered the dream I was having.”

  “Impossible. You’ve haven’t heard from him in years!”

  “No, I assure you; he truly came. The old devil was there looking more devious and handsome than ever. Why the gods are tormenting me, I’ll never know.”

  “Don’t you deserve it?” Jalia gave her a naughty grin. “I meant deserve him. He’s quite a catch. Isn’t he the most powerful wizard in the world?”

  Cambria scoffed, waving away the notion. “You know better than to start, woman. I’m far too busy to worry about a man. Life has been so much easier without one.”

  “Not true and you know it. Life has been dull and lonely.” The woman placed a hand suggestively on her hips. “Look at me! With all the strong, handsome men around this city, my life has never been more interesting. You should contact Arcturius. Don’t let what you had slip away again. Seize the moment. First the dream, then next thing you know, he’ll be knocking on your door. Mark my words.”

  “Bah! Stop being ridiculous. I’ve got work to do. Are you my assistant or my matchmaker? We’ve got important meetings to make.”

  “If you say so.” Jalia snapped her fingers as if remembering something. “They came again today.”

  “Third time already?” Cambria chuckled to herself. The leaders of the military were certainly desperate this time. She’d heard word that the war against the forces of Mar Thagroth was at a stalemate. Stupid of them to rush off north out of anger and not consult with her. The wizards and sorcerers they’d brought were inef
fectual compared to the witches of her coven. They’d failed to gain any ground without her.

  “They refuse to leave until they see you.”

  “Fine. Then make them wait. If this war is that important to them, they will wait.”

  The witch Cambria went into her dressing room, trying to banish thoughts of Arcturius from her mind.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  The back of Elendria’s head throbbed in pain as she woke. She couldn’t see a thing but felt the blindfold over her eyes and the bite of cord on her wrists and ankles and tasted the foul gag in her mouth. Even sound was muffled, as she realized someone had tied something tight around her ears. Whoever had done this had made sure they, not only constricted her movements but also suffocated her senses as much as possible. Despite the covering, if she was careful and concentrated, she could make out the muffled voices of men.

  “She’s one of them damn witches. Saw her down by the lake castin’ spells,” said an angry, nasally voice. “The other one’s up there in the inn, sleepin’. We should grab her while we get the chance.”

  “There’s too many of ‘em—”

  “I followed her to her room… I know where she is.” The first man gave out a sharp snort and continued. “Let’s go. We can sneak in and get ‘er. We’ll hog-tie both of ‘em. I don’t trust Devin’s story a bit. He’s been paid by the witches to take them two up there to the mountains. We’d better act quick if we ever wanna get our mine back. If we kidnap ‘em, we’ll get leverage… we can use ‘em fer ransom.”

  “They’ll kill every one of you fools,” said a different, warning voice. “Don’t you remember what happened to Zach? They roasted up his brain real good but left him alive. He’s an imbecile now, mind’s like a child. Are you crazy? Think you can negotiate with them witches? I’ve had enough of this. I’m heading west tomorrow. Life on a farm is far better than this madness.”

  “You send a word to anyone and we’ll cut you. Hear me, Drav? We’ll cut out your tongue and make sure ya never talk again.”

  A long, tense silence, and for some reason, she could feel the men studying her.

  “Think she’s still out?”

  “Ya, she’s out. Marts knocked her real good, sneaky ‘lil bastard. Better watch ‘yer backs boys, or he’ll get ya.”

  Laughter then and grunts of approval, and after the merriment settled down, another long, sober silence.

  “Think she can still cast her spells?”

  “Nah, she’s a young’en, not so skilled as that. Can’t see, can’t talk, can’t wiggle her fingers, can’t kick, can’t do nothin’ fer shit.”

  More laughter could be heard, along with raucous agreement.

  She was afraid for Lysha now and wished there was a way to warn her. She pictured her sleeping in bed, and Elendria scrunched up her mind hard and poured out her desire to see her. She had to help them.

  A light bloomed in her mind, like flowers unfolding on a spring day. In her vision, the dark room appeared, lit only by the soft moonlight filtering in through the window. She compressed and focused her mind and soon saw Maggie sleeping with Lysha, and that caused a cold fury to build up in Elendria’s belly, along with a fierce desire to protect them.

  “Let’s get Marts to sneak in there and snatch that ‘lil bitch. Nobody ‘ill hear a thing, I tell ya. We’ll keep a lookout and play all innocent in case anyone wakes up.”

  “Yah,” a low voice growled.

  “Let’s do it. To hell with waiting and wonderin’ what the hell we’re gonna do. This is it, this is action, this is showin’ those witches what we can do.”

  “And it ain’t gonna be pretty. I can tell ya that.”

  The men snickered and snorted, and she could feel the heat of their lecherous eyes aimed at her.

  A new voice, deep like a snarl. “What if I don’t have a mind to wait? I’m sick of all these whores in town, filthy ‘lil saggy-tit, nasty vermin. I’m hungerin’ fer something fresh and tasty like that ‘lil witch all tied up on that floor. What you all say we go a few rounds with her before we go about that business of snatchin’ the other’in?”

  Grumbling voices and murmurs of assent, but the voice who’d suggested Marts sneak in after Lysha interrupted the pandemonium and shouted down the men.

  “Quiet, now, ya hear me? Tryin’ to wake half the town?” He waited for the others to settle down and continued. “Now, listen up fellows. If we play our cards right, we can get the mine back and have some fun with both those girls, ya hear me? But we gotta be smart about it.”

  “What’s yer plan, Varl?”

  And he told them. In the process, she came up with a plan of her own to deal with these brutes and idiots. She pictured Lysha again and tensed up her mind until she saw her in vivid detail. After a few slow calming breaths, she pushed out to Lysha from the point of light emanating from the middle of her forehead. The light bubbled out and into Lysha, and she sensed a clarity connecting the two of them.

  She heard Lysha’s breathing, long and natural, and witnessed a thread of her dream, where she sat on a marble bench in a lovely garden talking with her parents. Though she hated to interrupt the dream, she allowed her voice to sound out, clear and in warning.

  Lysha, you must wake up! She let her shouted words echo over and over again, until Lysha’s eyelids fluttered and opened in alarm.

  “Elendria?” she said and turned in bed.

  Elendria continued speaking to her. Evil men are coming to kidnap you. They’ve already taken me. I’m in grave danger and tied up in a house owned by one of the miners. One of them is their leader, Varl. Please hurry. Wake Devin and help me, Lysha, please. They want to hurt me. They think we’re both witches.

  Lysha glanced around as if uncertain where the voice was coming from.

  “I’ll find you, Elendria. I’ll get help. I promise.”

  The vision faltered and faded as Elendria heard the stomping of boots and a door slamming shut. After the room became silent, she released a sigh of relief. She’d actually done it. She’d somehow managed to warn Lysha and knew she’d done it with magic, though not the kind of magic that required the casting of a spell. This was all done using willpower and concentration, and the best part was, she knew she could do it again if she needed to.

  Now the waiting and the wondering, with only the wailing wind outside to keep her company. After a few seconds of worrying about whether Lysha was okay, she decided she couldn’t wait a moment longer. She wasn’t helpless, and if she was careful, she thought she could free her hands using fire and ice magic. Fire to burn, ice to protect.

  Was it possible for her to incinerate the ropes without melting her skin? Her hands were tied behind her back, and she realized any attempt at casting fire magic would be dangerous as she risked setting her clothes on fire. But if she shielded her body using a block of ice, then she believed she could limit the potential damage.

  But what about her head? How was she going to prevent her hair from torching up? She gave an exasperated sigh and knew the situation was futile. Being so completely tied up like this offered her little chance of helping herself using magic, at least with the magic she knew.

  If only she had a way to transform the rope into something else, like a snake or ash or even a shaped lump of mud. At the thought of ash, this gave her an idea. What if she could transform the rope into ash? But without causing the rope to burn on the outside. She smiled as the idea crystallized into a clear vision of what she needed to do.

  She rotated around so she was facing the ground and lifted her arms so she wouldn’t accidentally catch her hair and clothes on fire. She felt the tight ropes biting into her wrists, and she cast the spell of ice, focusing on encasing the rope with a thick chunk.

  At once, she felt the cold sting her skin. She sighed in relief, excited at doing it without seeing. Next, she brought a slow heat down her arms, a continual heat that kept the skin next to the ice from freezing. Here was the tricky part: she had to concentrate on picturing the space in
side the rope. She caused the growth of a white-hot fire inside the center.

  Water drenched her back, and she gave a yelp of pain from a scalding burn. She immediately sent more ice to surround the rope. Checking to see if it worked, she yanked her arms apart and released a squeal of delight at discovering the ropes no longer offered any hindrance. The spell had worked.

  She tugged off the blindfold and removed the gag, careful to scan the room for any sign of the miners. The knot around her ankles untied quickly, and she relished the feeling of regaining her freedom.

  Now, the craving for vengeance surged in her heart. She stormed out of the room, driven by the urgent desire to aid Lysha and protect Maggie. She reached down and seized the black stone from her pocket and thrilled at the feeling of power. It angered her and drove her to kill.

  It was still dark outside, but instead of sneaking around, she cast a ball of brilliant, golden light and banished the shadows. She wouldn’t have Marts or any other miner sneaking up on her again.

  Shouts of alarm and the sounds of steel ringing on steel could be heard ahead at the inn. She urged her legs to run faster, rounding a corner and discovering the red-and-yellow glow of torchlights held by a mob of miners wielding short swords and picks. Fright seized her as she spied Devin fighting alone against several men.

  When she heard Lysha’s voice screaming from within the inn, something snapped inside her.

  The black stone raged in an instant.

  A terrific chill rose up inside as she focused on the men. It burst out, and Elendria hurled a massive glob of liquid ice crystals at the mob, covering the miners.

  She coughed and wheezed, sinking to her knees from the massive exertion. But as she raised her eyes to survey the damage, she realized she’d frozen the entire group of miners and even formed icicles on Devin’s sword and hands.

  He scurried away in panic from the frozen statues of men. Their faces were locked in anger and fierce determination. One miner, who’d been close to Devin, was about to stab a steel pick into his back. Her intervention had saved his life. Had she been a moment delayed, the woodsman would have died.